Read Online The Death Lords, Volumes 1-3: His Wild Desire, Her Secret Pleasure, Their Private Need by Ella Goode - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ella Goode
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the muscles in his back are bunching up. I’m afraid for the tent. Afraid for him. “This thing is strangling me,” he shouts over his shoulder.
I scramble over and pull the caught nylon out of the way. The zipper gives and he almost knocks the tent over in his struggle to get out.
Through the open flap I watch him run down to the lake. His form disappears and then reappears by the shore. The splash signals his dive into the water.
Zipping up the screen to keep out the bugs, I lie and stare up at the sky through the window at the top of the tent trying to figure out what the hell I should do.
No, I know what I should do. I should move out of Judge’s home, leave Fortune, find a job and start living a new life that doesn’t involve me screwing my stepbrother six ways to Sunday. I should forget about him, his big body and his even bigger heart.
Outside I can hear the faint splashes of water as if he’s trying to swim to Canada. After a long while, those water sounds stop and are replaced with the crunch of branches and dry grass under his feet. He pauses at the door of the tent and then moves away. The picnic table creaks as he drops onto it.
There’d be someone out there for me. Don’t know who, but someone. Maybe a guy who’d left an impossible situation, is still in love with that situation but agrees to settle with me. We’d live a quiet life—him fixing up houses or some shit like that and me cutting hair and doing nails. We’d live in a saltine cracker box house, have two quiet kids and all the while we’d lie on our cold bed, hanging off the edges dreaming about the love we once had but couldn’t keep.
I place my fist over my heart and thump it trying to beat the ache away.
“You trying to drive me out of your heart, sweetness?”
I look up to see Grant standing outside the screen. The moonlight isn’t bright enough for me to make out his features but I hear the tired frustration in his voice. He’s hurt and that I can’t stand.
I crawl over and unzip the screen. “As if that could ever happen.”
“Better not.”
He’s still wet from the lake, but I draw him down, not caring that he’s getting me and the top of the sleeping bags damp. Everything will dry out tomorrow. He kicks off his sodden shorts and kneels between my legs. Water droplets are dotting his broad forehead and the strong lines of his nose. He places both large hands on either side of my legs. “Let it go,” he begs. “Just for tonight.”
And then he pleads with his tongue against my center. His tongue and fingers and mouth work me tenderly, lovingly, erotically. He rears up and this time the wetness covering his face is from me, not the water. In one swift movement, he impales me.
“Sweetness,” he says, “I’m going to take care of everything. Let go.”
With him thick and hard inside me, when he’s hitting every sensitive nerve ending just right, I believe every word that he says. Winding my fingers into his hair, I close my eyes and do as he asks. I let go and allow him to take me to the place in my head that knows only pleasure.
•••
Sean Ellerby gets to me before Grant can get to him. I know this because if Grant had spoken with him, Sean wouldn’t be between me and my car outside the Cut-n-Curl after closing. When I see him unharmed, I breathe a sigh of relief. No bruises likely means Grant hasn’t beaten him in violation of his parole. It doesn’t matter that Grant thinks he can scare Sean into keeping our secret. Sean is a weasel and worse, a meth head who is constantly looking for his next hit. He’d sell his mother or sister if he thought it could get him access to more drugs.
The backdoor of the shop closes behind me, locking into place. I have keys but I’d have to turn my back on him to open the door. I could run around to the front and wave for help but…he knows something about me that I don’t want him to reveal to anyone else. I decide to bluster my way through this.
Fisting my
I scramble over and pull the caught nylon out of the way. The zipper gives and he almost knocks the tent over in his struggle to get out.
Through the open flap I watch him run down to the lake. His form disappears and then reappears by the shore. The splash signals his dive into the water.
Zipping up the screen to keep out the bugs, I lie and stare up at the sky through the window at the top of the tent trying to figure out what the hell I should do.
No, I know what I should do. I should move out of Judge’s home, leave Fortune, find a job and start living a new life that doesn’t involve me screwing my stepbrother six ways to Sunday. I should forget about him, his big body and his even bigger heart.
Outside I can hear the faint splashes of water as if he’s trying to swim to Canada. After a long while, those water sounds stop and are replaced with the crunch of branches and dry grass under his feet. He pauses at the door of the tent and then moves away. The picnic table creaks as he drops onto it.
There’d be someone out there for me. Don’t know who, but someone. Maybe a guy who’d left an impossible situation, is still in love with that situation but agrees to settle with me. We’d live a quiet life—him fixing up houses or some shit like that and me cutting hair and doing nails. We’d live in a saltine cracker box house, have two quiet kids and all the while we’d lie on our cold bed, hanging off the edges dreaming about the love we once had but couldn’t keep.
I place my fist over my heart and thump it trying to beat the ache away.
“You trying to drive me out of your heart, sweetness?”
I look up to see Grant standing outside the screen. The moonlight isn’t bright enough for me to make out his features but I hear the tired frustration in his voice. He’s hurt and that I can’t stand.
I crawl over and unzip the screen. “As if that could ever happen.”
“Better not.”
He’s still wet from the lake, but I draw him down, not caring that he’s getting me and the top of the sleeping bags damp. Everything will dry out tomorrow. He kicks off his sodden shorts and kneels between my legs. Water droplets are dotting his broad forehead and the strong lines of his nose. He places both large hands on either side of my legs. “Let it go,” he begs. “Just for tonight.”
And then he pleads with his tongue against my center. His tongue and fingers and mouth work me tenderly, lovingly, erotically. He rears up and this time the wetness covering his face is from me, not the water. In one swift movement, he impales me.
“Sweetness,” he says, “I’m going to take care of everything. Let go.”
With him thick and hard inside me, when he’s hitting every sensitive nerve ending just right, I believe every word that he says. Winding my fingers into his hair, I close my eyes and do as he asks. I let go and allow him to take me to the place in my head that knows only pleasure.
•••
Sean Ellerby gets to me before Grant can get to him. I know this because if Grant had spoken with him, Sean wouldn’t be between me and my car outside the Cut-n-Curl after closing. When I see him unharmed, I breathe a sigh of relief. No bruises likely means Grant hasn’t beaten him in violation of his parole. It doesn’t matter that Grant thinks he can scare Sean into keeping our secret. Sean is a weasel and worse, a meth head who is constantly looking for his next hit. He’d sell his mother or sister if he thought it could get him access to more drugs.
The backdoor of the shop closes behind me, locking into place. I have keys but I’d have to turn my back on him to open the door. I could run around to the front and wave for help but…he knows something about me that I don’t want him to reveal to anyone else. I decide to bluster my way through this.
Fisting my
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