by Lucia Black
Libby knows who you are. We talk about you every day. Read her my letters. Make sure she practices her writing. Feed her passions and don’t let her quit when life gets hard. She’s a fighter, like her parents.
I’ll always be with you and Libby. Find your happiness again, Preston. Be honest with yourself. And don’t let anyone tell you what you can or can’t have. You are so much more than your name.
All my love,
Annabelle
My voice cracked more than a few times and I had to take a breath. The words were almost too blurred by tears to continue reading, but I had to finish it. These were this very special woman’s dying thoughts and Preston needed to know.
Sometime during my reading, Preston had climbed off the bed. Even though I’d finished, he paced the side of the bed, his footsteps thick and heavy with worry and sadness. I sat up. I didn’t know what I wanted from him, what I wanted him to say, but I needed more than silence.
“Preston?”
He looked at me for a brief second, all the hate and rage in the world filling his glare, and then reached to his left, picked up the lamp from the nightstand, and threw it against the wall and he screamed, a primal, guttural sound that reverberated on the walls.
I blinked at him in disbelief, but otherwise I didn’t do much more than flinch. I had four older brothers with bad tempers, and a twin sister who passed away. I had seen my fair share of grief co-mingled with anger. Hell, it was one of the steps to acceptance. If anything, he needed that.
Secret Service didn’t know that, however. Three of them busted through my bedroom door with weapons drawn.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “It was just a lamp. He’s grieving. It’s okay. Everything is fine.”
They turned their gazes to Preston for confirmation.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The head of security gave Preston a nod before leaving the room.
“I’m sorry. Fuck. They heard me from the hallway. They weren’t even in here.” Preston sunk to the bed and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry I did that.”
“It’s okay.” I crawled toward him on the bed and then rubbed his back in lazy circles. His muscles were too taut to the touch and desperately needed to be soothed. “Everything will be okay.”
He turned around and pulled me into a hug so fierce I almost couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t about me. I needed to be there for him. I held him close and pulled him into me.
“Preston, it’s not your fault. It’s not Annabelle’s fault. I’m so sorry they did this to you. She knew your heart, even in the end. Take what she said and make sure you honor it. You’re a far better man than you think you are. Don’t live your life letting someone tell you that you can’t have what you want.”
I realized the meaning in my words as they came out of my mouth. He stared at me. I stared at him. The moments passed between in a tense rush. Our lips met, crashing into each other as he kissed me then, or maybe I kissed him. It had been a long time coming. We both knew it. We were just trying to fight it.
My fingers clawed at his back as I pulled him on top of me. I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. There were no words. If we said anything, we would ruin it. I was married, and he was mourning the loss of past love. And we wanted each other so badly it hurt.
We kissed for as long as we could while hurriedly removed clothing. Our shirts were easy, our lips only breaking contact for mere seconds while they were pulled over our heads.
He shoved his pants down only enough to free his cock, and I wiggled out of mine and tossed them aside. We were acting with extreme urgency even though we had all night.
I spread my legs, giving him access to settle between my thighs.
“I want you inside me. Now,” I told him. I rocked my hips forward, feeling his length near my opening.
Preston reached between us and rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit. He coated himself in my wetness and then pressed his thick head into my aching clit.
“Fuck me, Preston,” I panted, desperate for him to fill me.
Flashes of the nights I’d spent with him played through my mind. The night he fucked me against the wall of my hallway in my apartment. The way my orgasm poured out of me for the first time. Watching him in the hotel bathroom mirror as he pounded into me. That incredibly night in the Bahamas . . .
He pressed his tip to my opening and thrust into me, fully and completely. I bit my lip, groaning in pleasure. Preston stilled. There was no movement, no in and out. He just let me savor the full feeling, and fuck it felt good.
He bucked his hips into me, nailing me to the mattress. I grabbed onto my thighs and pulled my legs apart as much as I could to give him every centimeter of me.
He panted as he pumped into me. I could feel the orgasm building. Throaty rumbles of pleasure came from my mouth, though I pressed my lips together to keep the noise down.
Preston repositioned us without a word, throwing my ankles over his shoulders and finding that special spot deep inside me. We were as close as we could be, connecting in the most primal way. I reached between us, finding my clit, and rubbed over it quickly.
I opened my eyes, meeting his. The intensity of his stare, the rapid movement over my clit, and the way he fucked me . . . my inner walls began to spasm.
“I’m going to come,” I whisper-yelled. My legs shook and my body twitched as I felt the spasms of orgasms crash through me. He stilled as I laid there, my canal pumping his cock for more.
I was in a state of ecstasy. Preston leaned over, putting his mouth over a nipple. He flicked it with his tongue, sucking and biting it roughly before releasing it. He pulled out of me, a deep and throaty grunt emitting from him as he said, “I want your ass.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him as he climbed off me. Before I could roll over, he leaned into my pussy, pulling my clit into his mouth, and sucking it hard and fast. I almost screamed. He let go, nudging my leg.
I positioned myself on all fours and leaned back into him. He slid into me, coating himself in my juices once more. He pulled out and pressed his tip against the tight rim. He pushed in slowly, giving me time to acclimate to the pain of no lube and his impressively large cock. I reached between my legs, stroking my clit as he pushed in deeper, passing that painful barrier.
“Fuck,” he said in a throaty moan.
I felt my canal starting to spasm as I rubbed myself, already brining myself to the bring of orgasm. He pulled back slightly, then pounded into me, over and over. I gasped, turning my head into the bed, and trying not to scream into the sheets.
I came again, this time pouring into my hand and on the bed as he fucked my ass, hard and fast. I shattered around him as my legs quaked, threatening to give out. I rode my orgasm out, feeling the final twitches of euphoria.
Seconds later, Preston came with a deep growl, spilling into me.
I collapsed forward on the bed, sleep pulling me under. Preston laid next to me, his breath coming out in pants as he traced his hand up and down my naked back.
As I faded into the darkness, I heard Preston whisper, “I love you, Tessa.”
“I love you, Preston,” I mumbled as I fell asleep next to him.
Everything about the situation was wrong, and in that moment, I just didn’t care
Chapter 9
The next morning, we showed back up at Annabelle’s house right at the time Jolene said to be there. Preston knocked on the door and we waited on the porch silently in the crisp morning air.
We hadn’t at all discussed what happened between us the night before, but we didn’t ignore each other either. We both woke up in a panic when Preston’s phone buzzed at five a.m. with his morning briefing. We’d slept together, in more ways than one. We flew out of bed and grabbed our clothes. We had an hour before breakfast would arrive, and the last thing we needed was anyone seeing us together. We got ready in our respective rooms, coming out when security and room
service had entered. We hadn’t said much to each other at all the morning. We’d both been busy making calls and arrangements, and that didn’t change on the ride over.
The most time I’d had to think about it was while I showered and got ready. I knew how I felt. I just didn’t know how he did.
The door opened, and Jolene smiled when she saw us. “You’re right on time. Come on in.”
Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had an apron tied around her waist covered with flour splatters.
“How is Libby this morning?” Preston asked as we passed through the house to get to the kitchen in the back.
“She’s excited. Kinda confused, kinda worried about her toys.”
“That’s understandable,” I said.
Libby sat at a large wooden table that had the old, heirloom quality to it. The cherry oak grain had character, and it was stunning. I would’ve thought it had been passed down generation to generation.
“What’s this about?” Preston asked as he pointed.
I followed his finger to see a member of the security team standing at the backdoor with a plate full of pancakes.
“Breakfast?” Jolene asked. “Surely you have that up north. Don’t tell me you’re taking us somewhere that doesn’t like to eat breakfast. I’m southern. I’ll die.”
“You can’t . . .” Preston was at a loss for words at the sight of our big, burly Secret Service team leader, eating a stack of heavily syruped pancakes on a china plate featuring pink flowers. “You can’t just feed them, Jolene.”
She glanced from the guys either still eating or just finishing, then looked back to Preston. “I mostly certainly can, and I most certainly did. They aren’t stray animals, Preston.”
“I’m not saying that,” he lowered his voice once he realized we had Libby’s attention, “but they’re working.”
Jolene folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her hip. “I’m working. I work all day and night, and believe you me, I still eat. They’re here. They’re guests. They eat. Now, sit down so you can eat too.”
And that was that. Jolene didn’t have to put her foot down to put her foot down. I sort of wanted to clap when she finished. She didn’t scare you. She didn’t threaten you. She didn’t put the fear of God in you when she told you how it was going to be. You didn’t even know what was going to happen if you tried her. You just knew you weren’t going to find out. I just knew I admired it.
When it really came down to it, I admittedly didn’t know all the procedures and protocols, but no one even knew where we were. The likelihood of any kind of problem was slim to none. If the guys wanted a couple of pancakes, I didn’t see the problem with eating a few pancakes.
“Will you two come sit down?” Libby asked. “I saved these two seats for you.”
Libby had an empty chair on either side of her with two full plates of pancakes.
I left Jolene and Preston to their weird staring contest and joined Libby at the table. The chair was a sturdy wood that matched the table, and I pulled it out and sat down.
“Thanks for this special spot. How did I get so lucky to get to sit by you?”
Libby’s blue eyes sparkled in the morning light filtering in through the glass sliding door. It was littered with pony window clings and smudged little fingerprints. It was funny as something so little could be so touching. I hoped she’d find a suitable place for her to put window clings on.
“You’re my new friend,” she said simply as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Do you like pancakes? Jolene makes the best ones I’ve ever had.” She paused for a brief second. “And I’ve had lots of pancakes.”
I laughed. “I bet they’re so good that I’ll never even want to eat a different pancake again.”
Preston joined us at the table, effortlessly pulling out the heavy chair and sitting on the other side of Libby.
“Good morning, Libby.”
“Mornin’,” Libby answered in the cutest little voice.
Jolene brought us both a mug of steaming coffee and sat down at the table across from Preston.
“Thanks,” I said as I took a tentative sip. The coffee had a strong nutty taste and was perfect in temperature. There was definitely something to be said for southern hospitality.
“So, how did the packing go last night?” Preston asked.
“Take a bite of your breakfast,” Libby said. The way Libby said it was sweet and concerned, like she was looking out for his well being.
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Preston obliged. He sectioned off a decently sized chunk of pancake and took a bite.
Jolene smirked at the little miss she had a hand in molding. “I have all the essentials and some of Libby’s most beloved nonessentials packed. We’ll just need to get everything else to us at some point.”
“Absolutely,” Preston nodded once as if he was assuring himself more than anyone else. “I have made arrangements for that. I want this to be as stress-free for you as possible.”
“Well, all things considered, you’ve made it pretty easy so far. I’m not packing up the entire house. That’s about as stress free as moving gets.”
“Will I ever get to see my bedroom again?” Libby asked as she ran her fork through a puddle of syrup.
My heart broke a little more for her when she asked such an innocent question. On top of everything else, she had to leave her home, the only home she had ever known. That was a tough pill to swallow for adults sometimes.
Preston turned to her and in response, Libby scooted around on her chair to face him. “You can have everything in it. Jolene and some helpers are making sure everything gets put into boxes and I’m having them sent to us.”
“Everything?” she asked in a skeptical tone.
“Everything in this whole entire house,” Preston answered.
In a move that shocked everyone, she lunged forward and threw her arms around Preston.
“Thank you,” she said into his shirt.
Jolene and I shared a look with misty eyes.
“You’re so welcome,” Preston said, his own voice choked on the words.
Libby shook off the exchange much quicker than the adults did. She went right back to the last few bites of her breakfast while the three of us sat in contemplative silence. I couldn’t say what anyone else was thinking or feeling, but I had an overwhelming sense of hope that Libby was going to be just fine. She had Jolene and Preston, but she had me too, and Cal. He’d love her, I just knew he would. Between us all, she’d have all the love she’d need.
“May I be excused,” Libby asked Jolene.
Jolene eyed Libby’s nearly empty plate. “Yes, ma'am.”
Libby climbed down from the chair and practically onto Preston. He held out his arms to her as if she were a much smaller child.
“Would you like to go to the backyard with me?” she asked Preston. “Jolene said we couldn’t pack the swing set but maybe if you see it, you’ll think of a way.”
We all laughed at that.“Libby, I told you, I can’t take the swing set or the shutters. But everything else can come. I’m sure you can get a new swing set once we get settled,” Jolene said.
“Libby, I told you, I can’t take the swing set or the shutters. But everything else can come. I’m sure you can get a new swing set once we get settled,” Jolene said.
“Jolene is right,” Preston said, trying to hide his confusion over what Libby was trying to take with her. “But I’d love it if you showed it to me. The swing set, I mean.”
The look on Libby’s face didn’t spell defeat. She squinted her eyes to Jolene and said, “Okay. But I still want the attic door.”
Jolene pursed her lips. “Deal. Now get outside and play.” She tossed her head in the direction of the door.
She aimed her mischievous grin to Preston as she climbed down from his lap and got to her feet in a flash. Preston wrapped his large hand around her small one and let his daughter lead him away. He looked over his shoulder and gave me
a heartfelt smile just before he ducked outside.
Once they exited the glass door in the back, Jolene got up from her chair to clear the table, so I helped. I stacked the silverware on the plates and took them over to her at the large farmhouse sink on the opposite side of the kitchen.
“You’re a guest,” she told me. “You don’t have to clean up.”
“I know, but otherwise I’d just be sitting here.” I handed her the stack of plates.
“I can’t have the future First Lady washing my dishes. Sit.”
I did as she said—because Jolene had that kind of authority—and sat on the stool tucked under the counter.
“I think you’re going to have to get over the whole First Lady thing. You aren’t the hired help. I’m just Tessa, just like Preston is Preston, and Cal is Cal.” Something told me the meeting between Jolene and Cal could be interesting. They both liked to call the shots but were both were polite enough about telling you how things were going to be. I knew Cal would still come out dominant, but if anyone could give him a run for his money, it was Jolene. “It’s going to be a long four years if you walk on eggshells around me.”
“You know what? You’re right. I don’t much care for eggs, anyway. I can’t tiptoe around. I’m more of a bull in a China shop kinda gal.” She wiped her hands on a dainty embroidered towel hanging over the sink. “So, just-Tessa, are you ready for this?”
“Me?’
“Yes, you. I know she’s Preston’s, but we’re all in this together. She saw something in you yesterday. You sweet-talked her with your pony knowledge.”
“Oh, that,” I laughed. “It wasn’t sweet-talk. Not really. I do a lot of volunteer work, but the one that I do for just me, the thing that means the most is at the children’s hospital. I meant that. I just happen to know about ponies. But I’m happy that it made her comfortable . . .” I trailed off.
