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Acceptance.
I can see it. She’s no longer hiding. I know I still have a long way to go, but this feels like a huge victory. Leaning in, I press my lips to hers, and as I trace her lips with my tongue, she opens for me. I’m not sure how we manage it without breaking the kiss, but she turns to face me, straddling my thighs. My hands grip her ass, guiding her so that she’s rubbing her pussy over my hard cock.
“Oh God,” she moans.
“You like that, baby?” I ask against her lips.
“It’s been so long,” she murmurs.
“How long?” Her eyes are closed, and her teeth are sunk into her bottom lip. I cup her face in my hands. “Larissa, how long?”
Her eyes pop open. “Since Steve. There’s been no one since him.”
“Clarify that for me, babe. No one… as in… no one has been inside you?” I thrust my cock against her for good measure. “Has anyone had their mouth here?” I ask, bringing my hand around and tweaking her nipple through her thin cotton shirt.
Eyes locked on mine, she humbles me with her words. “No one has touched me or even kissed me since him. It’s just been you.”
My lips crash against hers, my hands finding their way back to her ass and gripping her tightly. Together, we rock her hips back and forth over my hard cock. Her head is tilted back, and her eyes are tightly closed. The moonlight shines down on us, and I commit this to memory—the way she looks bathed in the moonlight, writhing against my cock.
“Don’t stop,” she moans when I loosen my grip, taking in her beauty.
“I’ve got you, babe.” I grip her ass, lift my hips, and guide her back and forth, over and over again.
“I….” She moans deep in the back of her throat.
“Come for me, Ris. Let me have it, baby. I’ve got you. Let go,” I coax her.
Her hands clamp down on my shoulders as she rides me. “Oh God, Easton!” She shouts out my name, and it takes everything I have not to blow my load in my pants like a teenager.
She slumps against me, and I take the opportunity to wrap my arms around her. She returns my embrace as if I’m her lifeline. What she doesn’t realize is that I want to be exactly that. Breaking our embrace, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her lips, then her chin. “I think that gives a new meaning to a home run,” I tease. Her laughter echoes throughout the stadium.
My cock is still in my pants, hard as steel, twitching and wanting more of her. This still qualifies as the hottest sexual experience of my life. Tonight just solidifies what I already knew: I’m in deep with this girl.
Time to bring my A game.I haven’t seen Easton since that night at the stadium. His schedule has been grueling with practices and two games this week. Mine has been just as crazy with work, class, and Paisley. He’s texted and called every day. He even tried to convince me to bring P to a game, but I declined. She’s talked about today all week. She loves the zoo, and she’s pretty fond of Easton too. I like to keep her on as much of a routine as I can, so a late-night game just wasn’t in the cards. Easton made me promise that his next weekend home game we would come. I caved. Of course I did. I can’t seem to tell him no. Not that I really want to. Something changed between us that night at the stadium. I still worry that this is all going to end in disaster. It’s not so much the heartache. P and I can get through that. It’s the thought of giving him all of me, and losing him. Not just breaking up, but something terrible happening to him. I could live with us not being together. I could handle that pain, so could P. We would have to. But truly losing him, not breathing the same air as him, that’s a fear I’m struggling with. After losing my father and then Steven…. Tragedy takes the men that I love, but there is something about him, his smile, or the way he treats me, and let’s not forget the way he is with Paisley. I can’t resist him. I just hope and pray it all works out in the end.
“Mommy, when will he be here?” Paisley says from her perch in the window. She’s been staring outside for the last twenty minutes.
“He should be here any minute.” I barely have the words out of my mouth when she screams “Easton!” and runs to the front door.
“Don’t open that door, missy,” I yell after her.
“But it’s East.” She says it like he’s her best friend—then again, in her four-year-old mind, he just might be.
