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Stepping closer, he held the rigid length of his cock in his hand, bent to her, and positioned it at the clenched entrance of her sex.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned as she arched to him, her legs locking around his hips. “Take me. Take all of me…”
He thrust inside her, working his cock inside the heat grip as he felt her flesh rippling around his organ rather than his fingers. The rush of her release heated the crest as her flesh tightened around him, causing his balls to draw up in his own impending release.
He wasn’t going to last long, he knew. Thrusting inside the snug grip of her pussy, he could feel his control slipping, feel his emotions bursting free of his heart.
She was his.
His heart. His soul.
He drove inside her, his back arching as he felt the peak of her orgasm tearing through her, and he gave her his release. Hard, ecstatic pulses of semen erupted, filling her, melding the two of them together as his arms went around her and he took her cries with his kiss.
He belonged. For the first time in his life, Jack knew he belonged. Right there in Poppy’s arms, always a part of her, just as she was always a part of him.
He was home.
EPILOGUE
“Charlie, wake up… It’s time to wake up now.
“Wake up, sweetheart…”
She heard her father’s voice, as gentle as always, but more imperative, more demanding.
She wasn’t ready to wake up. She was so tired. Possibly more tired than she could ever remember being in her life.
“Charlie. You will open your eyes now and you will do as you are told…”
She forced her eyes to try to lift, lashes fluttering, confused by the dim light, and then by the unfamiliar surroundings that met her gaze.
“You will do exactly as I tell you, Charlie. You must do this, or you will never wake again…”
As his voice echoed in her mind, she remembered.
He wasn’t really there. He was just a memory. It was all just a memory. She could go back to sleep.
“Charlie. You will wake!”
Her eyes struggled to open, unable to deny the pure command she heard in his tone.
Memories trickled through her consciousness. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the images playing out within her mind.
Father was gone. They had finally killed him. Just as they had killed Mother and her beloved Duncan. Just as they had killed her…
It had been her father who had brought her back.
But he had brought her back different.
She stared around the room. It was roughened wood. She could see sunlight through cracks in the walls. She was lying on the bare floor. She could feel the rough wood beneath her arm.
She sat up. Looking down at her arm, she could see her flesh healing, mending. Still too weak to fight further, she had perhaps another twenty-four hours before the damage was repaired.
The internal injuries were another one to three weeks from healing at her current levels of strength. The flesh was of primary importance. It had to mend first. Her secrets must be preserved.
She needed to find a power source. She would heal quickly then. Internal capacitors were barely functioning. Life signs were waning. Where she checked for a pulse, there would be none existent. Features needed to be altered, hair and eye colors needed to change. Until she found a power source, though, that wasn’t going to happen.
And she was so tired.
