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Her hands gripped his waist as he pulled almost all the way out, leaving the firm flared crest seated in her tight grip. Thrusting in once more, her wet heat encased him tightly, and he groaned loudly—the feeling overcoming him.
"Yes," she whispered, and her legs lifted and wrapped around his ass, her heels pressing him to go deeper.
"Jesus," he huffed. Pulling out slowly and thrusting back in just hard enough to make her fabulous tits move, he shifted between watching her breasts and watching her face. Green clashed with dark, and they held as he began pounding into her, their dance becoming fevered and energetic. Her legs tightened and relaxed over and over as she helped him push into her, her hips rising to meet each thrust. As hard as it seemed he'd come faster this time, just for the sake of the familiarity and her eagerness to bring him to spill into her. Just that thought alone made him harder. He could feel his semen spilling into her tight channel, and he pumped harder and faster, her noises growing with each thrust.
She did it again, called his name when her orgasm rolled over her, and he returned the favor. As his seed spilled inside, he whispered, "Megan."
As spots danced before his eyes and his heart hammered in his chest the only thought he had was, what now? Once he found Bobby Ray and Waylon, she'd be safe to go home. He couldn't leave this house, wouldn't. He'd left before thinking Tamra would realize he didn't care that much about it and sign the fucking divorce papers, but a piece of him was here. He was whole here. His stomach knotted. Soft, warm hands smoothed the skin on his back, caressing him, soothing him. With his head tucked into the crook of her neck, he kept his eyes closed for just a moment. Beeping sounded from his phone, and he groaned.
"I hate to say this, but Emmy's back."
Her hands stilled. "How do you know?"
"My phone just told me someone opened the gate. Dawson is working, so it has to be Emmy."
"Shit. Ford, you have to get off me, so I can run to my bathroom. Shit."
Despite the situation, he chuckled and begrudgingly rolled off. She quickly scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, a slight whoosh of air rushing from her lungs as her sore feet hit the floor. She bent to pick up her discarded clothing, and he leaned up to enjoy the view of her backside as she bent and scooped, her perfect flesh wiggling as she ran out of his bedroom door.
Heaving out a deep sigh he rolled out of bed, smoothed the covers on top, then donned his shirt and jeans once again. He walked from his bedroom just as Emmy entered from the garage door.
"Good afternoon."
"Hey. Guess what I found out?"
"I have no clue. You want coffee?"
She lifted her green cup and cocked her head to the side.
"Hi, Emmy." Megan strode from the bathroom, her hair retied on top of her head, loose curls bobbing about as she walked. Her skin was flushed, but her jeans clad legs looked sexy as hell as she walked on the balls of her feet toward the counter, her white bandages peeking from under her jeans. Her gaze fell on him and held as she sat across from him on a stool next to Emmy.
"You want something to drink, Meg?"
"Still some coffee left?"
He nodded and pulled a cup from the cupboard and poured steaming coffee into it. Reaching into the refrigerator, he pulled the creamer container out, poured a bit into her cup then slid it across the counter to her. She smiled at him, and his gut flipped. He winked at her then and hoped like hell he wasn't being a silly school boy and that he affected her close to as much as she affected him.
"Well, it seems you two are getting along just fine," Emmy quipped, and the redness that tinted Megan's cheeks was gorgeous.
"Yeah, we're getting along. Now tell us what you found out." He smiled at Megan again, and the smile she returned was breathtaking.
"Wow, you two. Holy moly." She pulled a file from the shoulder bag she'd hung on the back of the stool she sat on and slid it across the counter to Ford. "Is that Marcus?" She pointed to one of two men standing on a sidewalk carrying on a conversation. It looked like a surveillance photo. Grainy but easy to make out Marcus.
"Looks like him to me." Looking toward Megan, he asked, "What do you think?"
She leaned up to get a better look, then changed her mind and walked around the counter to stand next to him. Bowing her head down to study the picture, he couldn't help studying her. Her neck was slender and creamy, little curls at her nape begged for his fingers. Her shoulders were straight and proud, her posture proper without drooping shoulders. The blue T-shirt she wore tucked into her jeans, and he could see the perfect shape of her ass. Her bare feet added a touch of country girl and a whole lot of sexy.
"That's definitely him. I don't know who the other man is though."
"Ford does." His attention snapped back to his sister, the smirk on her face evident that she caught him thinking carnal thoughts.
"I do?" Looking over Megan's shoulder at the picture, he leaned in just a bit, so he was brushing against her. He smiled when he saw goose bumps form on her arm. He affected her, all right.
"I don't think I do, Emmy."
"Well, maybe this picture will help you." She slid another one across the counter to them, and he peered down at the same man with his arm around Tamra. They were walking into a store and again the photo was grainy but easy enough to recognize the faces.
"Is that Stephano?" He looked a bit closer, then shrugged his shoulders. Stephano had dark hair and dark eyes like him, but he had the olive skin of a man with Hispanic blood.
