Falling For You (Love In All Seasons #2) - Frankie Love Page 0,55
of him touching her skin and thinking he was his, makes my blood boil. I will never let another man touch Justine. She is safe now, she is mine.
“Ryder,” she moans, her fingers gripping my biceps, holding on for dear life as I teach her new ideas about love. As I show her exactly what it means to be filled by a true mountain man, a real lover who knows how to properly fuck his woman.
“You like it hard, Shortbread?” I ask, her tits bouncing like they were made to do, my hands on her waist, holding her to me,
We come together, her back arched, her lips swollen, her pussy slick. My cock is stiff and throbbing as I fill her warm cunt with my seed. I watch as pure pleasure washes over her. I give her all of me, and I am rewarded with her love.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” I say, rolling her on top of me. “I want to lie like this forever.”
“Forever and ever,” she breathes.
Our hearts slow as we relish the moments after making love, and I run my hand over her smooth skin, memorizing her in my arms, knowing moments like this are what life is made for.
Later, we stand and I pull my coat around her, wishing I had something more to use to cover her up. She turns to go down the ladder, but I open the chest in the corner, opening the lock with the combination of numbers I memorized as a boy.
Inside, I reach for a small box and take out a tiny memento. It’s one I stashed there a few years back. I put it in my pocket, lock up the safe, and meet my woman down at the base of the tree.
“I need to call my parents,” she says after we’re both on solid ground. Hand in hand we walk back toward the house. “They’re going to want me to come home with them.”
I swallow, not wanting her to go anywhere. Unable to imagine life without her. Ideas—totally outlandish plans run through my head. But before I am able to put words to them, we hear people calling our names.
Mostly calling Justine’s name.
“Sweetie? Where are you?” a woman cries.
“It’s my mom,” Justine says, looking up at me. “Thank God, they are here. It feels like it’s been ages.”
She lets go of my hand, and I watch her zip up the coat tighter, then run up the hill toward her parents. I can’t help but notice just how fast she moves, how relieved she seems to be to have them here.
The plans I was just making seem foolish. Justine isn’t going to want what I have to offer. She can do and be anything she wants.
She turns to me. “Are you coming?”
I nod and run up after her.
Praying like hell we aren’t about to say goodbye right after we just exchanged ‘I love yous’.
At the driveway of the mansion, her parents wait with outstretched arms. The police cars are gone and no one is in sight. I’m praying Luther has been taken into custody.
Her parents pull her into their arms, kissing her cheeks, clearly relieved that their only child is okay. I stand back watching this happy reunion.
“Did they take Luther away?” I ask.
Justine’s father nods. “They were leaving when we got here. The grounds are empty except for the two of you, but the police didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“We were on a walk. I needed to calm down,” Justine tells them.
Her mom looks my way. “And who is this?”
Justine blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is Ryder. My, uh, friend.”
I cock a brow, wondering how we went from lovers to friends so damn fast.
Then again, everything between Justine and I has happened fast. Hyper-speed. Maybe she has flip-flopped just as fast. Maybe the words we shared in the tree house are meant to stay put.
“Friends?” her father says. “Well, pleased to meet you, Ryder. I’m Jim and this is my wife, Vicky.”
I nod, thinking that maybe there isn’t anything more to Justine and me than an accumulation of stolen moments. I look at her, trying to figure out what she wants.
Friends? Really?
When I look at her though, I realize Justine is just protecting herself. There is fear in her eyes.
I see a woman who seems unsure of me, of what I want. Of my intentions.
Fuck, I can’t let that be true. I need Justine to know exactly where I stand.