by Never , M.
“Finally asleep.” He sighs as he slips by me.
“Tenacious, that one,” I comment.
“Just like her mother.” Dev swipes his leather jacket from the banister.
I idly wonder if that response is a criticism or a compliment.
“Big plans tonight?” I pry as he slides on his jacket. He looks hotter than hell in worn jeans, black long-sleeve shirt, and shit kickers.
“Um…” He fixes his collar. “I’m going out. Yeah,” he relays vaguely.
I rock back and forth, still seated on the stairs. “That’s good.”
Dev, sensing my unrest, stands directly in front of me, placing his hands on his hips. God, when I really look at him, like really stare, I see every part of him that I love. His strong stance, ruggedly beautiful face, and unwavering confidence that crosses over into arrogance every now and again.
“Kayla, is everything okay? Is there something you want to talk about?”
I peer up at him and his inquisitive—more like anatomizing—expression.
“No.” I fucking chicken out.
“You sure?” he probes.
“Yes.” I’m so antsy I can’t stop wringing my hands together. Just tell him! Say something!
“Okay.” He steps back, suspiciously. “You know I’m here—” He’s interrupted by the beeping of his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the message. He types a quick reply, then shoves it away. “Eileen. She’s waiting for me,” he says, suddenly in a hurry.
Just the mere mention of that skank’s name, and my jealousy erupts like a geyser.
“Dev!” I snatch his hand abruptly as he turns to leave. The tension in our touch is palpable. He slowly faces me with a disconcerting air. I ignore the pounding in my chest, as we stare silently, the house shaking with emotional turbulence.
I refuse to let go as I search frantically for something to say. Anything. I just want him to…
“Stay…” I plead, sincerely.
Dev’s features contort, no longer stiff with confusion, but softening now with what? Alleviation? Abatement? Want? Desire? Was I wrong to open this door? The look in his penetrating blue eyes is suppressive. He’s deliberating. His breathing becoming heavier as we float silently through the unknown. But we do know. We’ve always known. We know each other. We just have to work our way back again. To that scary, exhilarating, thrilling place where we were once madly in love. His eyes drop to my lips for a quarter of a second before he pounces on me, pinning my body to the stairs. Our lips linger a fraction of a millimeter apart, his pelvis smashed against mine. We’re so close. A familiar warmth spreads through my body, vividly reminding me of the way he feels and the way he tastes. I’m stiff beneath him, awaiting his next move.
“If I stay, I’m never leaving.” He dangles the ultimatum between our hungry mouths. “I’m not just going to get you off, then walk away.”
I splinter in a thousand different directions. This is our one moment of truth, and if I refuse, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’ll not only have lost Reese, but Dev, too.
“I never want you to leave again.” I swallow my pride, my fear, my guilt, and all my reservations. This is my last shot, and I’m taking it.
I close the illusory space between us because even though we’ve been separated, we’ve never really been apart.
We connect in a kiss so deep, so hot, so impassioned, our jaws stretch, and our tongues twirl in rapturous revolutions. I latch onto the lapel of his leather jacket, imprisoning him against me.
I need this man like I need air—I need him physically, I need him spiritually, and I need him emotionally. Sam was right. I do need taking care of, as much as I hate to admit it, and Dev will do that. He always has.
We grind against each other as the heat between us rises, the ache I’ve suppressed for three years charging to the surface.
I rip Dev’s jacket off as his urgent hands pull at my leggings.
We tear at each other’s clothes right in the middle of the foyer, heady breaths mingling as we fight to stay connected. It all happens so fast and furiously, my hand jerking Dev’s cock as he fingers me forcefully.
“I fucking need you. I need you right now.” I don’t even try to play coy. My desire is apparent and pulsating through every limb.
Dev moans as our mouths mash together, his pulsing cock stabbing into me, stretching me, filling me with one solid blow.
“Fuck!” I see stars as my pussy latches onto his thick hard length. It’s been so long. So fucking long, and I’m so fucking wet and desperate and needy.
“God, Kayla.” He circles his hips, blatantly feeling my expansive want.
“Please, don’t stop.” I close my eyes and absorb every single spine-tingling thrust.
“Never.” Dev drives deeper, his cock thickening with each passing second he’s inside me. “I’m never going to stop. I missed you... I love you...” he murmurs over and over. “You’ve always been the one…” His sentences are broken with each physical exertion, but they affect me nonetheless. They’re everything I’ve been dying to hear. A clash of sensation erupts as a blunt, primal, barbaric claiming takes place. Dev pounding into me, suffocating my screams with his mouth.
It’s sweet fucking affliction as my body succumbs, tightening, tensing. My muscles nearly ripping as I close in on the brink. My core catching fire seconds before the shock of the release.
“Dev, Dev.” His name becomes a tortured whisper with every hammering thrust.
“I’m right here.” He locks me in his arms as my nervous system comes to a screeching halt, my pussy clenching painfully as one raging gush alleviates three years of pent-up hostility. The sound that escapes my mouth is shrill, and for a few elongated, euphoric seconds, I’m a paralyzed vessel of erogenous pleasure.
“Kayla?” Dev mutters my name. His body stiff, still. Plastered against me.
“Mmm hmm,” I heave, fluttering my eyelashes as he clutches my face. The two of us sweating, panting and shaking, slowly recovering from the fuck-filled frenzy.
One look is all it takes, one reconnecting, reviving, reawakening look from Dev, and I bleed with emotion.
Fresh tears form.
“Kayla, don’t.” He drops a loving kiss on my lips. But I can’t help it. What just happened, it was agonizing relief.
“I missed you so much. I miss both of you so much.” I sob against him, hiding my face. I’ve been suffering since the moment he left, and I can’t contain the desolation any longer.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He hugs me tight, peppering kisses wherever he can. “You know Reese didn’t set you up for failure. He knew what he was doing. He knew in the end, it would always be you and me.”
If Dev had said that to me four years ago, I never would have believed him, but knowing what I do now, he’s right. It was always supposed to be us.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I walked away. But I meant what I said, I’m never leaving. Ever again.” He wipes some wetness away with the pad of his thumb.
“Good, because I’ll have a very angry three-year-old on my hands if you do.” I laugh through my tears.
“No one wants that.” He smirks.
“No,” I agree.
“Let’s go to bed, butterfly.” He nips at my lips. “I have a lot of time to make up for.” He kisses me indulgently, circling his tongue and his hips, his semi-hard cock still buried deep inside me. “I’m going to make you come all night.”
My pussy involuntarily clenches, surrendering to just the sound of his husky voice. I willingly hand myself over, eager for Dev and all his dark desires.
Dev
“Oomph!” I wake up to a twenty-two-pound sack of sugar on my chest. Cici giggles, her big blue eyes inquisitive and alight. “Morning, munchkin.”
She looks back and forth between a sleeping Kayla and me, trying to figure out what I’m doing her in her mommy’s bed.
Cici isn’t much of a talker. She’s more a thinker. She absorbs, just like Reese
. She shares so many of his tendencies. When I hold her in my arms, I feel a piece of him, my brother, my twin, and that is a precious thing. Both my girls are precious things.
She shimmies restlessly on my chest in her little pink skull and cross bone PJs. She has a hard time keeping still, which is yet another of Reese’s attributes.
I place my hands on her hips to calm her, but she only laughs, examining me systematically. This child is going to be a force. I can see it already. She takes her little hand and touches the tattoo over my heart. It’s a pair of steampunk clocks with the guts pouring out. One frozen at the time of Reese’s death, the other at the time of her birth.
She traces all the springs, gears, and dials fastidiously. “Daddy,” she utters in her tiny voice.
“That’s right, little one.” I place my hand over hers. Not satisfied, she slips her hand from my grasp and presses the tip of my nose. “Daddy.”
My heart literally stops. Just dies right in my rib cage. I have never hinted, never even implied. I glance down at Kayla. She’s lying on her stomach, peeking up at us from the pillow. Her eyes are glassy, and there’s a small smile playing on her lips.
“That’s right, baby.” She pushes herself up, my gaze following her vigilantly, as she gives Cici a kiss. “Daddy.”
Kayla just destroyed me with one single word. If ever any of my wishes came true, this is the one. The big one. Kayla, a home, a family, and unconditional love.
Content, Cici grabs the remote off the nightstand and shoves it in my face. “Mickey Mouse!”
I turn on the television as a happy Cici makes herself comfortable between Kayla and me. I extend my arm so I’m holding both of them, the greatest amount of joy overcoming me. Kayla smiles as she settles back down onto her pillow. It’s a warm, rich expression that will forever be engrained in my soul.
This is life.
The very beginning of our life. Mine, Kayla’s, and Reese’s.
I may have had to scale a mountain to get here, but I’m convinced the best view comes with the hardest climb. And now that I’m sitting atop the highest peak, I’m howling at the moon.
I’m never letting go again.
I’m never, ever, letting go…
The End
Thank you for reading Moto! I hope you enjoyed Kayla, Reese and Dev’s story. <3 M
TRINITY
M. NEVER
Trinity
Copyright © M. NEVER 2016
All rights reserved
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from author M. Never.
Cover Design By:
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Editing By:
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Editing 4 Indies
Proofreading By:
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Interior Design and Formatting By:
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For Jennifer. You know who you are.
1
Jenn
“To the beginning of the end.” I clink the rim of my plastic champagne glass against Janine’s.
“Jenn, you are such a drama queen. I’m getting married, not walking the green mile.” My dark-haired, blue-eyed best friend chuckles as she takes an indulgent sip.
“Might as well be. Committing yourself to one man for the rest of your life sounds like a death sentence to me.” I swallow a large gulp of the crisp, dry bubbly.
“Please . . .” She follows suit, draining her glass. “Marriage is a sacrament. The happily ever after everyone is so gung-ho about.”
“Is that how you’re selling it to yourself?” I wipe down the bar top, then straighten the square cork coasters in front of her.
“I don’t have to sell it to myself. I love Jack. He loves me. That’s enough of a reason to get the needle.” She taps her arm dramatically before wagging her empty glass at me.
I pull the corked champagne bottle from the ice bin and pour her refill, a little disturbed.
“Don’t give me that look,” she scolds me as she takes another generous sip.
We ordered the expensive champagne months ago, right after she and Jack got engaged, and have been keeping it safe for this very night.
“Why not?” I laugh. “You just alluded to death by lethal injection. And had no issue with it.”
“Because I’m confident in my decision. In Jack.”
“You have way too much faith.” I’m a total pessimist.
“And you don’t have enough.”
I snort cynically. “Faith has never proved to do much for me.”
“Jenn, I know you’ve kind of had a shit time of it”—she flutters her fake eyelashes—“but you had better be careful. With an attitude like that, the only relationship you’re ever going to have is with this bar.”
“Might not be such a bad thing.” I run my hand over the worn wood. “You know my affection for this place.” I glance around the room. The weathered restaurant isn’t much—a bunch of tables in an open space, scuffed teak floors, and dated seaside décor—but the unobstructed ocean view erases all the imperfections. It brings a youthful life to the aging structure and revitalizes a liveliness in me day after day. My faith lies within these four falls.
Tell you a secret? I’m not really scared of commitment; I just haven’t found a man who can make me feel the way this place does. Safe, home, alive. Janine has been with Jack since high school. She knows his every in and out. Her faith is warranted. He’s proved himself to her over and over again. He’s her stability.
The only stability I’ve ever had is this restaurant.
“That’s completely unacceptable to me, Jenn.” Janine hiccups. “You need cock to survive. It’s as essential as eating.”
I nearly spit my champagne. She always has spoken her mind . . . sans filter.
Janine Sinclair has been my best friend since we nearly burned down the local high school with a chemistry assignment gone awry. She’s responsible for my navel piercing, my tattoo, and my new haircut—a choppy bob with hot pink highlights. I’ve always had long hair, so I’m still adjusting to the chin-length, layered cut. I find myself constantly flipping the pink and platinum bangs out of my eyes. Annoying. I questioned if the atypical color was going to look too outrageous in her wedding pictures, but she just waved me off and foiled my hair. Did I forget to mention she’s also my stylist and has bold blue streaks threaded through her own dark locks? Funky is Janine’s theme for this wedding. Hell, funky is Janine’s theme for her life.
“What time is Shayna supposed to get here?” She asks, close to polishing off her third glass of champagne.
“Any minute now,” I inform her.
“Good, because I’m ready for you to be done working. I want to get this party started!” She shoots off the barstool and throws her hands up in the air. Oh boy, the bubbly is kicking in.
“Soon enough,” I promise her. “Don’t go off the deep end too soon. Jack and his posse aren’t even here yet.”
“Who needs them?” She waves. “All I need is you, some awesome music, and lots and lots of this.” She swirls her plastic glass sending splashes of champagne over the brim.
“Is that all?” I toss a bar rag at her so she can clean up the spillage on the floor. “Then why did I go to all the trouble of putting a party together?” Janine and Jack cou
ldn’t really afford separate bachelor and bachelorette parties, so I organized a joint celebration.
“Because you love me, and I’m worth it, and you have the expensive champagne connections.” She leans against the edge of the bar with bright pink cheeks.
“Yes, all of those things are true—” Before I can tack on a snarky remark, the front door of the restaurant swings open, grabbing my attention. I expect Shayna to traipse in, but it’s a pair of strangers instead. A pair of tall, drop-dead gorgeous strangers who stick out like a sore thumb. I peg them as tourists. No local wears those clothes or looks that put together in this place. The Corkscrew, or the Cork and Screw as it’s affectionately called because of the way the word is separated on the awning—by a squiggly line that looks like the ‘and’ symbol—is three steps above a dive. Most of the high season, or summer clientele, are fishermen, beachgoers in bathing suits, and a casual dinner crowd. Not many designer labels waltz in, especially now that’s it’s after Labor Day.
The two striking men look around the sparse room before their gaze lands on Janine and me. Her face lights up, inviting them to the bar. Janine used to work as a hostess here, so her hospitality instincts kick in.
“Please take a seat.” She ushers them right in front of me. Her big blue eyes glitter behind their backs, communicating fresh meat. She’s terrible. Worse than an obsessive Mrs. Bennet trying to marry off all her daughters.
“What can I get you?” I drop a square cork coaster in front of each of them.
“What’s good?” the blond with wild wavy hair asks with genuine interest. His warm tan skin and straight white teeth are totally dreamy. Like a sexy-ass, roll me in the sand, surfer.
“The coconut mojitos are amazing,” Janine chimes in. A jubilant smile marring her round pretty face. Jesus, down girl.
“All right, a coconut mojito it is.” Blondie grins, and my girlie bits tingle. Maybe Janine isn’t the only one who needs to calm down.
