Gypsy Hope: A Gypsy Beach Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “Is this good? I’m still not sure what to do exactly.”

  “You’re doing just fine, sugar. My God that’s incredible.” He gasped for breath as she gave a slow suck of his head. “You really want a lesson?”

  “Yes. Tell me, please.”

  “Keep your hand tight right here.” He wrapped it around the base of his shaft. “Suck, and lick the rest like it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted.”

  “I do really love the way you taste.” Her breasts moved up and down along his thighs with her frantic breaths. She lapped at his head again and then spun her tongue around his ridge. He shuddered in extreme pleasure. His heart thundered in his chest. God, how could he possibly be lucky enough to be the one to teach her this?

  “Holy hell. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

  She giggled. It was sexy as sin. “See, I told you books were the best place to learn stuff. The guy in the book liked this.” She proceeded to lower her head further and give several soft suckles of his balls. Brock came up off of the mattress.

  His growl of desperation shook the bed. “Hell yeah, I like it. My God, that’s good.” His body rolled under hers. His hand wound through her hair. All sense of propriety or trying to let her learn him was gone. He needed more.

  “You really want to know what I want?”

  Hope’s heart flew. She’d never felt so overtly erotic. The scorching brand of burning possession that darkened his eyes drove her wild. “Tell me,” she breathed over his cock as it gave another heated throb then licked her lips in hopeful expectation.

  His jaw clenched as if he was trying to dam back the very words she so longed to hear. “Please, Brock. Tell me what you want.” She spun her tongue around his tip once more, tempting him to give her direction. His hips lifted in hunger, but he continued to be stubborn, so she continued her coercion until his jaw unhinged in a primal cry of need.

  “Put my cock in your mouth like a good girl. Suck it hard until I explode. Then drink it all. Do it now. Moan so deep I can feel it. Show me how much you like it.”

  Hope felt her mind spin in a sexual frenzy of elation. She wanted to do exactly what he’d requested. The perfection of it all swelled through her in a heady tidal wave of power as she began to suck. He held her hair, guiding her. Of every sexual experience they’d shared in the last few days, this one was entirely different, but she loved it just as much. She loved him, and she wanted to show him that. With fervor, she drew him in her mouth and licked and sucked. The very essence of him dripped in salty beads on her tongue. Working on instinct alone, she opened her mouth and showed him before she returned to her work. His moans seemed to come from deep within his soul. He growled out his pleasure. The passion flowed between them endlessly. She flew with it.

  Brock had never in his life felt anything like this. Sure, he’d had numerous nameless women suck him off, but this—this was more. This was everything. That curious, hungry look in her eyes and her lapping tongue were perfection. Her flushed cheeks hollowed as she sucked. Her hair teased at his thighs and she cupped his sac, making his entire being frantic for release. What she might’ve lacked in experience she more than made up for in voracity and exuberance. Either that or she needed to keep reading those damn books, because this was absolutely incredible. He knew it wasn’t the books, or her experience level. No, it was her. It was the perfection of Hope.

  “Sweetheart, I’m about to lose it. You’re too much.”

  She moaned again and turned her soft suckles into rushed drags of his cock. His entire world unhinged. His mind fractured into thousands of unrecognizable pieces then focused solely on her. The one guiding light in his universe. The only thing that would ever make sense.

  The mattress, the bed, the room itself spun away from his consciousness. His release flooded her mouth, and she did indeed stay with him until she’d swallowed it all. Then she released him with a broad grin. She looked very proud of her work.

  “Come here to me.” He guided her up in the bed and onto his chest. “I have no idea what I did to deserve that, but it was clearly something really good. Like I saved the world or something.”

  She dissolved in a fit of giggles. His mind had just enough functioning brain cells at that moment to hold a debate on which was sexier—her laughter or her moans of pleasure.

  “That’s what I’m going to think about all day while I’m alphabetizing books.”

  “Is it, darlin’?” His entire being rang with elation and contentment, and damn if the combination didn’t feel astounding. “Well, anytime you need something to distract you from Old Vampira, you let me know.”

  They both laughed as they recalled Hope’s tale about the little boy believing that Ms. Meecham was a vampire. “Vampira won’t be there today, remember? If I didn’t have to get out of this bed and leave you I’d be excited to go to work. On the weekends I get to run the library the way I want. You know, more like a library and less like boot camp. I’m surprised she doesn’t demand that the books stand up straighter.”

  Brock decided that since her boss wasn’t going to know if she was a few minutes late or not he might as well take advantage of the situation. Keeping her cradled to him, he turned her so she was pinned between his body and the mattress. “You don’t have to go just yet do you?”

  That coy pink heat that always flushed her cheeks added to her perfection as she shook her head.

  “Good.”

  *******

  “You didn’t have to bring me to work,” Hope fussed yet again.

  “My truck runs a hell of a lot faster than that granny-mobile you drive. Sit tight, sugar. It’s my fault you’re late anyway.”

  The grin of supreme satisfaction she’d been sporting most of the morning returned to her beautiful face. It delighted Brock. “I don’t care if I’m late. That was worth it.”

  Brock noted the orange and black signs on the side of the road. He just had no hope of reading the print on them.

  “Oh, no,” Hope sighed.

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you see all of the cones and caution signs? It said they’ve closed Country Club and Ravenswood for resurfacing.”

  “I didn’t notice. Too busy thinking about this morning.” There, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

  “We’ll have to go back around and get on 210. We’re both going to be late.”

  “We don’t have to go all the way back to 210. I’ll get you there.” Brock had driven around lost enough when he’d first gotten his license to figure out every back road in Pender county. He’d stay out in his ancient truck his mother had gotten for him on his sixteenth birthday until he was sure his old man had passed out for the night, then he’d go home.

  “Are you sure? It said all of the surface streets were closed. Here I’ll pull it up on my phone.” She did something with her phone. His nerves were instantly on edge. “This has us going back to Cordgrass,” she informed him.

  “Hope. Chill, okay? I said I’d get you there. Obviously, I can’t read directions off your phone while I drive.” He sounded far angrier than he’d intended. This entire situation delved far too deeply into a scar that would never heal.

  Thirty tense minutes later, he’d managed enough back roads to get her to the library.

  “Thanks for dropping me off.” She shrank away from him, only serving to make him feel even worse for his outburst.

  “You okay? I didn’t mean to yell at you. I … just feel bad I made you late.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t really yell. No one’s here, so it’s no big deal.”

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “Yeah.” You just don’t want to love me for a lifetime. “I get off at five.”

  “I’ll be right here waiting. We’re gonna have fun tonight. You’ll see. Camping is awesome, and so is the winery.”

  “I really can’t wait.” The nervous tension that had hardened her features eased into her sweet grin, and his heart located a steady cadence.
<
br />   “Me either.” He leaned and brushed his lips across hers. He just needed one quick taste to get through the day. Well, maybe more than one, he decided as he turned his head and extended the kiss.

  “I have to go.” She giggled as she slid from the passenger seat and raced towards the doors with an adorable wave as she ran.

  *******

  At a quarter to five, Hope checked the clock for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes.

  “Where are you so anxious to get to tonight, Hope?” Amy Rigsby, one of the assistants, asked as she scanned a dozen books on pregnancy for a nervous woman standing at the counter. Hope smiled at Amy and once again admired the rather large tattoo of the Hogwarts Crest from Harry Potter tattooed on her cleavage. She had to wear something to cover it up when Ms. Meecham was working, but on Saturdays she usually showed it off. It was impressive. Distracted momentarily by thinking about what kind of tattoo she would get if she had the guts to do such a thing and then what her aunt would say about that, she shook herself and refocused on Amy’s question.

  “I’m going camping with Brock. I can’t wait.”

  They waved to the woman as she left and both sank down in chairs behind the circulation desk to rest after the busy day.

  Amy laughed. “Heck, I’d be excited if Brock Camden was taking me to the dentist. He’s so cute. I hope you have fun. You’re perfect together.”

  A slight sense of predatory ownership sizzled through Hope’s veins. It set her on edge, but Amy’s sweet grin said she was only teasing.

  “I think we are, too. I just have to get him to admit that.”

  “Oh, so, I guess that means you’re not married.”

  All of the blood flowing rapidly throughout Hope’s body froze at the sound of Hannah Power’s voice. Against her better judgment, she stood to meet Hannah’s malevolent glare. Vile vindictiveness was pinned on every perfect curve of Hannah’s body. Her crystal blue eyes were frozen in malicious spite.

  “Hannah?” Hope attempted to swallow down her terrorizing fear. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, Hope. Don’t let her intimidate you. Brock’s soothing tenor sounded firmly in her head. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  Hannah laughed in her face. “You really think you’re something, don’t you? Keeping Brock Camden’s bed warm. Yeah, that’s an achievement.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get so busy patting yourself on the back that you forget half the county has already had that privilege.”

  Amy stood and glared hatefully at Hannah. “Who is this total bee-yatch, Hope?”

  “No one.” Hope felt that determination she always felt when she was in Brock’s arms stiffen her spine. “She’s no one. She chased Brock all through high school. He hates her. She’s still mad. How sad is that? We graduated years ago, Hannah. Get a life.” There. That felt amazing. Hope ordered her hands and her vocal chords to stop quivering quite so violently. She’d done it. She’d stood up for herself, just like Brock taught her.

  Hannah edged closer, and Hope instinctively stepped back. Like a fly snared in a spider’s web, there wasn’t any real means of escape. A venomous grin, more horrible than her scowl, formed on Hannah’s perfect lips. “Oh honey, you are really sad. I chased Brock to make him feel good. We needed those footballs caught, after all. I would never have actually dated him. He’s too stupid to live. I prefer men that have something in both heads, not just the one between their legs.”

  Hope scoffed, though the earlier fire she’d felt was quickly dissipating. Hannah knew something. That much was obvious. “Brock is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

  Haughty, malignant laughter filled the lacking air between them, suffocating Hope. “He can’t even read, Hope. You didn’t really honestly believe that he wanted you to sit with him in Biology, did you? My God, he ruled the school. Any girl in the whole school would’ve jumped at the chance to be near him, and he knew it. He wanted you so he could get you to do the work for him. He used you. His dad worked out a deal with my father and Coach Chaney. The teachers would pass Brock as long as he played football and baseball and brought home the state championship. He can’t read. He had no hope of passing, but Coach wanted that trophy. Brock and his sanctimonious cowboy shit, always trying to do right by everyone to make up for the fact that the entire school was cheating him through. I had plans for you, senior year, that he stopped. I don’t forgive easily, so when you bring this up the next time he tries to stick his cock down your throat, tell him I always have the final say.” She spun and marched out of the Pender County Library in a storm of triumphant revenge.

  “Hope?” Amy gently placed her hand on Hope’s shoulder, but she shook it off. Hot tears welled in her eyes and burned her cheeks. “Is that really true? Can Brock not read?”

  A thousand facts Hope had never wanted to acknowledge tallied in her mind all in reverse order. “I obviously can’t read that while I drive. I didn’t notice the caution sign. Too busy thinking about this morning.” His sudden anger at new directions. The fact that he never returned her texts. He always called. “Uh, do you still have the surf and turf special?” “Yeah, it’s right there.” He couldn’t read the new menu. It took Hope a full minute to understand that the world itself wasn’t shaking. It was only her.

  The order for shingles. He was so angry with himself, but he’d had no hope of placing an order like that correctly. “I don’t know what Ryan was thinking. I’m not a foreman.” She’d always known that he cheated off of her papers in school, but he never got the same grade. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t really tell what she’d written.

  But why? Why had he never told her? She would have helped him. This was why he hated to talk about his high school football trophies or the no-hitter. This, she realized as Amy helped guide her back into the chair and raced to get her some water, this was why he’d turned down all of those scholarships. This was why he’d never gone back to Nebraska. A fevered flush flooded through her. She felt woozy. How could he never have told her? She would have kept his secret. She would’ve done anything for him.

  Another round of racking sobs worked through her when she realized that this was why he kept saying that she wouldn’t always want him. The constant shiver of her body betrayed her tears, but the maelstrom of thoughts all seemed to converge at that moment. “Well, that’s what happens when someone with a good heart and a good soul lets somebody else convince their mind someum’s good for ‘um they know isn’t.” Molly. That’s what she’d been talking about. How many other people knew what had happened to him?

  “I have to talk to Brock.” She finally managed to speak and to come up with some sort of plan.

  “Well, good, because he just pulled up. You go on. I’ll close everything up.” Amy gave her another consolatory hand squeeze, but Hope couldn’t seem to make her body move. She didn’t have any idea what to say to him.

  “He’s coming in.” Amy hissed when Brock appeared looking concerned. It was after five now.

  “Hope, sweetie, what’s wrong?” He rushed to her when he realized she was crying. All she could manage was the shake of her head. Her heart ached. There were too many emotions to sort through. She didn’t want to be angry at him, but why had he never told her? Why had he agreed to do something like that? How had a stupid football trophy become more important to teachers and administrators than Brock’s life? And most importantly, how did she convince him that she loved him anyway?

  “What the hell happened?” he demanded of Amy.

  “Oh, uh, well. She’s … just … confused … no … sick. Yes. She’s not feeling well.” Amy seemed pleased with her excuse, but that was probably the worst possible thing to have said to Brock about Hope. He constantly worried about her. He always had.

  Kneeling in front of her, panic clouded his eyes. “Hope, baby?” He brushed her damp hair away from her face and used the back of his hand to check and see if she had a fever. How could he be so sweet and still not trust her enough to tell her that his
whole entire life had been affected by his horrible father and a football coach? “You okay? Come on. I’ll take you to that clinic on Fremont.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied, and he knew it.

  “You’re not fine.”

  “Well, I’m not sick.” She stood and accepted her purse from Amy before she whisked out the doors. She had no choice but to let him drive her home. They were supposed to go camping. Their reservations at the winery were in an hour. Reservations he’d asked her to make, of course. But she couldn’t manage any of that. They had to talk, but how were you supposed to ask a grown man if he could read and leave him any dignity at all?

  “You want to give me a clue as to what has you so upset?” he urged again as he joined her in the cab of his truck.

  “I don’t know. I need to think.”

  Frantic, Brock racked his brain as to what the hell had her so upset. He pulled out of the parking lot and took what he thought was a decent guess. “Was it Meecham? Because if she’s being a bitch to you again I’ll go back in there and give her a piece of my mind.”

  “She wasn’t there.” Another round of sobs shattered through the tight grip she was trying desperately to keep locked on her emotions.

  “K, well, we finished the roof and loaded the shelves back inside. I set it up the way you had it before.”

  “Thank you.” The simple phrase brought on another deluge of tears.

  The pavement construction had stopped for the evening and the street had opened back up to some degree. They were down to raw gravel awaiting a layer of blacktop the next day. The truck shook as he drove. The reverberations echoed in his chest. He felt hollow. He couldn’t stand it when she cried. It killed him. She’d been through so much already. They would be slightly delayed, but it was still only 10 minutes from the library to her house. He needed to come up with something quickly.