Just as she goes to lock her legs around my waist, I shake my head and use my hands behind her knees to bring her legs up so that her feet are planted on the bed.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” I command, still gritting my teeth. “Stay right where you are and grab hold of the headboard.”
At my direction, Farrah reaches up and wraps her fingers tightly around the metal bars of the headboard with wide, arousal filled eyes. My balls pull up tight against the base of my dick as I watch her chest heave in an effort to drag in air and her tits swell even further. With a hard smack to her outer thigh and her pussy flooding with more evidence of how much she loves what I’m doing to her, I work the tip of my index finger down to the first knuckle into her ass.
“Mm,” Farrah hums as the tight ring of muscle gives way to another knuckle. I didn’t anticipate she’d be able to take one this easily, so I decide to push her boundaries, and try two.
As my middle finger slides in beside the first, Farrah whimpers softly, letting me know that two is her limit. At least, for tonight. Eventually, I want to be able to claim Farrah’s sweet pussy and ass at the same time. I want my cock in her scorching hot cunt, and a dildo buried deep in her ass.
“Jake, fuck. I don’t think I can take more,” she moans, shifting her hips to try and relieve the pressure building in her core.
“You can and you will,” my voice rasps as I watch both of my fingers disappear inside her entirely.
Holding her immobile with my cock buried in her cunt to the hilt and two fingers plunging in and out of her ass, I bring my free hand down on her outer thigh and deliver a series of firm but not painful smacks. I want Farrah on sensation overload, not sure what to feel or where to focus as I take her higher than she’s ever been before. And since every smack I give her causes Farrah to whimper in pleasure and seek out more, I take that as my signal to start moving.
Farrah’s eyes pop open, and her eyes shoot to mine as I begin dragging the length of my cock out of her pussy, pausing until only the tip remains. Chuckling at the look on her face, I tell her,
“I’m not stopping, baby. I can assure you I’m about to fuck you so hard and so good you’re going to see stars.”
Her mouth drops open, but only a single word comes out.
“Please.”
Over and over again, I thrust every millimeter of my ten-inch cock into Farrah’s cunt, feeling the very instant her muscles give way and begin to accept me without any of their previous resistance. She’s so fucking wet from our foreplay that every time I withdraw from her heat, I can see my cock glistening with her thick white cream.
Farrah’s pussy is already beginning to spasm around me impatient for more, but I have to tell her something first. Before I can let her give me the gift of watching her come again, I need her to know.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much that I can’t live without you, Farrah. You or our little bean.”
Ignoring my cock’s insistent warning that I’m only seconds off coming, I say,
“Since the day I learned what love meant, I watched how my dad treated my mom. How he still treats her. I saw the way your granddad’s eyes filled with love when looked at pictures of your grandma. Even though she’d been gone years, it was plain to see he loved her just as much as he did before she died.”
Removing my fingers from her ass, I drop my forehead to Farrah’s and cover her body with mine. I’m careful not to rest too much of my weight on top of her for fear of squashing our baby, but I need to feel as much of her skin touching mine as I can.
“I won’t lie; I have no fucking idea how to make a relationship work. I’ve never had a girlfriend, so this is as new to me as it is you.”
“But…” Farrah starts to say, but I cut her off.
“No. That bitch doesn’t count. Nothing about our situation was a relationship, baby. She was a means to an end, that’s all she was ever going to be,” I reassure her.
Farrah has to know that I love her so completely that my life without her in it isn’t worth imagining. I will slay dragons, wrestle mountain lions, and travel to the ends of the Earth and back again in order to prove it if I have to. But I sense by the tears filling her gorgeous green eyes, spilling over her cheeks that won’t be necessary.
“All I want, all I need, is for you to tell me you feel the same. I can live without my things, my job, even my friends, Farrah, but I can’t live without you. I love you, baby. I always have, and I always will,” I vow, coming to rest deep inside her.
“I love you too,” she breathes, capturing my mouth in a soul-searing kiss
At her contented sigh, my hips instinctively find a rhythm that works for both of us as Farrah continues to trail her lips over my jaw down to my chest. They don’t linger; they move with purpose, that being to taste every inch of skin she can reach – to imprint herself on me the same way I’m imprinting myself on her. Then, when Farrah lets out an exquisite moan and her pussy floods with desire, demanding that I finish staking my claim while white-hot need overrides all sense of reason.
I thrust upward harshly, making her inner muscles clamp down on my shaft and her limbs convulse. Farrah’s arms wrap around my neck tightly as I plunge in and out of her cunt like a man possessed. My sides ache where her knees have fallen shut to clench my hips, and even though she’s disobeying a direct instruction, I can’t bring myself to punish her. After all, I’ve had fantasies about her damn legs for years. How they would grip me and hold me prisoner while I fuck us both into next week.
But those are thoughts for a different day because nothing about this moment can be categorized as fucking. Tonight, I’m making love to Farrah. Maybe I’m being a little rougher than I planned, but it’s hard to hold back when I finally have the only woman I’ve ever actually wanted beneath me. In fact, it’s fucking impossible.
As I feel my release building, Farrah’s body strings tight, and she comes screaming my name. I’m not far behind her, slamming my cock into her tight, hot cunt half a dozen more times before I can’t hold back anymore.
“Farrah,” I roar as the first jets of come leave the tip of my cock with so much force that white spots begin to dance behind my eyes.
“Jake. Oh, yes, Jake,” Farrah mewls, riding out the last of her climax as her sweet, wet pussy milks every last drop of come from my balls.
“Fuck, but I love you, baby,” I finally say when I’ve managed to catch my breath.
I roll us to our sides and spread one hand across her belly protectively and brace my other arm underneath her tits. Inhaling the scent of her hair – the subtle hint of mint and something else I can’t place that I’ve always attributed to, Farrah – I listen as her breathing evens out, making me believe she’s fallen asleep.
Closing my eyes, I wait for sleep to claim me, but before I can join her I hear,
“There aren’t enough words to tell you how much I love you, so Bean and I are just going to have to show you.”
I don’t reply, reveling in Farrah’s sleepy promise. Instead, I fall asleep with a smile on my face and my heart full of hope for our future.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~ Farrah ~
“You do understand you’re all being ridiculous, don’t you?” I yell at no one in particular. As far as I’m concerned, all four men “helping” me move into Jake’s house deserve to be on the receiving end of my anger.
When I woke up to people banging around and muted voices trying not to yell at each other – unsuccessfully I might add – I just assumed it was Jake and Simon working out in the living room like they sometimes do. I was wrong. What I came face to face with as I wandered into my kitchen in search of my beloved ginger ale – the only thing that’s helped in my losing battle with morning sickness – was not two sweaty, shirtless men, but four. And sadly, they were not working out.
What they were doing was asking to get their asses kicked. Albeit, I won’t be the one inflicting said ass kicking since I can barely lift my foot up to paint my
toenails, but I am seriously contemplating calling in reinforcements. If these guys think they can get away with packing up my entire life and throwing it into a truck without my permission, they’ve got another thing coming. Let them explain this shit to their wives; I dare them.
“Baby, we talked about this,” my soon-to-be-bruised, irritating excuse for a fiancée says. And yes, you heard right. I did indeed say, fiancée. Although, at the rate Jake’s going, this is probably going to be the shortest engagement in recorded history.
Propping my hands on my ever-widening hips – being six months pregnant will do that to a girl – I give Jake a look that says he’s lost his ever-loving mind.
“No, we most certainly did not,” I snap frustrated at the infuriating man.
Regardless of my tendency to forget to put on shoes before leaving the house, putting my cell in the refrigerator, instead of the milk, and possibly flooding the bathroom once, I would definitely remember the conversation Jake’s referring to.
“Yes, babe, we did,” he huffs, hefting another box into his arms.
“Put that down. I mean it, Jake, stop loading my stuff into the damn truck because I’m not going anywhere.”
Eli, who until now I considered the only sensible man here starts laughing at Jake and I facing off while chaos reigns around us, which earns him a snarl from Jake and the finger from me.
“Hey, don’t get angry at me. I’m just enjoying the show.”
“Fuck off,” Jake growls before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the hall to my bedroom.
“What are you doing? You’re going to break your back,” I shriek as Jake drops my ass onto the mattress and kneels in front of me.
“Look at me, Farrah,” he coaxes, tipping my chin up until I’m forced to meet his gaze. “Tell me what this is really about. I know you; you’re not pissed about moving in with me, or how I went about making that happen. It’s something else, and you’re not leaving this room until you tell me what that is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
The truth is, that Jake’s right. As highhanded as this is – moving me into his house without my agreement – that isn’t what’s bothering me.
Everything is changing, moving so fast that I can barely catch my breath. One minute, I’m single, having a drink with my best friend at a club, and the next, I’m engaged, pregnant, and relocating. Granted, that might be a little melodramatic – I’m literally only going to be five blocks from here – but this was my home. My new home at that. I just finished unpacking the last box a week ago, and now it’s starting all over again.
It’s not that I don’t want to live with, Jake, I do. Hell, in less than three weeks I’m about to say those exact words to him along with till death do us part. We’re having a baby together in a hair short of three months for God’s sake; if that isn’t me tying myself to him for all eternity, I don’t know what is. So why do I feel like I’m trapped? Why do I want to jump in my car and just keep driving until I run out of gas or can’t keep my eyes open anymore?
“Babe?” Jake prompts.
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, I drop my forehead onto his shoulder and inhale his masculine scent. Jake smells like sweat and soap. He smells like home. Which leaves me asking myself again, why the fuck is this so hard for me?
“I’m scared,” I eventually admit. It’s not a lie; I am. I’m terrified that Jake will wake up one day and have changed his mind about the baby and me. I’m frightened that I won’t make a good wife or mother. And I’m equally worried about what is going to happen with my job while I’m off on maternity leave.
I haven’t discussed this with Jake yet, but I hate my job. As in, despise it. But especially my boss. He is an arrogant, egotistical, sexist pig. And as if the first three weren’t enough, he has a little man complex too, which makes working for him a blast. Not.
“Of what, Farrah. You’re going to have to spell this shit out for me, babe, because I don’t have a fucking clue what about moving in with me could scare you badly enough to throw a shit fit.”
Scoffing at him, I shove his shoulder.
“That was hardly a shit fit, but I’m happy to demonstrate if you need a comparison.”
“Stop deflecting and talk to me,” he says, pinning me with a hard stare.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’m scared I won’t fit my fat ass into my wedding dress. I terrified that I won’t be able to squeeze this gargantuan baby out of my vagina without needing reconstructive surgery afterward. There’s a good chance I will be a terrible mother, considering mine was a verbally abusive alcoholic. My feet hurt. My pelvis feels like it’s on fire twenty-four hours a day thanks to your kid’s big head. I have to leave my new house because my bossy fiancée deems it time for me to move in with him. And I think I’m about to lose my job.”
If I weren’t so stressed out the expression on Jake’s face would have been comical. His face flashes between amused, slightly horrified, to concerned, and then angry.
“What the fuck do you mean, you’re about to lose your job? If that motherfucker is giving you a hard time, I’ll pay him a visit and get him to ease up.” To say Jake hates, my boss, Marco is like saying fucking a man with a thirteen-inch cock won’t hurt. It will, and he does.
The first and only day Jake came to work to pick me up, Marco was in my office screaming at me for not landing a new client we had presented to the week before. Marco was so busy telling me what a shit job I was doing that he didn’t notice Jake standing behind him. However, Marco didn’t miss the hand that clamped down on his shoulder or the way Jake’s eyes filled with fire when he called me a bitch.
Being an account exec at an upscale advertising firm was once upon a time my dream job. I worked to pay my way through college, even though my trust fund would have more than covered it, and went door to door dropping off resumes and all but begging for a job after I graduated. But what I thought would be fun and exciting has turned into the equivalent of having your fingernails pulled out at the root; torturous.
The hours are long, clients are constantly changing their minds and adding to my workload, most of my co-workers are catty bitches, and my boss is an asshole. Maybe not every firm is like, MacDougall and Hawke, but in the marketing and advertising industry it tends to be a dog eat dog world, only pariahs and men need apply.
Shaking my head vehemently, I cry,
“No! I don’t need you to pay him one of your patented visits. Every time you do, someone always ends up crying or bleeding. I mean, I’m grateful that it’s not you, but we have a baby on the way, and I don’t plan on having to explain why his daddy is always dressed in orange.”
“I’ve had some experience with this shit, babe. I wouldn’t get caught, and you know it,” he scoffs as if I’ve offended his delicate ego.
“That’s what they all say. You’re not invincible, Jake Hansen and you’d do well to remember that,” I chastise with a frown.
“Still not the fucking point, though, Farrah. Sure, your boss is a fucking douche, but we already know that. And so what if you lose your job? I earn more than enough to support you and however many kids we have comfortably. I own my place free and clear; same goes with my truck, the SUV I bought you, and my bike,” he shares, but I already knew all that.
Jake and I sat down after he finished his last assignment for D.I.C.E. and discussed our finances. While he isn’t rolling in money, Jake has quite the nest egg tucked away for a rainy day. And with my trust fund and what’s in my savings and checking accounts, our kids will never want for anything, that’s for sure.
“So you going to tell me what the real problem is, baby, or am I going to have to fuck it out of you?” he asks with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Don’t even think about it, buddy. Your son is too busy playing kickball with my vagina right now for me to even consider letting you and your huge cock anywhere near it.”
“If I ignore the whole kid thing, it’s fucking hot to hear you
talk about my cock,” Jake smirks. “So hit me. What got your pretty little panties in a wad this morning?”
“A, I’m not wearing panties. And, B, you didn’t ask. You do shit like this all the time, and just expect me to be okay with it. Well, guess what? I’m not okay with you organizing the guys to come and pack up my stuff. I’m not okay with you doing it without any input from me. And I’m not okay with having to worry that this is what it’s going to be like all the time when we’re married,” I blurt out.
“Fuck,” he hisses and clenches his jaw.
Reaching out and touching him because I can’t help myself where Jake’s concerned, I soften my approach a little. Not a lot, though, because Jake has to understand he fucked up on this one.
“I love you, and your house, Jake. Nothing would make me happier than not having to drive twenty minutes at the end of a long day to come and see you, but I would have liked to have been part of that decision, not an afterthought.”
And I do, love his house, that is.
Claimed: A Forever After Novella Page 9
