Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) (27 page)

He still loves me.

He still trusts me as much as he did yesterday.

I press my lips to his neck. I know he wants his mouth on me, but he doesn't get that yet.

I suck on his earlobe until he's groaning my name. His eyelids press together. His fingers curl into his palms.

He tugs at the restraints but only enough to test them. When the cuffs pull at his wrists, he sighs with pleasure.

He really fucking likes being tied up.

And I really fucking love how much he likes it.

He turns his head, offering his ear to me. I lick, suck, and nibble until he's groaning in agony then I move to his other ear.

He groans as I push his head into the bed.

"Fuck, Willow." His hips shift as I tease his other ear.

His expression is hazy, lost in pleasure. It does things to me. It makes it really fucking hard to keep teasing him. But I need more of his ecstasy. I need to keep him feeling good for as long as possible.

I make my way down his chest. Then it's my tongue against his cock. He tastes so fucking good. I want to take him deeper, want to feel him coming in my mouth.

But not yet. I suck him off until he's groaning and shaking like he's almost there.

His groan is more agony than pleasure as I pull my mouth away, but his eyes are still hazy. He's still lost in how good this feels.

I flick my tongue against him one more time then I make my way up his body.

I plant my knees outside his chest and plant myself over him. My hand goes to his head. I guide him into position.

He moans against my inner thigh. Then his tongue is on me. He licks me up and down. His tongue plunges inside me again and again.

He moves faster than usual. He's hungrier, needier.

I shift my body, bringing my clit to his mouth.

He licks me until I'm at the edge. The tension in my core calls all my attention. For a moment, I forget about control entirely and I surrender to the sensation. The tension knots so deeply it hurts. It hurts in an amazing way.

With his next lick, I go over the edge. Pleasure spreads out through my core. All the way to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

No more teasing.

He needs to be inside me now.

I shift into position, checking Tom's expression to make sure he's still lost in pleasure.

He is.

Dammit, I love the way his eyes are hazy, the way his lips look are parted with a sigh. He's never this relaxed, this lost in sensation.

I plant my hands on his chest and lower my body onto his.

Tom groans as his cock strains against me. I tease myself with his tip again and again.

Again.

"Fuck, Willow." His nails curl into his palms. "Fuck me."

Fuck yes.

But first, I tease more. I tease until I can barely keep my eyes open. I tease until I can't take it anymore.

I spread my legs wider as I slide onto him. I take it slow, so I can feel every inch of him, feel the way my sex stretches around him.

There's no resistance today. I'm dripping wet. I'm desperate for him to come.

Using my hands for leverage, I slide myself over him again and again.

My eyes stay glued to him. I watch pleasure fill his expression. Watch his shoulders and chest shake as he gets to the edge.

For a moment, our gazes meet. So much passes between us—love, need, trust. He's always mine and I'm always his, but right now, he fucking feels like mine.

The pleasure on his face is intoxicating. I forget about how much I want to come with him. I only know that I want him to come.

I move faster, deeper, harder.

His hips shift up and down to match my movements.

"Fuck, Tom," I breathe. My cheeks flush as I issue the command. "Come inside me."

He groans with bliss.

A few more thrusts, and he's there. I watch his eyes roll back, his lips part with a dizzying mix of groans and sighs.

His cock pulses as he fills me.

I don't stop until I'm sure I have every drop of him.

My hands fall to my sides. After I catch my breath, I shift off him and undo his restraints, one at a time.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. With his chest against my back, he presses his lips to my neck.

"Fuck, that was amazing." He sucks on my skin. "You're amazing."

I nod and nestle into his chest. My eyelids press together. That was amazing, but it was exhausting too.

I take Tom's hand and slide it between my legs.

This time, he doesn’t need any instructions to get me off.

––––––––

T
om

My wife is true to her word. Except for dinner with Pete and Jess, and Mom, we spend the next twenty-four hours alone together.

Of course, dinner involves Pete and Jess announcing that they're getting married on Christmas Day. It's only half a week away, but they already have almost everything planned. They want me and Jess's sister standing with them at the altar, but beyond that, they don't need help.

Fucker makes a point of asking me to
not
help.

Everybody still thinks I'm bossy and over-involved.

Hard to care at the moment.

Hard to care about much beyond seeing my mother tomorrow.

Usually, I know exactly what I want. Usually, I know exactly what I can manage.

But with this...

I've got no fucking clue.

––––––––

T
om

Dammit, I'm sweating bullets here. I don't ever sweat like this. Not after a three mile run. Not after an hour of lifting. Not even when I try and fail to beat Willow at a race across the pool.

Not that I notice much sweat in the water. When I carry her to the nearest empty room afterward, I sweat like hell.

But not like this.

I wipe my palms on my jeans. We're already here. It's the middle of the afternoon. Not a breakfast or a lunch meeting, but a tea. That was Willow's idea.

Nobody would accuse her of being anything other than a genius.

God dammit, I don't back out of shit. I don't. But I can't do this.

I stare at the door of the tea shop. I tell my hand to make contact, to push or pull it open or whatever it is the sign on the door says.

But I can't.

Willow is next to me. She's looking at me with those expressive hazel eyes. I can't bring myself to look back to see if she's disappointed.

Already had enough of one woman's disappointment.

I shouldn't be nervous. However good Liberty cleaned up, she's not gonna have as much money as I do. Or as much fame. Or as cool a job. I made something of my life without her help. It shouldn't matter what she thinks of me.

But it fucking does.

It doesn't fucking matter that I'm a millionaire rock star. Doesn't fucking matter that I play the drums as good as anybody ever has.

Sure as fuck doesn't matter that I have several million Instagram followers.

Fame doesn’t matter to me on a normal day. Only makes me feel like my career is more a bullshit popularity contest.

Like I'm nothing but a celebrity.

Forty-year-old women aren't impressed by rock drummers.

Fuck. I shouldn't care if I impress her.

But I do. I already feel like that kid who was never good enough. Already feel like a miserable shit.

I can already hear her screaming that I'm getting in her way.

Can already feel her asshole boyfriend's fist.

Dammit, I can't breathe.

I take another step backward. My heel hits the curb. I stumble, but I stay upright.

Willow is watching me. I can feel it. But I still can't look at her.

"We can go." Her voice is calm, but it's uncertain. "If that's what you want."

Her hand curls around my arm. She rubs my bicep with her thumb. Even through my hoodie and t-shirt, I can feel the heat of her skin.

The day locked in the hotel room was a fucking great idea. This isn't.

She rubs my arm over my hoodie. With her other hand, she reaches up to brush the hair from my eyes.

She's looking at me. I know she is, but I still can't look at her. I have to stare at this damn tea shop.

"Hey." She moves closer. "Talk to me, sweetie. What are you thinking?"

I shake my head.

It's not like me to be tongue-tied. Usually, my thoughts make it from my lips without spending nearly enough time in my brain. I get myself in trouble that way.

But this...

I don't fucking have a clue.

She runs her fingertips over my cheek and chin. "Tom. Talk to me."

"I can't." Even that is hard to get out.

"You can't do this or you can't talk?"

"Talk."

"How about if I ask yes or no questions and you can nod or shake your head?"

Sounds reasonable. I nod.

She laughs. "You're doing it already." She presses her palm against my cheek, presses her cheek against my chest. "Do you want to call this off?"

I shake my head.

"Okay. Good. Do you want to stay here?"

Fuck, guess I do. I nod.

"Liberty is inside, in the back room."

My heart nearly stops.

Willow drags her fingers to my neck. There's all this affection in her touch. I soak in as much of that as I can.

"Do you want to go back to our hotel room and get naked?" she asks.

I nod.

Her voice lifts. "Right now?"

No. This is too heavy. I shake my head.

"Do you want to go inside the shop?"

No. But I don't want to leave without doing this. Don't want to spend the rest of this trip wondering if I made the wrong call. Don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.

I'm not a
what could have been
kind of guy.

I nod.

"You'll probably want to talk to her, but I won't stop you from sitting and staring." Willow's hand squeezes mine. "You look cute staring."

"You shouldn't make fun of your husband in his time of need."

She traces my wedding band with her thumb. "I guess I shouldn't." She looks up at me. "Are you ready?"

This time, I manage to look into her hazel eyes. She's worried, yeah, but she's not disappointed.

If anything, she looks proud.

Not many people have ever been proud of me. I know Ophelia is, but she's not the type to remind me constantly. She's more tough love.

"Yeah, I'm ready." I squeeze her back.

"You don't have to."

"I know. I want to." Sort of.

Willow nods. She keeps her hand glued to mine as she pulls the door open and leads me into the cafe. We go all the way to the back room.

It looks smaller than it did before. I
know
the tables are spread out, that there's plenty of room, but it still feels like the walls are closing in.

Liberty is sitting at a round table, her attention glued to her cellphone. She barely resembles the woman I knew when I was ten. Her eyes aren't fuzzy the way they were twenty-four seven.

They're clear.

They're nearly the same as mine. Hers are more blue. Mine are more green. Her hair is darker, grayer, but the nose, the chin—I can see myself in her face.

There's no doubt this woman is my mother. My biological mother, at least.

Willow squeezes my hand. She pulls the chair for me and motions for me to sit.

I do. My fingers tap the table. I can't help the gesture. I don't want to.

"Thank you for coming, Tom." Liberty's voice is soft, the one she used before the drugs and the bullshit. "It's great to see you."

I stare back at her. Words aren't fucking happening. I can barely nod.

"Willow tells me you go by Tom now. Is that right?" she asks.

"Yeah." Only ten year olds go by
Tommy
.

"Willow has been great." Liberty looks at my wife. "You're very lucky to have her."

At least we can agree on that. "Yeah."

"I don't know where to start." Liberty's eyes go to the table then they're on mine. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Nothing polite. Hell, nothing that will fly in a nice joint like this. I have nothing to say to Liberty. I'm still not sure why I'm here. I guess it's because I trust Willow.

She thinks it's a good idea.

But I'm still not seeing the value.

My fingers tap the table. "I'm not here because I want something. I'm here because my wife convinced me it was a good idea, and I trust her more than I trust anybody else."

Liberty nods.

"You fucking manipulate her again, and I'll ruin you." My hand curls into a fist. I unclench and stretch. Then my fingers are tapping the top of my thigh.

Liberty half-smiles. "You were always protective."

If she says so.

Willow squeezes my other hand. She looks from Liberty to me. "You can say what you're thinking, sweetie. Even if it's ugly."

"I'm thinking that it's real nice you cleaned up and got your life together, but that hasn't got shit to do with me. You never gave a fuck about me, so why do you want to see me now?" Dammit, I don't like being vulnerable around somebody I can't trust. My heart is in my throat. I can barely breathe.

This fucking sucks.

Liberty doesn't recoil. I need to say something that hurts more, so she's the one who runs away.

"I deserve that," she says.

What?

Her voice is heavy with regret. "I don't expect forgiveness. Honestly, I just wanted to see you and know you were okay. I didn't even know if you were still alive."

"Except for this meeting, I'm fucking peachy. That all?"

Willow squeezes my hand. Her hazel eyes are filled with concern. They're so full, they look like they're gonna drop off her face.

Don't give a fuck what my mother thinks of me. But this is hurting Willow. That's not okay.

This woman has already done enough to fuck up my life. Now she's hurting Willow.

I'm not going to do anything that will make Willow hurt worse.

"I want you to understand what happened," Liberty says. "That it wasn't your fault or anything you did wrong."

My fingers curl into a fist.

"Is that okay?" she asks.

A deep breath does nothing to calm my temper. I'm not this guy. I don't get pissed at the drop of a hat. Don't lose it.