by Cari Quinn
“So instead of demanding my honesty, you sent me bound prick pix. I thought that was bizarro for you.” She elbowed him in the gut. “You should be ashamed. I had no choice but to save the photo and try to resist my urges to lick the screen.”
His chuckle helped smooth out the jitters in her stomach. “I expected a lot more from you than an elbow to the midsection.”
“I have no room to talk.” She swallowed hard. “Absolutely none.”
“With me, you always do. We both made mistakes.” He brushed a kiss over her temple.
She shivered. “Mine were so much worse.”
“I won’t pretend that I wasn’t bothered by—” He blew out a breath. “All right, way more than bothered. But I believe you. Believe in you. We’ve wasted so much time, and I refuse to spend even another minute with that between us when I know, deep down, that you never intended to cause me pain. That’s not my Ang.”
She went limp in his arms, his reassurance so welcome that she could no longer hold herself upright. And why should she? He was ready for her, and she was ready too. For this. For them. She yearned to share this with him, like everything else they’d experienced together.
Saying nothing, she extricated herself from his arms and lowered herself to the pillow, lifting her butt invitingly in the air. Perhaps the conversation had cooled his ardor, but hers only burned hotter and more intensely. Her anticipation hummed in her veins, mixed with the fear he wouldn’t want to do this anymore.
And then he squeezed her bottom, massaging it gently, and she hissed out a breath. Thank God.
After a few moments of soft, slow caresses, his finger breached her again. This time she didn’t even startle from the sensation. Already her body craved him there. That finger soon became two, slickened in more lube, and she couldn’t do anything other than arch into his strokes.
He shoved the robe higher, revealing her shoulder blades, and a gasp escaped her that she couldn’t hold back. When his lips brushed over her tattoo, she bowed her head, so relieved that she sagged into the pillows. His free hand snuck beneath her to grasp her needy breast, and she jerked upward at the zing that shot from her nipple to her clit.
“Shoulders down,” he murmured, and while the command still lurked in his voice, a surprising tenderness did too. He’d seen her tattoo—he knew—and he wasn’t being rough, wasn’t chastising her for being a liar or demanding further explanations. His fingers continued to slide in and out, working her hole, increasing the coiling heat way down low. “Push your ass against my hand.”
She did as he asked, burying her face in the pillow, smothering her moan at the intrusion of another finger. Those three digits filled her up so completely she couldn’t imagine taking his cock. But oh, she wanted it. The discomfort was shifting to something else, adding to the moisture between her thighs. She shifted restlessly, eager for more, and he obliged, twisting her nipple the way she liked. First one, then the other, before slipping his palm over her belly. He held her there, so tenderly she was afraid to breathe, while he sped up his strokes and bent close to nip the back of her neck. She moaned, already desperately close.
“When I put my fingers inside your pussy, you’re going to come for me.”
Though it didn’t feel like a question, she had an answer. “God, yes. Only for you.”
But he didn’t do as he’d said, not right away. Instead he urged her arms above her head and looped something cool and soft over her wrists. The fabric tightening pulled another involuntary moan from her throat.
“Okay?”
She nodded.
“Give me the words, Angelina. I don’t think we need safe words, at least not yet, but you have to promise to always verbalize your feelings.”
Not yet. She was so stuck on two words she almost missed his mention of safe words. “My wrists are fine. You know about safe words?”
His curved lips brushed over her shoulder blade again. “You should know I always do my research.”
“I do.”
“Which is how I know exactly where to touch you to make you come once I slip my fingers inside you.” He waited a beat. “Though if I miss, don’t hesitate to steer me right.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Damn, Vance, I l—” Shocked, she broke off. “I mean—” His fingers flexed inside her and she whimpered. “I’m really close.” That was so much safer to say than what hovered on her tongue.
Once she said those three little words, there was no going back. Not for her and not for him. She couldn’t do it until she was sure she could believe that what they had was more than the heat of the moment and long-term friendship.
Until he proved to her irrefutably that he wouldn’t walk away.
His only response was to press even deeper inside her while he slid his other hand between her thighs. He caressed her clit, murmuring softly as she rocked, trying to capture his hand where she needed it. Too soon he was on the move, edging lower, spreading her wetness, slicking it over her entrance. As gentle as he was with her ass, he was the exact opposite between her legs, thrusting two fingers so deep that stars exploded behind her closed eyes.
But he was right. Three strong plunges and she started to quiver with deep, powerful spasms, aided by both his rapid motions in her ass and his focused pressure on her G-spot. She opened her mouth to cry out, to scream, but no sound emerged. She thrashed beneath him, trapped in a swirling vortex of pleasure that had no end.
When she slumped into the pillows, he replaced the fingers in her ass with the plug and flicked it on.
“Oh my God.” Her fingers scrabbled over the sheets. That she couldn’t escape from that insistent vibration between her cheeks amped up her arousal. She ground into the palm still cupping her mound, still fingering her pussy, and turned her head to bite her own forearm when she couldn’t reach anything else.
The next orgasm slammed into her by surprise, sending her lunging upward. This time she did scream, helplessly, the tension snapping inside her like a rubber band against flesh. Still, he didn’t stop. He sucked on the back of her neck, teeth grazing, exploiting one of her weakest spots. And his fingers drove into her repeatedly, making the most erotic wet sounds while that buzzing in her ass turned her into a quaking, babbling mess.
By the time he replaced the toy with his cock, she was so ready for him she couldn’t do anything but thrust her hips, hoping like hell he got the message. From the way his palm connected with her left cheek, sizzling heat to her core, he understood what she needed. Slowly, inexorably, he gave it to her, inching deep into that place she’d never allowed anyone before. As she stretched to take in his impossibly thick length—God, he felt bigger than ever—she had only one thought.
Brandy, if you’re not right about this, I’m going to kill you.
Sterling slid farther inside her clenching passage, careful not to rush. He ground his teeth together and dug his fingers into her hips, trying to maintain his unhurried pace. He’d never been fisted this way before. God, one glance at her with her arms stretched far above her head, spine bowed, ass thrust high, and he was on the verge of exploding.
Her lotus tattoo was in full view and that also amplified his urgency. Finally the truth was out between them. Considering how many good memories he had of Ang, one bad decision that had spiraled out of control couldn’t alter his lifelong perception of her.
The woman he was making love to—the woman he loved—deserved his forgiveness. Now they could begin to move past all of the lies.
He blew out a breath and threw back his head, steadying his hold. She was whimpering again and rolling her hips into each of his strokes. He moved faster, deeper, powering into her again and again while she turned her face to the side and let out a keening cry. He stopped, heart rampaging in his chest, fear nearly swallowing him whole.
“Ang?”
In lieu of a reply, she jerked her ass, taking more of his straining length. Damn, the sight of her flesh separating to envelop his cock could make him come all by itself. B
ut he didn’t move. “Are you okay? Tell me or I’m pulling out right now.”
“Hell no, you’re not,” she gasped. “Finish what you fucking started, Vance.”
He couldn’t stop his smile from turning into a laugh. A pained one, since she was still squeezing him so tightly that his balls felt like hot rocks between his legs. They slapped her ass with his renewed thrusts, and that only increased the incredible friction.
Somehow he gathered enough wits to reach around for her clit, and he rolled it between his fingers, pinching the swollen bud. She was drenching his palm, and he loved the sluicing sounds her body made when he gave in to the urge to slip his fingers back into her pussy. He pressed upward, searching out the elusive spot, rubbing hard until she started to quake around him, her gasps slicing through the air like erotic whips.
“Come with me,” he urged, but she already was, pulsing around his fingers, around his erection, wrapping him in her heat and her sexy raspberry fragrance and the unforgettable way she clutched him. Through it all, she chanted his name in a low, loving voice as if she craved the taste of him on her lips. All combined, they elevated a physical act into something damn near celestial.
Her moans triggered his own climax, and he let go with a roar of completion that seared his chest. He drained himself inside her, watching as his release squeezed out around his flesh from within that private place she’d never shared with another.
She was his, and not because of this. Sex was easy. Amazing, incredible, but easy. The overwhelming tenderness that flooded him when he slid out and drew her into his arms—that was what mattered. Her heart was beating so fast. As fast as his own. And when he brushed his mouth over her sweaty cheek, she fumbled to turn her head to meet his kiss.
“I love you,” she breathed. Her clear gray eyes locked with his. “And it’s not because Brandy was telling the truth and my mind is freaking blown from the best fucking I’ve ever had.”
Wrong time to preen. Still, he couldn’t help grinning. “Really? Not bad for a maiden voyage.”
“I’m no maiden.”
“I meant me. That.” He gestured toward her bottom as she stuck out her tongue at him. “Yes, inappropriate timing. Sorry.”
“Moving on.”
“Please do.”
“You’re the best man I’ve ever known and I feel lucky to even know you, never mind have you in my life.” She gave him a shy smile that cut to the very core of him and left him bleeding in the best way. “If all of this ends tomorrow, I’m still so grateful for you.” She inhaled shakily. “And so is my baby.”
Our baby, he corrected in his head.
He tightened his hold on her, enfolding her in his arms despite her squeak, most likely from lack of air. “This isn’t ending,” he said gruffly, covering her mouth with his. “Ever.”
She made some noise against his lips, then slipped her tongue over his, and he forgot about everything except kissing the woman he loved.
The woman who, against all odds, somehow loved him right back.
“Wait here,” he murmured, chuckling when he released her and she puddled in a boneless heap to the mattress.
He understood the feeling. He had trouble getting his rubbery legs to work.
Once in the bathroom, he faced himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. An expression of elation had infiltrated his still-sleepy, satisfied eyes. Maybe they could really do this. She’d been honest with him, even if under duress, and as soon as he did the same, they’d face the next step together.
First, he had to take care of his woman.
He dampened a washcloth with warm water and returned to find her in the same position. She hadn’t moved.
“Hey baby.” After untying her wrists, he rubbed the washcloth over her bottom. “Gotta clean you up.”
“No.” She whimpered at his probing caresses, pushing upward. “I wanna be dirty with you.”
He grinned. “We’ll have plenty of opportunities.” That didn’t mean he could resist leaning down to nip one of the perfect swells of her ass.
A sharp bang jerked him back. He turned toward the doorway, trying to place the sound. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” She sounded as breathless as he was.
Another series of bangs, louder this time. He fumbled to pull up his pants, then snatched his shirt off the floor. “Stay here,” he said over his shoulder, already heading to the door.
She pushed herself up onto her knees. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”
“No. Stay here.” He glanced back. “I’m serious, Angelina.”
She nodded, wiggling until her robe fell back into place over her hips. “Okay.”
He shut the bedroom door behind him and took the stairs two at a time. He kicked aside Ang’s blouse, focused solely on confronting the overeager visitor. If that visitor was Pete, he would be ready. His woman and child were in this house, and he’d take care of those he loved, whatever it took.
The banging from the front porch hadn’t stopped, and by now he could make out a brawny figure through the window in the front door. He grabbed his cell from his pocket and the baseball bat he kept in the umbrella stand in case of emergencies. God knows he didn’t play ball.
“Who’s there?” he shouted, his thumb hovering over the speed dial for 911.
“It’s Marcus, you bastard.”
Sterling’s hand went cold. The crazy banging on the door made sense all of a sudden.
He yanked on the doorknob and threw open the door. Even prepared to face Marcus’s wrath, the staggering fury on the other man’s face took him by surprise.
“I can explain—”
That was as far as he got before a fist came flying at his face.
Chapter Thirteen
Sterling rocked on his heels, gripping his cheek. Pain exploded outward into his eye and jaw, and no matter how he squinted, he couldn’t quite make Marcus’s face come into focus. “Was that really necessary?” he ground out, hoping like hell he didn’t really sound that mushy-mouthed. Then again, he wasn’t sure he still had all his teeth.
That would make the wedding pictures look especially nice.
“Yes, it was necessary, you prick. You’re shacking up in secret with my damn near underage daughter. No more.” Marcus pushed his way past Sterling into the front hall. “Where is she?”
Sterling sucked in air through his nose and tried to ignore the ache digging into his jaw. “How did you find out?”
As soon as he’d voiced the question, he realized it wasn’t the best way of phrasing things. But in his defense, he’d taken a blow to the head. He also hadn’t yet recovered from the best sex of his life…which probably wouldn’t help his case with Ang’s father.
Marcus pivoted to stare him down. “I never figured you for this kind of lowlife. Preying on a young, vulnerable, impressionable girl—”
The stairs creaked. “Daddy, it’s not like that.”
Sterling took one glance at Ang’s skimpy robe and reddened wrists and shut his eyes. “I’ve gone thirty-one years without drama of this nature. You know something? I didn’t miss it.”
“Angel, why didn’t you tell me?”
Sterling took another breath. He’d forgotten Marcus called his daughter Angel. He’d never heard Marcus use that tone before, a soft, heartbreaking echo that only hinted at the hurt Sterling knew he’d caused.
“There’s a lot I didn’t tell you.” She finished walking down the steps and moved into the foyer, not stopping until she was at Sterling’s side. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she strained to brush her fingers over his aching cheek. “How could you hit him, Daddy? If only you knew what he’s done—”
“I can see very well what he’s done.” Marcus looked from her belly to Sterling. Shock flared in his eyes, rang in his voice. “You knocked her up, you bastard.”
“That is such an distasteful term.”
Ang patted his cheek. “Shush. Now’s not the time to get pedantic.” She faced her father squarely and lifted
her chin. “He didn’t—”
“You’re absolutely right,” Sterling interrupted, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her hard into his side. “I knocked her up and I enjoyed every minute. We’d hoped to tell you and Sandra tonight at dinner under more pleasant circumstances, but apparently that wasn’t to be. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. It’s been a whirlwind month.”
“Month?” Marcus tapped his balled fist against his thigh. “She looks more than four weeks pregnant to me.”
“You’re right. It’s been a few whirlwind months.” Sterling cleared his throat. “Right, darling?”
She gazed up at him, her expression every bit as challenging as her father’s. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked under her breath.
“I’m sharing our happy news with your father. Something we should’ve done much sooner.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
Sterling only tightened his grip. “See? Happy. Absolutely ecstatic.”
Luckily Marcus didn’t seem to be paying attention to Ang. “How could you violate my trust this way? I came to you and expressed my concerns and you dismissed them, while all the while you knew you’d knocked her—”
“Enough with the knocking. She’s pregnant, we’re happy, and we’re going to be a family.”
“Sterling,” Ang warned. “Stop while you’re ahead.”
“I didn’t handle any of this well. In fact, I’m not sure I could’ve handled it worse if I tried. But the bottom line is that I love your daughter.” He shifted to look at Ang, and in that instant, Marcus faded away. All he could see were the nerves shining in her dewy gray eyes. He cupped her cheeks, his throat going tight. “I love you, baby. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
A phone buzzed and all three of them looked around to try to identify the source of the sound. Ang eased his hands away from her face and tugged her cell out of the pocket of her robe—guess she never left the bedroom without it—and swallowed hard. Then she turned toward Sterling and squeezed his fingers. The wetness in her eyes had dried in a flash. “I love you too. And I wish it was that simple.”