Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) (30 page)

“You had this planned all along?” I should’ve known. I can’t stop the edges of my mouth from turning up in a subtle grin.

He turns to face me and cups my face in his hands. “You can run all you want, but in the end, you’re going to be walking with me. No matter where you go, or how far you get, you’re never going to be alone.” Prior to the stroke, I never could’ve envisioned Moby not standing by my side. Then I couldn’t see him ever coming back. Now, hearing his words confirms his commitment to me never waivered—my mind was just cloudy, and I couldn’t see it through the fog.

Kissing me sweetly on the lips, he swats at what remains of my ass. “I’ll always be your compass home.” He winks at me as he turns back into the room.

Standing like a daft cow, my mouth hangs open, and I finally gain the wherewithal to speak. “The compass.” I pull it out of my hoodie pocket, holding it up so he can see it. “This was from you?”

“It was my grandfather’s. He and my grandmother had the strongest marriage of anyone I’ve ever known. Before he died, he gave me that and told me he hoped someday I would find someone who would guide me through life, never lead me astray, and always point me home. My heart always takes me back to you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were my compass.” I’m captivated by the sincerity in his words and the adoring look on his face.

“Moby, I can’t take this.” I hold the beautiful piece out to him in my palm.

“You can and when you need me to lead, you can give it back. Either way, whoever has it, it belongs to us, as a couple. That was his point. If we stay together, hold firm as partners, we’ll never be alone, and never be lost.”

Turning down the bed, I ponder the wisdom of his grandfather, a man I never met who’d passed before my time. Moby held on to his words until he found me, words meant exclusively for the two of us long before anyone knew I existed. The sentiment is profound.

Pulling the covers up to my chin, Moby tugs them right back down.

“Think again, Piper. You know the rule.” With him gone and me always cold, I haven’t slept naked in quite some time.

I do as requested but only after turning off the lights. I’m not ready to hear a lecture on what I look like nude. He doesn’t object removing his in the dark alongside me before climbing back in the bed. Moby’s arm snakes over my waist, and tugs me into his warm body. His body is back to what it was when we met. Everything firm, but inviting. I’ve missed being his little spoon. I drift off thanking his grandfather for somehow keeping us together and helping us navigate our way home.

* * *

W
aking up
, still wrapped in Moby’s arms, his nose nestled near my ear, I stare out the same window that brought so much disdain yesterday, and wonder if it’s possible the world has righted itself and is back on the correct axis.

Twenty-four hours ago, the same sun shone through the same glass onto the same face, but its warmth did nothing other than start the repeat of another mundane, dismal day. Today it holds promise and wonder.

I observe the clouds move as the light becomes brighter, not wanting to wake my sleeping husband, and instead opt to just enjoy the dawning of a new day.

He begins to stir beside me, but I’m unable to tell if he’s still in the throws of sleep or going to attempt to join me in the wake of the morning. He answers my unasked question by nudging his hard member against my butt, just letting me know he’s there. His smile moves across my neck as he begins to scatter soft kisses over my skin.

As his hands begin to wander, I tense in the apprehension of his displeasure, knowing the angles of my body are no longer soft and supple like a woman’s should be.

“Relax, baby. I just want to feel you on me. I want to touch every inch of you.”

“It’s not going to feel the same.” I pout but the sentiment is very real.

“I don’t care. I need to connect with you. It’s been way too long.” He breathes the words into my ear. The unexpected warmth awakens a sensation I haven’t felt in months.

Rolling me onto my back, he positions himself over me, just like the first time we had sex. He said then he was claiming me and by the look in his eyes, he wants to make sure I still know whom I belong to.

Cocking his left leg up, he spreads me open, not to take me, but to make me anticipate it. I swallow hard. I haven’t been with a man in almost a year, and Moby takes some adjusting to. The apprehension makes me wet and slightly scared simultaneously.

“Put your hands above your head.” Every action this morning mimics the initial scene almost two years ago. Doing as he tells me, I intertwine my fingers with the rung in the headboard, lacing them tightly, knowing each time I move them from above my head will prolong getting what I really want.

Starting at my chin, he kisses what seems to be every possible inch of exposed skin, stopping to pay close attention to my nipples, sucking, nibbling, causing my back to arch as he plies my breasts with his hands. My eyes intently watch his every move, turning myself on. I’m engrossed in every flex of his muscles, the slip of his tongue, the way he peers up at me as he sucks vigorously on my peak just before he sinks his teeth in again.

He surveys my face as he continues his downward trail, past my belly button, adjusting his body to move to my right hip, his hand now taking the place of his leg, his other hand assuming the same position. My legs spread further, pushing my knees in opposite directions toward the mattress. The feel of his tongue caressing the inside of my thigh sends chills up my body, light whispy licks, teasing, titillating. Moving inward, he continues the dance with his mouth along the tendon connecting my leg to my most sacred space. Reaching the top of my mound, his warm tongue slides down my wanton slit.

“Oh, God…Moby, please,” I cry out; the room echoes my sentiments back to me.

Circling my clit, a barrage with his tongue, sucking the little nub, hearing me pant. “Please, what?” He stops just long enough to taunt me.

I could keep this going, literally reenacting every word spoken during our first sexual encounter but I know what it finally took to get him to enter me, and I’m not willing to wait any longer to have my husband buried inside me.

“I need your cock in me. Now.” My hands cling tightly to the headboard, knowing I need something to hold onto until he gives me the freedom to let them roam.

He laughs softly, I’m sure he knows I just skipped a major amount of foreplay. “You know what you want, huh?”

I nod my head, looking down between my breasts at him, my chest heaves in anticipation and desire. My legs spread like a wanton whore, I can smell my own desire, and I like it. I love the taste of me on him when he kisses me. He rewards me with his tainted mouth, easing two fingers deep in my core, mocking my need for him.

With his knees on either side of my ass, he strokes his shaft up my wet opening, providing natural lubrication. I watch as he takes his girth in his hand, pumping his erect penis, once, twice. “Moby…” I plead with him, drawing out his name.

Poising his head at my entrance, he dips down taking my lips with his, easing into my tight spot. Breaking the kiss to gasp at his size, he stills and allows me to adapt before sliding further in.

The position allows for the deepest penetration, but it also provides him with the most control. Once he nestles deep within, my hands stroke his back, gripping his ass, encouraging him at an erogenous pace. His body pressed against mine, connected from head to toe, I finally let go and just feel.

With each successive extraction and subsequent penetration, I’m acutely aware of every inch of him, what was taken from me is restored, my bond with my husband is reconstructed, my wounds are healed. The mounting orgasm is a revitalization of our relationship, a renewed strength, hurts repaired, our love rescued. Reaching this apex together is more than an erotic frenzy. It’s symbolic of the journey our hearts have taken to finally reach a glorious peak in tandem.

Continuing to climb, his ass clenches, plunging him deeper within before retreating, his hands tangle in my hair, the tightening in my core tells him I’m close. My nails dig into his back. He pumps hard and faster. I cry out in ecstasy as he fills me.

S
ix months ago
, I moved back home. I thought things would be simple. I figured once I was physically back where I needed to be, everything else would just fall back into place. It didn’t. It took work, lots of fucking work, and continues to take work daily.

Emotionally, Piper was in a far worse place than any of us realized. She had developed abandonment issues and separation anxiety, not just with me but everyone she’s close to. The great thing about working at a crisis center is the resources available to her. Just like Cam, Shelly has become her confidante. They meet a couple times a week, and together, we’re all working on putting our relationships back together. It’s a slow process and maybe one we’ll work on for the rest of our lives. I’m just thankful to have the chance to do it. Whenever I see Shelly, I wonder if she comprehends just how many times she’s really saved one of the Cooper boys’ asses.

Our journey through treatment is made a little more difficult in the last few weeks with the addition of a pregnancy, but in all honesty, it’s making Piper fight the eating issue harder than she did before. Determined to be healthy for the baby, she’s gained some weight and is continuing to do what she needs to. Obviously unplanned and the timing is not great, but her doctor assures us the baby can be healthy as long as Piper continues in a positive direction.

The thought of a little one roaming around scares the shit out of me. I worry about any medical issues I might be passing on to another generation. Then I envision a little version of Piper cuddled in my lap, or a small replica of myself in her arms and all the anxiety disappears. She asks me all the time if I want a boy or a girl. Of course, I tell her I just want a healthy baby, but the truth is I’m dying to paint the nursery walls pink. Never in my life did I think I’d want to do dresses and dolls but if she’s anything like Piper, she’ll have my heart the instant she’s in my arms.

We aren’t perfect—probably never will be—but we love each other, and we’ll make it through anything thrown at us because we want to. The desire is often more powerful than the ability. We’ve learned something a lot of couples never realize. Happiness isn’t about your house. It isn’t about what’s sitting in your bank account. It’s about knowing where you’re going at the end of the day, and who’s going to be there waiting for you.

No matter how dark our days get, we will make it through, guiding each other, and come out stronger on the other side. Piper is my direction, my compass.

E
ach book brings
a new set of challenges, but I struggled most with
Compass
due to the intense personal connection I have with the story. Without my ex-husband giving me the green light, Moby and Piper would not have been possible. Thank you JW for allowing me to share pieces of our story with the world. While we may not have gotten the traditional HEA, I will forever be grateful you came into my life and will cherish our friendship. If I learned nothing else in the years we were together, our story proved,
“God is still God. God is still good. To God be the glory!”

Leddy. Our friendship was born from heartache but I wouldn’t trade you for the world. You’re my whore. My person. Soon to be my neighbor—whoo hoo! I’ve trusted you in publishing this story…let’s hope I don’t regret it. Hahaha!

Jason—you’re my dream catcher. My Moe. Sid the Sloth. I love being your prin-CESS.

My deepest gratitude will always go to my daughter but more so with
Compass
than any other book. She was four when we faced this life-altering series of events and it changed her—it changed us all. Everything she knew was challenged as she glimpsed tragedy through innocent eyes. I’ve never seen a child with more strength, more compassion, or more love. On the days I didn’t think I could bear anymore—her smile was my deliverance, her laugh was my salvation, and her unconditional love was my determination. She may never know just how many times she’s saved me or how much she’s given me. No other blessing in life will ever compare to what God gave me in my Little Magoo.

And, a huge thanks goes out to my readers. Without your imagination my novels would just be words on a page—you give them life. Your support is priceless! xoxo