AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nod, knowing what he’s asking. The man gets off on seeing me lose control, and I’m close again. Reaching between us, I rub my clit, letting the ecstasy it brings take me over the edge.
“Yes, baby,” Sam chokes out. “F-fuck. Get there.”
I do, calling his name as my walls clench around his massive cock, feeling him pump me full. He slams against me until he’s spilled every drop, his fingers clutching into my hips so hard I might bruise.
Before he collapses, his arms wrap around me once more, tight enough to steal my breath. His muscles contract against my skin, and we lay like that for minutes, enjoying the moment.
Sam turns his face to mine, and I trace my fingers along his jaw. There are more lines around his eyes, and a few scatter across his forehead. His hair is lighter from the sun and a few grays, but he’s always that man I found all those years ago, that day we made a decision to expand our family even though we didn’t know it yet.
“We’ll be late,” I say, noticing the light leave our window. “And everyone wants that soup.”
Sam groans and slides away from me. “I think that’s what Luke came by to get. I’ll rinse off, and then help you.” He offers me a hand. “Keep me company?”
I smile and take it, joining him in the tub.
Chapter Thirty
The Message
Luke smirks at me when we walk into the dining hall, and I stick my tongue out at him. I’d flick him off, but I’m holding stacks of bread for the soup with both arms. Sam sets the boiling pot down, and I let the loaves tumble across the table. He has every right to tease me, and I shake my head, laughing at the memory of his face when he walked into our house.
“Let me help you with that.” Cecilia catches some of the bread before it cascades off the table.
I don’t stiffen anymore when I see her. When the Galene first arrived after the fall of the Underground, I expected her arrival for months. BeLew saw two ships sitting out in the water, and I had dreams of Cecilia around a firepit shortly after we’d built it.
It gave me time to ready myself for her presence, but after all we’d been through, I didn’t have the energy for a feud with her. Years later, I found I didn’t need to waste my worries on Cecilia, and I know she feels the same way.
“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. She’s helpful when needed, even though our paths don’t cross all too often.
The first year was hard, and time didn’t heal everything, but it’s better. Gemma acts as a confidant for Cecilia, always guiding her down the right path.
Cecilia built a life here, learning who she wanted to be and how she could contribute to the community. She found someone to love, and although we opted not to attend her wedding a few years ago, Sam is friends with her husband, and that’s made our relationship easier.
She’s a different person now. We all are in some respects.
She waves her goodbye when things are set up, and Beau steps over, giving her a touch on the shoulder as she passes.
“So, what did it say?” I ask.
He grins and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” I scoff.
Beau laughs and shakes his head. “Language, Mama.”
I motion for him to help me in the kitchen, where I find Lori stacking clean dishes on a tray. I enjoy our weekly community dinners, even though they are a massive amount of work. Everyone chips in, but it still feels like chaos, and I’m exhausted when it’s over.
“What was on the note?” Lori asks when she sees us.
“He says he doesn’t know,” I call back to her, taking a tray and backing out of the room.
“Bullshit,” she yells over the crowd. A few people give her a look, but no one corrects Lori or talks down to her. That’s true of everyone they deem a liberator, myself included. We helped them find a home and freedom, and to many, that makes us untouchable.
It’s hard to raise kids in that kind of environment, but I was sure not to let them become arrogant jerks. We do more than our part, picking jobs we’re good at no matter how difficult they are, and volunteering to host events like this. These people who believe I liberated them have no idea how much guilt I feel for putting them in danger, but I’ve learned to move past it and focus on our future. I can make a better world for them every day with small things like this meal.
“It’s true,” Beau insists. He takes another cart, and it squeaks on our way into the dining hall. Food is piling up on the table and eager children run around the seats, excited for the feast.
“Mama. It’s not for me.” My heart still melts that my adult son still calls me mama with the same drawl as my sister.
