Page 2 of Yearn

I licked my lips. “Teyonah. . .put your hands at your sides.”

Shivering, she obliged and flattened her palms against the table.

“So perfect.” I had to stifle my groan. “Look at me while I touch what you hide.”

Her gaze locked on mine. She wasn’t used to anyone talking to her this way, and with our huge difference in age, she probably expected nervousness and hesitation from me.

I didn’t have any.

Unlike her fucking husband, I knew what I wanted and would not back down.

She had a life already—school forms on the counter, a mortgage, a calendar crowded with pick-ups and dentist reminders.

I had medical school lecture slides, a secret trust fund, her basement apartment that I was renting, and her two sons that I tutored and babysat when she needed it.

She had a body that had made people.

I had a body that was built to make her moan.

She had a reputation of being a hard working legal assistant and stand-up mother that sacrificed her life for her kids, even to the point of dealing with her douchebag husband.

If the PTA found out I was spread between their precious volunteer’s thighs, they’d choke on their bake-sale brownies. They would whisper at Sunday service, eyes cutting sharp across the pews. They would side-eye her at the grocery store, clutching their carts like morality shields. They’d talk about her in hushed voices, but never to her face. And every rumor would make me harder and want to slam into her pussy deeper.

Fuck those nosy women, and fuck her cheating husband too.

He thought he held power over her because he still paid a lot of the bills. But the trust fund in my account could buy this house three times over, rip his name off the deed, and engrave hers in gold. Money wasn’t the prize, she was. And I would spend every cent to make sure she knew it.

He thought he owned this house, this table, this woman—but the only thing he really owned was a body I hadn’t buried yet. Scott had returned to win her back, but the very thought of Scott ever touching her again made my jaw ache. I wanted to erase his past fingerprints from her skin with my tongue and teeth.

It’s time to stop being nice.

I lifted my head and studied her. “You keep going back and forth on what you want.”

“Dominic—”

“Stop pretending you don’t dream about this cock stretching you open.”

She bit her bottom lip.

“You can fight it, lie to yourself, but your pussy wants to be mine.”

She blinked.

“I don’t want to hear anymore fucking excuses. We’ll figure out everything else later or. . .never.” I seared her with my gaze. “But for right now. . .just say yes to me touching you the way I’ve yearned. Please. . .say it. . .”

Time stopped.

The refrigerator hummed.

The table creaked.

My heart boomed in my ears.

Everything hinged on her response.

If she denied me, I would unravel.

If she gave in, I would explode.