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“I have no other option. With self-doubt comes failure.”
“That sounds like something Marcus would say,” she commented. I could hear the lightness return to her tone.
“That’s what he told me before I took my bar exam.”
“Figures.”
“Do you think differently of me, Kierra?”
“No…I’ll just make sure not to become your ex one day.”
That made us both laugh. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I claimed, standing to my feet. “It’s cold out here. Let’s get inside.”
“I hope you don’t think you’re off the hook.”
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.
“I’m not above blackmailing.”
“What are your demands?” I asked, smiling as we took the stairs slowly.
“Oral and Sherlock Holmes.”
“Which Sherlock Holmes?”
“Young Sherlock Holmes; 1985.”
“Ehhhh.”
“Oh, my. I’m feeling a little less ride or dieish right now,” Kierra teased.
“Oral andYoung Sherlock Holmesit is.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Kierra
A whimper escaped my parted lips as Jonathan stroked me. I was frustrated and ready for him to bring me to completion, which required him to drop dick fast and hard, but I knew better than to ask. It was our first time having sex since my accident, and he had already warned me that he’d fuck me how he wanted—nice and slow to not exacerbate my injuries. That was all fine and dandy, but my doctor cleared me to resume all activity, and I had a nifty soft cast that replaced the arm splint. I needed to get wrecked, and I feared the only way I could achieve that was by getting on top.
My fingers threaded through his hair as he kissed my neck. I slicked back his damp, blond locks that fell into his face. He nipped at my flesh, and I clenched around him. I dug my heels into his lower back, hoping he’d pick up what I was putting down, but he continued at his snail’s pace. It wasn’t like Jonathan to be dismissive in bed, but I had to give him a pass. He’d been going through it since Eliza’s death.
He took his kids to her funeral to pay their final respects and was swiftly met by opposition. Eliza’s family attempted to kick Jonathan out but keep the children. A brawl nearly ensued, but thankfully Marcus pulled out that crowd control and was able to get his family to safety. I was dumbfounded when Felicityanimatedly retold the popcorn-worthy story. Later, I checked in with Jonathan and asked how he was processing the funeral fiasco. He made it clear he still had no regrets but hated how the adults couldn’t put their differences aside for the kids. It shouldn’t have gotten to the point where firearms had to be brandished, but he’d strongly consider carrying one in the near future.
Yeah, that’s best because if Eliza’s family takes out Jonathan, then I’m gonna have to give them a little taste of Cleo and set it off.
Currently, Grant doesn’t want anything to do with Jonathan. He avoided his father like the plague. If Jonathan entered a room, Grant exited. If Jonathan spoke to Grant, Grant would pretend the man didn’t exist. I’d caught Grant giving his father evil eyes several times, but when I tried to address it with him, Jonathan stepped in and told me that Grant was going through his anger stage of grief, and I should know better than anyone how that felt. I agreed with him in theory, but I also knew Jonathan was taking the mistreatment from his eldest son because, deep down, Jonathan thought he deserved it.
Today’s Christmas, hopefully, the mood will stay positive.
“Let me get on top, baby.”
Knocking on the bedroom door interrupted us before Jonathan could deny me. He dropped his head on my shoulder and groaned.
Don’t get mad now. If you had given me five minutes on top, I would’ve left us in bed looking like a pair of crash test dummies.
“Ms. Kierra…I wet the bed,” Grant confessed through the door.
“Shit. That’s the third time this week,” Jonathan whispered.
