Chapter 25 Worth Fighting For #2
She had about five seconds to question his response before Lance was in motion, and the next thing she knew, she was bent over the side of the bed and her nightshirt had been shoved up to her shoulders. A breathless laugh escaped her as his lips trailed down her spine.
He reached down gave her ass a one-handed squeeze, the other arm curling around her to catch a boob.
With his hands full of her, he let out a rumbling groan.
“Every inch.” He slid his tongue over the curve of her hipbone.
“Fucking.” His hand left her butt to reach between her thighs, where his fingers swept up to tease her clit. “Perfect.”
Lynnette gasped and clenched at the sheet beneath her. “Lance,” she said on a moan.
His lips changed direction, ghosting across the center of her back, and tingles washed through her in breath-stealing waves.
“Fuck, Lynn,” he murmured, his breath hot on her skin, “you have no idea how goddamn hard I get every time I see this tattoo.” His tongue swept over another portion of skin, presumably in the vicinity of her impulsive ink.
At the same time, his fingers slipped between her pussy lips, gliding over her in sensual strokes.
She had to swallow to find her voice. “I’m glad you like it.”
Lance chuckled and his mouth lifted from her skin. “Oh, I like it.” His fingers grazed her clit one more time. “Speaking of what we like….” He pulled his hand from her pussy and nudged her knees further apart. “Your pussy’s dripping for me, sweetheart. It’d be rude of me not to take care of that.”
She would have laughed if he hadn’t followed the statement by grinding his cock over her aching center. It was a teasing, torturous method that had her hips rolling backward for more.
“That’s my girl,” Lance breathed over her ear. “So wet and needy.” He moved one hand to balance himself, settling it over the top of one of hers and threading their fingers, and curled the other around her middle. With a steady roll of his hips, his cock pushed into her, filling her far too slowly.
She wanted to squirm. Wanted him to slam into her. Wanted to feel his hands, his lips, his tongue, on every part of her while he split her open in the most pleasurable way. No one had ever made her so wild.
He held her stationary until he was fully seated inside her.
Then he let out a groan, rocked his hips, and dropped his head in order to kiss a path across her neck.
The arm around her middle loosened as his hand angled lower, fingers finding and rubbing over her clit.
He eased out to the tip, then fucked back into her in a single, harder thrust that had her moaning.
Everything became a blur after that.
Lance held her, kissed her, and pounded into her until her orgasm crashed. Then he lifted her up, pinned her to a wall, and did it again. Except that time, he went with her, his fingers bruising her hips as they groaned into each other’s mouths and her body pulled every last drop from his.
When they eventually crawled back into bed, Lance tugged her on top of him and tangled their legs. She could hear his heart beating steadily beneath her ear, and somehow it reminded her of the comforting weight of his tags that still hung from her neck.
“Since you don’t have to worry about work, and my job’s not exactly off the ground yet, let’s go visit your dad this weekend.”
Lynnette blinked. Hard. Twice. “You want to what?” Post-orgasmic exhaustion and the bone-melting soak they’d just taken must have broken her hearing.
Lance chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “I wanna meet my future father-in-law,” he said. “And I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind some time to catch up? Seems like you get along.”
Her throat swelled. He wasn’t wrong. But… “Dad is highly liable to shoot you.”
“All the more exciting.” Lance shifted beneath her and she felt him press a kiss to her head before resettling.
“Lynn, I love you. I’m staying in your life, no matter what.
So, all jokes aside, I’m gonna have to meet the people important to you at some point.
It doesn’t have to be this weekend if you’re not ready. I just thought the timing worked.”
Her heart raced, seemingly forgetting how tired she’d been three minutes earlier, and Lynnette wiggled around until she could see his face. She needed to see his expression.
He watched her calmly, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness of the room. His lips were tipped up, but that was his default expression. He wasn’t holding back a laugh. His jaw wasn’t taut with frustration or resignation. He was … serious. About everything.
About her. About them.
About meeting her father.
The breath rushed from her lungs and Lynnette sagged against him for several seconds. Was it too soon? It arguably ought to have been, but in her heart, it didn’t feel too soon. She just … hadn’t been prepared.
Her distracted vision refocused and before she could lift her head again, she caught sight of the chain that was trapped between their bodies. Lance’s tags. Her lips lifted in a smile. She was already wearing his name. It really wasn’t too soon at all.
“You guys really don’t have to be helping me with this,” Jenna said as Jon and Lance carried in the second set of shiny new seats for her bakery.
She finally had it back, fully released and a formal statement of apology from the Leeland County Sheriff’s Department to boot, but enough time had passed that what would have been an unpleasant job for some insurance-paid stiffs had become an insurance nightmare and triple the work.
Apparently, her insurance company didn’t want to pay past the initial damage from when the law seized the property.
They wanted Jenna to chase the county for reimbursement on product loss and any other out-of-pocket expenses.
The county acknowledged things had been mishandled, but insisted they’d done their due diligence keeping it ‘secured.’
Lance still didn’t know how securing a building meant the perishable food inside was expected to not spoil, especially with the power shut off. Let alone how they could claim that when their own deputy agreed some third party had broken in while it was under their control at least once.
And damn had that someone made a mess.
“Oh, yes they do,” Lynn piped up from where she was working. Lance could hear the grin in her voice despite being at the wrong angle to see the way it shined in her eyes. “What else are fiancés for if not heavy lifting?”
Lance grinned, met Jon’s gaze from across the newly placed table, and they simultaneously dropped into their best muscle-head voices with a loud, grunted, “Oorah!”
Both women laughed.
Jenna’s shift manager, a decent guy with respectable enthusiasm, laughed with them.
“See?” Lynn said. “Grunt work is all they know. Let them be.”
Lance tucked his armload appropriately into place and turned to face the beautiful woman he’d somehow lucked into. “I’ll remember you said that tonight.”
To her credit, her face only reddened slightly before she swung her long-handled feather duster toward him with her left hand, the already-replaced overhead lights catching on the polished diamond she’d picked up from the jeweler late the previous afternoon.
“Lance Blackburn! Less talking, more heavy lifting, on the double! Work like you mean it or sleep on the porch!”
Eric, the manager, snorted in his attempt to hide his laughter.
Lance couldn’t be offended. She didn’t mean the threat and he didn’t care if she used him for his muscles from time to time. So, he raised his arms to give a showy flex, tossed her a wink, and strode back through the door.
They had a full day of good, old-fashioned labor planned, but he didn’t mind in the least. Hell, he could barely keep focused on it.
True to his word, they’d flown down to San Diego the previous Friday to surprise her father.
And of course, Daniel Garver hadn’t taken to him right away.
Their communication had started with the begrudging acknowledgment and respect between two servicemen, hampered the tiniest bit by the inherent good-natured rivalry between branches.
Lance had seen the moment Mr. Garver had noticed the tags that hung around Lynn’s neck, and he saw in the man’s eyes a level of understanding.
Not so much appreciation, but understanding.
It hadn’t been until Sunday evening when Lance had approached Petty Officer Second Class Daniel Garver about marrying his daughter.
Which, of course, was his favorite conversation ever.
It turned out there really were fathers who felt protective instincts for their children, even grown, and those old clichés were stereotypes for a reason.
Fortunately, Lance had seen his share of gun barrels, and he knew an empty threat when it was aimed at him.
“I’m not saying I’ll back off if you say no.
I won’t. But your approval is important to her, so I would ease up.
Give it some more time. We’d have more of these fun father-future-son-in-law chats.
You’d get used to me whether you wanted to or not, because I’ll be here.
No certificate or piece of jewelry will change that.
And sooner or later, you’ll come around, and you’ll give me your blessing. Once you’re convinced.”
Daniel didn’t like that. He narrowed his eyes and made a show of getting comfortable, gun still pointed outward. “Bullshit. You just met. You’re using my daughter as a rebound for your career, nothing more, nothing less. No way in hell am I agreeing to that.”