Page 29 of Yearn

“Be serious!” I laughed.

“Iamserious!” Ro’s voice was scandalized. “Girl, your ex is out here stressing you to death, trying to play you before you both get in court. Meanwhile, the universe drops a man in your lap who’s willing to spend money on a cleaning staff and chef, and you want to act like this ain’t fate?”

Cadence hummed, slow and skeptical. “Fate doesn’t pay alimony. Fate doesn’t put the kids to bed on time. Fate doesn’t cover bills when Tey loses focus at work. She doesn’t have time to play sex games with a kid.”

Sighing, I sat down on the edge of my bed.

“Listen,” Ro pressed. “You’ve been through hell, Tey. Scott broke you down, made you doubt yourself, sucked the life out of your joy. And yet, tonight, for the first time in a year, you laughed on the phone with me like a damned teenager sneaking out of the house. That’s not nothing. That’s the universe saying, ‘Wake the fuck up.’ And who woke you up? Dominic. With his dick. Amen.”

I burst out laughing.

Cadence groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m honest!” Ro fired back. “Look, all I’m saying is—life is short. You think we get to be young and juicy forever? You better ride that boy’s cock while your knees still work.”

“Ro!” I screamed, laughing until tears pricked my eyes.

“Girl, stop being shy,” Ro cackled. “Go down there and be hismommy. That’s what he wants.”

“Oh my God.” Cadence let out a scandalized laugh. “Ro! You’re out of control.”

Yet, one word clung to me like heat.

Mommy.

I shoved it away, but for a second, my nipples tightened like the title had been whispered against them.

For a split second, my mind betrayed me—Dominic sprawled naked across my bed, broad shoulders against my sheets, his muscles shifting under moonlight. His lips closed hot around my nipple, sucking like he’d been starved for my milk, tongue swirling slow before dragging rough enough to make me whimper.

My hand wrapped around his big cock, tight and slick, stroking him in long, greedy pulls. God, he was so heavy in my grip—thick veins pulsing under my palm, the swollen head jerking against my wrist every time I dragged down.

And I could feel him, moaning against my chest, the sound raw and needy, vibrating straight through my ribcage.

Each imagined groan made my nipples harder, my body tighter, as if my flesh wanted to feed him forever.

And I could feel his cock kick in my hand, desperate, dripping, begging me for release.

The image hit too sharp, too real—his breath hot, his mouth tugging my nipple, his cock swelling bigger as if it needed me.

Heat shot low and fast.

Damn.

I’d been fucking longer than he’d even been alive. A decade of orgasms. There were so many things I could show him—things he probably didn’t even know his cock could take.

Twenty-five.

That’s all he was.

This pussy had years on him—years of learning what made a man groan, years of watching them break apart when I really took control.

Out in the backyard, Dominic thought he was stroking himself for relief, but I could teach him relief so filthy he would never look at his hand the same way again. I knew tricks that would have him crying, begging, undone.

Girl. . .

My thighs pressed together, trying to catch the throb building low, but it only made me hotter.

No.