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over her. My hands look large against her hips, my cock violent inside of her, her tan tits peaked and beautiful.
“Give me.” Unable to make a coherent sentence, she reaches for me, and I give her what I know she wants.
Pulling her up to me, I sit with my back against the bed and her body flush against me. “Ride me, baby. Keep me inside. Circle them hips.”
She does as I say, but her body is still too weak. “I can’t. Help me.” She kisses my cheek, her hands gripping my shoulders, the small gesture slowing me down. We had rough; now we can be soft.
“Slow down and let me lead. Let me take control.” That’s the first time I can say that word and be confident with it.
Nodding, she lets me control our connection, but she drives us home with soft, womanly touches. Her lips meet mine, moving rhythmically, in sync and connected. Her taste is a thing I will never tire of or forget, because a man never forgets the taste of his mate.
And for a solid hour, we really connect in ways that we never have before. Lana finally surrenders herself to me completely.
I left the house early this morning to meet our bands for some early sessions, so I could close down and set up the studio for the engagement. Trey and I got lost in work, him to ensure that we finished in time to set up, and me because I’m a fucking mess and I needed a damn distraction.
It’s nearly 3:00 p.m., and Lana is set to be here by 6:00. I need to finish up recording the song I wrote for her and set up all the candles and flowers Shayla suggested. Hearts, flowers, and the whole fucking nine yards.
Shay walks in the door with bags of supplies, and I see her through the glass as I sing the last verse into the microphone. Trey is working the soundboard, giving Shayla a quick kiss as she smiles at me. I wink at her, and she gives me an excited, childlike wave, bouncing on the balls of her feet—such a Shayla thing to do.
Hanging my headphones around the extended neck of the microphone condenser, I leave the sound room. Shayla claps her hands excitedly when I enter.
“It’s the freakin’ day, bubba! Ahh!” she screams, lunging for me and wrapping her arms around my thick neck. I stumble back with an “Umph,” and smirk.
My body catches up, and I wrap my arm around her waist. “You’re a nut job. And what the fuck are you wearing?” I growl, deflecting.
“What do you mean?” She steps back and peers down at her outfit. The frayed shorts show ass, and her low-cut silk tank show enough cleavage it could catch fucking pennies. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she has one of those new choker things on her neck. I swear I don’t know when she grew into a woman.
“Don’t even bother. I already flipped my fucking shit,” Trey says, messing around with the track on our computer, his eyes staying focused there and not on Shay and me. But really, me and Lana were so wrapped up in us that I truly missed my little sister growing up. Sure, I was there when she became a mother and a wife, but was I truly there? Guess not.
“Will you two cavemen hush up? It’s trendy and cute, and I make it look fierce. Now stop putting this off! You’re getting engaged!”
“I know. Fuck, do I know.” I run my hand through my hair, making it a mess like I am inside.
“I can’t wait for her to get here. You’re gonna be a married-man-to-be.” She punches my shoulder and I barely feel it.
“Can we hear the song? I’m getting fucking anxious, guys.” I change the subject and take a seat next to Trey while Shayla sits on his lap. It’s a comfortable temperature in the room, yet it feels like I’m in the middle of the Mohave Desert on a summer’s day. The song starts playing, and I bite on my thumb nail, my elbows resting on my jittering knees.
Looking over to Shayla and Trey, I assess their reactions. Shayla is beaming, and I can’t tell if that’s her reaction, or if she’s just doing what she always does—smiling. Trey is bobbing his head, closing his eyes and feeling the music, the producer side of him the one in the room.
I recorded the song I wrote for Lana those months ago when we were last here, making blood-red, rip-roaring, passionate love. The song crescendos in the last few bars, and then slows down, melodically coming to an end.
“So?” I ask abruptly before anyone has time to react. Shayla wipes under her eyes, and I have no idea when she went from smiling to crying.
“Bubba, that’s beautiful. It’s totally you two.”
“It’s her. She’s my song. My beautiful lyric.”
“Oh, bud! She’s gonna love this.” She stands and rubs my shoulder.
“I hope so.” I keep my head down, and my eyes search the floor for a map or sign written out for me, a clear answer that she will fucking say yes. Lana and I may have shattered every damn wall that stood high in front of us, but what if it’s all too much too soon? These doubts could be due to the amount of times we went with repeating the same motion of two feet forward and three steps back.
“Hey, baby?” Shayla’s voice interrupts my spiraling into self-pity stupor.
“Yeah?” Trey responds, and I peer at Shayla in front of me.
“Give me and my brother a moment alone?” She glances over, and he gives a knowing nod. I stay sitting as our eyes follow Trey’s retreating form. When he leaves, Shayla has my full attention. “Talk to me.”
“About?”
