I reclaim that pussy as mine.
"Going to come again, baby," she whispers to me, and it brings me right to the fucking precipice.
It's not her tight cunt, or the way her tits jiggle as I fuck her. It's not how wet she is or how good she feels against my cock.
It's the way she just called me "baby" that has me seeing stars. My balls tighten and I lurch into her, trying to go impossibly deeper even though I'm burying myself to the root with every thrust.
Gracen screams, a tormented sound ripping out of her throat and her entire body shudders. Her pussy contracts around my cock, demanding my semen.
"Baby."
I punch my hips hard, slamming into her one last time so hard it makes the sound of a thunderclap and I unload what seems like a never-ending stream of cum into her. The pleasure ripples up my spine and I groan out the only thing I can possibly think to say, "Gracie."
My body falls on top of her. My chest presses to hers, and I can feel the reverberation of both our heartbeats.
Gracen lets out a sigh of contentment as her fingers stroke the back of my neck. I used to love just lying with her after we both came, letting my cock soften inside of her as we would become drowsy.
Man...those memories.
I stare down at Gracen. Her eyes are closed and there is a soft smile on her face. Her fingers move in lazy circles over the back of my neck down into my shoulders.
I know Gracen said that we would just get this out of our systems, but as I look down at her and feel my cock still nestled sweetly in her cunt, I know that one time is not going to do it for me. I slip my arms under her back and lift her from the table. She doesn't protest, but instead locks her legs around my waist and wraps her arms around my neck.
Silently, I carry her back through the foyer, through the formal room, and into the master bedroom. She doesn't say a word as I lay her on the bed.
Not a single thing is uttered between us as I peel off the rest of my clothes.
My cock is still half hard but nowhere near satisfied. I take it in hand and give it a few slow strokes before I raise a knee to the mattress. She scoots over to give me some room and turns on her side to watch me.
I kneel beside her, legs spread, and my palm stroking my dick lightly.
Gracen looks up to me, eyelids fluttering as she licks her lower lip. "I know what you want," she says softly.
"What's that?"
Her eyes drag down my body, where they lock onto my shaft, which is starting to lengthen under the weight her stare.
Another tiny lick to her lip.
"You want my mouth," she says assuredly. Her gaze travels back up until she staring at me with a confidence that I always loved about her. "And I want to give it to you."
I swell and harden until I've got all eight inches hovering right in front of her face. Yeah, I'm not sure two times is going to be enough to get this out of our systems.
Chapter 18
Gracen
Marek's breathing seems deep and steady, thus it's a good time to make my escape. I'm embarrassed I'm still in his bed. Even more embarrassed that I've got my head on his chest and my arm wrapped around his waist. When the morning sunlight filtered in under his roman shades and woke me up, I'd silently berated myself for still being here.
This was supposed to be a one-night-only thing, fueled by drunken desires.
That did not mean cuddling in bed, and I sure as hell don't want to face any wrath he might be feeling to find me here.
Marek's arms are stretched wide to either side of his body, so the cuddling was one-sided last night. We'd gone at each other twice more after we got into his bed, and then practically passed out from exhaustion and too much alcohol. At some point in the night, I'd unwittingly curled into him.
Now I'm uncurling.
I manage to slide out of bed without him noticing, giving one last look at his perfect body lying splendidly naked in the middle. His head is turned slightly toward the window and his chest is rising and falling deeply.
After slinking naked into the dining room, I put on my clothes that had been discarded last night. Memories of what he did to me on that table cause me to flush hot. I pick up Marek's clothes, fold them, and lay them on the table. I'll throw them into his laundry basket later.
At one point last night, Marek was tossing me around and putting me in different positions on the bed. All that sliding around left a rat's nest on my head, but nothing a little conditioner won't help right now. A soft sigh escapes at the prospect of a hot, cleansing shower to wipe away all evidence of last night so we can go back to being just parents to Lilly. Why that thought makes me so sad isn't hard to figure out, since I'm the one with residual feelings.
I tiptoe from the dining room through the formal sitting room. As I make my way past the white leather sofa separating the area from the foyer, movement from my left catches my eyes. I turn to look at the large double doors that are mostly glass, and my heart practically stops as I see Owen walking up the front porch steps.
Owen is here.
I walk quickly toward him before he can knock or ring the doorbell. As I approach, his head lifts and his eyes lock on me.
He is not happy.
I unlock the door, step onto the porch, and pull it shut behind me, cringing at the tiny tinkling of bells just inside sounding from the camera/motion detector Marek has mounted just above the door. Thank God I shut his bedroom door when I crept out; he'll sleep on oblivious.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss at him angrily.
He doesn't respond, but instead gives me a slow, cold perusal running his eyes in scrutinizing fashion from my toes to my head. His eyes linger and narrow on my breasts, and I cross my arms across them protectively.
This amuses him and his smirking gaze slides up to my face. "You're not answering my calls or texts, Gracen. What did you think I'd do?"
"Why would I answer your calls or texts?" I snap at him, but I'm still able to keep my voice low. "I told you I wasn't coming back. The wedding is off."
"Don't you love me?" he asks mockingly.
I refuse to answer him, just lifting my chin higher.
"Don't you love your parents?" he snarls, taking a step toward me. "Or did you forget I've got the power to ruin them?"
My stomach rolls with nausea over the threat to my mom and dad. I have no good comeback, because the bank has not responded to my email or follow-up call. I made my choice to potentially abandon them when I called off the wedding, and now I'm regretting that.
I decide I'm not above begging Owen. I'll plead with him not to take this out on two innocent people caught in the crossfire of this weird and volatile obsession he has with me. Perhaps he has a soul buried down deep.
But I don't get a chance to lower myself, because the door flies open and Marek is storming out onto the porch. He's got on his shorts zipped but unbuttoned, and his hair is as bad as mine. My fingers spent a lot of time there last night.
"What in the fuck are you doing on my property?" Marek barks at Owen as he positions h
imself in front of my body, shielding me completely.
"Coming to get my property," Owen sneers back, but I don't even have time to be affronted.
Marek's right arm flies and his fist connects solidly with the right side of Owen's face. There's a splatting sort of sound when knuckles hit flesh and the force of the punch spins Owen toward the front door. Marek wastes no time, grabbing Owen by the back of the shirt and spinning him swiftly the opposite way. He gives a shove to Owen's shoulder blades and he goes flying off the porch. He misses the first step, manages to land a foot on the next one, but with arms windmilling he goes sailing face first into the small area of landscaping that borders the walkway. He takes out a small azalea bush and rolls over before popping up to his feet.
Owen's a fit guy with the build of a linebacker. He's got a little brawn on Marek, and I expect him to come charging back. Instead, he rubs his fingers gingerly over his jaw and gives a condescending smile to Marek.
"Guess I know whose property she is now," Owen taunts Marek before sliding his gaze to me. "It's clear you two are fucking."
My face flushes hot with embarrassment.
"Guess it's only fitting," Owen says, then swivels his jaw a bit. "I mean, I took your sloppy seconds, Marek. They're even sloppier now."
"You're going to pay for that," Marek snarls, and starts across the porch. Rage contorts his face until I can't even recognize him.
I lurch forward and put myself in his path. My hands go to his chest and I have to lean all of my weight forward to slow him down.
But I don't stop him. His hands come to my shoulders to push me out of the way.
"Marek, please don't," I murmur to him, sliding to stand directly in front of him again. He just looks right over my head at Owen standing in the yard, his eyes blazing with an unholy sheen of violence. "He's not worth it."
A few moments roll by, and Marek doesn't move. His eyes are locked on Owen and his jaw is clenched so tight I'm afraid his teeth might crack.
"Think of the season starting," I continue in a soft voice. "You don't want to get in trouble."
I get nothing from him, muscles still coiled taut and hatred in his eyes as he glares at Owen.
"Marek," I implore, but he won't look at me. "Think of Lilly. I don't want to have to explain to her why her daddy is in jail."