Page 16 of Darla's Christmas Knight
Which it was.
But he’d been desperate to get back into her life, so he agreed.
And what had that gotten him?
Fourteen fucks, that’s what!
“Yes,” he muttered.
“And you can get it up? Actuallyperformon demand like that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my equipment.”
And Darla was a beautiful woman. Just looking at her was enough to make him hard. And caressing her silky skin, hearing her moan, feeling her clench around hisbarecock, shooting his release into her … all of that was sublime.
It was theafterwardthat was the problem.
Leaving Darla’s bed, dressing, walking out the door, climbing into his truck, and going back to his empty bed … he hated every moment.
And when it was day seven, and he left knowing there were twenty-one days until he was allowed back into her bed … that was hell. Absolute hell.
And at some stage, she’d fall pregnant.
Then it would be over, his stud duty done.
*
Meanwhile, in Bulwark …
Darla stared at the box, reluctant to pick it up.
Her period was one day late.
One day.
She wasneverlate.
And she should be excited. This was what she wanted.
But if she werepregnant, then Bobby’s visits would cease.
And she really, really enjoyed their time together.
She cursed herself for being so weak, but it was becoming more and more difficult watching him walk out the door after each of his visits.
She was in hell. One of her own making.
With a huff, she grabbed the box and stomped down the hallway to the bathroom. She couldn’t help but stop and peer into the bedroom, her eyes zeroing in on the bed. The one he’d stumbled from sixteen days ago.
There had been something …moreto that last time. Maybe they’d subconsciously known it would actually be their last?
Lying on top of her, connected in every way possible, Bobby had reached for her hands, placing them beside her head as he threaded his fingers through hers. Their gazes had locked and held as he started moving his hips, setting an unhurried rolling and drugging rhythm, somehow knowing exactly where to apply pressure, how much to retreat before pressing back down, filling her, going deeper, harder.
It had been a slow, intense climb, like the ascent of a lumbering roller coaster car reaching for its zenith. And then he’d held still, just a moment, suspended above her, his stare bright and honest, giving her a glimpse right into his soul. “Darla,” he’d whispered.
Her nerve endings had screamed for release, yet she could dono more than stare back, transfixed by the depth of emotion he revealed. He’d lowered his forehead to hers, breaking the stare, and his hips started snapping wildly. They had careened toward their climax, out of control, wild and delirious. Gasping for breath, he’d collapsed over her, his face buried in her neck, his heart pounding as hard as hers.
For a long while, a minute, maybe two, they’d lain like that, immobile, unable,unwillingto disconnect.
