Embrace Me Forever (Hartley Brothers #3)

19. Blake

19

BLAKE

Pedro Morales, Hartley Marine’s most seasoned chauffeur, drives us home from the airport. Though we traveled light from Denver, the trunk is generously filled with suitcases and groceries, thoughtful provisions from the Hartleys.

As I swing the door open, Poppy leaps about, emitting her unique, cyborg-like bark. Coco, cradled on Georgia-May’s hip, giggles at the sight, clearly delighted by Poppy’s antics, something she has never witnessed.

“Poppy, down,” I command. The pup settles, her robotic tail wagging energetically.

“That’s Poppy,” Georgia-May introduces as Coco attempts to mimic her.

“Bobby,” Coco babbles initially, still trying to figure out what kind of creature the metallic pet is.

“Poppy,” Georgia-May corrects.

“Puppy!” Coco exclaims with joy, her voice bubbling with laughter. Georgia-May sets her on the ground.

“The canine is kid-friendly, right?” she chaffs.

“Let’s test it, shall we?” I suggest with a side smile.

“Does Poppy have a haptic sensor?”

“Try patting the top of her head,” I instruct, watching closely.

As Georgia-May strokes her, Poppy stretches into a downward dog pose, emitting a happy coo. Coco’s laughter fills the air as she edges closer to Poppy, making good ground despite her limited leg movement.

“Puppy!” Coco cheers again.

As Coco and Georgia-May play with my robot pet, I assist Pedro with unloading. He manages the suitcases, and I take the groceries to the kitchen.

“So, Pedro, how does it feel trading those luxury cars for a Ford?” I tease, knowing he’s accustomed to Rob’s and Clay’s high-end vehicles.

“Well, it doesn’t purr quite like a Jaguar,” Pedro quips with a grin. “But to be honest, sir, behind the wheel of this one, I feel more important,” he adds, acknowledging our need for discretion. “I’ll return tomorrow with Coco’s medications.”

Thanks to Isabelle, we managed to replenish Coco’s prescriptions for the month.

“Before you leave, could you do a quick sweep around the neighborhood?” I request. “I don’t think we were followed, but it’s best to double-check.”

“Absolutely, sir. Need anything else?”

“That’ll be all. I really appreciate your help today.”

“My pleasure,” Pedro responds respectfully, then retreats to his car and drives off.

Inside, the girls remain captivated by Poppy. Who would claim a robot dog is merely a device? Yet, I confess, a real puppy might have added an extra layer of joy. Resolving to review the suitcases, I’m determined to ensure that if anything is missing for Georgia-May, I’ll procure it without delay.

Georgia-May’s eyes light up with joy as she rifles through the bounty. Cute clothes, blankets, pillows, and everything else baby. “Oh, they’re so thoughtful! These are exactly what Coco needs.”

“Clay told me they’ve collected tons of baby stuff over the years. Now their places are like treasure troves of baby essentials, and we get to reap all the benefits.”

“Indeed, but they didn’t just pack any items. They chose with care. Look at these,” she muses, her fingers brushing against a set of adorable overalls and charming dresses. Then she picks up a bag full of baby care items. “These are brand new. Those ladies went shopping for me.” She observes the content. Baby powder, lotion, wipes, the lot.

Meanwhile, Coco’s attention shifts from Poppy to the open suitcase. She chatters away to herself, immersed in her own little world of ‘window shopping.’

“Look, Coco, all these are for you, from Aunty Isabelle and Aunty Amber,” Georgia-May coos, introducing our little one to the concept of familial love through fabric and thread.

“They might prefer we drop the ‘aunty’ bit,” I quip.

She laughs. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Then she discovers a note in one of the suitcases. It’s from Clay.

“Hey, that’s for me!” I exclaim, but it’s too late. Georgia-May is already reading it aloud.

“I asked my wife not to include certain items specifically for Georgia-May. It should be your responsibility, Blake! Ensure she has everything she needs.”

I look at her, silently conveying a promise of generosity. “I know you don’t have a credit card, but that won’t stop me from letting you indulge to your heart’s content. Online for now, at least.”

She fixes me with a curious stare. “What don’t you know about me?” she challenges, rising and stepping closer.

I encircle her waist with my arms, but she twists away, her laughter muffled.

“Hey?” I remove my hands from her waist. But then I realize. “Hey…you’re ticklish! Now, that’s something I didn’t know.”

Her face begs me not to exploit that knowledge. She then takes Coco upstairs.

“I’m sorry I haven’t managed to get a crib for you yet,” I say, welcoming her to the guest bedroom, a space she’s already familiar with. Our first time together here seems so long ago. “But if you let me know what kind of crib she needs, I’ll get it right away.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We can sort it out later. Coco will sleep with me on the bed tonight. We’ve got lots of pillows to create a fortress around her so she doesn’t fall over.” She observes the bed. “Although, if I may ask, would you push the bed so it’s flush to the wall?”

“Of course. You don’t have to be shy. Ask me anything, got it?” I assure her, seeing her tentative face.

Seeing the open bathroom door, Coco says, “Duck!”

“We’ll feed the ducks some other time, okay?” I say.

“Oh, this time she means she wants a bath. Though you don’t have a rubber duck, obviously,” Georgia-May explains.

Without question, I prepare the bath, laying out multiple towels around the tub, unsure how many she’ll need. “And I’ll hang the robe here for you.”

Georgia-May pecks me on the cheek, though I can tell something’s on her mind.

“Tell me what else you need,” I insist.

“No, it’s fine. Coco usually uses a bath seat, but the tub is big enough for the two of us, so I’ll be her seat for now,” she says, eyeing the bubbling water, clearly planning her spot.

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Can I borrow your T-shirt tonight?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“And your…um…boxer shorts?”

I’m aware she doesn’t have fresh underwear to change into, but that’s not why I feel this drive to meet her every need. It’s something deeper, almost paternal, pulling every ounce of my experience to be the man she needs. Maybe even the one she wants.

Taking perhaps a bit longer than necessary, I finally respond, “Of course. I’ll put them out on the bed.”

“Love you!” Coco suddenly squeals, throwing her arms up in the air. “Daddy!”

“Coco!” Georgia-May’s face shows a flash of alarm. “He’s Blake,” she quickly corrects, gently covering Coco’s mouth as if to prevent her from insisting. But Coco simply laughs, clearly amused by her mother’s reaction.

And I can’t help but laugh too.

“Sorry, Blake. I mean…she says that a lot when she’s happy,” Georgia-May explains. “She didn’t mean it. I mean, she did, because she loves you, but the ‘daddy’ part?—”

I step closer, hugging them both. “Hey, relax. I take her words to heart, but I know they’re not binding.”

She smiles, though I’m not sure she fully understands what I mean. To be honest, I don’t either because I do take Coco’s words to heart, and I’ll hold on to them for the rest of my life.

As the bathroom door closes, I leave the adorable mother-daughter duo to their peace and use the time to catch up with my man Ryker. “What’s the situation?”

“Santa Fe has been quiet,” he replies. “I’ve kept an eye on Anne and her boyfriend’s residence. No movements out of the ordinary.”

“What about the target I neutralized at Anne’s house?”

“Looks like the authorities are out of the loop. I’m sure Bertram’s men have sanitized the area. Erased every trace as if it never happened.”

“Stay vigilant and report any changes,” I instruct.

“Will do,” Ryker confirms, and I end the call.

“Do you have enough pillows?” I ask, watching Georgia-May build a cozy fortress around her sleeping daughter. I even offer all of mine, as the smaller ones don’t seem quite enough.

“Yes, I think she’s settled now,” she whispers, carefully climbing away from Coco. Then I notice her wince as she moves.

“Aches?” I ask.

“My shoulders are killing me,” she admits, her face tight with discomfort.

“May I?” I offer, gesturing toward her shoulders.

Her eyes meet mine with a na?ve curiosity. “Um…”

“Wait. Are you ticklish on your shoulders too?”

She giggles but doesn’t admit anything.

I add, “If they’re sore, the massage will hurt. In a good way. It definitely won’t make you ticklish.”

That innocent reaction lingers, infused with a shyness that makes me wonder if she’s ever experienced this before.

“Come on, turn around,” I coax her to come closer to the edge of the bed. She sits cross-legged, her back turned to me. Her body stiffens under my touch, her muscles tight with anticipation. “Relax.” I lean in, soothing her with a few kisses and a brush of my beard, something I know she likes.

My T-shirt hangs so loosely on her that I can easily slip my hands under the neckline to reach her shoulders. I start kneading. “Is this good?”

A muted ‘uh-huh’ is all she can manage, and I carry on. At times, she whimpers when I hit a particularly sore spot.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” I murmur, easing the pressure a bit.

Georgia-May lets out a small sigh, her breath mingling with the scent of her that I haven’t discerned before. “That’s better,” she whispers, her body starting to unwind beneath my fingers.

I wrap my palms around her shoulders. Skin to skin, my warmth spreading to her like balm. She reaches back and scoops up my left hand lightly, her fingers tracing the contours of my palm.

She pauses, feeling the uneven surface. “They must’ve hurt.”

“They’re just old scars,” I reply, sidestepping the full story. They’re marks of duty. Not something I’m ashamed of, but they’re not exactly my favorite topic, either. “Do they bother you?” The scars aren’t deep, but she’s so perceptive. Or maybe I held her too close, making them impossible to miss.

“No, your hands are perfect,” she murmurs, her voice laced with seduction. She lets go of my left hand, moving to cradle my right between her shoulder and neck, her touch grazing over the similar scars. Gradually, her body leans against mine as if completely absorbed in our connection, letting the question drop.

I breathe in. That scent of her grows stronger and more arousing. As the massage progresses, her whimpers turn into sated moans.

“Take off the T-shirt, baby,” I whisper, my lips grazing her bare nape. By now, she must feel how hard I am.

Wordlessly, she removes it, and I follow suit, discarding mine.

I maintain my kisses on the back of her neck while my fingers work on her muscles, now tensed with a new anticipation. Her sighs deepen as my hands glide over the peaks of her shoulders, approaching her chest.

“You missed a few spots,” she complains.

“Where are the spots, sweetheart?”

She invites my hands to dip lower, guiding my fingertips along the delicate curve of her breasts. Closing my eyes, I feel the silky fabric of her bra beneath my touch as I massage the contours of her cleavage.

“Lower,” she murmurs.

I reach her nipples. The absence of visual cues intensifies the experience, as I’ve yet to witness her bare form. The sensation of their hardness, the feeling of her squirming at my touch. It’s fucking exquisite torture.

“Lower,” she provokes once more.

Now fully cupping her breasts, I knead them wildly, rubbing against her ever-tautening nipples. “Have I got the spots?”

She releases a breathy whisper, fracturing my thinning self-control. My erection strengthens, painful and throbbing. And she gives it no reprieve, pressing herself against me, her movements demanding.

I groan, holding back the force in my manhood that’s eager to break free. Not wanting to relinquish her voluptuous breasts, I unclasp her bra with my teeth. Not an easy feat, but I take advantage of my effort, letting my lips explore the curve of her back, occasionally grazing her velvety skin with my tongue.

Her supple breasts spill, cascading into my hands. I press them, massage them, lift them. Consumed by arousal, she reaches my cock beneath my briefs, squeezing it with vigor. I can’t bear to be without the sight of her mesmerizing gray eyes.

“Georgia-May…” I turn her around.

I’m met with a woman consumed by intoxication, as if she has downed numerous shots of whiskey and engaged in relentless foreplay. Her breasts protrude, bouncing prettily as she tilts her head up. Yet, her whisper is steady, like an angel sent from heaven. “You are a beautiful man, inside and out. You don’t have to prove it to me.” Her fingers trace a path to rest over my heart. “I’m yours if you want me.”

“I want you, Georgia-May,” I respond. “You should know that.”

I’ve been living on my own for far too long, engaging in sex purely to fulfill my needs. Although I always made sure my partners enjoyed themselves, no matter how casual our encounters were, finding meaning in our togetherness was like trying to comprehend Georgia-May’s math equations. My past experiences have shaped my mindset, leaving me unable to experience love. And it’s clear the woman standing in front of me wants exactly that—love.

“Everything in me is reserved only for you. But I may not be able to love you the way you want me to,” I confess.

“Why are we talking about love?”

“Because of you.”

“And how do you believe I wish to be loved?” she challenges.

“Forever,” I respond, my heart in my throat.

“And that frightens you?”

“I’m terrified of letting you down.” God forbid, I would break her heart if I merely gave it a try with her.

Her gaze is filled with an understanding that pierces my soul. “Every forever begins with a single moment, and yes, it will stumble and falter at times. But missteps won’t disappoint me. All I ask is that you commit fully.”

Entranced by her magnetic eyes, my hand instinctively finds its way to her nape, guiding her toward my waiting lips.

“I haven’t forgotten, Simon Blake,” she declares, sultry yet earnest.

At that moment, ‘Simon’ feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that kiss, then you,” she whispers like a feather. “In that order.”

My cock tells me I should lift her, my teeth grazing her neck as I penetrate her, relishing the sight of her riding me. But I’ve promised her that ‘mind-blowing’ kiss, so I do as my girl asks.

I lower myself to her level, and our lips collide with a fierce intensity. Sucking, twirling, consuming each other. When she demands more, I hold back. Oh, how I love that impatient face!

Immersing in her restlessness, I tease the flesh of her lower lip with the tip of my tongue, giving her a taste before pulling away. Then I come back for more, caressing the inside of her lip with longer strokes. She nips me as if begging me not to pull away again. I grant her wish, pressing my mouth against hers lightly, savoring the simmering stretch. Then, I ravage her.

Her rapid, exhilarated breaths batter the cavity of my mouth—so hot, so weakening. My tongue twists around hers, engaging it in a dance of passion. This motion turns her on, pushing sighs to escape between our pressed lips while her eager hands seek out the hardness beneath my briefs.

“Find something you like?” I groan, pausing our kiss to fully comprehend her wants. It’s fucking sexy seeing her all worked up.

She keeps rubbing my rigid shaft, all fingers and palm, and I reciprocate by stimulating her through the boxer shorts. The pair is mine, and the absence of panties makes my imagination run wild, as if my cock was already touching her pussy.

“Damn it, Blake!” she gasps, then plants a hurried kiss before pulling back from my lips. She devours my neck, then descends to my chest, and further still, leaving a trail of kisses until she reaches my bulge. Her fingers tug at the waistband, removing my underwear. “Now I want you !”

As I stand exposed, her hand wraps around the base of my shaft while her scorching lips glide along my length. Fuck! She’s deepthroating me. I guess even angels can hang up their halos.

I tighten my grip on my back teeth, desperately trying to keep myself from getting too close to the edge as her tongue manipulates my hard-on.

“Sweetheart, I won’t be able to control myself if you continue like this.” With a drawn breath, I reluctantly pull out, the need to savor this incredible pleasure overriding my urge to cum.

She smiles with satisfaction, giving me one last lick on the crown as if to test my resolve.

I squirm, resisting. Then, with an apologetic kiss, I say, “Wait here,” knowing she needs to be close to Coco. Hastily, I dash to my bedroom to retrieve a condom. I slip it on and hurry back to her side.

“Sorry about that,” I murmur, pulling her out to the hallway, just outside the room, so we’re not too close to Coco but far enough so our noise hopefully doesn’t wake her. “I’m all yours.”

She pauses, and her innocent gaze returns. “And I’ll follow you.”

The way she says it melts me. It’s between sweet surrender and fierce admiration. “If you’re not okay with anything I do, just say so.”

“You’ve done so much for me. So whatever you do, it’ll be the icing on the cake.”

I have so many things I want to do to her, like exploit her ticklishness. But tonight, I’ll be gentle with her. In fact, gentle will be more than just the icing on the cake.

Following her surrender, I lift her up. Her legs voluntarily wrap around my waist as I press her against the wall. My fingers coast to her core, parting her sleek entrance, anticipating how I will fit in her. But her scent and pulses bypass any plans, and I enter, not willing to waste another moment. She writhes— wild like a vixen, so wet and tight around me. The sensation is indescribable. Nowhere else feels like her, not on this Earth or in heaven.

As I continue to thrust, Georgia-May alternates between holding on tightly and loosening her grip. Her rhythm is primal, accommodating my needs.

“Blake, I’m close,” she whispers, her hips moving up and down, her legs clinging to me more staunchly. I’m deep in her. She has the stamina and high pain threshold, I give her that.

I beg her, “Hold on a little longer, sweetheart.” My movements become more fervent, desperate to feel her just that much more.

Her body tenses, clenching my cock while her moans become erratic. I reach my breaking point. I shudder against her soft core as I come. A soundless roar escapes me, but I quickly swallow it, determined to hold on to the bliss. Georgia-May presses herself against me, coaxing another release. Her slickness envelopes my length as it cascades down my upright penetration. Then she collapses, her body completely spent, draping helplessly over my shoulder.

“I’ve got ya,” I whisper, supporting her strong and solid as I carry her to bed, right next to sleeping Coco. I cover her with a blanket, murmuring in her ear, “So, how was the icing on the cake?”

She simply hums, her lips forming a smile. I know she’s enjoying more than just the topping of some dessert.

So this is what it’s like being with a woman for whom connection is not merely a distant dream but a tangible reality, far from the laughable notion it once seemed.

“Good night, Georgia-May.” I whisper-kiss her beautifully flushed cheek.

Aware that she needs her peace with Coco, I pad to my room. Utterly intoxicated, my body slams onto the mattress.

But sleep eludes me. With only a rolled towel for a pillow, all others fortifying Coco’s fortress, I toss and turn. But it’s not the lack of pillows. My mind is still racing, my briefs stretch unusually tight as my cock stays sensitive, clinging to the memory of her wetness.

I rise and make my way back to her room. She has shifted position, now lying on her side, facing Coco. The blanket has slipped off her bare back. I cautiously slide in beside her. And oh, that scent. A fragrance that can only come from a feminine climax.

Spooning her, I wrap my arms around her chest, steering clear of her ticklish sides. Her mouth emits a sigh as my hands reach her breasts, still hard and swollen. She shifts toward the center of the bed, creating ample space for me. I plant a kiss on her beautiful neck, feeling a thin sheen of sweat. From now on, this is how I want to sleep every night.