Page 94 of Mommy

Fuck.

My moan has him momentarily letting go of my clit, chuckling. I greedily suck in a breath, hoping it’ll save me from drowning in my emotions.

It does no such thing.

My stomach tightens, muscles flexing as I feel the first wave drag me under.

I can’t breathe. I can do nothing but moan.

And he doesn’t stop.

Even when I cum, my thighs clenching around his head, locking him in place, he keeps up. His thrusts don’t subside and instead, they match my pace.

“Derek…”

He only shakes his head, his hand on my stomach drawing lazy circles onto my sweaty skin.

I have a few minutes to breathe, calming my erratic heartbeat before his tongue becomes more demanding again.

Again?

This time it only takes a few thrusts before a second orgasm shakes my body.

After the third I can’t feel my limbs properly. My head is fuzzy and when Derek kisses his way up my body and his face hovers over me I can’t help the words that come from my mouth.

“I love you.”

He chuckles.

“Love yaa too, mommy.”

He thinks I’m joking.

Maybe I am. I’m not sure about what’s real anymore. I’m about to pass out, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

Chapter forty eight

Derek

“Sir, I’ll need to actually see the dog.” I repeat my words for the thousandth time, the man before me crossing his arms before his frail chest once again.

“Why?” He challenges, making me clench my jaw because I explained this ten times before.

“There has been a complaint, you are accused of abusing this animal.” I grind out through my teeth.

My colleague is somewhere behind me, at least I hope he is. He’s one of the newbies that came in without a backbone so he won’t really be helpful, but at least when I asked him to tag along he looked somewhat interested. And I can take his uncertainty a lot better than the ignorance my older colleagues would’ve given me. Half of them are old fucks who don’t give a shit about animals, and the other half is on board with the whole pitbulls are monsters bullshit propaganda.

“Who?!” The arms uncoil before the unwashed shirt, sending a waft of stink my way as he aimlessly glances around himself. Up and down Skid Row, as if he suspects one of his neighbors to have ratted him out.

It wasn’t. There was another phone call this morning and like the last time, I was right on my way.

“That doesn’t matter.” I draw a breath, ready to ask one more time. “Sir, I have to see the dog or I’ll have to take you into custody.”

Fuck, I hope I won’t have to do that.

The man shifts around for a bit, but finally he nods.

His shirt hangs on his thin body, every piece of clothing on him dirty and already fraying at the edges.