Chapter Seven
It’s Family
Dutch
Dutch woke as usual, on his stomach.
Not as usual, he felt something weighing on his lat and across the small of his back.
It took a second before he smiled.
Georgie.
She was pressed up to him, cheek to his lateral, he could
feel her soft hair there, her arm was around his back.
He liked her just like that, but he had a feeling he’d like
something else better.
So he shifted, which made her shift, and he instantly found
there was more to be into with Georgiana, because she made cute sleepy noises
as they both moved.
This being Dutch turning to his side to face her, Georgiana
giving him room to do that, then burrowing in, tangling her legs with his,
wrapping her arm tight around his waist, shoving her face deep into his chest
then sliding it up, so it was in his throat.
This left him with his chin on top of her hair which was
contained in the poofy ponytail she’d put in it before they’d crashed the night
before.
He slid both his arms around her, gave her a squeeze, and
murmured, “You awake?”
“Mm,” she hummed.
He grinned.
“Baby, good morning kiss,” he prompted.
“No,” she denied. “Morning breath,” she explained.
He let his hands start roaming. She arched into him.
“I’ll brave it,” he said.
She moved her head up, her lips on him now, along his
throat, to the side of his neck.
“Dutch,” she whispered under his ear.
Christ, he liked how she said his name.
His hands began to roam with a purpose.
Her lips moved down his jaw.
“Rough,” she mumbled.
“You like smooth?”
Her eyes found his. “I like you.”
Well, fuck.
Enough play.
He kissed her.
He did not go in easy and he didn’t do that because he had a
morning hard-on.
He did it because he’d woken up for the first time with
Georgie in his bed.
He took her to her back, Dutch on top, and they both got
busy with hands and mouth and tongues.
And she didn’t have anything to worry about. She tasted of a
hint of last night’s toothpaste and Georgie.
All good.
Real good.
He found more to like about her when she demonstrated she
was a woman who wasn’t afraid to use her nails.
She eventually went for his ass.
He went for her tit.
It was generous, way more than a handful, the bud of her
nipple hard against his palm.
Dutch liked the feel of that so much, he tore his mouth from
hers, angled, and gave it another occupation.
He drew her nipple in over her nightie and the noise that
bought him meant he disengaged, dragged her nightgown down, exposing her to
him, and he went back in.
She glided her fingers into his hair, moaning, “Dutch.”
Christ, they’d barely started, and he needed her pussy.
He returned to kissing her mouth, deep and wet, and when she
gave over to his tongue, he guided a hand up her nightgown, over her hip, her
belly, and down.
She gasped around his tongue.
He ended the kiss but didn’t move his lips from hers.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” It was a plea.
This woman.
His woman.
Always more and more to her.
All of it good.
He obliged, sliding his hand in the top of her panties and in.
She opened her legs a little to give him more of that wet
heat.
“Fuck,” he muttered, toying at the heart of the lusciousness
of her.
“Dutch.”
He rolled her clit.
“Dutch.”
He slid a finger inside.
Wet, hot and tight.
Christ.
It was going to be heaven, sinking in there.
“Ohmigod, Dutch.”
He stroked her, her hips moving with his rhythm, then he
pulled out and rolled her clit again.
“Ready for you,” she breathed.
“Unh-unh,” he denied.
Her eyes were hooded, hazy, but they semi-focused on him
when she asked, “What?”
“First time I make you come, gonna
watch.”
“Watch while you’re inside.”
“No.”
“Dutch.”
He put more pressure on her clit, her gaze hooded again, her
back arched, and he ordered, “Baby, just roll with it.”
She either didn’t have a choice because of what he was
doing, or she gave in, because that was what she did. Making hot, sweet little
noises he instantly became addicted to, clutching him, she rode his hand.
Yeah, it was going to be heaven, riding that.
And he watched the show as the heat swept over her, her face
so goddamned gorgeous, his cock beaded and he couldn’t stop himself from
putting his mouth to hers to swallow her sharp cry while he buried two fingers
up her cunt to feel it spasm with her orgasm.
When her body yielded, carefully, he slid out, skated a hand
over her hip and turned them to their sides.
He hooked her leg around his thigh and wrapped her up in his
arms, holding her close.
She cuddled closer.
Neither of them spoke for long beats.
Until she did.
“Are we done?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup.”
“What about you?”
“Tonight.”
“You’re waiting?”
“Worth the wait.”
She stiffened in his arms, relaxed, and mumbled, “Never had
that.”
Say what?
A man had never taken her there?
“A guy has never given you an orgasm?” he asked.
She tipped her head back and he looked down at her.
“Not without taking his own.”
“I’ll get mine tonight.”
Something washed over her, she didn’t hide it, she gave it
to him, all of it.
And then she gave him more, lifting her hand and running her
finger along his jaw in that sweet way she had, looking deep in his eyes, hers
filled with, well…
Fuck.
They were filled with everything.
“What’s happening here?” she whispered.
“A lot,” he stated the obvious.
She melted further into him. “Yeah.”
He grinned at her. “Good we got that understanding.”
“I like your family,” she said.
“They like you,” he replied.
And they did.
After the drama, the night did not go as he’d planned.
That being Dutch having Georgie to himself without Carlyle
or Carolyn or anything taking their attention, and they’d take that time to get
to know each other better.
It had gone to a different plan, with his ma finding out
neither of them had dinner.
She’d then commandeered the kitchen, and her husband to
help, and made him and Georgie food while Jag, Georgie and Dutch alternately
drank beer and took shots of tequila (of which Jag had more, but that was
understandable). While they did this, Georgie and Dutch talked Jag down from
feeling like a sucker for not reading the signs Carolyn was sending.
The night ended with the men doing the dishes and Georgie,
Murtagh and Keely on the couch, the two non-felines in that scenario cackling
and talking in low voices. The feline just laid in Georgie’s lap, purring like
he was in hog heaven.
In other words, watching her with his brother, and his
mother, Dutch got to know her better, and as with everything he was learning
about Georgie, it was beyond good.
It’d been late when they’d left and they did it because
Dutch, not to mention Hound, had noticed that Georgie looked tired and was
trying to hide yawns.
So Hound rounded everyone up and took them home, leaving
Jag’s truck because he wasn’t smashed, but he wasn’t good to drive himself.
And Dutch had wasted no time and gotten his girl to bed.
And now was now.
She shoved her face back into his throat and said, “I don’t
want to leave this bed.” But before he could concur, she yanked her head back
and spoke fast. “But I know we gotta get back on the
case. It’s just, you’ve got a great bed.”
He did have a great bed.
But it wasn’t his bed she didn’t want to leave.
He beat back his smile and spanned her cheek with his hand.
“Baby, I know you’re not a selfish bitch. You’ve proved that repeatedly. You
don’t have to keep reminding me of it.”
Dutch felt the heat against his palm even if he saw the rose
bloom in the apple of her other cheek and she muttered, “Good.”
“And I don’t wanna leave this bed
either. But mostly you in it with me. So how ’bout we make a deal?”
“A deal?”
“Today is Friday. We give Carlyle today. We got a
reservation tonight, that’s ours.” He grinned at her. “We’re gonna get busy after that, and I’m gonna
get mine.”
“Yeah, you are,” she promised on a whisper, shoving closer.
He kept grinning as well as talking. “We give tomorrow to
Carlyle, but even if shit is not sorted, we get Sunday morning just for us. In
this bed. You and me. Work for you?”
“Totes,” she replied.
He felt his body move with laughter even if it wasn’t
audible, except for the shake in the one word he said.
“Totes?”
She smiled at him.
He couldn’t get lost in her cute.
They had to get a move on.
“Another deal,” he continued. “You get the bathroom first
and I’ll make coffee.”
Her smile died and she said, “Okay, but before we hit it, we
talk.”
They’d been talking.
“We are talking.”
“A different kind of talk,” she said.
“About what?” he asked.
She wet her lips, pressed them together and rubbed.
This did not give him good thoughts.
“About what, Georgie?” he pushed.
“About you,” she said softly.
He tensed.
It came soft again when she said, “Please.”
“What about me?”
“You know, Dutch.”
And he did know.
He also knew she gave him Carolyn.
She gave him history about her mom, her dad, her roommate,
her cat, her condo purchase, her job.
Open. Honest. Out there.
This was happening with them.
And she was asking for this.
What was happening between them was a lot.
He had to give her this.
Fuck.
“You get the bathroom, I’ll get coffee,” he muttered.
“Then you get the bathroom, and I’ll pour us coffee. How do
you take yours?”
“Two sugars.”
“Mwrrr!” came
angrily from the side of the bed.
They grinned at each other.
“Quarter can wet food, honey,” she ordered. “Be sure to
break it up.”
“Gotcha,” he replied.
He touched his mouth to hers, then he got that cute, little
squeal when he dragged them both out of bed.
They each did their thing, and apparently, she did really
like his bed because they were going to talk there.
He knew this because, when he was done in the bathroom, he
came out to see her cross-legged in it, Murtagh curled in her lap, her fingers
hooked through a coffee mug, his steaming on the nightstand.
He moved that way.
She checked out his body when he did, and pure Georgie, did