Hound Cerberus 2.0 Book 2

by James, Marie

  “No,” I repeat, this time with my hands on her slender hips.

  When she tries to move closer, I tighten my hands, but the grip of my fingers into the plush flesh of her ass stirs a need in me I never feel unless she’s around. It’s then that I start to question my own mental health. I should tell her to get dressed, tell her we’re going back to face her father, but I’ve already sent Shadow and Kid away, assuring them I’d do my best to get her back to New Mexico. Even speaking with them, I know it’s a long shot. I won’t force this woman to do anything she doesn’t want to do.

  I’m struck with the thought of shoving her head so far down on my cock that she chokes, but from the gleam in her eyes, I don’t think it would be unwelcome. Punishing her for making me want her so fucking bad only entices her to seek more punishment.

  Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip, and her hands find the top of my head.

  “Fuck,” I grumble when her nails dig into my scalp with just the right amount of pain and pleasure. I roll my head on my shoulders until her nails are scraping over my beard and onto the sensitive skin of my neck.

  Her arousal is thick in the air, filling my lungs, drowning me in a heady need I can barely keep control over.

  I know I’m going to cave long moments before I actually do it. The anticipation is nearly unbearable, but I know the prize is going to be a bliss I can only find with her.

  My skin is itchy, tingling with need and desire, but I wait. I just watch, looking at her lithe body until her breathing grows heavy and her eyelids droop with a sexiness I know I’ll dream about for nights to come.

  She’s trembling by the time I spread my legs and allow her to stand in between them. She’s gasping for much-needed air by the time I press my lips to the flatness of her lower belly. And she’s barely able to stand by the time I snake my tongue out and lick her from her slit all the way to the top of her throbbing clit.

  “Ja-Jameson,” she stutters, and the sound of my name on her lips ignites a fire in my gut that can only be extinguished with her taste, her scent filling my body until I’ve wrung her dry and she’s trembling beneath me.

  “Fight it,” I command with another harsh lick to her most sensitive flesh.

  “I can’t,” she objects. “It feels too good.”

  She’s shaking, near convulsing in my grip, so I hold her tighter, so tight that my fingers will be imprinted on her skin for days to come. My cock thickens painfully, leaking at the tip with the knowledge.

  “I’ll spank your ass if you come before I give you permission.”

  Her moan filters through the room as her body begins to quiver in earnest. She’s fighting the one thing her brain is telling her to take, and it pleases me like nothing else ever has.

  I toy, tease, and tangle my tongue around the epicenter of her desire. I’m relentless, challenging her to obey my command, but hoping she’s unable. The idea of pinking her ass warms my palm against the fleshy part of her thigh with anticipation.

  “Please, please, please,” she begs.

  The beseeching inflection of her voice is enough to make me cave. This is Gigi I’m drinking down my throat. It won’t be long before she presents another situation where I can take my frustrations out on her beautiful ass.

  “Now,” I hiss, my breath hitting her marvelous cunt and forcing goosebumps to race down her legs. “Come for me.”

  “Only for you,” she whispers and splinters apart.

  I honor her submission by extending her pleasure with quick, pulsing swipes of my tongue.

  Unable to wait, unable to care about what happens tomorrow, my hand is releasing its punishing grip on her thigh and working open the zipper of my jeans. The next second, the denim is pushed down past my balls, and I’m stroking, with a brutal fist, the length of my metal-studded cock.

  “Oh God.” The awe in her voice draws the pre-cum from my shaft until it’s glistening at the tip. The lick of her tongue over her lips is enough to make me forget every woman before her, a victory no one else can claim.

  “It’s yours,” I offer with my grip at the base.

  “No,” I tell her when she makes to straddle my thighs on the couch. “Take my boots and jeans fully off.”

  I know how hard I want to fuck her, how hard I need to fuck her. She’s athletic, but she’s not going to have the stamina I’ll demand from her taut, little body. I plan to punish her, to assault her, to push inside of her so deep and so hard that she’ll feel me tomorrow and the day after. When I watch her squirm, I’ll know it’s the echo of my cock that’s pushing the blush up her chest and on to her cheeks.

  Eager hands unlace my combat boots and tug my jeans down. The only help I give her is the slight lift of my hips so she can get my jeans down my thighs and eventually off my legs.

  She stands, impatiently waiting for my next command, and fuck if that doesn’t stir something deep inside my chest. My cock jerks in my hand, reminding me that it’s not the time or place for introspection. The sight of her swollen clit peaking past the delicate lips of her slit is glorious. I’m an undeserving asshole, but I’m going to take what never should’ve been given to me in the first place.

  “Come here,” I shift my gaze down, indicating the throbbing cock I’m holding straight up. “Have a seat.”

  A coy smile plays on her lips but her feet move quickly, and her knees hit the couch cushions at my thighs with a speed that rivals Olympic sprinters.

  “Condom?” She blinks up at me.

  A harsh breath leaves my lips. Not at the thought of wrapping up, but with the memory of why we won’t.

  “I’m already so deep inside of you.” The thumb of my free hand rubs the soft skin below her navel. I lift her hips, kissing her sensitive flesh with the tip of my cock. “I’m already a part of you.”

  I ease her down, the gravity of the situation and unanswered questions, decisions that have yet to be made and verbalized is the weight that forces her to sink to the base.

  The need to fuck her wild, fuck her until she’s nothing but liquid in my hands fades away. She whimpers at the fullness, shifting her hips, rocking with small sweeps side to side to help her body accommodate the thickness of mine.

  I rock up, enjoying every centimeter of her gripping cunt as it flexes, tightens, and pleads for more. The ache in my balls is bearable. The tension gnawing at the base of my spine just as willing as I am to take my time.

  Her eyes flutter, but she’s able to keep them open. The shine, the glisten of wetness near the corners of her eyes draw me in. I revel in the keen ability to pull such emotion from her, but when one lone tear crests and rolls down her face, the demon in me wants a hundred more. I want to see them gushing down her face, while she begs me to stop, while she’s choking on my cock, while she loves every aspect of every deranged thing I want to do to her.

  But, it isn’t until her forehead rests against mine, and she looks down at the carnal union of our bodies that my restraint begins to crack. The tension at my spine, the ache in my balls is no longer bearable.

  The slow and steady, the feathery ripple of her pussy along my erection has become a tease. The soft huffs of her breath abrade my skin rather than flush it with satisfaction. The delicate noises she makes are contradictory and insufferable to what my body is demanding I take.

  Then, it’s the puncture of her teeth in the hard flesh of my pectoral that makes my head snap up.

  “You feisty bitch,” I hiss and stand from the couch.

  I bite my tongue as her fingernails seer a hole into my back. She knows I have her, knows I’d never drop her so the aggression, although welcome, will be punished.

  “Yes,” she moans when I walk her to the bed and lay her on her back.

  I chuckle at her greediness when her hips flex, and she’s fucking herself on my dick the instant her back hits the mattress.

  “No.” I pull out, the whimper she emits landing in my gut.

  After flipping her over, I’m almost tempted by the arch of her back, s
o much so that I don’t resist the temptation to run my hand down the ridges of her spine and trace the heart shape of her ass. Fucking her from behind becomes my only mission, but the disappointment in not seeing her face isn’t something I’m going to tolerate. She squeals, a gleeful, silly sound in this moment when I lift her, back to my chest and stand. Her giggle turns to a brutal moan when I impale her down my shaft and position our bodies, so we’re standing in front of the full-length dressing mirror.

  “Jesus,” she hisses as I hold her aloft, the bends of her knees cradled in the bend of my elbows.

  She’s spread open, the pink of her pussy a sharp contrast to the angry, purple hue of my brutally hard cock. The glint of the light in the room radiating off of the barbells along my cock adds to the depravity we’re both so wrapped up in that nothing else in the world matters.

  Her head rocks back on my shoulder, eyes mere slits as she continues to watch me fuck up into her like a man possessed.

  “You need to fucking come,” I demand as her hands find the furled tips of her nipples. Her face scrunches, and I love that she’s causing the bite of pain to get her off. “Now.”

  Like a genie rubbing a golden lamp, my words, my insistence to put an end to both of our misery is obeyed the second the words push past my lips.

  I hold her closer as her small body curls in on itself. I groan my own release at the sight of her stomach ridging and flexing with the force of her climax.

  “God damn,” I cry when I explode inside of her, the force of her pulsing leaving no room for my own release.

  Warm, thick liquid, a combination of both her and I, slicks her thighs and the length of my shaft and balls. I need to get us into the shower before we ruin the carpet any more than we already have, but it’s not even an option.

  As carefully as I can manage, I walk us the few feet to the bed, setting her down before climbing in behind her.

  “I just need a few minutes,” I explain when she looks back over her shoulder at me.

  She laughs at the weakness in my voice, the words nearly slurred like I’d been drinking whiskey all night rather than feeding at the offerings of her body.

  The stroking of her fingers up and down the arm wrapped around her stomach calms my pounding heart, if only for a second because true to form, she opens her mouth, and the world spins again.

  “Tell me about your daughter.”

  Chapter 20

  Gigi

  I expect him to release me, to climb off of the bed and refuse to talk, and as the silence drags on, I imagine him telling me to mind my fucking business and never ask him about her again. Then, to my surprise he sighs, his body settling in closer to mine, heavier into the mattress, his fingers twisting until our hands are joined, and he begins.

  “Isabella Roze, with a Z, not an S,” he explains, “Montoya is everything I never knew I wanted.”

  Did he rub our combined hands over my lower belly on purpose? It’s not the first time tonight he’s touched me there in a way so loving it’s almost out of character for the man I hardly know.

  I shiver at the soft press of his lips on my bare shoulder.

  “Gabriela Montoya showed up in the middle of my sophomore year. There was only one high school in Kaufman, Texas at the time. All of the rich kids, all of the poor kids, and every kid in between were thrown together. Her dad was some executive for a nearby refinery, so if there was an opportunity for her to go somewhere else, I’m certain her upper-class parents would’ve made sure she did.”

  I let my eyes close, loving the soothing tone of his voice, but I hang onto every word, hurting as he begins to speak of another woman, but too curious to tell him to stop.

  “She showed up in clothes that cost more than my rusty old pickup truck with a gleam in her eye that drew in every boy, made every teenage cock rock solid at first glance. I wasn’t immune. I fantasized about her for days before I built up the courage to approach her.”

  “What did she look like?” I need to compare her to me, to see if he’s attracted to traits we may share.

  “Long, rich brown hair.” He kisses the back of my head, and I stiffen. He either doesn’t notice my unease, or he ignores it. “The thickest, most luscious ass I’d ever lain eyes on. Eyes so dark, you couldn’t tell the iris from the pupil.”

  “She sounds lovely,” I mutter.

  He releases my hand and grips my thigh.

  “Be careful, Georgia, your jealousy turns me on.”

  I huff as he continues.

  “She was new and exotic. Colombian. She came from San Antonio, the big city compared to our quiet little town. I wanted her the second I saw her. Needed her the second I smelled the sun on her skin.”

  “Did you love her?” Sounds a lot like fucking love to me.

  “At sixteen? I sure as hell thought I did but looking back I realize there were things I loved about her. I loved her body, the way she moved with sensual grace whether she was dancing to David Allan Coe or Shakira. I loved the way my hands would tangle into her thick hair as if once I touched her, she refused to let me go. I loved the way she welcomed a terrified virgin boy into her body and taught me things no seventeen-year-old girl should’ve ever known in the first place.”

  I whimper, his words and the sensual way he described his young lust turning me on.

  “You got her pregnant.”

  “Almost immediately,” he says with a quick chuckle, his hand grazing low on my stomach again. “I didn’t ask if she was on the pill.”

  “Seems to be a problem for you.”

  He pinches the lips of my pussy until I moan with need. “Can I finish my story?”

  I nod, unable to speak while he has my clit clamped between his thumb and forefinger.

  “All the girls at school talked about birth control. The first time I slid inside of her, a latex barrier was the last thing on my mind. Every time after, I couldn’t imagine anything dulling the sensation, so I didn’t bother. Figured she’d tell me if there was a problem. That problem,” he sighs and releases my clit. I hiss when the blood flow returns in the form of a throbbing pulse. “Came a couple months after we started dating. I was ready to quit school, go to work, do anything and everything for her and our child.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I made plans. We made plans. When she started to show and her parents got suspicious enough to ask, we sat down and told them. She’d hidden it too long for an abortion. We’d talked about it in passing, but it wasn’t something either of us wanted. We were a family. We were going to raise our child in a happy home and give it everything that it could ever want.”

  He swallows, I’m certain remembering the time when life was easier. When he faced things with pride and determination without being bogged down with the reality that only maturity and age can bring, or in my case growing up too fast.

  “Her dad was livid. Her mother cried the whole time, upset that her Catholic soul may never recover. I offered everything I had, which amounted to less than a complete sophomore education and a shitty truck that didn’t crank more days than it actually did. I should’ve been a junior, but I have a late birthday, and my parents made me repeat kindergarten. I couldn’t offer her that extra year of education.

  “Her dad pointed all of that out of course. Convinced Gabby that a life with me would be lived in poverty because he sure as hell wasn’t being financially responsible for some poor ass white boy. He gave her an ultimatum, and I’ve never seen a girl who claims to be in love make a decision so fast.”

  I don’t miss the tremble in his now unsteady hand or the deep breaths he pulls in to calm his anger.

  “She chose the money, the life I now know I never would’ve been able to give her. She chose the support of her family even to the detriment of our relationship. I knew she’d love that baby, that her parents wouldn’t fault a child for the sins her teenage parents committed. I was told to take a step back, to leave her alone.”

  His laugh is bitter, filled with years of
something akin to remorse or regret.

  “I couldn’t though. I convinced my parents to let me drop out of high school. I was a year behind on paper, but I was smart enough to pass my GED. They let me join the Marine Corps at seventeen. I was in Miramar, California when my parents called to tell me that the letters I’d been sending to Gabby had all been returned to their house, unopened. They’d promised me a relationship with my child. I never would’ve walked away, joined the Corps if I knew they were going to pull some shit like they did. When they drove by, the place was deserted by the Montoya’s and another family was already moving in.”

  “That’s so fucking shitty,” I whisper even though he knows it and doesn’t need it spoken out loud.

  “Yeah,” he agrees.

  “How did you locate her?”

  He tugs the sheet over us when I shiver, half burning up from his heat at my back, but frigid where the air conditioner is drifting over my shoulders and chest.

  “Her dad was easy enough to track. They didn’t live a secret life, just a nomadic one because of his line of work. I saw Izzy for the first time when she was four. She was doing her best to kick around a soccer ball on a field. Her long brown hair flowed behind her, and when her eyes turned in my direction, they were my eyes, and I never knew love like I found on a children’s soccer field that day. She’s everything wonderful about Gabby and me. None of the bad, none of the struggle. She’s pure and beautiful, and now she’s nearly a woman, and that scares the fuck out of me.”

  I clasp his hand again in mine.

  “So Gabby let you have a relationship with her?”

  “Hardly,” he spits. “She’d gotten married to some pompous asshole. She made threats. I made threats. Hers were backed up by a team of attorneys. There’s not much you can do with a military salary, and her family, her new husband, knew that. The only faith I had in life that day was the saddened look on the nanny’s face when she carried my daughter away.”

  “You just let her walk away with Izzy?” I can’t help the disdain in my voice. What parent just lets someone steal their child?