She trembles violently, hands clutching the counter so tight her knuckles pale. Her head drops forward as her body adjusts around the fullness—my cock claiming her from behind whilemy fingers circle her clit, coaxing her open, guiding her through it.
When I’m fully inside—buried to the hilt, surrounded by every trembling inch of her—I wrap my arm around her front and take her throat gently in my hand. I pull her back against me, her spine flush to my chest, her hips held in place by my grip. My other hand keeps working her clit in slow, mesmerizing circles.
Her entire body becomes a single trembling line of pleasure—tense, shaking, overwhelmed in the most perfect way. “Cal… Cal—oh my God?—”
I start to move—deep thrusts that rock through both of us, my fingers matching every snap of my hips in a rhythm that drives her higher and higher. Her breath breaks first. Then her voice. Then her body.
She comes undone violently—her orgasm hitting so hard it rips a cry out of her that fills the room. Her entire body convulses, her ass squeezing me tight, her thighs trembling uncontrollably, her pussy fluttering wildly against my fingers. In the reflection—barely visible but unmistakable—I see her arch, see her legs buckle, see her entire body surrender to pleasure that looks like it’s tearing her apart.
And that sight… That sight destroys me. My spine tingles. My cock throbs deep inside her. My balls tighten hard, the pressure hot and primal. I groan into her shoulder as I come—thick pulses spilling deep into her ass, my grip tightening around her throat just enough to keep her upright as pleasure drags through me in a slow, consuming wave. Her body milks me, trembling around me even as her aftershocks ripple through her.
We stay like that for a few minutes longer—joined everywhere, breath tangled, hearts racing in the same bruised rhythm—while the world outside us goes still. She tilts her head back, seeking my mouth, and I kiss her—deep, slow, reverent. I keep myself inside her, holding her close, giving us both this moment before reality pulls her away tomorrow. Just a few more minutes. Just us. Just like this.
47
PARKER
It’s been four days, going on five. I haven’t heard from the guys since two days ago when Cal texted a brief update:Found two more of Ryan’s recruits. Handling it. Boys okay?
I’d responded with a photo of Noah and Liam on the beach, building an elaborate sandcastle with Jimmy and Lottie, all four kids covered in sand and grinning. Cal sent back a single heart emoji.
That was forty-eight hours ago.
The silence is killing me.
Maria’s estate is beautiful—sprawling and elegant in a way that feels both luxurious and lived-in. The main house is a Mediterranean-style villa with whitewashed walls and terracotta roof tiles, situated on twenty acres of private coastline. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer views of the Atlantic from almost every room, and the interior is decorated in warm creams and blues that echo the sand and sea outside.
There’s a pool with a waterfall feature that the kids are obsessed with. A game room with every toy and activity imaginable. Aprivate beach with tide pools that reveal new treasures every time the water recedes. Stables with three gentle horses the children are learning to ride under careful supervision. Gardens that smell like lavender and rosemary. A greenhouse where Maria grows vegetables and herbs year-round.
It’s paradise.
And I’m going insane.
“Mom! Mom, look!” Liam comes running up from the beach, his swim trunks dripping water, his hair plastered to his head. “I found a hermit crab! A real one! Can I keep him?”
“Where is he?” I ask, crouching down to his level.
Liam carefully opens his cupped hands to reveal a small hermit crab, its shell decorated with barnacles, tiny legs waving frantically.
“He’s very cool,” I say, smiling despite the anxiety churning in my gut. “But hermit crabs need to live in the ocean with their families. How about we take him back to the tide pool and let him go home?”
“But I want to keep him,” Liam protests, his bottom lip jutting out.
“I know, baby. But sometimes we have to let things go back to where they belong, even when we want to keep them close.” The words feel heavier than they should.
Liam considers this, then nods. “Okay. But can we visit him? Like, come back to the tide pool tomorrow and see if he’s still there?”
“Absolutely.”
He runs back toward the beach, carefully holding his hermit crab, Noah and Jimmy racing after him to see what he found.
I watch them go, these four children who look so much alike it’s almost uncanny. All four with similar builds, similar coloring, cousins who could easily pass as siblings.
“They’re having the time of their lives,” Sienna says, appearing beside me with two glasses of iced tea. She hands me one, settling into the Adirondack chair next to mine. “Jimmy was crying this morning because he doesn’t want to go home.”
“Lottie too,” I say, taking the tea gratefully. “Noah asked me if we could just live here forever.”
“Would that be so bad?” Sienna’s voice is teasing but there’s genuine curiosity underneath.
