I place soft kisses on her pussy as she comes down from her high. She touches my face gently. “Holy fuck, Tyson. That was so beautiful. Thank you.”
My cock is straining and so hard, it hurts. “I want to come inside you. I want to fill you with my cum.” The truth is like an animal I want to mark her. I want to wash away all traces of him. I want to own her pussy.
She nods. I stand up and take her to the edge of the bed. I remove my clothes quickly then I sit on the edge of the bed. Tenderly, I pull her so she is sitting astride my thighs.
“I want you to ride me until I come inside you. I want to see you grind on me.”
“Yes,” she moans, staring at my cock. She is so turned on her clit is protruding out of its hood.
I position her entrance on my thick cock and push her shoulders down, and watch her sink onto my cock. I watch her pussy swallow my cock inch by inch. The further she slips down the shaft the more she moans. When she finally reaches the root, and she is fully impaled, she stops and allows her body to adjust to my size.
“Ride me, Izzy. Fucking ride me until I fill your sweet pussy up with my cum.”
She lifts herself and drops down on my shaft, but I see her wince with pain so I hold on to her thighs and lift and drop her along my shaft. Over and over.
“Oh Tyyyy …” she gasps hoarsely. “You feel so good. I’m about to come.”
“Not yet,” I growl, but she can’t stop. Her orgasm has already started. Her pussy clenches around my cock. I feel the tight tension build in my balls and rise up my shaft and I start to come with her. Her body falls forward. Her breath is warm, heavy and content. I feel the hot spurts shoot into her, and her pussy milks my cock beautifully.
This pussy is mine. Forever.
Chapter Forty
Tyson
I sit in Jake’s living room watching the happy Christmas scene before me. The whole Eden clan is here. Mara, Dom, Shane, Layla, their spouses, their children, their pets. Never once have I imagined I would ever be part of such a big and wonderful family. That I would be embraced by all these people. Sincerely, and with open hearts and joy, as if I am a gift to the family.
My old life seems like a pale dream now.
I even left Suffolk. It tore me, because I have so many beautiful memories of it, but I couldn’t get past that terrible night. I was haunted by their bloodied bodies, their great gasping breaths.
I couldn’t even go back for my belongings.
But out of the ashes a new opportunity presented itself. Jake had a large piece of land near his property, and he wanted to give it to me, but I refused. I don’t need charity when I am already so blessed. I bought it from him instead. So now I live half an hour from the rest of the family. Ralph moved down with me and I started my stables again. Other than Phoenix, I only own a few horses now, but I’m not in a hurry. I’ll wait for the right horses. The ones that I feel in my blood are mine.
Sometimes I still dream of Rubina and Fey, and all the wonderful animals that perished that night. I dream I’m riding them across open grassy plains. The world we are in is vivid. Their feet almost don’t touch the ground. We travel the ground as one beast. I know I will meet them again. Real love never dies. My mother is not truly dead. At my lowest hour, she came to me.
I watch Lily, Jake’s wife, say something to Izzy that makes her laugh. I stare at the way her blonde hair glints like the finest spun gold. She turns her head suddenly towards me and smiles. Instantly, my heart swells in my chest. Life is so sweet sometimes it scares me. No one can be this lucky. I down my whiskey and stand up. I walk out of the French doors into the cold, dry night. I sniff the air. There’ll be snow by tomorrow. The kids will get their white Christmas after all.
I walk over to a bench under a pergola covered by a creeper. I pull my cigarette pack from my shirt pocket and tap out a cigarette. Lighting it, I draw deeply. Hot smoke fills my lungs. I exhale and clouds of white smoke spiral into the still air.
This is my last cigarette. I’m giving it up after this one. It’s Layla’s fault. Her enthusiasm for organic food and healthy stuff is infectious. Well, it didn’t infect me, but Izzy has become one of her ‘subjects’. I guess they have a point. Only a fool would buy a box carrying the most disgusting pictures of rotting lungs and undernourished premature babies. I guess I didn’t care if I lived a long time, or not before. I do now. I want to stay with Izzy for as long as I can. So I’m giving up smoking as a Christmas present to her.
I hear a noise by the door and turn my head. Jake comes and sits next to me.
“This is my last cigarette,” I tell him.
“I’ll have one with you.”
I look at him, surprised. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t, at least not anymore, but I can’t let you smoke your last cigarette alone.”
I light his cigarette for him and watch him inhale deeply.
“Funny thing,” he says. “I always think it’s going to taste better than it actually does.”
“Hmmm.”
For a few seconds neither of us speak.
“Revenge is a double-edged sword,” he says softly.
I know instantly what he is talking about. He’s referring to Tony’s death.
“I didn’t do it for revenge. If I had I would have chosen a slow painful death. He had it easy.”
“What did you do it for?”
“I did it because men like him shouldn’t exist in society. They poison everything they touch. If they cannot be put away because their fathers are powerful judges then they should be taken out.”
“How did you do it?”
I shrug. “I know a guy who used to be in the KGB. It’s a chemical that mimics a heart attack. The only evidence is a small puncture mark. They used to deliver it on the point of an umbrella in the street. My method of delivery was a whore.”
He nods.
“Tony’s death was not a revenge, but for payback for those other three who showed no mercy to my horses, for them there will be revenge.”
The door opens again and Jake’s oldest daughter, Liliana bursts out of it. She is the cheekiest kid I’ve ever met in my whole life. True I haven’t met many, but I’m pretty certain she is unique.
“Are you smoking, Daddy?” she gasps.
“Not really,” Jake says dropping his cigarette and grounding it with his shoe. She climbs into his lap and looks innocently into his face. “You know I’ll have to tell Mummy about this, don’t you?”
“Then I’ll have to tell Mummy you ate three spoons of jam straight from the jar.”
She thinks about it for a second. “Is that as bad as smoking five cigarettes?”
“I smoked one cigarette, Liliana. One. But … you had three spoons of jam.”
She sucks her lower lip into her mouth and considers her position. “All right. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Deal,” her father says.
She turns to me, her blue eyes shining. “So, Uncle Tyson, does Aunty Izzy know you’re smoking?”
I have to laugh. Like I said, there is just no other child like little Liliana Eden.
Epilogue
Izzy
One Year Later
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4igzqfVyFI
How I love you
“Christopher Flynn, so help me!” I hate having to get down on my knees while wearing a nice dress and heels, but I can’t find Chris’s other shoe and we’re already running late for our reservation. Under the sofa there’s crayons, race cars, but no shoe. “I swear, you’re enough to drive an angel to drink!”
“Found it, Mommy!”
Tyson swings Chris over his shoulder and jams the shoe on his little foot while our son laughs and squeals and smacks his palms against his father’s back.
“Swing me! Swing me!” he shouts.
Tyson sets him on his feet instead. “Not just now, little man.” He straightens Christopher’s clothing out. “You’re going to stay at grandma’s for the night, rem
ember? Mommy and I have important things to do.”
“Kissy things?” Christopher giggles with his hands over his mouth.
“Erm, something like that.” Tyson smirks in my general direction, but I can only shake my head and laugh.
“All right you lot. Let’s get moving before the restaurant cancels our reservation.” Tyson picks up Chris while I carry his little backpack, and the three of us walk out to the car together.
A whole weekend alone. What parent doesn’t crave it? We drop Christopher off at my mother’s. I can hardly stop looking at Tyson, touching his arm, his knee as he drives the car. I can barely wait to be alone with him.
We fly to Paris by private plane. It’s been more than three years since I was here last. I thought I would never come back. The memories would have been too painful. It’s a special night and I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to book Tyson’s favorite restaurant and a wonderful hotel. Nothing will stop it from being absolutely perfect.
Except a mix-up at the restaurant.
“I’m sorry, but there seems to have been a mix-up,” the maître d’ tells us.
“I beg your pardon?” I ask with a sinking heart. “I made this reservation three months ago.”
“Yes, madam, I’m sure you did, but it must have been entered into the system incorrectly. I have no record of it here, and we’re completely full. Perhaps you canceled it and forgot.” He gives us a sympathetic smile before turning his attention to the couple waiting behind us.
I feel like such a fool. I’ve gone and ruined our anniversary. I look up at Tyson. “I’m so sorry, darling. I don’t know what happened. I should have made a second call to confirm.”
But Tyson doesn’t look perturbed. He just shrugs. That’s one of the things I’ve come to most appreciate about him, the way he usually manages to maintain a good outlook. “This isn’t the only restaurant in the city,” he says as he helps me out of the door.
“No, but this is your favorite restaurant and I wanted it to be special for you,” I wail. I’m so disappointed I feel on the verge of tears.
“True, true.” He kisses the side of my neck, then murmurs in my ear, “But you know, my hotel has great room service.”
And just like that, three years disappear and it’s that night again. We’re standing on a sidewalk outside an apartment building, and he’s trying like mad to get me back to his hotel. I giggle softly at the memory.
“What about this sixties club I know?” he asks.
“Lead the way, good man,” I say leaning against him. It’s not quite the night I had in mind, especially not while I’m wearing my sexiest dress, but there’s something poetic about going back to the place we first got to know each other all those years ago.
Like magic a waitress finds the only available table as soon as we come in. We settle in the back. The crowd seems younger and rowdier than they did before. Maybe, it’s motherhood or maybe I’m older. The waitress is quick to return with our Jamesons. We clink glasses.
“This is where I fell in love with you,” Tyson says.
“You did?” I ask, blushing a little. Even after a year of living and raising our son together, he still makes me feel like a giggly schoolgirl. He’s the only one who does that to me.
“Oh, for sure. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and the way you moved. I was hiding my erection the whole night.”
“I felt it, too,” I admit, playing with my glass, smiling to myself. “I was worried nothing would come of it, but I hoped. I really did hope.”
“I told myself I was crazy to care so much about a girl I’d only just met, but I couldn’t help myself. You were air. I needed to be inside you.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, looking deep into those familiar eyes and knowing I would never get tired of looking into them. I’ve never been so happy. Not just now, either, but always. The last year has felt like one long happy dream. Just one day after another that I never want it to end.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
He reaches into his pocket, and suddenly I know. That’s the one thing I’ve been wishing for all this time. Even though I don’t care a thing about society and what a family “should” look like, I’ve been wanting to marry him. Wishing he would want the same thing. Thinking he might, but knowing how busy he’s been with his horses.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hands.
“You had to know something big was coming tonight,” he whispers, grinning like mad.
“I didn’t dare think about it. I didn’t want to be disappointed.”
His laughter rings out loud and clear, even over the noise all around us. “I have a confession to make,” he murmurs.
“What?” I can hardly breathe.
“I canceled your dinner reservation.”
“You what?” I gasp.
He nods, grinning that wicked little grin I see on his son whenever he knows he’s done something naughty. “I wanted it to be here, because this place is special for us. We can always go to that restaurant, but this is where we first fell in love. Isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is. It’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect. So, Isabella Faraday will you marry me.” He opens the box but I don’t look at the ring. I’m sure it’s beautiful, probably much bigger than anything I would pick out for myself. Instead, I look at him. Beautiful him. He’s given me everything I could ever want—love, joy, security, comfort, adventure, a family. And we’ve only just begun.
“What do you say? Make it official?” he asks.
“Of course, the answer is yes, yes, yes,” I choke out before I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. Yes, I want to be his wife. I want to be his forever. I want to have more of his children and fill our home with laughter and love and yes, the occasional fight—but we’ll always go back to love. We always do.
“Thank you,” I whisper in his ear as my eyes fill with tears of happiness.
“For what?”
“For being my real life hero.”
He pulls me away from him and looks at me with the sweetest smile on his handsome face before sealing our engagement with a kiss.
“Chris was right,” I laugh as Tyson slides the lovely diamond and platinum ring on my finger.
“About what?”
“About there being a lot of kissy things happening tonight.”
Liliana Eden
A Few Years Later
I look at the grubby boy. He is tall and broad with fierce black eyes and straight black hair. He must be at least a couple of years older than me. I think he’s the son of one of the travelling gypsies. His father did some work for my father. He is standing in the garden. His clothes are dirty and his hands are grubby, but for some strange reason I don’t understand why I feel drawn to him. I decide to walk up to him and offer him some food.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“None of your business,” he says rudely.
“What a rude little boy you are,” I say scornfully. “I only came over to see if you are hungry.”
“I’m not hungry. I don’t need your charity.”
I put my hands on my hips feeling angry at his rudeness. “I was only trying to be nice.”
His eyes flash. “You want to be nice?”
I look at him, confused. “Well, I did. I’m not sure I want to anymore.”
“Then piss off.”
I gasp. I don’t know why I didn’t just walk away and tell Daddy. “Why are you being so rude?”
“Why are you being such a pest?”
“All right I want to be nice. What do you want?”
Suddenly he grabs me and kisses me on the mouth! I am too surprised to resist. His mouth is firm and forceful and hot. Something flutters in my belly. Then he lifts his head and looks into my eyes. I can’t look away. I’m too astonished.
“Liliana Eden, I’m going to marry you one day,” he declared, before striding away.
&n
bsp; I touch my lips. They are still tingling. He kissed me. Ewww … Yuck. The rude boy kissed me! I run towards our house as fast as I can. I burst in through the door and burst into the kitchen, both Mommy and Daddy are there. “A boy kissed me,” I announce breathlessly.
“What?” Daddy shouts and jumps up, his face dark with fury.
Mommy grabs hold of his wrist. “She’s only eleven, Jake. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Fuck it doesn’t.” Daddy swears furiously as strides out of the house.
I watch him march up to the boy’s father. They talk, Daddy gesturing angrily. The man calls his son and slaps him upside the head. The boy says nothing. He just turns his head and looks at me through the window. There is no smile on his face. He just stares at me until his father slaps him again and pulls him away.
I touch my lips. They are still tingling. I wish I had not told Daddy about him.
And the Eden saga continues … :-)
EXTRA STORY
SEXY BEAST
Copyright © 2015 by Georgia Le Carre
The right of Georgia Le Carre to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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