Chapter 14 #4
We pause for a second to better adjust ourselves, moving the seat farther back so I can get the right angle, and then he’s gripping my hips, thrusting so deep inside of me it feels like every hollow of my body has been filled.
A moan rips out of me as I begin to move my hips against him.
Our foreheads touch as we move together, slowly at first so I can savor every inch.
He brings his hand between us and begins circling my clit with his thumb.
As the pressure builds inside of me, I move against him faster and faster, harder and harder, until I reach my breaking point.
His hands are on my hips as he thrusts into me so hard that I feel my bones rattle.
The orgasm rips through me, throwing my head back as I grip the seat back.
My body shudders around him. I dip forward, resting my head on his shoulder, utterly spent.
He slows his rhythm down, allowing me to catch my breath but doesn’t stop.
His hips continue to rock against me as he moves himself in and out of me.
Another wave of pleasure begins to build, threatening to drown me.
“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper I barely recognize.
“We got ahead of ourselves tonight, Banshee. I told you my end goal was to have you naked and begging for me.”
“Shhh, I am begging you. Begging you to shut up and make me come one more time.”
Shayne responds to my very unladylike request with a smile that can only be described as animalistic.
He pistons his hips into me as I brace my hands on the roof of his truck.
He’s so insanely big and powerful, it’s a miracle I’m not injured.
Seconds later, we’re both screaming our release, our sweat-dampened bodies heaving.
When I’m able to open my eyes again, I see that the windows of the truck have all fogged over.
We stay pressed together for a moment longer, our breath intermingling in the small space between us.
“That was great and all, but I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again,” I say, unable and unwilling to pull myself off of him.
“I’ll carry you inside,” Shayne says, laughing into the crook of my neck.
“Or we could just live here now. This truck cab meets all my immediate needs,” I offer.
Neither one of us seems particularly inclined. Shayne idly drags his fingers up and down my back. It feels incredibly soothing.
“So, what do we do now?” I ask, pushing myself reluctantly back over to the passenger side.
“Want to come inside for a bit?” Shayne asks, and I nod.
He rights himself, then exits the cab. I grab my underwear from the floor and pull them on over shaking legs. Shayne comes around and opens the passenger door. He reaches for me and I shoot him a questioning look.
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused. He lifts me up and out, carrying me towards the cabin steps.
“I was only kidding!” I protest. “I can walk.”
“It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on my neck.
It’s a bizarre sensation being hauled around like a sack of potatoes, but I don’t hate being nestled in his arms at all.
He puts me down when we get inside and then sets about getting a fire started.
Looking around the space, I realize I’ve never been inside the cabin before.
It’s a single room with a kitchenette, sleeping area, and a pull-out wood-framed futon with a coffee table in front of it.
It’s utilitarian but still cozy. I take a seat on the futon as the bed feels presumptuous.
Shayne said he wanted to talk but didn’t say anything about me staying over.
We obviously have an undeniable physical connection, but whatever else may be going on between us still feels nebulous.
A minute later Shayne joins me on the futon, sighing deeply as he stretches out his long legs in front of him.
I curl my legs up under me and turn to face him, resting my head in the crook of my arm.
It’s hard to read his expression; his face is relaxed, but his eyes are staring fixedly into the distance, lost in thought.
“At least there’s no question anymore,” Shayne says, quietly.
“No question about what?” I ask.
“About Lila and Andy,” he answers, then reaches into his pocket and slides open his phone.
He hands it to me. On the screen is a picture of a photo that I’ve seen hundreds of times— it’s currently hanging in the hallway outside of their bedroom.
It’s of them on their wedding day outside of the courthouse in Meadow Green.
Kody is a tiny little red infant in Jo’s arms.
“That’s Jo and Andy’s wedding photo. What does it have to do with Andy and Lila?
” I ask, genuinely confused. Shayne takes his phone back and scrolls to a different photo, then hands the phone back to me.
It’s a close-up photo of Lila sitting at a kitchen table, her head propped in her hand.
She’s wearing an emerald ring on her middle finger that I recognize instantly.
Ice-cold dread fills my veins. I don’t even need to look back at the picture of Andy and Jo’s wedding. Jo and Lila’s rings are identical.