Page 31 of Shelter for Martina

And work it he did. He lapped at her, licked it, sucked it into his lips, teased it with his teeth, and then worked around it as she begged him to touch it again. God, he loved teasing her! Even more than that, he loved how vocal she was. Words weren’t spared, and she alternated between begging him for more and begging him to slow down, asking him to hurry and give it to her, and asking him to back off and let her enjoy it. That unruly head of dark hair, the one he fought every day, was put to good use when she wrapped her fingers in it and pulled while he drove her crazy with his mouth. He tried every move he knew and every one was rewarded with her cries of ecstasy.

When he’d driven her as far as he thought he could, he set out to drive her wild, and in seconds, she was screaming and shaking, begging him to make it last, but Bud had done enough of that. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists and held them as he gave her one final flick over the edge.

Her belly spasmed, her back bowed, and she shook all over, screaming out his name, but he wouldn’t turn loose of her arms, and she thrashed and bucked, begging him, “Oh, god, Albert! Please! Oh, god, please! Please, Albert, please!”

When he finally stopped, he released her wrists and wondered what she’d do. Clawing and grasping for him, she beckoned him up her body until he was above her. Those beautiful lips were parted as she panted to regain her breathing, and when he smiled down at her, he asked, “How was that?”

His hardness throbbed when she dipped her head, glared up at him from under her brows, and snarled, “I need your cock in me. Fuck me, Albert. Please? Now.”

Every inch of his body went on red alert as he braced himself above her and forced his way in. In truth, there wasn’t much forcing—she was so wet that it took no effort at all to breach her entrance, and in seconds, he was pounding her, listening to her cry out and urge him on. Albert had never experienced anything so raw before, and he hadn’t realized what he was doing until he found himself on his knees, bouncing her on his cock, watching her breasts heave and tremble with the effort of taking him over and over. She’d leaned backward, her hands planted on the wall above her head, and he leaned in and grabbed a nipple with his teeth, pulling it outward until she cried out again.

“God, babe, your tits look amazing. I could fuck you all night,” he heard himself snarl, and thought how unlike himself that was. But he didn’t care. Her wantonness brought out something in him, something he’d reined in years before. He didn’t want to be that guy anymore. He wanted to fuck her hard, to make her come over and over, to hear her cry out, and to be the man who commanded her body and held her heart in the palm of his hand. All he’d had before was sex. This was art. It was powerful. It was life-changing. Bud felt twenty-five again, like he could conquer the world when that woman was in his hands.

As she bounced on his cock, she murmured, “Fuck me, Albert. Fuck me. Fuck me, Albert, over and over. Yeah, I love it. It’s so good, your big cock is so good, Albert. Yeah, fuck me harder. I want it, harder and faster. Yeah, baby.” Between phrases she’d gasp, or lick her lips, or give him a smile that told him she was loving every minute of it, and he was hard, god, he was hard. He’d never felt so powerful, so virile, so in control. “Oh, god, babe, I’m gonna, yeah, um, yeah, I’m gonna… Oh, god, Albert! Yeah!” He felt her clamp down hard on his cock, every muscle in her pussy milking him, and he couldn’t hold back another second.

He emptied into her violently with a pressure so powerful that it felt as though it were being ripped from his balls, white hot and spicy. Grasping her waist, he powered into her another five or six times, making sure he was emptied, that there was nothing left to give her before he’d let her go. When he finally stopped, she opened those beautiful lips and let out a roar, something primal and fierce, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg her to never, never leave him, to never turn loose, to never walk away.

Before he could make sense of everything and pull himself together, she threw herself forward until she was upright and wrapped her arms around his neck as he knelt there, still holding her on his softening cock. Her lips found his and she locked herself to him, and in that moment, AlbertGriffin fell and fell hard. He was terrified and ecstatic, and he didn’t know what came next, but he wanted whatever it was to be with her, not without her.

And when she broke the kiss, her arms still tight around his neck, she pressed her nose to his, smiled, and said, “I love you, Albert.”

The tear that rolled from the outside corner of his left eye was pure joy. “I love you too, Martina. I want you to be mine.”

“And I want you to be mine. I don’t ever want this to end.”

“Neither do I. Stay here with me?” She nodded. When a tear rolled down her face too, Bud asked, “Are you okay?”

She began to cry and he feared what she was about to say until she asked, “Is it wrong that in the middle of one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me, I’m also the happiest I’ve ever been? What’s wrong with me? Am I a bad person?”

“No, baby. I think it’s pretty spectacular that in the middle of something that’s ripping your heart out, you’ve found somebody to help you mend it.” He kissed her forehead gently and wrapped her up in his arms. They sat there like that, him kneeling, her astride him, and his softened manhood inside her, their mingled essences bonding them, until she’d stopped crying. Then he gently picked her up, laid her on the bed, and crawled under the covers with her to hold her all night.

He had to find Renita. He had to put an end to Martina’s nightmare. He loved that woman, and he never wanted to see her cry again.

Chapter 5

They spentthe next evening going through the house, looking for things that could be dangerous to the little ones. He put child-proof latches on the lower cabinet doors and those crazy grippy things on the doorknobs. They also converted one of the bedrooms to a combination nursery and toddler’s room. By the time the weekend came, the house was ready for Annie and Gabby. They spent Saturday testing all their preparations and discovered they’d done a pretty good job. Nobody died or even got hurt. Bud thought that was a win.

But Sunday was the Day of Reckoning. By one o’clock, Riley, Dimitri, and Critt were pulling into the driveway, and five minutes later, Blake, Maeve, and the two girls were piling out of the van. Martina was almost paralyzed with fright, even though Bud had told her it would be fine.

Sure enough, he introduced them all and in ten minutes, Riley and Maeve were in the kitchen helping Martina while the guys stood around the grill outside, watching the kids. Maddie had made herself the self-appointed mother hen of the group, and she was helping Annie, Gabby, Critt, and Sammie feed the miniature horses. “Pappaw, we don’t got no more carrots,” she announced after ten minutes.

“Maddie! That’s not proper!” Blake called out to her.

“Pappaw, we don’t have any more carrots,” she tried again.

“Much better, young lady,” her daddy called back.

“I think I’m out, sweetheart. We’ll get them something after dinner, okay?” Bud yelled out to her.

“Okay.” The men watched as she shepherded the rest of the kids over to the swing set Bud had put up the year before.

“You guys doing okay?” Blake asked his dad.

“Yeah. Great, actually. I think we’re really compatible, and we enjoy each other’s company,” Bud answered with a smile.

“Everything going okay, well, you know?” Blake asked.

Bud stood there for a minute, not quite believing his son. “Are you asking about the bedroom?”

---