Page 19 of Whispers on the Mountain

His voice goes remorseful at the confession.

"I worked for them for two years before problems started and my colleagues began to disappear only to return in pieces."

I can't help the gasp. This was not a story I'd expected, even in the darkest of my scenarios.

Before I can say anything, August presses his lips to mine with a kiss designed to shush me.

"The company had made enemies that weren't the sort of people to confine their battles to the courtroom. We were taken over and my contract was due for renewal. The new leadership very much wanted me to stay on. I very much wanted to leave with my head attached."

"What happened? I mean-- you got out, obviously."

"But it took the US military's help and many weeks of investigation while it was determined whether or not I was a threat to national security. I spent a year with family in Italy before I it was safe to come home."

"At least you picked up the accent," I tease, drawing a finger along the side of his mouth.

"And I did learn the fine art of Italian swearing from my cousins while I was there." August kisses my fingertip and laughs gently.

"I was the age you are now when I took that job. That's how I know what foolish decisions we can make in our youth. I'm afraid that you will wake up one day and realize that I am nothing but a fantasy that is best left in your past.

"You will break my heart that day, fiore. You will leave me a broken man."

"I want to marry you and have a family with you, Augustus," I point out plainly, "that's a big difference from 'escaping terrorist overlords.' I think your odds are on this bet are way better."

He only gives me enough time to watch the smile spread across his lips-- the smile that takes his eyes with it, creasing those sexy crinkles at the corners, the smile that says he's not fighting me any more-- before he's on top of me, pinning me under his weight with his cock hardening against my thigh.

"I will give one year, fiore." Kiss. "One year to change your mind. If you haven't broken my heart by then, you will marry me." Another kiss. "You'll marry me on the hillside where I found you." Kiss. Slower, savoring. "When the wildflowers are in bloom again, on a day when the sun is shining as brightly as the faith you have in me."

Then he slides into me, this time asking a saint I've never heard of for strength to last till I stop screaming.

* * *

Augustus

Zephyr left the shower minutes ago, with my cum leaking out of her, saying something about breakfast.

Seeing as the only thing I ate last night was fiore's sweet pussy, breakfast is a promise that has me rinsing quickly and searching her bedroom floor for my clothes.

Underwear, pants, socks, and shoes are found but my shirt is nowhere among them.

Leaving the shoes and socks behind, I emerge from the bedroom to the sound of Zephyr arguing with a deep, male, voice that I recognize as her brother's.

"...because the only button-down shirts Hayle ever owned are all flannel, that's how."

"I'm twenty-three, Cane. Legal adult. Grown woman. In my own house. You're lucky I'm wearing anything at all. Maybe knock before you just let yourself in next time."

"You said you weren't coming back till we move you out of your place in Slow River next week. I thought I was supposed to water your damn plants."

"You saw August's car outside and thought you'd barge in here on one of your typical control-freak tirades. What are you going to do, Cane? Tell me I can't have sex in my own house?"

That-- does not bode well for my safety, and I strongly consider retreating back to Zephyr's room before I'm spotted by her brother. But this is a confrontation that has to be faced, even if I'd have preferred to do it under different circumstances.

Clearing my throat to announce my presence-- please don't let fiore taunt her brother with any more images of me defiling his baby sister, I would like to live-- I step into the big room that is both kitchen and living room to discover what has Cane so outraged.

Zephyr is wearing my shirt. Possibly, only my shirt. It hangs to her knees, she could easily add a belt and call it a dress, but perhaps she could consider doing one or two more of the buttons to cover the view of her generous breasts as they bounce with her movements.

Now is not the time for me to be focused on that, not with Hurricane Hart, former professional football player glaring at me.

"August says you've already met," Zephyr tells her brother. "Be nice to him, don't make your niece or nephew grow up without a father, Cane. It sucks, I know first-hand, remember?"

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