Marquita Valentine - Not Over You

She could make Rose acknowledge that she, Ivy’s biological mother, was who was best for her. She could make Gabriel see that she wasn’t who was best for him.

The art kit had been the final straw.

She could—her vision blurred. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I can do this,” she whispered fiercely.

Gabriel stretched and rolled over in bed, searching for his wife. “Wife,” he said with a smile, then his smile fell when his hand encountered nothing but cold sheets. Cold sheets meant she’d been up for hours, without waking him.

“Summer?” He rose from bed, rubbing his chest and yawning before he grabbed a pair old of pajama pants.

She didn’t answer, so he tried again. “Summer?”

The cold from the sheets seemed seep inside him from across the room when silence met him, but he tried not to let that bother him. Summer had always been an early riser. Striding to the back door, he opened it and went outside. Warm relief flooded him when he spotted her at the end of the pier, wrapped in a quilt.

Warm relief turned to hot desire when she dropped the quilt. He would never get used to the sight of her, all golden skin and soft curves.

The last time she had been in Holland Springs, her body had been almost as sharp as her words. Her body had felt bony and brittle. It had worried him so much that he’d made her get something to eat before taking her to Ivy, but now that she’d filled out again, her skin no longer looked stretched tight over muscle and bones.

Still, she wasn’t as strong as she would have him and everyone else believe. Like the graceful willow tree he had planted in his yard, if too much strain and pressure were applied, eventually she would break.

Summer turned slowly, the look on her face both heartbreaking and heart racing. He’d seen it often enough to know she was determined to prove she had control. It wasn’t a matter of controlling him; it was a matter of controlling her situation.

“Not again,” he muttered.

Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he went to her first. The grass was cold and dewy under his feet, but he didn’t care. All he could think and feel and see was her—standing there, waiting for him. He had to save her.

She thrust out her breasts, raised her arms over her head, and stretched. “Morning,” she said as he stopped a couple of feet away.

“Missed you this morning.”

“Did you?” She took a small step toward him before running a hand up his bare chest. “Want me to make it up to you?”

“If that’s what you think you should do.”

A flash of annoyance appeared in her eyes. Gracefully, she kneeled in front of him and pulled down his pants, freeing his erection. His vision sparked, a hot flash of white light, when she wrapped her mouth around the tip of him.

His hands went to her hair, burying his finger and wrapping the blond strands around them. “You don’t have to—”

“I delight in the taste of my lover,” she said, and then licked the length of him.

Don’t throw my words back at me , he silently begged. “Don’t,” he groaned, tugging on her hair. He wanted her to continue. He wanted to feel her mouth on him again, but not like this, not like she owed him.

She sucked him deep, and his eyes rolled. His hips moved, his hands pushing and pulling her head as he found a rhythm. Wet, hot pleasure washed over him.

He couldn’t think. He could barely speak—much less breathe.

The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and he went over the edge, groaning her name and hating himself as clarity returned. Shame washed over him as she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not at what she had done, but for the reason behind it. A reason he didn’t know, but he did know it couldn’t be because she loved him and wanted to give him pleasure.

“I don’t expect you to perform for me,” he said, adjusting his pants.

Her brown eye turned hard and cold, after days of warmth residing there, and he wanted to shout and curse at his own weak flesh. “What do you expect?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Then at least share why you decided to—”

“Give you a blow job?”

His jaw turned hard. “Why do you have to do this? Why do you take something that was amazing and special and make it sordid and—”

“Not sordid .” She rolled her eyes. “Yet another s-word I need to learn, like sinning.” She cupped her breasts. “Was it a sin when you sucked on these?”

“ Summer .”

Her hands left her breasts, to tiptoe down her flat stomach, and slide between her legs. “Was it sinful to touch me here, to lick me, and shove your dick inside of me?”

He grabbed her wrist. “Stop it, before you say something that you’ll regret.”

“I already regret what I said to you,” she shouted. “I regret marrying you, and the faster you regret marrying me the better.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Her lower lip trembled, and the hardness in her eyes glistened, like slick ice. “It just is.”

He wanted to argue with her some more. He wanted to explain all the reason why it was the best decision either of them had ever made when it came to their relationship.

“I won’t regret it. No matter how hard and far you push me away, I’ll keep coming back. No matter how silent you become, I’ll keep talking.” He shook his head. “I’ve let you lead this relationship for too long, and I’m done.”

Her eyes widened. “You are?”

“Hell, yes.” Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside, striding to the bedroom and placing her in the middle of the bed. He didn’t stop touching her, didn’t stop kissing her, until he was hard again, and she was begging for him to make love to her, begging him to let her come.

Finally, he thrust deep inside of her, groaning her name.

“Please, please,” she cried out, writhing beneath him, but he kept the roll of his hips steady. “Faster.”

“No.” He dipped his head, licking her nipple, and then giving the other some attention until they were hard, greedy little points. “Say it after me—divorce isn’t an option.”

She stopped moving long enough to give him an evil glare. “Divorce isn’t an option… it’s a necessity.”

Cursing under his breath, he pulled out of her and flipped her on her stomach, getting into position behind her. When she didn’t line up properly for him, he improvised and shoved a pillow under her hips, before giving her enticing little bottom a smack. She squealed and tried to get up, but he held her in place with one hand and smacked her there again.

Her legs widened, giving him an extremely nice view of her wet folds, all pink and waiting for him to fill her up again. Grabbing his cock, he eased it inside of her, pausing to give her time to adjust. “How’s that?”

“I won’t say it.” There was a little hitch in her voice.

Exhaling, he closed his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“Angel,” she said tentatively.

He didn’t want to answer her. All he wanted was for her to agree, and for them to make love like nothing was wrong between them. But he did anyway.

“I’m still here.” The snug feel of her made his eyes water. He couldn’t help it.

“Order me to tell you to move.”

His eyes flew open. “What?”

“Please,” she said. “I can’t…”

Their damnable pride. That’s what had brought them to this point, and yet, here she was, asking for his help. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want…” He slid the smallest of distances and she moaned. “ That . I want that.”