“I want you. Please, Clyde, please. It’s been too long.” I’m not above begging this man just as he wants.
I’d do anything to have him, and at this moment, I know my mother’s right. I’d deceive him if I had to. I don’t ever want to do that, but I love him more than anyone ever. That kind of love is desperate. You find yourself breaking all the rules—hoping and praying and living for another being rather than yourself.
My shirt comes free as he tugs it over my head and tosses it somewhere into the living room as we finally get inside the house. His hands are everywhere as I cling to him like my life depends on it. His fingertips rake over my skin, his warm palms covering my bra and dipping lower to pop my button free on my shorts.
“Hurry!” The whimper escapes as his lips find my neck, his powerful thighs carrying us up the stairs one at a time. It feels as if each step takes far too long.
Every stair is an annoying obstacle between us and the bedroom. At some point, I’m afraid my body may burst, and I make him pause. I squirm until he releases me, and I drop down onto the stairs. The carpeted steps dig into my thighs, back, shoulder, and base of my skull, but I don’t care. I lay down, jerking him to me, fighting to yank his shirt free as well.
It goes flying somewhere behind him, but that’s the least of my worries as his hand breaks the barrier where my shorts once were, his fingers pushing and moving until they disappear under the elastic of my panties. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” The praise leaves me with a breathy groan as his fingertips apply much needed pressure to my clit, his lips descending on mine. His tongue delves into the opening, swirling with my own as his hands explore a bit further.
One of his digits sinks into the center of my pleasure, rousing my hips to jump and beg for more. “Yes!” I exclaim, gasping for breath. The man knows me so well, rewarding me with exactly what I’ve been craving from him.
“You’re wet, Shyla. For me?”
“Yes,” I repeat, my hands tugging him toward me, although he’s already nearly as close as he can possibly get without physically being fused to me. My hands work to shove his jeans over his hips; he helps by kicking his legs, toeing his boots off and shucking the constricting pants.
He’s left in only a pair of black boxer briefs, an enticing sight to behold—his sculpted chest, tan from being outside for far too many hours of the day, along with the light smattering of hair. It all ties together, complementing the man in the most tempting way.
“I need these off,” he rasps, using his free hand to tug on my shorts while propping himself up on his knees. His irises are full of fire as he watches his other hand under my shorts. He wants to be able to see me—all of me.
Our hands are all push and pull, fighting to finally feel skin to skin. “Okay, let me lean up some.” He sits farther back a bit, and I wiggle just enough to push the offensive shorts out of the way. They get kicked down the stairs a ways, but my lacey panties remain.
His gaze skirts over my lower stomach with a needy groan, his free hand snaking around my back to one handed unhook my bra. Did I admit yet that the man is skilled with his hands? My core throbs for him as his fingers continue to thrust in and out, giving me intense amounts of pleasure.
Swallowing, I lean up to kiss his chest, my tongue working its way up his throat until his lips close in on my mouth. His kisses are laced with desperation as his solid cock strains his boxers against the inside of my thigh. My palms run over the muscular orbs of his biceps, skirting down over his ribs, his lean hips and finally into his briefs. With little effort, I have them pushed down, exposing the round globes of an ass that’s seen many squats in its time.
“Fuck,” he hisses as his cock finally hits the skin of my thigh. He’s so hard and hot, ready with unquenched desire.
“You want me too,” I whisper and a feral growl rumbles from his chest in reply.
He definitely wants me.
I pause in my exploration only a beat long enough to shuck the bra he’s freed my breasts from. Tossing it somewhere behind him, his intense gaze trains on my chest, finally free for him. “Closer,” I hiss as I explode around his fingers. My head falls back in a daze, my eyes finding the ceiling as the intense feelings come over me from his touch alone.
“Fuck, Shyla,” he gasps, watching me climax. My panties are ripped clean off seconds later, and we all know even when they’re dainty, those things don’t tear easily. He rips them to shreds like he’s freaking Tarzan, a man possessed by sexual longing.
“Ah!” My eyes widen as he dips down, replacing his hands with his mouth. I literally just came, but with his tongue dipping inside and his lips moving back up to suck my clit between his lips after repeating the movement a few times in a row, I’m screaming with my second orgasm.
“Holy shit! Clyde, yes!” I call out, my brain fuzzy, full of emotions, love, and pleasure.
My hand seeks out his cock, working it with my tight grip, just the way he’s always liked it. The movements don’t last, his hands taking my wrists and holding them above my head as he plunges his thickness inside me. Finally.
“Clyde.” His name leaves me breathlessly on a relieved pant. My chest moves as if I’ve been running laps, turned on with this man driving me wild.
“Shy-la.” His voice breaks halfway through my name as he drives into me, this time to the hilt. “Christ, you feel good, Shy.” He swallows, his hazel irises trained on mine. He has me so entranced, I’m sure they’re the same color as emeralds right now.
After the second time, I grab his ass, reveling in him being where he belongs. He must take it as I want him to go hard and fast because the next time I blink, he’s thrusting so hard that my back is digging into the steps and they’re carpeted. It’s so powerful that I swear he rearranges my freaking uterus.
“Oh Lord Jesus, your cock is not Dora the Explorer on her next mission!” I call the next chance I have between kisses.
“Huh?” he rasps, puzzled.
“Please go easy for a sec; I’m not used to your size.” It’s been years, not that I voice that little fact out loud.
“Shit,” he whispers, his voice gruff. Clyde swallows attempting to gain some sense of control once more. “I-I wasn’t thinking.” He pants, his cheeks flushed with sweat already dotting his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just need to get used to you for a minute.” He stops completely at my words, bracing some of his weight on his elbows and knees as not to squish me.
“Umm, who’s Dora Explorer or whatever?” Clyde asks after a moment of gazing down at me tenderly.
“It’s a cartoon I watched with Amber’s daughter.” I can’t help but giggle. “It was the first thing to come to mind.”
“So, you think my cock’s big?” His lips turn into a cocky grin. He’s so damn sexy it makes me clench around his enormous dick, resting inside me like it’s always belonged there.
Out of everything, that’s the part he focused on? A smile graces my mouth as I admit the truth. “Yeah, I do.”
“Just how big is big?” His eyebrow hikes as he presses inside, this time pumping much slower than before, letting me enjoy every single inch of him.
“Big enough to make me feel you absolutely everywhere inside, pretty sure you could rearrange some stuff in there if you wanted.”
“Good answer,” he growls, his teeth clamping down and pulling my bottom lip into his mouth to suck on. The man is sex on legs, literally walking, talking ovary-explosion waiting to happen. “You’re so sexy, Shyla, from your brightly painted toes up to these full, round breasts. It drives me crazy that everything about you turns me on so damn badly.”
“Now you know how I feel, especially seeing you without a shirt on. It’s enough to give me hot flashes without even touching you,” I admit softly as he sinks to the hilt once more, tilting his hips in a circle to grind against my clit. The movement makes me gulp as sparks fly into my stomach all over again.
“Oh, I want you to touch me, darlin’,” he answers against my
neck, brushing soft kisses mixed with tiny nips along the sensitive flesh as he runs his hands all over my frame. “I want this pretty little mouth to touch me everywhere too, but we’ll wait until later for that.”
My mind keeps replaying his unintentional promise through my head over and over as he drives inside me, moving his hips from side to side, hitting every spot that needs hitting. He said he plans to have more later. It’s like a gift sent from up above—or maybe from below. The pleasure is so intense, and his moves are positively sinful.
He does this sort of winding thing with his hips, shaking them back and forth a few times before sinking home and it does me in. My third orgasm hits like a massive tidal wave, tingling over my body, spreading little vibrations of wonder everywhere. I witness flashing bright lights and chant in my own version of tongues, proclaiming him the best I’ve ever had. It’s the truth; his touch is better than anything. His cock is the prime size to make me come from his body’s silent demands.
I’m not sure it’s the smartest idea to admit that out loud just yet or how I feel about him emotionally. I love him, and I want to scream it from the rooftops so everyone will know how I feel for him. So he, along with the rest of this town, will be aware that my heart belongs to Clyde Owens and no one else.
A few rough drives later and he’s filling me full of his own pleasure, making everything feel beyond perfect. How I ever lived without him is beyond me. Now that he’s back in my life, things aren’t all figured out or anything, but he’s here. I get to see his smile and not feel as if he wants to rip my head off every time he looks at me.
When I catch him staring, I can see that he’s still attracted to me. There’s nothing more empowering than to know you have that type of pull on a man, especially a full blown alpha such as Clyde Owens. It takes a lot to get attention from someone like him, and it’s not something I’d want to easily give up again.
He’s the type you’d catch outside sans shirt, sweaty and tan, chopping wood or building a house for the hell of it. Hot flashes do exist when faced with the right man, and he has me feeling all kinds of things. Jesus take the wheel!
His movements slow, until his forehead rests on mine and he presses tender chaste kisses all over my face and random places along my body.
“Good?” I ask, and he nods, breathing deeply.
“Yeah, but I’m just getting started.”
“Oh really?” My lips curve up into a pleased smirk.
“Yep, we’re going to my bed next.” He flashes me a full smile, the one I’ve been longing to see so badly, and then in the next instant, he’s wrapping his arm around my back, securing my body to his.
He stands easily, still firmly planted in my heat and I wrap my hands around his neck. “Now?” I ask, amused.
“Hell yeah.” He chuckles and then he’s jogging up the stairs like he’s not even carrying me. He’s naked and beautiful and determined to have his way. And I’m in love.
She’s as pretty as a peach.
She sleeps beside me, and again, I can’t stop myself from watching her. She’s as beautiful as she’s always been. I couldn’t limit myself yesterday to just having her once—that once turned into all night long. I can’t believe I’m not passed the hell out from fucking her into the hours of dawn. I probably would’ve kept going, too, but she begged me to stop—her pussy raw from me not having enough of her.
Now she sleeps in my bed, curled up in a ball looking perfectly content as if she belongs there—the same necklace secured around her neck, with our picture resting inside. I don’t know why it bothers me so badly. Maybe because I don’t know just how long she’s worn it. At first glance, the front appears new. The back, however, tells a different story with signs of wear.
She’s like an enigma to me—one I can’t seem to figure out.
Why did she leave in the first place and not return right away? I asked her to be my wife, yet she said no. I don’t understand. Was it because we were so young? Or did she want to go be with other men before committing to only me? Did she ever really love me?
Her necklace and the way she comes around makes me believe she must have loved me at some point. The main thought consuming me is, does she love me now? I want her—I always have—but I can’t have my heart crushed like it was before.
Shyla stirs, and I have to pry myself away from her. If I stick around, I’ll try to make love to her again, and I know she’s aching. It’s bad enough lying here watching her sleep for God knows how long.
I’m going to end up getting too attached. Hell, I already watch for her daily, and as much as I don’t care to admit it, I want her to stop by. It pisses me the fuck off. I’m supposed to be over her. I buried our past long ago, or so I believed.
Rather than wigging myself out over it, I throw on some freshly washed clothes and make my way downstairs. We showered together about four a.m. when I had her again under the water. One more time afterward and she teared up, too raw to take me anymore. My chest may be puffed up a little bit more today than usual, knowing I’ve worn her out.
Fuck. Damn it. Shit. This can’t happen.
With a huff, I pick up our forgotten clothes strewn about the house as I make my way to the kitchen and leave them in a pile to throw in the wash. A throat clears, and I discover my brother sitting on the couch, holding up Shyla’s shirt with a shit eating grin. He’s going to love this, with his nosey self.
“Thanks.” With a grumble, I collect it and go straight to the coffee maker. Dumping in an extra scoop, I hit brew and wait for the strong cup of caffeinated goodness to finish.
I’m going to need a few pots of it to get through the day unless I succumb to a nap at some point. Maybe I’ll take one this afternoon. Or maybe I’ll be too busy and have more sex with Shyla.
“You going to make her breakfast?” Nate asks after a moment of watching me lean against the counter and stare into space.
My brow raises, meeting his stare. “Why?”
“Because, Clyde, we all know you love her. I seriously doubt you want to let her slip through your fingers again. Don’t treat her like a piece of ass; serve her breakfast in bed like you would do for a wife.”
At his wife comment, I find myself rolling my eyes. I already gave her that option at one point. She’s the one who turned it down. Maybe she only wants to be a piece of ass. “You forget I’ve already done this with her once before.”
“No, I remember that clearly, trust me. She loves you, Clyde, and she’s got a past as well. You didn’t live in her shoes; maybe you ought to actually talk to her, bro before you automatically assume what she wants.”
With a huff, I shoot him a glower. “Oh really. Where do you come up with this shit?”
“I’ve already spoken to her,” he admits with a shrug.
“When? What did she say?” A touch of jealousy overcomes my mind, hearing him say he’s spoken to her already. It should’ve been me she talked to about anything remotely important, not my younger brother.
“Give her a chance to be the one to fill you in. In the meantime, you should give her a break.”
I scoff. Give her a break? Last I remember, she broke my heart. It wasn’t the other way around. I’m not fixing her breakfast, but I remember she used to like bagels and we have some in the fridge. Before the coffee’s finished brewing, I toast her a bagel and slice up some strawberries along with fixing her a cup of coffee the way she used to take it. I pile it all on a wood tray along with my full cup and start the trek up the stairs.
“Feed the dogs!” I demand, calling behind me and Nate agrees.
With a soft kick, I push the bedroom door open and set the tray on the bedside table. She mumbles in her sleep and turns over. I could watch her like this all day.
“Darlin’?” I murmur into the back of her neck and sprinkle gentle kisses along the exposed skin.
“Mmm?” she manages, sleepy.
“I brought you coffee and a bagel.”
At that, she twists back toward me, her s
leep tousled hair off in every direction, blinking tiredly at me. “You brought me food?”
“Mmhmm.” I nod and smirk down at her.
Sleepy eyes twinkle with warmth as her arms reach up, wrapping around my neck. “You’re insatiable, Mr. Owens, you know that?”
A chuckle leaves me as I realize why she thinks I brought her something to eat. “I could’ve done that without food.” I wink, and her smile grows as she draws me in for a tender kiss. I missed seeing her like this and waking up next to her tiny body tucked up against mine.
“I can’t handle more yet,” she admits with a wince as she moves her legs.
“Eat, Shy. You must be hungry.”
“I am, but can I have the coffee first, please?”
“Of course.” I carefully hand over the cup once she moves to sit up.
“This is really sweet of you to do.”
“It’s not without motive,” I confess. “We need to talk. I want to know everything, Shyla. You owe me some answers.”
So I give in to his request, and we talk for hours. I tell him everything, explaining why I left him all those years ago in the middle of a football field with tears in my eyes after he’d gotten down on one knee and asked me the one question I’d dreamed to hear for nearly all of my youth. I apologized over and over, professing my love and by the time I’d gotten the chunk of it out, he had tears rolling over his cheeks, and I was sobbing. I’d reduced this huge strong alpha male to tears and witnessing him so open and broken ripped through my soul.
“I wish you would’ve told me then.” He finally speaks after lowering the wall of silence he had up while I was explaining everything. For hours, he didn’t utter a single word, and I babbled on, afraid if I paused for any reason, I’d never have the chance to explain again.
3 Times the Heat Page 12
