“What do you want?”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Serena parted another section. “You know the answer, Miles. You don’t need to ask me. What does your gut say?”
Leave.
The silence stretched, and she finished my hair quickly.
She completed the last braid and let her fingers rest against my scalp.
“There,” she murmured. “All done.”
I didn’t want to move—didn’t want to lose that weight, that warmth.
But eventually, I sat up slow, rolling my shoulders as I stretched. I ate a bit of my food. She gathered the comb and product, but instead of walking away, she placed them aside and slid onto the couch next to me.
I turned to look at her.
And damn.
She was watching the screen, pretending she didn’t feel my eyes on her—but I saw the soft curve of her lip, the way she sat with one leg tucked under the other, her thigh brushing mine.
I was tired, sore, full—and still, I wanted her.
Bad.
She glanced over, and her brow lifted just slightly.
I didn’t hide it. I let her see exactly what I was thinking.
Then she surprised me.
Without a word, Serena stood, and slowly sank down onto the rug between my legs. The move was fluid, deliberate, andwhen she looked up at me, I saw the heat in her eyes…but also something else—curiosity, maybe even nerves.
My breath hitched.
“Serena,” I said low, a warning and a prayer.
She placed her palms gently on my thighs, her thumbs moving in slow, absent circles over the fabric of my sweatpants.
“I wanted to try something,” she said softly, her gaze flicking up to meet mine. “Just to see if I could still do it.”
I stared at her, heart pounding, completely still—like if I moved too fast, the moment might disappear.
Her fingers found the waistband of my sweats, and she tugged—slow, unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. My body lifted for her on instinct. I couldn’t look away.
She dragged the fabric down my hips, past my thighs, until I was bare beneath her gaze. My chest rose as I exhaled, tension tightening across my shoulders.
When she wrapped her hand around my dick, I hissed between my teeth. I was already leaking, and she didn’t waste a drop of it—slapping the head on her tongue, her eyes fluttering closed like she’d missed the taste of me.
“Baby—damn,” I groaned, my stomach caving in when I hit the back of her throat.
But what undid me wasn’t just her mouth. It was the feeling underneath it.
Her hands on my thighs, grounding me. Her rhythm—slow, savoring—like I wasn’t a man to just take, but something to be remembered. She knew me. Knew how I liked it, knew where I tensed, what made me crumble.
“Sunny… Shit, take your time with it, Ma. It ain’t goin’ nowhere.” My voice was a rasp, my hips pumping steadily. My breath stuttered as my head dropped back against the couch, vision blurring for a second.
