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Because I'm six years older than you.
Because I can't offer you anything other than a life on the road and take you away from the man who dotes on you, when you obviously love him, too.
Because I'm nothing like what you need.
"Because I want to show your father respect," I lied through my teeth.
I wanted nothing more than to feel her beneath me, but the flipside of falling in love with her was that I cared too much to offer her a shitty existence on a trader’s route that often involved sleeping in the back of my truck on a freezing fucking night.
I couldn't do that to her, not if she wanted children, or a life, or a home.
I had none of that, and probably never would.
The realisation that I was headed along the same path as my father, who died at forty-seven–only twenty years away–from me hit me solid in the chest.
I kissed her again, a little deeper. This time I kept my movements slow. The frenzy of earlier sated me in ways I didn't know I needed, and kissing her until she stayed against me was the cherry on top.
I pressed my lips to hers once more. "Good night, Sienna."
I nodded to her, and gently pulled on her door, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, staring at me.
The door shut with the soft click. I weaved my way back through the darkened house, knowing from the soft snoring that came from a bedroom a few doors up that Brendan was already out. Heading back to the living area, I threw my legs over one of the two and a half seater worn leather sofa and rolled my jacket beneath my head as a pillow.
The house was silent. Outside, there were no sounds–as though wildlife deserted this place in the quiet hours. The house creaked once or twice, and the leather, too, when I shifted and rolled onto my back, bracing my hands behind my head.
I was halfway through a fantasy of Sienna riding me when she appeared like a spectre in a white, floor length night dress of thin cotton. I could see the dusky pink of her nipples through against the phantom appearance she created.
"Sienna," I growled lowly. "I said–"
“Stop,” she whispered.
I raised one sock covered foot and traced along her hip with it. “We’ve never talked about birth control.” Though it was probably already too late for that discussion.
“Since I was fifteen.” Her cheeks darkened, even in the shadows.
“And–”
She placed her hand over my lips gently and shook her head. As was her habit, no more words passed between us, and she slipped her hand from my lips to my chest, tugging at the buttons until my shirt hung either side of me. I strangled my jacket beneath my head in my fist, willing myself not to push her away.
When her hands drifted lower over my belt, she opened that, too, with the sort of confidence she had displayed on our firstnight together. She reached my zip, and I caught her fingers in mine, squeezing firmly.
I opened my mouth again, but she shook her head, adamant. Wild curls flew around her face and drifted across her shoulders, like little wraiths with a personality of their own. She pressed the heel of her palm against my cock and squeezed me hard through the denim.
I groaned through closed lips as she released me. I let her fish out of my jeans, rubbing me gently. She straddled me, pulling her nightgown up over her thighs, and reached between us, rubbing herself as I watched, her fingers disappearing into the shadows between her legs.
Moments later, her head flung back and she rode her fingers over for me, then dropped a wet hand to my cock, slathering me with her come and she sank down onto me. Her fingers depressed on my stomach when she pulled my shirt back, and she rocked over me, slow and deep.
I thickened, wanting to erupt already. My teeth grated, and I let my hands slide along her glorious thighs. Plump and soft and slim, in all the right ways, in all the right places to fit me perfectly, she rode me gently, this sort of love making slower, quiet like her. The way she looked at me, her lips parted, shredded my heart inside my chest.
Again, and again, she came, stifling her cries behind her fist. Her hair draped over her thighs. I fisted its length, pulling on the mass slightly as she rocked her body over me. She looked so damn beautiful above me, but I needed her closer.
Running my hands along her nightgown, I found her waist and slid out from beneath her, flipping us so she was on her stomach, her face buried in my jacket. Wild hair pulled around her shoulders in a beautiful mess as I hiked her dress to her waist and pushed my jeans down. Straddling her, I clench her legs together and push my cock between them, seeking her heat.
Her pussy swallowed me beautifully, already slick with the arousal of our lovemaking. I gripped her hips tightly, tucking my fingers into that soft little curve of her hip bones and drove myself forward. She mewled into my jacket, then raised her head, arching her neck.
I freed a hand to sweep along her back, pushing her hair to the side, so I could lick along her spine at her nape. Her tight pussy clenched at that, and she quivered, rocking with me. I wound my arms around her, breathing rasping moans into her neck as she came on me, clenching and pulsing, and I filled her with seed.
Then, still needing her close, I cuddled against her curves, my arms and legs wrapped around her, so there was no chance she could escape me this time. This time I fell asleep with the comfort of the girl I loved, but couldn't have properly, in my arms.
