“Come for me, Dyl,” I growl, gripping her hips as I thrust up hard into her. “Soak my cock with your cream.”
Her body seizes as she cries out, her pussy clamping down on me in waves. I thrust a few more times as her body trembles before I let go. My orgasm hits like a freight train and I holdher close while my cock jerks inside her, shooting hot streams of cum.
We stay like that for a moment, her body wrapped tightly around mine as we try to catch our breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through us. I hold her close, feeling every inch of her, knowing I can never get enough.
One day, I hope we put a baby inside of her. Far in the future, after we’ve finished school and we’re established. I plan on having lots of fun before becoming a father.
“I can never say it enough, but I love you, Ford.”
“I love you too, Dyl. Today, tomorrow, forever.” With those words, she lifts off me and I watch my cum slide down her legs. Thankfully, I packed a hand towel. I reach inside the basket and pull it out. “Lie down and let me clean you up. Then, as much as I hate it, we should probably get dressed.”
I make sure to wipe the white liquid from her thighs before running the cloth through her folds, collecting my seed. She stands once I’m done and quickly puts her clothes back on while I clean myself and do the same.
“I’m starving.” Dylan’s stomach picks that moment to growl.
“Well, it’s a good thing I brought food then. Let’s sit down and let me feed you before you have to turn into Cinderella and run off into the night.”
College can’t get here soon enough.
Chapter 16
Dylan
The moment I step into the house from my run, tension grips me like a vise. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts from the kitchen, but it doesn’t calm my nerves. My mother’s voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the space like she owns every inch of it, as if her very presence controls the air I’m breathing.
“Dylan, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I just got back from my run,” I call back, sliding my sneakers off and setting them by the door before heading in the direction of her voice. “Come to the kitchen, we need to talk about the wedding,” she says, not even bothering to glance up from the bridal magazine she’s flipping through to see I’m already here.
“I’m here.”
“Oh, good. I have an update on the big day with Gideon. It’s so exciting!” She smiles, but her eyes look smug. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know something is up.
I feel the weight of her words drop into my stomach like a rock. My pulse quickens as I grip the back of the kitchen chair, trying to steady myself. My body goes rigid, bracing for whatever bombshell she’s about to drop this time.
“What is it now?” I ask, barely able to mask the exhaustion in my voice. It feels like we’ve had this same conversation a thousand times—her pushing, me resisting, always circling the same issue.
“We’ve moved the date of the wedding,” she says, flipping another page as if this change is insignificant. “It’s going to be August tenth.”
Her words hang in the air like a noose, tightening around my throat. I freeze, my fingers digging into the chair until my knuckles turn white. My heart drops into my stomach, leaving me breathless, like someone has just punched me in the gut.
No. She didn’t just say that. She couldn’t have.
“What?” My voice trembles, barely loud enough to hear over the pounding in my ears.
She lets out an exasperated sigh, as if I’m being difficult on purpose. “The wedding,” she repeats, slow and deliberate, like I’m some child who can’t understand simple things. “We’ve moved it up to August tenth.”
“That’s my move-in day at CSU. You know that,” I tell her, barely controlling my breaths as anger surges through me.
“I didn’t think it would be an issue. You’ve been having doubts, haven’t you?”
Doubts? Is she seriously trying to rewrite history now? My throat tightens with fury, my hands trembling as I stare at her, unable to comprehend how she can be so cruel, so manipulative. Every decision I’ve made in the past year has led me to this moment—moving to CSU, majoring in sports medicine, and chasing my dreams. And now, she’s shattering it, as if my lifeis just another detail to rearrange in her perfect little bridal fantasy.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You didn’t… You didn’t actually do this. Please, tell me this is a joke.”
Her gaze hardens, and she straightens her spine, that familiar superiority bleeding into every inch of her posture. “Dylan, don’t be dramatic. We need you there for the wedding. It’s what’s important right now.”
Important to who?The thought screams through my mind, but I can’t find the courage to say it out loud. Instead, I stare at her, my vision blurring with a mix of rage and hurt. “You did this on purpose,” I whisper, my voice trembling with accusation.
