She held on to Lucas’s hair, crying out as the next orgasm detonated, held on as Lucas dipped his head and his lips found hers, mouth greedy in its destruction of her. But she held on because that was all he was allowing her to do, hold the pieces of him. His hair, his tongue, his dick, while denying her the ability to hold onto her sanity.
“Yours, Stormy?”
He shifted the trajectory of his thrusts and hit that spot that made her body shatter, made it levitate, made her have an honest-to-goodness out-of-body experience as the orgasms deepened, grew faster, mounting one after the other, wave after wave setting her adrift as her mind struggled to process what was happening to her.
“Yours, Stormy?” Lucas demanded again.
She nodded, tears streaming into her ears.
Lucas’s pace increased, a hard, impossible, bone-crushing rhythm. And she screamed as the orgasm wouldn’t abate, mounted, her pussy contracting and releasing around his dick in desperation.
“Whose?”
“Yours,” she yelled out again and again, as he slammed into her.
Wrapping her arms around her shoulders she held him tight to her, held on to him until he finally let go, Bubba swelling, fusing against every part of her that he touched as he drenched the condom in liquid heat while Lucas’s roar filled her bedroom walls before he went lax, the weight of him pressing her deliciously into the bed.
Stormy closed her eyes and relaxed her hold on him.
“For right now…yours,” she mumbled before passing out, praying that her neighbors hadn’t called 911.
Lucas felt as powerless as a newborn babe.
It was as if the weight of the world had ground his flesh into extinction, only to remold him into a man content, a well-rested, well-loved-on man who didn’t need to exist beyond now, beyond Stormy’s warm bed.
Stormy.
He opened his eyes and his other senses engaged. It was an odd feeling to not wake up vigilant and partly aware of everything around him. It was downright disconcerting to know that Stormy had left the bed and he’d slept on, none the wiser. She could have shot him with his own gun and he never would have seen it coming, just been a bloody mess on her indecently comfortable bed.
Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around the pillow cushioning his head and listened as Stormy showered behind the closed door of the bathroom. Bubba didn’t even stir as he imagined her rubbing foamy white soap over all her soft cinnamon skin…
What thefuck!Sitting up, he pushed the covers down to see if Bubba was still there.
Oh, thank you, Jesus, he thought, heaving out a sigh when he saw a still-condom-wrapped Bubba sleeping peacefully against his thigh. Carefully he took the condom off, knotted it, and flung it into the trash basket on his side of the bed. Standing, he walked over to his boxers and put them back on and looked around the room, trying to figure out if he should wash up with Stormy or just leave. For all intents and purposes, he should leave. Lynx wouldn’t have anything to do with Stormy now, and there was never a time that he’d joined a woman in the bathroom unless they were having sex there.
Dragging his hand over his jaw, he felt two days of growth covering it. He may have rubbed the inside of Stormy’s thighs raw. He smiled.
A phone rang on the table on the other side of the bed, and he lunged over to pick it up, not ready for Stormy to be drawn back into the bedroom before he’d made his decision.
An image of a manicured dark-skinned man wearing an expensive charcoal suit and dove-gray dress shirt smiled from the display. Big Country hit thedeclinebutton. That slick fucker had better lose Stormy’s number or he’d wind up losing half the teeth in from his Colgate smile.
The phone buzzed twice, and Big Country read the incoming text.
Chad: Pulling up to the house. Will b @ the door in a sec.
Oh, the hell, Big Country thought, leaping off the bed and quietly making his way downstairs before the doorbell alerted Stormy to her ex’s presence.
Dressed in nothing but boxer shorts and his God-given strength of will, he unlocked the front door and flung it wide. Crossing his arms over his chest, he assumed his wide-footed stance, and stared at the approaching man in much the same way they’d taught little Bree to do the day before. Keeping his face neutral, despite the desire to smile in derision, he saw the little prick’s sure-footed steps falter when he gazed up from his phone and saw Big Country filling the doorway.
Yeah, this slick pretty fucker was gon’ have to go.
In the time that it took him to get down the stairs and to the door, Big Country had decided he didn’t want to end his time with Stormy, and he sure as shit didn’t want another man stepping in to derail his attempt to negotiate a mutually pleasurable agreement between them over the short- or long-term use of her body.
“I’m sorry.” The other man frowned, looking around him as if making sure he was at the right house. “And you are?” he asked with slight disdain in his refined, slightly accented English.
Big Country cocked his head to the side and looked at Chad as if he was something peculiar. As if good looks, expensive clothes, and articulate speech were the most unusual things in the world.
“You have exactly two seconds to tell me where my wife is before I call the police.”
