Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  “Feel, Cora,” I say when I remove my mouth from hers, brace my hands at the sides of her head, and sink all the way inside. I pull out, push back in, her body slick, her pussy wet, her muscles clenching with her upward-thrusting hips.

  “Goddamn, I’ve never felt anything this incredible in my life. You’re like silk. Perfection.”

  Then I’m moving greedily inside her. Those long, shapely legs are wrapping around me to hold me close. The sounds of our bodies connecting take over my movements with a primal need to hear them. I extend my strokes, long and deep. Powerful and telling. With my weight covering her, my eyes are shrouded on her faintly clear face. My cock pulses, her pussy tightens, and I devour the loud blissful noises escaping her mouth with mine as she grips me strong and solid, draining and succumbing me into a perfect, exhausted slumber; and for the first time since I lay eyes on this woman, we sleep all night with her coiled tight in my arms.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We need to talk.” I rise, my body refreshed and ready to get this shit over with. I held her in my arms the entire night. Slept the best I have in years, knowing when I woke she would be next to me. It’s the best feeling in the world falling asleep with her in my arms, waking up to her warm body, her beautiful face being the first thing I see. Except, she’s not here.

  “Cora. Where the hell are you?” I call out, glance at the clock, jumping out of bed when I notice it’s almost nine. “Jesus. Shit. Fuck.” I tug on my jeans, pull the t-shirt I brought over with me last night over my head and start to creep out of her room like a damn stalker. This shit stops today. I don’t care if it’s been a day, a week, or years. I’m not sneaking around with her anymore. We need to tell Ethan about us. I have no idea how, but it’s something we can figure out. Nonetheless, it’s happening soon.

  “What are you doing?” She strolls in wearing a pair of black short-as-fuck shorts, a matching tank top that has the word Flawless stretched across her nipple-hard tits and her hair in a braid. A flawless fuck-able fantasy is what she is.

  “I was heading home, but now that I see you in that,”—I point at her outfit—“the only place I’m headed is inside you.” My eyes scan her daringly. Sweat breaks out on my brow, and my cock comes to a complete pissed-off halt as he tries to fight his way through my zipper.

  “Oh. Well, don’t let me stop you from leaving.” She taunts with a ridiculously challenging lift of her brows. Yeah, fuck that shit. She needs to be taught a lesson.

  With a growl that would scare a lion, I pounce on her as she turns to leave. My body is pinning hers to the wall in the hallway, legs bending enough to show her how hard I am when I press into the crack of her ass.

  “I have no problem fucking you right here, Cora. In fact, you run from me again, and I’ll tongue the fuck out of you until you’re begging for it.” The beast has momentarily arrived. I tease, lick the shell of her ear, and groan my want for this woman.

  “I have no problem begging.” She flashes a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

  “Holding you to that,” I promise, biting tenderly on her shoulder

  “Where’s Ethan?” I ask mildly, hips circling her sweet little ass.

  “He stayed with my parents last night.”

  As much as I’d love to see him, her telling me he’s gone is all I need to reach up, grab her braid, and pull her head back, angling her face so she’s given no choice but to stare into my deep, dark eyes.

  “You can start that begging now.” I suck and lick her neck, slide my other hand under her tank, and squeeze a breast. Her tits are perfect. Her nipples are erect, and fuck, I may be the one begging before this fuck fest in the hallway ends. These are the kinds of memories that we should have embedded in our minds from the years we’ve lost. Playful times that turn into actions. Our bodies slick with desire. My rough hands are all over her, capturing her, while I feast on every inch of her. So much to make up for. I’m determined to give these cherished times to her and to me. My single goal in life is to cherish this woman, whether it’s fucking her or making love to her. The end goal is making her fall apart, to give her anything she wants. Me. The world. Love.

  “And Vivian?” I ask. Desperately hoping she’s gone, too. I want to hear her scream loud enough that she scares the seagulls away.

  “Working.” Praise fucking God. Cora pants as I roll her nipple and tug.

  “Do you want me to fuck you here in the hallway, up against this wall?” I fist her braid harder.

  “Yes.”

  “Slip your shorts off, place your hands above your head, and show me that tight ass.”

  She does as she’s told, grinding her ass across my jeans. Fuck, her ass is flawless. That word on her shirt should be tattooed across the back of it. Damn.

  My cock needs out now. I release her hair, unsnap my fly, and lower my zipper, not once stopping my torture on her breast.

  “I’m going to fuck you now. Deep, hard, and raw.” Her legs spread like she wants it, her head tilts back, and I slam my dick into her slick pussy then start pounding her from behind, slipping my other hand around to grope her other breast. I fuck her. It’s wild, rigorous. Feels so right, so good.

  “Oh God, Riddick!” she screams. Her fucking tits are bouncing in my hands. Her head is thrashing around. Yeah, I love watching her lose control.

  “I have never wanted anything so much. Jesus, you make me want to fill your pussy with my cock all goddamn day. Fuck!” I shout, release her breasts, grab her hips, and pound.

  We have so much to discuss. So much devastation and worry that will be at the forefront of her mind until this is resolved. She’ll freak the fuck out when I tell her everything. Even though I know she trusts me to keep her and Ethan safe, it doesn’t stop me from thinking she’ll want to run. To disappear like before.

  “I’m coming!” she yells, hands slipping down the wall, ass shoving me backward. I adjust my footing to stop us from toppling over. My bare ass is slamming into the opposite wall as she bends over in front of me while I continue my assault on her addictive pussy from behind.

  With her spine straight, her head raised, and my cock buried deep inside, she starts to convulse, squeeze those muscles. Cora knows what the hell she’s doing when it comes to draining my dick dry. I know it’s out of this world stupid to wish her birth control failed and I planted another baby inside of her. To see the woman I love pregnant would drop me straight to my knees, taking her with me. One day soon.

  I pound relentlessly, my legs starting to burn. I can’t stop fucking this woman. It’s a never-ending feat that will last me the rest of my life. She’s mine, and I will do what I have to do to make sure she never feels the need to escape me again.

  15

  CORA

  Riddick returns home to shower and change after attacking me in the hallway. A sexual occurrence that now has me achingly sore and in need of that crawling punishment he swore to give me the other day. I’m going to need a few days to recover from the way he ravaged me. I’m not complaining one bit. I’ve never been pleasured with such force, such desire that rippled through my body with every thick, thrusting inch of him. His rough hands were all over my breasts, paying special attention to my nipples, which hurt in a satisfying way. The man can’t get enough, and for a woman who’s gone without the love and attention from the man she loves, I can’t either.

  He said we had to talk before we made plans for the day. An entire day spent doing whatever we want. This is going to be our date. To explore, to be together for the first time in public, alone. It’s silly how a grown woman wants to walk down a busy sidewalk while holding the hand of her man or stopping just to plant a kiss on his cheek. So many times I would see people doing all those loving couple normal things, and jealousy would punch me in the gut every time.

  My relationship with Seth was normal, comfortable. We would hold hands, talk and walk around. It wasn’t the same, not when your subconscious mind wished the man you were with were someone else. I can honestly say that par
t of our relationship didn’t have anything to do with my feelings for Riddick; it had everything to do with feeling like I was with my best friend instead of the man I loved. I care about Seth so much. He will always be a part of my life, a part of Ethan’s, too. Riddick and I haven’t talked much about him. I told him the other night I dated a guy who is still in our lives as a friend. He seemed okay with it. I truly hope he meant it, because no matter what, I won’t cut him out of Ethan’s life. I refuse to take away Ethan’s rights to pick and choose his friends, and that is exactly what Seth is. He’s his friend, and he loves him.

  Seth was shocked as well as happy for us when he finally did sit down on the beach yesterday. I told him the entire story from beginning to end. He ended up canceling his entire day, sat on the beach with me for hours while I told him the incredible story about how Riddick lives next door. Seth deserves nothing but the truth, therefore, the only thing I left out were the intimate parts. He even went to dinner with us at my parents’ house, and just as I thought he would, he sat down with Ethan telling him how happy he was for him, for me, and that he wanted to remain in his life.

  And now as I place the last blueberry pancake on a platter, grab the plate of bacon, and sit to wait for Riddick to return, my mind worries with fear. Not over the way Riddick will handle the news of Seth. That’s not my concern at all. He loves our son so much already that he would never take away someone who’s important to him. Especially after we were stripped away from each other without a choice. My fear is Jesse. The look in Riddick’s eyes before he walked out the door told me he has news and this news is going to break me.

  The status between Vivian and Jude is a kick in the soft sand compared to what he’s going to tell me.

  “I smelled those pancakes the minute I hit the top of your steps.” I look up, pausing mid-sip of my coffee. Sweet god. He may be able to smell breakfast, but I can’t; all I smell is him. A smell that has stayed locked away for years.

  Mix the sight of him with his wet hair slicked back, tiny droplets of water dripping down his tanned, shirtless chest with the scent of a freshly showered man, and you have the odor of Riddick Murdock. All man. Powerful. Mine. A dirty book come to life.

  “Coffee or juice?” I clear my throat, telling my brain to yank the hell out of the reins that control my body. To make it shut the hell up and settle for a damn day.

  “Juice. I’ll get it, though. You eat.” He points to my plate. I want to tell him I’m not hungry. That I’m afraid that what he’s going to tell me is going to make me vomit anything I place in my stomach. I need to eat, though, practice what I preach. I take a pancake, place it on my plate, pour a little syrup, and take a bite.

  “This looks great. Thanks,” he says, stacks several pancakes on his own plate, grabs some bacon, and digs right in after dumping half the bottle of syrup over them.

  I work my lip while we eat. Scared, nervous, and anxious to find out what he has to say.

  “Hey. Look at me.” His tone is crisp and sharp.

  “No matter what, I’ve got you, Angel. I swear to fucking God I’ve got all of us. Come here, please,” he states bossily. This man can be sensitive as well as all kinds of badass in the same sentence; it doesn’t matter, because my feet paddle over to him anyway. All I want to do is be with him, by him. Just him.

  “Seth stopped by to see Ethan yesterday. I told him about you.” I deliver the easy part of the weight on my shoulders.

  “That’s great. Ethan speaks highly of him. I look forward to meeting him,” he replies with a mouthful of food. See? Easy. No jealousy. No fighting.

  “You found out something about my brother. Spit it out.” I come clean about my nerves and the fact he’s not as good as keeping his worry under control as he thinks he is. His hands are shaking now that he has me carefully settled on his lap.

  “We found out why he sent you packing all those years ago. The bottom line is money. Your money. He wanted it, and he got it. Half of it anyway.”

  “My money? What are you talking about?” I stutter, his words a cluster of a mess scrambling around inside of my head. He mistreated and abused me. Threatened to kill my child over money. How? Why? I don’t understand. I climb off of his lap with the need to pace the floor, grip my hair, and make some kind of sense of this pumping blood behind my ears. My brain is frazzled, and I don’t get it. Why would my brother do this?

  “Your parents left him the club, and you a hell of a lot of money. They knew you wouldn’t want a damn thing to do with being in some gang. That was their shit, not yours. It was Jesse’s life. He wanted that. Not you. So they figured you would be set if anything were to happen to them. I highly doubt they woke up in the morning thinking this was the day were going to die. By the way you talked about them, how they kept you untouched and mostly out of sight, it was because they knew you weren’t the type of girl who wanted that lifestyle. That money would have allowed you to do whatever you wanted with your life.” Wow. I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry over all of this. I would have given my brother every last dime of that money if I had known about it. All I wanted was out from underneath his thumb. Away from him forever.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” I say questioningly. Uncertainty is fluctuating its way through my veins over what’s yet to come.

  He nods. The look he gives me shoots an injection of pain up my spine. “It would have brought them peace. You were set to inherit the first half when you turned eighteen. As your next of kin, he would accede to it all if you were to die,” he clarifies. God, it hurts that my flesh and blood faked my death, stole my money, and told one of the biggest lies anyone could tell. He’s a fraud, a rat bastard who disgusts me. My entire childhood was stolen away from me because of him. My parents were murdered, killed in cold blood, and all I ever wanted was for him to console me, to tell me everything was going to be all right. That he would step up and be the brother I hoped he would be. Not only did he betray me with his fraudulent bullshit, but he also betrayed our parents. Deceived them in the worst kind of way.

  I have no idea how long I pace back and forth on the cool, tiled floor, my mind racing, my blood boiling with every new step I take. I used to tell myself I would thank him if I saw him again for making me leave, for allowing me to escape his dirty reputation that trailed behind him in the same way an airplane leaves that long white line that persists and spreads for miles. His malicious decision to rob me blind of the money my parents left for me could have easily been handled in the right way. I would have given every penny to him if he had been honest with me, let me live my life with Riddick. If he had just let me be. But no, not him. He had to go and twist the knife in my back until he shattered my spine, left me nothing from my childhood. My brother destroyed me out of jealousy that could have been prevented if he had only loved me. If he had done right by my parents. I hate him more than I ever thought I could hate a person. I want him destroyed; and that goddamn club, too.

  “Wait.” I pause and tilt my head cautiously when a cold blast of air escapes my lungs. I feel the blood drain from my face, my legs wobble, and my teeth chatter. Riddick must sense my distraught, because he stands and brings me into his arms. The strength of his arms and the love I see in his eyes are the only things holding me upright.

  “You said half. When am I supposed to receive the rest?” The minute I ask, a chill clings to the middle of my spine, hitting me with a startled jolt, that injection squirming its way through my veins. I know the answer before he lets it slip out of his mouth. I stand there petrified, looking up at him waiting for him to validate what’s going to tip me over the edge. To make me lose the anger and bitterness I feel and turn it into a fearful fright that I haven’t felt in a long time.

  “On your thirtieth birthday,” he confirms. I crumble. The air in my home swiftly turns cold, freezing to the point it tightens my chest, and I’m all of a sudden certain our son’s life as well as mine are in danger. I’m reliving my nightmare all over again. Fear wraps around me; it
suffocates me to the point that I’m fairly sure I’m going to pass out from the dreaded conversation Riddick and I are about to have.

  “That’s less than two weeks away. What if… oh my God… what if he comes after me, what if he tries to really kill me this time? That’s why you said you would protect us, isn’t it? He’s in prison, so he’s going to send Cutter or someone else, right? I won’t bend for him this time. You’re a cop. I want to press charges. He had to have forged a death certificate to receive that money. I want him to stay behind those bars for the rest of his life, Riddick. I don’t want any of that money. Not a dime of it. What I want is for you to show me the will. I need to see it. There have to be witnesses, others who helped. Cutter. Where is he?” I ramble on, and he lets me. It’d be nice if he told me Cutter was dead, but I know he’s not. Those two destroyed my life for years. Made me unknowingly live a lie. So many of them that my head spins. They’ve committed crimes that should surely lock them up for life. I want the heads of every single person who helped them. There is no way two stupid as hell men planned this all on their own.

  “You need to sit down, clear your head, and listen to me,” he tells me sternly as he slides his hands up to cup my face. The dictation of his words is full of confidence. His facial features soften as he studies my face with so much love makes my heart hurt, my stomach clench, and all my insides pinch as they coil into one big bundle of crushed-up nerves.

  “Please, Cora,” he begs.

  “Fine. I’ll sit. But I can’t calm down. I won’t ever be calm, not until this is finally over. I can’t do this again. We have Ethan to think about, too.” My voice soars dramatically. I slowly drop my gaze from his, move to the table, and brace myself for the next blow to expel from his lips. I can’t wait for the day to come when I never have to hear the name Jesse again. I’d rather listen to my son say every fucking cuss word known for the rest of my days than listen to the man I love spill poison out of his. Poison that’s going to seep into my veins by way of burning my skin.