by Selena Kitt
Then I was in the water, my legs over Rob’s shoulders, his mouth still fastened to my mound. I protested, twisted, trying to get away, but he held my hips, holding me at water level as he continued to lick and suck my clit. He was taking me there again. Again!
“Rob!” I arched and climaxed again, so fast and furious it felt as if I was tearing apart, coming completely unglued. He held me tight in his arms, forcing my sex against his face until my trembling began to subside. Then, slowly, let me go, easing me back into the water until I was floating, heart beating hard in my ears, breath coming in harsh gasps.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, kissing my inner thighs as I floated, weightless. “Again?”
“No!” I yelped in protest when he moved to lick me, covering my bare, swollen mound with my hand. “I’ll die!”
He laughed, grabbing my hips and pulling me down into the water with him. It wasn’t deep here—we could both stand. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and tasted myself in his mouth when he kissed me. His cock was like an iron bar against my belly as we floated together.
“Now can I have?” I reached my hand between us, grasping his length, feeling his body respond instantly.
“Only if you promise me you won’t make me come in your mouth.” He licked my neck, kissing my collarbone as I stroked him lazily under the water. “I want to fuck you again.”
A jolt of electricity shot through me and I nodded, promising. Anything, anything. I just had to taste him.
Rob floated us to the edge of the pool again and I watched, transfixed, as he slid himself onto the edge. The man didn’t have to worry about shrinkage, that was for sure. His cock stood straight up, wet and glistening, his scrotum dripping water, resting on the edge of the pool.
I felt his hand moving in my wet hair as I took him in my fist, pumping gently as I tongued his balls first. They were shaved completely smooth and I delighted in the taut pull of his skin, sucking first one, then the other into my mouth, hearing him moan and feeling his hand tighten into a fist.
I lapped at the base of his cock, licking all the water droplets off, working my tongue up toward the tip. He watched me with hungry eyes as I eased the head into my mouth, moaning around his length. Just having his cock in my mouth made me want him again. My pussy clamped down on nothing but was looking for more. For him.
“Oh baby.” He moaned as I took him deeper, as deep into my throat as I could without gagging, my eyes never leaving his. I loved watching the pleasure there, that heavy lidded look of lust, feeling his cock throb against my tongue. “Easy, easy. I could fill your mouth right now.”
I wanted him to. I wanted to taste him, feel him let go in my mouth, the thrust and throb and explosion of him on my tongue. But my pussy wanted him more.
“You want to fuck me?” I whispered, teasing the tip with my tongue, cupping his balls in my other hand as I floated in the water between his open legs.
He smiled, sliding back into the water to take me in his arms. It was like a dream as he entered me, impaling me on his entire length, making me gasp and clutch at him. He held me close, hands gripping my hips, guiding me fluidly, hips grinding into mine. His breath grew ragged in my ear as we neared the edge of the pool. There were steps here and he set me on one, still submerged from the waist down. He poised himself above me, his cock still moving, faster now, finding its way deep into my womb.
I looked up at him, at the stars, his skin glistening in the silver moonlight as I ran my hands down his chest, his belly, touching him where he entered me, making us both gasp.
“Yes,” he urged, looking down, watching as I rubbed my clit. “Do it. Make yourself come all over my cock, baby.”
Oh. God.
Water splashed all around us as his pace increased. I let him hold me, rock me, knowing he was going to take me there again. The easy glide of his cock between my legs, the tantalizing tease of my fingers against my clit, the way his chest grazed my hard, aching nipples, were more than enough to take me there. But it was his mouth against my ear, the harsh pull of his breath, the way he whispered my name and told me he loved me, that I was his, that carried me there.
“Mine,” he growled through gritted teeth, hips moving of their own accord now. We were animals rutting, blinded by need. “You are so. Fucking. Mine.”
“Yes,” I gasped, my teeth grazing his collarbone, licking the water off his shoulders and neck. “Oh yes, Rob, yes. Yours. Yours.”
He seemed to like the sound of that because he buried himself completely in me with a grunt and a groan, and then I was coming too, my body convulsing and bucking in the water while somewhere far above us both, I was flying, to the moon and back. I returned slowly to our atmosphere, pulling breath like it was the first oxygen I’d ever breathed into my lungs.
“I don’t want to let you go.” He held onto me when I went to move, keeping me close.
“You don’t have to,” I whispered.
I stayed wrapped up with him, both of us buoyant, weightless, silent, rocking in the water like babies in the womb. There was nothing else but us. We were all that mattered. If I’d had any doubts before I’d gotten on that plane today—and of course, I had—they had all been dispelled, even with the intrusions we’d had, the incessant reminders of fact. None of that could make this any less. I knew, in a way I’d never experienced before, exactly where I fit in to this whole grand scheme of the universe.
I belonged here, with him.
Chapter Four
“I don’t think this week could have been more perfect.” I slipped my arms around Rob’s neck and he swung me around in the surf, making me laugh out loud.
“So, we had the perfect day in Detroit when we first met—and now the perfect reunion week.” He burrowed his face against my neck, kissing salt water from my skin. “How about we make it the perfect life?”
“Well if anyone could live a perfect life, it would be you.” I rubbed my nose against his, seeing myself reflected in the mirror of his sunglasses. I hated not being able to see his eyes, but we were in public and he always insisted on the sunglasses, as if they could magically hide his identity. “You’re charmed.”
“Not all the time.” He smiled but it wasn’t his usual full, devilish Rob smile. He saw me looking at him, considering, and his smile brightened. “But definitely today.”
He kissed me, a wonderfully delicious distraction, and I let it transport me, as it always did, to some other world where only he and I existed. I wanted to live there forever.
“You hungry?” he asked when we parted, swiping a stray strand of wet hair from my cheek with his thumb. He was trying to distract me with food now, which he already knew worked. That made me smile. Sometimes I thought we didn’t know enough about each other—and there was really no remedy for that except time—but then he said something like that, proving he knew me all too well.
“Yes,” I admitted, slipping my hand in his as we waded back out of the waves, the surf foaming around our ankles. “But if you don’t quit feeding me like this, I’m going to be a whale by the time this baby’s due.”
“But you’ll be my whale.” He grinned, reaching around and grabbing a handful of my ass through my bikini bottoms. “And you have such a cute tail.”
“Robert Alan Burns!” I protested, sticking out my tongue at him as we reached the wet sand.
“That doesn’t work with me.” He laughed.
“Are you kidding me?” I raised my eyebrows. “If my mom used my full name, I knew I was in for it!”
“Not me.” He swung my hand, the fine white sand sticking to our wet feet as we walked toward the spot where we’d set up a blanket and the picnic basket Daisy had packed for us. “Honestly, I don’t think any of my foster moms even knew my middle name.”
“Oh Rob…” I frowned, shaking my head. It was so foreign to me, the idea of not having parents who cared enough to pay attention, let alone not having the person who named you still in your life. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I can’t complain.” He squeezed my hand before letting go and plopping down on the blanket, patting the spot beside him. “I’ve done pretty good for a kid who grew up in foster care.”
“Pretty good.” I laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
“What’d the Ranger pack in our pick-a-nic basket, Boo-Boo?” Rob watched, amused, as I unpacked sandwiches and a thermos full of lemonade.
“Lots of noms, Yogi.” I laughed. “God, I love Daisy. Can I take her home with me?”
“She’s kind of awesome, I have to agree.” Rob picked up a sandwich, taking off the waxed paper and devouring a square.
“The best cook ever.” The sandwiches were tuna on whole-grain bread, something that should have been boring, but in Daisy’s hands, it was sublime.
“Don’t let her hear you call her a cook,” Rob said, his mouth full.
“Chef, sorry. Chef!” I corrected myself. “I’ll call her anything she wants, as long as she keeps feeding me.”
“We’ll have to arrange that.”
I knew what he was implying but I didn’t respond, watching a toddler chase the surf, squealing every time the water rushed over his fat little feet. His mother sat on the wet sand within arm’s reach, watching and smiling. I couldn’t help but imagine our child doing the same. It was moving so fast it scared me. I was on a speeding train, I couldn’t get off, and I honestly had no idea what direction we were heading. I had my ticket in hand and knew where I wanted to go—but I didn’t know if we’d get derailed or ever make it to our destination.
“Son of a bitch.” Rob swore under his breath, quickly packing food back into the basket, much to my dismay.
“What’s the matter?”
“Paparazzi.”
We’d had to deal with them only a few times since I arrived, but we’d mostly just stayed at his “house” in the hills. We had everything we could possibly want there, except maybe the ocean. I glanced around, past the mother and her toddler, down the beach where a couple walked a golden retriever along the edge of the water. There weren’t a lot of people, honestly. A few towels and blankets dotted the sand, splashes of color.
Then I glanced the other way and saw him. There were two guys, a good football field away, both carrying cameras with huge telephoto lenses, snapping away.
“Oh my God.” I reached around the basket for my cover-up. “I’m in my bathing suit!”
“And you fill it out nicely,” Rob replied with a grin as I pulled my cover-up over my head.
“They won’t print pictures of me in my bathing suit, will they?” I blinked at him, incredulous.
How many times had I sat in the chair at my hairdresser with a People magazine in my lap and gawked at candid celebrity photos? The photographers loved to catch celebrities unaware. Especially women. If they captured a picture with even a hint of cellulite, it went into a magazine somewhere. That realization made my stomach clench.
“Of course, they will.” Rob scowled, picking up the basket as he stood. “Probably with a lot of speculation about who you are and what I’m doing with you.”
“Great.” I glanced down the beach. The photographers were getting closer. Bolder, now that they understood we’d seen them, that we were packing up to leave and seek some privacy.
“Ugh, I guess we should have stayed home.” I grimaced in the photographers’ direction, hoping they weren’t taking pictures of us from behind and, if they were, that I really didn’t look like a whale. “We can swim there.”
“But you said you always wanted to swim in the ocean.” Rob took my hand, basket in the other, the blanket over his arm.
“And now I have.” I couldn’t help smiling. “It’ll be a year of firsts.”
Jesse was waiting for us, parked up the hill. I hadn’t known he was Rob’s regular driver. I’d thought he was just someone he hired to pick me up from the airport. That morning, I’d objected at breakfast about being driven to the beach, but Jesse insisted, and I understood now. The photographers were still clicking way and gaining.
“Just stay close.”
Rob didn’t have to tell me. I was glued to his side. We were walking, but it was an extremely fast walk. Still, they closed the ground between us, calling Rob’s name, which got the attention of a bunch of teens hanging out around a picnic table. Great.
“Hurry,” Rob urged, maneuvering me in front of him, putting himself between me and the photographers.
I liked to tease him about his “magic sunglasses” and had protested being driven around town, but it all made so much more sense when there were people practically chasing us down a sandy public beach path, peppering us with questions.
Jesse already had the door of the Rolls Royce open, I saw with relief as we approached.
“Rob! Who is she?” One of the photographers called. “Where’s your wife?”
His question made my stomach hurt.
“Is it true that Tyler busted up a hotel room in Tampa?”
I looked up at Rob in surprise, seeing his dark look as he nudged me toward the car.
“Get in!” Jesse hustled me into the back seat and took the basket and blanket from Rob as he slipped in beside me. Jesse blocked the view with his big body before shutting the door. I’d never been so glad for tinted windows in my life.
One of the photographers, a short, bearded fellow wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and Crocs, knocked on the window, persistent.
“Come on, just tell us who she is!”
Rob slipped an arm around my shoulder, turning toward me to block my view of the guy pounding on the window as Jesse quickly got into the driver’s seat, the basket and blanket stowed in the trunk, and started the car.
“I don’t know how you get used to that.” I shivered as Jesse pulled away, leaving the photographers behind. I glanced behind us, watching them fade to little spots as we accelerated.
“You never do. You just learn to tolerate it. Like horses with flies.” Rob glared at them through the back window as if his eyes were laser beams and he could burn them both to a crisp. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I snuggled closer to him in the backseat, putting my head on his shoulder. “A little tired.”
Tired, apparently, was an understatement. I’d been dragging for weeks, up at five a.m. every morning to get to work, falling asleep in front of Friends reruns at seven every night. Out here, time was different. There were no responsibilities, no obligations. Just me and Rob together, talking, playing, laughing, making love. Lots of making love.
And sleeping! I took cat-naps in the afternoon, curled up in one of the oversized chairs in the library with a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in my lap—which I later learned was a first edition—and had even fallen asleep during sex. Not once, but twice. And Rob, the sweetheart he was, hadn’t complained. He just covered me up, kissed my forehead and let me sleep.
Pregnancy sure took a lot out of you.
“You got a lot of sun today.” He frowned, studying my face.
“Am I toast?” I pulled aside the strap to my bikini, looking for lines. I was painfully, blindingly Midwest-pale.
“You better not be.” He scoffed. “I put enough sunscreen on you to cover an elephant.”
“What, exactly, are you implying?” I cried. “I’m not even showing yet!”
“You are a little.” He grinned, unbuttoning the first button on my cover-up, revealing my considerable cleavage. “Especially here.”
“Rob!”
“Jesse doesn’t mind.” Rob dipped his head to feather kisses over the tops of my breasts, glancing over the seat at his driver. “Do you, Jesse?”
“Nope.” Jesse met my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, grinning.
“See?”
“You’re bad!” I laughed, pushing at Rob. “At least wait until we get home.”
“I like you calling it home.” He nuzzled my breasts, resting his head there with a soft sigh.
Home. I was going to have to go home soon. Tomorro
w was a holiday—Easter Sunday—and we had Monday off, but then it was back to my real home. Back to work. Back to my life. How could I reconcile these two worlds? It didn’t compute.
“Stay.” He whispered the word, tracing my cleavage with his finger. “Stay with me.”
“Rob…” I sighed. “You know I can’t.”
School didn’t let out until the beginning of June. It was the entire reason—well, mostly—I’d decided not to go on tour, like Katie had. She’d followed Tyler Cook, lead guitarist of Trouble, halfway around the country. But she didn’t have a job, or even any pets. There’d been no reason for her not to go, aside from the fact that it was a little crazy. Or a lot crazy, depending on your perspective and how much you loved rock stars, especially uber rock stars like Tyler Cook and Rob Burns of Trouble, who drew hundreds of thousands of fans at a time to their concerts in every city they visited.
If you were a Trouble fan, you probably thought I was the crazy one, not Katie. Because what fan would miss an opportunity like that?
Me. I was too practical for my own good. I had a job, a house, a life. I had roots and they went deep. I wasn’t easily transplantable.
Besides, while I’d finally decided to board this train, I still wasn’t quite sure where I might end up. I was clinging desperately to both, hedging my bets. I had a job and life, and I needed to hang onto those for as long as I could. The practical part of me always won that argument. How could I raise a baby without a job? I knew what Rob would say—he kept saying it.
I’ll take care of you. Let me take care of you.
But what happened if he wasn’t around?
I didn’t to think about that, of course—and he didn’t want me to think about it either. When I implied that was the reason I needed to return to work, he got quietly angry, jaw working, eyes blazing fire, so I didn’t mention it again. There were plenty of other reasons, of course. My employer and all my students were relying on me. That was reason enough.
“I can’t do this again.” Rob sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “I can’t let you go.”