Continuum (The South Beach Connection Trilogy Book 3)

by A. R. Hadley

  Where was her strength?

  Her mind was muddled, and her eyes were spellbound, focused on the way the beads glistened in the moonlight, the way they complemented Cal's shirt, and the way they looked as she turned the bracelet round and round and round.

  Cal watched her fingers spin the jewelry. He knew what it meant. He knew Annie. He’d always known her.

  Placing his hand over her wrist, he stopped her mindless twirling.

  She met his eyes quickly and briefly, and then she abruptly burst into tears and put her face against his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand and her open back with the other, his eyes open wide at the darkness in front of him. The pain in Annie's heart. The death of his mother. Her brother.

  Would it ever stop?

  Her crying slowed. She tilted her face toward him. He pushed her hair back and gazed into her eyes.

  “Oh, Annie,” he said, exhaling. “Your love will never die. Your love lasts forever. Let it fill you up. Let Peter’s love fill you. Don't fight it.”

  As she dropped her head against him, her tears wet his shirt. The vigor she’d felt earlier with her father at the bottom of the staircase was absent. She desired Cal to lift her up, worn out from being the pillar Albert always needed. She was worn of the sadness of Peter’s death.

  “I didn't want to feel any pain tonight. Not tonight."

  “I know.” His eyes consoled her. His thumb stroked her cheek. “I didn’t want to either. This night is special even with the pain. I miss my mother too."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "This night will always be ours, baby. Nothing can take that away."

  “Nothing?” She jerked her face from his and winced. “Do you know what people said to me the most after he died — right after he died? They said it to you too. How can you forget?" Shaking her head in disgust, in disbelief, she looked at Cal again, aching in the places she always ached — deep in her gut. “They said, ‘I’m so sorry, dear. It was just his time. It was his time to go.’”

  Annie looked sharply at Cal, ready to snap. “It wasn’t his time! He was only thirty-six. It wasn’t his time. He was supposed to be here, Cal. He was supposed to be alive!”

  Wiggling with a divine stubbornness, Annie tried to remove herself from the grasp Cal had around her body, but he would not free her. He held her still. Steady. He was the strength she’d always needed.

  “He was supposed to be here, and he is. Not in the way you want. I know."

  "You think your mom is here?"

  "I hear her goddam voice in my head. That's for sure."

  "Maybe you're just crazy."

  "Peter’s here, Annie. You know it.”

  Although Annie had spoken those same words to her father before the start of the ceremony — the same words she always spoke to him — she knew they’d been lies … a protection.

  She didn’t really believe them. Maybe she had never really believed them.

  Cal had uttered them so seriously, so full of an assurance — in his voice and with his stance — Annie almost believed him. She wanted to, but nothing could ever take the place of Peter — his love at her heart, her throat, and always in her thoughts. It wouldn’t bring him back. If she allowed her brother's voice and love to fill her up, she might break.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. That same bullshit answer I’ve heard over and over. I’ve had to listen to it come out of my own mouth for a fucking year. God, for almost two years now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t say it anymore. He’s not here. There’s no reason. There’s nothing.”

  Annie looked away from Cal, all the adrenaline draining from her. “I’m cold.” She began to quiver.

  Cal trailed his hands up and down her arms, then he grabbed her biceps and looked her square in the eye.

  “He must’ve loved you like there was no tomorrow,” Cal said, touching her face. “You were probably the last thing on his mind, the last thing on this earth he could take with him before he died.”

  Annie tilted her head down and released all her tears. The anger flowed with them, behind them, going away from her spirit in trenches.

  Cal pulled her into him, hugging her as though she were a delicate piece of fine china — ornate, beautiful, and strong. He didn’t want her to break. He wanted her whole.

  Cal was now choked up watching and holding her, and his throat was tight. He didn’t wallow in the sadness, though. He didn’t have that luxury. He bucked up for them both. His confidence was enough. It was a fortitude. He would risk making Annie laugh with his next words. He hoped he would anyway.

  “What do you think your brother would’ve thought about his little sister falling in love with a man like me?”

  Annie sniffled, dragged a finger under her nose, and looked at the trees. She paused. Her sadness turned to a curious contemplation. A sly smile stretched across her face. A genuine one. Her certainty and joy were slowly pouring back into her body like refreshing, ice-cold lemonade hitting the palate on a blistering day.

  As she rolled her puffy, pink-rimmed eyes at Cal, he smiled wide at her expression, his dimples showing in the night.

  “At first,” Annie said in a burst, remembering Peter’s fierce loyalty. “Oh, God! At first, he would’ve wanted to kill you. He would’ve come around, though.” Annie pinched at the fibers on Cal’s shirt from top to bottom, smiling. "Eventually."

  Cal wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “He would’ve come around … once he knew you really loved me.”

  “I do really love you.”

  “I know." Annie entreated him with the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes … the way she had earlier on the porch.

  “He would’ve approved,” she said. “Of this night, of us, the baby.”

  Pride welled up within her, and with or without her protruding belly, she resembled a puffed-up frog who might burst.

  “Annie, you are—”

  “Shhh.” She put a hand over Cal’s lips. “I'm your wife! That's what I am, damn it.” Annie began to run her index finger around the edge of Cal’s lips.

  “You’re so much more," he whispered.

  “I want you. I want all of you,” she said abruptly, as if he didn’t know, as if it were the first time she’d expressed the thought, and as if it was a point desperately needing to be heard.

  As full as she was of Cal, she couldn't get enough of him — his quiet contemplations, his all-encompassing strength, his bridled control, his love. His loyalty.

  “I know.” Cal was adorably and intentionally being conceited.

  As Annie nudged his shoulder with her palm, Cal grinned.

  “You have all of me … forever,” he said, his damn throat swelling again.

  “Kiss me before I explode, Prescott. I may actually spontaneously combust right here, you know?”

  Cal laughed at Annie's silliness. He thought her body had never been sexier. She was simply radiant. Leaning his forehead against hers, he gently rocked her entire wonderful, amazing, pregnant torso. Then he cupped her neck, slid his fingers through her hair, and kissed his wife.

  He kissed Mrs. Prescott.

  He kissed her — softly, wholly, full of love.

  Each movement of their mouths and swiftness of their tongues was alive, full, and galvanizing.

  "We're ready now," Cal said into the limo’s intercom. They both were seated, doors closed.

  "Very good, sir," the driver replied.

  "Sir..." Annie rolled her eyes

  Cal smirked and lifted her onto his lap.

  She straddled him and brushed invisible somethings off his shirt near his chest. "Not. So. Fast. Sir."

  "Have you changed your mind again, my dear wife?"

  "No." She giggled. "I like the sound of that. Wife."

  "I love you. Wife." Cal wet her ear, and Annie squirmed as he began to undo his belt.

  "Don't," she said, hands on his wrists, eyes bold as night. "I want to tease you tonight, sir."

  Annie tilted her
head to the side, finishing the job he’d started. After undoing his buckle and button and sliding his zipper down, she pulled back his pants and watched as his hard-as-fuck cock sprung up and out.

  Her eyes lit up like a stick of dynamite.

  She wrapped her palm around his shaft, leaned close to his ear, and whispered, "Have you been good? Did you have needs while I was away these last two weeks?" She began to slide her hand up and down his length. "Did your hand meet them for you?"

  "My hand”—he cleared his throat—"could never meet the needs you satisfy."

  Annie tossed her head back and laughed. "Good answer."

  "What about you?" He gripped her waist, holding her in place. "Did you—?"

  "I was busy planning our wedding." Teasing him, she continued to wield a special kind of magic with her palm, gliding up and down slowly, painfully slowly, drawing him out.

  "God, Annie. I've missed you," he hissed.

  "Where are we going?" she moaned, increasing the pressure and velocity around his stiff cock. "How much time do we have?"

  Clutching her wrist, he stopped her stroking, already feeling a reckless need to come. "Wait,” he said, and Annie met his eyes. "I want to wait … for the bed."

  "Where are we going?" Her words slithered into his ear. "How long is the ride?" She bucked her hips against his torso.

  "You know it's a surprise."

  Clutching him tighter, she took him again: up, down, faster, slicking him with precum. "When will we arrive?"

  He moaned, looked up, then arched his back and released his breath toward the ceiling. "Fuck, Annie." He sounded like he couldn't breathe. "Forty-five minutes."

  "Well, it may seem longer." She spoke like a seductress as she slowed the pace again, pecked the side of his face, and smiled.

  He gripped her hips — this time much harder. "I don't want a fucking mess all over the back of the car."

  Annie let go of him and took hold of his arms. "I'll make sure you come inside me. But you can't touch me.” She pushed him away at his biceps. “Put your arms away."

  Cal grinned and laughed.

  "I'm serious, Prescott. No touching."

  He placed his palms on the seat and opened his eyes wide. "This I have to see."

  "Stop it. I can manage."

  "What are you up to?"

  "This is my wedding gift to you … tonight. I've been thinking about it for two weeks."

  "You’re my gift, Annie." Cal reached up, unable to help himself, and touched her cheek.

  "Yes, and tonight, I'm fucking you. So, keep your hands away, sir." She swatted his arm away. "Very good, sir."

  "If you keep calling me that, I'll have to take you over my knee and spank the fuck out of you."

  "Oh, you will?" Annie arched an eyebrow as she gathered her dress, lifted her hips, and positioned her sex over his erection. However, she only allowed his length to slide over her wet crease, forbidding his needy cock entrance into her increasingly needy body.

  After unbuttoning his shirt, she spread it open and traced her fingers in figure eights over his bare chest as she writhed over him. The moisture from her body wet him, making it easier and easier to glide across his girth.

  His chest rose. He closed his eyes. His knuckles turned white against the black leather seat.

  "Fuck me now, baby," Cal ground the words through his teeth.

  "I thought you wanted to wait for the bed."

  "This is all I've wanted for two weeks. You. To be near you. Inside of you."

  "Not yet," she whispered.

  Grabbing his hair, she pulled and combed her fingers through it. She kissed his neck, left and right and under his chin, all while riding the tip of his cock like a stallion — still denying him entry, though. Even without actual penetration, it was enough to make her forget.

  She let go of the pawn, the queen, the king, the knight. And she forgot.

  Forgetting the backseat of the limo, forgetting the seven-month ache in her pelvis, the jutting belly, the shadow of death flying overhead, forgetting and forgetting to the point of being unsure if she could continue to play Cal at his own game.

  Fuck. He was always better at it. He had the self-control. What did she have? A wet pussy and pregnancy hormones completely out of control. A few more minutes of this, like this — fuck — grinding against his cock on this seat, and she would be done.

  Two weeks of waiting and anticipating, and the thirty minutes of playtime she’d hoped for would explode into an unruly orgasm in a matter of minutes. Or seconds. Fuck...

  "If you missed me so much," she panted, "why have you been hesitating with me?"

  "I told you."

  "No, you didn't. You haven't said the words out loud." Annie stopped bumping and grinding. "It's been like this for weeks. I'm not talking about just tonight.”

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Baby, you could never hurt me." She took his face in her hands. "I'm pregnant, not breakable. The only thing hurting me right now is knowing you’re afraid to be yourself with me." Sinking down, she allowed him the access he needed, allowing him inside her body completely — all the way down to his base.

  An elongated groan slipped from his mouth. He trembled.

  "Fuck me, Cal." She took his hands and placed them on her hips. "Touch me. Now." Their eyes met. "I may be on top, but you still own me. I'm still yours to do with as you please. Don't hold back with me anymore. Fuck. Me. Hard."

  His world-domination eyes took over. He slipped off his shoes. "Lift up." Cal shoved his pants past his thighs and pushed them to the floor. He took her by the hips and planted her back down, making the same wonderful groaning sound as he filled her body for only the second time in almost two weeks.

  "Fuck..." His eyes rolled back into his head. "Ride me, Annie. Fuck me, baby, just like you wanted to. You. Show. Me."

  He pushed the straps of her dress down, folded back the scoop neckline beyond her breasts, and began to trace the peaks that seemed to have swelled in those two weeks. He thrust inside her while watching her face in the darkness of the car. Leaning forward, he took a nipple into his mouth — suckling, biting, licking — until she pushed against his chest and screamed.

  "Fuck me, Annie. Show me your gift." He lifted their bodies with his intrepid thrusting, grinding deeper and taking her harder than he had in weeks.

  Wrapping her fingers around his neck, Annie picked up her speed and bounced, taking him all the way up to the tip, then sitting back down, squeezing her thighs, rubbing her clit against his navel, moaning and moaning, virtually crying, riding him up and then down, crying out each time he went into her.

  And he matched her wild motion. Holding her hips, he gripped her, his nails digging into her skin as he forced her body to do as he wished. He controlled the rhythm. He forced the need and the fuck. It was him, pushing her far, far, far into that place in the mind, the abyss of bliss where nothing — nothing — could come for her. The place of safety … home.

  "Give yourself to me, Annie."

  "I am." She was his gift. He was hers. "I am. I am. Fuck..."

  Sweat dripped off his temples. His eyes and body possessed her. She was his. Always his. Never another. No one else.

  Annie held his face, sobbing in ecstasy. "I have. I've always been yours. From the beginning."

  As she rose up the length of his cock the next time, she stopped, resisting the strength of his hands, trying to control her hips with all her might.

  "Say it to me.” Her voice shook. She coiled her fingers around his slippery neck as she inched her groin away from his desperate tip.

  "I love you."

  "I know," she said, fighting tears. "Say ... tell me..."

  "What, heavy?"

  "Tell me … I am yours."

  "Fuck, Annie. I am yours. Let me inside you."

  "Fill me up with it then, Cal." She sat, taking him in an instant. "Say it again."

  "I'm yours!" Cal thrust into her with a force, nearly knocking the breath f
rom her lungs.

  "Oh! Fuck!” she cried out and moaned, losing herself more than before, gone in the swirl of their love and lust.

  He pumped her over and over, finding the place deep inside her, the place he knew was his … his home.

  "Forever..." Annie cried, exhausting herself with that one simple word, the word that had become theirs. "Say it."

  Cal moved his hands to her face, looked into her eyes, and stared into her old, familiar soul. "I'm yours. Forever, baby."

  His tongue went into her mouth. It made love to her the way he’d originally said he wanted to — exquisitely, passionately. His tongue sucked up her whimpers and her pleasurable crying.

  The heat between their centers increased, welding them together. Everything in Annie hurt, a good hurt, an aching, satisfied hurt. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes. Her insides pulled back in expectation, her internal muscles tightening for several seconds as his tongue continued to explore her mouth, loving and devouring her. The moment her body finally convulsed — exploding into a million pieces, shattering and shattering, holding him in place — the dam broke, the tears fell.

  Cal froze, his eyes locked onto Annie’s, then he groaned, jerking through his own release.

  Sweating, shaking, and still pulsating, bound and together, they stayed lost in their forever — the sealing of their union.

  Together.

  Undying.

  Breathless.

  Forever.

  Winding.

  Close.

  Tight.

  Complete.

  Their souls were intertwined, mingling and running through each other. The uncomfortable seat, the tight position, the jutting belly, the tired eyes, the death, the heartache, the pain — nothing had put a damper on it. The force, the need, the want, and the paralyzing desire were sealed on that day. Sealed with their vows and kisses and rings … with the ultimate consummation in the limo’s backseat.

  It was made official.

  Tied up and bound.

  Now, afterward, at the end of it, when their bodies, hearts, and minds were utmost sated, they kept each other close the remainder of the ride to the hotel.

  stay near

  never far

  be the bridge to my heart

  keep me safe