The Man Who Has No Love (Soulless 3)

“You’re tired.”

I shifted my gaze back to his, losing track of how much time had passed. “It’s been a long day…”

“I can get you home.”

“No, I don’t want to leave.” That was the last thing I wanted. I hadn’t seen him in days. Even sleep deprived, I’d rather be with him than asleep in my own bed.

He finished off his wine. “Then let’s have sex and go to sleep.”

I chuckled. “So romantic.”

His arms scooped under me, and he lifted me to his chest as he carried me to his bedroom.

My arms circled his neck as I held my face close to his, a soft smile on my mouth, my eyes on his lips. It was romantic, having someone who lifted me so effortlessly, who was happy having simple, monogamous sex then falling asleep directly afterward, having a man who was satisfied with me, who didn’t care how late I worked or how little time I had to spend doing other things. He never complained about my job, never asked me to make a sacrifice, and he was just as devoted to his work as I was to mine.

He laid me on the bed before he dropped his bottoms. His hands went to my body next, stripping off each piece of clothing, getting me down to my bare skin before he moved on top of me, his dick just as hard as if I were in lingerie. His lips were on mine in a heated embrace as his hand dug into my hair, moaning once we were combined together, once he felt me as deep as possible.

My nails hooked into his back as my thighs squeezed his hips, my body folded to take his length as deep as possible. I lay there as he did all the work, and I enjoyed it as he breathed against my ear so I could hear his amplified arousal as he tugged on my hair.

He made love to me in a way a man had never done before, with his eyes on me, really seeing me, really connecting with me. He didn’t shy away from the depth of my feelings, when I’d basically told him I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. His feelings didn’t change because they were so innate, so powerful. He was just as devoted to me, just as committed, as ever.

Four

Deacon

I had just finished lunch when Cleo walked inside with Derek.

Derek was in jeans and a polo shirt, looking more dressed up than usual. He preferred shorts and a t-shirt, usually something with his favorite superhero or insect. He ran to the dining table. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, little man.” I patted him on the head before I pulled out the chair for him. “Let’s have lunch before we go.”

He crawled into the chair. “I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad.” I turned to Cleo, who was dressed in a black pencil skirt with a tight white blouse tucked into the waistband. She didn’t wear a lot of black, and when she did, she looked sexy as hell. It was hard to look at her and not kiss her, even though we’d done it for six months. Now, it felt so odd to greet her with a simple look like she was a friend…when she was the woman I fucked almost every night.

She gave me a gentle smile, as if she understood the struggle.

Derek looked down at his plate and sighed. “I’d rather stay with you than Mom, but…I hate your food.”

I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “I want you to be big and strong someday.”

Cleo came to my side. “Hey.”

I turned to her. “Hey.” Deacon couldn’t see us because he was poking his food with his fork, like his chunks of broccoli were alive.

Her hand discreetly went to mine, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

I squeezed hers back.

She moved to the other chair, directly across from me, and folded her napkin into her lap. “Wow, this looks good.”

Derek raised his head and looked at her like she was crazy.

His shocked expression made me chuckle. “You’ll like it more as you get older.”

“Yuck.” He put the vegetable into his mouth and cringed the entire time he chewed.

I ignored his silent protest. “Are you excited, Derek?”

He shrugged, his mood abruptly different.

I exchanged a look with Cleo before I looked at him again. “What’s on your mind, little man?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t have any siblings…not sure how to get along with people.”

“Well, the other kids in your class will be smart like you,” I said. “So, you’ll have lots of stuff in common.”

“You think?” he asked hopefully.

“Absolutely. I know you’re nervous, which is normal, but it’ll pass.” I didn’t eat as quickly as I usually did because I was too busy watching and conversing with my son.

“What if I’m not as smart as the other kids?” he whispered.