My Dad's Best Friend Moved Into My Spare Room After His Divorce, and the Promise He Made My Father Lasted Four Days novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: Mine

I had the belt off him before the bedroom door closed behind us.

It was nine o'clock on Saturday night, the light was going purple in the dormer, and both windows were wide open to the yard.

Ed stood in the middle of my attic with his hair in his eyes and a plate of Dad's brisket still on his breath.

He had carried Walter up the stairs in his arms.

Walter had not been consulted.

He was lying on the rug now with his head on his paws, looking betrayed and thrilled.

"Rules," I said.

"You have rules?"

"Tonight I have one. You don't touch anything I don't say."

He looked at the belt in my hand.

"Is that for me?"

"It's for the headboard."

His eyes went dark.

"Lori."

"Take off your shirt."

He took off his shirt.

It came over his head in one pull and he dropped it on the floor.

I looked at him for a while, the whole broad plain of chest and the gray in the hair on it.

I looked at the scar I'd learned to kiss.

I pushed him down on the bed.

He lay back in the middle of the quilt.

I climbed over him and took his right wrist in my hand and wound the belt around it.

Then the left.

Then I looped the leather through the iron bars of the headboard and buckled it.

He tested it.

It held.

"You've done this before," he said, hoarse.

"I read a book."

"Did the book say what happens next?"

"The book said you're mine."

I said it low.

He went still.

I unbuttoned his jeans and drew them off him with his boots, and sat back on my heels at the foot of the bed.

He was hard against his stomach, flushed to the root, already shining at the tip.

His wrists strained once in the leather and went quiet.

"God," he whispered. "Look at you looking."

"I'm not done looking."

"Take your time."

"I intend to."

I took my dress off over my head.

I wore nothing under it.

I knelt between his thighs and started with his knee, with a long slow line of kisses up the inside of the leg.

My hand cupped his balls, not moving, just holding the weight.

His breath sawed.

I kissed the crease of his hip.

Then I put my teeth to the bone on the left side, right where he'd marked me, and bit.

He cried out.

I held on and sucked.

I held the skin between my lips for a long time.

When I let go, the mark was a red oval the size of a thumbprint.

"There," I said.

"Lori, Jesus."

"Where you'll see it in the shower."

I licked up his shaft in one broad stripe and took the tip in my mouth.

He swore, long and low.

I drew back and teased the head with my tongue, a circle, a flick, a long soft pause, and I watched his stomach clench.

"Don't stop."

"Is that an order?"

"It's a request."

"Ask nicer."

His head went back into the pillow.

"Please," he said. "Lori, please, God, please."

I took him deep.

I took him slowly, an inch at a time, and sucked as I came up.

I swallowed around him on the way down and listened to him break apart.

The belt rattled on the iron.

I pulled off and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist.

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