“Do you want me to keep going?” she asked.
“That’s good. You’re doing so much better, baby. I’m so proud of you.” And I was. She was reading on a fourth-grade level already. Dr. Munroe said it was because she had tried hard to learn in school, and she had learned. She just hadn’t been shown how to deal with her disability. Now that she was working with it, she was picking up quickly and utilizing things she’d already been taught.
“My writing isn’t the best, but I wrote a letter today. It wasn’t a real one. I was supposed to write a fake one to someone thanking them for a gift. I only messed up two words. Dr. Munroe was pleased.” The pride in her voice made my chest tighten. I loved knowing that she was proud of her accomplishments. She should be.
“I’m waiting for you to write me a letter,” I told her. I could keep it tucked in my pocket all day and pull it out when I needed my Reese fix.
She laughed softly. “Not ready for that yet. Let me get better at it. I don’t want Dr. Munroe correcting a letter I wrote to you. So it will have to come to you unedited.”
Nothing she gave me could be less than perfect. Because it would be her. What she wrote. If she mixed up every letter and every word, then that was the way they were fucking meant to be. Because she would have written them for me.
“Don’t care how many mistakes are in it, Reese. It would be from you. That’s all that matters,” I told her.
She made a soft little sigh. “You say the sweetest things.”
I could say even sweeter things if she’d let me. I was tempted to try. Swear to God, I could still smell her on my hand. I’d put those fingers up to my nose and inhaled all damn day.
“What are you wearing, Reese?” I asked.
“Your T-shirt, just like I’m supposed to,” she replied. I could hear the amusement in her voice.
“Go lie down on your bed for me.” I was testing her. I’d stop if she balked even once.
“OK,” she breathed. “I’m on my bed.”
Fuck. Yes. She was playing along.
“You lying down?” I wanted her on her back with her legs open for me.
“Yes.” Her response was quick and anxious-sounding. She knew what I was wanting.
“Will you let those pretty legs fall open for me, baby?” I waited, not knowing if she’d go this far.
After only a few seconds, she replied. “Yes.”
I pulled my hardening cock out of my briefs and wrapped my hand around it. The image of Reese lying back on her bed in my shirt with her legs open for me had me ready to get back on the damn plane.
“You know what I want you to do, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Will you? Can I hear you pleasure yourself?”
She was breathing heavily. “Will you?”
“Will I what, baby?”
“Will you do it, too?”
Grinning, I stroked my length. “Already doing it. The fact that you’re on your bed with those legs open wearing my shirt has me so damn turned-on I’m aching.”
“Oh,” she said, then let out a soft moan.
Fuck . . . me . . . she was doing it. “Where’re your fingers?”
“On my . . . down there,” she replied.
Oh, yeah. I closed my eyes and let her voice and the image of what she was doing take over my thoughts. “Are you wet for me?”
“Yeaaah,” she said, with a hitch in her breathing.
“Play with it easy for me. Make my sweet pussy feel good. I’m not there to take care of it. I need you to, and let me hear you. I wanna hear those sounds you make.”
“Ahhh!” she cried out. She loved my words.
“Rub that hard, swollen clit. I want to kiss it. So bad . . . Run my tongue along the tender spots and then suck that hot button into my mouth until you pull my hair and scream my name.”
“Ohhhh, God,” she moaned.
“That’s it. Think about my head between those legs. All open for me. I can lick and lap up all that sweetness. Just me. Right there with you. Just us, baby. Your hands fisted in my hair and my hands . . . my hands on your creamy smooth thighs, holding you open. Breathing you in.”
“Mase! Oh . . . aaaaah!”
Her release gave me my own. I listened as she rode it out and wished to God I was there to see it.
Reese
Over the next week, I didn’t just read to Mase at night. We ended our evenings doing other things . . .
Smiling at my secret, I spent extra time brushing my hair. I had cleaned Harlow’s house twice and met with Blaire Finlay. She was going to need someone three days a week. I had to talk to Harlow about working in her two days and Blaire’s three days to meet everyone’s needs. Blaire’s current house-cleaner hadn’t retired yet, so there was time to figure it out. She had two more weeks.
Jimmy had found out earlier in the week that today was my birthday. He’d decided he was taking me out. I hadn’t done anything more than celebrate all alone most of my life. I remembered having a cake once when I was seven. My mother had made one and invited the neighborhood children over. I’d thought she had done it for me, and for a little while, I had felt so special.
Then, later that day, I had found her in the bathroom on her knees in front of one of the dads at the party. He had been saying things I didn’t want to remember while she gripped his thighs and gave him a blow job. That man lived across the street with his wife and two kids.
I had realized that not only was something wrong with what my mother was doing, but she had thrown this party to get close to that man. Not to me. It was my first and last birthday cake.
Tonight I would make a new memory. Jimmy wanted us to go dancing and eat cake. So we were going to do just that. I would celebrate turning twenty-three with someone who cared about me.
Stepping back and looking into the mirror, I felt like I was pretty. The dress I had on was a soft orange and reminded me of a sunset. It was strapless and belted at my waist with a brown woven belt that fell to mid-thigh. I had slipped on the cowboy boots I’d bought to please Mase. He hadn’t seen them yet, but I used some of my savings to buy them. They were on sale for half-price, so I had only spent a little too much on them instead of a lot.
The knock on the door was followed by an “Open up, birthday girl!”
I smiled and went to let Jimmy inside.
He let out a low whistle and twirled his finger in the air for me to spin around. “I’m gonna have to act straight tonight to keep the men off you. Damn, woman, you clean up fine.”