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She hits me with a soft smile. It’s the one where her jaw loosens, the corners of her mouth lift tentative, and I lose my shit wondering if what’s running through her head is as dirty as I think it is. The first time I saw it, we were nothing to one another. The last time? Before she left for work yesterday afternoon and had slipped to her knees, surrounding my dick with those sweet red lips. And she’s slain me every time in between when she’s called out my name, like I’m the sole man to have ever worked her body into a frenzy.
If I have my way, I’m the only one who will ever again.
Both her palms push at my chest, rolling me onto my back. Holly pushes my knees apart, settling between them. She plays with my balls and dips her head. I take a sharp inhale when her tongue connects with my hard cock. Before she can take me to the back of her throat—be the giver that she is and leave me with the impression like she hasn’t asked me to concede something I really, really want—my knuckle tilts her chin.
“Up here.” I tap her hip.
She tugs on my dick a few more times ahead of my fierce negotiations that she should instead brace her hands on my shoulders. Her legs splayed, I grip her ass with one hand, spreading her folds with the other.
We train our eyes on my fingers dipping into her core, spreading the sweetness over her cunt, and the way my thumb glides through, gathering the slickness to pinch and press and pinch again at the nub I love to suckle when I’m tongue fucking her.
Holly grabs her tits, moaning, “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”
Not that I need an owner’s manual to figure out this beauty, but I ask her what she wants anyway and do exactly as she says. Sometimes it’s better to be on the giving end because of what the universe decides you’re worthy of receiving back.
I got her and I’m going to give as good as I get to keep Holly. Even if she fights it at every mile because it’s so ingrained that she can’t make herself the priority.
Pushing two fingers inside of her, I curl them, adding a gentle tug back-and-forth to the slow rhythm of her hips. She detonates, and I rise, capturing her lips and her cries of pleasure. This moment is only for my heart to hear.
“Show me more of what you want,” I whisper, biting the shell of her ear when the quaking subsides and her pussy releases its grip on my fingers.
My girl suits me up, making sure my attention is rapt on the delicate stroke of her thumb and index finger rolling over my shaft. We both watch as she lines me up. Her knees spread farther apart and she sinks down. My erection disappears into her heat. And then she rides me while my hands caress the landscape of her body. There’s no view more spectacular than this.
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I take a bite, laughing while trying not to drop crumbs from the brownie wedge. Once again, Davina baked with my son while Cary and I were out at dinner.
Bhodi is wiping the chocolate Cary smeared on his face off with a towel. My son’s belly shakes as he does it. Taking the joke in stride, Bhodi pulls a fudge-laden red M&M off of Cary’s desert and puts it on my boyfriend’s nose. They constantly behave this way together and, where Cary now resembles Rudolph, the two launch into all things Christmas.
Davina gleefully talks about the traditions they had when Cary was little. Some are so close to the things that happened when I was a girl that I can see them playing out in my mind.
It’s August and my son’s holiday list is short, but not cheap. It has more to do with his age than his current surroundings. Although my gut tells me that unless I’m careful, there will be a lot of unnecessary gifts under the tree this year.
Smudge of brown still on his nose, Cary pulls Bhodi to his stomach. He flashes me an expression as warm as the brownies are gooey when Bhodi’s arms wrap around him. Bhodi steps on Cary’s feet and the two maneuver to the sink.
“So what now?” Cary asks after washing up
We’re dressed. Not to the nines, but the restaurant we’d gone to was lovely and new to me. It felt good to get cleaned up, wash off sweat, sand, and sunscreen, after spending the day on the beach. I’d put work worries behind me for the next few days following a call with Kelsey, who offered to rework Sweet Caroline’s schedule for me. Giving Kelsey the task in a pinch and her willingness to send an SOS if the changes took on any water was reassuring.
It’s normal for Bhodi to want to go for a late swim. He’s picked up his hand-held gaming system instead, engrossed in the same game as he watches on television. There’s no sense in urging my son away. Bhodi’s been active all day.
Davina holds up a paperback and puts on her readers. “Don’t get any older, Holly. It’s a trap. My crow’s feet are from squinting at the page.” Her humor is self-deprecating, yet Davina hardly shows her not-quite fifty years at all.
And while we’re on the subject, my ass does Cary’s mother have arthritis. We’ve hacked out more bushes in the gardens here and in Brighton this summer than I can shake a stick at.
“I guess it’s you ’n me then. Let’s go sit outside.” Cary pours us wine, carrying the glasses down the stairs to the pool.
He gives me mine and sets his on a side table next to a lounger. Cary grabs a spot on the long part of the chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. I settle beside him, sipping the tart, bold red he’s chosen.
He kisses my temple and we sit in absolute stillness, listening to the sounds all around us. Cars on the road out front. The rustle of birds and animals in trees. Security lights switch on in another backyard and there’s a splash from the neighbor’s pool. We’re in the final stretch of summer vacation and I don’t think I’ve lived a more perfect year.
I shouldn’t love the way Cary loves me so much. Alone with my thoughts, it reinforces the time will come when the other shoe drops and all this ends. Nonetheless, I’m grateful he treats me like I’m precious to him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back to spend another season here—vacationing in the Outer Banks seems like a rite of passage; something that happens once if you’re lucky and with every intent on coming back whenever possible.
I’m resigned to that not happening, but I also want to believe that at least Cary and I will still be a couple come Christmas. Not for anyone’s sake but my own.
