Chapter 29 Unwrapped My Gift
unwrapped my gift
Cian
“She was an addict when she was young. Kicked everything. Became an addiction recovery counselor because she knew the brutality of addiction, what it took to be whole, without drugs and alcohol, and was willing to sit in the pit with those who were struggling. Randy was a saving grace for her, but he didn’t like her chosen profession.
He felt it was too close to reliving the thirst as he called it.
He didn’t stop her, but if he were the stopping type, he would have.
” She holds my eyes, before dropping her head to my chest.
“Losing him was a blow she wasn’t prepared for, and I worried about her, but she turned her focus to Renée and to me, and we all pushed through together as a family. He was a dad to me. She’s always been the only mom I’ll ever know. Mom, not mother—there’s a distinction.”
Yeah, I get that, but still, something doesn’t add up.
“Anyway, she goes to work, picks Née up from school, and spends time with us. She’s had that one seizure that I know of.
Hate to say it, but the only place she could meet anyone that could do anything like this is at the rehab.
She would tell me, wouldn’t she? If she were in danger?
” Her grip on my shirt tightens and she yanks as if holding herself up or pulling me down. Both seem accurate.
I lift one of the hands I have wrapped around her to the back of her head and drop my voice. “I don’t know. But an addict would want drugs. Why would they be ransacking the place if there are none here to find?”
She keeps shaking her head.
“Where’s your mind going? You have a brain that makes connections and looks for systems. Spitball with me. Nothing is off the table.”
“Could she have had another seizure? Could this have anything to do with me? Does this lead people to Renée or me? Shit in the media is too frequent, and we’ve been compromised. We could be found.”
I squeeze her and my voice goes low. “That is off the table.”
“The mugshot, the FBI, two ambulances. We’re at risk and you know—you know, Cian—what that risk is. I won’t allow it.”
“I will not lose you again.” I squat just enough to be eye level. “And I will never let you lose your daughter. So get that out of your head.”
The click and pop of the stretcher locking into place is met with the paramedics barking to one another and beginning the choreography of moving a stretcher through the house.
“Where are you taking her?” Sariah asks.
“Swedish. Unless something happens and we have to divert.”
I nod at the medical tech and lower my voice, “Am I taking you to Swedish or to Renée?”
“Please, universe, don’t let me have to answer that question for the third time today.”
“That’s not an answer, Angel.”
“I need my daughter. Will you check on Rosie?”
“Absolutely. Let’s get you home.”
She freezes in my arms. “I— I don’t want to be…” She swallows and takes a deep breath. “But I’m scared to go home.”
“My home. Our home if you’ll let it be. I need you safe, so for now, just be there, with Renée where no one would think to look. Nothing ties you to it.”
Yet.
We lock up the house behind us and hurry to the truck. The rush home for expected sex was way more fun than this urgency.
We arrive just on the heels of Liam and Renée, the younger looking wild from the ride. I can’t tell if she’s relieved to be off the motorcycle or disappointed.
Sariah pulls her in and barely lets her go.
“Can you stay?” I ask my brother.
His head pulls back, and his brows pinch, but he nods.
I drop my voice so Renée can’t hear. “Rosie is unconscious. She’s at Swedish and I promised Sariah—” I look through my front door from my spot in the driveway.
“Enough said.” He slaps my shoulder.
I return to the truck and wonder how my day went downhill so quickly.
Sariah
I must’ve fallen asleep at some point. I mean, obviously I did, because I wake to an arm sliding over my waist and lips hitting my shoulder.
“Ci?”
“I sure hope so.” At least there’s humor in his voice.
“What time is it?”
“Just after midnight.”
That’s odd. I’m usually asleep by now, sure, but in a new-to-me house and a new-to-me bed, I’d think it would take longer. “Liam took the sofa and told me he wouldn’t share.”
The humor is gone. “What?”
“Don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not.”
He so is.
“Are you mad that I’m here?”
A hand at my belly flattens me to my back, and I look up into Cian’s shadowed face.
“I’m mad you’d want to share a sofa with my brother rather than sleep where you belong.”
“In your bed?”
He huffs an exasperated sigh. “At my side.”
Oh.
“I need to know that I’m reading this right, Angel.
I thought we were both in this. The past is behind us and the future lies ahead of us, but that future is me and you.
Renée, too, any other kids we choose. Then grandkids.
If we live long enough, great-grands. But that means you and I are in the same house and the same bed, and I’m in you. Are we on the same page?”
I nod. “We are.” I stretch a hand up to his jaw, the previously injured side, rubbing a finger there. I cup his cheek. “I’m sorry, Ci. I didn’t want to assume.”
His mouth hits mine, and his lips kiss their way across my cheek to my ear. “Assume, baby. Please fucking assume.”
He rolls his pelvis at my thigh, and I moan, reaching between us to the waistband of his sleep pants and trailing my fingers across the skin just inside. “These need to come off, Ci.”
He freezes. His eyes are glued to mine, nothing but moonlight to highlight and shadow his handsome face. “You sure?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” I shimmy my sleep shorts and panties down my legs and flick them somewhere under the covers.
“You unwrapped my gift.” He pouts and hovers above me, lifting his hips so I can push his pants down, first with my hands, then with my feet to the outside of his legs sliding them ever so slowly, positioning him right where I need him.
“Angel,” he growls.
My hips rise, seeking his. “Need you, love.”
He dips his face to mine, taking my mouth thoroughly and deeply. One hand slowly trails down my side and over my hip, rounding my thigh. He butterflies my leg wide and uses his fingers to trail little patterns toward my center, never quite getting where I need him to go.
His other hand mirrors the action, torturing me with a slow lift of my tank and a teasing circle around my nipple, before going straight down my belly, veering at the last second, to my thigh, pulling me wide on that side.
His hips settle. His hot hard length is so close and still too damn far away. He rubs the underside of his dick against my clit, and I gasp, lifting my hips, but finding no relief.
When I reach between us to guide him to me, he smiles and pulls back. Kissing his way down my chest, he settles at my core, his wide shoulder holding me in place before he drops his head and licks my center from my opening to my clit. And again. And again.
He fucks me with his tongue, flicking my clit, and moaning as if the pleasure is all his. The vibration runs straight up my center, liquifying my insides, making me desperate.
Lick. Flick. Suck. Moan.
“Fuck, Angel. You taste better than I remember.”
Lick. Flick. Suck.
The pace, the enthusiasm. All my inhibitions are gone, falling away until only pleasure remains.
My body thrums.
My fists clench the sheets at my hips.
My center stretches for his tongue.
My mind blanks.
And he sucks my clit. Hard.
My body seizes and melts in the same moment, as bliss overtakes every muscle in my body. Fireworks dance on my eyelids, my hearing tunnels to an echo of rushing wind, and everything in me extends toward the man delivering the insane pleasure.
He positions over me, hovering on his forearms, and holds my gaze as his cock slides through my wetness. His hot tip hitting my overly sensitive clit elicits a gasp I can’t stop.
“Angel?” The man above me is asking so many questions with that one word. The answer to all of them is yes.
“Please Ci.”
With one smooth, hard thrust he fills me, stretches me wide, and bottoms out. His groan rattles his chest and our connection. “Home.” He drops his elbows to the mattress above my shoulders and stares into my face as he slowly draws out and slams back home.
Over and over and over again.
The torturous drag almost entirely from my body and the brutal bliss of him filling me is more than just the best sex of my life. It’s finally being whole again. I didn’t realize how incomplete my life had been until this moment.
My body is so satisfied and so hungry at the same time. My ears behold the symphony or our joining. I smell us. I taste him and me on my lips.
The only thing I can see above me is the man who never left my heart. His neck strains with corded muscles. His rounded shoulders flex. He releases a grunted moan with each thrust that tells me of his pleasure. He warms me and envelops me.
He is everything.
A tear escapes my eye, and I drop my lids closed, overwhelmed.
And everything stops.
Everything.
“Angel? Baby, open your eyes.”
When I do, I find a look of such concern on his face. I lift my feet from the mattress where I was meeting him thrust for thrust, and wrap a leg above his ass and the other nearer his shoulder blades.
“Don’t stop. Ci. Never ever stop.”
He twists and ruts in, pulsing faster and faster, the long pushes and pulls a thing of the past. He’s so deep and I take and take, so fucking thankful that he was my first.
And that he’ll be my last.
He forces a hand between us and finds my clit, strumming with firm pressure as his strokes get faster and more erratic.
“Get there, Angel. Need you to get there because I’m going to…”
He doesn’t say more, because my orgasm trips his, and he plants deep as we tumble together pulling each other under with wave after wave of pleasure.
I may have blacked out. I don’t know.
The second orgasm was longer and deeper and more all-encompassing. Cian languidly strokes in and out of me, staring down as if he’s never seen me before.
He finally slows but doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shoves both his arms under my back, plants his knees, and sits back on his heels. I’m wrapped around him like a monkey and impaled on his semihard cock.
“I don’t want to leave you.” His whispered confession warms every part of me.
“Then don’t,” I whisper back.
“I love you, Sariah Ocotea.”
“And I love you.”
He dips his mouth to mine and seals our evening with a searing kiss, his dick twitching and hardening inside me.
“You’re leaking out of me.”
“Call it lubrication.” He thrust his hips up in a quick jab, his pelvis rocking against my clit.
“Oh fuck.”
“Exactly.”
We go again. There’s nothing sweet or languid in this round. This one is straight carnal pleasure.
He bounces me on his dick, spearing me in a quick brutal succession.
I don’t think I can find my third. Multiples have always eluded me. Just when I think this round is for him and I’ll be okay without a release, he licks his thumb and rubs it against my ass.
“Oh fuck,” I say again.
“Come on, Angel, ride me. Fuck my cock.” He rocks as I bounce, meeting me thrust for thrust and when his thumb breaches my hole, pressing against his length through the wall, I release a moan that he quickly swallows down.
I ride as much as I can, overwhelmed with sensation, and finally reach to stroke my own clit, wanting so badly to bring him with me again.
And that’s it. A hard rub on the painful, swollen bud, and I explode.
He swallows my moan on a laugh and that drags out the slow ocean of sensation. His cock, his thumb, my fingers, the vibration of it all deep inside me. I fall into weightlessness, into a night of exploding stars and shooting comets. I fall into his perfection. And I let go.
I’m aware when the warm washcloth rubs between my legs. I flinch when it hits my oversensitive clit. I can barely lift my leg to help. Hell, maybe I don’t.
Rode hard and put up wet.
Maybe I think it. Maybe I say it, but I’m asleep before I can figure out which.