by Angel Payne
I’m open and ready for him again—only this time, I refuse to passively accept his desire. He’s worth so much more. I’m determined to make sure he gets it.
I delve my tongue inside his mouth, savoring every drop of his whisky and sweat deliciousness. I suck him back into mine, delighting in his stunned grunt of reaction. I mercilessly twine my tongue against his, bringing along every essence of our breaths and lusts and desire, until suddenly he’s the one breaking off with a growling moan.
But only long enough to make sure I hear his nerve-igniting growl.
“I’m with you, baby. All the way. Giving it all to you. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
“And I’ll take you.” I almost lose the lock on my control, but forming the words helps me hold back the heat a little while longer. A little while. “All of you, Reece. Yes. Yesssss.”
“All of my cock.” His face becomes granite again. His voice is carved in matching hardness. “Say it, Emmalina.”
“All…all of your…cock.” Okay, that one’s tougher. Much tougher. Good freaking God, how this man knows exactly how I like to be taken. Torn apart. Cracked open. Mashed from the inside out, until I’m raw and exposed and blinking at bright gold outlines around every living thing I see. Especially him.
Oh, especially him.
“And all of the come in that cock.”
My brilliant, haloed angel…with a mouth of such nasty devilish intent.
I really am the luckiest girl on the planet.
“All…all of the…” But I gasp out my own interruption. “Oh, God!” He’s pounding again, so hard and deep and perfect. He’s locked me in his stare, blazing with lust and lightning. He’s not going to stop. He’s not giving me any mercy. Not this time. Thank freaking God.
“Say it, Bunny.” His dictate is as merciless as his tough, erotic thrusts. “Form your pretty mouth around that sweet filth.” He rams his mouth against the base of my neck. “Take every syllable into your mind and soul, just like you’re taking me in your gorgeous little cunt.”
His words, debased but desperate, are the perfect key in the lock of my self-control. “All of the come,” I surrender with matching urgency. “I need all of the come in your cock, Reece.”
At once, his drives grow fiercer. His face does too. Commanding me but surrendering to me. Lighting me with his storm but drenching me in his rain. Demanding to screw me but needing to love me. “Dear fuck,” he spits. “Dear…fuck.”
And just like that, I am his bold, naughty bunny. “All of it,” I issue, clearly challenging this time. “Every glowing, hot drop.”
The amber light around his head thickens. It’s contrasted stunningly by his dark, messy waves. “You’re going to rip me apart.”
I flash him half a smile. “Then that’ll make two of us.”
He releases the swing. Seizes his hold on my waist instead. “Together.”
“Together.”
“I’m ready. Fuck. Emma!”
I frantically lick my lips. Already, I can feel the telling thumps in his balls. And then the mighty surge up his shaft. Still, he pumps into me with a wild, electric, superhuman pace. “Give it to me. I’m ready too. I’m…I’m…”
I’m not capable of words anymore is what I am. A scream forms in my throat, claimed at once by Reece’s ruthless lips. He groans in erotic glory, giving back every shred of the energy I’ve erupted at him, until he suddenly stills…
And then explodes.
He floods me with so much heat and light and energy, I have no choice about letting my orgasm break in. And break me down. And splinter me apart. And shatter me whole. But in the same incredible collection of seconds, I’m also put back together again—at least enough to acknowledge the fireworks along my skin, the sunbeams through my blood, and the frantic, fiery flutters invading every inch of my thrumming, glowing womb. Okay, so I have to accept that last part in good faith from all my senses in that resplendent space. That’s sure as hell what they’re telling me everything feels like…
I’m drenched in gold.
Awash in light.
But most of all, I’m filled to the brim of my existence with love.
Apparently, when a girl is carrying a superhero baby with sun and lightning in his DNA, being filled with love gets followed real fast by being filled with exhaustion.
Especially if her half-naked hunk of a husband has just screwed her into orgasmic oblivion, only to roll over, keeping her sex fully locked around his even in a freaking hammock swing.
That’s just the start of the man’s postcoital amazingness.
I sigh in bliss as Reece wiggles a little, noisily digging his toes into the grass, gaining purchase so he can push the swing in a gentle back-and-forth. My sigh becomes an elated moan as he matches the tempo with rhythmic scrapes along the length of my spine. But I let myself fade into silence as sounds vibrate out from him. It’s music, flowing from the center of his chest and all the way through the amber glow of my being.
The tune?
“Electric Love.”
Like I said…amazingness.
I smile into the expanse of his chest. Let myself melt a little more, absorbing the sounds that mingle with his rumbly serenade. The swing’s ropes creaking against the tree’s bough. The coastal wind rustling through the garden. The mighty crashes and tidal swooshes of the nearby sea.
The beat of my man’s heart, so close and tight with mine.
As it should be.
As it needs to be.
I breathe in his masculine musk, mixing with the leather and spice of his intoxicating scent, while letting myself be lulled by the gentle rocking of our bodies. As every minute passes, sleep is harder and harder to fight—and I finally don’t. I’m carried along through subconsciousness by the strains of Reece’s song, with his melodic promises of lightning in bottles and drowning rain, until the notes swell around me like Pacific waves. Hypnotizing me. Transporting me. Music that becomes a stretch of dream-borne satin covered in stars.
But then the slick dream fabric folds up around me, caressing my naked skin. It billows around me like a red-carpet ball gown, only it’s not.
What’s going on?
Reality starts to return.
Sheets.
The softness of my dream was emulating bed sheets. More specifically, the linens of the big bed in Newport where Reece and I have been sleeping together for three days. But only sleeping. That’s been on me—or the person who hasn’t really been me—since we got here. And maybe attempting to shut me down was simple survival on my part. In a matter of days, an alien took over my belly, the nineties took over my wardrobe, a redhead took over my own reflection, and I relocated from the ridge in our heavenly canyon to a vague semblance of hell on earth.
So yeah, I’d cashed out. Sealed myself off as solidly as possible without physically leaving—because I was hurting, not stupid. Just because I hate having to come here doesn’t mean the necessity has eluded me. The dangers we face, and the woman responsible for them, are still very real.
So, yeah. Hell it is.
Though at the moment, hell couldn’t feel farther away.
As a matter of fact, I’m inching closer to heaven.
Not a difficult stretch of possibility as I look down to where my husband’s dark head stirs against the rise of my belly. As usual, Bean responds to his dad’s proximity with a few steady kicks, but I focus on breathing as shallowly as possible. The last few days have been as trying on Reece as me, probably more so, and he also went through the effort of carrying me all the way out of the garden and then up a dark flight of stairs. Or at least I think so. I’m so warm now. So safe. So willing to let him be in the lead…for a few minutes, at least. Most importantly, it’s good that my astounding, steadfast hero is finally and fully resting.
“Dude. You’ve got to chill with the kicks. You want to wake your mom before I get to the good stuff?”
Or…not.
I press my lips together to keep myself from giggling at my h
usband’s conspiratorial whisper. Oh, God forbid the boys wake Mom up. Besides, I have a distinct feeling I’ll hear juicier stuff if I feign the snoozing. I even shut my eyes, making everything look authentic, as Reece rubs a calming hand across the tiny bump where his son still persists in pressing a foot.
“So like I was saying, you get more flies with honey, okay? Share the puff bites with the girls first, and you’ll get twice as many in return the next day. Same goes with the initial hook. You’re not going to get anywhere by saying her Wonder Woman lunch pail is cool. You’ve got to tell her she’s cool. She may deck you at first, but she’ll come around. No risk, no reward, son. I’m going to hold you to repeating that for me once you’re out here on our side of the world.”
He pauses then, rubbing lightly across the swell and then kissing Bean’s persistent foot, which gives my composure just enough time to catch up with my swelling heart before he goes on.
“Speaking of that shit—well shit, I just said—oh, fuck—all right, so that’s going to be our secret, okay? What your mom doesn’t know saves my mouth from having to chug a melted bar of soap. As long as we’re on that subject, we’ve got to discuss your nursery décor. This is code critical, son. Your mom has dog-eared some pages in the catalogues. I have to pretend this shit isn’t important, but you cannot let her pick anything with cartoons or Doctor Who. Buddy, I’m as much a Whovian as the next guy, and I’ll watch it with you all day long, but we’re talking about the place you’re going to sleep, man.”
My brows knit before I can stop them. I bent the page for the Who theme especially for Reece and thought we’d have to toss a coin on the whole matter. It’s good I know about the cartoons, though. Sheez, who doesn’t love The Incredibles?
“All right, that’s the preliminary stuff. I’ll probably think of more later. But there’s just one more thing I’ve got to let you know about here. This is the really important stuff, so listen up.”
With practically held breath, I do the same. He’s half an octave shy of secret-agent-man intense. This isn’t going to be pointers on tying a perfect Windsor or staying away from the green baby-food flavors. Oh, hell…
“I’ve got to ask you to take it easy on your mom, Bean. I mean, you are you, so I get it. She makes you happy. Shit, she lights me up like the Super Bowl when she simply walks into a room. But hear me now and hear me true: if you know nothing else about your spectacular goddess of a mother, it’s that she’s in charge, buddy. That’s another one you’ll be repeating a lot once you’re out here in the big bright world.”
He twists his head again, feathering a kiss across my stretched skin that causes me to shiver before I can help it. Exactly like the tears that prick, surge, and well over, trailing harder down my cheeks as he rolls his head the other way, bringing his sights into line with mine.
Without deterring that breathtaking azure regard, he finally murmurs, with a grate as intent as it is emotional, “And my Bean…my boy…your mama and I can’t wait until you’re really and truly out here.”
I drag in a graceless sniff. Dive a hand into my husband’s unruly waves, ensuring his stare stays put as I answer in a hoarse whisper. “In the big, bright world.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up with that mix of roguish power and worshipful need that never fails to flip my senses inside out and vanquish every drop of my heart in fierce desire for this man. “Where Mom’s always in charge.”
I let a watery laugh slip out. “As long as we’re all together.” And then form my other hand over his, twining our fingers atop the place where Bean clamors to join the Team Bolt high-five, as well.
“Kicking ass, taking names.” Reece’s smirk is a broad ribbon of cocky white, bursting my libido and billowing my soul until I’m gazing at him through a haze of tears again—but I don’t freaking care. We’re here together, ready to take on anything together, because we have the greatest power in the world on our side. Love has bound us together, carried us through, and created our beautiful light of a child—even if he does seem determined to crack a few of my ribs before he’s done incubating.
And that’s all right too.
After I get done with a soft “oof,” I turn a wry grin up at my husband. “I think your son’s already gotten the ‘kicking ass’ memo, Mr. Richards.”
Reece chuckles. “Would you have it any other way, Mrs. Richards?”
I tighten my hold on him, coaxing his face toward mine for a long, deep kiss he’s definitely going to remember. “Not for every lightning bolt in the sky.”
Because I’ve got the only bolt that matters…right here.
Continue the Bolt Saga
with
Coming April 30, 2019
Enjoy Bolt Saga: Volume Five?
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Also by Angel Payne
The Bolt Saga:
Continue Reading with Light (April 30, 2019)
More Information on The Bolt Saga
* * *
Secrets of Stone Series:
(with Victoria Blue)
No Prince Charming
No More Masquerade
No Perfect Princess
No Magic Moment
No Lucky Number
No Simple Sacrifice
No Broken Bond
No White Knight
No Longer Lost
* * *
Honor Bound:
Saved
Cuffed
Seduced
Wild
Wet
Hot
Masked
Mastered
Conquered
Ruled
* * *
Cimarron Series:
Into His Dark
Into His Command
Into Her Fantasies
* * *
Temptation Court:
Naughty Little Gift
Pretty Perfect Toy
Bold Beautiful Love
* * *
Suited for Sin:
Sing
Sigh
Submit
* * *
Lords of Sin:
Trade Winds
Promised Touch
Redemption
A Fire in Heaven
Surrender to the Dawn
* * *
For a full list of Angel’s other titles,
visit her at
AngelPayne.com
Acknowledgments
Wow! What a journey! What a lightning ride! And it’s been so much more thrilling because of the love and support of so many. Thank you to all!
Scott Saunders and Jeanne De Vita, you are the most amazing editing team on the planet. I’d be rocking myself to sleep in a padded room without the two of you there, letting me know that all the weirdness is great—but importantly, helping to make it better. THANK YOU!
Meredith Wild, Jon McInerney, and absolutely everyone on the Waterhouse Press team: Bolt is possible because of you. Thank you for caring about my superhero “baby” as much as I do and for not giving up on this dream. Jesse Kench, Haley Byrd, Jennifer Becker, Yvonne Ellis, Kurt Vachon, Amber Maxwell—I am blown away, on a daily basis, by your dedication, heart, positivity, and support. Thank you for being the wind beneath Bolt’s electric wings.
Extra special thanks to the marketing goddesses who continue in your superhero strength to spread the Bolt-alicious love throughout the world! Robyn Lee and Wendy Shatwell, I have no words for how much I adore you both.
Every single incredible member of the Payne Passion crew: thank you for all the love and encouragement you lend me on a daily basis. You are my lights!
Martha Frantz: you keep all the gears turning, and sometimes I have no idea how. You’re amazing and such a blessing to me. Thank you!
Victoria Blue: you have made me a better writer and a better person. I love you more than words can encompass.
Special shout-out to the real Corinne: Corinne Akers, your nonstop and diehard love for Bolt has meant the world. I hope to be knocking over more d
isplays to hug you again soon!
All the geeks and freaks and “different ones”: as always, and more than ever, this Bolt is for YOU. As I’ve met you at all the Cons—romance as well as pop/comic culture—it’s been a blessing to hear your stories and share your joy in celebrating your differences and living out loud with your quirks. Here’s to accepting our differences and taking pride in our truths. I love you all. Be real. Be kind. Embrace love. Do you, in every bright and beautiful sense.
About Angel Payne
USA Today bestselling romance author Angel Payne loves to focus on high-heat romance starring memorable alpha men and the women who love them. She has numerous book series to her credit, including the action-packed Bolt Saga and Honor Bound series, Secrets of Stone series (with Victoria Blue), the intertwined Cimarron and Temptation Court series, the Suited for Sin series, and the Lords of Sin historicals, as well as several standalone titles.
Angel is a native Southern Californian, leading to her love of being in the outdoors, where she often reads and writes. She still lives in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and beautiful daughter, to whom she is a proud cosplay/culture con mom. Her passions also include whisky tasting, shoe shopping, and travel.
For more information, please follow Angel Payne at:
AngelPayne.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Part 13 Prologue