At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(92)

“Joe?” she called, he’d woken her but she still sounded half-asleep.

“Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Okay,” she whispered and her body settled into his.

He didn’t know why she was there, didn’t know why she kept coming back, didn’t know, she could have a good man like Haines, why she left Haines’s house and ended her night in Cal’s bed.

And he didn’t care.

She was there.

Cal pressed into her and, within minutes, he was asleep.

Chapter Eleven

Big Purple Bow

I woke up, opened my eyes, lifted my head and looked up at Joe.

When I did, he dipped his chin and his beautiful, clear, sky blue eyes locked with mine.

He was wide awake.

I was pressed to his side, my thigh thrown over his and his arm was curled around my waist. His other arm was cocked, his head resting on his hand.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He looked at the clock then at me.

“I’m on my back, buddy.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head, planting my face in his chest.

What the hell was I doing?

I didn’t know but I knew what I was going to be doing.

I moved my face so my mouth was on him. Then I moved my body so it was straddling his. I slid down, enjoying what I was doing more and more, got close to my goal but he pulled me up so I was face-to-face with him.

“You gonna wrap your mouth around me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

His hands tugged at the tee I was wearing.

“You suck my dick, baby, you do it naked.”

I shifted, excitement gathering tight between my legs at his words then I sat up, still straddling him and pulled off his tee while he watched. Then I slid to the side, pulling down and kicking off my panties then I straddled him again, looking down.

“Happy?” I asked.

His hands spanned my ribs and he grinned.

“Yeah.”

“Do you mind if I carry on?” I asked.

“Have at it,” Joe invited.

I shook my head.

Then I had at him with my mouth then, when I knew he was close because his hands holding back my hair so he could watch became fists, I released him and positioned myself over him. Wrapping my hand around his cock, I guided it inside and then I rode him, one hand in the bed for leverage, one at his chest for contact. Both of his hands were at my hips, coaxing, encouraging.

“You don’t hurry, Vi, I’m takin’ over,” he warned, his deep voice hoarse.

“No you aren’t, this is my turn.”

“Your turn’s gonna come with my fingers or my mouth not my cock, you don’t hurry.”

I wanted it from his c**k so I rode him harder and he groaned.

“Christ, buddy, that ain’t helpin’.”

I leaned down and kissed him, still moving, Joe slid a hand between us and pressed a finger hard against my cl*t then that finger rolled.

I came instantly, moaning his name into his mouth.

“Thank Christ,” he groaned back and then his h*ps surged up and he came too.

I collapsed on top of him and both his arms wrapped around me, one going to my hair, pulling it away from my face then tangling in it and staying there.

“You gotta go home, baby,” he told me but he kept me locked in his arms.

“In a minute.”

“Vi, the girls.”

“They sleep late in the summer. Sometimes Keira sleeps until eleven.”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Honey, the neighbors.”

I blinked and my eyes with a view to his neck saw nothing.

He’d never called me “honey”.

I pulled myself together and whispered, “Joe, baby, in a minute.”

His arms gave me another squeeze and he muttered, “Not me who gives a shit.”

I couldn’t help it, I grinned.

Then I thought I was lying with Joe in his bed in the house where his son died, his father died and his ex-junkie-wife had committed criminally negligent involuntary manslaughter.

How he could be here, I didn’t know, I couldn’t imagine.

But I hated him there. He should sell that house. Why he didn’t and then never came back, I had no clue.

Then I wondered what I was doing there.

But I knew. Stupid me, coming home last night after a great night with Mike, great, the best, dumping my purse, going to my room, slipping off my shoes and lying on top of my covers, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Mike then my mind shifted against my will and I started thinking of Joe over here, in this house, this goddamned house, filled with memories of tragedy, and he was all alone.

I couldn’t fix him, I knew it, but here I was trying to do it.

Joe’s hand sifted through my hair then his fingertips came to my hairline and did it again, holding it back as he twisted his neck so his mouth could get to my ear.

“You’re stayin’, buddy, got a mind to eat you,” he murmured.

I shivered.

He never quit but I didn’t mind, not at all, I was freaking addicted to it.

I lifted my head but Joe’s hand didn’t leave my hair.

“I should go back,” I said, not moving.

“Yeah,” Joe replied, “you should.”

I still didn’t move. Neither did Joe.