His Plaything(45)

Sparks of pleasure built hotter and hotter, faster and faster, lighting up my whole body. “M-mine … either,” I managed to reply before I couldn't speak anymore. He shifted his grip on one hip to rub my clit with his thumb—and that was all it took. I almost screamed, legs locking around his back and toes curling in my high heels as I quaked with overwhelming pleasure.

Eyes fluttering shut, I slumped back onto the desk, almost too boneless to catch myself with my elbows. It took me a second to notice that Nixon had knelt down. “W-what are you doing?” I gasped, fighting to sit up and look at him. “We have to get back out there!”

His head disappeared under my skirt as he propped my ankles up onto his shoulders. “You need to get cleaned up first … wouldn't want you dripping my cum all over those panties in front of our folks.”

Before I could say another word, I felt him wipe a tissue across my sensitive flesh, apparently cleaning up his mess. Then his talented mouth went to work and I lost the power of speech again. My clit was still oversensitive from my last orgasm and I could feel every rasp and writhe of his slick tongue. The tiniest movement set my raw nerves quivering like plucked harp strings. It wasn't long until I stuffed my knuckles in my mouth, biting hard to stifle my cries.

Nixon stood and wiped his face on his sleeve, grinning at my breathless, disheveled state. “Need a hand?”

“Shut up.” I gave him a halfhearted glare, but I was still too blissed-out to muster any real annoyance. “You don't need me to tell you how good you are.”

“But I always love hearing it.” He offered an elbow to lean on while I stepped back into my panties.

I quickly retouched my makeup—not too bad, though my lip gloss had gotten smeared straight to hell—and gathered up my cap and gown. Then I led Nixon back to the auditorium, where the reception had just started. Oops … I guess we were gone longer than I thought.

Cynthia and Russ were talking to one of my professors by the stage. At the refreshment table along the near wall, Emma and Ford were examining the selection of cheap punch and grocery-store cookies. Nixon walked up behind his brother and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Ford turned, blinking, then laughed. “You sneaky son-of-a-bitch! You could've at least told your own brother you were coming.”

“Like you can keep a secret.” Nixon smirked. “Without marrying her, I mean.”

Ford gave Emma a meaningful glance. “In case I didn't tell you before, you're allowed to call him a motherfucker now. He'll be your brother-in-law soon—you have that privilege.”

Keeping an amazingly straight face, Emma nodded at them both. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Nixon snorted, not unkindly, and turned back to Ford. “So how's the ranch these days?”

As they started catching up on family-business news, Emma winked at me behind their backs. The message was clear: Got laid, huh? I tried not to let my embarrassment show. Instead, I pointed at my neck and raised my eyebrows: I'm not the only one. Emma looked startled and adjusted her thin silk scarf to cover the purple bite mark there. Then our awkwardness collapsed into giggles, causing Ford to give us a weird look.

Emma stepped close to envelop me in a warm, perfumed hug. “Mom and I are dying for some good seafood, so Russ wants to take us all to Truluck's for dinner,” she whispered into my mussed hair. “But as soon as the over-fifty crowd goes to bed … you owe me some juicy details. Trade you a drink?”

“As if I wouldn't tell you everything anyway.” I couldn't keep the stupid grin off my face. For sheer juiciness, my story definitely wouldn't disappoint.

“We can get rid of the boys and go to the hotel bar.” Emma finally let go of me, her smile full of affection. “It's so nice to see you again.”

Finally noticing our little party at the refreshment table, Cynthia waved frantically and started dragging Russ toward us. I grabbed Nixon's hand to get his attention and grinned at my stepparents, eager to welcome everyone back into my life. We were definitely an unconventional family—but all the better for it, I thought.

Settling in to catch up on everything I’d missed over the last few months, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. I had my diploma in hand and my man back safe and sound. Nothing could get me down today—not even the very confused expression on my dad’s face as he walked toward us. Clearly, he hadn’t missed Nixon’s very public display of affection.

Well, Dad, I thought. You’re the one I should be thanking for not being able to cover my room and board. Right after I thanked Russ and Cynthia for coming up with a fabulous solution.