to my crown, pulling the cum from me. With a sharp burst of pleasure that starts at my spine, I come with her, filling her with streams of thick semen.
“Fuck, Carly. Yes.”
We ride the current together, drowning in the riptide of orgasm, and in Carly’s pleasure I find the joy and peace I see in my girls.
I let her legs down, setting them gently to the bed before collapsing on top of her, barely able to hold my weight off her. I smile down at her and her returning smile fills me.
The moment is shattered by a wailing cry and then our answering groans. “I’ve got her. You stay here.”
She snuggles back into the mess of blankets, purring like a happy cat. I get up, grabbing my boxers, but I pause to look back as she calls my name. “Kyle?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Bring her back with you,” she says. “Family hug time. Toss me a shirt.”
I grab one of the loose-fit tanks that let her nurse easily, throwing it toward her before I turn to get our daughter, my heart filled with warmth.
I can’t believe how deep I fell, how far I was willing to go after Anna’s death. But after everything I’ve done, the true miracle is how far I’ve come now. From the deepest, darkest, ugliest pit fueled only by revenge and fury to an oasis of beauty, love, and happiness. All thanks to my girls . . . all of them.
The End. Thank you for reading!
If you enjoyed Filthy Riches, want to see where they are in the future? Nathan is determined to be different than his father was . . . involved in his son’s life. Read the bonus short story free here.
Scorpio
Prologue
Madison
Love. From the dawn of time, it’s been with us, our silent companion weaving through the millennia.
It seems strange that such a simple word, four small letters, can play such a role in our lives, our past and our future.
Wars have started over it. Men and women have fought and died for it. We have holidays dedicated to it, and we spend billions of dollars when it blooms . . . and billions more when it dies.
There are some who say that love is fated, that forces beyond our control somehow whisper in our daily lives, guiding us this way and that like the wind propels a sailboat. We can steer against them sometimes, but if you fight the winds long enough, karmic laws of nature pretty much dictate that a hurricane’s going to come around and wreck you.
To avoid those storms, to avoid being pummeled against the rocks of life, you have to listen to the whispers and let them guide your future along its predestined path, smoothly, beautifully, and in its own time. They say that the winds of fate can be measured, that you’ll have clues before you meet that someone who’s supposed to be your soulmate. That somehow, some collection of the stars, planets, and maybe your own handprint can reveal your happily ever after.
Tell that to Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers? If that were true, maybe those twinkly lights could’ve foretold their futures a little more clearly and they could have avoided the whole deadly mix-up. That surely would’ve been a better happily ever after for those poor kids.
Nope. To me, horoscopes, fortunetelling, and predicting the future are baloney. I get it. Life is overwhelming, and it’s a comfort to believe there’s some magical plan or a greater power controlling things. To hope that even in our darkest days, there’s a reason, a lesson, a brighter destiny just around the corner . . . if we could just figure out how to take advantage of the winds of fate to get there.
But you want to know what reality is? Reality is the old saying that if you sow the wind, you reap the whirlwind. You can’t control it. You can’t predict it. You just hang on and try to ride it out. And when love jumps in your path, it might not be sweet and pleasant. It might attack and smack you in the face. And even in that moment of jaw-dropping shock, you know there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
Chapter 1
Madison
Daily Horoscope, September 19th
Libra - Saturn in retrograde means that caution is necessary. Trouble will find you, even when you’re not looking for it.
“You know what you need to break you out of your slump?” Tiffany chirps from the passenger seat of the beat-up Toyota Corolla