by Anne Connor
“It’s okay,” he says. “I want you to fill my room with those sweet moans.”
He works the button on my shorts and pulls the zipper down slowly, brushing against me with his fingers. My breath hitches far back in my throat as his lips come back to my flesh, to my lower belly, as he slowly slides off my shorts and panties in one pull.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he grows, pushing my legs up. He holds me open with two fingers, and makes a circle against my clit with the tips of his hard tongue.
“Fuck,” I exhale, my body on fire. It feels so good to be with him. My body tenses up as he sucks my clit into his mouth and starts rolling against it with his soft, broad tongue.
My legs quiver as I tense up, feeling the tip of his finger against my opening.
“Cum for me,” he growls, pushing two fingers up and inside me. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”
He curls his fingers up, coaxing me toward the edge. I get there so fast, and I spill over, my back arching as I moan his name, running my fingers through his hair.
“That feels so good,” I sigh. He smiles up at me and kneels between my legs again. My body tenses in anticipation because I know he isn’t finished. He pushes his jeans and boxers down, pulling out his cock and stroking it. Seeing him like this makes me crazy with hot desire. It’s in my belly, inside my mind.
“You make me feel good,” he responds. “Even if I never touched you again, you’d be the most beautiful thing in my life. The thing that I want the most.”
He pushes himself down onto me gently, and I wrap my legs up around his waist. He drags his hand down the side of my body, roaming along my curves, making my back arch off the bed.
His arm scoops around to my back and he holds me close, aligning himself with my pussy. I’m so wet, and so wanting, and he enters me hard and fast, bringing my body to his.
His lips part and take mine, and he kisses me frantically. His name is painted on my lips, and as his body moves against me, he fills me up, his cock pressing against the innermost depths of my body. I feel so tight with him inside me, and I can’t help moaning and mewling into his mouth.
Travis pulls his mouth away from me, a wicked and gorgeous smile on his lips as his body moves above me, slamming into me over and over. His arms make a cage around my body, keeping me safe and needy and begging.
His fingers slip up to my neck and he curls a lock of hair up around his fingers, tugging gently. This was always the move I thought of when I fantasized about him when he was gone. It was a reminder of how well he knew me, how he could read me and give me what I wanted. He always put me first. He always put himself last.
“I missed you, Travis” I ask, putting my hands on his shoulders. He looks down at me with needy reverence.
His eyes scan up and down my body and he shakes his head, giving my hair another little tug.
“You’re everything I want, right here. This is all I want.”
I swallow thickly and bite down on my bottom to stop the tears from coming.
He’s everything I want, too.
He kisses me again, pressing our bodies together. His cock feels thick and full inside me, and I feel myself start to cum again, reacting to the heat between us. He slams into me, pressing his lips onto mine, and our kisses become less frantic. They become slow and sweet.
Travis lays down beside me, curling his arm over me, lacing his fingers through mine.
I’m ready for him. I’m ready for all of it.
I have to risk my father being cross at me. I have to risk Travis going away again. I have to risk getting my heart broken again.
I have to risk it all for him. Because the alternative would be worse. No being with him...not feeling that excitement, the rush he gives me, the adrenaline I feel soaring through my body when he looks at me with those eyes and kisses me with those lips. When he holds me and whispers and makes love to me.
I can’t risk not having that anymore.
Epilogue
Travis - One Week Later
“I think these can be put away for a while.” Alec pulls two oversized snow shovels from the back of his pickup. The ground has stayed dry, and it’s been warmer than normal. I wish winter would come, but fixing up an old house in the warmer weather is easier than fixing it up with snow on the ground.
“Oh, these are perfect.” I hop into the bed of his truck and see a few oversized planters. One of the projects I’m tackling today is repotting all of mom’s plants. I want to try to save as much as I can, get her sunroom back to where it used to be.
Alec hops into the back of the truck and starts moving one of the planters with his knees.
“Help me with this,” he says. I hop down and help pull it to the edge, cradling it as Alec eases himself down next to me. Together we move it over to the edge of the steps.
“There’s new soil in there, too,” Alec says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “All the shit you’ve got is dried up. You’re gonna have to replace all of it.”
“I hope the roots aren’t too damaged.”
I glance up at the sunroom. The screening is torn at the edges and the parts that are intact are covered with dirt. The glass is streaky and foggy.
Hearing a sound behind me, I turn around and see Daisy coming out of her house and walking over to me. She’s wearing a simple white and her sneakers. She is a fucking knockout. Her long brown hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail and she smiles and waves over at Alec as she walks across the lawn to my house.
“You can’t help if you’re wearing that,” I tease. “You wouldn’t want that dress to get all dirty.”
She smirks up at me and I lean down to give her a quick peck.
“I’m here bearing good news,” she says, putting her hands together. Alec glances over at us and starts over, putting down the bag of potting soil he was hauling off the truck.
“Good news?” Alec asks, his eyebrow arches.
“Yes,” she says. “Dad wanted me to tell you as soon as he found out. The charges against you have been dropped. A witness was able to identify the guy who robbed that liquor store.”
“That’s great,” I say. My heart is flying around in my chest, and I feel like a burden’s been taken off my shoulders. A weight has been lifted. Even though we both knew I hadn’t done it, with her father and Colin working the case, I knew I wouldn’t be clear until there was incontrovertible proof someone else had done it.
“It is great,” she says, throwing her arms around my shoulders. This is where I belong. It feels so right.
“There’s something else, though,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “I need to ask you something.”
Her mouth pulls up at the corners, her lips curling up into a pretty, expectant smile.
“Daisy,” I say, pulling the box with the ring out of my pocket, “wear this ring again. I know I already proposed to you once, and you already said yes once, but I need you to say yes again.”
Her fingers fly to her lips, and her smile spreads, brightening up her whole face.
“Of course, Travis,” she sighs. “I should never have stopped wearing it. I never stopped loving you.”
She jumps into my arms, throwing her arms around my shoulders, and I lift her into the air, our mouths coming together passionately.
“There’s something else,” I say. “Move in with me. I don’t want to live next door anymore. I want you to move in.”
I see her chest rise and fall as she inhales and exhales deeply.
She nods, and she blinks away the beginning of a tear.
I’ve felt loss in my life, but I can’t lose her. That would break me.
Instead, she helped me put the pieces back together.
“Yes,” she says, embracing me. “I already feel like I’m home when I’m with you. I love you.”
Alec, standing somewhere behind me, lets out a wolf whistle. Daisy laughs and waves her hand at him, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“I love you too, Dais
y,” I say. I take her in for another kiss.
My house won’t be empty anymore. And maybe it wasn’t my fault it was empty to begin with - though, maybe it was. Maybe I’ve been okay. I do know I’ve tried my best.
The path to this moment could have been better, but it couldn’t have been any different. The choices we’ve made have shaped everything leading up to this moment.
Daisy pulls away from me gently and goes over to Alec’s truck, hopping into the back. There isn’t much back there that she’ll be able to handle on her own, but she finds a black plastic tray of bright pink flowers and starts to carry them over to the front porch.
We’ll fix up the house together, make it ours. I worked hard to save it. And I’ll keep working hard to keep Daisy.
Now I’m ready for anything. I won’t let her go again.
THE END
Don’t want to stop there? I’ve also included two bonus full-length romance novels for your continued reading pleasure.
Push
A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Prologue
Cherry
When I awake, my body starts first, before my mind does. My eyes flutter open and my body shifts into reality. My mind doesn’t react, though.
All I can see in the darkness is light. It’s the sliver of light bolting across the floor. Everything looks calm, but the earth beneath me is shifting. Plates deep inside me are moving.
And then my mind starts to catch up. A wave of nausea rises in my chest and enters my throat. But then I find relief.
His hand comes down on my shoulder. His fingers are warm and rough on my cold, smooth skin. An alabaster facade, perfect and pure.
The light from the bathroom begins to bleed at the edges as my eyes shift into focus. The light isn’t the only thing I can see anymore. The room is beginning to illuminate as my mind catches up with my body.
Shifting my legs, I scissor my ankles together and can feel the dampness between my thighs. My mind keeps moving to keep up with my body.
“It’s okay.” Sean whispers and gently squeezes my shoulder. His touch is golden and soothing.
I turn to him, nuzzling into his chest. I allow my fingers to reach up and move along his hard chest, the skin marred with imperfections and the muscles perfectly built and sculpted.
Allow. That word...
He puts his mouth onto mine gently and sweetly, moving his hand down my stomach to between my legs. I moan softly into his mouth as he moves it away slightly. I feel his breath on my neck as he moves his lips against me, trailing down to my neck. His fingers dip against me, slide against me, making me wetter.
“It’s okay,” he growls. “You don’t have to be quiet if you don’t want to, Cherry.”
I can’t allow myself to do it. I hold back. But I let him go farther. He props himself up with one elbow and moves down the bed. I keep the blanket pulled tightly up under my arms, shielding myself from him.
Sean lifts a corner of the sheet and peeks underneath. I don’t know if he can see all of me or just my legs. I shift and bend my legs at the knees as he watches intently. He shifts his eyes up to me. His expression is painted with pure lust and want.
He lifts a corner of the sheet again and moves beneath it. Biting down on my bottom lip, I feel his strong hands part my legs at the knees. I close my eyes and my allow my head to fall back on the pillow.
His teeth nip me on my inner thigh as he pushes my legs apart wider, one hand on each of my knees. I want him to keep going, but my body tenses and I try to push my knees together instinctively.
“It’s okay, Cherry,” he growls. I can hear him from under the pale white sheet, made darker in the dim light of the room. I allow my body to relax and I give way to the pressure of his hands pushing me open. His mouth trails down my thigh, swooping along my supple curves.
My mind races to keep up with my body.
I feel his mouth on me, his tongue sweeping across my wet flesh. I hear the cool rumble of the air conditioner, but pricks of heat rise across my chest. Pushing the sheet down and pulling it tightly across my breasts, I keep it close to my body as I close my eyes.
I don’t know how I ended up here, and I don’t know how I’ll get out. I don’t know if this man has rescued me, or done something else.
We’ve agreed to keep a secret between us, one that could ruin me if it gets out. I need to trust him. My life depends on him keeping the secret between us, and away from them.
His fingers part me and hold me open as his tongue finds its way. I shudder and my body heats at his touch, rippling out in waves. Starting at his fingers. Ending in my core.
He winds down and finds my opening, dipping into me. I feel my body clench against the weight of his fingers and grasp the sheet tightly.
My back begins to arch off the bed. He speeds up, grinding into me, his tongue tracing against me in small circles.
“Cherry, let go.” He rumbles and I feel his breath against the inside of my thigh. His lips touch me and the sharp blades of hair on his face scratch against my skin. “Let go.”
Cherry
Twelve Hours Earlier
They say it feels like time slows down when you feel threatened. When you’re in trouble. They say it’s a product of our adaptation as a species. I’ve felt it. I’ve seen it. And I know that the man I’m walking toward right now is trouble, from the way the faces around me seem to freeze, contorted into expressions of laughter and delight, while I’m dying on the inside.
Time ticks by slowly.
They say it’s fight or flight. When you feel threatened, you don’t have time to think. Something primal takes over. Something animal. That’s why time slows down - so you can observe the shit happening around you without having to process it as quickly. Because you can’t, or won’t, or because your brain is calculating every single permutation of the possible outcomes of the fucked up circumstance you find yourself in.
But that’s not why I know the man I’m walking toward is trouble.
I know he’s trouble because I’m delivering a bag full of money to him, and I’m not allowed to know his name. He knows my name, but I’m not allowed to know his.
He has no fucking name. He’s just one of them.
All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my chest. The dry desert air is thick around me as I wade through it. Even the lights of the marquis over my head are dull and blotted out with the sound of my heart slamming into my ribs. Ready to crack them at any moment with its heavy thud.
I tremble as I step up to him, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. My chest, tight, falls as I exhale and my shaky breath comes out. I dig my fingernails into the alabaster flesh of my inner wrist, willing time to speed up.
The man pulls the bag away from me. He isn’t afraid to be seen in public with a bag full of cash by security guards and cops tapping on the batons at their hips. It’s like they don’t even see us. They’re probably in on this too. Or maybe the man I’m standing before as he shifts the bag from one calloused hand to the other is the real cop. Maybe the men standing around are being protected by him. Served by him. Or at least, someone he works for.
His thick fingers grasp the bottom of the canvas bag, and he massages it as he looks into my eyes like a wolf ready to pounce. I was told to wear something nice so I’d fit in. He isn’t even looking down at my breasts. He’s looking straight into my eyes, and somehow that’s even worse.
I don’t look down at myself, but I want to. I want to check to make sure the edge of my corset top is covering everything I need it to. I want to make sure my breasts are inside my bra. I was told to wear a push-up bra for the man I would meet.
But I don’t look down. I look up at him, and I can’t look away. Because I know taking my eyes off what’s threatening me, even for one second, could mean hell for me.
Something swims inside me. Something perverse. His eyes shift lower, but he doesn’t look at my body. His eyes are on my lips. His lips part and his jaw juts out, clenching, hard.
He massages the bottom of the bag again. The stacks of cash clipped together inside move like gel in a lava lamp.
“Feels a little bit light, miss.” He speaks. It speaks. The man without a name has something to say.
I know every cent is there. I counted it myself when I left the bank, drained the only account I had open. It was the savings I shared with Dad.
“That’s what my father owes you.” My voice shakes and I make the mistake of taking my eyes off him for a split second.
But I feel that perversion on him, moving between our bodies. His energy is menacing. And it’s downright magnetic, even though it shouldn’t be. But that doesn’t matter. There’s something behind it, too. Something soft behind the rock-hard muscle and the steely gaze. It’s something I can’t put my finger on. It’s something like sympathy.
I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me, though. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’ve just found myself in a situation that’s not of my making, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything I can to right the wrongs that have been done.
The wrongs. I can’t even name them. I can’t even think of them. They can’t be identified. They’re out of reach, between my father and these men.
I don’t know what he’s done, or why he owes them. A few nights a month counting cards and trading in stacks of chips for stacks of cash couldn’t have landed him in the shit he’s in.
Or was in, I should say.
Now they’ve come looking for me to pay his debt. To supply retribution for the sins of my father.
Maybe I don’t want to know the truth. This is a transaction for me, and even though I’m scared as all hell, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my father.
I’d take a bullet for him.
This is the bullet.