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“You’re going to have such a good day!” I tell him.
“Mama!” he beams, his cheeks as pink as peaches.
Regretfully, I set him back down and nudge him toward Harriet.
“You just go along with Harriet now,” I tell him. “She’s got things for you to do! I will see you later!”
Press lifts his fists and jumps toward her, working out a little extra energy as he obeys like the good little boy that he is.
“Birthday!” he declares as Harriet holds out her hand for him and guides him toward the back.
Quickly, my to-do list overwhelms my fond feelings about Press and I hurry up the stairs, trying to focus on what needs to be done first.
My hair is all right, but I can’t quite get my outfit on yet or risk soiling it if I need to help the caterers or something. First, I should probably check my emails and make sure none of the guests are trying to get a hold of me right now. That’s definitely my priority.
As I rush into the bedroom, I hear the door close solidly behind me and turn around. Sturgill cocks an eyebrow at me and purses his lips.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.
“Oh!” I stammer with my hands up. “Actually, almost everything is done. I’ve got just a little list of things I need to check into… Maybe look at my emails… Did you see the ponies? Are they going to be okay? Do you think any of them have diseases?”
Sturgill scowls, walking slowly toward me.
“I think it will probably all be fine,” he says in a low, decisive voice.
“Well, you know chickens have salmonella, right? And possums have herpes? Or is it leprosy?”
He looms closer, gradually corralling me toward the bed.
“That’s armadillos, and there are no armadillos in the petting zoo,” he says calmly.
“Sturgill, sweetheart, I really don’t have time for this,” I tell him in an apologetic rush. “I have a million things to—”
“Hush now,” he says in my ear, sending chills down my body. I feel his fingers undoing each button of my dress, sliding it from my shoulders.
“Wait, I left Didi alone with the—”
“Don’t worry,” he counters.
And even though I want to continue worrying, I can’t. He says the words to me and it’s like a command in a computer program. I can almost hear the worry leaving my muscles as I slump backward, letting him lay me sideways across the bed. It doesn’t even bother me that the bed was already made, and I am messing up the sheets right now.
“I’m not worried, it’s just—”
And then I can’t continue, because he takes my breath away. Pushing my thighs open, he slides his hand between them, dragging his finger inside my panties, instantly turning my whole body on like a Christmas tree.
His lips are tender but determined, drawing the words away from me with each sweet kiss. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t resist. I let him undress me completely, sliding my panties over my knees and dropping them to the floor.
“Excellent,” he breathes encouragingly. “Now just relax.”
The whole world falls away, crumpling like powdered sugar as he drops kiss after kiss, finding a path from my collarbone to my navel. Shivers race across my skin. My legs fall open as his mouth finds my sex and he begins to tease me, draping my thighs over his shoulders.
I know there is no sense in fighting him. He has trained my body so well now, I can only obey his commands. If he needs me to relax, I am going to relax. If he needs me to lie here and l
et him lavish my body with his attention, that’s exactly what I'll do.
We gave up the vibrator a long time ago. All I need is Sturgill. He gives me what he can give no one else: absolute devotion.
His tongue is hot and quick, fluttering over my sex, probing me gently. My hips churn slightly, eager for more. More of him, more pressure, more of everything.
