So I reached down, grabbing his erection, and I thrust again. The next time was a little harder, making sure I pressed upwards, stroking across his prostate. His dick swelled in my grip, and he gasped again, but that was it. Over and over, I tried to get that little grunt or groan from him, but the best I got was his panting breaths. Those he gave up easily.
"Ash..." he begged. "Fuck. I'm gonna..."
"Shh," I breathed, slowing down for a few strokes before moving a little faster again.
I had to watch him, because if I stopped to think about how he felt around me, I'd lose it. The sight of him was almost too much. The feel of him was amazing. This big, strong, proud man giving himself to me? It was more than I'd ever known I wanted. It made me want to give myself to him in return. It made me want to take my warped and twisted heart from my chest and press it into his hands, proving that it was his. Instead, I gave him my body, pumping into him again as I tried to show him how good he made me feel.
When his ass started to clench around me, I almost lost it. Pulling in a slow breath, I forced my body to wait, to hold off, and I used my hand to stroke him again. Unable to fuck him faster without making too much noise, I pumped him with my hand instead. Each time I thrust into him, I slid my fist over him twice, feeling his knees bang around my hips as the pleasure began to take control.
Then I finally got that sound I'd been working for. He groaned, clenching his jaw hard to muffle the low, primal sound, but it still found a way out. His back arched, his ass tensed, and then I felt his dick throb in my grip. I kept going, kept riding him through the pleasure even as ropes of his cum splattered on his belly, and then I felt my own release.
For a moment, nothing at all mattered except this moment. Buried inside him, rocking gently, every single nerve in my body felt like it exploded. My hand locked down on his dick, my hips began to tremble, and I forgot to breathe as my orgasm hit me. But the moment it let go, I flopped forward, barely getting my arm out of the way before I was lying flat across his chest.
And Luke wrapped his arms around me. We couldn't say anything because we were both breathing too hard, but we didn't need to. I could feel it. My heart slammed into my chest, feeling his beating just as hard against me, and all I wanted was to press my face against his neck.
"I fell so in love with you, cowboy," I mumbled against his skin.
"Mm," he murmured. "That's a damned good thing, because I love you too."
Chapter Seventeen
The next day started off nice and relaxed. Faith didn't want to go to school, but at least this time it had more to do with early mornings and less to do with her bullies. She also smiled when she saw Cy kiss my shoulder as he slipped past me. Considering that Ash and Luke were being a little extra cute this morning, I was starting to think that our girl might actually be ok with the mess we called a relationship.
That put me in a good mood as I headed in to tackle the list of potential contractors. First, I reached out to the cleaning company Emily worked for. She said they often took big contracts and were local - or at least they hired locally. I had to leave a message for the manager to contact me, but that was ok. Next, I started looking up the meal requirements for our students. There were dozens of companies that would deliver the necessary food. It looked like my bigger issue was storage.
Bit by bit, I had to juggle learning what was needed, figuring out how to make that aspect work, and then checking to see what we had and how it would compare. Half the time, I felt like I was chasing my own tail. For each thing I checked off my list, I added two more steps before I could call it complete, and yet we were making progress. Slow, steady, visible progress.
Faith sent me a text at lunch to remind me that I needed to eat. I thanked her for that, and told her to say hi to Zeke for me, and then got up to make something. I could hear Billy's voice in the guest suite talking to Darnell and Cessily. Probably going through all the drama that had happened since we got here.
I had a feeling that Billy would compare that to his own notes. While Darnell's security firm might have access to a lot, Billy's didn't have to worry about the legalities of what he got involved with. Hacking someone's email? That was normal for what he did. Even worse, he always had some flunky ready to take the fall if they got caught. Those were the sorts of favors he dealt in.
Throughout the day, people came in, went out, and tromped through the house. The flow was starting to feel comfortable. The front door was getting quite the workout, but it felt like this old place was alive again. This was the Southwind I remembered from my childhood. One that was noisy, busy, and always safe.
It was early afternoon when a knock at my open door made me look up. Billy stood there with a ball cap on backwards. His shirt was old and stained. His jeans were loose and faded. It was almost like the longer he was here, the more he was reverting to the boy I remembered from way back when. I couldn't help but smile.
"Well, hello, Billy Blankenship," I said, flicking a finger at him. "You got broader, but I don't think much else has changed."
He just turned his arm, showing off the full-sleeve tattoos. "No? I only had one of these when I showed up."
"Mhm," I agreed, my eyes jumping to his neck. "And it's not the same one you have now. That's a phoenix, right?"
"Reborn," he explained. "Yeah, had to cover up the swastika. Also wanted to make sure I could always show my color. Orange isn't exactly subtle, you know."
"I think that's why Gran gave it to you," I admitted. "A warning to the rest of us."
He stepped the rest of the way into my office. "Violet, I will never be a threat to the Shades of Trouble. Gran once told me that even villains are someone's superheroes. I just had to figure out who I was trying to save." He dipped his head at me. "I picked my family. My head might not be screwed on right, and my therapist hates that I won't take my drugs, but doing things for a reason feels a lot better than spinning out of control."
I heard that bit about his therapist, so had to ask, "What were you diagnosed with?"
"Psychopathy," he said, a cruel smile touching his lips for a split second before it vanished. "I don't feel things the same way you do. I don't give a shit who I destroy in the process. I do, however, like the idea of being a hero. It's a rush that nothing else can give." He moved even closer and leaned over my desk, bracing himself up with one hand so his face was right before mine. "I don't ever feel guilt or shame. Just not wired that way. That's what Gran figured out. She knew that she couldn't hold me back, so instead she pushed me forward. She dared me to keep up."
"And you did," I agreed. "If I ever get a kid like you, will you talk to me about it?"
Confusion swept across his features before he could get control of them. "Why?"
"Because psychopaths don't turn out like you, Billy. They go to jail - usually after hurting a whole lot of people."
"Oh, I hurt a lot of people," he assured me.
