Page 63 of Bound by Desire
Moving down his body, I take his cock in my mouth, wrapping him up tight and giving a suck. His hips jerk and hands come to my hair. I take him in deeper, emitting a deep, guttural groan from him. Only then do I lift off and wrap him in therubber.
Back to straddling him, his cock needs no coaxing as I make my way down and he plants himself deeply inside me. Taking a moment to just feel his hardness inside of me, I close my eyes and stick it to memory. This feeling. This connection. This …everything.
He grips my hips hard, pulling me backtohim.
“Baby, ride my cock,” heorders.
On a sexy smile, I comply, using my thigh muscles to lift and lower repeatedly. The pressure inside builds. My hands unconsciously find my tits, squeezing them and pulling at the nipples, adding to the sensations already buildinginsideme.
Deke’s hips buck up, meeting mine, pressing his cock deeper and hitting inside of me hard. I cry out from the surprise of how far he canreach.
He pulls me down to him, wrapping his arms around my back and stilling my movements. Then he bends his knees, feet to the bed, and his hips take over, fast, hard, anddesperate.
I can’t move. I can only take what he gives me as he repeatedly thrusts into my body. Each scrape sends me higher and higher until the white rush of the orgasm has me screaming into his neck as a rush filters through every part of my body, includingmytoes.
Deke doesn’t let me come down. Instead, he flips us and fucks me until I can’t move, my limbs and arms feeling like satedjelly.
When he comes, his body strains on a grunt, all his muscles growing taut. He closes his eyes and swings his head back in the sexiest way. Gasping, he then falls off to the side of me, pulling me to him. I curl up, resting my head on his heavingchest.
“Fuck, you’reamazing.”
To this, Ismile.
ChapterSeventeen
Mom’s faceis sunken in, and she has deep bags under her eyes. Her face is so pale, ridding me of the sunshine that she always gives. She sips the soup with trembling hands from a coffee cup. She had chemo today. A drug they put in one’s body that’s more toxic than the cancer trying to take over her. But they need something strong to kick it, and this time, the drugs arehittinghard.
The first round she went through didn’t have this effect on her. The doctors said that would happen. It doesn’t mean I have tolikeit.
This second round is taking its toll. These past few weeks have been up and down, and I hate thisforher.
Her blonde hair is falling out—her reminder she’s fighting to stay here for my sister andmyself.
We’ve taken turns sitting with her, but I’ve taken over for my sister many times because she loses her battle on fighting back the sadness and tears. I get it, and I do it without herasking.
My father is a fucking mess. Not only am I in his house, but the love of his life is battling something he has no control over. One of the traits I got from him—the control—except mine came a little laterinlife.
“How’s your woman?” my mother asks, setting down the mug like it’s a lead weight, too heavy to hold a secondlonger.
“Good,Ma.”
When she shifts on the bed, I dart up, removing the tray that was holding her food and setting it on thedresser.
“She goodforyou?”
In a way I didn’t even know waspossible.
If I never came back to this place, I wouldn’t have landed in a bed next to a fucking bombshell like her. It’s not just looks, either. It’s her. Every damn thing about her. She listens when I need to talk. Talks when I need her to bounce me out of the thoughts in my head. She’s strong as all hell and can hold her own. The only thing I’ve noticed about her that even slightly irks me is she shifts a lot in bed. Once I learned that pinning her down with my body stops that, there hasn’t been anyproblems.
Hell, me laying all that shit on her, spilling my fucking guts wide open for her, she took it, held it, and let me keep going. Then she fucking asked me what she could do for me. Giving her my past, letting her have that, I knew in my gut she could take it. She didn’t cower away when I told her I watched someone get murdered, because she’s a woman who canhackit.
“Yeah, she is,” I say, coming back to sit on the recliner next to the bed. “You’ll like her.” And she would. Rylie is damnlikeable.
“I met her briefly. Princess says that she ‘kicks ass’.” My mother gives a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes in that twinkling way she does. “Said she trusts Rylie with more than the old guy. Says she’s a good woman, and that’s what I want for you, sweetheart. I want you to have someone you canrelyon.”
The tone of her words takes on a different meaning that is not lost on meonebit.
“You’re fightin’this,Mom.”
