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“Mom?” Rory’s voice pierces through the haze and we jerk back in tandem, springing apart like two teenagers caught making out in the theater.
Rory’s voice came from the living room, so I’m sure she didn’t see anything… but still, that was close. We need to talk to her. We need to talk to each other.
Before I can say a word, Izzy a little breathlessly, is already out of my arms, asking what Rory needs. A drink? Soda? Perfect. She’s got a drink in hand and is with Rory in the living room in ten seconds flat, like the good mother she is.
“Bring the pizza,” she says without even a glance back at me.
Rory conks out halfway through the movie. I blame the copious amounts of sugar we let her have. Izzy drapes a brand new throw blanket over her and holds a finger to her lips. She motions toward the patio, but I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom instead. I intend to finish what we started in the kitchen, and hopefully, there won’t be any more interruptions.
Izzy perches on the edge of the bed while I gently shut the door. I turn to find her running her hand appreciatively over the comforter. “You made the right choice,” she says, referring to the bed she helped me pick out.
“You have good taste,” I say, coming to sit beside her. I clasp my hands in my lap and wait for her to tell me what’s so obviously on her mind.
“So, I take it you’ve figured out the truth…” she hesitates, “about Rory, before Evan told you?”
I nod. “I’ve known since the hospital incident.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You knew all that time?”
Her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”
She’s sorry? Maybe. Or maybe she’s about to find out just how sorry she should be. I turn so I’m facing her. I thread my fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her skull as I tug her toward me. She complies, her hands instantly clutching my shoulders, her green eyes wide, wary, uncertain.
“What are you doing?” She asks.
“Showing you exactly what you missed out on.” I kiss her hard enough to bruise, and she moans low in the back of her throat. The sudden urge to rip all of her clothes off catches me by surprise. It’s like I can’t get to her fast enough. Every second I’m not inside her is torture.
She must feel the same sense of urgency because her hands drop straight to the button on my jeans. She pops it open and yanks down the zipper. My cock springs free, alreadyweepingat the tip. I walk her back toward the dresser until her back hits the edge. I grip her hips and she understands without being told. She pushes her jeans down over the swell of her hips and lets me set her on the dresser’s edge.
Our eyes lock together as I push her panties to the side, not even bothering to remove them. Something’s different, I think it’s the freedom now that the huge secret is out of the way, but it feels like it’s more than that.
Izzy has this unspoken question in her eyes.What is this? What are we going to do?
That’s a question I have no interest in answering tonight.
So I answer without words. I reach between us and guidemyself towards her center. “Fuck,”I groan as I brush against her. Izzy sharply exhales.
I rub myself along her center a few times, getting ready. Izzy’s head is thrown back, fingers digging into my clothed shoulders. I want her watching me, so I stop moving abruptly.
Her confused eyes snap towards me, and I press forward making us both moan in tandem.
She tries to close her eyes again. “Look at me,” I say, not quite a command.
I guide her hands to hold the back of my neck, then grip her hips again, thrusting forward in slow rhythm. I guide her hips allowing her to grind against me as I thrust.
She cries out so loud that it rings in my ears. Warmth starts tingling from the base of my spine — winding tighter and tighter, but I’m not ready yet. I need to see her fall apart first.
“This is how it could’ve been, all this time,” I say, my thrusting growing frantic. “It still can be.”
She gives a nondescript grunt, and gives her best attempt at an adorable little pout. She can’t keep up the pretense of annoyance for long though. I hit that spot inside her and the pout falters.
“Is that what you want? This, every day? Us, together. A family?”
The look that crosses her face is overwhelmed, uncertain—but alsohopeful? “I don’t—”I can sense her slowly pulling away.
I kiss her, to save her having to answer. I feel her relief through her desperate kisses.
I can’t hold on much longer, so I reach down to circle my thumb around her moist sensitive spot. That’s what she needed. Her hands claw at my back like her life depends on it.
