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On the coffee table, my phone chimed with a message.
I leaned over the armchair to grab it. “Speak of the devil. Or the stepdevil. It’s Willow, my father’s wife. I asked her for mom’s number.”
Jackson moved in behind me. Pushed my hair to one side and kissed my neck. I hooked his waistband and pulled his body against mine, trying to focus on tapping out a reply. He ran his hands under my shirt and caressed my belly.
I’d never get enough of his touch. It scared the hell out of me, how strong my need was getting, but all I wanted was more of him.
Jackson dropped to his knees and kissed my leg.
For dinner, we’d thrown on shorts and T-shirts, the apartment cosy from the central heating on high to keep at bay the winter’s night.
It made easy access for him to ease his fingers into my clothes and caress my hips.
The phone in my hand rang, the call coming over the social media app I’d used for messaging.
“It’s Willow.”
“Answer it. She can’t track ye,” he commanded.
“With you doing that?”
He tugged my shorts off me. Made me widen my stance so I was bent over the arm of the soft chair with my legs apart.
Then he kissed my ass. “Go ahead and talk.”
I thumbed to answer the call, putting her on loudspeaker. “H-hello?”
“Ariel, it’s Willow. I got your message. I’m driving, so if there’s background noise, ignore it.”
Jackson glanced his fingertips over my swollen pussy.
My breathing caught. “Thanks for calling.”
“I’ve expected you to ask about your mom for a long time,” she continued, giving me a gentle telling-off for my neglect as a daughter.
I couldn’t care less about my stepmother’s opinion. She wasn’t even that much older than me. My focus was squarely on what Jackson was doing between my legs.
“Uh-huh,” I managed.
“Her husband is a piece of work,” Willow continued. “Did you hear about the deal where he undercut Rosso and nearly brought a war?”
“Tell me,” I said, needing a moment, though I didn’t give a damn about Mafia battles, and my father had done enough dodgy shit to have no leg to stand on. Rosso was an East Coast mobster he’d once messed with.
In all this time, I’d never forgotten a name.
Try as I might, thoughts of my parents had chipped away at the wall I’d put up between my old life and new. Dad had never concealed his business dealings from me. He didn’t like to acknowledge my presence so clearly thought it beneath him to censor his words around his daughter. If Willow was shocked by my mother’s husband, she’d blow a gasket at what Dad had done. Betrayal in their circle was a death sentence.
She gave up a string of gossip, the sounds of traffic ebbing and flowing around her words.
Jackson slid two fingers inside me, then brought them out to rub my wet arousal up and down my core. Then he came back to my rear hole. He grazed a finger over it, teasing that untouched place.
I stilled, fascinated.
He penetrated me there, just lightly.
God, that felt strange, but also good. I needed more.
He paused, as if waiting for my go-ahead. I flexed my hips to encourage him.
