She was coming.
From breast play alone she’d had an orgasm.
And from the looks of it, when she opened her eyes, glancing around and then up at me, she was completely taken by surprise.
“I-I had no idea those were real. I read about it, but …” She trailed off.
I pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “They’re real and you just had one.” I kissed her again because I could, and then bent low, picking her up by the backs of her thighs to walk us both down the hall.
I stared into her eyes the entire time I carried her. She looked back at me, arms draped around my shoulders, looking as if she had a question to ask but couldn’t figure out how to say it, or even what it was she wanted to ask. Hell, maybe that was my projection because I was feeling a lot of shit that I couldn’t explain myself.
I placed her on the bed before opening the drawer of my nightstand and reaching in for a condom. Pulling one out, I handed it to her. Her eyebrows raised as she took the condom from my hands.
She sat up staring at me curiously. “You want me to …”
“Yes. Open it.”
With trembling fingers, she tore the wrapper open.
“Pinch the top.”
She did.
“Place it at the tip.”
Slowly she moved her hands to the tip of my hardness.
“Now roll it down.”
As soon as she reached the base of my dick, I took her hands by the wrists, pulling them over her head and forcing her back against the bed. I moved to press my body against hers. Her legs instantly went up, wrapping around my lower back. I lowered my face to hers, kissing the tip of her chin, then the sides of her mouth, before fusing our lips together.
“Mmm,” she moaned into my mouth as I began grinding my waist into her still panty-clad sex. Her hips began wiggling against mine, desperately seeking more.
I wasn’t one to keep my woman waiting. Adjusting myself so that both of her wrists were in my left hand, I used my right to slide the crotch of her panties out of the way and began easing into her. Her moans grew louder and breathing heavier. I broke free of the kiss and lowered my face to the crook of her neck, licking as my cock moved deeper and deeper inside of her.
“Damon!”
“My dick feel good?” I asked, pistoning my hips, moving in and out of her body.
“Yesss,” she hissed, her back arching off the bed.
I released her wrists and moved both of my hands to under her thighs, lifting them, and pushing them farther apart, giving myself more room to go an inch deeper.
Sandra screamed, tossing her head against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut.
“Open your eyes. Look at me when I’m making you come!” I ordered, my voice tight with my own pent-up sexual energy.
Slowly Sandra’s eyes opened, those brown eyes looking into mine.
“You gonna come for me?”
She didn’t answer, instead a gasp escaped her mouth as I pushed into her again.
“I didn’t hear you. You gonna come for me?”
“D-Damon!” she yelled as her hands twisted in the pillows surrounding us.
“That wasn’t an answer.” I pulled out almost completely.
“Yes! Please!”
Goddamn I loved it when she begged like that. Other women I’d been with loved the power play involved with sex—wanted to try and see if they could get me to make promises I wasn’t ready for or never would be, before they opened up sexually. Not Sandra. She didn’t play manipulative games like that. And that made me want to please her in every way.
I lifted her knees and pushed them together at her chest, causing her thighs and pelvic area to tighten around my straining dick. I felt the trembling in her core and sped up the pace of my movements.
“Daamoon!” she yelled, moaning as her body released.
The tightness caused by the position I had her in, along with the milking from her orgasm, was my undoing. And before her release was complete, a ripple down my spine had the muscles in my body tightening and straining as my orgasm pushed through. I grunted and flexed my hips, working to release every drop of my cum into the condom.
I collapsed to the bed, rolling over so Sandra could lay on top of me. Our sweaty bodies were skin to skin, chests heaving as we strained to normalize our breathing.
“I had no idea.”
I lifted my head, as my fingers continued to trail over Sandra’s damp, bare shoulder. Looking at her head laying on my chest, her hand running through the hairs of my beard.
“No idea what?”
“Sex could be that damn good.”
I chuckled and lowered my head to the pillow, tightening my hold around her body.
“Shit, me either.”
Chapter Twelve
Damon
“Hi, Mr. Damon!” Monique eagerly greeted as she answered the door to her and Sandra’s home.
Grinning, I stooped to get eye level with her. “What’s up, short stuff?” I then leveled my brows, frowning. “I thought your mother told you not to answer the door.”
She lowered her head. “Aw, man, I forgot.”
I chuckled and tweaked her nose, making her laugh. “I won’t tell.”
“Tell what? That Monique is not supposed to be opening doors unless I specifically ask her to?” Sandra questioned as she rounded the hallway into the living room, approaching the door.
I scanned the length of her body, as had become my natural reaction every time I saw her. She wore a long, floral print dress, which had cutouts at the shoulders, displaying their bare smoothness. Those shoulders that I had licked and kissed just a few nights earlier.
“No,” I responded to Sandra’s earlier comment. “Short stuff and I have secrets all our own, that have nothing to do with you.” I tossed Monique a wink and she giggled.
Sandra looked between the two of us. “Whatever. Monique, go finish putting your shoes on.”
“’Kay, Mommy.” Monique ran out of the room, and as soon as she turned the corner, I used the free moment to quickly wrap my arm around Sandra’s body, pull her into me, and kiss those lips that always seem to taunt me. Even in my damn sleep.
Sandra was the first to pull back, which was probably a good thing, seeing as how I would often lose my ability to say enough where kissing her was concerned. She smiled up at me, her hands going to my chest, before one moved up to cup my cheek, my beard more specifically.
“One day I’m going to cut this thing off and find out how you really feel about me.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t tempt me. I don’t appreciate being whored out for my beard.”
She gasped and then covered her mouth, laughing.
I grabbed her hand, lowering it, wanting to see her entire face as she laughed.
“It’s not the beard. It’s the man behind the beard.”
I nodded. “Uh, huh. You say that now. Watch when I cut it off, you’ll be singing a whole different tune. Probably stop answering my calls and everything.”
She shook her head. “Never.”
Pausing, I looked her in the eye. There was no false pretense, no coyness, or manipulation. Just pure truth.
I dipped my head lower, placing a quick kiss to her lips before moving over to whisper in here ear. “Wait ’til you use my beard as a seat.” That was the one thing I hadn’t gotten to the other night that I’d kicked myself over. The next time I had her all to myself, I wouldn’t be so damn forgetful.
“Damon!” she gasped, whispered, shocked, glancing over her shoulder I guessed to make sure her daughter wasn’t around. I would’ve told her I already checked to make sure we were alone, but we were then interrupted from someone behind me.
“Hello.”
I pulled back, looking over my shoulder, realizing that I was still part way in the hall of Sandra’s apartment building. I narrowed my gaze at the woman behind me. She looked older, her skin a few shades lighter than Sandra’s and she was about a half a
foot taller, but there was an undeniable family resemblance. I didn’t have to be told who this was. I steeled my face to a neutral position.
“Grandmother,” Sandra pushed out. “Hi. This is Damon,” she introduced, holding her hand out to me.
I looked toward the older woman and nodded.
“Damon, this is my grandmother, Dorothy Robinson.”
“Ms. Robinson.” I held out my hand.
She grasped it, shaking. “Please, call me Dottie.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Come in.” Sandra stepped back, allowing both of us to enter.
I moved to the side, allowing her grandmother to enter first.
“These are for you. For dessert.” I handed Sandra the brownies I’d ordered from the bakery not too far from my condo.
“Are these the brownies you had Monique raving about?”
Smiling, I nodded. I’d given Monique one of the brownies the other night when I’d picked Sandra up for a date. They were made with unsweetened applesauce and stevia instead of sugar which was supposed to be better for someone with diabetes.
“She loved them. Hasn’t stopped talking about them since the other day. You are quickly becoming my little girl’s hero.”
I smirked and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Yeah? And what about her mama’s hero?”
Her eyelids lowered and her lips parted, but before anything came out the sound of Monique running down the hall occurred. “Great-Grandma!” she shouted. “Mr. Damon, this is my great-grandma. My mommy grew up with her.” She pulled her grandmother by the hand over to where Sandra and I stood.
I nodded. “I’m aware but thanks for the introduction, short stuff.”
She giggled and then looked up to Dottie. “That’s his nickname for me. He says I’m short like my mommy but I’m only ten.” She shrugged and we all laughed.
“I hope you’re all hungry. Monique and I have been cooking. Monique, Mr. Damon brought more of those brownies you liked.” Sandra held up the white bakery box that was held closed by the red and white string.
“Yes!” Monique cheered.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you, Mr. Damon!” Monique moved over to me, throwing her arms around my waist.
My arms went around her. I swallowed the lump in my throat before looking at Sandra who smiled at the both of us. My eyes moved over to Dottie’s who was watching me.
Monique and Sandra insisted that Dottie and I sit at the dining table, which had already been set up with plates, silverware, and napkins for four people. I watched as Dottie handed Sandra the bread she’d brought to accompany the chicken and vegetable soup they had prepared.
“Sandra tells me you’re involved in real estate?” Dottie inquired, trying to make conversation.
“I am.”
“That must be interesting.”
I nodded. “It pays the bills.”
She released a short laugh. “I’m sure it does more than that.”
“You were a judge, correct?”
“Yes, I was a prosecutor for fifteen years before becoming one of the youngest judges in the city. I served for thirty years.”
“Interesting,” I said half-heartedly, taking a sip of the homemade iced tea from the glass Sandra had given me earlier.
“Here we are,” Sandra announced as she entered the dining area, holding two bowls.
I stood, taking one of the bowls from her and placing it at the nearest place setting.
“Thanks,” she stated before setting the second plated bowl in front of her grandmother. “I’ve still got it. Thought I might have lost a little bit of my strength since my waitressing days. I would’ve carried a third on my forearm, but I didn’t want to show off,” she joked.
I chuckled. “I bet you didn’t.”
“Let me go make sure my little helper isn’t making a mess.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.
I remained standing until she and Monique entered back into the dining area, plated bowls in hand. Only once they sat, did I take my seat.
I found myself annoyed when Dottie opened up the dinner conversation, asking how Sandra and I met. I let Sandra answer most of the questions her grandmother asked. Monique seemed to love her new great-grandmother. She talked at length about school projects she was working on, or wanted to work on, but had been told by her teachers she wasn’t allowed.
“Ms. Jamison says there is no place for our school to do a compost even though I told them how harmful it was to keep wasting food and sending it to the landfill.” She frowned as if truly puzzled on how to solve this particular issue. Sandra had already shared with me her daughter’s passion for saving the planet. On a previous visit to their home, Monique showed me the composting buckets she and her mother used, which were picked up once a month to be sold to farmers around the state. She was very proud of it.
“And how are you getting along with the other kids at school?” Dottie asked.
I lifted an eyebrow, curious as well, considering Monique had ended up in the hospital as a result of the bullying she’d endured.
“Better,” Monique answered. “Since Mommy visited the principal and my teacher the kids are nicer.” She shrugged.
I remembered Sandra telling me she went down to the school the day after Monique’s hospital visit to have a talk with the principal and teacher. I concluded that my little undercover spitfire had likely cursed those people at her daughter’s school out for not being on top of the teasing she was dealing with. While that image had me smirking, I didn’t say much during the conversation, even when Sandra and Monique stood to take our empty dishes into the kitchen. At that point, I rose.
“Let me, you stay and talk with your great-grandmother, short stuff.” I took the plates from her hands and followed Sandra into the kitchen, placing the dishes into the sink, as she had done.
“You okay?” she questioned, a wrinkle in her forehead.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know, you just seemed quiet during dinner.”
I shook my head. “Work stuff. No worries.” Leaning down, I kissed her lips. “Thanks for dinner.”
I followed her back into the dining room after she placed four brownies on four different plates. We sat down and ate dessert, Monique the most energetic out of everyone over the treat.
“These are great. Are they from the Smith Bakery, over on Lennox?” Dottie asked.
“They are.”
“Oh, that’s why they’re so familiar. I used to stop over there on my lunch breaks sometimes during the day for something sweet.”
I nodded and took a bite of my brownie, enjoying it more than I thought I would. When Sandra told me how much Monique loved the last one I’d brought for her, tonight’s dessert choice had been a no-brainer.
We talked around the table some more before Sandra rose, needing to get Monique ready for bed.
“I can head out—”
“No,” Sandra insisted. “Stay, it’ll only take a few minutes. She’s not going to bed. She just likes to have a few minutes on the tablet to talk with Diego before they both go to sleep. Hang on,” she stated, following Monique down the hall.
I stood in the living room, looking around at the light grey and white furniture, and the pictures on the wall showcasing Monique at various ages.
“You don’t like me very much.”
My eyes lowered from the pictures on the wall to the woman standing to my left. I glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sandra and Monique were still down the hall.
“I don’t know you well enough to like or not like you.”
She gave me a small frown. “Any man of your stature has to be discerning, I would imagine. Which means you make split decisions on people every day in your line of work. I had to do it in my career. Which is why I’m able to tell when someone is just tolerating my presence.”
I ran my hand through my beard before fully turning to Sandra’s grandmother. “Like I said, I don’t know you
well enough to like or not like you. Now respect you?” I shrugged. “That’s something different.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Respect?”
I pushed out a breath. I’d been prepared to keep my mouth shut, to bite my damn tongue throughout this entire night, but since she’d asked …
“It’s hard for me to respect anyone who kicks their teenage child out of their home when they need them the most.”
Her mouth formed into an “O” realization or comprehension settling in on my problem with her.
“She was eighteen, fresh out of high school and you left her to fend for herself. With a baby.”
Her eyelids fluttered.
My gaze narrowed. Was that shame?
“I thought she’d come back. Come to her senses. Or at the very least, marry the boy that’d gotten her pregnant.”
It was my turn to gape at her in surprise. “Marry a dude who couldn’t even claim responsibility for his child?”
Dottie shook her head, briefly averting her eyes, before turning back to me. “I was wrong.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“All right, Monique’s settled in, talking with Diego. Those two could talk about nothing for hours.”
I frowned, looking over at Sandra as she entered the room. “She has to talk to him so late at night?”
Sandra giggled. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”
“Exactly. Shouldn’t his little ass be sleeping? Don’t these kids have school in the morning?”
Sandra laughed as she moved fully into the room. “They’re friends. Calm down. Damon gets a little overprotective of his short stuff,” Sandra explained to her grandmother.
Dottie turned to me. “It’s not just Monique he’s protective over.”
My expression remained placid.
“Well, thank you for dinner, once again. I should get going.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I stated. I may not have respected the woman’s decisions, but I did have some form of home training.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be back to say goodnight,” I told Sandra.
After Dottie said her good-byes, I followed her out to her car which was out front of Sandra’s building.
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