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Breck

Page 5

by Brynn Hale

She turns on a nightstand light and throws a gold scarf over the lamp, a soft glow covers the room.

  We stop at the bedside.

  “Maybe I was meant to be here. With you, Tilly.” My hand brushes over her skin, in between her breasts, down her stomach, over her thong, floating. “Damn, you’re wet.”

  Her hands slip my jacket off my shoulders as I undo my belt and strip my pants off. I know that I want this to be slow and generous, and it will be, but I can’t get naked fast enough. I want her to see.

  To see how close her painting is to the truth. And how far.

  I stand back, dragging my grey tie through the neck of my button down. I strip off my white dress shirt and pull my t-shirt over my head.

  Her eyes widen and her pupils explode in those beautiful blue eyes. “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”

  “Just keep saying that.”

  She reaches forward and strokes my cock through my boxer briefs. “You know that painting is you, right?” Her other hand grazes over the skin where I had emergency surgery when I was eleven to have my burst appendix out. Back then they didn’t have laparoscopy at the local hospital, and everything was big and ugly when it came to incisions.

  “I saw the scar.”

  She blushes. “I saw you naked.”

  My eyebrows peak. “What? When?”

  “Last summer. That creek behind the ranch. I was out counting fish for a survey. You stripped down and sunk into the water. I shouldn’t have watched, but you were so handsome. I couldn’t help myself. I came home and painted you immediately.” She tugs the underwear down my legs. “Wow. But as I now see, I’ll have to do some major renovations.”

  “It was cold that day.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. I take the opportunity to run my lips up and down her long elegant neck, reaching behind her to release her beautiful breasts from the lace. I tweak her nipples as I explore her collarbones and I don’t stop descending. My tongue laves over her nipples, those glorious spheres held in my hands, warm and soft.

  We climb onto the bed, leaving the sheets crumpled at the bottom.

  I tease her lips and my hands explore her body. Her hand rocks long my cock and I have to imagine some pretty horrible things to stop my nuts from tightening. I trail my hand down her body and through that thick curly patch of shelter. I glide fingers over the soft lips, collecting the dripping juices and stroking the delicate flesh.

  “Can I—”

  “Yes… please.”

  Slowly I glide a finger inside of her body and she sucks in a quick breath as I retreat and reenter her body. She’s not warm. She’s steaming hot inside.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good. It’s good.” Tilly’s eyes shine up at me. “It’s really good.”

  My thumb finds her clit, all engorged, and I skim it.

  “I feel like you’re playing my body like your guitar.”

  Soon her hips are rocking, slowly. I give her clit a bit more pressure. It’s so hard and yet she’s so soft. Her breathing is fast.

  “Sweetheart…” I stroke my cock, and my body clenches.

  Her eyes flicker open. “Make love to me, Breck.”

  I move over her and line up, being careful not to penetrate her until she’s ready.

  She lifts her hips and the head of my cock slips past her soft entrance. “Oh, God.” She nods frantically. “Yes… slowly.”

  I proceed forward. “Shit… Umm… we didn’t talk about how long…this might…take me.”

  She giggles. “It’s okay, Breck.” Her hands clasp my face. “It’s beautiful.” She arches her back.

  “That’s good baby.” I wait for her to get used to being filled. And I realize how filled I am in the process. She’s given me a gift. Her and her heart.

  I withdraw and slowly rock into her, a little deeper.

  “Breck…oh, God…”

  “That’s right, sweetheart.”

  Her hips jolt to mine and our bodies collide.

  “I’m close, Breck.”

  “My Tilly’s so beautiful.”

  Her pussy flutters along my cock as she clamps her eyes closed and arches her neck, her orgasm so amazing that I know I’ll never see anything more beautiful.

  Except her.

  I let my body react, unclenching my jaw and giving two quick thrusts and then I stay planted, just allowing the blast to roll over me while I stare into her bright eyes. Her lips meet mine and she whispers. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I’ve never thought that love was a gift, but Tilly has changed my mind.

  I’m sure she’ll continue to attempt to change my mind forever.

  Epilogue

  Tilly

  The following August.

  “Excellent job, Travis.” I walk along the picnic tables and admire paintings. Eighteen eight- to ten-year olds line up in front of the table easels, leaving their memories on a canvas.

  Families now flock to the Peacock Ridge Ranch and Eco-Friendly Learning Center. My husband’s brainchild. I do the arts and teaching the kids when it comes to how to live with amicably with flora and fauna and why we should be respectful of both. He does the facilities management and rehabilitation and potential rehoming of injured animals. I’ve had some interesting effects on him.

  We were married on Valentine’s Day. We knew it was forever, so why not make it forever. It was a big day for the whole family and will be a date to celebrate for a very long time.

  “Tilly…” Luke runs over. “It’s happening.”

  My stomach drops. “Now? Are you kidding? Her due date isn’t until next week.”

  “When a baby’s coming, a baby’s coming. Can’t really discuss the finer points of staying inside a uterus with them.”

  I giggle. “I guess so. Okay. Um… you’ll finish this?”

  “I guess so. Kids, this is going to get very Picasso meets Warhol.”

  “What is warthall?” one asks.

  “Maybe just let them go explore the learning center.” I roll my eyes.

  “She’s waiting for you in the den.” My brother-in-law gives me a kiss on my cheek “Now go!”

  I take off on a run. I pass by Ellie, Cole’s pregnant wife, their first is only weeks weeks away, too. I job backwards. “Did you hear?”

  “Is it happening?”

  “It’s happening!”

  She waves me on. “I’ll catch up, just can’t run. Go!”

  I fly in the backdoor and Breck’s standing there.

  He’s back from his first fifteen-city tour. His independently released album flying up the charts. Seems I gave him some inspiration. My favorite songs, “First Kiss” and “She’s Beautiful.” And I even sang with him on, “They Were Here First,” a cheek-in-tongue song about making the world better for the next generation.

  “She’s doing okay, sweetheart.” He steps back and Bella’s panting, laying on her side.

  My eyes fill with tears. She looks so scared. I’m sure she’s not ready. I’m not ready.

  Ellie makes it in the back door with her veterinary bag. “Let’s see how we’re doing.” She kneels with Breck’s help, her huge tummy keeping her from leaning over. She listens. She examines.

  “She’s great. Oh…here we go.” She assists mother nature, but Bella’s a natural.

  One by one, puppies find their way into our world.

  A whimper sounds from behind the closed door that goes to the bathroom off the den.

  “Is Roscoe in there?” I ask Breck.

  “I didn’t know if he should be out here.”

  “What do you think, Ellie?”

  “I don’t see why not, after all they’re his babies, too.”

  Seems that Bella and Roscoe finally figured out how to end their spats with a little doggie-style lovin’.

  Ellie finally took care of making Roscoe a one-time daddy after we realized Bella was pregnant. Snip. Snip.

  Two hours later, all the puppies are nursing and Roscoe’s cuddling with
Bella.

  Breck wraps me in his arms. “They’re amazing.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks.

  I purse my lips. We’d started looking into surrogates. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  He turns me in his arms, his eyes wide. “You sure?”

  “I am. I want a baby that’s half you and half me, honey.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  His lips claim mine and I hear music playing.

  It’s the magic of our song.

  Don’t you Wanna Stay…

  ~THE END~

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  About the Author

  Brynn Hale is a Midwest girl who can spot--and swoon over--a hard-working guy a mile away. She believes in winks across a crowded room, guys who do the dishes, a blue-collar alpha will always win a heroine's heart, and a martini or craft beer is the perfect accompaniment to her stories.

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