Filling me completely…with only two fingers.
More than I’d ever been filled before, and I didn’t even have the real thing yet.
“God,” I breathed, eyes slamming open in surprise when he sucked hard on my nipple once again.
I looked down, watching his strong, bristly jaw work as he sucked powerfully, drawing my nipple deeply into his mouth.
My hand moved down to cup the back of his head with both hands as I went up onto my tiptoes and circled my hips, searching for something.
More friction, possibly.
Yet again, though, he knew what I wanted.
Thrusting his fingers in and out of me at a furious pace, curling in to work that special spot inside of me.
Then his voice, his goddamned voice, was what made me explode.
That sexy, deep baritone whispering all the dirty things he’d been wanting to do to me since he’d met me, made me come. And come so hard I screamed.
It took me a few long seconds to come back to my senses, but when I did, and opened my eyes, it was to find his intense ones staring back at me.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, pulling his fingers from my pussy, then promptly sucking them clean with his mouth.
I gaped at him, stunned with how he could go from zero to ninety in point three seconds.
Letting me go carefully, he stepped back and readjusted himself.
I smiled, reaching for his belt, but he stopped me.
My heart, which had been frantically beating against my ribcage, froze for a few short moments.
“There’s not enough time in the world to do what I want to do to you,” he said, softening the blow.
When I moved to head to the bathroom to clean the flood between my legs up, he grabbed my hands and stopped me.
“Don’t,” he said simply.
I raised my brows at him. “Why?”
He grinned as he said, “You’re gonna need that later. And it won’t be the last time I do that tonight before we actually get to the main event. The buildup is going to drive you fucking crazy, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
With that lovely parting comment, he slapped me on my ass, sending me on my way.***I was nervous.
I knew tonight would be the night.
The night I had sex with the second person in my life.
The second person that could make or break what I thought sex could be.
With David, it’d always been bland.
Towards the end of our relationship, it’d turned into an every Thursday kind of thing.
With Foster, though, I had a feeling that it’d be spontaneous. And hot.
Really hot.
“Why are you biting your fingernails?” Foster asked
“You’re about to meet my mother,” I lied.
He snorted. “You need to be careful when you lie. You have a tell,” he laughed.
I blinked, and turned in my seat to face him.
“What tell?” I asked him.
He pointed to my lip that I was currently worrying with my teeth, and I winced.
Yeah, I did do that. Often.
It was a nervous habit. Something I did a lot, I’d found.
“I’ll have to see what I can do about remedying that,” I teased.
He winked and bailed out of the truck with a bounce in his step that had nothing to do with the kinetic energy stored in his prosthesis.
He moved around his truck, walked up to my door, and opened it.
Offering me his hand, he helped me down and held it as he slammed the door behind me.
I walked with him, in silence, up to the door.
We stopped once we reached the front door, though.
That was because we heard fighting.
Well, my mother was yelling, and my father did what he did best, ignored her.
I wasn’t really sure that my parents loved each other.
In fact, there were days that I was fairly sure they hated each other.
The only thing that I thought kept them together was that they’d been together so long they didn’t know any different.
I’d asked my dad why he didn’t divorce, and he’d said that it wasn’t ‘his way.’
He’d never leave my mother.
End of story.
But as I stood there on the front steps of my parents’ home, I knew that they were through.
“Choose!” My mother screeched.
My father’s deep, calm voice said. “Don’t make me do that. You know what I’ll choose.”
My mother’s voice became shrill. “You have to choose! I won’t allow you to let her treat me like that! You’ve been avoiding this for days. If you don’t say what you choose, right now, then I’ll only assume I know what you’re picking and act accordingly.”
“You walk out this door, I won’t let you back in.”
Then, she did just that.
She opened the side door, stormed out to her minivan, and peeled out of the driveway, narrowly missing Foster’s truck by a hair’s width.
I walked into the front door, seeing my father and grandfather on the couch, both with a beer in their hand.
My father looked pissed, and my grandfather looked tired.
“So…” I said, catching their attention. “Are we ordering pizza?”
I couldn’t say that I was upset about my mother leaving.
We’d never really gotten along.
She continued, to this day, to try to mold me into the perfect housewife. Something that I really, really didn’t want to be.
She hated that I did pottery.
She hated that I left David.
She hated that I didn’t wear my hair down, or put on dresses that ‘flattered my figure.’
Personally, I couldn’t give a fuck about all of that. What I wanted to do was what I loved, and being the ‘perfect housewife’, like she was, wasn’t one of them.
And color me surprised when she’d made that ultimatum to my father.
That was something I’d never thought to hear uttered from her lips.
“You can go finish making the dinner that your mother left cooking on the stove,” Grandpa said, eyes never leaving the TV.
It was on a fishing show.
He loved fishing shows.
I loved them, too, which was why I made a note of the channel before I went into the kitchen.
Then I turned it on and finished making dinner.
My mom had chosen fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and fresh baked rolls.