Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (45 page)

She paused in the middle of bending down to put her panties on. Her eyes widened and her tits rose beneath her heavy breaths. But like I knew she would, she followed my order. She held her panties and turned around, showing me her golden pussy.

“Drop them.”

The panties fell from her hand.

“Come lay down. On your back. Legs open wide. And you’d better be wet, baby. If you’re not I’m not going to be happy.”

Her heavy breaths followed her feet. Lust swirled around us both. I’d wanted this for too long. I loved being a father with all my heart, but right now I wanted to be a bad boy and do bad things to my angel, and listen to her moan as I did them.

She crawled to our bed and opened her legs, eyes on me. I rose and undid my belt, dropped my pants, but left my boxers on. If I kept my dick in his cage, then I could prolong this. If I let it loose, I’d be buried inside of her in seconds. Right now, I wanted a taste.

I dropped to my knees on the ground and grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. Her pussy hair glistened from her excitement. I could smell her want, this tangy intoxicating, musky odor. It made my mouth water.

“Dylan,” she gasped, hands twisted in the dark blue sheets. “Please.”

I clucked under my breath. “Don’t you dare come already. You wait for me. Once I’ve had my fill then you can. Understood?”

She laughed breathlessly and stirred, legs already shaking. “You’re not fair.”

“No coming,” I warned, before burying my tongue in her hairy wetness. I groaned so loudly my dark soul warmed. She tasted like perfection. I buried my tongue between her slick pussy and found her entrance, lapping at the juices coating my tongue. Beneath me she whimpered. I swallowed her, drank her, wanted her to be my good girl forever. “Forever?” I checked.

“We’re married,” she reminded me, throat husky. “Mmm, Dylan. Please.”

“Forever,” I growled, moving up to her hard throbbing clit. I took it into my mouth and sucked.

“Forever!” she gasped. “It’s only been you and it will only ever be you.”

As she lay on the bed, eyes closed, mouth agape, body tight from her orgasm, I took my cock and urged between her wetness. I sank inside of her with a gasp of my own, burying myself so deep inside of my wife, I could feel nothing else. I moved out of her slowly, and then thrusted inside once more, earning a senseless holler from her. As I pumped into her, her eyes opened, and the bad I put in them called to me.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her ankles. “Harder. Take me, Dylan. Make love to me.”

When my body eventually stilled, I lay on top of her, breath ragged, heart soaring—I was so fucking in love I couldn’t take it sometimes. This warmth settled over my body. I was beyond content. I was at home.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing her lips hard and deep.

“I love you too. Forever,” she promised.

Because I was hers.

She was mine.

And together we were finally whole.

***

Hillary

1 year later
…

“Dinner’s ready!”

Groans and squeals followed my announcement. I smiled into the pasta as I dipped it, trying to remember if I’d ever been this difficult as a child.

“What are you smiling at?” Lips caressed my shoulder and then arms slid around me, holding me close.

Every time Dylan held me, the feeling of protection that slid over me comforted my soul. “Last night,” I whispered, leaning into my husband’s embrace.

His lips brushed my ear, and his groin caressed my backside, the way it had last night. The reminder of him thrusting into me, so rough and claiming, made my body weak. I urged back, feeling the hard outline of his erection through my scrubs. I wanted to make love to him tonight, to drag out my weekend by feeling him stretch and fill me in the most delicious way.

“Thank you for that. I missed you.” He kissed over my pulse, sucking softly on my neck.

My heart squeezed. My shifts at the hospital were insane. Often I was asleep when he and the kids were awake. I missed him too. Missed his arms, his lips, and the feeling of our bodies meeting as we moaned our pleasure together. “I missed you too.”

“DJ!” Aubrey complained, and then a moment later the distinct sound of the piano being pummeled filled the air. “Dad!”

“I’ve got dinner if you take the mini me.” One more kiss on my temple and he unwrapped himself from around me, taking the spoon from my hand. “Did you leave out the mushrooms?”

I rolled my eyes at Aubrey’s refusal to eat them. “Yes.”

I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, spotting DJ pounding on the piano as Aubrey attempted to push him off.

“You’d better come here.” I grabbed my baby boy and held him, peppering his face with kisses as he wriggled. A few more months and I wouldn’t be able to hold him much longer. He’d be two soon.

“Yuck.” He wiped my kisses off, giggling when I added more.

“How was school?” I asked Aubrey as we made our way to the kitchen.

“I got two A’s today in social studies and science and Mrs. Harnet asked me if I’d tutor some of the kids.”

Aubrey’s intelligence made my heart warm. She was destined for bigger and better things, and her private school was one more step to get her there. “That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

She beamed. “Thanks, Mom. But it was easy. Acting is much harder.”

Aubrey chose to call me Mom and Whitney was and always would be Mommy. It’s how she chose to differentiate between us. I loved it every time she involved me in her world. “That’s because you have to let go when you’re acting. You have to be someone else. You’ll get it.”

She worriedly bit her bottom lip, appearing less sure of herself. Her being a perfectionist at such a young age sometimes worried me. Over the years I’d learned that it wasn’t about getting it perfect. It was about getting it right,
eventually
. But I’d been her once. A child just wanting to get it perfect, get the grades, please your parents without worrying about pleasing yourself.

“Maybe I should just focus on my piano classes?”

This was a tricky part of parenting. I didn’t want to make up her mind like my mother had done me, but I also didn’t want her to back out of something because she wasn’t automatically perfect at it. “Things take time. I know you’re talented, but it’s getting it wrong a few times, that makes getting it right so special. You’re spectacular at the piano, Aubrey. And when you’re on stage you’re amazing to watch. You pick the one you enjoy more.”

Her eyes filled with relief.

I set DJ down when we got to the kitchen and let him pick his own chair. The table was set thanks to Dylan. Aubrey and I joined him. As my kids slurped their macaroni and cheese and Dylan interacted with his children, a rush of warmth filled my heart. My table was full with four places and three people I loved sometimes more than words could portray. I met Dylan’s eyes from across the table and winked, wanting him so badly it hurt. That he had devoted his life to take care of his children was one more reason I loved him. He made it so I could follow my dream, took care of our kids while I worked crazy hours, and never complained once when I had to work on our anniversary.

“You’re both going to stay with Grandma Patty while we go visit Harley in the hospital,” Dylan said.

Aubrey grinned from ear to ear. “When do I get to meet Uncle Bach’s baby?”

“When they bring her home.”

My smile mirrored hers. Aubrey and I were so excited to meet this part of Bach we could hardly stand it. I was practically bouncing in my seat.

Dylan rolled his eyes at DJ. “Women.”

DJ shook his head like he agreed. “Tate stinks.”

My husband laughed and shook his head. “You and Tate are so getting married.”

“We are not!” DJ gagged at the mention of marrying the little neighbor girl. “She’s a booger face.”

“She has not ever had a booger on her face.” Aubrey scrunched her nose up and glared at her little brother. “Her brother is kind of cool, though.”

“No,” Dylan snapped, eyes dark. “He’s a punk who’d better stay away from my daughter.”

Beneath the table, I found his foot and interlocked our toes. Not all bad boys were bad. Some of them were just hurt beneath their bad choices. I knew. I’d married one who turned out to be one of the most amazing men I’d ever met. The best husband, father, and my safe zone.

Dylan got me through my darkest time and gave me a future that healed my pain. He was my rock, my strength, and the reason I had a full table with smiles and love. I thanked him every single day for the choices he gave me and the holes he healed.

I loved this man with all my heart.

The next morning, I waved goodbye to Mom and her boyfriend, Jason, as Dylan and I left to go to the hospital. Aubrey and DJ were swinging from the porch swing, Dylan and I already forgotten.

“What do you think about Jason?”

Dylan backed out of the driveway and got onto the road. “I didn’t know your mom could smile that big.”

“I know,” I agreed with a laugh. Jason, a US Army soldier-turned-painter, was a gentle tough soul who could withstand the likes of Patty Hayes. “I think they’re going to get married soon. I can feel it.”

“He wants to go fishing.”

“With you?” My surprise was evident.

His lips quirked. “Yes, baby. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, yeah. The only friend you hang out with is Bach.”

“He gets it, you know? He did two tours in Iraq.”

My heart hurt for my husband sometimes. He was a father, but his past as a soldier would never leave. His nightmares woke him up less often, but they still existed, and probably always would. I helped him when he woke up screaming, whispering how good he was in his ear, how strong of a man he was, and that he wasn’t evil for surviving, he was a loving husband and father. His children needed him. I needed him. Yes, he went to war, but he fought much better at home with me. “I think it would be good for you to have another friend.” I reached over and ran my fingers through his hair. “I love you, Dylan Meyer.”

He smiled at the road. “I love you too, Hillary Meyer. Thank you for being my wife. And,” he continued, still a bad boy under his fatherhood, “thank you for letting me play with your golden pussy last night.”

“You were so rough.” I’d grown used to his dirty talk because beneath my shock a part of me bathed in it.

“You loved it.”

“I did,” I agreed huskily, recalling how long my orgasm had lasted as he thrust into me. When Dylan was on top I felt surrounded by him; he was everywhere. I always had the best orgasms when my husband had them with me. “And so did you.”

“I love everything you and I do together. When we fight, when we kiss, folding laundry, picking cereal out of our hair, the sleepless nights, the giggles, the fact that you gave me a beautiful son, how you love Aubrey like she’s your own, that you let me in and gave me this life—I love you more than I can put into words sometimes, and I want to add so much more to that list with you. Thank you.”

“No,” I whispered, falling in love all over again. “Thank you.”

When we got to the hospital and made our way to their room, I gripped his hand and slowed my pace to match his. Six years later and his leg was still temperamental. Some days he could run, some days he could barely walk. I relished both because that’s what he needed. When we got to the room, I knocked.

Bach opened the door and grinned so wide at me I knew parts of my brother had been healed the way parts of me had healed when I gave birth to Dylan Junior.

“What’s up, Sweets? You’re an auntie.” He kissed my cheek and wrapped me in his arms.

“I can’t believe you’re a daddy now. How is she?”

“She’s perfect,” he whispered in my ear, and then rose, giving Dylan a huge hug.

As they talked, I stepped around them, eager to meet her. I wanted to meet the soul who healed my brother.

Harley was sitting up in bed, smiling at us. She looked beautiful, having just given birth last night.

“Where is she?” I asked.

She pointed to the bassinet beside the bed. I walked over and spotted her for the first time. She was so tiny and precious, without a strand of hair but these incredible golden brown eyelashes. My heart was pounding, and when she opened her eyes and met mine for the first time, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Her eyes were light brown.

Like Harley.

Like the love of Bach’s life.

“What’s her name?” They’d been keeping it a secret, refusing to tell anyone.

“Hayley,” Bach said, peering over my shoulder. “After my sister and my wife.” And then he scooped up his daughter and held her, staring into her eyes like he’d finally done something right. The love pouring off of him healed the destroyed parts just like DJ had healed the damaged parts in me.

Bach’s hands were steady around his daughter for the first time in years. They’d steadied on their own over the years, but around his daughter they were perfectly still. No shaking. No breaking. Because we were done doing that.

“She’s beautiful, bro,” Dylan grinned at his best friend and then went over and kissed Harley. Their friendship was something I knew Dylan treasured, and it warmed me every time they were together. “Congrats, nerd.”

She wiped her tears away. “Thank you, Dylan.”

“Hold her head,” Bach instructed, settling little Hayley down in my arms. I cradled my niece closely, eyes blurry from my tears. As I stared at her small delicate features, Harley gasped. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were on the television.

There was a reporter filming outside of a mansion as a man wearing a ball cap was being led away in handcuffs. I hadn’t seen that man in years, avoided any and all things that had to do with him. “Zane Eastwood, star quarterback of the beloved Texan NFL team, was indicted today on charges of attempted aggravated sexual assault. If prosecuted, he could spend twenty-five years in prison. Sources say he led the victim to his hotel room, drugged her with the date rape drug, Rohypnol, and held her against her will. The victim managed to escape after screaming for help. Witnesses tried to apprehend the suspect, but he fled and was later picked up in his Texas mansion this afternoon.”