by Sadie King
“I know it’s soon. But from the moment I saw you, I knew you were the girl for me.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“But I can’t afford to live here.”
“Do you feel the same?” he asks.
I think of the last twenty-four hours, chatting with him, the way I feel every time he touches me. I nod. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He smiles. “Then don’t worry about the money, honey. It’s all taken care of.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I know this is the time to tell him about the bag of pot I’m sitting on. But I don’t want to ruin the moment, and so I kiss him instead. It’s a slow, tender kiss, his lips gently exploring me, his tongue pushing softly into my mouth. I breathe him in and feel dizzy with the scent of him.
His hand slides onto my thigh, and even through my jeans it feels warm and firm and makes my lady parts ache with longing. His thumb trails up my inner thigh and I angle my body towards him, offering him more of me. He takes it hungrily, his hands running up my body and under my t-shirt. I gasp as he touches my hot skin, his hand resting on my lower back.
He smiles at me, and I close my eyes and tilt my head back as he nuzzles my neck. His hand runs down my back and over my ass, and suddenly he’s lifting me off the bed and onto his lap, his hands exploring my curvy ass and thighs.
Then he stops. I hear the crinkle of plastic, and I open my eyes. He’s holding the bag of weed, staring at it.
His expression changes from soft confusion to hard disappointment. His hand drops from my ass, and I flop back onto the bed next to him.
“What’s this doing in my house?” His voice is hard and cold, and it feels like a punch to the stomach.
“It’s not mine,” I say quickly.
His eyes burrow into mine. “Were you hiding it from me?”
My mouth drops open.
“Were you?”
I nod. “But it’s not what you think...”
He stands up abruptly, cutting me off. “I open up my home to you, and you bring this in here.”
“It’s not mine, Carver. I swear it’s not.”
“How the hell did it get into my house then?”
I open my mouth to speak, but how can I tell him that I went back to the flat when he forbid me to just this morning. Whichever way you look at it, I’ve let him down. Tears sting my eyes and I look down, unable to speak.
“I thought so,” he says. “It’s my own fault. Wrapped up in some stupid notion that I’d fallen in love with you at first sight. But the truth is I don’t even know you. It’s lucky I discovered this now before things went too far.”
The tears are streaming now, and I can’t even speak, but it doesn’t matter because he’s left the room, and I’m left sobbing on the bed as I watch the only man I’ve ever loved walk away from me.
8
Carver
I go straight to the basement and pull on my boxing gloves. I’m so angry with myself for believing that I had actually found a woman I could love. I raise my fists and punch the bag furiously, not caring about technique, just punching as hard as I can. As the thwack of my fist hitting the vinyl bag jolts through me, I feel the anger start to subside.
It’s my own fault. I wanted so much for her to be as sweet and innocent as she was beautiful, but how much do I really know her?
I do a series of uppercuts, slamming the bag until the chain rattles the ceiling.
I have a cop’s instincts about people, and this is the first time I’ve gotten it so wrong. Sweat is pouring off my face, and I’m breathing hard and fast.
A thought occurs to me so swiftly that I miss the next punch, and I have to dodge the bag as it swings awkwardly towards me. I grab it between my hands and lean my sweaty forehead on it, gasping for breath.
Maybe she’s telling the truth. Maybe the weed’s not hers. I let the idea roll around in my head, examining it like a piece of evidence.
What if my instincts about her are right? But if it’s not hers, how did it get into her possession, and why was she hiding it from me?
The thoughts are running through my head when I hear a creak on the stairs. I turn around, and there she is at the top of the stairs, her bags packed next to her.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” she says. “The pot’s not mine. I found it in my bag just before you came into my room. I panicked and hid it from you.”
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm and wait for her to go on.
“I went back to the house today to get the rest of my things.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I made her promise not to go back there. Then I remember the conversation this morning. She didn’t actually promise.
“I saw Jess at the house, and she wasn’t happy. I think she slipped it into my bag. I think she wanted you to find it and for this to happen.”
“Why did you go back to the house?”
“I didn’t want you to see that I only had trash bags to put the rest of my things in. I was embarrassed.”
I notice her bags for the first time. Alongside the old suitcase I helped her move she’s got two bags stuffed with belongings.
“I’m truly sorry I let you down.” Her voice starts to crack and a piece of my heart cracks with it.
“I’ve called a taxi to come and get me. Goodbye, Carver. I’m sorry.”
She turns away, and I watch her hoist her bags over her shoulder and wheel the suitcase away.
I stand staring after her until I hear her go out the front door.
The sound of the door slamming jolts me into action. And I know with all certainty that I can’t let her walk out of my life. I pull my gloves off and take the stairs two at a time, racing to the front door. As I pull the door open, she’s loading her bags into the trunk of a car.
“Wait.”
She turns suddenly, and her face is a mix of pain and hope.
In two strides I’m next to her and wiping the tears off her face with my thumbs.
“I believe you, Amber.”
She lets out a sob and collapses on my shoulder.
“I’m angry that you went back to that place without me, but I understand why you did.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have believed you. But the truth is that this has all happened so fast, and we don’t really know each other.”
“I know that I love you.” She looks up at me with those big green eyes, and the crack in my heart starts to heal.
I rest my hands on her cheeks and press my lips against hers. She tastes of salt and sweetness.
“Hey, you getting in or what?” the cabbie asks.
“No.” I say. “Sorry, buddy. We don’t need you after all.”
The cabbie swears as I take the bags out of the trunk. I hand him some bills and he drives off.
I turn to Amber. “I still want you to stay.”
She nods.
“But I think we should take it slowly and get to know each other a bit better.”
“That sounds good to me.” She smiles up at me, and the last traces of doubt fly from my mind.
“You still want chicken pasta?” she asks.
“You bet.”
We go into the house together, and as I take her bags up to her room, I can hear her singing in the kitchen.
I smile to myself, my heart warm with the anticipation of spending an evening in her company.
Epilogue 1
Two Weeks later…
Amber
“I’m home,” I call out, dropping my backpack in the kitchen.
I can hear the punching bag rattling down in the basement. It’s become a reassuring sound, letting me know Carver’s at home.
I open the fridge and pull out a can of soda as I scan the shelves. It’s my turn to cook tonight, and I haven’t prepped anything.
I hear the rattling stop and his steps on the creaky basement stairs.
“There’re some sausages in here. I could do a casserole?” I say, looking over m
y shoulder.
My breath catches in my throat when I see him. He’s wearing his gray gym shorts and a white tank top that shows off the muscles in his arms to perfection. Sweat has plastered the cotton fabric to his chest, outlining his perfect pecs.
But it’s the way he’s looking at me that makes my heart race. I’m bent over looking deep into the fridge, and he’s eyeing my ass like I’m a juicy piece of steak.
The last two weeks have been the best in my life. We’ve spent every evening together, taking turns cooking, talking over dinner, and going for walks in the evenings. We’ve talked about our favorite films and music, our childhoods, families, hopes, and fears.
I’d say we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. But we made a promise to take it slow, so while we’ve shared long lingering kisses, it’s never gone further than that. Each night I go to sleep in my own room where I toss and turn all night imagining his hands on me.
The sexual tension between us has built up until I’m at my breaking point. If I don’t have him soon, I’m going to explode.
I turn around slowly and put the packet of sausages on the countertop.
“What do you think about sausages?” I say, my voice croaky.
In two steps he crosses the kitchen.
“Honey, the only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
His lips are on me, firm and urgent. Up close he smells of sweat and vinyl from his punching bag. It’s a scent so masculine it almost overwhelms me.
His hands run down my body and rest on my hips. As he presses himself into me, I feel the hardness of his erection through his thin jogging shorts. And I press myself against him, my lady parts aching for him.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I say breathlessly.
“Neither do I, honey.”
He nudges me backwards until I’m pressed against the kitchen counter. His kisses are urgent and needy, and he lifts me up, knocking over the fruit bowl in his haste.
I giggle as an orange rolls off the counter and lands with a splat on the floor. My laugh catches in my throat as his lips, hot as fire, trail down to the soft skin of my neck.
His hands are pulling at my jeans and he slides them off me, crouching down until he’s kneeling in front of me. I don’t have time to be embarrassed about the size of my thighs, because his head is already nudging them apart. I moan as his fingers brush over my damp panties.
“My god, I want you,” he says.
I can barely breathe, let alone answer him. But I don’t need to, because suddenly his breath is on my thighs and he’s trailing his warm tongue along my skin.
I moan as his hot breath hits my panties, filtering through to my wet place. He hooks his hands over my panties and pulls them off.
Cold air hits my pussy, and then his tongue is on me. I moan as sharp spikes of pleasure radiate from my core. He’s fast and insistent, and as he presses into me, I open up for him, letting him share all of me.
I feel wild and vulnerable and safe all at once as he lifts me towards a kind of pleasure I’ve never known before.
Just when I think I can’t climb any more, he slides a finger into my wet hole. I cry out as he slides it in and out, his urgency matching my need. Then I’m over the top, climaxing as my pussy contracts around him. His tongue presses into me, riding out the orgasm that seems to go on for a frozen moment in time.
The shuddering stops, but there’s not time to recover. He stands up and drops his pants and his cock points straight at me, thick and pulsing.
“It’s time to claim you as mine, Amber.”
He takes a condom out of the kitchen drawer and slides it on.
“Funny place to keep a condom,” I say.
“Not when you’ve been driving me crazy every time I see you in the kitchen. I almost jumped you this morning when you were in your pajamas.”
He takes up a position between my legs, and I open up for him. His hands grab the back of my ass, and he guides his dick ‘til it’s positioned at the tip of my hole. The weight of his dick pressed against my opening sends a thrill deep into my gut.
“You ready, honey?” he asks.
I nod.
He kisses me gently on the mouth as he slides his dick in an inch. I lean forward, wanting more, but he holds back, teasing me.
I run my hand down to hold his dick, and he takes my hands in his.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m driving this show.”
He pins my hand behind my back, making my chest poke out. Slowly he kisses my breasts, sucking on the nipples, and ever so slowly he slides a little more into me.
I moan as he does, wanting him to fill me up, but he stops again, his tongue flicking my nipple. I writhe against him, trying to slide my hungry pussy down his shaft.
Just when I think I can’t stand it anymore; he thrusts inside me. I cry out as white heatwaves shoot through me. He slides out and thrusts again. I’m completely powerless against him, my hips trying to keep up with his thrusts as he fucks me against the countertop. My hands are still pinned behind my back and I submit to him, letting him fuck me as hard and fast as he likes. My body is on fire and slick with sweat.
“Carver!” I scream with every thrust, needing an outlet for the intense pleasure that courses through me. Then I’m climaxing as I scream his name. He slams into me, crying out as he explodes inside me. We peak together, our pleasure entwined with our bodies.
After a while, he releases my hands and I fall against him, exhausted and satisfied. We hold each other, panting and sweaty, joined together by our shared experience.
“You okay, honey?” has asks, lifting my chin so that I look him in the eye.
“I’m better than okay.”
He smiles, and I rest my head against him again. My heart is full as he holds my in his arms. A feeling of happiness washes over me. I’m where I’m meant to be with the person I’m meant to be with. I’ve finally found my home.
Epilogue 2
Five years later…
Carver
I tiptoe into the nursery and lean over the crib My son is almost two years old, but I never tire of watching him sleep. It’s the first place I go when I get home from a shift.
Watching his little chest go up and down, one arm thrown over his head, the other clutching his scraggly toy rabbit, never fails to make me smile. It’s the best tonic after a hard day at work.
He stirs as I tuck the blanket around him, and I leave the room quietly hoping he doesn’t wake up.
I head downstairs and to the kitchen where Amber is making dinner.
She has her hair tied back, and a few strands are plastered to her forehead as she leans over a steaming pot. Her round pregnant belly means she has to lean over to stir the pot and the sight of her ass slightly raised sends the blood shooting to my dick. There’s something about watching her cook that always seems to turn me on, especially when she’s pregnant, her full breasts heavy with milk.
“Good day, wifey?” I ask.
We got married exactly a year after we met, and I still get a thrill out of calling her my wife.
“I finished up with my last client today. Let’s hope I get a few weeks rest before this one arrives.” She rubs her belly proudly.
Amber finished up her studies and works part-time as a personal accountant. She can do most of the work from home and can fit it in around looking after kids. It’s an ideal situation for her.
I thought she might not want to go back to work after having babies, but she’s determined to work part-time at least. With the second baby on the way, I couldn’t be happier.
I walk up behind her and slide my arm around her belly.
“What’s for dinner?”
She turns and gives me a kiss on the lips, and I press my erection into her.
She raise her eyebrows at me and smiles.
“I’m making pasta. But it can wait.”
She turns the stove off and presses herself into me. I kiss her soft lips, and as I run my hands over her body, I think to mysel
f that I’ve got to be the luckiest man alive to have this woman in my arms.
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Fox in the Garden is a bonus book in the Filthy Rich Love series, exclusive to email subscribers.
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