“Do what?”
“You always ma’am me,” she says with a smile.
I tuck her hair back behind her ear. “You sayin’ you don’t like it?”
“I like it. I just always wonder why you do it with me. I mean,”—she lifts a shoulder in a half shrug—“I get that it’s bein’ respectful, but it’s not really necessary with me, is it?”
My expression sobers and I cup the side of her face in my hand. “It’s more necessary with you than with anyone else.”
Because you mean more to me, I add silently.
When she studies me as though trying to decipher my words, I offer, “You’re the most important person in my life, and I never want you to think I don’t respect you.”
“Oh, Hollis,” she whispers. “I could never think that.” She places a small kiss to each corner of my lips. “You’re always a gentleman.” She gently sprinkles kisses along my jawline. “And the world needs more Hollises out there.”
I grin just before a groan escapes me when her mouth veers off to place openmouthed kisses along my neck. “Can’t have that. Because you might get confused and wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between all of us.”
Her soft laughter against my skin makes me shiver seconds before she straddles me. She reaches for me, where I’m half hard already, and wraps her fingers around me. Her smile is knowing, and damn, the way her eyes have that mischievous glint does something to me.
“Look at you, gettin’ all bold.” I smirk.
She stills and those blue eyes go wide, her expression turning to worry. A little nervous, even. “Is that okay? To touch you again like this?”
“It’s more than okay.” My eyes flick down to where her hand grips my dick. “Reckon you can tell that.”
Her lips form a slow grin and she glides a smooth palm down my length, slowly fisting me in gradual strokes. “Think you’re up to showin’ me how it’s done again?”
Fuck yes. “You’ve gotta be sore, Shortcake,” I protest. Thank God, I’ve still got a lick of common sense lingering.
She doesn’t miss a beat. “If you’re gentle, there won’t be a problem.”
Ah, look who’s become a little siren.
I close my eyes on a wince, my nostrils flaring while I fight against the urge to take her at her word. Keeping my eyes pinched closed, I grit out, “I don’t want to hurt you,” on a slow exhale.
She leans over me, her hair tickling my chest. Her warm breath against my ear has my dick pulsing. “You’ll only hurt me if”—her hold on me shifts slightly as she guides me to her entrance—“you don’t let me have you again.”
When she glides my tip along her slick lips, her wet heat practically singes me. I press upward instinctively, my dick already on board. I grip her hips, clenching them tight. “You’re torturin’ me,” I complain in a hoarse whisper.
“Then let me put you out of your misery.”
She sinks down on me with aching slowness, giving her body time to adjust to having me inside her again. Her slick pussy grips me tight and I clench my jaw, doing my best to resist the violent urge to drive upward in a deep thrust. Once she’s fully seated, perspiration beads my forehead from the restraint.
Her hands brace on my chest, and I open my eyes to find her watching me with a slightly glazed look. Her lips are parted, her nipples puckered. A sense of wonder crosses her face when she lifts slightly and slides back down. “Is it always like this?” she whispers raggedly.
I move, one arm reaching to cup her nape, threading my fingers in her hair to guide her mouth to mine. Before I claim her lips, I murmur three words that are startling in how much truth they hold.
“Only with you.”
Hollis
I should’ve taken Magnolia up on her offer to come with me, but she looked so sleepy and happy, I couldn’t bring myself to make her get out of bed. Hell, it was hard enough dragging myself away from her this morning.
I told her I’d bring back coffee for us unless she wanted to hit the diner when I got back. She’d kissed me and told me she voted for the coffee option because she didn’t want to share me with anyone else just yet.
We’d sneaked inside my house late last night to shower and brush our teeth. I’d never been more thankful for my mom’s room being on the other end of the hallway. Afterward, we curled up in the treehouse, sleepy and worn out in the best way possible.
Our final words from last night still linger in my mind, and I wonder if I’m reading too much into it.
“Love you, Shortcake,” I murmured while I held her in my arms, sleep quickly dragging us under.
Her drowsy voice had mumbled back, “Love you, too,” instead of the usual response of, “But not like that.”
I know she was probably worn out and too tired to realize what she’d said, but it made the possibilities hammer away at me because…shit. I’ve always loved Magnolia Barton. And, sure, it didn’t start as more than a friendship kind of love, but without me realizing it, over the years it slowly morphed. She’s always been a part of me, ingrained in my soul.
Now, after brushing my teeth, I pull my keys from the pocket of my khakis. I’m dressed in a collared polo, but I’m still wearing my leather flip-flops Magnolia got me last Christmas. I get as far as pulling open the front door of the house when I hear her.
“Finally finished with your little rich whore?” My mother’s voice is full of malice.
I don’t bother turning around, but my spine stiffens. “You should watch your mouth. I’m not the helpless boy I used to be.”
I can practically feel her anger growing like an impending storm. “You’ll never be good enough for her. You’re crazy if you think they’ll accept you. You’re just charity for h—”
I slam the door closed behind me, cutting off her outburst, and quickly stride to my truck. Thankful that my mom’s car is in the garage, I maneuver and back around Magnolia’s car before I pull out of the driveway.
It takes less than ten minutes to find the attorney’s office. Herman Yates is an older gentleman in his late fifties. Impeccably dressed, he greets me with a firm handshake and guides me inside his office where we each take a seat on opposite sides of his desk.
He slides a thick file folder to the center of his mahogany desk and opens it. Resting his forearms on the wood, he peers at me with a somber expression.
“I have quite a few items I’ll need your signature on, and I’ll explain everythin’. Don’t hesitate to ask me questions if you need further clarification.”
Within minutes, he proceeds to blow my mind.
I stare at him in shock. “I’m sorry, sir. But did you say…?” I falter, unable to finish my question.
A look of understanding passes over his expression. “You inherit the house.“ He shuffles some papers, his index finger running down the paper before he nods in affirmation.
But that’s not what has me so stunned.
“I’m responsible for disbursin’ funds to…my mother?” I feel like an idiot for repeating everything, but I’m stunned.