“Need your mouth, babe.”

“Tate –”

His arms gave me a squeeze and he whispered, “Need you, Laurie.”

He needed me.

Therefore, I rolled into him then rolled on top of him and then I gave him what he needed. Before he came he pulled me up and to his side, yanked off my pajama bottoms and underwear and positioned me straddling him.

“Fuck me, baby, I want my c**k inside you,” he growled.

I wrapped my hand around him and slid him inside.

“Fuck me,” he groaned and I moved.

His thumb went to my cl*t and it circled so I moved faster.

“That’s it, Christ, that’s it, baby,” Tate encouraged.

“Hurry, Captain, faster,” I whispered.

“Come here.”

I bent to him, still riding him and his fingers pulled down my camisole, his hand cupped my breast, he fed my nipple between his lips and pulled hard.

That felt so unbelievably good, my h*ps bucked.

Tate kept sucking and his thumb kept circling then his tongue rolled my nipple and his hand left my breast, slid into my hair and pulled my mouth to his.

“You close?” he grunted.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Harder baby.”

I f**ked him harder, felt it coming and breathed, “Yes.”

“There you go.”

My hand circled his wrist as it hit me and his thumb became too much.

“Tate.”

“Fuck me harder.”

“Oh God, baby,” I moaned, my back and neck arching and I came hard and rode him harder as his thumb kept at me.

“Keep ridin’ me, Ace.”

“Tate –” I breathed, pushing at his hand, still coming, God it felt amazing, overwhelming, it felt like I would shatter but his thumb circled faster.

“You’re gonna come again,” he ordered.

“No,” I whispered.

His h*ps started bucking to meet my strokes and his hand in my hair went to my hip to yank me down.

“Tate, God, baby,” I whimpered as the second wave hit.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, his h*ps surging up, his thumb left my cl*t and both his hands slammed me down so he was buried inside me and, through my second orgasm, I listened to his grunting moan.

I collapsed on top of him, my face in his neck and I listened to his breathing even as I struggled to even my own.

Then he reached out and, still connected, he yanked the covers over us.

I started to move off him but his arms wrapped around me.

“Want you to fall asleep on my cock,” he growled in my ear.

“Tate, I’m too heavy –”

“Don’t move.” He was still growling.

“Baby –”

His arms tensed. “Want you close as you can be.”

I closed my eyes tight.

Then I whispered, “Anything you want, Captain.”

“That’s right, baby.”

I settled into him, shifting my hips, causing a low noise to come from his throat.

“I love you, Tate,” I said softly into his ear.

“I know, baby,” he said back. “Sleep.”

“Okay.”

And if you’d have asked me, after all that happened that day, and what could assault my mind in the night, if I could fall asleep on top of Tate with his c**k still hard inside me, I would have said no, definitely not.

But I did.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After Neeta

“Ace!” I heard Tate bellow and my eyes went from the mirror, through Buster sitting on the vanity watching me arrange my hair in a bun at the nape, to Jonas, who was sitting on the lowered toilet lid wearing his black suit, the collar of his white shirt open, his little kid’s suit tie unknotted and hanging loose.

For the last five days, Jonas had stuck to me like glue.

I found this surprising. I didn’t know what he’d do but I sticking to me like glue wasn’t one of my top ten guesses.

But I wasn’t complaining.

“Ace!” Tate bellowed again and I whispered to Jonas, “Oh dear.”

Tate, like his son, had also stuck to me like glue. As the days passed, I realized both Jackson boys were behaving, as usual, just the same. One of their women had been brought low, no matter how they felt about her, Neeta was still one of their women, and they weren’t taking any chances.

Jonas gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, I returned it but hoping mine reached my eyes and I hurried out of the bathroom, hearing Buster drop down to follow me with Jonas. I grabbed my black pumps from the bed and stopped twice in the hall to lift up a foot in turn and shove them on. We all arrived in the dining area in time to see Tate, wearing charcoal gray suit pants and a midnight blue shirt open at the collar, slide the glass door open and walk through.

I looked down at Jonas and we followed Tate, me stopping for Jonas to precede me. I pushed Buster back with my foot and slid the door closed. I turned toward the deck steps just in time to see my father, my mother, my sister and Mack climbing the steps. Dad was going slowly but he looked fit, if much thinner, and he had a tan. All of them were wearing funeral black.

I stared at them a second, in shock. They knew, of course, I’d called them the day after we found out about Neeta. They’d called every day since and they knew the funeral was today.

I just didn’t know they were planning on coming.

I stopped staring and started running. I slowed my progress so when my arms closed around my Dad, I didn’t hurt him.

“Daddy,” I whispered.

“Honey,” he whispered back as his arms went around me strong and tight.

I was holding onto my Dad, feeling his healing arms around me but I heard Mom say, “Tate, hon, give Jeannie some sugar.”

I smiled over Dad’s shoulder at Carrie who smiled back. If Mom was talking in third person and asking for sugar, she was back.

Dad kissed my cheek and let me go in time for Mack to give me a bear hug then, while I was hugging Carrie, I heard Dad say, “You must be Tatum.”

“Tate,” Tate replied and I pulled away from Carrie but kept an arm around her to watch Dad shake Tate’s hand.

When they released hands, Dad looked at Jonas but asked Tate, “This your boy?”

“Of course it’s his boy, he’s the spittin’ image,” Mom declared and bustled up to Jonas. “Hi Jonas, I’m Gramma,” she announced then demanded, “Give me some sugar.”

Jonas stared up at her, clearly uncertain what to do with a self-appointed Gramma since, between Tate and Neeta, he’d never had one.