I squeeze the tit and thumb the nipple until it’s pert and hard. My other hand slides between Tinsley’s legs. Her sex is wet and ready. If I can’t start my day like this, I don’t want to ever wake up again.
Her breath hitches as I push inside of her.
“Morning, babe,” I murmur in her ear.
“Morning,” she mumbles.
I take my time with her. No need to hammer into her like I’m not ever going to get the chance again. I love her up leisurely, first lying down and then pushing her onto her knees so that I can watch my cock shuttle in and out of her drenched cunt while her ass shakes with every stroke.
When she comes, I flip her over onto her back, fold her knees to her shoulders, and stroke her until her orgasm curls her toes and wrenches a cry from her that is so loud and long I have a brief moment of worry that Sol is going to barge in. The door stays firmly shut, and my last thought before I empty inside of Tinsley is that this life could not be more perfect.
“You’re going to have to help me out of bed. I think my legs are broken.” Tinsley flops one arm onto the mattress.
I smirk and pick the woman up in my arms, carrying her to the bathroom. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“Other than classes and homework, not much. I should make a decision about the New Arch donation. How about you?”
I turn the shower on and wait for the water to get hot before pulling her inside with me. “I’m going down to the dock to see if there’s other work for me. I’ll finish making notes about the New Arch thing and follow up with Edwards on the Sterling background thing. I might go to Sterling’s old neighborhood and poke around, too.”
I lather up her hair and then soap her sweet body down. It doesn’t take much to convince her to ride me on the shower bench.
“You need to leave.” She pushes me out the door after she comes. “I’ll never get ready at this point.”
“I was going to stop after this last round,” I protest, but she’s not having any of it.
She slams the door in my face, so I take the hint, towel myself dry, and get dressed.
Sol is in a small dining nook off the kitchen on the first floor when I wander down to get some breakfast.
“You feeling okay?” I ask. There’s a basket full of muffins and fruit. I take a blueberry muffin and send a text to the chef that I’d like some bacon and eggs. That’s how it’s done here in Tinsley’s house. Someone else cooks for you and cleans for you, and if you try to do it yourself, you get scolded. It’s odd and feels wrong, but I’m trying to adjust.
“I would be even better if I didn’t have to hear you and Tinsley having sex.” Sol glowers. “Can’t you shut the door?”
“The door was shut. I’ll ask for some soundproofing to be installed.”
Sol groans and covers her face. I reach over and pat her on the head, but she knocks my hand away before I can make contact.
“I’m bringing home the worst possible man and screwing him in the entry,” she announces, sitting up straight.
“And then I’ll kill him and bury him in the back yard. Oh, hey, Chef Francois. Thanks for the protein.” I take the plate from the man who has just appeared.
Sol groans again, sliding down the chair in a half-baked attempt to disappear. I dig into my eggs and bacon, and Chef Francois merely nods and returns to the kitchen, my threats toward this theoretical man not fazing him at all. Glad to know we’re all on the same team.
Halfway through gulping down my meal, Edwards arrives with a briefcase and a happy face, and by happy, I mean he’s not scowling.
“Leo, I’m glad you’re here. Is Tinsley around?”
“She’s getting ready.”
“We have class in”—Sol checks the clock on her phone—“fifteen minutes.”
“I’m here,” Tinsley chirps.
“Great.” Beaming, he whips out a sheaf of papers and hands a copy to both Tinsley and me. “I’m happy to report that I’ve found a way to invalidate the will. Most conditional clauses in wills are upheld so long as they don’t violate this thing called public policy, and the courts have refused to invalidate wills that require marriage or even children in order to carry on the line, but a will has to be witnessed by two people. One of the individuals who witnessed the will signing was Judge Torrence Cane, and at the time, he was taking opiate medications for a spinal problem. He hadn’t disclosed this when we asked him to witness.”
With every word that comes out of Edwards’ mouth, my mood sinks deeper and deeper. Maybe he’s the person I should kill and bury in the back yard.