Hold Me (Love The Way Duet 2)

Ella gives the tiniest nod of her head. Her breathing is slower and heavier.

“He can see you,” I tell her.

She takes in a quiet gasp, her head tipping back against the chair, and I can feel how much she wants this. Her thighs are already trembling beneath my palms.

It only takes one movement to switch places with her. Pull her out of her seat, take her place, and pull her into my lap. I undo my pants as soon as I’m underneath her, gripping my cock and use my hands on her hips to guide her down. Ella reaches for my shoulders, her cheeks reddened. She lets out a small moan as the head of my cock meets her opening and I pull her down hard.

The gasp she gives me, with her lips parted and her eyes wide, is fucking everything.

Her pussy is wet for me, and the only resistance she offers is that she’s so tight. I curse softly into her ear as she buries her face in my shoulder and rides me. I’m going to keep her moving, keep her fucking me with the rhythm I want. She wants this too. She wants it so much that she can’t relax into my hands. Ella’s hips move faster in my grip. Almost frenzied.

In a quick glance, I note that Damon hasn’t left.

“He’s still looking,” I whisper at the shell of Ella’s ear. “He’s watching while you fuck me. Do you wish you knew how much he could see, jailbird?”

She doesn’t answer me; instead she struggles to say, “I’m going to—” Her pussy clenches, and I know. It happens again and again, the pace picking up. “I’m going to come—”

“Good girl. Come for me.”

Ella’s orgasm is a pretty, shuddering thing, her face hot on my neck and her hands fisted in my shirt.

When she moves to slow down, I stop her. I’ll lift her up and down myself if I have to. “You’re not done, jailbird. Not until I am. Keep going.”

All’s quiet at Ella’s house the next morning, except for the sputtering of a coffee pot. She’s still sleeping when Damon comes in through the back door for his shift.

When I was done with Ella, Damon had left and Silas was in the rec room, his shift having started. I messaged him a number of times, dancing around the obvious.

I’m at the countertop with a cup of coffee in my hand, and when he sees me, he cocks a brow, closing the sliding door with one hand. I wish I could say I didn’t feel the heat of slight embarrassment.

“Morning,” I tell him.

“Morning to you too.” The awkwardness is only slight.

“About last night …” I start and he finishes.

“I figure I won’t address it unless she needs to be reassured that there is no judgment from me?”

I’m slow to nod, considering his expression.

“Her coping mechanisms are,” he says and breathes in, “apparently compatible with yours.” The grin against his cleanly shaven face is humorous. I huff a laugh, picking up the mug to take a drink.

“Apparently so.”

“Do you think she’ll need reassurance?” he questions in a more serious tone.

I consider him, and the situation before answering. “I think she needs more reassurance that it was all right to cry, more so than anything else. I think she needs to know that whatever happened back then, is okay to put in the past.”

Damon nods, pulling a stool out from the counter to sit beside me. “So, listen. I did some research last night on Ella’s father like you asked me to.”

“Did you find anything that could be helpful?”

“There were some records of her father’s abuse, all sealed and don’t ask me how I got them.”

I nod and tell him, “I won’t ask Silas either.”

“Good. But the records only contained statements and evidence of his abuse toward his first wife, not his second. She tried to press charges once, but they were dismissed on the grounds that she was mentally ill and filed a false report. When she died by suicide, no one questioned it at first.”

“Suicide? I thought—”

“Evidence came to light years later on that. The allegations that Ella’s mother was responsible. It wasn’t suicide, it was murder.”

“Do you have the records of what the evidence was?”

Damon nods his head. “I can send you the file, but keep it to yourself.” He meets my eye. “It was also sealed and it looks like …” He struggles with what to say next. “Whoever sealed it didn’t want it found, is all I’m going to say.”

“So whatever he did to his first wife, he might have done to the second?”

“Potentially, although she never hinted at abuse herself and she certainly had a reason to speak up when she was tried for murder. She also … died by suicide in her cell before the trial was over.”