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“Then I support you both,” Mom says. “Don’t forget, Lorelei, your father’s parents weren’t overly fond of me. They thought I was a hippy who’d derail their son’s hardworking nature. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually, we won them round.”
I mentally grab onto her words, praying the same can happen here.
“Are you sure we can’t come by?” I have to ask again.
“I’m sure. But please try not to stress about this. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have a big talk and air it all out. In the meantime, let me grab your PJs and toothbrush and bring them over. I’ll leave them outside.”
“You can come in, Mom.”
“I know. But I know us to know, Rory. We’ll end up discussing the whole thing and I think your father should be there for our talk.”
She’s right. “Okay. Yeah, I get that. Thank you.”
“I love you, baby. I’ll text you once I’ve left your things outside.”
“I love you, Mom. And thank you.”
She hangs up and I sit back, letting out a groan.
“Try not to stress about it,” I mutter, shaking my head. “How the heck are we supposed to do that?”
“We have to try.” Bennet shrugs. “There’s nothing to be done until tomorrow.”
Our eyes meet and my core warms, the message in his azures is so clear I almost leap into his lap right then.
“I’ll stay in the spare room,” I say quietly.
Say no. Say you want me to stay with you, Bennet.
But Bennet nods, looking like it costs him a great effort. “I think that’s probably for the best.”
Chapter Twenty
Bennet
I stare up at the ceiling, lying in my underwear on top of the sheets, trying to banish Rory from my thoughts.
Charging through the house and throwing the door to the spare room open, surging across the room and pouncing on her like a lion, mauling her as she whimpers and her slit becomes sopping wet for me…should be the furthest thing from my mind.
But I saw the looks she was giving me as I led her into the guest room, the way her cheeks turned a deep red, and the flush spread down her neck, making me think about how that blush would spread all over her body. I can’t stop thinking about how red those meaty perfect thighs turned after I went down on her, as though her skin was blushing from the pleasure she’d squirted out of her slit.
Fuck.
I need to think about Rick…
And yet there’s nothing to be done until the morning.
Rory is under my roof now. She’s just down the hall. The thought of how close she is makes me want to roar like a lion, to throw my head back and let out a carnal vibration that will bring the whole house crashing down.
Sighing, I stand up, feeling wide awake even if it’s almost one in the morning. At least I know that Rory should be asleep right now, meaning I have no choice but to wait to see her.
Unless I slipped quietly into her bedroom and slid my hand up between her legs, letting her wake up to the tingling in her pussy, making her wet before I slid my finger inside, coaxing her closer and closer to the edge.
Fuck, fuck.
My cock hurts it’s so hard, a solid rod in my boxer briefs, urging me to follow through with the fantasy even if I know it’s wrong.
Once she was good and soaked for me, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I’d tear off her clothes and lay her on her back, meaning I’d get a greedy view of those curvy voluptuous breasts.
They’d bounce for me as I fucked her, up and down, hypnotizing me with each thrust of my dick. Maybe her little virgin hole would find it difficult to take me at first, but then she’d start creaming and whimpering, unable to stop herself.
But I’m the one who needs to stop myself. I can’t keep letting my thoughts go on like this.
Otherwise, I really will lose control.
I look down over my torso, at my boxers with my cock pushing solidly against the fabric. My fingers twitch, telling me to grab onto my thick shaft and pump as my thoughts fill with my Lorelei.
How can I, though, when I know the real perfect woman is just down the hall?
“She’s asleep,” I growl under my breath. “Just wait until—”
I pause when the floorboards creak right outside my door. I’ve lived in this house, alone, for years. I know the sounds it makes at night, and it’s never creaked like that before.
“Rory?” I snarl, stalking over to the door, both dreading and needing it to be her.
“I can’t sleep,” she murmurs, sounding pouty and bratty and enticing like she’s begging me to tire her out before she rests for the evening.
“Rory, if I open this door…”
“I know,” she whispers.
