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“Fuck!” I snarl it again, pounding into her, pushing the box spring to its limits. Her release unlocks mine.
My cock swells, lava surging in my balls, and then there’s that point-of-no-return release that brings heaven to earth.
It’s as good as a bastard like me is bound to get in this lifetime. Thick seed hurls up her in ropes, wrung from the depths of my balls by Red’s tight sucking cunt. Her pussy is my end.
It’s fire, divine and irresistible. It’s mine. It’s what I keep and what I crave, a steady addiction I’m afraid I’ll never be able to walk away from.
My vision stops spinning after a while and I’m able to see the clock. Almost eight. Time to take a break from getting my rocks off long enough to make breakfast.
I pull out reluctantly like I always do and flop down. My lungs are never happier than they are when they’re replenishing breath spent fucking this woman to Jupiter and back.
“It’s early. Okay weather. We could do something today?” Red smiles, leaning over, her lips already a fresh temptation and her fingers grazing my chest.
“There’s that river museum up the highway in Dubuque. Steamships and fish so big they could swallow Whiskey in a gulp.” I aim a dirty look outside the door. Right on cue, the cat is digging at the carpet, mewing for his morning breakfast.
“How exciting,” she says, rolling her eyes. But the softness in her gaze says sarcasm isn’t the only thing on her mind. “Since you’re finally asking me on a normal date, though…I’d be a fool to say no. Right?”
Shit.
Is that what this is? A goddamned date?
It doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. Not till I remember the kill I keep avoiding. The grin I didn’t know I was wearing vanishes.
“Right. Get your crap together while I wash up. I’ll wake honeybee. First we’ll have bacon and eggs, then we’ll get in my truck and make a day of it.”
I get up to move, but she’s still in bed, staring with her arms crossed. “Wow. That was easy. Too easy. What gives?”
I shrug. “Can’t a man treat his daughter and her nanny to a nice day out? Don’t look too hard between the lines, Red. You’ll hurt your pretty eyes.”
She laughs while I round her side of the bed, cup her cheek, and bury her in a long, ferocious kiss. It’s not just because my lips need hers, but because I need a distraction.
I almost fucked up when I said my daughter and her nanny. I almost called Red my woman.
Christ.
I’m becoming too soft. Too derelict in duties I should’ve carried out long ago.
And good goddamn, it’s increasingly harder to feel guilty every time Red wraps her little arms around my waist, and I pull her face to the nook of my neck.
While Mrs. Kelley’s found her artistic muse in me and Mia, I’ve found a different inspiration in this beautiful, headstrong woman.
A calling to be a better man. A kinder, freer beast. A need to be more than a pent up wad of hate, venom, and impending violence.
First light I’ve seen since Mia at the end of this hellish torture tunnel. That’s put my life in blackness ever since I left the war in pieces.
Can I let go of the kill? Find another way to make Jackson pay for his crimes?
I don’t fucking know. I’m not ready to make any hard decisions today.
The fact that I’m even considering it tells me something has changed.
Red isn’t just the best fuck of my life, or the fastest ticket to putting a smile on my little girl’s face.
She’s a second sun, shining brighter over everything, so sweet and hot and unexpected it burns.
If I give this more time and stretch out my arms, who the hell knows what might happen next?
Her warmth might thaw the black ice wrapped around my heart like a prison.
Her light may inspire a fresh insanity I never imagined, without the hurt, the obsession, the cancerous secrets.
Her kiss could be my second chance at becoming human again.
9
Cast Aside (Sadie)
“Daddy, daddy, what kinda fish is that?” Mia scrunches her face up against the glass aquarium, staring at what looks like a catfish the size of a small shark.
“Mississippi whale, I’m guessing. You ever hear how they ate Huck Finn?” Marshal lifts the little angel onto his shoulders, giving her a better view.
It’s the dozenth time today he’s smiling. God help him.
And help me. I nudge him gently in the side, leaning closer than I should as a glorified babysitter on a field trip. “Mark Twain never wrote about river whales. Sorry to disappoint, but I was going after an American lit minor once upon a time.”
“No steamboat Ahab? Ah, well. I never paid much attention to readin’ anyway. But you, honeybee, damn sure ought to outdo daddy.” He winks, then carries Mia off to the next exhibit, a huge alligator in a tank simulating the southern bayou.
