Chapter Eight #2
Well, shit. Getting anything past my old man is impossible. He knows me too damn well. It's almost spooky. Growing up, as soon as my brothers and I even thought about doing some dumb shit, he popped up like a fucking Ninja to shut it down.
I think the only secrets he has from my mom are the ones he carries for us—all the shit we did, or tried to do, that would turn her gray if she knew.
I guess I always thought Chloe was my secret, though, something he hadn't quite managed to figure out yet. Guess I was wrong, because he very clearly knows. From the sounds of it, he's known for a while.
"It's not like that, Pops," I say anyway.
"Yeah, it is," he says softly. "But I'm not going to make you tell me about it. Just…don't be stupid, son. She deserves more than that." He pauses. "So do Colton and Wyatt."
"I know." I blow out a breath. "I know I could fuck up everything for everyone right now."
"What?" He sounds shocked. "That isn't what I meant, kid.
You and that wild girl have belonged to one another for as long as you've both been alive.
For a while there, I was worried as hell that you wouldn't figure it out.
But if you have, good for you. I'm not going to stand in the way or tell you to let her go.
Neither will your ma. We just want you to be smart about it, that's all.
She deserves that from you of all people. "
"I know," I rasp, my grip tight on the phone.
"Don't let her dad and brother find out when she turns up pregnant. I raised you better than that. If she's the one for you, do it right, son. That's how you keep this family intact, understood?"
"I'm working on it."
"Good. Just don't work too goddamn long. Babies only take nine months."
"Jesus Christ."
His deep chuckle rolls down the line. "I'm just saying."
I shake my head, chuckling in response. And then I sober. "Did Uncle Colton call you about us?"
"No. He called to let me know she was with you." He pauses. "For the record, I think he's relieved you're with her. He trusts you."
Well, shit. That does not make me feel any better about lying to him this morning.
"He told you what happened?"
"Yep," my dad growls. "I've been contemplating taking a drive with your uncles since we got off the phone. San Francisco isn't that far."
"It's far enough. He'll have it handled before you guys even roll into town."
"That's the only reason my big ass is still on the couch," Pops grumbles, making me chuckle. "But we'll ride at fucking dawn if needed."
I smile because I know he's not kidding. That's how much Chloe means to my family. I always thought maybe that was because she's Uncle Colton's kid, but I think I'm wising up now. It's got nothing to do with him. It's because of us…because she's mine.
"Thanks, Pops," I say, grateful as hell for him even if I don't tell him nearly often enough. When shit gets tough, he's always there. My whole life, I've looked up to him, admired him, watched the way he loves my ma with his whole heart, and prayed to God I grew up to do him proud.
What I know about love, he taught me. And it'll be those lessons that guide me through whatever comes with Chloe. I won't fuck it up. I refuse to do that for her sake, for mine…and for his.
"Anytime, kid. I mean that. Anytime you need anything, you call me."
"I will."
"Good. Now, get off my phone. I've got shit to do today."
"You called me," I remind him.
"Yeah, well, that was before your ma walked out here in a towel. Now, you're just wasting my precious time."
"Jesus fucking Christ. I'm hanging up now."
His loud laughter and my mom shouting at him not to tell her son her business are the last things I hear before I quickly hang up. Some things I'll never be old enough to hear. Ever.
Chloe stumbles outside, not even an hour later, dressed in nothing but one of my T-shirts, her long, gorgeous legs on display. Her hair is a riot around her, and she's still got a pillow crease across her cheek. She looks beautiful, exactly like she's mine.
My dick turns to steel. My heart leaps into my throat. I should be used to that reaction by now, but it still gets me every time I see her. There is no controlling it. It's like my goddamn dick and my heart just know she owns them both, every single time.
"Hey, baby," I murmur, setting my coffee on a side table and holding out a hand toward her.
She comes straight to my side before crawling onto my lap. I plant my hands on her hips, pulling her close. And then groan softly when I realize she isn't wearing panties beneath my shirt.
My hand glides across her round ass, squeezing gently.
"You're up way too early," she complains, faceplanting into my chest.
"You didn't have to get up." I brush hair away from her face, planting my lips against her temple, just reveling in the weight of her on my lap. In the feel of her in my arms. She's fucking adorable as she burrows against me like I'm her living blanket. "You could have kept sleeping."
"Couldn't," she grumbles, nuzzling her face against my throat. "You weren't in bed."
My heart rolls over in my chest at her response.
"Jesus," I mumble, tipping her head back to kiss her long and deep.
Within seconds, she's moaning against my lips and squirming.
"None of that," I growl, breaking the kiss before it can get out of control.
"What?" She blinks wide eyes at me, fully awake now. "Why not?"
"You need to rest." I slip my hand between her legs, cupping her pussy to show her what I mean.
It's obviously the wrong fucking thing to do because she moans again, her thighs parting like she's giving me permission.
And even though I told myself I was keeping my hands to my damn self today… I don't.
My thumb finds her clit, grinding in slow circles.
Her head falls back, her moan loud enough to carry to the neighbors. Not that I give a fuck. The fence is high enough to give us privacy. No one can see her getting off on my fingers.
"Does that feel good, princess?"
"Yes," she moans.
I tweak her nipple through her shirt, and her hips jerk in response. I'm so caught up in watching the way pleasure dances across her face that I don't even notice where her hands are until one bumps against mine.
Two seconds later, she's got my dick out, stroking from root to tip.
"Chloe," I growl, arching into her perfect hand even though I shouldn't. "You need to rest."
"No. I need this," she retorts, balancing on my thighs as she slips my aching cock between her legs. She whimpers as she slides down, taking me all the way to the hilt.
And Christ, she feels so fucking good.
I grit my teeth, my fingers digging into her hips. I'm already on the verge of losing it, of slamming into her until she's falling apart all around me again. Will it ever stop feeling like this—so goddamn good, so fucking perfect? Somehow, I doubt it.
That isn't a complaint. It's a motherfucking prayer of gratitude.
I force myself to take it slow, lifting her off before dropping her one excruciatingly perfect inch at a time, determined not to hurt her when I've already fucked her raw.
"More," she begs, trying to find the rhythm she wants. "Faster."
"No, just like this, princess." I still her with my hands on her hips, keeping her right where I want her. She scowls at me, but as soon as I lower her an inch, the scowl fades to bliss.
I fuck her nice and slow, my eyes locked on her face the entire time.
I think I could watch her just like this for a lifetime and never grow tired of it.
There's something new to discover every time I'm inside her—like the exact shade of emerald-green her eyes turn when she wants to come.
Or the way she bites her bottom lip right before she moans my name.
Or the way she forces herself to keep her eyes open, as if she's just as desperate to see me in these moments.
She's beautiful, my entire fucking world.
"Christ, Chloe," I groan, my forehead tipped against hers. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"
"I do," she whimpers.
But she doesn't. How can she know that she makes me feral, makes me crazy, and makes my world perfect at the same damn time? She's always been a dream, something out of my reach. Now, she's here, on my lap, dripping on my cock.
I don't just love her. I idolize this beautiful, wild girl.
"Let go for me, princess," I whisper, my lips against hers and my thumb against her clit. "Let me feel you come alive for me."
She pants my name, writhing on the edge, so fucking close.
My teeth in her skin send her tumbling.
My name whispering from her lips drags me with her. I give her everything, whispering gratitude against her flushed skin the whole damn time.
When she finally comes down, she sprawls across me, her breath a soft whimper in my ear. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. For long moments, neither of us says a word.
And then Thanos notices my balls.
"Whoa!" I grab his collar when he attempts to shove his face between my knees to see what's happening down there. "Hell no, Thanos. Those aren't for you."
Chloe buries her face in my throat, her shoulders shaking, as I push him away. He grumbles at me like he's asking how the fuck he was supposed to know that when I'm waving them in his face, and then stomps off to the center of the yard.
He throws himself down on his side, all dramatic huffs and side-eyes.
Chloe laughs again, peeking up at me.
"Don't look at me like that," I grumble. "This is your fault."
"My fault?" She blinks at me. "I didn't do anything."
"Little liar." I press a hard kiss to her lips. "You came out here without panties, looking like a goddess. I'm not responsible for anything that happened after you crawled onto my lap."
"Fine," she smirks. "I'll take credit."
"You mean blame."
"Sure. If that's what you want to call getting orgasms." She shrugs, her expression light. "Please continue to blame me for them."
Christ, she's perfect.