Silas groans deeply, growling out his pleasure, his hand slipping into my hair.
I swirl my tongue around him, feeling him pulse and throb in my mouth.
“Baby, I’m going to come.”
But I only move my lips faster up and down his cock, my tongue working the underside as I stroke the part of him that doesn’t fit inside. He groans again, his ab muscles rippling as I feel him grow even harder inside my mouth.
And suddenly he’s coming.
I swallow him as he fills my mouth, feeling him shudder against my lips as his growling moans send shivers though me.
I give him a final lick, giggling as he shudders, before I sit up and grin at him.
“Horrible idea,” he murmurs, grinning back at me.
“Oh, the worst we ever had.” I snuggle back into him, letting my head dip onto his shoulder as he strokes my hair.
We stay like that for a minute, basking in it, feeling our hearts thud and just being in that moment.
Finally, I glance up at him. “At some point, I should probably get back home, you know.”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through me.
“At some point,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing my lips.
“But not right now, right?”
“No, not right now,” I say softly.
His hand finds its way to mine. “I say we stay here a little longer.”
“Now that’s the best idea yet.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ivy
“We’re here Mama!”
Carter squirms in his mother’s arms as she pulls him from the car seat. I smooth my skirt down as I step from her car into the sunny morning air a block away from Marsden Park. Well, soon to be the Jacob Hammond park.
It’s a weird thought, realizing that my family is such a part of this town that our name is going to literally be on the map after today. That’s all my parents, though. My mother, the music teacher at Harborview Elementary for thirty years. And of course my dad, the magnanimous, big hearted, strong-willed Congregationalist minister. Founder of two different soup kitchens, one of the biggest fundraising drivers for the North Boston home for boys, and general pillar of the community.
It was crazy to hear about the park renaming, but not anything that surprising considering my dad’s place in this town. Well, that and considering that literally no one - including the Shelter Harbor historical society - can remember who the heck Marsden was, or why the park is named after him.
Who better than Jacob Hammond?
Mom and Dad and Sierra get out of their car parked right in front of us just as Rowan’s distinctively loud Indian motorcycle goes roaring past us.
It’s an important day, and rightfully so. But my mind is honestly everywhere but on the fact that my family’s name is about to be emblazoned across the park where I learned to ride a bike, or where Sierra broke an arm on the monkey bars.
It’s on the man whose touch I can still feel from the night before.
Whose lips I can still taste.
I force a smile to my face though as my mom puts her arm around me, all of us making our way to the gazebo in the middle of the park where the white folding chairs and podium is laid out for the dedication ceremony.
“I’m just glad I’ve got so many of my babies at home for once!” she gushes, giving me a squeeze.
Well, all of us except for Kyle, who’s got a work thing and gets a pass. But even if “work” wasn’t “the FBI”, Kyle would always get a pass being the golden boy in our dad’s eyes.
After all, he’s got two sons, and one of them didn’t manage to almost get himself killed escaping an armored truck robbery with Silas Hart.
But that’s in the past, and it should stay there.
Mayor Thompson finishes her speech, and the crowd of people assembled in the park cheer as my dad takes the small stage. There’s a plaque given, and more words about everything our he’s done and how the Hammond name is a “pillar of the community.”
But it’s not thirty seconds into Dad’s acceptance speech when I look up into the crowd, and my heart jumps.
Silas stands at the back of the crowd, watching it all. He’s cleaned up from the t-shirt and jeans look I’ve seen him in so far back in town, wearing a charcoal grey suit this time, the jacket open to a well-fitted shirt, and a tie.
Silas Hart has never worn a tie in his entire damn life. Hell, he didn’t even wear one to prom.
He nods and claps when my dad accepts the award, and again when he ceremoniously cuts away the sheet covering the new sign for the park that’ll bear our name.