Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I just knew she didn’t deserve to be screwed over while her husband lived the high life with the next young thing.
“Yes,” I answered. “Definitely.”
Ally pushed up from her chair, muttering, “We’re on it.”
She walked away, putting her phone to her ear, now all business.
Wow.
She was kinda badass.
“This isn’t gonna amount to anything.” Annette sounded disappointed. “This Jeffrey guy gets it in his head to kidnap you or car bomb you, and he gets one look at Darius, he’s gonna tuck his tail between his legs and move himself and his fuck buddy to Panama.”
“Good riddance, I say,” Jet muttered.
It was then, I caught movement across the way, at the entrance to the shelves.
Duke.
My heart warmed, my lips formed the words, “Excuse me,” and I put down my coffee mug and got up.
He turned around and disappeared into the shadows of the stacks.
I followed him in.
But he’d vanished.
Except, he hadn’t.
The books were in three sections, the middle one containing tables with milk cartons on top, filled with vinyl.
On the edge of the one closest to the aisle was a plastic-covered album.
Bridge over Troubled Waters.
On it was taped a note.
I picked up the album and read the note.
My Boxer,
I know Darius has a turntable.
You did good.
Proud of you.
Duke
I closed my eyes to fight the sting in them and hugged that album to my chest.
Once I got myself together, still hugging the album, I walked back to my coffee.
And my friends.
The old.
And the new.
* * * *
It was a couple of hours, and a couple of coffees, later, when I was hoping we’d have enough time to get hangers and a new outfit for Darius before we had to head home and get ready for the party, when Toni and I were walking to my car.
Before I opened my door, though, she was suddenly in my space.
Surprised, I turned to her.
Her arms closed around me.
Shirleen’s hugs were the best, truly.
But Toni’s gave them competition, partly because she put her all into them, mostly because she was choosy about doling them out, and they didn’t come often.
“Happy for you,” she whispered in my ear, and as fast as the hug started, it ended, and she headed to the passenger side.
I had to fight the sting of tears again, but I was getting good at it.
Anyway, I had hangers to buy and an outfit to pick out for my man and a party to get ready for.
There was no time for tears.
Chapter Seventeen
The Only Dream I Had Was You
“C’mere, baby,” Darius murmured.
My eyes went to him first.
Looking up those ridged abs and swelling pecs to his handsome, lazy face, I had no choice.
Even though I was into what I was doing, I slipped his cock out of my mouth, and kissing my way there, I crawled up his body.
Once I got there, both his hands went into my panties at my behind, those and my bra the only things I was wearing (sunshine yellow, like my mood of late), and he muttered, “These off. You on.”
I felt my eyes go hooded as I dipped to the side, wheeled off my panties, then climbed back on.
I positioned him and took him, sinking down, Darius sinking in, filling me, and my spine arched, my head falling back.
I started moving and Darius spanned my hips with his hands.
“Slow. Look at me.”
I looked to him and moved slow.
“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured.
“You are too.”
His mouth curved, then he caught his lip in his straight, white teeth when I tilted my hips on a downward slide.
“Fuck,” he bit.
“Okay?”
His fingers dug in. “Fuck yeah.”
I moved and watched him, felt him, smelled him, reveled in him.
He watched me, the tensing and releasing of his fingers encouraging my movements, controlling my rhythm.
Finally, his hand slid over my hip and in, his finger hitting the spot, and I had no choice. I bounced faster, harder.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled.
“I wanna kiss you,” I told him.
“I want your show,” he replied.
His finger put on more pressure.
My head fell back again.
He got his show.
“Yeah, arch into it, Malia,” he grunted, his hips now thrusting up.
“Baby, I’m gonna—”
I yelped because I was flying off.
Before I could blink, he was behind me, hand in my back pushing me down, then both to my hips hauling me up to my knees, and he pounded back in.
“Yes,” I hissed, bucking into him, searching for it again, finding it again, I shoved my face in the sheets and whimpered.
I was so, so close.
Hands at my ribs, he pulled me up to impaled on him, thrusting up as I bounced, his hand cupping my breast, the other one narrowing in on the exact right spot between my legs.
My head fell back to his shoulder.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he growled into my ear.
“Same,” I pushed out.
“Never get enough,” he grunted.