by Kasey Krane
She reached for me, pushing my shirt up to feel my abs. I took down my pants, then crawled up between her legs.
She spread her legs wide open while I hooked a finger on the strip of her panties. I pushed it to the side so I could taste her. Rosalie moaned and rolled her hips while my mouth took possession of her tight tasty pussy.
She wrapped her long slender legs around my neck while I stroked and massaged her with my mouth.
“Yes. Yes. Yes!” she whispered, apparently trying to control the rising rush in her voice.
She thrusted her hips up, pushing her pussy harder into my face. I grabbed her chunky thighs, digging my thumbs into her flawless skin. I pushed her back on the bed, pinning her down with one hand while I flicked her clit with my tongue.
I’d give her as much time as she needed to come. I just wanted to make her feel good. I just wanted to make her feel safe with me.
I tasted and sucked her for a while longer until she cried out my name and her cream squirted straight into my mouth. I tasted her on my lips and kept licking her damp swollen pussy folds.
When I straightened up, Rosalie’s eyes were heavy and dark. She was breathing hard with her mouth open, trying to catch her breath.
“Show me your tits,” I commanded. It came out like a roar.
She moved quickly, eager to please me, unhooking her bra and throwing it to the floor. Her big juicy tits were now in my view. She had thick rosy nipples that stuck out with desire, firm and proud.
I bent over her, squeezing one nipple between my fingers while taking the other one in my mouth and sucking.
“Brendan…” she said my name like she was begging for something, pushing herself up into me again.
I fell down on her with all my weight, covering her with my body while I sucked and licked her nipples, caressing the rest of her milky smooth skin.
She moved underneath me, wrapping her legs and arms around me so she could be as close to me as possible.
That was what I wanted too.
To be stuck to her.
“Brendan, please…” she whispered. I pulled away from her tits to look at her again.
“Tell me what you want, Rosalie.”
“I want your cock inside me. Just fill me, please,” she begged.
Finally, we were on the same page.
Twenty-One
Rosalie
Brendan had me pinned down to the bed underneath him. It was exactly where I wanted to be. Where I needed to be. And he felt so good on top of me. I loved feeling the weight and strength of him. Watching the way his muscles moved and tightened as he used my body for his pleasure.
He straightened up, planting his knees on either side of me. My legs dangled off the edge of the bed. His cock was right there between his muscular thighs. Big and hard. He stroked himself and I reached for my pussy too.
I was so wet for him.
With one quick move, before I knew what he was about to do, Brendan pulled my panties off.
He guided his cock to my pussy and stroked me with it. Up and down he slid, his tip entered me, but only for a second. I hated and loved how he teased me. My body was on fire. I just wanted to scream. I’d already forgone all my ego, begging him to put his cock inside me.
Brendan moved slowly at first, teasing me with his cock rubbing my pussy. He looked up, hooking his deep green gaze on me as he pushed into me fully.
It felt so good, I moaned loud. We both looked down to watch the way his cock thrusted inside me. Watching it happen made it even sexier. He was fucking me. Hard. His cock went all the way in, stroking those pulsating walls of my pussy that needed to feel his full length.
He held my thighs apart so he could plow me the way he wanted to. There was no holding him back anymore.
We moaned together, moved together, came together. He stretched out over me when he exploded inside. I could feel his seed sowing deep. Once again.
I felt a wave of panic rise up. What if he got me pregnant again?
Would that be such a bad thing?
Did I secretly want another Doherty baby? Was that why I refused to stop sleeping with him, even though I knew it was wrong?
I didn’t want to think about those things—all the wrong decisions I made.
I just wanted to focus on how good it felt to have Brendan inside me, to feel him lose all control. A man like him. I reduced him to rubble.
He didn’t pull out of me for a while, but just stretched out over me, pressing me down with the full strength of his big body.
I shouldn’t have been hugging him either. It was too dangerous.
The last thing I needed was to catch feelings for the father of my baby who I wanted out of my life.
He looked into my eyes, forcing me to look back at him.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked.
I had to smile. I did actually feel better. I hadn’t thought about the creepy stalker this whole time.
So just like the previous night, when I had laid in bed next to Brendan after he ravished my body—I was doing it again.
My confusions and contradictory thoughts had still not left me.
I didn’t know what to do.
He made me feel safe, he made me feel good…he made Davey happy. So was Mom right in saying that I needed to give him a chance? That I needed to test the waters and see if he would sink or swim in a family setting?
But I didn’t want to play with Davey.
If I involved Brendan in our lives—if he even wanted to be involved in it—then I would be involving Davey too.
I looked over at Brendan while he stared at the ceiling. I could sense there was something on his mind. I rolled over and rested my head on his wide chest, breathing in that familiar sexy scent of him.
“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking?” I asked coyly.
It sounded silly to my ears. Wasn’t that something a girl asked when she was suspicious or desperate for a guy’s attention?
But I genuinely wanted to know what was on his mind.
He planted a kiss on my head and gently stroked my bare arms.
“I need to find the asshole and make sure he knows he can’t come near you or Davey,” Brendan said.
What?
He was thinking about my stalker?
Just when I’d managed to forget about him by pushing him to the back of my head.
“Let’s not talk about him right now,” I said.
“I need to keep you safe,” he said in a hollow voice.
Brendan had stopped stroking my arm. In fact, it seemed like he was lying completely still next to me. Like he may even have forgotten I was there beside him.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure I overreacted. He was just some loony…this sort of thing happens in New York all the time, right?” I said.
Suddenly, it felt like our roles had reversed. I was the one trying to console Brendan. He had a crazed look in his eyes. His thoughts were far away.
Slowly, he shook his head.
“It’s not going to happen again. I have to keep you safe,” he said.
“Again? Brendan, what are you talking about?” I jerked away from him, sitting up in the bed.
He stared at the ceiling, still shaking his head.
“I have to come up with a plan to keep Davey safe.”
“Brendan!” I shouted, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.
Finally, it worked. He looked at me with his jaws clenched tightly. Angrily.
“What are you talking about? Will you tell me?” I asked.
There was something he struggled with. I reached for his hand, weaving my fingers with his. “You can tell me, Brendan,” I said.
He took his time to come clean about what he was hiding.
Maybe he wasn’t exactly hiding it from me. It seemed like this was something he just never spoke about with anybody.
“My mother died when we were kids. I have five brothers, we were all kids when this happened. She was murdered,�
� he said.
I gasped before I could stop myself. My hands rose up to my mouth in shock and horror. This wasn’t something anybody had told me about the Dohertys. Had Petra known?
He glanced at me and shook his head.
“Yeah, that happened,” he said bitterly.
I reached for his arm, stroking him gently.
“Brendan, I’m so sorry. That couldn’t have been easy.”
Was that why he was so worried about keeping me safe? Because he felt like he hadn’t been able to protect his mother from being murdered?
“Anyway, that fucked me up in a whole different way. We could talk all night about it. But something else happened a year later…something I was responsible for.”
I couldn’t say anything. I just waited for him to continue with his story. I was curious and at the same time, I felt sorry for him. It was pretty obvious that he had suffered a deep emotional wound.
“Our family was catapulted into a war with the people who were responsible for the murder of my mother. It was related to…our family’s business.”
My brows furrowed. So the rumors were true? His family was involved in business that was on the wrong side of the law?
Brendan’s face had turned stony and dark. Like he was doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He just wanted to go on with the story.
“While the rest of my family was involved in avenging her death, I was made responsible for making sure my brothers were safe. My younger brothers, Tristian and Nolan. They were very young. Too young to understand what was going on.”
I listened with rapt attention, and had no idea what he was going to say next. Everything Brendan spoke about sounded like it belonged to a completely different world from mine.
“But I hadn’t been able to keep them safe. Tristian was kidnapped. By the same people who killed our mother.”
I gasped again.
And hated myself for it.
My reaction to the story only made it worse for Brendan. Clearly, he blamed himself enough for it already.
“They found him a day later, my father made sure nobody would get away with kidnapping one of his sons. Tristian doesn’t even seem to remember it. At least he doesn’t admit it to me. He was unharmed and brought back safe, but I have never been able to forgive myself for letting it happen.” Brendan rambled on. There was a dangerous fire in his eyes and it was clear to me that his thoughts were all over the place.
I needed to snap him out of it.
“How old were you when this happened?” I asked.
“Twelve,” he replied, looking up at me.
“So you were a kid yourself, Brendan. It was not your fault.”
It didn’t seem like Brendan believed me when I said it wasn’t his fault. He glared at me like he thought I was lying. I could see he had spent years beating himself up about it.
“I’m sure you don’t want to discuss the details of the incident with me…” I said.
“I don’t.”
“But…I’m sure there was very little you could have done to stop your brother from being kidnapped, as a twelve year old yourself.”
He sat up in my bed with his face hardened and tough.
“I should have kept him safe, like I was supposed to.”
“I’m sorry it happened to you and your family, but you can’t keep blaming yourself for it,” I tried.
He breathed in deeply and I inched closer to him.
“You are a strong man. You are a man nobody would ever mess with. I feel safe with you, Brendan. Don’t you see that?” I whispered.
He reached for my waist and pulled me closer to him with a grunt.
“But the difference is that you’re a man now. You are an adult man who can take care of himself and the people around him. You were a kid back then. There was no way you could have protected your brother from stronger adult men. What happened was not your fault, and your brother came back safe.”
“I don’t think I know how to look after kids. I don’t think I can look after kids,” he continued, but this time his voice wavered. It was broken.
My heart was breaking too.
Now I was even more sure that I couldn’t tell him about Davey. There was no telling how Brendan would react if he found out he had a son. That he would be responsible for a kid…as a parent.
I didn’t think he would be able to handle that kind of pressure. I didn’t think he would want to.
“You’ve almost convinced me,” he said, leaning towards me.
I fell back softly in the bed and he covered me with his body, kissing my neck, making his way down to my belly, then my legs.
I closed my eyes, trying not to lose myself in the sensations of pleasure he sent shooting up and down my body.
I wasn’t lying when I said I felt safe with him. I did.
He had no idea how happy I was to see him tonight after what happened. Even Davey was happy. Even Davey felt safe with him.
But there was no way I could tell him he was a father.
Brendan thrusted his cock into me again, spreading my legs apart and sinking himself into me inch by inch.
Even though I was wet for him, craving for that moment of sweet release he would bring me to, I couldn’t stop being sad about how beautiful it would be if we could always be together like this.
Twenty-Two
Brendan
I couldn’t sleep well that night, waking up often, turning and stirring. I kept recalling the day Tristian got kidnapped, the twenty-four hours we had spent in complete panic until we were able to bring him back home. I felt sick to my stomach the whole time. Unprepared to lose my brother and my mother in the same year.
When I woke up the next morning, it was still fairly dark outside. Rosalie was asleep beside me, and I touched her face lightly.
She had tried very hard the previous night to convince me it wasn’t my fault. Just like Tristian tried over the years.
But the only way I would feel any better was by going out and checking the streets and neighborhood myself. Making sure that Rosalie and Davey weren’t being watched and stalked by the bastard still.
I got dressed and left the apartment. I planned on surveying the neighborhood and then coming back. I wanted to be there when Davey woke up. I wanted to have breakfast with them.
But before I left the apartment, I stopped by Davey’s room. I just wanted to check on him and make sure he was sleeping fine.
A dim morning light filtered through the curtains of his room. He was sleeping peacefully in bed, surrounded by all his favorite toys that I’d tucked into bed with him the previous night. It was still a strange concept to me—that I had somehow managed to make him feel safe. That he was happy to see me. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.
I couldn’t tear myself away from him. I found myself frozen to the spot, watching him as he slept. There was something about him that looked familiar. At first I thought I was just imagining things, and then I couldn’t rid myself of the idea that I knew this kid.
Not just that I’d met him a few days ago and had developed a fondness for him. This wasn’t even about Rosalie. She wasn’t on my mind in those moments while my brain buzzed.
How did I know this kid? What was so familiar about him?
He had light brown hair and pink cheeks that were covered in a light dusting of freckles. His eyes were closed while he slept, but now when I thought about it—it seemed like I knew those eyes well. They were green and intense. Just like the Doherty’s.
Most of us in the family had the same green eyes. Most of us had freckles when we were kids, but they disappeared slowly as we grew up.
And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I now knew exactly who Davey looked like while he slept.
He looked like me.
I had to sit down when the realization hit me.
I grabbed the chair that was close to the bed and sat down with a thump.
Davey stirred in his sleep and that made me want to leave. Now t
hat I knew the truth, I didn’t want him waking up and finding me there. I didn’t know what I would say to him. How I would react.
It had to be true.
Davey was my son.
Rosalie hadn’t been very clear on exactly how old Davey was. She said he was three and we met at the party four years ago. The math added up.
And she had to have known it was me. That I was the father.
That was why she kept running away, kept pushing me when we met again. She didn’t want me getting close to her son. Our son. She didn’t want me finding out. And why?
Had she already decided I was an unsuitable father?
She knew I couldn’t be one. I couldn’t be a good one.
In the past four years since she found out she was going to give birth to my child—she hadn’t once made an attempt to find me. She had planned on keeping my identity a secret from Davey his whole life. My whole life.
I jumped off the chair with rage.
I was going to storm back into Rosalie’s bedroom and shake her awake. I’d confront her with the truth, force her to tell me exactly why she kept this a secret all these years.
My hands were clenched in fists. I was breathing hard. I could feel the frustration rising up my neck. I stared at Davey still sleeping peacefully in his bed, and all of a sudden, all that anger seemed to fade away.
What would I achieve by confronting Rosalie now?
There was nothing she could tell me that would convince me otherwise. Davey was my son. He was a Doherty. It was a fact.
And I had no idea how to be a father.
I backed away from the bed slowly, almost like there was some kind of invisible G-force surrounding Davey that pushed me backwards. I couldn’t be near him. The idea that I had a son. A living, breathing, talking, laughing child who had my genes inside him was crazy.
Wasn’t my life simpler the way it was before I met Rosalie and Davey?
I didn’t have any liabilities. I didn’t have responsibilities. I had carefully constructed my life to be one without children. What was the point of changing that now?