His cock dangles between my thighs, erect and ready.
And then—
Chapter Forty
Brock
I’m inside her, balls deep.
She feels so… I can’t even describe it because it’s so new to me. I’ve had a lot of sex. I mean, a lot of sex. Every woman is different—the physical sensation, that is. It’s no less true with Rory. She doesn’t feel exactly the same as any other woman I’ve been inside.
What’s different is that I’m feeling something more. Something beyond the physical.
Something I’m not ready to feel.
What I said to her—that I’m not ready to say the words and she’s not ready to hear them.
I don’t even know what those new words are. I just know that they exist somewhere in my mind, and I won’t be able to keep them dormant forever.
My God, she gloves me like no other.
I could stay here forever, not moving, not fucking her at all. Just joined with her, this incredible feeling of completion.
For a moment, nothing else matters. I can forget the conversation with my father and Donny.
Forget that my mother’s life was threatened all those years ago.
Forget—
I pull out and plunge back into Rory.
Such a perfect fit. Every ridge and crevice inside her, every part of her hugs every part of me.
She closes her eyes, sighs softly, parts her lips.
God, I want to kiss her. Kiss her and fuck her slowly, savoring every bit.
But I can’t. Not now. I pull out and ram inside her again.
So much for staying gentle.
I knew what I needed when I called her, and this is it. Nothing can change that now. No amount of touching and feeling and kissing her beautiful neck. No amount of sucking and twisting those nipples, squeezing those beautiful breasts.
I’m back. I’m back where I was when she showed up. Where I was when I made a meal out of her nipples.
I’m here again, and I’m fucking her. Fucking her as hard as I can.
And with each sigh that spews from her lips, with each sigh and soft moan, I know she wants this as much as I do.
“Yes,” she says softly. “Feels so good.”
“God, yes,” I groan.
And then, before I have a chance to stop it—
I plunge inside her, emptying into her.
I lie there for a moment, bracing my weight on my upper arms so I don’t crush this beautiful woman.
But I can’t leave her, can’t bring myself to pull out.
Her thighs are perpendicular to me, her calves wrapped around me, pulling me close to her.
She doesn’t want me to pull out either.
Can’t pull out.
I’m ready, ready to go again.
I’m still hard. So—
“Oh my God! Brock!”
Rory scrambles beneath me, pushing me off her.
“The condom. We didn’t use a condom!”
I drop my mouth open. No words come to me.
I forgot the condom.
And Rory’s not on the pill.
No problem for her. She wants a kid.
I rise from the bed, stalk to the bathroom, stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My face is shiny with sweat, my hair an unruly mess of sweating curls.
I look the way I feel. A jumbled mass of hormones and emotions that I don’t understand.
What was I thinking?
Answer—I wasn’t thinking at all. I was emoting. Totally emoting because of the conversation I had with my father, my cousin, my mother.
Emoting about all the horrible things our families are involved in and knowing that salvation lies within Rory Pike.
Salvation?
There’s no salvation for me. No salvation for the Steel family. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
And now I might’ve gotten a woman pregnant.
I’m twenty-four years old, just a kid in so many ways. I scoff. Didn’t I just tell my father that I’m a grown man? And now? I may really have to step up.
“Brock?”
Rory’s voice. Rory’s soft, sweet, comforting voice.
Hell, this won’t bother her a bit. She wants to be a mother. She wants me to be the father.
Damn it all to hell.
I breathe in, out, and again, and hold it for a few seconds.
Then I return to the bedroom.
Rory is sitting up in bed, her knees clasped to her chest and her arms around them.
Her cheeks are red—and she looks beautiful. Despite the frightened look on her face, she has a gorgeous just-fucked aura that sheathes her in glamor.
“How could you?” I accused. “How could you let me do that?”
“What?”
“The condom, Rory. Why didn’t you remind me?”
A flash of anger crosses her eyes. “Probably for the same reason you didn’t remember it. I was into the moment, into it with you.”
“Still… You’re not on the pill.”
“So this is my responsibility? You’re kidding, right? I’m the one who remembered at the end. I’m the one who pushed you off me. That was me, not you.”
“Yeah, after the deed was already done.”
“Seriously? You’re going to blame me for this?” She slides off the bed, reaches for her jeans, and pulls them on.
“You’re the one who wants a kid. Not me.”