by Lily Harlem
A small sigh juddered from his chest. “And I don’t want to argue with you. You’re the woman I love, adore, my heart beats for you.”
A small sob gurgled up from her throat, but he caught it in a kiss.
She looped her arms around his neck, kissed him back, her tongue stroking into his mouth.
How could we lose our connection?
“I love you,” she gasped.
“And I love you.” He ran his hands down her shoulders, her arms, and gripped her waist.
In one swift movement, he lifted her onto the counter.
“Raul,” she gasped as he stepped between her legs, shifting her dress up her thighs.
“Want to make a fantasy of mine come true?”
She giggled, even though her eyes held the shimmer of tears. “Tell me what it is first.”
“I want to make love to you here, in Regalo del Mar’s kitchen, on this counter.”
“Kinky stuff.” She ran her hands into his hair.
“It’s only kinky the first time.” He kissed her again, gathering her sinfully tight and sexy dress and pushing it up her thighs.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “Raul.”
He tugged at her panties and slipped them down her legs.
“There’s no CCTV in here, is there?” she asked.
“Not that I know.”
“What?” She glanced about nervously.
He chuckled. “No, there isn’t.”
“Good.” She reached for his belt buckle, undid it, then slipped his fly zipper down. “Because no one should see what we’re about to do.”
His cock was hardening by the second, blood rushing to his groin.
He helped his jeans on their way by shoving at them. His cock sprang free.
Impatience got the better of him. He was in no mood for teasing either of them tonight.
She was breathing fast, her hands up the back of his shirt and roaming his shoulders.
He cupped the base of her spine and dragged her closer, onto his cock. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She did as he’d asked, and his cock slipped in.
He didn’t wait, he drove to full depth, giving them both what they needed. Connection. Closeness. Satisfaction.
“Ahh…” She clung to him.
His whole body tensed. It was an effort not to give in to primal urges and just fuck. But he wanted her to come. He wanted her to feel with her body that he’d only ever want her. There was no one else, there never would be.
“Fuck me,” she gasped, her nails sinking into his flesh. “Fuck me, live out your fantasy.”
He caught her mouth in another wild kiss, his resolve slipping.
He thrust harder, and the heavy counter shifted, the metal legs scraping on the hard tiled floor. He ignored it.
She was meeting him, canting her hips with each plunge and grinding her clit against his body.
“You feel too good,” he groaned. “I can’t…”
“Then don’t.” She dropped her head back, exposing her neck.
He dragged his tongue over it. The sensation of her on his taste buds had his cum simmering in his balls. He needed to release. It was almost there.
He upped the pace, knowing they were being wild, feral, but not caring. There was only one goal—satisfaction—and they had to get there soon.
“Oh, Raul… I’m…now…”
Her words were a signal to his cock, and he blasted through his climax. Ecstasy shot around his body, over his nerves, through his veins. She joined him, her pussy clamping his shaft and the heated wetness of her release gripping him.
“Oh God,” she wailed, her nails creating heated crescents of pain as they sank into his back. “Yes!”
He groaned, the final throe of his orgasm creating a full body tremor. He was tense, hard, as deep as he could be in his beautiful wife.
“Oh that’s good,” she said, breathlessly. “Raul.”
“Mmm.” He cradled the back of her head and drew her face to his.
“Was that…your fantasy?”
“And more.” He kissed her, holding her close, her pussy still spasming around his shaft. “You’re everything and more that I’ll ever need.”
“And the restaurant?”
“It’s a side interest.” He was breathing fast. “It scratches an itch, but real life is on the station. With you…the kids…and the guys.”
“Your side interest is a big success.”
“Not as big as my love for you, for our life together.”
She slipped her hands from his shirt and held his face. Her kiss told him she felt the same. Their love was strong, passionate, and would last a lifetime. No one else would ever come between them.
Chapter Five
EVAN
Evan rolled over, his waking mind registering the light in the room and the cool air conditioning chilling the air above the sheets.
There was a subtle movement on the mattress beneath him, and a soft breathy sound coming from his right. He flicked his eyes open, blinked as he focused, then enjoyed a rush of warmth from his belly to his cock.
Olivia was lying close. Harry was propped on his elbow looking down at her, studying her face.
Her pretty rosebud lips were parted, her eyes a little glazed and her cheeks flushed. She was panting softly, her right palm planted on Harry’s cheek. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” Harry murmured. “I won’t.”
Evan’s cock stirred. It was clear Harry had his hand between her legs, his fingers inside her, and was driving their wife to a sweet morning orgasm. He leaned across and kissed her brow.
“Evan,” she gasped, her attention flicking to him. “You’re awake.”
He smiled, stretched upward, and kissed Harry’s cheek. Harry’s dark stubble scratched his lips.
Harry grinned, one of his dirty, cocky smiles that added heat to Evan’s cock.
“She’s nearly there,” Harry said.
“Mmm… I am…” Olivia groaned and fluttered her eyes shut. “Oh God…yes…”
Evan stroked her right breast—the sheet had slipped, and he tugged her nipple to a point.
“Harry, I’m…”
“I know, Liv. I know, let it take you.” Harry’s shoulder and biceps were tense, the muscles flexing as he fingered her.
Seeing them intimate together was a perfect way to start the day. Evan adored watching the two sexiest people on the planet pleasuring each other. It was off-the-scale hot, and it made his dick ache in a deliciously good way.
Olivia groaned again.
Harry upped the pace.
Evan watched on, knowing she was seconds away from coming. Sweet gasps mingled with her moans, and she thrashed her head from left to right.
Then she froze, mouth open and her hand moving from Harry’s cheek to hover midair, fingers splayed.
Harry’s eyes danced with excitement. The mattress jiggled with his movements.
And then she came, her shoulders curling forward, she gripped Harry’s hair. “Oh…oh…”
“That’s it,” Harry said. “Come for me.”
She cried out, but Harry caught the sound in a kiss.
Evan gripped his own cock and squeezed the hard shaft. His wife was beyond beautiful when she climaxed.
Harry stayed with her, pushing her pleasure onward and upward, his strong body perfectly in tune with hers.
Evan’s heart rate picked up. His belly tightened, and his balls tingled.
“Oh, that’s it,” Olivia gasped, arching her neck on the pillow. “Harry…”
Harry threw another grin Evan’s way, then ducked and kissed below her ear, trailing his lips over her marriage necklace then into the hollow of her throat.
Gradually, he slowed his movements, bringing her down from her high.
She was breathing fast, a sheen of sweat glistening on her brow.
Evan smoothed her silken hair back from her head, admiring the way the morning sunlight, peeking around the curtains, gilde
d it golden.
“Harry,” she said breathlessly, then turned to Evan. “Evan.”
“Good morning, beautiful,” Harry said, finding her mouth.
She kissed him back, her features delicate next to Harry’s. It always amazed Evan that despite her size, Olivia had such strength, physically and emotionally. She was a strong, determined, independent woman, and they were lucky to have her.
Just as he was lucky to have Harry, too.
Harry broke the kiss, then dropped onto his back, his head sinking into the soft pillow.
“That was one hell of a good morning,” Olivia said on a giggle.
“Are you complaining?” Evan asked.
“Hell no.” Beneath the sheet, she reached for his hand. Her eyes widened when she realized he was stroking his cock.
He grinned. Would she be up for some more fun before the day started? Another orgasm or two?
“Mmm,” she said. “Someone enjoyed the show.”
“What’s not to enjoy?” He leaned in and kissed her, releasing his cock so she could grip it.
He groaned as her small fingers wrapped around his shaft and stroked him slowly from root to tip.
Knock. Knock.
“Really? Now?” Evan muttered onto her lips.
Knock. Knock.
“Evan, I need that hielaman for my school project on Aboriginal history.” Amal’s voice came through the door.
“Damn,” Evan muttered. “I forgot about that.”
“Where is it?” Olivia asked.
“In the attic somewhere.” His heart sagged at the thought of going into the attic. There were parts of it that hadn’t been cleared when the house had been revamped. Which had its good aspects, it meant some of his childhood things— artifacts he’d collected during his time on walkabout with his Aboriginal friend, a few school books, childhood photos—were still there.
“Okay, buddy,” Harry called. “Evan will get it for you.”
“I have to go to school now.”
Evan glanced at the bedside clock. “Not for twenty minutes. Go pack your bag, and I’ll find it.” He groaned and kissed Olivia. “Not quite enough time for you to do anything with what you’ve got in your hand.”
She smiled and kissed him. “Are you sure?” She rubbed him again.
Blood filled his cock. But he didn’t want a fast release, and besides, it wouldn’t be fast, not now he had something else he needed to do.
“Hold that thought.” He wriggled from her grip. “And we’ll come back to it later.”
“Do you promise?” she asked, sighing and throwing her arms over her head. She stretched, arching her back, her breasts jutting upward.
Harry’s gaze slid over her body.
Evan grinned. “Yeah, I promise.”
The three of them were so in tune, so at ease together. Life was good.
Reluctantly, he left the bed. But before dragging on his clothes, he went to the window and threw back the curtains.
The station stretched before him, the rising sun bathing the ochre land in heat. To his right he spotted Mason and Lucas saddling up. They were heading out to check on the sheep.
Darius was on the deck, in his school uniform, and practicing a kata. He had a big karate tournament in Perth coming up and worked at his routine every moment he had spare. Evan admired his son’s commitment and talent. At thirteen, Darius was turning out to be a fine young man. A son they could all be proud of.
“Nice view,” Harry said from the bed.
Evan chuckled. He could feel the heat of Harry’s attention on his naked ass.
“I second that,” Olivia said.
Another wave of love tugged on his heart. Sometimes Evan feared it would burst with happiness. It was a far cry from the feelings he’d had to bear in this house when he was growing up. Then he’d been ruled with fear, not affection. Each day had dawned with the threat of violence, not love.
Now they all worked hard to make sure it was a home filled with only love and laughter.
He turned and reached for his boxers, dragged them on, then added a pair of faded khaki shorts.
As he headed across the bedroom, Olivia slipped from the bed, gloriously naked, and tugged clothing from a stack of drawers.
“I should go and make sure the twins have their school bags,” Harry said. “Raul will create them a Michelin Star lunch, but they won’t take anything else they need for the school day.”
“I won’t be long with that shield for Amal,” Evan said.
“Sure thing.”
Five minutes later, Evan was in the dusty old attic. The house was huge, which meant the rafter space was, too. It held heat—heat from days and days of relentless sunshine—and the air was oven-hot.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, staring at a huge pile of boxes, the contents of which he had no clue.
Holding on to a beam, he carefully stepped past a square of ceiling that had a set of cables running over it. He had a rough idea where the shield was but knew he wouldn’t put his hand straight on it. Still, it was cool to be able to give Amal something so unique to take into school for his project.
He wiped his forearm over his hot brow and stooped at a wooden chest he recognized from his childhood. He’d kept comics in it, or at least that was the impression it gave, because it had a false base. After opening the lid, he lifted out a stack of crispy comics and set them to one side.
After he poked the right corner, the base lifted enough for him to ease one finger into it. He removed it and stared at the treasures.
A bone-handle knife. A painted boomerang he’d made himself. A snake skin. A necklace lined with crocodile teeth.
But no shield.
“Bugger.” He reached for the knife, twirled it into the air, then caught it. Its smooth handle and light weight was familiar. He wondered if he could still throw it as accurately as he once had.
After slipping it into a hook on his waistband, he put the comics away and dropped the lid.
“Where are you?” He stood, hands on his hips, and stared around. The last time he’d seen the shield he’d been packing to go to Melbourne to get his sailing qualifications. It was special to him, so he knew he’d have put it somewhere safe.
His line of sight fell on a small brown leather bag. He’d used that once, when he’d traveled to Perth with his mother to see her sister. Maybe he’d put it in there.
He crouched down and drew back the zip. Much to his delight, the small wooden shield stared up at him.
“There you are, beauty.” He grinned and picked it up, the image of his childhood friend’s face flashing in his mind. It had been a gift after their long walk south. He’d have to make sure Amal was careful with it.
Evan was about to close the bag again when a glint of steel caught his attention. He reached in, felt the coolness of metal and hard leather, then tugged out a long, studded belt.
His belly tightened, and a rush of nausea swarmed up his gullet.
He held the belt high, a bombardment of memories attacking his mind.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, not wanting to hold the belt, or even look at it, but frozen in place and stuck with the horrible object in his hand.
‘I’ll teach you for not listening to instructions, boy.’
His father’s voice rang in his ears.
‘This is what you get for telling me how I can and cannot speak to your mother.’
Evan winced, remembering the sting of the leather on his flesh and the bite of the studs as they sank deep, often drawing blood.
His father had been a cruel man, and going to an early grave had been too good an end for him.
On the right side of Evan’s waist, very faint now, were a row of five small dots. They’d been caused by this belt. They’d scarred because he’d run away after that particular beating, gone on a long walk, sleeping under the stars, providing food for himself with his knife, and searching out water the way his friend had shown him. But the injuries had become infected, it had taken
them a long time to heal, and they’d stayed to tell the story of his father’s temper.
He ran his finger over them, remembering how he’d used his knowledge of bush medicine and treated them with a tea tree paste. He couldn’t have gone to the doctor, for there would have been questions—questions he wasn’t prepared to answer for fear of being taken away and leaving his mother to cope on her own.
“Father, I swear I will hate you beyond eternity,” he muttered, rolling up the belt and shoving it in his pocket. He didn’t want it in the house. It held bad vibes and bad luck.
With a slightly shaky breath, he turned and headed for the entrance of the attic.
“Evan!”
“Yes, Amal.”
“I have to go now.”
“It’s okay.” He peered down through the hatch. “I’ve got it. Here, can you catch?”
“Sure.”
Evan carefully lined the small shield up with Amal’s outstretched hands. “Don’t drop it.”
“I won’t.”
Evan released it, and the shield fell neatly into Amal’s grip.
“Thank you.” Amal grinned and turned it over to admire it. “My school friends will wish they had one like this.”
“Be careful with it. It was given to me by someone special.”
“I will. Promise.”
“Good boy. You’d best get going.”
“Yes, Raul is waiting.”
“Amal!” Olivia called. “Have you got it?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“So come on, you’ll make everyone late.”
“I am now.” He waved at Evan then disappeared.
Evan smiled. The sounds of the house, this last minute before the school run, always soothed him despite the frantic nature of it. It was as if his children and their happy childhood could erase his miserable one.
But what if they can’t?
He clenched his fists. Closed his eyes, but opened them again when his father’s mean, ugly face hovered before him.
He tutted, checked the knife at his waist, then dropped down from the hatch. He really should get a ladder organized, then he wouldn’t have to scramble up and jump down.
Maybe one day.
The car engine was revving, and he went to the window in time to see Olivia ushering the twins into the car and Banna racing from the house, her hair in a long plait flying behind her and her skirt looking shorter than usual.