He brushes his fingers down my thighs before gripping each of them. He spreads me wide to make room for himself. His warm breath tickles my sex. I hear him take a deep breath and realize he’s breathing me in.
“Corby.” I moan his name. I reach down, digging my fingers into his hair.
“You keep saying my name like that I might come before I get inside of you.” That only makes me do it again. “Tease,” he growls. Before I can be a smartass back, his tongue is circling my clit as he does some teasing of his own. He takes me to the edge, only to pull back.
“Please,” I whimper, not sure I can take much more. I need to come, but at the same time I’m enjoying every second of this. My mind is clear, and all I can think about is Corby and that mouth of his on my body.
“You don’t have to beg. I’m sorry, sweetness. I was enjoying myself. I’ll give you what you need.” My back bows off the bed when he sucks my clit into his mouth. His hand comes up and pushes me back down as his tongue hits my clit perfectly. The orgasm explodes throughout my body.
I scream his name. My whole body tingles. I lie in his bed happy there is no light on and he can’t see the dopey smile on my mouth right now.
He kisses the inside of my thigh before he trails kisses back up my torso. His mouth takes mine, and I taste my orgasm on his lips. My body starts to heat again. That is until my mom’s ring tone fills the room, snapping me right back to reality. My eyes spring open.
“My mom.” I wiggle under him. He reluctantly lets me go. It’s then I realize I don’t even know if Corby has a mom and dad. Well, of course he has them, but are they in his life? There are so many things I don’t know about him, and here I was about to have sex with him.
I snatch my phone up, answering it. I didn't tell my mom that I wouldn't be home tonight. It’s not that I have a curfew but more of a safety thing.
“Hey, mom.” I try to sound super casual.
“Everyone is talking about how you left the diner with some hunk of meat.”
“What?! I report the news. Not everyone else,” I huff. I love hearing gossip, but it could also kill a story for me real quick because everyone already knows everything. Then again, it can be rather helpful at times.
“So you’re okay?” Her tone turns more serious, making me sit up.
“I’m fine,” I reassure her.
“That’s good, honey, because someone did a number on your car.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need you to come home. Graham is here making a report now.”
“Okay. What exactly did you mean when you said they did a number on my car? Like slash my tires?” This is terrible but also could be a story.
“That and some other things.”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her.
“Love you.”
“Love you too,” I tell her before I hang up. The room fills with light, blinding me. Corby still has his jeans on. I’m naked as the day I was born.
“What’s going on?”
“Someone vandalized my car!”
“You sound excited about this.”
I rush over, getting dressed. “It might be a story.”
“You got a pissed-off ex?” he asks next.
“No.” I haven't even begun to think why someone would do something to my car. He grabs a sweater, pulling it on.
“Let’s go.” He pulls me close to him. “While we’re there we’ll get your stuff.”
Now all I can think about is my parents meeting Corby and my mom knowing I was just in his bed. Lovely. She is going to scare him off with talk of grandbabies and weddings. I text her quickly to tell her to play it cool, to which she responds she’s always cool.
Well, crap.
Chapter Fifteen
Corby
“You look like you could bench Glory.” Judy’s eyes appraise me with a frankness that makes me wish I had tossed a coat over my sweater.
“Mom, please,” Glory says from her crouched position near the front tire.
We couldn’t get a good look at the car last night, and it was damn late, so we came back this morning. The sheriff asked a few questions before he took off doing fingerprints and said he’d call if he had any more questions. Glory is still looking for clues.
“It’s a rhetorical question,” her mom shoots back. The older woman smiles and reaches out to squeeze my arm. “You feel solid for a writer.”
I flex for her, and she giggles.
Glory shoots upright and stomps over. “You did not just squeal like a girl.”
“He flexed for me,” her mother says in protest. She pokes my bicep, and I oblige her once again. I mean, this is Glory’s mom. I want her to like me, and if that means allowing her to fondle my arm muscles one or twice, so be it.