Tymber Dalton (48 page)
Her fingers stroked his jaw as she studied his eyes. “You do make me happy.”
He trailed kisses down her chin, along her throat, feathering his mouth and tongue along her sweet flesh until he reached her breasts. Her back arched, offering them to him, her fingers once again tangled in his hair.
He cupped one breast with his hand, using his thumb to rub her nipple and coax it into a taut peak. He engulfed her other with his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until she softly moaned.
“More. Please.”
Softly chuckling, he started working his way south again.
* * * *
Matt loved to tease her. Sam closed her eyes and inhaled, loving his warm, musky scent. When he finally settled between her legs and pushed her thighs apart with his hands, she let out a happy sigh.
“Yes!”
Then the feel of his tongue, sure and skilled, flicking against her clit. She shivered with pleasure and tried to wiggle even closer, wanting to feel his whole mouth against her. She felt her pussy clench with each stroke of his tongue, her juices flowing as he wrapped his hands around her thighs and settled in.
With her hands stroking his hair, she felt her need growing, swelling deep inside her as his lips and tongue relentlessly pulled her closer to release. He kept her just on the edge of release, knowing when to hold back to keep her from going over, teasing and tormenting her clit until she couldn’t take it any longer.
“Please! Make me come!”
He chuckled as he rose up on his arms and changed position so his already stiff cock tantalizingly pressed against her wet pussy. “You want it?”
“Yes!”
Her hands grabbed his shoulders as she tried for leverage to get him inside her, but he resisted. He kept his hips moving with her, refusing to let her impale herself on him.
“Matt, please!”
He leaned down and kissed her, long and deep. She tasted her juices on his lips. Then he settled on top of her, slowly sliding his cock inside her. She nearly cried with relief at the sensation of him filling her, owning her. She wrapped her arms around him, never wanting to let him go.
He rested his arms above her head, cocooning her with his body and slowly thrusting. Every stroke perfectly rubbed her swollen, aching clit. It didn’t take long for her to start moving with him as they kissed. Every stroke once again brought her closer to the edge. Together, their bodies flowed as one, back and forth, slowly picking up speed until she felt that unmistakable tipping over the edge to her orgasm.
Matt started moving faster. “That’s it, baby. Come for me.” He rested his head in the crook of her shoulder and tightened his grip on her as he fucked her harder, faster, working his way toward his own climax.
With her fingers digging into his back she cried out as another wave washed through her, making her sob with relief and love and pleasure and a mix of emotions she couldn’t begin to label. She felt his cock grow even harder inside her as his thrusts deepened, every bump against her clit sending renewed pleasure through her.
Then he let out a loud moan of his own as his last thrust, harder and deeper than the rest, sank home. His body stiffened while she wrapped her legs around his and held him tightly, refusing to let go.
She never wanted to let go of him again.
* * * *
It took Sam six months, but she read Steve’s unfinished manuscript. It was good, despite the odd asides George whispered to Steve that made it into the text.
She frequently cried while getting all the way through it. Even unfinished, Steve had made enough notes she thought she could complete it. She finished it shortly before the one-year anniversary of the incident, and Matt submitted it to Steve’s publisher, who agreed it was good and would publish it with both Steve’s and Sami’s name on the cover.
One year later
Sami sat on the front porch and stared across the pasture where the geldings grazed under a live oak. She loved this time of day, in the middle of the week, when the evening cool usurped the afternoon heat and there was even a chance to spot deer wandering through the property.
She also loved Matt for not mentioning the date. Neither looked at the local newspaper or watched TV that day, not wanting to be reminded of the events. They locked the main gate and ignored the few reporters who showed up. Eventually, as broadcast deadlines loomed, the reporters left without comments.
They turned off their phones and listened to music. The house felt peaceful ever since the incident. The blessings and remodeling removed all traces of George’s energy. They never felt uneasy in their home.
Golden shadows painted the woods in an ephemeral glow. A gentle breeze rustled the tops of the tall slash pines. Sometimes evening thunderstorms turned the yard to muck, dry again by the next morning, but not tonight. This day could not have been less like the day of the incident.
Sami started work on another book, one loosely based on those events. Matt stood aside and let her deal with things in her way. Tonight she came out here to her other sanctuary on the back porch to take a break.
Matt brought her a cup of herbal tea and sat on the swing with her, saying nothing. He’d asked her that morning if she still wanted to get married, and it was one of the things she reflected on with his comforting arm around her shoulders. She realized it wasn’t as important to her now. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
Still, she said yes.
George Simpson and the dark energy that supplied him, however, had left for good. He had a grip on Steve during life, but apparently in death, Steve held tightly to him, preventing his return. She’d stopped searching Matt’s eyes for any hints of a red glow, knowing only positive energies now claimed this house and her lover.
Even though Matt owned her heart, she thought of Steve every day. Tonight, on this nearly perfect night, she caressed her belly and wondered if the tingling she felt over the past few days was due to indigestion from Matt’s experiments cooking Thai food, or something else.
The next day, Sami walked to the cemetery, alone.
It would have been their eighth wedding anniversary.
She placed a lily on each grave—including George Simpson’s—the cairns, and the spot where Evelyn and the children were cremated. Holding the last lily, she knelt where they scattered Steve’s ashes the year before. She ran her finger along one of the petals and let her mind wander to earlier days before placing the flower on the small, square paving stone she’d laid to mark the spot. There was no name, no date. She didn’t want the morbidly curious disturbing him. He’d finally found peace—he deserved it.
She talked for several hours. She forgave him, released him. A gentle breeze caressed her. Sami closed her eyes and pictured Steve as she’d loved him, in the few months early in their marriage when she knew by his own words he was truly sober. She thought she heard her name whispered in the wind, and an oak leaf swirled through the air and came to rest in her lap.
Dusting herself off, she returned to the house, carrying the leaf and tucking it into the picture frame in her office holding Steve’s picture. It might have been coincidence, but she felt he’d released her, too.
Before she walked downstairs to talk with Matt, Sami reflected on what Julie said about the house’s survivors going on to do quite well.
They were married a week later in a small, private ceremony at the house. Perhaps the first joyful thing to ever happen there in its long, bloody history.
* * * *
The Indian girl and the Spaniards were neither seen nor heard again.
WWW.TYMBERDALTON.COM
Tymber Dalton lives in southwest Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”), son, and too many pets. She loves to hear from readers. Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for her newsletter to keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and releases. (Don’t forget to look up her writing alter egos Lesli Richardson, Tessa Monroe, and Macy Largo!)
www.tymberdalton.com
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Ménage Everlasting: A Triple Trouble Prequel:
Fire and Ice
Ménage Amour: Triple Trouble 1:
Trouble Comes in Threes
Ménage Amour: Triple Trouble 2:
Storm Warning
Ménage Amour: Triple Trouble 3:
Three Dog Night
For all other titles, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
For titles by Tymber Dalton writing as
Lesli Richardson
www.bookstrand.com/lesli-richardson
Tessa Monroe
www.bookstrand.com/tessa-monroe
Macy Largo
www.bookstrand.com/macy-largo
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com