Page 38 of Church Girl
Again, I should retreat, put the space of this house between us.
Instead, I suck her earlobe between my lips, tonguing it, sucking it like I would her clit if she gave me the word.
The dull prick of nails in my lower back has a rougher, deeper sound rumbling out of me. I want to rip my shirt up, grant her access to my bare skin and order her to do that shit again. But that would require releasing her, removing my own hands, and that I’m not ready to do.
Grinding my erection into her, I open my mouth over the line of her jaw and suck once more, rolling my tongue over skin that’s both sweet and musky. Need, hot and urgent, floods my veins, converging in my dick so each rock of my hips shoots it higher and hotter.
The part of my brain that has retained some semblance of sense rears its head, whispering that I don’t have a lot of time. It’s a minor miracle that Gia has been this quiet. But fatherhood has taught me I’m on borrowed time, and her barreling in here, declaring she’s hungry, is only minutes away.
Yet, I don’t hurry. I trail my lips up over Aaliyah’s cheek, the bridge of her nose to the other cheek, following those cinnamon freckles like they’re breadcrumbs. Her breath hitches, and she tilts her head back, offering me easier access. I press soft kisses to the place where a dimple dents her cheek when she smiles then finally,fucking finally, cover the pretty, carnal mouth that has been driving me to distraction for weeks.
There’s no way I can contain my groan, even at the risk of Gia running in here at this moment. Aaliyah’s too sweet, too delicious, too gotdamngood.
“Open,” I harshly demand. “Let me get in, ma.”
If I have my way, this won’t be the last time I say this to her. Next time, it’ll be me insisting she lets me in that tight, soaking wet pussy. That samesomethingfrom earlier insists her cunt is perfect and will curve only to my dick.
That intuition—that promise—has me plunging my tongue between her lips, tangling, sucking, pulling. Where before my kisses across her cheeks and nose and jaw were gentle, tender, this isn’t. It’s a fucking, pure and simple. It’s a command to give me everything she has, and when she believes she’s done so, to fucking go further and unearth more to hand over.
It occurs to me I might be a little obsessed with having her. Now that I know that fruity, sensual scent isn’t a fluke, that it graces her skin, and I taste traces of it on her tongue and lips... Now that I’ve found out what that lil’ sound of greed is like, I don’t want to stop until I find out if her nipples will contain the same flavor, if those thick thighs will tremble around my head while I gorge myself on that pussy.
Yeah, obsessed could be an understatement.
Either she’s a quick learner or I’ve misjudged her being a virgin—I don’t really give a damn. I’m thankful for either one or both. Especially when she curls her tongue around mine and sucks so gotdamn hard my dick is jealous. My hand slides over her hip, and I cup that worship-worthy ass, squeezing hard.
“You don’t kiss like a virgin, ma.” I sink my teeth into her full bottom lip, draw on it with the tip of my tongue. “I don’t know whether to thank or beat the shit out of the person who taught you that.”
At my voice, my compliment—shit, both—she stiffens.
Fuck.
One moment, that beautiful ass is sitting on my hand, and in the next, my palm is tingling with the sensory memory of it.
Aaliyah stumbles back several steps, her wide, desire-hazed eyes on me, fingers lifted to her kiss-swollen lips. Her chest rises and falls, and I can’t help dropping my gaze to those pretty breasts. Even with the distance she placed between us, I can clearly see the outline of her nipples against the sweater. I’m twisting between the protective urge to calm her, soothe her, and the more primal one to pull that sweater up and suck on the beaded tips. Could be she sees that in my face because she backs up even more.
“I—I think I should go,” she softly stutters.
Minutes ago, I informed her she was staying, but now, I agree with her. I struggle to look unaffected by the...war our mouths just waged, but I’m fucking shook. How can she have my dick ready to bust with a kiss? I haven’t been this close to nutting this fast when inside a woman, much lessnotinside her.
Now that the fog of lust is slowly clearing, and my common sense is coming back, all my mistakes, and why I shouldn’t have touched her, flood in with a crash.
Nanny.
Gia needs her.
Young as fuck.
No relationships.
The hell was I thinking to say fuck all that—to risk all that—and kiss her? Gia is attached to her, and my daughter’s emotional security is more important than getting my shit wet. Besides, even if Aaliyah’s age, inexperience and where she is in life right now versus where I am weren’t all relevant, there’s still the fact that my marriage and divorce soured me on relationships of any kind. Having the mother of your child, the woman you thought would be by your side for the rest your life, end up betraying you—with one of your boys—strains the belief in love and commitment.
And the secrets, the agony of them, will have you saying fuck it altogether.
A kiss temporarily made me forget all that.
But now it’s in front of my head like a billboard on the Loop.
“Daddy!” Gia barges into the kitchen and runs up to me. “I’m hungry.”
