Page 8 of An Illicit Seduction

“Mama? Where you at?”

Seraph pushed open the front door of her mother’s townhouse and tucked her keys into the pocket of her coat, scanning the open-concept first floor in one swoop. She kicked off her shoes and jogged up the steep flight of steps, checking the two bedrooms and finding them both empty.

“Mama!” She called out once more after she descended the steps and headed to the garage. It was dark and empty, and her mother was nowhere in sight. There was only one last place for her to check. The door that led to the backyard was through the kitchen, so she crisscrossed back through the house from the garage, which was near the front door. As soon as she stepped out onto the porch and looked to her left, she saw her mother leaning against the round glass table, the centerpiece of her patio furniture, holding a glass in her hand. Eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips and pulled the door closed behind her before walking toward her.

“Woman, I have been looking everywhere for you! I need to tell you about—”

The words dried up on her tongue when her mother turned around and Seraph saw who sat at the table. Damon was slouched in the seat opposite Joyce, staring at Seraph with a slight smirk at the corner of his lips and nothing but heat in his eyes. Her gaze flickered from the silent man to her mother, who had set her glass on the table and spread her arms wide.

“Hey, baby! Look who stopped by to see me!” Joyce didn’t seem to notice that her daughter had frozen in place with wide eyes trained on the unexpected guest. She crossed the few steps that separated them, wrapping Seraph in a tight hug before kissing her cheek and grabbing her hand to pull her closer to the table. Then she sat down and retrieved her glass that was filled more than halfway with a dark brown liquid that Seraph knew without a doubt was her mother’s home-brewed sweet tea.

“I was shredding the chicken for the buffalo macaroni and cheese I was making for our lunch date when the doorbell ring. Imagine my surprise when I saw Damon standing on the other side of the door!” She smiled as Damon pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Where’s my hug?” he asked, holding his arms out to Seraph.

Seraph took a step backward and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here, Damon?”

Joyce’s smile grew. “Aww, honey, don’t be like that. I know our lunches are important to you, but it’s okay to have a visitor just this once. Be nice to him.” She grabbed Seraph’s arm and pushed her directly into the circle of Damon’s arms.

Turning at the last moment, Seraph pulled herself up short before colliding with him and tilted at the waist to offer him a side hug. Her aim was to keep as much space in between them as possible, but it didn’t seem to matter as Damon pressed his lips to the side of her neck and reached one hand around her back while the other quickly palmed her ass. Gasping, she jerked back, pressing her hands against his chest to push him away.

“Stop, Damon.”

“What’s going on?” Joyce’s sharp voice broke the silence, and Seraph looked over at her mother who stared at the two of them suspiciously. “Are you messing with my baby, Damon?”

Damon shook his head, that irritating smirk still plastered on his face. “Not at all, Auntie Joyce. Just hugging her too tight.”

Lips twisted and eyes narrowed, Seraph turned to her mother. “No, Mama. He grabbed my—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud car horn startled her, and her mother’s phone immediately began to ring. Seraph watched a pleased look appear on her mother’s face as she looked at her phone.

“Hold that thought, baby. My friend is out front.” Without giving Seraph an opportunity to ask what she meant by “friend”, Joyce took off around the side of the house, fingers running through her sleek bob as she tossed over her shoulder, “You’d better be nice to my baby, Damon, or I’m putting your ass out!”

Not sparing Damon a glance, Seraph immediately bolted back into the house as soon as her mother was out of sight, attempting to put some much-needed distance between the two of them. She rushed into the kitchen, placing her hands on the cool, stone countertop and letting her head hang dejectedly. She’d managed to avoid bumping into Damon at work for the past week and now, he’d shown up at her mother’s house? What were the fucking odds? Was he still on drugs? Is that why he felt comfortable gripping her ass in front of her mother as if it was the most natural thing in the world?

“You running from me?”

Shocked, Seraph spun around and locked eyes with Damon, who leaned against the door that led to her mother’s backyard. She hadn’t heard the ever-present squeal of the screen door opening and closing, and he seemed to appear out of thin air. As she tried to figure out how he had managed to get inside so quietly, the smirk on those full, brown lips of his distracted her. How dare he look at her like that? As if he hadn’t just groped her?!

Fueled by her anger, she stalked toward him, cocking her arm back and slapping him across the face.

“Don’t you ever again in your life put your hands on my ass, Damon!”

When he didn’t so much as blink, she felt a stab of concern slash across her chest and took a single step backward. His lack of reaction was…odd.

He rolled his head in a circle, cracking his neck in the process before meeting her gaze again. The smirk had finally dropped from his face.

“Can I put my mouth on it?”

“You’re a—huh?”

“What about my dick?” He stepped toward her, and she answered his movement by taking another step back.

Damon dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. “You told me not to put my hands on your ass again, so I asked if I could use my mouth or my dick instead.” He continued forward until Seraph’s back hit the counter. He placed one hand on the counter behind her and the other on her waist, the heat from his fingers singeing her over the thin fabric of her dress.

“What about… in it?” he asked in a low, sensual voice. “Can I put my dick in your ass, Seraph?”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat and stared up into the eyes of the man she’d known since he was six years old. There was nothing recognizable in those brown depths, and that was perhaps more terrifying than the way her body heated at his lewd questions.