Chapter Fourteen
Patrick
The kiss is deep and hungry, a month of longing poured into a single moment. Our tongues dance and stroke, a slow, intimate dance that feels both brand new and deeply familiar.
Trailing kisses lower, I worship the long line of her neck while my fingers find the knot of her robe.
I pull it open, the soft fabric parting to reveal her body, changed and beautiful by our child.
My half-hard cock rises to its full length, straining against my pajama bottoms, a dull, insistent throb.
"You've been like this whole time," I whisper, my voice rough with need.
Biting my lip, my thumb traces the circle of her bare nipple, feeling it pebble into a tight, sensitive point under my touch.
I roll it gently, my gaze locked on hers as her breath hitches.
Lowering my head, I take the other nipple into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue before sucking softly.
Her hands fly to my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp as a soft moan escapes her lips.
I release her nipple with a wet pop and look down at her, my chest heaving.
"Jesus, Lore," I rasp, my Texas drawl thick with lust. "Look at you.
All swollen with my baby." I cup her heavy breast in my palm, my thumb stroking the wet, hardened peak.
"These tits are perfect. Can't wait to see 'em full of milk. "
Her cheeks flush, but her eyes darken with desire. I fall to kneel before her, my hands gripping her hips, and sit back on my heels. "You're the love of my life," I say, my voice cracking with the weight of it. "And I will spend the rest of our lives proving that to you."
Lore's eyes fill with tears, her hand coming to the side of my head, holding me gently. I look at her knees and see they're shaking.
Getting to my feet, I kiss her again, until we’re both breathless.
I strip the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet, then lay her gently on the bed.
I pull back just long enough to undress completely, my cock springing free, heavy and aching for her, before following her down onto the mattress.
My hands move down her body, tracing the soft curve of her hip, the swell of her belly. I need to feel her, to relearn every inch. But before I can explore further, Lore pushes me to my back, her strength surprising me.
She straddles my waist, her knees on either side of my ribs, the heat of her core hovering just above my cock. I look up at her, at the goddess who is my wife, the mother of my children.
"Lore," I groan, my hands gripping her thighs. "Come here. Sit on my face. I need to taste you."
"I'm huge," she says, a hint of self-consciousness in her voice.
I growl, a low, possessive sound deep in my chest. "You're perfect." My hands grip her hips, and I help her scoot up my body until her wet pussy is hovering just above my face.
The scent of her, clean and musky and utterly intoxicating, fills my lungs.
I use both my forearms to bracket her thighs, my hands wrapping around to grip the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
I pull her down until she's actually sitting on my face, her weight settling over me, sealing me against her. There is no escape, and I want none.
I start slow, my tongue tracing the delicate seam of her folds, tasting the slick evidence of her desire. She gasps, her hands flying out to brace against the headboard.
I flatten my tongue and lick her from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke, savoring every drop. I find her clit, a tight, swollen pearl peeking from its hood, and circle it with the tip of my tongue, feeling her thighs tremble against my ears.
"Patrick," Lore breathes, her voice shaky.
I answer her by sucking her clit into my mouth, applying a gentle, pulsing pressure. I use one hand to spread her wider, my other hand sliding down to tease the slick entrance to her body.
Uncomfortable in that position, I unwind my left hand from her thigh and find her entrance right in front of my chin.
Pushing one finger inside, then two, I curl them to find that spongy, sensitive spot inside her.
Her hips start to move, a subtle, rocking motion against my face, chasing the pleasure I'm building.
I can feel her getting closer. Her breathing becomes ragged, her moans growing louder, more desperate. I double my efforts, my tongue flicking rapidly against her clit as my fingers pump into her, hard and fast. I can feel her pussy start to clench, a telltale sign that she's right on the edge.
"Don't stop," she begs, her voice breaking. "Please, don't stop."
I have no intention of stopping. I suck her clit harder, my tongue a blur of motion, my fingers thrusting deep. I can feel the tension coiling in her body, a spring wound tight, ready to snap. And then it does.
Her entire body goes rigid, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashes over her.
Her pussy clamps down on my fingers like a vise, and a gush of warm, wet fluid floods my mouth.
I don't stop, drinking her down, my tongue working her through the waves of pleasure until she's a sobbing, trembling mess above me.
I gently release her, my face glistening with her essence. She collapses beside me, her body limp and spent, her chest heaving. I roll over, propping myself up on my elbow to look at her.
Lore’s face is flushed, her eyes closed, a single tear tracing a path through the sweat on her temple. I lean in and kiss her softly, letting her taste herself on my lips.
"I love you," I whisper against her mouth. "Now, let me fuck you."
Lorelie
I laugh, a breathy, giddy sound right into his lips. My thighs are still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm I just had, the muscles feeling like warm jelly.
For a minute, we’re just like we used to be, like horny teenagers who can’t keep their hands off each other. I move to my back as he settles on top of me, his familiar weight a comfort I’ve missed desperately.
I spread my thighs, letting him settle between them, a perfect fit. Reaching down, I grab his thick, hard cock and pump it once, twice, my thumb smearing the bead of moisture at the tip.
Patrick groans against my lips, the sound vibrating straight through me. I guide him to my opening, and he pushes forward, sinking into me in one slow, deep stroke that steals my breath.
He fills me completely, stretching me in a way that’s both overwhelming and exactly what I need. We stay like that for a second, kissing while connected in the most visceral way.
With a rough moan, Patrick starts to move, his hips rolling in a steady, powerful rhythm.
My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, my heels digging into the small of his back.
The room is filled with the sound of our bodies moving together, the soft slap of skin on skin, our ragged breaths mingling in the air.
"Look at me," he demands, his voice harsh. "Watch me claim you."
My eyes flutter open and lock onto his. They’re dark, intense, burning with an emotion that makes my heart ache. I see everything in them, the regret, the love, the desperate need to reclaim what we lost.
He sets a punishing pace, his hips driving into me with a force that sends shockwaves through my entire body. Each thrust is hard enough to send me through the headboard, but my husband has that covered with his hand on top of my head.
The bed frame creaks in time with our movements. I arch my back, meeting him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into the powerful muscles of his shoulders.
"Patrick," I gasp, his name a prayer on my lips.
He responds by capturing my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming mine with the same possessive urgency as his cock.
One of his hands slides down my body, his fingers finding my clit, already swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention.
He circles it once, twice, and I shatter.
My orgasm tears through me, a blinding, all-consuming wave of pleasure that leaves me crying out his name.
My body convulses around him, my inner walls clamping down like a vice.
But he doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow down. He rides me through my orgasm, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, pushing me past the point of pleasure into a realm of pure, unadulterated sensation. He's relentless, a man possessed, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from my body.
"Come with me, baby," he pants, his voice rough with exertion. "Let me feel you come on my cock again."
His words are a lit match to gasoline. I can feel another orgasm building, stronger this time, more intense.
It starts deep in my core, a coiling knot of tension that grows tighter with every powerful thrust. His fingers never leave my clit, stroking me in time with his hips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "Patrick, please..."
He answers me with a particularly deep thrust that hits a spot deep inside me, and I see stars.
The world dissolves into a kaleidoscope of color and light, and I'm lost, completely undone by the force of my release.
I scream his name, my body bucking wildly beneath him as a third, more powerful orgasm rips through me.
This time, he follows me over the edge. With a guttural groan that sounds like it's been torn from his soul, Patrick buries himself deep inside me, his own release painting my insides. Collapsing on top of me, he buries his face in my neck.
I run my hands over his back, feeling the muscles relax under my touch. Patrick kisses my neck, a soft, lingering press of his lips, before pulling back. He gets off the bed, and I watch his naked form disappear into the bathroom, hearing the sound of the water running a second later.
He comes back with a warm, damp washcloth and gently cleans me up, his touch tender and sweet.
Then he climbs back in bed, and we snuggle in under the comforter, resting on our sides, Patrick spooning me from behind, his hand resting protectively over my stomach.
I’m just about to drift off, warm and sated, when the doorbell rings.
The sound cuts through the quiet house, sharp and insistent. Every muscle in Patrick’s body goes rigid behind me. He’s instantly awake, all cop.
"Check on Milo," he whispers, his voice low and hard.
He's out of bed in a single, fluid motion, pulling on his pajamas and grabbing the Glock from his bedside lockbox.
I follow, my heart hammering against my ribs, tightening the belt of my robe as I quietly check on our sleeping son before walking to the top of the stairs.
Patrick moves silently down the stairs, his bare feet making no sound on the wood. He flattens himself against the wall next to the door and looks through the peephole. He glances back at me, his expression unreadable.
"It's my dad," he says, his voice still tight.
I tighten the robe's belt, a knot of apprehension forming in my stomach. "Is everything okay?" I ask once Colter’s inside.
He looks at me standing at the top of the stairs and waves me off. "Yes, sorry darlin', didn't mean to scare you. Just had to talk to this one." He avoids my eyes, and I nod, getting the hint. I move back upstairs, but I don't go all the way, just out of sight.
I can hear clearly when Patrick asks, his voice low and wary, "Dad, what's going on?"
Colter's voice is strained. "Do you know a woman named Tashandra Rolly?"
I don't hear anything, but then Colter says, "Well, she knows you. She filed a complaint against you today."
"Why?" Patrick asks, the single word sharp with disbelief.
Colter says, "She's claiming that you assaulted her at O’Riley’s the night of your promotion ceremony."
I feel the floor drop out from underneath me.
No.
My hand flies to my mouth, stifling a gasp. The night of his promotion ceremony… that was the night.
Now she has a name, Tashandra Rolly.
I press myself against the wall, my whole-body trembling. I can hear Patrick's voice, but it sounds distant, underwater.
"That's a lie," he says, his voice desperate. "She came onto me; I turned her down. I never forced her."
"The complaint says otherwise, son," Colter says, his voice grim. "Says you cornered her in the hallway outside the bathrooms. That you wouldn't take no for an answer."
I sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest.
We were finally in a good place again, and now this.
No, no, no.