Page 32 of Red Flag Bull

“If they can’t appreciate you, then they don’t deserve you.” He strokes my hair before kissing the top of my head. “Don’t ever beg for love that comes with conditions.”

“Can I beg for your love?” I whisper against his strong chest.

He keeps his lips press to my hair, but he doesn’t answer right away. My scalp warms every time he exhales, and I count twenty-seven breaths before he finally says, “I don’t know yet.”

I nod as best I can in my tight confines. It’s not a no. And I can trust that he’s thinking about it. “That’s fair.”

He grunts softly, lifts me into his arms, and takes me up the stairs. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I’m safe and cared about, even if I still have sins for him to forgive.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but I love you without conditions, Jason King,” I say quietly, as he carries me to his kitchen. “And for the record, your babies are the only ones I’ve ever wanted to have.”

13

JASON

Mandi fucking Warren.

I have got to stop gazing into her eyes. They weaken my willpower, and I get so lost in there, they’ll be my undoing. It’s not like Google maps can fucking tell me how to get out.

I turn her around. Bend her over the kitchen counter. Slide her jeans back down her pink ass.

She’s pliable. Lets me do anything I want. Looks back over her shoulder at me in awe, ready to do my bidding, like I’m her fucking hero. The man who wanted to paddle her ass till it was raw. The asshole who would punish her for doing a selfless thing, like becoming someone’s surrogate.

“Eyes forward,” I growl.

She obeys, and I lower my attention to the marks I gave her. I press a cool cloth to her swollen pussy, and she hums softly.

“Quiet,” I command, when my hard cock strains and the wet patch on my boxers grows. “I’m thinking.”

About how fucking badly I want to empty my aching balls inside you. How I want to keep you chained to my bed, until your belly is round with my child.

I wanted that once. Badly. I’ve been convinced for the last two decades that I didn’t, but I realize now that I just didn’t want babies with anyone else.

And hearing her say she only wants my mine? Fuck. I want to fuck one into her right now. I want to break through any physiological barriers and force her body to adapt for my child. My children.

She’s already had a baby inside her that wasn’t mine.

I grit my teeth.

It wasn’t hers, either.

I unclench my jaw and reach for a rinsed organic grape from the bowl next to her. She likes green grapes best. Their skins don’t make her face twist, like the purple ones do. She likes them firm, cool, and crisp, like the ones I always keep a stock of in my fridge. Waiting for her, it would seem, considering I don’t eat them. I just keep them around for the memories. A tangible symbol of the ghost who’s haunted me all these years. Strange, that I could never let go of a girl who’d already slipped through my fingers.

But here she is, in the flesh, ready to make more magical moments.

I lift the cold cloth from her pussy and drape myself over her, molding around the size and shape of her, so my body can believe she’s real. I nestle my barely contained erection against her bare slit, press closer, hold a grape to her lips, and slowly push it inside her mouth.

She takes it at my leisure and strokes my finger with her tongue when I extract it.

Everything she does is an invitation. Use me, Jason. Think of me as a collection of holes, made for your pleasure. As if that’s all she is.

I didn’t show her any different, I suppose. She was a beautiful girl, and I was young and in love with fucking. I thought I’d have a lifetime of spoiling her and training her to accept the best treatment, but I was mistaken. If I’d known I would only get one summer with her, I’d have spent every second making sure she understood how perfectly kind and sweet and loving she was. How worthy of love. I’d have shown her every day that she had unlimited potential. That she didn’t need to do what was expected of her, if her heart was set on something different. I would have nurtured the artist she kept bound and gagged inside her soul. I… I should have stolen her more paint than I did.

I should have held on to her more tightly.

She takes another grape from me, and I rock my covered cock against her naked heat, until she’s soaked my boxers more than I have. I reach for one of the cool grapes and slip it into her juicy cunt. I push it deeper, as she moans, and then add another. And another. Counting as I go. Eight. Nine.

I re-familiarize myself with the feel of her, as she accepts each new grape with a restless whimper. Her pussy doesn’t gape, but it has more give than I remember. Taking my fat cock all summer got her well broken in, all those years ago, but she’s had a baby now. I thought that a snugger fit would’ve turned me on more, but there’s something about knowing she bore fruit and that she’s been that stretched… I want her to fucking stretch around my kid’s fat fucking head, damn it.

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