The Woman by the Lake by Kristen Ashley

Author:Kristen Ashley [Ashley, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I came, and per usual, I did it hard, digging my heels in Riggs’s back, arching my spine, fisting my hand in his hair.

He lapped at me through the aftermath of my orgasm, then he gently pulled my legs from his shoulders before he kissed the skin above my pubic hair, then my belly, my midriff, between my breasts, the base of my throat, finally, Riggs, and his stubble, marked my neck, something he had a fondness for doing.

I’d woken up with mild beard burn every day for three days, and it wasn’t just around my mouth.

I also wasn’t complaining.

He rolled us so he was on his back, I was tucked to his side, and since he’d had his earlier (and I’d also had my first, Riggs was just a man driven to overachieve—again, not complaining), he pulled the covers over us.

I settled in.

“Think that went good,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I replied drowsily. “You just ate more pussy leaving a woman satisfied. Fuck you, Bubbles.”

His body moved as his chuckle sounded, his arm tightened around me, and he said, “I mean telling Mom and Ledge about you and me.”

Oh.

“It did, after you shouted at your mother. Then you jumped the gun and told Ledger about us when you two were up here washing your hands.”

“I changed my mind and decided it should be him and me alone when I told him,” he began. “It was a good time to do it. We could get into it and give you more time to finish talking…and finish dinner. You hadn’t even whipped the potatoes.”

God, it was good he was so talented with giving head (among other things), because he wasn’t just a man, he was a guy.

“That wasn’t the part that went wonky,” I remarked.

“You and I have talked a lot, honey, and I haven’t made you cry,” he pointed out. “She can be harsh.”

“It’s called direct.”

“When she makes you cry, it’s harsh,” he stated, and his words were steely.

I jostled him with my arm. “She was actually being gentle. It was just that she explained, succinctly, why my mother lied to me about my dad having died in a plane accident when I was a baby. It’s been something that’s been screwing with me, now I get it, so you can let it go.”

“Right,” he grunted.

“Yeah. Right,” I confirmed.

The steel came back. “Moving on.”

So, Andrew Doc Riggs didn’t like to be wrong.

Noted.

I let him have it. When he yelled at his mom, he was being protective of me, which I had no problem with, and his mom not only held no ill-will, she liked that he was, so it was all good.

“That’s how your mom explained it to you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Honey,” he whispered gently.

I’d already faced as much of that as I could in one night, so I didn’t say anything.

Riggs read I was done on that subject, thankfully.

“Ledger seemed good,” he noted.

If him crowing victoriously, “I knew it!” when he told his gramme what she already knew (though Riggs didn’t know she did at that time, I hadn’t had a chance to tell him) was an indication, yes, he did.

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