All I Want is You_A Second Chance Romance

by Carter Blake

I want to stop her, but Rebecca is too stubborn. When she gets an idea in her mind, no one can change it.

  It’s not long before we find ourselves in the attic.

  I half expected to find a dark and dingy crawl space, but to my surprise, everything about the space is beautiful.

  There’s an old stone fireplace in the corner, circa early 1920s.

  A dark blue-colored throw rug covers the floors and a leather couch. A pale-blue light streams through the large window.

  “So, what do you think?” she asks, turning to me.

  “It’s surprising. I assumed that there’d be a ghost up here, but it looks almost good enough to live in,” I remark.

  Rebecca smiles.

  “You know, since you’re here, we could…”

  Her voice trails off.

  She doesn’t need to finish that sentence. It’s as if the atmosphere of the room has taken hold of us. And in the silence, I can hear her thoughts as clearly as my own.

  The slight crimson color rises on her neck and cheeks. I can tell that behind the cool facade, she’s in heat. She drops her gaze as if she’s afraid to meet my eyes.

  She bites her bottom lip. As if compelled by the invisible force that binds us, I move toward her, pulling her into my arms.

  Her breasts push up against my chest. Her lips trembles mildly.

  I bend my head slightly, burying my lips in the nape of her neck, smelling her perfume. I trace my mouth there, biting and nibbling on the skin, before moving to the base of her throat.

  She pants softly. The air rises out of her throat in a slow movement.

  “You were saying,” I mumble before continuing to kiss and caress her lips with mine.

  She moves her hands up, forcing me slightly away from her. She doesn’t say a word and simply takes my hands and guides me toward the couch.

  Sitting on the ancient, surprisingly soft piece of furniture, I study her for a moment. My eyes penetrate hers as I take in her rare beauty.

  I feel her hand brush against the front of my jeans. My dick, which is already hard, almost surges straight out of the denim.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, does she have to let her hand just linger there? Even though I didn’t think I could be any fucking harder, there’s still blood rushing to the tip of my cock.

  I swear to God, if I don’t fuck this woman now...

  The soft, slow gait of my earlier movements turns into a fury. We’re impassioned and mutually crippled with a desire that we can’t control.

  “Come here,” I growl, suddenly pushing her down toward to couch.

  She lands gently as if taken by surprise.

  “Killian,” she whispers.

  “By the time I’m finished, my name is the only word that you’ll be able to speak,” I say in my best husky tone.

  I lean over her, running my hands over her body. As if reuniting with the essence of a fading yet beloved memory, my fingers seem to thrill at every curve, slope, and crevice.

  I open the front of her shirt; her breasts nearly spring out of their holding cell, and her nipples are firmly erect.

  “No bra,” I remark, already slipping my hands around her hips so I can remove her jeans.

  “No panties either,” she says, her lips curving into a naughty little smile.

  “You did come prepared,” I say.

  “Of course. Now let’s see if you can finish me off,” she says.

  “At your service, lass,” I say.

  I pull her jeans down, exposing her bare pussy.

  I regard it as a thing of beauty—something that men have fought and died for centuries over.

  I want to take it apart, to see it deconstructed to its essence, to shove the entirety of my throbbing dick into her cunt, but I restrain myself.

  As much as I want her, I also need to ensure she gets every single molecule of enjoyment and pleasure from this experience that she deserves.

  I won’t let her down.

  Her madly soaked pussy is inviting me in. She spreads her legs apart, exposing her clit. I kneel down, pulling my mouth onto the open bud that continues to beckon every part of my body and soul.

  I can tell from the scent that ovulation is more than just on the horizon.

  The time has come for some procreational magic.

  I smile at the thought that pretty soon my dick will work its charm, and we’ll soon have a little bit of combined DNA.

  I run my tongue down the centerfold of her pussy, starting at the top and then meeting her in the middle. Rebecca gives a slight moan, so faint that I can barely hear it. I watch her legs spread apart, goading me on.

  I dip my tongue in between her pussy lips, rotating it across the tip. In a circular motion, I move my mouth, sucking and biting on that tiny patch of bliss.

  She’s moaning now, panting. She reaches her hands around my neck, pulling me into her.

  “God, Killian,” she moans.

  I continue the slow impetus of pleasure directed at her pussy, this time slipping my fingers into her hole.

  Feminine juice and the mix of my saliva seems to bring her to full life.

  Her hips rock back and forth on my face, gyrating against the touch of my mouth.

  Time seems to disappear, molding into the unending compendium of ecstasy that exists between her body and mine.

  Even though I’m raw with need, there’s something that makes me want to please her. With every flick of my tongue, I feel her legs tighten and then relax. Her hands grip my neck with force, fingers digging into my skin.

  “Shit,” she says, moaning the next time my mouth descends between the walls of her pussy.

  I take one last movement, increase the speed of my tongue, and pummel my fingers into her.

  “Shit!”

  She screams and throws her head back, her muscles convulsing over and over again as the orgasm rips through her.

  And then she’s still, eyes closed, panting like’s she swam all the way here, starting from the Pacific and going through the Panama Canal and all the way across the North Atlantic.

  I reach over to kiss her.

  “Oh my god, where did you learn to do that?” she asks.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to put you under again.”

  “I’m game. I can handle it.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “A better question is, can you handle me?”

  “Listen, Aengus has been known to plow through a woman for hours,” I say, rubbing my hand over my cock.

  “Aengus, huh?” she says, sitting up. “We’ll see about that.”

  She reaches up toward my belt, unstrapping the clasp from its hold. My jeans slide to the floor, leaving me in a pair of boxers. I watch her eyes widen as my cock nearly springs out of the front.

  “Come here, big boy,” she says to my cock.

  She slides her hand around my dick, stroking it slowly and squeezing my balls between her hands.

  Holy fuck. Can this woman make me any harder?

  I close my eyes, allowing myself to surrender to the sensation of her hands. She moves them up and down, stroking me from base to tip, and I swear my mind absolves into nothing.

  Usually, there’s no way any man could get as hard as I am after consuming as much whiskey as I have recently, but Rebecca’s intoxicating in a different way—a way that vastly overpowers the strongest liquor.

  My mind is lucid, body aflame where my skin meets her touch.

  Then I feel it—her mouth descending on my shaft. It’s warm and luscious.

  I jerk forward. The vein in my head feels like it’ll burst in an explosion of energy.

  Her tongue dances on my cock, her hands squeezing my arse.

  I thrust into her mouth, every part of me coming unhinged at the mercy of her hands, her mouth, her everything.

  I’m a bullet train on speed. I rock to the motion, my hands reaching up to cup her breasts.

  “Damn, I want you so bad,” I say, barely able to get the words out from behind g
ritted teeth.

  She doesn’t stop and continuously takes me in like she can never run out of steam.

  I feel it—the explosion of heat ripping through me. My erection fuses with every sensation of my body and into the uncontrollable roar of my orgasm.

  It seizes my body. A hot stream of cum fills her cavern, leaving my mouth dripping with the clear liquid of everything that I’m trying to hold in.

  I groan, my eyes shutting down, unable to speak.

  She leans in to kiss me and whispers in my ear, “Ready for round two?”

  I give her a lazy smile.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” I say, pulling her to meet my mouth in an extended kiss.

  Rebecca

  We’re lying on the couch. Killian’s body is spread underneath mine. His eyes are closed as if he’s in the deepest sleep.

  In my several decades on earth, I’ve never experienced anything like this—the way he can seem so fucking knowledgeable and in control but then still make me feel like I’m the most powerful woman alive.

  I wonder how I’ll ever go back to my regular life after this.

  I think of my ex-husband and how moments like this were few and far between. In fact, I don’t remember DH ever trying to please me or focus on my needs.

  Usually, he would just finish in four seconds and leave me in want.

  With Killian, it’s different...the way he touches me and takes the time to kiss me.

  He allows moments to linger and lets everything play out to its fullest potential.

  It’s true that there’s a ferocity about Killian, but he still makes me feel like what I need and what I want is of the utmost importance. Even after the first time we made love, I kept finding myself thinking of the experience.

  I never forgot how good I felt next to him. It’s why, despite fighting against my own heart, it was so easy to climb in bed with this man.

  I feel him underneath me. His body writhes as if moving of its own accord.

  We’re lying on the couch. It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I press my head against his bare skin, burrowing my face into the sculpted muscle of his chest, and feel his heartbeat.

  His breaths are deep and reticent. They seem to spiral with mine so that we’re in unison. I can still feel the warm sensation traveling from the where his hands had been just moments before.

  Then, Killian looks at me, his eyes full of ravenous hunger.

  My heart races, and my body trembles as I run my hands across his skin. He gives me that little half smile before raising his hand to brush a loose strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

  He draws his face closer to mine until we meet in a gentle kiss that only hints at the oceans of want that are coming to a boil just under the surface of the moment.

  The electrical impulses of desire are almost visible as they transit in the shrinking gaps of air between us.

  “I'm not finished with you yet,” I inform him.

  “Oh?”

  The playful banter that we usually have is changing form, molding into a comfortable silence.

  We’ve exchanged our words for unspoken sentiments, allowing our bodies to commune in primal, wordless sensations that transcend language and time, diving into the abyss of endlessness.

  I trail my mouth along his chest and back up to his Adam’s apple before being drawn magnetically down to his statuesque pecs. My tongue insists on stopping to play with his nipples before continuing my leisurely exploration.

  I shift downwards fluidly to his navel, and I can see the line of hair that seems to create a path all the way to where his cock lies in waiting.

  I stop short, allowing my tongue to dance around the skin just above his throbbing cock.

  The teasing continues.

  Killian groans. “Could you torture me anymore, Rebecca?”

  “Yes, I have every intention of making you pay,” I say slyly.

  “For fuck’s sake, woman...”

  I sit up so that we’re face-to-face.

  I put my finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t speak. You’ve had your fun. It’s my turn.”

  I wrap my legs around his waist, straddling him like I’m about to have the ride of my life. Killian’s face stiffens as I position my pussy over the tip of his dick.

  He looks like he’s going to explode. His cock is wet, and pre-cum runs down the length of his shaft.

  He’s so ready for me.

  I slide his dick inside me, allowing him to fill me with every single inch of himself.

  Closing my eyes, I begin to move back and forth against him.

  Killian grunts and wraps his muscular arms around my waist, pulling himself deeper inside of me. He shifts his waist; we grind against each other, and I moan as I ride him to the edge of spasmodic ecstasy.

  “Oh, fuck, Killian,” I say, not getting enough.

  “I can’t hear you,” he says, continuing to thrust inside me.

  “Fuck, Killian!” I scream, gripping the sheets.

  Suddenly, Killian switches gears.

  He grabs me, lifting me from the couch with his dick still entrenched deep inside of me.

  He flips me over onto my stomach so that my body’s face down on the couch. Killian stands behind me, thrusting deeper and deeper.

  All of him is surging repeatedly into my dripping-wet pussy.

  Killian’s hand reaches forward, gently brushing the hair from my face before suddenly pulling a handful of it back toward him.

  His balls slam against me, his cock dipping into me faster, then harder, then both.

  Shit, is there anything this man can’t do?

  My body trembles. My mind can’t do anything but space the fuck out blissfully.

  All I can think about is how goddamn good he feels.

  There’s a rhythm between us as we rock to the sound of the cushions squeaking against the couch.

  My nails dig into the furniture—I don’t know how I’m not about to fucking explode, but I just want this to keep going.

  I feel a divine, near fucking religious sensation as a hurricane of an orgasm takes hold of me.

  Every part of my body seems to quiver with the voracious fury of Killian Walsh.

  He thrusts into me over and over. I cry out before my teeth clamp down on my lips.

  My eyes close as I throw my head back.

  With one last movement of his body, everything erupts. I grip the couch tightly. He sends everything, all of me and everything surrounding me, into a fury—and, for just a moment, I can feel nothing except him.

  My muscles tighten, and my body contorts as the hot stream of his cum shoots into me.

  A moment later, Killian comes as well.

  We collapse on the couch, our bodies too tired to move, breathless and panting hard. I kiss him. He returns the motion with whatever strength he has left.

  It’s just then that we hear the rain fall. Here in the upper level of this ageless building, we can hear the water hit the roof.

  Killian stares at the roof, deep in thought.

  “Did you know that when I was a child, I always loved the rain?” he says.

  “No, I didn’t know,” I reply softly.

  He smiles. “I used to think that the sound of the rain on the roof was from a million tiny dancers doing an Irish jig.”

  Killian laughs slightly at his own memory.

  “I can picture that,” I say. “I used to lie on the floor of my parents’ attic for hours and just stare up at the roof, listening. Somehow, it always made me feel like I was safe and protected.”

  He looks at me for a moment. “Kind of like this moment...” he says quietly.

  I blush. I’ve never heard Killian say anything in earnest that wasn’t tinged with at least a trace of sarcastic detachment, but there’s something reassuring about his words.

  Killian looks at my stomach. He takes his hand and presses it onto my belly. I can tell he’s studying something.


  “What’s on your mind?” I ask.

  He cocks his head slightly.

  “I was just thinking that, after today, there’ll be a small thread that holds us together—the little life that we’ll soon bring into the world in the coming months.”

  I look down at my belly, recognizing that he’s right.

  Excitement, nervousness, apprehension, and a glaze of elation all begin to run through me without warning.

  Whatever happens, the agreement between us has been finalized.

  The future is suddenly much more interesting and much less predictable.

  All those confused, agitated emotions give way to another feeling.

  It’s the feeling of the deep store of love I carry with me always but stays so buried and protected these days it may as well not be there at all.

  That’s the presence I’m feeling now—a deep, limitless well of love that’s either going to go somewhere as I get older...or it’ll go nowhere.

  After today, it looks like it may have somewhere to go after all.

  I lean into Killian, taking his hand in mine.

  “There may very well be it. No turning back now.”

  Killian nods, kissing me one last time before the rain lulls us both to sleep.

  Killian

  I roll over onto my back.

  The sigh leaving my lips is drowned out by the clap of thunder that shakes the foundation of my cottage.

  The sound of the rain on my roof is hypnotic and—if I wasn’t so fucking wide awake—would pull me to sleep like a mother’s lullaby.

  My hands fall across my bare chest, and my head turns to the side. The dull red lights of my alarm peer back at me through the darkness.

  I figure it’s something like four or five in the morning.

  I’m wrong.

  It’s only midnight.

  I’ve slept maybe an hour in total, but I feel as though I’ve slept for days. My brain is firing on all cylinders, and my body feels as though I could outrun a race horse.

  I turn my head to the other side. My brow furrows at the sight of the empty pillow.

  I don’t know why I had insisted on coming home alone. Maybe it was to ensure that there was still this distance between us and that this remained a purely professional, business-like pairing. Perhaps I just wanted to ensure that I got a good night’s sleep so that I could start fresh on my novel in the morning.