Soaring (Magdalene #2)(111)

I dropped the top and just contained myself from doing a whirl.

“You gonna get a dining room table, or is that space reserved for you to set up your Buddhist meditation space?” Auden teased.

I grinned at him. “The dining room table is foiling me.”

“You’ll need one, Uncle Lawrie, Mercer and Hart come for Thanksgiving,” Auden pointed out.

This was very true.

It was time to make the dining room table a mission.

“Just so you know, I talked with your Uncle Lawrie and they’re considering it, but Aunt Mariel might also be coming.”

Both kids did not look delighted with this news. Then again, having a soulless, emotionless vampire as an aunt to your favorite uncle was not something my kids liked either.

Pippa powered through first and suggested, “We can hit some stores today.”

I jumped on that trying not to appear like I was jumping on that. “You’re on.”

“God, furniture shopping,” Auden mumbled.

“Lobster at the Lobster Market for lunch, you come with your sister and me,” I bribed my son.

“Auden’ll do anything for lobster,” Pippa chimed in.

She didn’t have to tell me. I knew that.

“Add lobster chowder on top of lobster and I’m in,” Auden negotiated.

“Then we have plans,” I said.

Pippa looked sleepily excited.

Auden looked resigned but not surly.

And I was floating on top of the world.

* * * * *

“This is totally you,” Pippa declared.

I looked to my daughter who was holding up a bottle of perfume.

We were in Sephora. Dining room table shopping had been a bust. The Lobster Market had been a blast. And we were at the mall because Pippa wanted to go and because Auden’s friends were already there hanging.

So he was with his friends, and Pippa and I were dinking around shopping, something we’d done a lot before I’d lost my mind and my kids. Something we liked doing.

“Sock it to me,” I said and Pippa grabbed a paper strip, spritzed the perfume on it, waved it and then stuck it out to me.

I smelled it.

It was fresh and clean with a delicate floral background and hints of vanilla to mellow it out.

It was no Chanel No 5, but then again, that was the perfume to end all perfumes and nothing was.

But there was something about the scent my daughter chose for me that I loved. Subtle. Mellow. Fresh. But still complicated.

“Grab a bottle of that, sweets,” I said after sniffing it.

She smiled and did as asked.

We drifted away and she shared, “I need more mascara.”

“We’ll grab a tube,” I replied. “Have you experimented with bronzer yet?”

“No,” she told me.

I grinned at my girl. “Let’s go play.”

She grinned back.

Then my baby girl and me played with makeup.

* * * * *

I hit the garage door button and stepped out of the door that led to the garage after waving at my kids as they backed down my drive.

It closed on me and I wandered to the kitchen.

Smiling, I grabbed my phone and started alternately texting Lawr and Robin to share all the news of my first good weekend with my kids in over a year.

While doing this, my phone in my hand rang.

It was Mickey.

I answered it, “Hey, honey.”

“It’s after five. They gone?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Today good?” he asked.

He knew yesterday was, I’d reported it to him through texts.

“It was great, honey.”

“Right, then get your ass over here. Makin’ you dinner and it’s almost ready.”

My toes curled, my belly flipped and my soul took flight.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Amy?” he called before I could say good-bye, ring off and race over to his house (without looking like I was racing, obviously).

“Yes?”

“Bring a nightie.”

My knees wobbled, my belly dipped and my heart soared.

“Okay, Mickey.”

“See you in a minute.”

“You will. ’Bye.”

“Later.”

We hung up.

I dashed to get a nightie.

I shoved it in my purse with my phone, a small travel bag of facial cleanser and moisturizer, as well as an extra pair of panties.

Then I went over to Mickey’s.

Chapter Eighteen

Path That Was Dark and Forbidding

“Baby.”

I kept working Mickey’s cock.

“Amy.”

That was a growl.

I kept bobbing and sucking.

His hand cupped my cheek.

“Amy, baby, fair warning.”

Each word was a groan.

I slid him up, kept the tip in my mouth as I rolled it with my tongue and looked up his fantastic torso to his burning blue eyes.

That was mine. I gave him that.

Me.

Holding those eyes, I slid down, taking him deep.

His head fell back to the arm of my daybed and watching it, I felt a rush of wet hit between my legs.

Then I went for it, gave it, gave it good, and swallowed the evidence of the last.