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I gathered the few bottles still on the ground and shoved them into the back with the blankets for her to deal with later, then climbed into the back seat. Mia stumbled a little trying to get in around the seat, so I held out a hand, which she gave me a heart melting smile for in thanks.
“We have a whole day by ourselves,” I whispered into her ear while the others were talking in the front seats. “Whatever will we do?”
Mia blushed again, and I loved the flush over her cheeks.
Last night had not been enough for me. I’d given her an orgasm, quick and dirty, because we had company not twenty yards away. I wanted to fuck her every which way, and taste her honey on my lips. I wanted to shove my cock down her throat as tears streamed down her face, then kiss them away as I brought her to orgasm over and over and over.
We’d been good, not fucking in my office like little bunny rabbits because we knew with how loud she was, there was a good chance we’d be found out. And with our late nights and her trying to spend time in her dorm as well as my place, plus homework and the boys’ presence during the weekend… Needless to say, there wasn’t nearly enough fucking happening, and I could feel my craving for her deep in my gut like an abyss that was never satisfied.
“I need a shower, or a bath,” she said, her fingers pressing against my thigh. “Other than that…I’m all yours.”
That hand slipped to the inside of my thigh and I had to take in a deep breath so I didn’t get a full on woodie in the car.
“We need to talk about the whole Thanksgiving thing, though,” she added, her face fading to be decidedly less frisky than just a moment ago.
“Sure. Soon as we get you that bath,” I agreed.
“So, about Thanksgiving,” Mia said as we sat at the kitchen bar and ate some takeout because I couldn’t be bothered to cook after the exhausting, fuck-filled afternoon we’d had.
“You tell me what you want to do, and we’ll make it happen,” I told her between bites. “But no matter what I do, my mother is coming along, unfortunately.”
She frowned.
“Is she really that bad?”
That was a really tough question.
“Define bad.” I tried. “Is she difficult? Yes. Is she set in her ways and struggles to get along with people? Yes. Is she a good woman? Also yes. She was tough, but fair growing up, and she’s who I got my love of literature from.”
“Really? I can’t see a woman like that being a lover of fiction.”
I grinned because I couldn’t see her loving fiction, either.
“No, she read biographies and the like. She’d do one hell of a good job on Jeopardy, let me tell you.”
Mia giggled and pressed her hand on top of mine.
“So basically, your Mom’s going to hate me, a frivolous smut writer. Besides the fact that I’m so much younger.”
He shook his head.
“I doubt the age gap will throw her. But the romance…ehhhh…”
I put up my hand and weighed it side to side.
In reality, Mom would have a hell of a time with the idea of someone making and selling what she would consider rubbish. She didn’t have the appreciation that I did for creating something from nothing and becoming successful with it.
“Maybe I just won’t say anything,” she murmured, her fingers brushing softly over my knuckles. “Or maybe…I just shouldn’t have Thanksgiving—”
I flipped my hand in hers and squeezed until she stopped talking.
“Let me tell you this one thing,” I whispered.
She listened carefully, her eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t fucking care what my mother thinks. I’m not out to impress her, and if she disrespects you, I’ll kick her out of the room, not you. I’m incredibly proud of you, at such a young age, putting this book together. I know better than most how soul wrenching it is to put yourself on the pages, and how terrifying it is to give it to the public who can act like piranhas sometimes.”
I paused and gave her hand one more squeeze.
