Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (61 page)

My eyes opened, and in one slow long stroke, he slid all the way in.

“This…” he whispered. “I think I would’ve lost it then had I been able to have this with you that night.” He pulled out and pushed back in. “My dick would’ve blown up.”

I busted out laughing. He laughed, too. He pressed a kiss to my Third Eye, passing his passion, his adoration, his devotion, and his love into me.

He took his time, keeping his strokes steady and on the lazy side. He ground his pelvic bone into my clit, fanning it out, gradually building it up. Pressing in deeper, Phil pushed me higher, and higher into the most incredible orgasm I’d ever experienced. It rocked into my soul where it shattered me apart. A myriad of colors and shimmering sparks exploded in my mind and heart.

He rolled us, pulling me on top of him. Barely able to even comprehend where I was, boneless and weak with what I’d just endured, I braced my hands against his huge chest, pushing myself all the way down the thick length of him.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my head dropping back.

Grabbing my hips, Phil growled, “Ride me. I want it
hard.
Fuckin’ break me with it.”

That voice—my beloved, adored voice—burned through the haze in my brain, helping me find my bearings. Riding him, I kept a smooth, steady gait for a few beats, getting the feel of it.

“That’s it. Fuck, you feel so good,” he told me.

Sweeping my arms back, I grasped his thighs and leaned into it, squeezing him at an angle. Clamping down on him hard, I rotated my hips and pulsed my inner muscles around him.

“Oh, holy fuck!” he shouted, his fingers digging into my ass.

I’ll fucking break you. I’ll shatter you as you’ve shattered me, and the only way you’ll be put back together is if
I
allow it.

Bucking and writhing, Phil sobbed my name, and what a fucking power trip it was for me.

Phil fucking Deveraux is breaking beneath me.

Bowing off the bed, he unleashed the mother of all roars. His cock spasmed violently, pumping and straining until drained, and he collapsed back onto the mattress. He was breathing loudly and harshly with little moans on the exhales.

“You all right?” I asked, placing my hands over his heart.

He shook his head.

Shit, I might have really broken his ass.

Stretching forward, I lay on top of him, my ear pressed over his pounding heart. His arms came up and wrapped around me. As his heart returned to a normal rhythm, he stroked his fingers over my skin, threading them through my hair.

“I would have told you that night that I loved you,” he told me softly. “I would have stayed the whole damn night and woken up with you the next mornin’. I would have met your mom and grandma. I would have made you mine that night, and I would have told everyone we knew that I was yours.”

“You
did
make me yours that night,” I whispered. “From that night, I was forever your Baby Girl.”

“I wish I had known that,” he replied.

Phil

It wasn’t until just before dawn that we fell asleep—hardcore. My Baby Girl had drained the poison from my aching soul.

“Promise me, Baby Girl, no matter what, we always return to this moment,” I’d said as we were about to drift off to sleep. “We’ll come back to right here and realize that we’re meant for this. We never forget this. This is who we are.”

“I promise,” she had replied before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Stretching and rousing myself, I saw on the clock that it was almost ten in the morning. I needed to piss something fierce. Reaching my hand out, I found her spot empty. A twinge of irritation poked around in my chest at finding her place cold.

I can’t get mad at her for wakin’ up and doin’ what she has to do. I’m
here
, in
her
bed. It’s not like she snuck off or anythin’!

That was something I was gonna have to come to grips with—and soon. My Baby Girl wasn’t the type of person who did well on a leash, and I wouldn’t want her that way. It was just another thing I had to face, and over the course of last night, I’d discovered that I needed to face a lot before she would let us move forward. But at least I knew she truly felt the same for me as I did for her. She was right. She was just different from me.

She’s always fuckin’ right
,
I thought, feeling a bit grumpy for it.

After I pissed and cleaned up my poor chaffed dick, I threw on my shorts and headed downstairs.

I found Kenna doing yoga on the back porch. Shimmering with sweat, she sat in her fancy pose, her spine straight. I bet she had her eyes closed, and she was in some deep-ass brain waves.

“Mornin’,” I drawled from the doorway. “Want me to make us some coffee?”

“Good morning,” she replied, her voice all husky, making me think of sex.

She always makes me think of sex—all sorts of sex, all of it with her.

She stood up and rolled up the mat. “I can make some. I want espresso. Do you?”

“You have an espresso machine?” I asked.

She turned and stared at me, looking at everything but my face. I leaned against the doorframe, letting her get her fill, as I enjoyed the fact that she loved the sight of me as much as I loved looking at her fine ass.

“Yeah,” she breathed, turning pink.

Fuck, she’s cute.

“You all right?” I asked, unable to stop myself from smirking.

Glaring at me, she cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

“Am I gettin’ you all hot ’n’ bothered?”

“Maybe,” she snapped, blushing harder.

“You’re too cute. Come here,” I commanded.

She turned her frown upside down and bounded happily into my arms, wrapping hers around my waist.

“It’s really nice today,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“Well…” she replied, sounding unsure of herself.

“Well, what?”

“I was thinking—and I don’t want you to get all pissy, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied.
Fuck. What now?

“I was thinking maybe I could take Sheri out for a few hours. She’s been holed up, taking care of Jason. Maybe shopping or something? Get her away from the house.”

I took a deep breath, pushing my jealousy down. “That doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

She relaxed a little in my arms, sagging in relief that she wouldn’t have to fight me on this.

I hugged her tighter. “I’m trying, Baby Girl.”

“I can tell,” she replied, squeezing my waist.

“So, shoppin’, yeah?”

“Yeah, but it won’t be for long. I hate shopping.”

“Will you buy a skirt?” I asked, sounding a little too hopeful.

She’d told me she only owned a dirty-hippie skirt, and she rarely ever wore it. I was dying to see her in one.

“Oh, uh…hadn’t really thought—”

“Buy a skirt.”

“And when do I plan on wearing this thing? Are you actually going to take me on a date or something?”

I stiffened. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I’ve never taken you on a date.”

“No shit,” she retorted.

Pushing her back, I took her face in my hands, apologetically looking down into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Kenna. That’s…that’s messed up on my part.”

My Baby Girl shrugged. “It’s not important—”

“Sure it is. I haven’t…the things you’ve given me, I haven’t had to earn them. I haven’t taken you to dinner or done anything to show you that—”

“Phil, it’s really okay. I was only teasing you. I’m the type of chick who thinks if a guy takes me to a pool hall and buys me a beer, it’s a decent date.”

That pissed me off, having my Baby Girl thinking that was considered a fuckin’ date.

“You deserve better than pool and beer. And it ain’t like I’ve even given you
that
.”

Man, how fucked up was that?
I’d bitched about her wanting a few minutes for herself last night, and I’d never taken her out for a fuckin’ steak dinner.

“Buy a fancy skirt. I’m takin’ you out.”

“Tonight?”

“Sure.” My eyes went unfocused, and my face lost all expression. “Shit. I haven’t taken a chick on a date since…I don’t even remember.”

“You didn’t take Brigid out on dates?”

I was gonna punch Jones in the nuts for that—seriously.

Annoyed that she’d mentioned that name, I scowled at her. “No. Unlike you, I don’t consider bars and pool halls appropriate date places.”

She scowled back at me. “I guess
she
wore skirts.”

Now, I wanted to piss
her
off for her sass, so I smiled. “She did indeed—really short ones.”

“I don’t do
short
,” she snapped.

“Yeah, I figured as much, seeing how much you
do
me
. The fact that I can make out with you and not get a stiff neck is fuckin’ awesome.”

“You’re such a dork,” she said.

“Takes one to know one. Now, make me some fuckin’ coffee, woman.”

Her laughter shivered through me, brightening my whole damn day.

Kenna

“You want to take me shopping?” Sheri asked, surprised.

Phil had called her to come join us for some espresso.

“Well, no. I hate shopping, but apparently, I have to buy a skirt because Phil’s taking me on a date tonight. So, I thought maybe you’d like to come shopping with me.”

Phil was smiling like a jackass. “Go, Sher-Bear. X and I have Jace covered. You need to have some fun.”

“All right,” she replied, completely skeptical.

Kissing my Third Eye, Phil murmured, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” I replied, puckering up for a proper kiss.

Hopping in Gretchen, Sheri and I headed east into the great city of New Orleans.

“Where would you like to go?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I need some decent clothes.”

I couldn’t agree more. She was wearing her tiny shorts, a strappy red tank top that displayed her huge tits for all to see, and wedge sandals.

I hate wedge shoes!

“What sort of style are you looking for?” I asked.

“I really don’t know. I’ve sort of been wearing the same stuff for the last six years.” She took a deep breath and gave me a self-depreciating smile. “You don’t like the way I dress, do you?”

“It’s not for me to tell you how to dress, Sheri. I dress like a bit of a hobo myself. I go for comfort rather than style.”

I completely avoided giving her my opinion, not wanting her to feel
more
uncomfortable.

“But you look so cool! Are you saying you really don’t put an effort into looking the way you do?”

Busting out laughing, I replied, “Do I
look
like I put in an effort? When I look good, it’s because Lili made me do it.”

“You’ve got this sexy, laid-back style that is adorable. I wouldn’t mind dressing like you—or Lili or Alys either. You three look so cute.”

“Well, I need something a little more fancy, and you just need clothes that cover the goods.”

“I look like a skank, don’t I?”

“Honestly? I think you could be a knockout if you’d cover up more, but like I said, the way you dress is up to you. I’m not judging you for it, but others probably do. So…go with what you’re comfortable with.”

She sat quietly for a few minutes and then said, “I want to be taken seriously. I dressed like this when I was nineteen and looking to get laid. I kept dressing like this because I thought Jason liked it. But I want people to look at me and respect me.”