Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(79)

Her tongue darts out, and she licks my balls. A primitive moan crawls up my throat, and my dick pulses when she rubs her finger against my taint, teasing my asshole.

“Get ready, babe. I’m about to blow your mind,” she promises.

Lo takes my cock into her mouth the same time one finger slides into my ass. She sucks me hard, pumping her finger in and out of my ass, while her free hand alternates between cupping my balls and holding the base of my shaft in her tight grip.

My eyes roll back in my head as I give myself over to sensation. Grabbing the back of her head, I hold her in place as I fuck her mouth raw. A familiar tingle starts at the base of my spine, and my balls tighten. I bite down on my lip to contain my roar as my orgasm rockets through me. I spill deep into her mouth, my cock pulsing as I release every single drop down her throat.

When she pulls her finger from my ass, I lift her up by the shoulders and make love to her mouth, savoring the taste of me on her lips. “God, I fucking love you,” I rasp over her mouth. “I must’ve done something right in this life to deserve someone like you.”

“Ditto, babe.” She pecks my lips softly, smiling as she eases out of my hold to wash her hands. I yank up my jeans and boxers, fixing myself into place, as Lo smooths out her hair and reapplies gloss to her lips.

We exit the bathroom with matching grins, walking into the dining room hand in hand. Four pairs of eyes swing our direction. “Harlow! Caz!” Alisha slurs, lifting a glass filled to the brim with clear liquid I know isn’t water. “How lovely to see you.” Her gaze drops to our conjoined hands, and she frowns, turning to her son. “Baby, why is your wife holding hands with your friend?”

Saint rolls his eyes to the ceiling while Theo stares at Lo and me, his cheeks flushing. I’m quite partial to that look on him, and my cock stirs in my jeans again.

If we don’t fuck soon, I’m likely to explode.

Galen sighs. “Mom, I just told you. Harlow is married to all of us.”

Alisha wrinkles her nose in distaste, and my anger rises. For once, couldn’t she put aside her own selfish thoughts and think of her son? “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Well, it is.” Galen’s tone is snippy as he stands, holding out the chair beside him for Lo. She kisses him briefly, before sitting beside him, and I drop into the chair on his other side.

Mrs. Murphy carries plates loaded with food into the room, and we tuck in. She leaves some extras in bowls in the middle of the table, along with two large pitchers of water, before excusing herself, pulling the heavy, ornate doors closed behind her.

No one is speaking—we’re too busy eating our body weight in pot roast—but it’s not awkward.

Until Alisha decides to put her big foot in it.

“It’s strange to think if I hadn’t aborted Trey’s baby you and your wife would share a sibling, isn’t it?” she says to Galen, grinning like she’s just told a joke.

All the blood drains from Lo’s face, and she shoves her plate away, knotting her hands in her lap.

“Mom.” Galen’s silverware clangs off the table as he drops it, thumping his fist on the table. “Why would you even bring that up?” he says, through gritted teeth, snagging Lo’s hand under the table.

“I don’t know, I just…” She shrugs, shooting a timid smile in Lo’s direction. Lo glares at her with murderous intent, and Alisha gulps. “It just popped into my head,” she blurts. “Ugh.” She slams her glass down, pressing her palms into her head. “I’m bad. Bad. Bad.” She slaps her cheeks, fisting her hands, and hitting herself in the face. She accidentally elbows her glass, and it crashes on top of the table, shattering and spilling vodka everywhere.

Lo reacts fast, jumping to her feet before vodka pours all over her.

“I’ll get Mrs. Murphy,” Theo says while Galen stands, going to his mom and prying her hands from her face. Her nails are unkempt, and she’s torn her frail skin. Little beads of blood seep from a small tear on her cheek.

“Mom, stop.” Galen holds her wrists down in front of her, as Saint slips out of the room.

“I’m sorry!” she whimpers, letting her head drop forward on his chest. “I know I mess everything up, but I’m not all bad. I’ve done good things.” She lifts her chin, peeking up at her son with a pleading expression.

I don’t know how the fuck Galen has put up with this for years. He deserves the Nobel fucking Peace Prize for his efforts.

Galen releases her hands as Saint steps back into the room. “Good things for you,” Alisha adds, cupping Galen’s face. “My baby. My precious boy. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

What a fucking joke.

This is going to sound cold, but, honestly, the best thing Alisha Lennox could do for her son is die and release him from the burden of caring for her.

She hiccups, and Galen’s pained eyes meet Saint’s over his mom’s shoulder. Saint sets the first aid box down on the table, and I bundle Lo in my arms as we watch Galen attend to the cut on her face.

Mrs. Murphy arrives to clean up the mess on the table, her sad gaze roaming over Alisha as she sobs into Galen’s shirt.

“I’ll get her to bed,” Mrs. Murphy says. “You finish your dinner.” She coaxes Alisha from Galen’s arms, and his shoulders slump as she’s led out of the room.