“Wet like this? You’re wanting, baby. More than your mind keeping you awake.” His lips skimmed along the tender skin on the back of her arm, giving her more heat, more sensation. “Bare, lying right here next to me. Wet. So fucking wet and wanting.” He groaned, his fingers moving faster. “Fuck, that’s hot, baby.”
He pinned her, giving her more of his weight. Mouth next to her ear, breath raising goosebumps along her shoulder and neck, he whispered to her in a voice gone rough with passion. “Be still, Little Bee.” Then he moved, shifting slightly until the engorged head of his cock slid just inside, past her already swollen lips, stretching her in delicious ways, but still only barely there. The promise of his possession, poised on the brink of filling her.
Holding back, he waited, his mouth moving on her neck. "Keep still, baby. Let me quiet your mind." She wanted him, desired what he wordlessly offered. Moving restlessly, her legs shifted across the mattress. Holding still and in place, he leaned close to whisper, his voice thick and rough, “Gonna fuck you, Bee. I’m past easy, and so are you. I can smell how ready you are. You’re fucking drenched, soaking my hand. I want you, rough and hard, baby. Ready? Ready for me?”
His words caused her heart to stutter and jump in her chest. A tingle-filled tautness settled between her legs as she shivered and nodded in response, and he breathed, “Thank fuck,” and moved, slamming deep inside on a long, single, fast—God, so deep—stroke. His thumb never stopped moving and she found herself torn between two delicious options, spurred to push back against this welcome movement and pressure, or needing to thrust her mound down against his hand instead, against the mattress.
“Quiet, baby.” He groaned again, and she realized the keening sound in the room was coming from her throat. “Hard for you.” God, I love his words. No one had ever spoken to her with such raw need, and she couldn’t get enough of it. “So fucking hard, for you.” Rough and passionate, the way he talked through what he was feeling when they made love was such a turn-on.
Without giving her time to think, he moved again and again, plunging in hard and fast, the width and length of his cock stretching her, fulfilling that unspoken need clenching low in her core. “Fuck, Bee. My Little Bee. So fucking tight. So hot. Pussy wrapping around me, taking every inch of me.” He groaned and she whimpered when his breath gusted across her skin. “All of me for you. Fucking that pretty pussy, you fucking me back. Quiet your mind; wake your body. Take all of me, fucking…yeah. God, baby.”
With every word, every phrase uttered in that rough, unmistakable voice, he carried her closer to the edge and her core tightened, pulsing in rhythm. The delicious way he filled her forced a quick breath as she gasped, quaking when the first shocks of her orgasm began to roll through her. Breathing fast and shallow, she chased the slippery, twisting feeling, eyes clenched tightly closed as her neck stretched, arching back. “Duck,” she panted, calling his name soft and low. He groaned, grinding into her, pinching her clit lightly in response to the single word.
“Duck,” she said again and then felt the heat of his lips, hardness of his teeth grazing the skin of her back. She wondered at his response, and then the pace changed to one guaranteed to give them both pleasure. His movements frenzied and hard, the bed shook underneath them, headboard slapping the wall a half-dozen times before he adjusted the angle. Loving it, she loved everything he did to her, how he controlled her body, her every reaction, driving her closer. Every inch of his cock stroked into her, rigid, hot…thick. The delicious drag and slide of his cock inside, crown mushroomed out so large it seemed physically impossible. Pounding deep. Bodies awakened. My Duck.
“You’re going to fucking come on my cock, Bee. Come for me, darlin’. Come all over my cock, hold me in, pull hard. Tight, God, so fucking tight, your pussy so fucking good.” He changed the angle slightly and she moaned, shocked at the noises coming from her mouth in response to his words, the pounding evidence of his desire for her. Sounding out of control, and she found she loved that, too, he grunted, “Fuck, yeah. Hot. Feel how hot you make me.”
Tipping her hips, she rose to meet him just as he pinched her clit again, the pain jolting through to pleasure and beyond, swelling and filling her. She focused on the wave, riding it as the orgasm rolled through her, pushing up and over the edge as muscles all over her body tensed, legs stiffening and trying to pull together. His words came in short bursts, sounds breathed out with each gasp as he thrust hard. “Feel you going, baby. Feel it. Feel us together. Me and you, baby. Just us, my home.” Held open and apart by his knees, his thighs between her legs, her fingers clutched at the sheets, fisting the fabric as she broke for him.
She was lost in the sensations assaulting her from all sides and he kept moving, calling her name, each stroke taking her farther, making it more. Then, as if from a distance, she registered the grip of his hands lifting and helpfully put her elbows on the mattress, resting her forehead on her arms. Behind her now, he had one hand on her shoulder, using the grip to pull her body backwards and onto his cock. His other hand crept around her waist and eased between her legs as she squirmed to avoid the touch. “No, no. Duck, too much. Please. No.” The words came out as individual phrases, interrupted by hard breaths and hitching gasps.
Ignoring her pleas, he roughly thrummed his fingers back and forth over her clit and labia, curving them down and around as he pressed hard against her mound with the heel of his hand, fingers splitting to either side of his cock as he entered her. Astonished as the brilliant feeling in her belly caught her unawares, she bowed her neck, coming again, twisting to look back and up at him, wanting desperately to share the moment.
Eyes open wide, he was watching, studying her, gaze flicking up her body to rest on her face and then back down to where he was sliding in and out of her body. “Fucking beautiful, Bee. My cock inside you, my Bee. Mine. My lover.” Mouth open, his words interrupted as he paused a moment to suck in a breath, his body never stopping the hard, fast movements, hips snapping forwards and back as he fucked her.
With a roar, he moved, his hand clamping down on her shoulder and pulling her up, lifting her torso so her back was against his chest and his hand slipped around, cupping the column of her throat. Thrusting hard up into her, nearly lifting her off the mattress as he came, he gritted out a single word, communicating a depth and intensity of emotion that stripped her defenses and stole her breath away. “Mine.”
They stayed in that position for a minute, and then two as he shuddered repeatedly, his cock jerking hard inside her, pumping heat filling her as his orgasm peaked. Palm still pressed between her thighs, the other wrapped around her throat, he controlled their position effortlessly as the muscles of his stomach rippled and moved with each spasm of his cock. She lifted her hands, cupping them around the wrist of the hand holding her neck, feeling the strength and tension keeping her perfectly in place, the possessive, intimate gesture flawlessly right. He’s mine, and I’m his.
“Fuck.” He took a deep breath, his head dipping so his mouth touched her shoulder. Dropping soft kisses every inch along the way, breath hot on her skin as he worked from her shoulder to her ear, he whispered, “Goddamn, I love you, Bee. My woman.”
Sinking back on his haunches, he slipped out of her body, but pulled her with him, keeping a full-body contact, her ass resting on his thick, muscular thighs. “Not sorry,” he repeated his words from earlier and she laughed softly, the sound shaky in the nighttime silence settling back into the house. “You want more kids?”
The question came from left field and she shook her head in surprise rather than negation, only realizing how he would take it when he stiffened beneath her. “Not a no, baby. Just an unexpected question,” she quickly said with a laugh. “Yeah, I always wanted to have more kids. Tommy and I tried, but no luck. Is that a real question, or an ‘oh, shit, I forgot the condom’ question?”
“You know me to wear a condom anytime I’ve been with you, except the first time?” He laughed softly, pride and pleasur
e warring for dominance in his tone when he said, “And it wasn’t a very effective measure that time, was it?”
With rich amazement flowing thickly through his voice, he said, “Eli is mine. Elias. My son.” Shifting, he laid her on the mattress, brought the pillow back from where their activities had shoved it and pushed it gently underneath her head. “You. Woman, you are mine.”
He stretched out next to her, his arm curving across her belly and chest, legs tangling with hers. She shivered, his fingers trailing up and down her side, hand slipping lower to rest palm down on her softly curved belly just above her mound. Head on the pillow next to hers, he leaned close, pressing his lips to her temple, capturing her mouth when she turned to look at him. He told her, “Yeah, it’s a real question because I’m going to want more kids. I want to see you pregnant, knowing I made you that way. I want to go through everything with you. Want it so fucking bad, Bee. Can’t wait, honey. Cannot wait.”
They lay like that for a time, satiated, sweat drying on their skin. He kissed her again, then as she drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep, she heard him ask her in a drowsy, sexy, highly amused voice, “Did I quiet your mind, baby?”
Shaping up
With satisfaction, Duck looked around at the areas of the ranch visible from the house’s front porch. In the short time he had been here, things had changed. The barely-there glow of the sunrise showed the outbuildings standing with fresh coats of the ranch’s trademark colors, no longer in need of paint.
The length of the drive had been graded, all potholes backfilled and smoothed. The hands had tackled the closest fences first, replacing sagging posts or boards, and had begun to work outward, ensuring all enclosures on the ranch were in good shape. The differences were small when taken individually, but the overall effect was huge. They now looked like what they were, a successful, thriving stock business.
Lifting his coffee mug to his mouth, he blew across the top of the liquid as he simultaneously heard two noises. One was an engine coming down the long drive, having just turned off the road and onto their track. It didn’t quite sound like a truck, but was probably the latest feed delivery, Kennwort’s driver getting an early start on the day, trusting there would already be hands at work to help with offloading. The other sound was smaller, much quieter, but so much more important, because he heard Eli breathing hard as he stood in the doorway behind Duck.
“Eli,” he called, his voice soft. “Come on out if you want. Plenty of room here on this porch.”
“Is there room? You sure about that?” The boy’s voice was tense and low, caution edging into the tone along with a bit of anger.
“Yeah, sure as I can be.” Duck tensed as he waited to hear the screen door open, then with an inward jolt, he saw the boy silently appear near his elbow. “Mornin’.”
“Mornin’.” This single clipped word was all he got in return and, from the corner of his eye, he watched as Eli’s head swung back and forth, his gaze evidently moving from Duck to a place out in the distance, beyond the barns and horses milling in the corrals. “So you and Mom?” As hard as he must have tried to hold it steady, his voice still betrayed him, allowing a quaver to bleed in on the last word. Clearing his throat, Eli continued, “Y’all back together?”
“Yeah. We patched things up.” His tone might be understated, but he knew there was a grin on his face. A fucking big grin, he guessed. Pair the quiet of the desert with the thin walls of the old house, and he didn’t hold out any hope Eli hadn’t heard their noisy lovemaking in the middle of the night. Hell, he expected even in the downstairs bedroom, Essa probably got woken up, too. The grin broadened as he wondered if the hands heard them way out in the bunkhouse. He didn’t care who knew. Brenda so lost in what I gave her that she called my name, claiming me? Claiming us? Hell yeah, he’d take that every night. And every morning. And any moment in between she gave him a chance.
Eli’s head moved up and down, then bobbed to a stop. For a moment, they stood motionless, side-by-side, watching the rim of the sun as it pushed into a cloudless sky along the horizon, soft pinks ripening into brilliant red. “You love her?”
“I do.” He stopped there for a second and then decided the boy needed to know how he cherished Bee, had always held her close. “I’ve loved her since I was fourteen. Waited a long time to get a second chance with her. But, even when you want something as badly as we do this, when you’ve lived separate lives like we have, there are bound to be things that can get sideways between you. Unexpected misunderstandings at the importance of experiences the other person doesn’t even know anything about. Can’t have any chance of knowing, unless it’s talked about. Talked through.
“Your mom and I talked things through, and we both have an eye on which direction other issues might come from. This is something we both want, me in her life, her in mine. Love her, love that she’s willing to go here with me, Eli. So me and your mom, we’ll work to head anything off. Stop trouble in its tracks so we don’t upset each other again. I love her, Elias. I can’t stand to see her hurting. Would cut out my own tongue before I hurt her like that again.”
There was silence for a breath, and then, “They used to fight.” Out of the blue, the boy offered this detail and Duck wasn’t able to control his reaction. No one had come out and told him, but he had his suspicions. “Like…a lot. If she stood there and took it, he got mean.” Eli shrugged, thin shoulders lifting the shirt he wore, movement setting the untucked hem swaying against his hips. “Mom never knew how much I saw. You’d cut out your tongue? I wish he’d have cut off his hands.”
Fuck. “That mean what I think it does, Elias?” The boy nodded, and then shrugged again, staying silent, chin pointed to the horizon where the sun had lifted from the curve of the earth, suspended in the ever-brightening sky, a space that had always been there suddenly visible to all. “I don’t hold with hitting women. Ever. Hard stop on that one. Hell, I don’t hit men unless there’s no alternative. They pretty much gotta come at me in a way I can’t avoid before I’ll let loose on ‘em.”
The sun inched up, gaining room from the curve of the earth. “He wasn’t my dad. Did you know?” The whisper filled the porch, pressure from the knowledge the boy held pushing everything away, attempting to keep him isolated in his pain. The gas ball hovering along the edge of the sky cast light that glared on his hurt, no soothing warmth from the bright circle. “He told me. Back before he got bad, before the docs gave up on trying new things. He and Mom wanted more kids, but never got anywhere with it. He found out he couldn’t have kids. Hadn’t ever been able. That meant…”
Voice trailing off mid-sentence, Eli’s shoulders seemed to round down, pulling in, making him small. Filled with sudden rage and pain, not able to stop his actions, Duck reached out, wrapped an arm around the boy and pulled him close, comforting them both. They stood like that for a long time, Eli’s cautious hand creeping around Duck’s waist in fits and starts, each time testing the waters carefully before heading into fresh territory. This continuing until Eli was wrapped around him, head shifting to press tight against his side. No tears, just an agony the boy had borne alone for too long, and Duck wanted to lighten it in any way he could, so he held the boy, and let himself be held.
The light strengthened, driving shadows back into their place as it slipped into the world, filling every space with bright illumination. The softening brilliance exposed everything, both good and bad. Finally, even when he thought he could speak without anger, Duck still struggled to control his voice as he said, “Not something he should have said to you, Eli. That’s the kind of thing you’d think twice before telling a grown man, and you sure shouldn’t ponder telling a boy who thinks you hung the moon.” He paused when Eli quivered, burrowing closer. “Hate like hell you’ve carried those words. Fuck.” I can’t tell him, that’s his momma’s place. He squeezed the boy and pulled in a breath, waiting until he was again certain of a steady voice before he asked, “But, with that knowledge in your head, how does it
make you feel?”
“I’m glad he wasn’t my dad.” This admission surprised Duck, because in the pictures, Eli was always looking at Tommy. Taking a sip of his now stone-cold coffee, Duck wondered if it was more watching instead. “He was…you know how you can tell a lot about someone by their friends?” Duck nodded and Eli went on. “He was friends with Mister Nelms.”
Fuck. That right there gave voice to everything wrong. Ray had gotten to Brenda after all, just from a sideways angle, through her husband. Now, he had a dozen questions for Bee, would be asking them gently to find the truth. “My brother Ray was a right bastard.” He said this softly and the boy’s head moved up and down again in agreement, his cheek scrubbing against Duck’s shirt, the noise soft in the quiet of the morning.
“I would never have thought you were brothers,” Eli said and Duck snorted. The boy’s arm tightened around him, holding on in preparation for something. “Not just how different you looked, you know, the size, but…you’re nice. Like inside and out.” Eli paused for a moment, considering his words as cautiously as he had worked his embrace of Duck around earlier. “He wasn’t, and the more time Da—Tommy spent around him, the more he wasn’t either. I wasn’t sorry when Mister Nelms went away.”
“Me either, kid. I’ve worked my whole life to be a better person than my father and brother. Glad it’s apparent enough to notice.” Tightening his arm, he gave the boy a squeeze, reassuring Eli physically that badmouthing Duck’s son-of–a-bitch brother wasn’t going to rile him. He gave an inward snort. It was time to move this conversation on; he wouldn’t be saying anything more to Eli without talking to Brenda first, and that was definitely a pillow-talk conversation, not one to have in the harsh light of day. “Sun’s up enough to start chores. What’s on your list this morning?”
Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) Page 16
