Page 44 of Hideaway Whirlwind
“I don’t have a home,” I say, gripping the sides of his jacket instead of stopping him from unbuttoning my flannel to bare my breasts, my fingertips tingling with the compulsion to do the same to him so I can see the tattoos that have danced on the skin of the big bear of a man fighting off the monsters in my dreams.
“Your home is with me.” He groans when he discovers I’m not wearing anything beneath the flannel, though I should be wrapped up in several layers of clothing—or at the very least, a bra.
“No, it’s not,” I say when Elliott kneels and kisses his way down my body to take my sensitive right nipple into his hot mouth. I arch into his touch instead of away after swearing off men, and specificallyhim, for the rest of my life. Oh, how I’ve missed this, too.
“Yes, it is. It always will be.” He takes a hard pull that makes my core tighten with arousal, and I moan when he turns his cheek to give my left nipple the same attention.
“You need to leave,” I say with alarm when weak headlights grow brighter from an approaching, beat-up sedan from the opposite direction. The driver slows as if cautious that they’ve spotted an animal that might run in front of their car, then speeds off with a squeal of their tires when they see what we twohumansare doing in the middle of the night on the side of the road.
“Not without you, Birdie.” Elliott snatches the comforter off the ground and easily lifts me with one hand under my ass, carrying me into the woods out of sight of any other would-be travelers.
“Don’t call me that,” I say with a moan, hanging onto himinstead of yelling at him to let me go. I tangle my fingers in his disheveled hair, imagining him pulling at his silver strands repeatedly, growing more upset the longer we’re separated.
“Birdie,” he murmurs when he drops the comforter and sets me down, kneeling to push his face between my thighs, taking a deep, ragged inhale. “My Birdie.”
I tip my chin up to the moon when Elliott backs me against a tree and rolls my panties and leggings down to my ankles. I should have put on my boots instead of leaving the house in a pair of Goldie’s slippers left by the door, because without them, nothing is stopping him from lifting each foot to pull my leggings off, then draping one knee over his broad shoulder.
“I’m not…not…yours. Oh yes, Daddy,” I moan, pressing my spine into the tree trunk and fisting his hair for balance as I rock my hips, grinding on his tongue as he firms it over my clit.
Elliott’s deep growl of pleasure at hearing the endearment is as powerful as his Bronco’s engine, vibrating through me when he slips one finger into my pussy, then two as my pitch rises for him, louder and louder, wanting more, more, more.
“Wait, stop,” I say suddenly, yanking his head back before giving him the chance to do so on his own, which I know he would have, even if he hadn’t wanted to. His face is the definition of agony that I’ve pushed him away…until I hurry to snap the comforter open on the hard ground, then lower myself on top of it on my hands and knees. “Behind, now.”
Elliott rips down the zipper of his dark jeans and shoves the material and his boxers to his knees. When he lines himself up behind me, I wiggle my hips with impatience. I need him.Now. I bite my bottom lip to hold back a high-pitched moan when he thrusts three times, pushing deeper with each one, untilhe’s filled me completely, my pussy prepped by his fingers. Then he comes down on top of me, his front draped along my back and his hands braced on the outsides of mine, just how I want him.
When his teeth only nip at my neck, teasing me, I tilt my head to the side and tell him, “Bite me!”
He growls when he clamps his teeth down—not hard enough to break my skin, but enough to keep me immobile beneath him as he ruts me into the ground.
Sparks fly behind my closed eyes when he shifts his weight onto one hand so that he can cup and squeeze my breasts that swing with each powerful thrust, then down to caress my baby bump, holding tight as if he’s afraid he’ll never get to hold me like this again.I’m scared, too, I want to tell him.
When he moves his hand down lower to find and massage my clit, my mouth drops open, every sense heightened by the warmth and aching familiarity that is my Elliott. My Elliott that I never wanted to leave. My Elliott that Ihadto leave. My Elliott that may never understandwhy, no matter how hard he tries.
And so even though I try to hold back my orgasm, hoping time will remain still so I can live in this moment forever with him, my body is an instrument he knows how to play with intimate expertise, and bliss finds me. I cum with a defeated groan, crying out with pleasure wrapped in despair, begging him not to stop until I find my second, more powerful release since I’m determined to be stronger, to not let him touch me again after tonight. Because the barest, briefest of his featherlight touches shreds my willpower, blowing apart the shield I need to keep between us.
“I can’t hold back much longer, Mama,” Elliott says with anear-hysterical note to his voice. “Tell me—”
“You can cum now, Daddy.”
He bites down harder and whimpers out his long, hot release, grunting and shaking on top of me, a feeling I don’t ever want to forget but need to for my own sanity.
When his weight begins to sag, I rush to tell him, “Don’t crush me!”
Elliott drops his bulk to the side, taking me down with him, his cock still planted firmly inside me.
“Daddy,” I say quietly, my teeth beginning to chatter when the chill sets in, cooling my overheated skin. “I’m cold,” I say a little louder, almost pleading, and Elliott pulls me back into his body, cradling me with his palm resting on my bare belly.
It’s almost as if we’re back at the cabin, in bed, cut off from the outside world with the kids sleeping just down the hall, where they’ve been begging every day to go back to.Home. Safe. His.
“I missed you,” I whisper, already regretting that I let the words slip, needing to rebuild my strength. “I don’t want to miss you.”
“But you do, Birdie. You miss me as much as I miss you, don’t you?” Elliott tugs the edge of the comforter up to cover my body and partially his, and he pushes his other arm beneath my head for a pillow. He kisses the bite mark he left behind, then nuzzles his nose in my hair that’s pulled up into a bun.
I roll and bite my lips to stop the rising tide of emotions working its way up my throat, threatening to choke me, and shake my head.
“You do,” he whispers and strokes my skin pricked with goosebumps as his cock finally softens. Still, he doesn’t pull out. “Tell me it’s real.”
I shake my head again, just once this time, drowsy with pleasure and Elliott’s body heat, my eyelids growing heavier. “I need to get up,” I murmur when I find it too hard to open my eyes again.
