Adriane Leigh - Light in Mourning

“Clearly you’ve got an issue, so why don’t you tell me who you think it was?”

“Kyle.” I ground the word out, hatred more than clear in my voice. She narrowed her eyes at me, but refused to answer. “Was it that fucking prick?”

Her head tipped to the side, wet ringlets falling over her shoulder, her chocolate eyes blazing with anger. “Yes.”

“What the fuck, Georgia?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what ? Why didn’t you tell me he’s the one that’s been blowing up your phone, who you were talking to this morning?”

“I said it was no one that mattered. That’s true.” An angry flush had settled high on her cheekbones. The same rosy shade that colored her breasts when she was aroused.

“I had a right to know he’s been calling you. And fucking texting.”

“How do you know he’s been texting? Did you look through my phone, Tristan?” She tipped her head to one side, trying to catch me in a lie.

“Yep. I was suspicious after all these unknown calls and turns out I had a right to be.”

“Of course you didn’t. I haven’t even talked to him before this morning.”

“Did more happen when you went back to DC? More you didn’t tell me?”

“You mean more than lunch and the introduction to his baby mama? No,” she spat. Georgia was fiery when she was angry, and she was also beautiful and sexy and hot as hell, and I could feel my anger evaporating, being replaced by something else, something stronger.

Lust.

The need to have her body. All of it. Because the thought had slammed into my brain, rattling me from the sense of comfort I’d felt, just because I'd put a ring on her finger didn't mean she wouldn't leave.

Looking at her now, standing across from me, it hit me like a ton of bricks that she could just as easily slip that ring off her finger and walk away from me. After all, she’d done it to Kyle.

I swallowed and tried to control the emotions boiling in me. I was pretty sure my advances wouldn’t be welcome at this moment when the rage was rolling off her—after I’d just accused her of lying and cheating.

“Uh uh. Oh no.” She backed away a few steps.

“What?” I pitched my head to the side.

“I know that look. I’m pissed at you, mister.”

“What look?” The slightest smile tugged at my lips.

“That look like you want to devour me.”

“How astute. That’s exactly what I want to do.” I took two long strides to her and wrapped a hand around her neck, crashing her lips to mine, owning her, tasting her, devouring her. Doing exactly what I’d been fighting the last few minutes. I tugged the top of her tank top down to reveal her bare breasts, plucked a budded pink nipple between my fingers as she twisted and moaned into my mouth. Her hands wrapped my hair and her hips pressed against my own. I bent her back over the kitchen table, her body lying out before me as my lips attached to that beautiful pink bud. I sucked and pulled and tugged, causing her to writhe with pleasure.

“I’m still mad at you,” she moaned as I thumbed her other nipple.

“Is that why your pussy is dripping wet?” I shifted the fabric of her panties aside and dragged two fingers up her wet and swollen lips. She arched and groaned before I thrust two fingers inside her. “This is mine,” I muttered before dragging my teeth across her hardened pink nipple. I kneaded her breast with one hand, pressing and palming, digging my fingers into her soft flesh. She panted and wiggled, thrusting her hips up into my hand, riding my fingers to her orgasm.

“This,” I hooked my fingers inside her and pulled against the swollen spot deep inside her body, “is just for me.” I tore the scrap of lace off her body and attached my lips to her throbbing clit. “Only I taste this. Only I’m inside this beautiful tight pussy. You only scream my name.” I sucked and dragged my fingers along her throbbing walls before she came undone all around my hand. The heat seeped out of her as she panted and moaned my name, one hand fisted in her hair, her lean body arched off the table, tits thrust high in the air.

Before giving her a chance to recover, I unbuckled my belt and popped the button on my jeans, pulling them down my thighs before I slammed my aching cock into her soft body. I pumped ruthlessly, taking her, pummeling my anger into every thrust.

“You own my fucking heart, Georgia, and I own this.” I smoothed one palm up the center of her stomach, between her breasts, my hand wrapped around her delicate neck, the pad of my thumb caressing her pulse point. “He had you once, and he fucked it up. I would never.” I thrust into her, circling my hips to hit her higher. “I would never fucking do to you what he did.” I dug my fingers into the creamy flesh of her thigh and hiked it around my waist. “Do you hear me?” I leaned over her body, my lips attaching to her neck, kissing and suckling. “I would never hurt you. And if you left . . .” My thrusts eased into a steady rhythm. My release burned low at my spine, my balls reaching an unbearable tingle. I was so fucking close to losing it, but it didn’t matter, because I’d already lost everything to her. She’d taken it, taken me completely. “If you left, it would shatter me. I wouldn’t survive it,” I murmured softly as my orgasm tore through my body, flooding my veins, from my legs straight out to my fingertips.

“I wouldn’t survive you, Georgia,” I murmured as I dropped her thigh from my waist and ran both of my fingers into her damp hair. I pulled her mouth to mine and caressed her with my lips, our tongues tangling together, dancing and caressing, smoothing and tasting.

“I love you, Tristan. And I would never . . .” she murmured before I cut her off with another desperate kiss. Her mouth took mine before she pulled away and finished, her lips dusting against my own. “I won’t leave you.”

I nodded and tucked my head into the crook of her shoulder. Her palms smoothed over my back, nails dragging against the cotton of my shirt and through to my skin. Every fucking moment, this girl awed me. My beautiful dark-haired beauty. And yet each time it happened, I was still shocked at the depths she owned me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

We lay curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over our still naked bodies.

“Mmm,” I murmured, my arm wrapped around her torso, holding her tight to me. My tongue darted out and tasted the flesh along her neck.

“Is that a yes?” She giggled.

“That’s an ‘I don’t care as long as my tongue is on your body.’”

“I like that one too,” she whispered. “But I want to tell you. I thought about telling you, but I just needed a minute to process . . .” She turned in my arms, her hand cupping my cheek.

I pouted at the loss of contact. “’Kay, go for it, sweetheart.”

“It was Kyle,” she started before I narrowed my eyes and groaned. I hated his fucking name rolling off her lips. “But . . .” She gave me a light tap on the cheek with a grin. “He just wanted to apologize, for everything, I guess. She’s having the baby soon.” When she said that, her eyes drifted off into space. I frowned; I knew she didn’t want his baby per se , but just the idea of him having a baby at all brought sadness to her eyes. At one time that was supposed to be her. I pushed that thought from my mind because if there was anyone’s baby she’d carry inside her body, it would be mine.

“He wanted to know how I was. If we were okay. If you treated me well.” She looked back at me, a soft smile lighting her full lips. I rolled my eyes. Too little too fucking late, buddy.

“What’d you tell him?”