by Anya Summers
His mouth never left hers as he undid his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down far enough to reveal his dick. His engorged shaft sprang free, and pre-cum seeped from the crown. He ripped her panties. The tiny ivory thong was an impediment to what he wanted most, and he wasn’t setting her down. Cora gasped.
Garrett rubbed his hand between her thighs, caressing the folds of her sweet pussy, and discovered she was drenched. He rolled the condom down his length, then ran the head through her slick sex. Her head thunked back against the fridge door.
“Look at me. Tell me you want this,” he commanded, holding his cock at the entrance to her slick heat.
Cora lifted her head, her gaze heavy-lidded. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you were right. I do want you. Please… Sir,” she pleaded and her capitulation, her need for him, drove him wild. It fueled his passion.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He growled the command.
With one hand on her ass, he guided his cock with the other. As he pressed just the tip inside, Cora’s eyes widened, glazed with passion at the invasion. Her heat quivered around the crest and Garrett worried for the first time in longer than he could remember that he wouldn’t last. That a few squeezes of her heat clamped around him would make him climax without taking care of her first. Inhaling a steadying breath, he rolled his hips and plunged his dick inside her scorching sheath until he was balls deep.
Fuck. He hissed. Her pussy fluttered around his girth. It was like plugging his cock into electrified silk.
“Oh god,” she moaned, her nails digging in to the back of his neck.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Feel the way your cunt squeezes my dick,” he commanded, gliding in and out of her sheath.
Her eyelids slid shut in ecstasy and he stopped thrusting. Cora whimpered in frustration.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart. I want them on me as I fuck you. Close your eyes and I will stop, then make you watch me jack off and not let you come,” he said with a growl.
Her pussy clenched around him at his words. But she obeyed him and lifted her eyelids, a pleasured daze clouding the depths of her eyes.
“You like it when I talk dirty to you,” he said, and resumed pumping his hips, gliding his dick in and out of her clenching heat.
“Yes,” she panted.
“Good. I must say, sweetheart, I love your sweet cunt,” he growled, increasing the tempo of his thrusts. She clung to him, wrapped around his body like a second skin as he hammered his shaft. Her breathy moans spurred him onward.
“Garrett,” she keened.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Surrender. Give me all of you.” He gripped her hair in one hand and tugged her head back, then buried his face against her neck and proceeded to piston his cock inside her fluttering cunt. Over and over he plunged inside her. Pleasure arced along his spine to pool in his groin.
And he felt it, her surrender, the subtle shift in her body as she ceded him full command of her being. He turned downright primitive, her capitulation unleashing the dominant beast inside.
Garrett fucked her, pounding his dick inside her pussy, attempting to imprint himself on her on almost a cellular level. She would remember him. She might have been married once, might have loved her husband, and borne him a son. But Garrett was ensuring, with every jackhammered stroke of his cock inside her, that he ruined her for all other men. That when she thought of the greatest sex of her life, it was his image, it was this, him fucking her against her fridge, that she remembered.
Why it mattered to him, he wasn’t ready to deal with, and he ignored the feelings rising in his chest. But he used it, as fuel, to further fan the flames of their combined ardor.
Her cries rose in pitch and frequency, filling her tiny kitchen.
“Hush. You don’t want to wake Milo. If you don’t quiet down, I’ll stop.”
She whimpered and pressed her mouth against his throat, muffling her cries of ecstasy. His balls drew taut and his cock swelled as he thrust. His control slipped with every glide inside her.
“Come for me,” he ordered. Releasing her hair from his hold, he slipped his hand down between them and started rubbing the tight bud of her clit. Cora went wild, slamming her hips against his thrusts. But then he felt it. Her body arched. Her teeth sank into his neck. And her pussy spasmed around his plunging dick.
His cock jerked. He strained as his climax exploded mere seconds after hers, pouring what felt like gallons of semen inside the condom. He thrust.
“That’s it. Milk my cock,” he growled, pumping his hips frantically. Garrett thrust until the last drop of his seed emptied from his cock and he felt his shaft begin to soften.
Aftershocks rocked them as he held her. Her juices coated his crotch and even the tops of his thighs. It wasn’t lost on him that she was still wearing her top and that he’d done little more than shove his pants down. He held her, his face buried against her neck, until their heartrates returned to normal. Only then did he raise his head and look at her. Cora opened her eyes and gazed at him. When her bottom lip trembled, he brushed his mouth over hers.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
But then she shoved against his chest. “Let me go.”
He spied the tears in her eyes. “No. Tell me what just happened. Where did your mind just go?”
“I don’t… I can’t… I just need you to leave,” she said with a sob in her voice.
“I won’t until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Mama!” Her son’s voice echoed down the stairs.
“Get off me. Now, dammit!” she said with another shove. And he let her, setting her on her feet and taking a step back. Then another.
She grabbed her shorts and tugged them on. And as she did so she erected the wall back up between them. Gone was the soft tenderness in her eyes and her pliant form. Rigid and unyielding, she nodded toward her front door. “You need to go.”
“Cora, we need to talk.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion. When I come back downstairs, I want you gone,” she said and headed up the stairs without a backward glance. “Hi, baby. It’s all right.” Then he heard the bedroom door shut firmly, effectively shutting him out of her life.
Garrett was dumbfounded. They’d made headway and she’d yanked it back. Anger seethed. What the fuck had just happened? He ran a hand over his face to try and make sense of his confusion. It had all shifted so fast. His brain was still cloudy with afterglow bliss. Glancing down at himself, he finally disposed of the condom in the trash and pulled his pants up.
Like hell was he leaving. Not until they’d had a chance to talk.
He scooped up his hat on his trek into the living room. He’d wait her out. He had a seat on her couch. Once Milo was back asleep, she was going to explain herself. Explain why she’d changed so suddenly. And this was the second time she’d run from him. She could get mad at him later, but he was staying until they had a chance to talk.
Or so he told himself.
Making himself comfortable he leaned back, put his feet up on the ottoman, and tipped his head back while he waited. A deep, quiet stillness descended on the condo. It was the time when night was darkest, just before the first gasp of dawn and the light returned. Garrett closed his eyes, just to rest them for a minute.
But the day, and the mind-blowing sex, finally caught up with him, and the last thing he remembered thinking was how much he still desired her. That even having tasted her charms, she was a heady temptation he had not gotten enough of yet. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 9
Garrett jerked awake.
Golden sunlight illuminated the room. He wiped a line of drool from his bearded chin and blinked, not recognizing his surroundings with the bright red sofa and ottoman, nor the toy section in the far corner. Shit. He must have dozed off. This was Cora’s place. He wondered how pissed off she would be that he had inadvertently spent the night. As his vision adjusted to the way too
fucking bright light streaming in through the windows, he sensed a body next to him on the couch. Glancing to his left, he discovered Milo sitting on the couch beside him in a navy pajama onesie with feet, munching on some type of dry breakfast cereal from a bowl.
“Hey there, squirt.”
“You were asleep, like this,” Milo said and imitated him tossing his head back and opening his mouth wide.
“Yeah, that I was. What do you have there?” Garrett indicated the bowl in the boy’s hand.
“Crunch berries. Do you have a horse? Mama says that cowboys ride horses and have a dog.”
Garrett grinned, charmed by the kid in spite of himself and the fact that he needed a cup of coffee like he needed air to breathe. “You like horses?”
“Yep. I can’t ride them yet. And I like dogs. Mama says I can have a dog.”
“Is that right? Well, I’ll tell you a secret. Some of my good friends own lots of horses. Maybe I could take you both to meet them one day. Would you like that?”
Milo nodded with a huge grin on his cherubic face. Garrett could see parts of Cora in her son. The shape of his pale blue eyes, the line of his nose, even his golden skin tone, but the rest must belong to her deceased husband.
After seeing Cora in action last night, he could only imagine the weight she carried, being a single parent without a choice. From what he’d seen, she was doing a bang-up job. Even under the weather, Milo was intelligent and sweet.
And then he heard it, a series of loud, clapping farts, and he glanced at the little boy.
“Was that you?” Garrett asked with a raised brow.
Milo nodded and giggled. “Mama doesn’t like it when I fart.”
“Yes, well, she’s a girl and they don’t get these things. It’s something that us guys like to do.” Garrett wiggled his brows at him. Milo threw his head back and laughed. The kid laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. His joy was contagious and before Garrett realized it, he was laughing with the boy.
“Baby, what are you getting into?” Cora said, entering the room. Garrett glanced her way and almost sawed off his tongue. For a woman who’d gotten hardly any sleep, she looked fresh and rested. Gone was her waitress uniform, in its place were a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and an ultra-feminine gauzy cream top. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Simple. Elegant. And he wanted her again.
When she spied him, her eyes narrowed, and a hard glint entered them. “What are you still doing here?”
“We needed to talk.” He could be just as stubborn as she, and he wanted to figure out what had happened. Why she’d suddenly freaked out and shoved him away after their world-altering sex. Because he didn’t think it had anything to do with her son being awake and crying for her or a need to protect Milo. There was more to her backpedaling and the way she’d shut him out than that.
“So you stayed all night?” she asked sweetly. He didn’t miss the undertone of fury coating her words. If they were alone, she wouldn’t be holding back and hiding her rage. She was clenching and unclenching her hands into fists, almost like she wanted to wring his neck.
“Not intentionally. I sat down to wait for you to return so we could talk and I nodded off,” he said with a shrug, mindful of the young ears in the room paying attention to their entire interaction.
“Wish I would have known that sooner. Then I could have had you drive me to my car instead of calling someone to come get me. Milo has a doctor’s appointment this morning.”
“Who’s taking you?” he asked. She was new in town, so she couldn’t have made that many friends yet. Whom had she called? And why was he upset that she hadn’t thought to contact him? Never mind the fact that she didn’t have his number. It was asinine of him, he knew.
“My cousin.” She tilted her head as if she was listening to something only she could hear.
And then he heard the rumble of a truck pulling into the drive. At the noise, Milo climbed off the couch and ran to the window on his short legs. He peered through the curtains, then started jumping up and down, yelling, “Uncle, uncle!”
Cora strode to the front door with a tight smile on her face. Maybe Garrett should have gone home last night—er, this morning. Who was her cousin? He had to admit he was decidedly curious.
Cora opened her oak front door. “Hey, thank you so much for coming.”
“Not a problem. Whose truck is in the driveway?” a voice Garrett was all too familiar with asked. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Cora took a step back to give the man room to enter. Spencer Collins ambled into her place pretty much like he did everything else, with utter surety. He and Garrett had been friends since they had met in the army more than a decade past.
More often than not, Spencer could be found looking every inch the business man. But not this morning. Today he was dressed in a long sleeved black tee with the Harley Davidson logo, blue jeans, black cowboy boots, and a dark baseball cap worn backwards and covering most of his midnight hair.
Spencer’s gaze lasered in on Garrett on Cora’s couch and his black eyes narrowed for a moment, sprinting past shock at finding him there to barely leashed fury. Garrett had witnessed that look on Spencer’s face before—right before he had all but obliterated an opponent in the boxing ring.
Garrett had never had Spencer’s love of boxing. Not that he couldn’t hold his own in a fight, because he could; the army had taught him that. But at the moment, he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Cora was Spencer’s cousin.
Garrett had screwed up. Massively.
One of the cardinal rules of their club: you don’t fuck your friend’s family members. At least, not without prior consent and approval. Garrett realized he’d not only stepped into a pile of horse manure but had already waded neck deep into the shit.
“Uncle!” Milo raced over to Spencer. Spencer bent down and scooped Milo up as if he’d done it a hundred times. The fury he’d glared Garrett’s way vanished as he turned his attention toward the boy.
“How’s my dude? I hear you’re not feeling well, little man,” Spencer said, assessing the child for adverse symptoms. Spencer even felt the kid’s forehead for a fever. When the hell had Spencer become Mister Mom? Garrett wasn’t sure what he was more surprised by—that Cora was Spencer’s cousin or that Spencer seemed right at home with a toddler.
“I have a fever. Mama said I go to the doctor and get a lollipop to make me better,” Milo said, smiling up at Spencer.
“Oh yeah? Well, you get to ride in my truck today too,” Spencer said with a wink and grin.
Milo screamed, a rather ear-piercing, loud, excited scream. Garrett was certain if there was an award for screams that could wake the dead, Milo would win.
“Milo, cut that out and come here so we can get you dressed. The sooner we get your clothes on the sooner you get to ride in Uncle Spencer’s truck,” Cora said, reaching for her son. She picked him up out of Spencer’s arms.
“We’ll be right back, and then we can leave. Garrett, you know the way out.” She nodded toward the door, dismissing him entirely.
“We still need to talk later, Cora,” Garrett murmured but finally stood. His body creaked with movement, stiff from sleeping upright. A glance at the clock in the kitchen told him he’d gotten roughly four hours of sleep. Fan-fucking-tastic.
After Cora and Milo had vacated the room, taking the stairs to the second floor, Spencer turned his black gaze on Garrett. That saying, if looks could kill a body they would be dead? Yeah, that was precisely the way Spencer was regarding him, with his eyes narrowed into angry slits, as if he was imagining the myriad number of ways he planned to kill Garrett. And Garrett knew from first-hand experience that Spencer was as lethal as they came.
“I’m going to ask you one time, no bullshitting me, what the fuck are you doing at my cousin’s house?” Spencer snarled, his voice deceptively low and laced with an undercurrent of menace.
Garrett held his hands up, palms out in a defensive manner, attempti
ng to diffuse the situation even as he stood his ground. “Spencer, stay out of it. I didn’t know she was your cousin.”
“Like hell I will.” Spencer strode toward him, his fists clenched and murder in his eyes.
Garrett wouldn’t back down from his stance, regardless that he considered Spencer his brother from another mother and respected the hell out of him. He’d not known that Cora was Spencer’s cousin and, truthfully, not even that would have deterred him from being with her. Cora did something to him on a fundamental level. He was drawn to her, craved her like a dieter craved sweets.
“Look, I didn’t intend to break our club rules. If I’d known—”
“Uncle, Uncle. Truck.” Milo came rushing back into the living room, clapping his little hands, interrupting their conversation. It was just as well. The wrath emanating from Spencer would be far too destructive. If Spencer wanted to get in a few jabs, he could. But not here in Cora’s home. He wouldn’t bring violence here, not when she already had too much to deal with on a daily basis.
Spencer shot Garrett an insidious glare and then, in a Jekyll and Hyde move, turned a smiling face down to the boy.
“Good luck at the doctor, Milo,” Garrett said, then headed to the front door. It wasn’t the best exit he’d ever made, but he needed to get out of there and clear his head a bit. Things had gone from this should be exciting, potentially claiming a new submissive, to an intense, disastrous clusterfuck.
“This isn’t over,” Spencer said before Garrett was able to escape.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Cora walk back into the living room. It would have made him feel better if the woman looked at all flustered by the situation. But she didn’t. Cool as a cucumber, that one. And damn it all if he didn’t want to ruffle her feathers a bit, break through her stalwart composure to the soft, sweetly submissive woman underneath. “I didn’t figure it was. Cora, I’ll talk to you later.”
Then Garrett escaped while he could. Climbing into his truck, watching the three of them emerge from her condo, he grimaced. That had not gone well. As much as he wanted to blame it on his lack of sleep and need for caffeine, it was much more than that. Cora was Spencer’s cousin. How had he not known that tiny but rather important fact? Seeing them side by side, he realized there was a hint of family resemblance. Not necessarily in their features, but in their bearing and the way they carried themselves.