Out of Formation

by Ella Fox

  Wrapping my left hand around the base of his shaft, I twist it up and around in time with the up and down motion of my head. With my right hand, I scratch my nails against his skin. The inside of his ankle, the sensitive spot just above his knee, the top of his inner thigh and then his pubic bone all make him crazy, as evidenced by the way his breath is coming in gasps and his fingers are tight in my hair.

  "Oh God," he gasps as I take him deeper, sticking out my tongue and breathing through my nose so that he can hit the back of my throat. I start moving faster, watching as his eyes turn to liquid fire. Seeing how much he loves this gets me so, so wet. Needing to touch myself, I stop scratching at his skin and slide my hand between my thighs. I shiver as I rub my clit while he fucks my face, moaning as sensation races through my body.

  "Stop! Stop," he growls as he pulls himself out of my mouth.

  Lifting me up from the pillow he spins me so that I'm facing the bed. "Hold on," he orders.

  I shiver as I grip the comforter. He wraps his left arm around my waist at the same time he rubs his cock against my opening. "So goddamn hot," he groans. "So fucking wet. I can't wait to feel this all over my dick."

  "Colin," I gasp as he slowly surges forward.

  "Love watching your tight little cunt taking my cock," he says in a gravelly voice. "Looks so fucking good wrapped around me, baby."

  "Oh God," I cry as he pulls out and then slams back in, deep.

  Settling his hands at my waist, he starts pushing and pulling me back and forth. The slap-slap-slap of skin on skin fills the room as he fucks me harder and faster.

  Letting go of my right hip, he brings his hand between my legs and starts rubbing my clit. It's so good I can barely breathe. Arching my back, I scream out his name as I feel the first flutters of my orgasm starting. Knowing I'm there, he focuses on what he calls my sweet spot. "Colin," I moan. "I'm coming. Oh fuck, I'm coming!"

  As my pussy clenches around him, I feel him jerking inside of me. "Baby, fuck," he yells.

  The heat of his cum inside me makes me shiver and moan louder as my orgasm crashes through my body. He fucks like a goddamn machine when he comes, burying everything he has to give deep, deep inside of me. When it's over, he pulls out, turns me around and puts me up on the bed before he gets on next to me, takes me into his arms and starts kissing me.

  After several minutes of making out, he raises his head and smiles down at me. "That was one hell of a welcome home, baby. Have I told you lately how much I fucking love you?"

  I grin as I run my hands over his cheek scruff. "It's been at least an hour since the last time you said it."

  He laughs as he drops another soft kiss on my lips.

  "Love you, Leni."

  Wrapping my arms around him, I snuggle his chest and smile. "Love you, too."

  Epilogue

  Elena- 5 months later

  "Sometimes I still find it hard to believe you moved out one day after school started and left me home alone," Miles sighs.

  Looking across the island to where he's seated, I shrug and continue slicing the yellow squash, zucchini, and baby carrots I'm about to put into my vegetable steamer. When I finish cutting the last vegetable, I gesture toward him with the tip of knife and smirk.

  "I moved out, but it’s hardly accurate to say I left you all alone considering you live out in the guest house Monday through Thursday nights," I point out. "You get all the home-cooked meals and reminders to study to keep you on track and then Friday through Sunday you get to act like a fool without me giving you the stink eye. It's perfect for both of us—me in particular since I no longer have to hear the ohhhhh, Milesssss chorus," I mimic in a breathy voice, “nine zillion times each week through your bedroom wall. The last five months have been phenomenal without that making my eardrums bleed at regular intervals,” I joke.

  He rolls his eyes and waves away my complaint. "I see what you're saying, but I'll always be a little salty that you never confirmed he was your jam until five minutes before you announced you were moving out."

  For the most part, he's joking, but he takes some pleasure in giving me shit for being a secret keeper. "First of all, I did eleven loads of laundry for you that afternoon. Second, I feel like this is why you're the yin to my yang," I say sweetly as I turn the steamer on. "You've always over shared, and I was too embarrassed to admit being in love with an older man I thought I had no chance with."

  “Really?” My favorite voice laughs as he walks in the side door. “I think we both know it was me who never stood a chance, Little Bird.”

  Colin and Miles greet each other by way of the traditional bro lifted chin gesture before my man makes his way directly to me like a heat-seeking missile.

  “Missed you,” he says after kissing me stupid.

  I smile as I rub my fingers over his sexy stubble. “It’s only been four hours since I saw you in your office,” I remind him.

  His shit-eating grin makes me blush. Although we’ve never flaunted our relationship, we’ve made good use of his private office many, many times.

  The sound of fake gagging from the counter makes us both laugh. “That’s my cue to leave,” Miles says. “Text me when dinner’s ready.”

  After the door closes behind Miles, Colin pulls me in for a real kiss. We put the next half hour to good use up in our bedroom, just the way I like it.

  Colin- 2 years later

  “Look, Gracie—Daddy’s home!”

  I will never, ever tire of hearing my wife's voice or the sound of our eleven-month-old daughter calling out, "Da-dee, da-dee," happily as she sees me come around the corner into the living room. Gracie is sitting on Elena's lap, smiling and waving to welcome me home from work. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I slide my finger across the screen and pull up the camera. I take a few pictures— by this I mean somewhere in the neighborhood of ten, which is par for the course anytime I start taking photos, which is often. There's no possible way I can ever take enough pictures of these beauties.

  Setting the phone on the end table, I crouch down in front of Elena and open my arms, laughing as Gracie throws herself into them. My daughter is so much like her mother; fearless in the way she takes every leap always knowing someone will catch her before she can hit the ground. I've had to let go of giving her Uncle Miles shit for tossing her around the air because it makes her too happy for me to be a dick about. It's not like he doesn't have a stellar track record of keeping my girls from being hurt.

  When I married Elena two days after her college graduation, I never imagined I could love her more than I did right then. I was wrong. Having Gracie—a part of both of us—has only brought us closer together. After accepting and returning a dozen sloppy baby kisses, I lean forward and kiss Elena's growing belly before arching my neck up to kiss her. The slide of her tongue against mine is the perfect welcome home. Any motherfucker who tells you that they don't find their wife sexy as fuck during pregnancy is a douchebag. Elena is always gorgeous—always—but Christ is it hot watching her body go through the stages of pregnancy. It's absolutely the reason behind her being six months pregnant when Gracie isn't a year old yet. If I have my way, Elena will be knocked up again sometime next year—and then one more for good measure a year or so after that. We're both only children, but we both agree that we want our own family to be bigger than that.

  Our kiss comes to an end when our daughter's tiny baby fingers poke at our faces. We break apart laughing and Gracie giggles along with us as I stand and then sit down next to Leni. With our daughter comfortably settled on my lap, I turn to face my wife.

  “How’s Connor doing?” I ask as I run my free hand over her belly.

  The feel of our son kicking from inside her stomach never gets old. I was mesmerized by it the entire time Grace was in there, and that is equally true with Connor.

  “Any thought we had about him being like Pop since he’s named after him is quickly fading away,” she jokes as she sets her hand down over mine. The sparkle of her engagement and w
edding rings a visual reminder of some of the happiest days of my life. “This kid is a kicker—just like his dad. I won’t be surprised if he’s born wearing a team jersey.”

  I can’t help my laugh. “Like father, like son. Guess that means we’re in for it.”

  Leni smiles as she leans into me and sets her head on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Neither would I. Our home is filled with love and through our children, the legacy of my grandparents and the love they had for me and, more importantly, for this beautiful and amazing woman that I am so fucking lucky to call mine, lives on.

  About the Author

  Ella Fox is the USA Today Bestselling Author of Consequences of Deception, The Hart Family series & many other sexy and exciting books.

  Ella is an avid reader, lover of music and all around goofball. She grew up loving to read. That's not surprising considering the fact that her mom is USA Today Bestselling Author Suzanne Halliday!

  www.authorellafox.com

  Also by Ella Fox

  The Enamorado (In Love) Series

  I Don’t

  I Want

  I Need

  I Quit (coming Fall 2018)

  Erotic Intentions Novellas (All available FREE in KU)

  Sin’s Temptation

  Sweet Like Candy

  Amber’s Allure

  The Hart Family Series

  Broken Hart

  Shattered Hart

  Loving Hart

  Unbroken Hart

  Missing Hart

  Finding Hart

  The Renegade Saints (Rockstar Romance) Series

  Picture Perfect

  Twist of Fate

  Between Us

  Something to Believe In

  Standalone Books

  Consequences of Deception

  All That’s Left to Hold Onto

  The timing of the interruption was impeccable, so I wasn’t about to complain. Hours spent slumped over a computer were hell on my spine. I was delighted for an excuse to take a break and look away.

  I quickly rolled my neck from side to side to alleviate some of the tension while reminding myself that I’d wanted a nine to five job. The shrill tone sounded a third time before I picked up.

  “This is a case of perfect timing,” I yawned. “I desperately needed to stretch and look away from my monitor.”

  “Uh, Ava?”

  My left brow arched at the uncertain tone of Ben’s voice.

  “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” I answered dryly. “I feel like you already knew that since you’re the one who called me. What’s up?”

  “There’s… well, a man is on the phone for you.”

  I assumed it was my boss, a man who was a perfectionist unlike any I’d ever known. Whenever he called, it was because something was not to his exacting standards. I wondered if I’d inadvertently messed up a column in one of my spreadsheets. I tried so hard, but like every other employee at Keeping Track, I had been on the receiving end of more than one talking-to.

  I stifled a groan. “It's Mr. Gretchen isn't it?”

  The sound of Ben’s elevated breathing filled the silence. “Um, no,” he answered, “this is most definitely not Mr. Gretchen.”

  “Well, since you’re acting weird I have to assume it’s someone unusual. Is it the President? Bill Gates? Oh, wait. I know. It’s Ryan Reynolds. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a dozen times not to call me at work—"

  “Not even close. This man—he says he’s your fiancé.”

  All the blood left my head, and my heart stopped beating for several seconds. When it resumed pumping, I tried assuring myself I was asleep. Yep, that had to be it. I was having a nightmare. With my free hand, I pinched my thigh, only to wince at the twinge of pain. I wasn’t dreaming.

  I chanted ‘no, no, no’ in my head as I struggled to take in enough oxygen to be functional. I was nowhere near ready to deal with him. Surely he wouldn’t have tracked me down at work. With me gone, he had to be using the opportunity to explore the bachelor life and live it to the fullest. I’d assured myself he’d be busy dealing with his social calendar that thinking of me would be impossible.

  I embraced denial like it was my job. There was some kind of mistake or whoever was on the phone wasn’t him. Maybe it was some other man calling for an entirely different Ava. Of course! Yes, that was it. That could happen, right?

  “His voice,” I whispered. “Does he sound—”

  “Spanish?” Ben supplied. “Yeah.”

  I’d been about to ask if he sounded like a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but Spanish told me what I needed to know. The phone fell from my hand, clattering loudly as it hit the desk. I fumbled frantically, knocking a container of pens over in the process. My pulse raced as the pens scattered across the desk haphazardly. My fingers seemed to be made of butter, and my dexterity was gone, so picking them up was impossible. I abandoned the pens and grabbed the phone, clumsily hitting myself in the cheek with it as I brought it back to my ear.

  “Please tell me this is just a prank,” I pleaded.

  My voice sounded shaky even to my ears. I was grasping at straws, and I knew it, but right then I was holding out hope some tabloid hack had found me. In my panicked state, it was the preferable option.

  “It’s not,” Ben insisted. “Besides, it’s not like I’d know to make this joke seeing as how over the course of the six weeks you’ve worked here, you never added anyone to the approved caller list. I realize you’re an introvert but not putting a fiancé on your list seems a little odd.”

  My heart thundered as I tried to get my bearings. They were, of course, nowhere to be found. It was always like this when it came to him. My inner compass always pointed me in one direction—straight to Mateo Cruz.

  “I’m not,” I denied shakily. “Engaged,” I clarified.

  The six-carat emerald and diamond engagement ring hidden in a pair of jeans on a shelf in my closet said otherwise, but having possession of it wasn’t my choice.

  No matter how hard I’d tried, the stubborn jerk wouldn’t take it back. Even when I’d resorted to outlandish and ridiculous measures, it hadn’t made a bit of difference. In a fit of desperation, I’d once hocked it for ten percent of its value. I woke up the following morning to a courier at my door with the ring. Two days later I donated it to a children’s charity. That time I got it back within six hours, along with a thank you note from the charity for my generous cash donation.

  I suspected even if I tossed it to the bottom of the ocean like elderly Rose in the Titanic movie, it would find its way back to me within twenty-four hours.

  “Well, the man on line one disagrees which means he must be nuts. You want me to tell him to get lost?”

  I half-considered it for a fraction of a second, even imagined how easy it would be to bury my head in the sand and allow a male receptionist to tell my former fiancé to shove off. Only as I played the rest of the possible outcomes through my head did I admit defeat. Mateo Cruz was an unstoppable force. He wouldn’t go away simply because I refused to pick up the phone.

  My sigh was one of resignation. “No. I’ll deal with it.”

  I clutched the handset tightly as I disconnected with Ben and did my best to prepare myself for what was coming. I sat stock still with the phone held over my heart as I made an attempt to corral my emotions. After about five seconds of breathing in and out, I accepted reality— it wasn’t going to work. With an aggravated sound, I steeled myself as much as possible and pressed the button to take the call.

  “This is not a welcome surprise,” I snipped. “What do you want, Mateo?”

  I hoped my voice didn’t betray my panic. I thought I sounded somewhat normal, but Mateo knew me better than anyone. He was so finely tuned to my every action; I suspected he’d known I was anxious before I’d uttered a word.

  “You have had your space,” he announced. “Now it is time for us to talk. In person.”

  The sound of his voice hi
t my veins like a drug, chipping away at my resistance and destroying my determination in a nanosecond. I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t seem to erect a wall between my heart and my former fiancé. My right knee jiggled at what seemed like a million miles an hour as my grip on the phone tightened to the point of pain. Under no circumstances could I be face to face with him. If a simple phone call threw me off, a meeting would be catastrophic.

  My heart thundered in my chest like I was about to have a go in the Thunderdome. “Absolutely not,” I hissed. “I have zero desire to see you, ever. Go away, Mateo. I don’t want to speak to you.”

  My teeth ground together when he chuckled as if I’d said something pleasant or kind.

  “Ah, mi amor. This is good,” he murmured. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your fire returning. It killed me to see you so lost.”

  The way his voice reawakened my craving for him terrified me. For nine weeks I’d assured myself daily that I was learning to feel less. Within forty seconds, he’d disabused me of the fantasy. A frisson of alarm raced up my spine. There was no way I could meet up with him face to face. If his voice could still elicit the response it did, I’d be done for in the same room with him. No. I needed to stay on offense. Meeting up could not happen.

  “Don’t talk as though you have any idea what’s going on in my life,” I muttered.

  “I know plenty, mi tesoro.”

  My teeth ground together as I swallowed past the lump of emotion in my throat. His term of endearment was like an arrow straight to my chest. He was lying—I wasn’t his treasure.

  “How about we talk about what I know,” I said defensively. “For example, I knew before I even picked up the phone that you’d still be an overbearing know-it-all piece of—"

  The telltale sound of the call disconnecting before I could finish my sentence brought me up short. Pulling the phone from my ear, I stared down at the receiver with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and, shamefully, disappointment. He’d hung up on me without warning. I’d expected him to argue, but he’d given up without a fight. That wasn’t the Mateo I knew.