Page 49 of Twisted Bonds
"Uh-huh." Beau moves just enough so that I can turn, and when I look up into those piercing green eyes, I'm instantly lost, my mind traveling back to our tiny apartment the morning he left to go help with the flooding.
The way he made love to me, and then fucked me, and everything else he did to me, resurfaces, and before I know it, I'm kissing him. He grabs the back of my head and holds it so I can't back out of the kiss. That's okay because I don't want to, not this time anyway.
Twenty-Seven
Beau
Running and grabbing the sandwiches from down the road doesn't take me long. I scoff at the thought of Ryan being surprised that I remembered what she liked. I remember every tiny detail about that woman from the time I met her. It's all burned into my memory, and it's what kept me going every damn day I was in that basement at my uncle's place.
Each time the cane came down on me, I would think of another memory with Ryan just to get through it. She doesn't realize the depth of the love that I have for her, but how could she when we didn't have much time together before she was taken away from me. I slam my hand down on the steering wheel as I cuss out my uncle—all of my uncles, really. The D'Angelos were also my uncles; they knew who I was when they came after Ryan. My family tree is full of sick and depraved psychopaths. I wouldn't blame Ryan if she didn't want to be with me because of that alone.
Ryan and my father being together is a different story, if she chooses to be with him over me. However, the way I feel about them being together is totally fucked up. I'm not as mad about it as I should be. On the one hand, I'm glad Ryan had my father to lean on and help her get through everything. She was right in saying that it was better to have my father, a well-known Dom, being the one to help her get through what she needed. Still, I'm so fucking mad at my father for being that person for her. He knew my feelingsfor her, which alone should have been enough to keep him away from her, yet I can't bring myself to hate him anymore.
As much as I try, and as much as I give him attitude, I still have the urge to hug him and thank him for being what Ryan needed. Without him, she could have found someone else and been with them. Of course, I still think about his actions leading up to these events, but what's done is done, and if Ryan can forgive him, I can at least try. No promises are being made; this does not mean I will accept it if Ryan wants to be with him. I will fight fire with fire because Ryan is mine.
Sighing, I climb out of the truck I've been sitting in for about ten minutes, trying to get my head straight before going inside. The house is quiet when I walk in, so I set the bag of food down on the coffee table in the living room and jog up the stairs.
I still hear the water running in the bathroom and worry seeps in. I'm relieved to hear her when I call out to her, but the crash that follows has me rushing in, not caring if she gets mad. She says she's fine, but one look at her face and I can tell she had been crying at some point.
It takes a lot of effort to dry her off; looking at her naked form but trying not to show that I'm noticing her beauty is really fucking hard. I haven't had sex in two years; I barely remember how it's supposed to be done. However, I remember what it was like with Ryan. She's very passionate in bed, and I'm afraid I'll disappoint her. This thought alone has any indecent thoughts of Ryan as I dry her off disappearing.
After riling her up by suggesting that she’d rather have someone else’s company, and bringing the feisty girl out of her, Ryan walks away butt-ass naked, her perfect ass swaying back and forth as she does. I follow her while adjusting my junk, but when I see her standing there looking through her drawers, I can't help myself. I walk up behind her and press my body against hers, not caring if she feels how hard I am.
There has got to be something wrong with me. Even knowing that she fucked my father not that long ago—I still want her. Maybe it's just me wanting to mark my territory, except I'll be marking her with something other than piss. Sorry, but I'm not into urophilia—golden showers are not my thing.
"You're still so fucking perfect, Ryan," I tell her as I run my hands up over her hips and then squeeze slightly.
Telling her I just want to appreciate her body isn't a lie. Even though I want nothing more than to bury myself in her warmth, I should really work myself up privately until I'm ready for that again. I tell her how much I've missed her as I nuzzle her neck and cup her breast. She rests her head against me, enjoying my touch. I know she's enjoying it when she moans as I tweak her nipple while she tells me she's missed me, too.
I suggest to her that we go downstairs and eat our food, but stepping back to allow Ryan to turn around is a bad mistake. The next thing I know her mouth is on mine, and I'm here for it. I cup the back of her head to hold her to me until I'm done tasting her. My girl still tastes as I remember, she tastes like Ryan—like home.
Her back hits the dresser as I move closer to her. I don't dare move us toward the bed. I just need a little taste. At least, that's what I initially thought, but feeling her naked body against mine has me losing my mind. My hands are going to her ass, and I'm lifting her, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist. Her little moans are driving me crazy, but still, I don't move us from where I stand.
Instead, I grip her ass and pull her heated core against my bulging package, moving her so her sweet cunt rubs up and down on me. I won't last long like this, but she doesn't have to know. Making her come is all that matters.
"Come on, baby. It's been so long—come for me."
She gives me a long moan as an answer and then begins to help rub her core on me. God damn, I wish I could plunge right into her. I want to bury myself deep and fill her with my baby batter. Life is too fucking short, and we have to take what we want when we have the chance. Yeah, I say that now, but who is the one dry humping the love of his life against the dresser?
"Oh, God…" Ryan breathes, pulling her head back, just to possess my lips again a second later.
As her moans come faster and I rub her harder, I tear my mouth away so I can watch her. I do all that I can not to pre-ejaculate. I look at her swollen lips. "Come for me, Ryan. Give me what I need. Do you feel how hard my cock is for you right now? This is all for you—never anybody else. Now, be a good girl and come."
It's like she was waiting for those two little words before she could let go. She probably was since "Good Girl" is favored by many subs. They love this praise, so I’ve heard. I asked my father once what he meant when hesaid it to a lady friend that he had over one night. He had explained to me that some women need to hear it to make them feel like they have pleased their master or dominant. Submissives strive to be their best.
"Oh…Beau…I’m so close!"
"That's it, baby—let it go. Get me nice and dirty with your sweet arousal."Fuck!When she comes, I have no other choice--I come, too.
I let her ride it out with her being none the wiser. The moment my cock starts deflating, I'm setting her down on her feet. Keeping my hands on her hips until she's steady, I then reach around her and grab her a pair of panties from the drawer she was rummaging in. I squat down and help her to put them on as she holds onto my shoulders.
Once I have the flimsy fabric pulled up, I pat her on her ass and grin. Without thinking about it, I pull my shirt over my head and push it down over hers saying, "I've always loved seeing you in my t-shirts."
The pink that creeps into her cheeks when I say this is amusing. It's like she's young again, and I've just made her come for the first time. When her eyes dip down to my crotch, she looks back up with a raised brow. "Are you sure you don't want me to take care of you?"
Oh, no, she just didn't!
With a lopsided grin, I step back. "Nah. I'm good. Why don't you go down and eat your sandwich? I'm going to shower, and then I'll be down."
