by Dani Wyatt
My noises are his undoing. As my body shakes and quivers around him, he growls and his head falls back, his mouth open. He cums with me, flooding my body with hot, sticky, white cream and my orgasm doubles and topples over itself, and again I feel him fill me with his seed.
I’m left panting, holding on for dear life as he pulls out of me and gently kisses my lips. His tongue, warm and wet, traces inside my mouth as he lifts me up and sets me down, my bare feet touching the cool, brick floor of the kitchen.
He pulls back and smiles that smile that invented smiling.
“That one did it. I’m sure.” He pecks my cheek, then each of my eyelids, then stands up and plays with the ponytail that runs a mile down my back.
“I hope so. Now I’m a mess and they should be here in five minutes.”
“I love you messy.” He kisses me again and the sun glints off the texture of his scars. “I want cum running down your legs. Don’t you dare go wash it off, I want to think about my seed covering you the rest of the day.”
He pulls up his jeans, wrestling with his cock, trying to get it inside while it's still hard.
“He’s ready for more.” He jokes. And if he wanted me again I would not deny him. But his cheeky smile tells me he knows there is work to do before everyone gets here.
I run my hands over the broad, flat planes of his chest, filled with a joy and contentment that I thought was reserved for all the other people. The not-me people. Beckett has done a good job deprogramming me.
“So, what can I do? I’ve got the grill smoking. The lawn is cut. Baby’s sleeping. What can I do?”
“I know Jordan will want to ride when they get back, and maybe Louis too. Not Bruce.” I roll my eyes and Beckett chuckles. “So, maybe bring the horses into the barn.”
“Bruce hasn’t taken to the farm life. I think the horse’s dicks intimidate him.”
“Beck!” I swat him with a towel as I turn toward the sink.
It’s been a crazy year. Beckett bought this house and land the day after Jordan and Louis came back from Cairo. Gave it to me as a surprise two days later when I left the hospital.
And, I’m happy to report, I have not had to take the Zoloft since my new doctor successfully weaned me off of it. There have been no lasting effects and no other events. Seems that I should have never been on that particular medication, turns out I am extremely sensitive to it. And not just that either, most medicines. Which has turned me into a bit of a health nut.
Everything we have here comes from our organic garden during the months when it’s growing, or there is a great organic market every Saturday in the city. Beckett, Jordan and I load up our empty shopping bags, a few bushel baskets, and Cherish, and we make a day of it.
Today, Louis is coming home. He spent four months in a minimum security facility for falsifying evidence to the police. We were surprised he got any time, but you just never know where the justice will fall.
I have a full art studio in one of the bedrooms. I’ve been painting every extra moment I have because I have my first show coming up next month. It’s nothing big, but it’s a gallery in downtown. Edgy, hipster kind of place. Beckett is more excited than me.
Jeremy is going to spend a lot more time behind bars than Louis has. He’s been charged with murder. Aiding me in setting the fires that killed Beckett’s mom and sister has no statute of limitations because it is a capital crime. He’s put in a plea of no contest, which was a godsend because it meant that for us, it was all over. No trial, no need to go over the past in front of inquiring eyes.
As for Holly, she has disappeared into the abyss again. I am comfortable with her life being her life. I know she must be in a lot of pain to do the things she does. Beckett has taught me to let go. I think most people are good, but sometimes they are in pain and that pain makes them do things that hurt others. My only wish for her is that she finds her own peace someday.
“I think I hear the car.” Beckett reaches down to take my hand. His is warm, rough from the work he’s been doing around here. Rebuilding the old barn, the chicken coup and generally taking to being as close to domesticated as he will ever be. He’s still an animal in some ways, but his heart is the kindest and most giving I’ve ever known.
We walk in step toward the open front door, holding hands, and walk out onto the porch in time to see Bruce’s silver truck inch into a parking spot in front of the garage, tires crunching on the gravel drive. Beckett squeezes my hand and my heart flutters.
We’ve come so far and I only hope Louis will be able to re-build his life and his relationship with Jordan.
The three of them tumble out of the truck, grinning like three frat boys coming home from a road trip.
Louis looks up to see us and gives Beckett a playful salute. Before he was sentenced, Louis had already settled Beckett into his new position at his company. He is surrounded by experts that have helped him to steer the ship, but since Louis has been gone, Beckett has opened two new divisions in new states. Profits are up, he’s created some new inventive systems for their private security detail and generally is loved by almost everyone that works there.
Oh, and there was this envelope on the counter at the loft. When Beckett had the moving company bring everything here, we finally unpacked some mail that had been sitting on the counter top there for far too long. A few unpaid bills and a surprise.
From the day we met . . . well, met as adults I should say . . . our lives were a roller-coaster. It's not really surprising that a bit of mail was overlooked.
When we finally got around to opening everything, there was a letter from the probate court about unclaimed property.
It turned out to be much more than that.
Beckett’s grandfather, his mother’s father, passed away years ago. But his grandmother apparently died only a month before he came back from duty. He’d never seen them and knew only what his mother told him. Well, it seems that they left a sizable estate. It came up as unclaimed property when Beckett filed his father’s death certificate. It was a mistake, but in the end Beckett’s mother was their only child. And upon his grandmother’s death, the estate moved into a trust in his name.
It’s icing on the cake to be honest. The money doesn’t do much for Beckett, he has no interest in material possessions and honestly neither do I. But it secures things for the future for Jordan and Cherish. And however many more siblings we can produce.
Beckett’s book did well. They want a follow up, but he’s not sure. Between running EyesOn, the farm here, and taking care of me in the way that suits him, he doesn’t know if there will be a follow up. He volunteers at CPS as well. He's a force of nature. I’m not sure when he sleeps. He’s the first one up with Cherish in the morning and after he tucks me in with a few orgasms, I know he gets back up and works some more.
So, between the book, all the money he’s saved, his salary from EyesOn and the inheritance, I don’t even honestly know what our bank accounts look like. He takes care of all of that and he takes care of me.
The fire at the loft was caused by the oven as they always said, but in fact it was a faulty igniter inside the oven. There was a slow gas leak that filled the apartment with just enough gas, then when the igniter sparked, it did what it did. The day I was released from the hospital, Northrup called to let us know. It won’t bring Beckett’s dad back, but it is easier to move on knowing it really was just an accident. Jeremy’s not a good guy, but I honestly didn’t think he was capable of that, and it turns out I was right. Getting myself cleared as well certainly was a welcome piece of information.
It’s like we were tumbling around in this hurricane for so long, then suddenly all the pieces started to settle around us. Building us a life that neither of us could have ever dreamed.
Jordan is here with us and although Louis will be a huge part of his life, he needs me and I need him. Louis is only five acres away and now that he’s home we will all start re-building something new and better with our unconventional family.
Bruce is grinning even more than usual as the three musketeers meet us at the top of the porch steps.
Louis stands in front of Beck, who let's go of my hand and opens his arms to his friend.
They lean into a hug that brings tears to my eyes, as Jordan comes to stand next to me with his own smile.
“Hey.” I tousle his stick-straight, white-blond hair, and look down into his eyes. Louis’s eyes, but they inhabit my brother’s face.
“Hey.” He smirks at me. “Can I go ride?”
He’s found his passion and he smells like it most of the time. I’m sure a lot of people would find the hint of horse and manure that Jordan wears nearly 24 hours a day off putting, but not me. It is the smell of home, of happiness and I don’t even grouch at him when he stomps dirty footprints across the floors.
“Sure. We’re going to eat in about two hours.”
He bounds off the steps in one bounce and he’s around the house and out of sight toward the barn.
Bruce has a sheepish look on his face and I narrow my eyes at him. He’s become part of the family and I thank the Lord every day that he forced his goofy friendship onto me. He is a blessing in more ways than I can describe.
“What’s with you?” I ask as he shift his weight. I see a quick dance of his eyes go over to Louis who is just releasing Beckett from his bear hug.
“Nothing.” He fights a smile and clears his throat, and there is another glance at Louis, who is now looking at me with the same cat-that-ate-the-canary look that Bruce has.
“Wait a minute.” I point at Bruce then at Louis. “Did you know about this?” I glare at Beckett who puts his hands up in the air. He’s still shirtless and for a second I forget what I am getting upset about.
“I’m just an innocent bystander. My spidey sense didn’t pick up on anything until just now.”
“Pick up on what?” Bruce snorts.
“On you two.” I point again, this time obviously wagging my finger between the two of them as they step closer to one another.
“What can I say, I have a weakness for convicts.” Bruce breaks into a huge smile and Louis reaches down and takes his hand.
“And I apparently have a weakness for bald nurses who write really hot letters to convicts.”
I smile. “Holy crap.” I'm shaking my head as I move forward and get them both in a group hug.
Beckett joins in, standing behind me, the weight of his hands on my shoulders telling me, as always, that I am safe and loved.
“So, if you don’t mind, if there’s time between now and dinner we’re going to head back over to my place.” Louis looks like a little kid.
“Take your time.” Beckett says as they give us one more look and then practically run off the porch and into Bruce’s pick up, which spins its tires as he backs out of the driveway. The last thing we hear is Bruce’s voice through the open window, waving, with a loud, “Yee haw!”
I’m still in shock when Beckett’s hand comes down on my ass with a loud ‘swat’.
“Owww! What?”
“Jordan’s riding, they’re gone, Cherish is sleeping, we’ve got an hour before anyone else gets here. Get that sweet ass upstairs, I’m going to lay you on the bed and make you cum until you stop breathing.”
“You’re going to kill me then? Death by orgasm?”
“What a way to go, babe.”
Another bright swat on my ass and I’m giggling as he chases me up the stairs. When we get to the bedroom, I stop short. Leaning up against the pillows of the bed is an ornate gold frame, and inside, under glass, a sketch of Cherish and Jordan, centered in a cream colored paper with space around them on all sides.
“Oh Beck, it’s beautiful.”
It’s his signature drawing style, only their faces are clear, without the usual words that shade and contour his other sketches. At the bottom there is his classic cursive.
I walk close, sit down on the edge of the bed and lift the frame so I can see all the beautiful details of the baby looking back at me. As I read the writing at the bottom of the piece my eyes prick and I bite my lip.
“See, all this space around here? It’s so I can add all the other babies we are going to make. By the time we’re done, this entire page will be filled with little faces we made together.”
I nod, my fingers tracing the glass.
“Oh baby, don’t cry.”
Beckett takes the frame and hangs it on a hook he’s already placed on the wall opposite the bed, then strides back to me and lifts me to him, leaning down to scoop me into his lap as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He repeats the words from the paper in my ear.
“Devine am I.” He whispers. “Inside and out, because of you. Because of us.”
And if you like your romance a little rough and your
Alphas over the top
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BABY
CHAPTER ONE
Ryder
It made me want to puke the way they treated her. What a fucked up family. Sitting there, slobbering all over themselves thinking their little princess was about to snag me like a bitch and make them some kind of second rate, trailer trash royalty. If they only knew what they had coming, they’d be running for the tin can where they came from.
Don’t get me wrong, I grew up in that same trash heap down at the bottom of Eight Mile. Yeah, there was a movie about it, that’s where I grew up. And, that’s where her family still remain. Only, they don’t have any fucking idea what I know about their precious Theresa, a.k.a. Trixie, and it’s about to go viral.
“Baby, why didn’t you wear the suit? This is a special night.” Trixie Whitehouse sat there like a smug version of cartoon royalty with her strapless orange nightmare barely holding up the weight of her third round of silicone implants.
“I don’t wear what you tell me to wear.” I leaned back in my chair, my eyes barely able to stay off the ultimate prize which sat like a demure china doll next to her parents. I had on my fatigues, I knew it would piss off Trixie, and I also knew my babygirl loved me in my camo, so . . . bonus.
“Chloe, go get us two more Bud’s. NOW.” Edgar Whitehouse was too lazy to get his own beer from the bar, so he sent his youngest daughter to do his dirty work. What a fuck.
I wanted to jump across that eight top and smash the ten teeth he had left down his throat. But, I knew that would be too much for my little girl, so I rolled my eyes and swallowed deep. Counting the minutes until I could get the fuck out of here.
“Baby! Why aren’t you listening to me??” Trixie looked like a ten cent whore and her breath smelled like a trashcan filled with ten kinds of cheap liquor and a hundred ashtrays. She made my stomach turn. It was one of her other skanky friend’s getting married and she was in the bridal party. I was thankful, because it meant she was sitting at the head table and not with me.
“What?” It was all I could do not to push her face away from me and flatten her on the ground. In her condition, it was only a matter of time before she ended up on the floor, but I didn’t want to be the one to put her there. At least not in front of my angel.
“Why are you such a grump.” Trixie pouted, with a distorted fantasy that somehow I might think looking at her bratty face was cute.
“I’m not a grump but you are drunk and if you don’t know by now how I hate . . .” I let my voice trail off.
What the fuck did I care? She knew how I felt about it, and she chose to thr
ow back as many shots as the bartender would serve at once along with the other Orange Crush contingent that stood next to the bride.
She wasn’t going to listen anyway. Her attention span made a flea look focused. I looked over at my girl walking back from the bar, her hands gripping two brown bottles with red and white labels, setting them down in front of the toothless wonder and his lovely bride who applied her eyeliner as thick as her lipstick. Besides her raccoon eyes and smeared red lips, there wasn’t a bottle of peroxide left at Walmart from the looks of her hair.
“Mom!” Trixie screamed across the table.
I took a deep breath, all I wanted to do was grab my baby’s hand and get her the hell out of here. She looked so lost and out of place with this circus sideshow. How the fuck she came from the same place as the rest of these freaks is beyond me.
I was only here for her, she had begged me not to end it yet officially with Trix. I wasn’t even sure why her sister even thought we were still together. I hadn’t touched her, even kissed her since I got back. But, as long as my baby was still in that house with these freaks, I was trying to keep her life from being even worse, so I played along.
“Yes princess?” Elvira’s twin leaned her elbows on the table, taking a deep draw from the long neck brown bottle, wiping the back of her hand over her chin when she couldn’t even manage to keep the beer from dribbling out of her lips.
“Don’t you think Ryder looks older? I think he got older while he was sitting in that desert for so long. Baby, did you get older?” They both laughed.
“Yep, older and wiser.” I spat back as my gut clenched.
Trixie leaned over, her hand on my leg and her triple D silicone popping out the top of the cheap cream-sickle dress. It felt like acid was burning through my pants where she rested her hand and I couldn’t breathe for another second around her.
