A. Zavarelli - Stutter (Bleeding Hearts Book 2)

by Unknown

  “You would do that for her?”

  “I’d do it for you,” I insisted. “And it’s probably best she doesn’t go back to Illinois.”

  Her arms came around my waist and squeezed.

  “God, I love you.”

  My heart stuttered violently to life in my chest-like a car that had been left sitting too long. It always did when she said those words. I still found myself in a state of disbelief that she meant them half the time, but Brighton would never lie. She was too good for that.

  Pushing her hair back over her shoulders, I kissed her tenderly, infusing myself with her essence. It always felt like I was stealing something from her whenever I did this, but she gave it so willingly. A tiny mew stole from her lips when she felt my heat against her belly, and she rubbed against me like a greedy little kitten.

  “I need you,” she begged.

  My resulting groan was buried in the thickness of her hair as I groped around for her tits. Subsequently, I found the softness of her throat with my lips and chased the familiar urge of exerting my dominance. I needed to mark her. Claim her. Prove she was mine in every way.

  I walked her backwards until her legs hit the bed and eased her back. Then I just took a minute to let my eyes roam over her. She was so goddamn lovely, spread out like an offering against the black silk of the bed sheets. In a white bra and panties, no less. Her tits were ripe for the picking as they rose and fell in exaggerated breaths. She panted and whimpered, desperately swollen with my baby and a ferocious appetite for my cock.

  I wanted to devour her.

  Kneeling before her, I worshipped her body like the goddess she was. Mapping out her contours, my hands roved reverently about her breasts, her ribs, her stomach. So many things I wanted to do with her. Some items on the agenda would have to wait. Rough and tumble games I’d stow away for a rainy day. A day when the baby was already here, and I knew my dirty deeds wouldn’t cause harm. Perhaps while we worked on baby number two then?

  I smothered my face against her panties and inhaled like a junkie. Fucking Christ, her scent. I’d try to put it into words, but they wouldn’t do it justice. You’d just have to take my word that it couldn’t be beaten. Already damp, the thin cotton material stuck to her skin, and I pressed my fingers against it to soak it further. Always wet for me, my little lotus flower. Ah, the things she did to me.

  The animal in me stirred, and my teeth tugged on the elastic waistband. Apparently it wasn’t hasty enough for my little fiend. Her hips arched up and her fingers slid through my hair and tugged.

  “Please, Ryland.”

  Two distinct urges warred inside of me. I wanted to spank the shit out of her and put her in her place, but I also wanted to listen to her beg while she grinded on my face. Hm, quandaries, quandaries.

  I settled on slipping the panties down her thighs and tossing them to the floor before diving in. Lapping at her arousal with raucous slurping noises, she rewarded me with more. Her pussy soaked my lips and face as I fucked her unabashedly with my tongue. It wasn’t a chore with Brighton. It was an insatiable need. A fix all its own to experience her this way. I tried to tell her as much, but my words were muffled by her squeezing her thighs around my head. My little pet was being greedy again.

  I nipped at her clit in warning and she gasped. She shot me her best pouty eyes, and I grinned up at her.

  “You’ll get it when you get it,” I chastised her. “Or not at all if you keep pushing it.”

  She whined, and I went back to work, finger fucking her pussy the way the dirty little hellion liked. I coveted every gasp and mewl she made, committing them all to memory. Her tits bounced when she jerked around the bed, her head shaking violently from side to side on the pillow as she muttered incoherent nonsense. One might in fact wonder if I was performing an exorcism. Heh.

  So well I knew her body, her needs. I squeezed the fleshy part of her ass in my hands and tilted her pelvis just so. My fingers hooked inside of her, and she sobbed and lurched forward at the same time.

  Her muscles tautened and contracted as she arced up off the bed, gripping the sheets in her fists. It was coming, and it was going to be a tidal wave. I buried my face between her legs and let it wash over me, soaking up everything she had to give. My name echoed off the walls of our bedroom, and I took a primitive satisfaction in the raw intoxication of her voice.

  For a long while, I didn’t move, reveling in the sight of her coming down from a violent orgasm as she fought for breath. Her hair tangled around her face, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her brow. I had a notion to lick it off of her, but that would require breaking my reverent stare. It was always a war with me, between the watching and the doing. I was fond of drawing it out. Making it as painstakingly slow as I could.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Death by orgasm sounds like the way to go.”

  My quip was funny for all of two seconds before reality crept back in. I didn’t want to joke about losing her. Ever.

  Standing up, I discarded my clothes while Brighton watched with heavy lids. Her eyes roamed over my body while she bit her lip to hide a smile. Those eyes were the loudest thing about her. Volumes of emotions lived inside them, and right now they betrayed her hunger.

  “Like what you see, baby girl?” I teased.

  “You’re such a cocky bastard,” she giggled.

  I shrugged. “I’m your cocky bastard.”

  Taking my place on the bed, I relaxed against the headboard, cock standing at attention between my legs.

  “Come up here,” I ordered. “I want to watch you ride me.”

  “You mean you want to have access to my huge boobs so you can play with them the entire time,” she retorted.

  Again, I shrugged. No need to play coy.

  Brighton wiggled her way towards me, stretching her legs on opposite sides of my hips before planting her ass in my lap. Her hands used my shoulders as a springboard as she rubbed herself against my cock. A groan escaped in spite of my feigned composure.

  “Somebody’s being greedy,” she threw the words back at me as she slid along my length, teasing but not quite letting me inside.

  It was of little consequence to me. I leaned back and stretched my hands behind my head to enjoy the show. I could watch this all fucking day.

  Brighton threw her head back in laughter, taunting me with the creamy skin along her throat. Lusting for a taste of it, I bobbed forward and captured her around the waist, flicking my tongue against her pulse. That pulse beat for me. Without that pulse, I was nothing.

  That knowledge got me harder than anything else ever could. She was all mine to play with. To tease and taunt and fuck how I saw fit. My teeth scraped along her sensitive skin and brought on a welcome hitch in her breath. Brighton liked the anticipation. The ever present knowledge that I’d sink my teeth into her flesh, but never quite knowing where.

  Course, I had to be more cautious in the places I went about it these days. Another welcome side effect of her carrying my child. Even the sadist in me had a tender spot for the little fella. We didn’t want to harm him.

  At the base of her throat, I gave her just enough of a nip to leave a little mark. That would do quite nicely to distract. She moaned and tugged at my hair in a weak attempt to take back control by shoving my face against her skin. I used the hand resting on her tit to pinch the nipple at the same time I bit down on her shoulder.

  “Again,” she ordered.

  My palms squeezed her ass and then smacked it for good measure.

  “Sorry, my love,” my voice darkened. “Was that a command you just gave me?”

  “Please,” she begged recklessly. “Mark me again.”

  Hard fingers wrapped around her pony tail and gave a sharp tug. “Do you forget who you’re talking to?”

  Her eyes widened as her head rattled back and forth in a frantic effort. “Never,” she promised. “You’re in charge, Ryland.”

  I hummed my approva
l against the column of her neck, imbibing her scent in long, slow pulls. My lips roamed over the silken landscape of her skin, pausing to nip her earlobe before further exploration. She hissed in a breath, and I used the opportunity to latch onto her neck. Sucking her until she bruised, I soothed it over with my tongue while my fingers strummed circles over her back.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Covering her hand with mine, I dragged it down until it was wrapped around my cock. I liked to watch her play with it, to see the uncertainty bloom across her face as she handled the beast. She made a fist and gave a couple light tugs before teasing my balls with the pads of her fingers. Something else she liked to play with. I wasn’t complaining.

  My head fell back, and I urged her forward. Without much decorum, her breast was promptly stuffed into my mouth while she pleasured me. I wanted to be inside of her, but prolonging her defiant foreplay seemed like an acceptable alternative.

  Throughout the progression of her pregnancy, her nipples had grown sweeter. I wasn’t imagining things, they tasted like frigging candy and I couldn’t get enough of them. Each pink confection received an appropriate amount of tongue lashing before I repeated the process on the other side. Every time I deemed myself satisfied, I went back in for just another sip. That’s how it always begins, isn’t it? Just another taste? I groaned out my frustration while rubbing the soft mounds all over my face.

  Brighton giggled and then sobered.

  “I want you to fuck me hard,” she whispered.

  My eyes roamed over hers, staggered by the fear of rejection that lied within. Before I even got a chance to say anything at all, she continued to state her case.

  “I asked the doctor, and she said it’s fine as long as nothing hurts.”

  My hands cradled her face, and I gave her a tender kiss. She melted against me in one breath, and in the next attempted to stage a protest. My fingers hardened around her jaw and bit into the skin, eliciting a gasp as my lips moved to her ear.

  “You want my filthy words, baby girl?”

  “Yes.” She panted.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you to say dirty things.”

  My tongue clicked, and I shook my head in disappointment. “Too vague. Sorry, baby.”

  She wailed in frustration and gave me her widest, most innocent eyes. “Please, Ryland?”

  “Please what?” I mocked her, my hands gentle as a Spring breeze as they glided over her skin.

  “Please fuck me and make it good.”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “You wound me, baby girl. Is it not always good?”

  She had the decency to look ashamed of her jumbled up words. “Yes, of course it is. Always. The best…”

  “Okay, now you’re just going overboard. No need to gloat.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she tried to pull away. “Just forget it,” she ranted.

  I snatched her arm and held in her place with a sadistic grin. Oh how I loved when she took a tone with me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She opened her mouth, and I crushed my lips against hers, shocking the hell out of her. My teeth snagged the plump bottom lip and tugged sharply. She whined out her pleasure and dug her fingers into my shoulders.

  My erection had the nerve to start grinding against her belly. Impatient little fuck.

  “Stand up,” I barked.

  She scurried to her feet like a good little soldier and awaited my instructions with clasped hands.

  “I’m not going to fuck you hard, Brighton.”

  Another protest was on the verge of her lips as she blinked up at me, and I silenced her with a look. She’d learned to love the pain I bestowed her. Now she craved it. She wasn’t the only one who missed it.

  “You’ve got my baby inside of you,” I scolded as I pressed her against my chest. “We aren’t going to risk it. But I’ll give you what you need.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  I turned her to face the wall and pushed her palms up against it.

  “Open your legs for me, dirty girl.”

  She did.

  The engorged purple head of my cock didn’t waste any time seeking out her heat as I rubbed myself against her. Dipping inside of her once just to get wet, I smeared some of that wetness over her ass.

  A pause. I waited for the all clear from ground control.

  “Yes, please…” she moaned. “Please, Ryland.”

  “Okay, baby,” I cooed. “No need to ask me twice.”

  I slipped inside of her with a torrent of curse words. Her toes curled into the carpet and her spine arced into a beautiful curve once I’d rooted myself fully.

  “Good girl.” My praises were punctuated by tender kisses down her back and across her shoulders. “Such a good girl for me.”

  She quaked beneath my praise and tried to rock back against me. I stilled her with my fingers in her mouth.

  “Suck.”

  She did.

  Once they were nice and wet, I brought them down over her clit and coaxed some more incoherent babble from her lips.

  “This is mine,” I informed her.

  “Yes, yes, yes…” she agreed enthusiastically.

  “My pussy.” Thrust. “My ass.” Thrust. “My filthy little mouth to fuck when I please.” Thrust.

  “Yes, Ryland!”

  Her voice tinged with excitement, and my cock swelled with every throaty murmur.

  “You’ll never take it away from me again.”

  “No, never.” She shook.

  My thumb flattened against her clit and she bucked against me, screaming out profanities. What an utterly sweet debauchee she’d turned into.

  She rode my palm, pistoning me faster, harder. I allowed her take over the pace because it felt too fucking good not to. She trembled and constricted around me, searing me with scorching heat as savage shock waves tore through her body. Already on the verge of exploding myself, her next words propelled me over the brink.

  “I’ll never leave you again, Ryland.”

  “Oh, Christ.” I threw my head back on a groan. My cock jerked violently, spewing boiling hot lava deep inside of her.

  Brighton collapsed back against my chest, and I barely made it to the bed before we both fell in a heap. Completely unaware of how profoundly she affected me, she curled up like a kitten and promptly went to sleep in my arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Brighton

  After two weeks of moping around, I finally decided that I needed to stop stressing over Brayden. I’d left him texts and voicemails to call me, and I hoped that he would. But in the meantime, I needed to focus on getting ready for the baby which meant house shopping.

  When Ryland made the appointment with the realtor, I had no idea what kind of houses he had in mind for us. But when I saw them, I was utterly speechless.

  They were the kind of houses I’d only ever seen in magazines. Top of the line luxury with more space than I even knew what to do with. From turn of the century in Pacific Heights to art deco in Sea Cliff, we saw them all. The realtor had an excited gleam in her eye as she led us from property to property, no doubt tallying up the commission she was about to rake in. But Ryland didn’t really seem to have an opinion one way or the other, simply asking me what I thought of each one as we went. Until we got to the last and final house.

  On Belvedere Island.

  His whole demeanor changed as we drove down Golden Gate Avenue and pulled into the gated driveway of the white mansion overlooking the sea. I threaded my fingers through his and squeezed, giving him a soft smile as the car came to a stop. I never would have guessed that he’d even consider a house so close to his old family home, but there was something in his eyes that told me differently. It was a small spark of hope.

  “I’d understand if you didn’t want to live here,” he said. “But I grew up in this community, and I know the people. I think it’s a great place to raise kids, and
I wanted you to see this place before you make a decision.”

  I leaned up and kissed him before the realtor ruined our moment by delving into details about the architecture. Ryland helped me from the car, and I got a good look at the palatial Queen Anne style mansion perched on a prime piece of San Francisco real estate. It was elegant, yet in an understated way, which I liked. It looked like a real home, albeit a very large one. The realtor started rattling off features as I tried to take it all in. The property came with wraparound porches, a solarium, and a carriage house. As she commenced the tour, she pointed out each feature as we went along.

  “Herringbone oak floors, mahogany doors, marble bathrooms…”

  I stopped listening as I tried to take it all in. It was honestly the most beautiful home I’d ever seen. Everything inside was filled with natural light, creating a relaxed and happy atmosphere. In the back, the views of the city skyline and Angel Island were unrivaled. There was a pool and garden, and even an outdoor breakfast nook. The property had more bedrooms than Ryland and I could ever use in a lifetime, but he mentioned something about getting a housekeeper upon my pointing that out.

  When I glanced up to see how carefully he was watching me, it was obvious how much he wanted this place. This was where he felt most at home. Where he wanted to settle down and make a lifetime of memories. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think it’s completely crazy.” I smiled up at him. “But I love it.”

  He looked relieved. “You do?”

  “I’d be crazy not to.”

  “Agreed,” the realtor chimed in.

  We both laughed and took a moment to stare out at the skyline before Ryland spoke again.

  “Let’s do it,” he said. “I want to put in an offer today.”

  ***

  Once Ryland set things in motion, it took us all of three weeks to get settled into our new house. The realtor told me she appreciated that he was a man who got things done quickly. I simply laughed. She had no idea what Ryland could accomplish when he set his mind to it.