She laughs. “They are, but they’re also hungry.”
“Hungry for what?” My voice drops to a low, husky drawl.
More laughter from her. “For booty. They’re hungry for booty.”
“And I’m hungry for you. I love you, Sorrow. Be mine.”
She opens her eyes, and with a smile on her face, Sorrow stretches her arms above her head. “Make love to me, Trace. I’m yours. I love you so much. Be my first.”
I will. And I’ll make sure I’m her last.
31
Sorrow
He helps me remove my clothes while keeping me warm with his body and the blankets over us.
“Warm enough?”
“Yes.” My heart is beating fast and so hard I’m afraid it’ll burst from my chest.
“Good, that’s good, baby.”
His voice trembles. Trace is just as nervous as I am, and all my insecurities come to light. Am I pretty enough? Do I still taste good to him down there? Will we fit? Will he think I’m lacking because of my inexperience?
Trace silences my insecurities with his mouth on mine. His kiss starts hesitantly, like it’s our first time. It’s not. We’ve shared all sorts of kisses since we moved into the guesthouse. Tender makeup kisses, then hurtful ones because they were done in anger and jealousy, his voice as he spoke to that girl in the bathroom taking up space in my mind.
I bit down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. He wiped it away, fisted my hair in his hand, and crushed my mouth with his.
I am his, and he is mine, and no girl or guy will come between us, ever. That was his promise as he destroyed my jealousy and anger with his mouth devouring mine in this all-consuming kiss. Then I surrendered, and he kissed me so thoroughly my toes curled.
Trace kisses me like that now, with utmost reverence as I surrender to the skill of his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, then the other, followed by his mouth on the little buds. His teeth scrape over the sensitive buds, one then the other, and I come off the truck’s bed.
“That feels so good, Trace.”
Trace trails kisses between my breasts and down to my navel. Palming my hips, he drops kisses on my stomach, and I see him on his knees, kissing my swollen belly—our children. We’ll have children together. I’m floating with that thought. I won’t hide my children. They’ll live in the open and be loved by their families, by their grandparents and all their cousins. And of course, their aunt, Isla, and their soon-to-be aunts, whatever their names may be.
He kisses my inner thigh. I shiver with need. He presses his face to my core, and I tremble with anticipation. He licks up my slit and sucks on my clit as my back arches. He is everything to me, and I love him so much.
“I love you, Trace Saints.” I reach for him and skim my fingers along his broad shoulders and down his arms. “Please make me yours.” My core aches. My heart is soaring above the stars. The frogs are croaking loudly. Smiling, I open my arms to him.
He moves his body up, and fisting his cock near my entrance, he slowly slides inside me, inch by thick inch. “That feels so good. You feel so good,” I say.
Trace said I’m patient. Usually I am, but not with this. I’ve waited my whole life for Trace Saints.
I tip my hips up at the same time I press him down to me with my hands on his tight ass. His erection breaks through my barrier. There’s stinging pain, but I can handle pain. What I want is the pleasure after the pain, like how he spanked me, then stroked me with his fingers in my pussy to a mind-blowing orgasm.
He rocks into me.
“Yes, that’s it. Please, Trace.”
He rocks harder. Goes deeper. “Fuck, baby. You’re tight, so fucking tight.”
I hold on to him. He’s my safe place. We’re safe. I’ve never been with a guy, and he got tested for me. Safety is important. So is not having an unplanned pregnancy. I’m on birth control. It’s not one hundred percent fool-proof, but it’s better than nothing.
We never want our future children to feel unwanted, that they’re a mistake. It’s what Kyle and Sarah Sophia said about me. That they shouldn’t have stolen me from my biological mother. I remember their arguments. Some of my memories are coming back and becoming more clear. It’s what Trace thought he was. He’s not. He is his parents’ miracle. I’m my father’s lost child, the one stolen from him. And we are all in our rightful places now. I’m exactly where I belong—in Trace’s arms.
I don’t lock down the feels.
