Page 164 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
Besides, it could take a month for the pill to completely leave my system. Maybe longer, as I’ve been taking it since I was fifteen.
“You can renew the prescription,” he says evenly.
His cock pulses inside me, and I shift my hips. Impatient as he always says I am.
“I won’t,” I say. “You’re going to be a great dad, whether it’s nine months from now or a year, or two years…”
He pulls out slowly, then slams into me. My whole body jolts with the force of it, and my eyes roll back.
“You say the hottest things, angel.”
I grin. “You do the hottest things, babe.”
He leans over me, angling his thrusts. I raise my hips to meet him, reveling, as always, in the feel of him. But this is more exciting. We’ve thrown a bit of the unknown back into our relationship.
He suddenly brings the vibrator back down to my clit, and I gasp. I rotate my wrists and grab the ties, needing to hold on to something. He fucks me with everything he has, and I climax without warning. I yell, ducking my face into my arm.
He unties me, still thrusting, and I bring my hands up to his face, pulling him to me. The kiss is rough, teeth and tongue and fire, and then he comes with a groan, freezing.
I wrap my arms around him, and he collapses down.
“It’s kind of more monumental, isn’t it?” I whisper.
I can feel his grin.
He says, “Yes. But we can’t talk about it or I’ll just get hard again.”
We stay like that for a minute, holding each other, then he hops up and offers his hands. I let him pull me up and into the shower, letting him wash away the day. It’s a routine of sorts. He returns from work and I get back from school, and we greet each other with our bodies.
But tonight, we have dinner plans.
It’s been eighteen months since Masters took me, and our world has done a one-eighty. We’re practically normal at this rate.
Margo and Caleb transferred to Boston a year ago, on the heels of their graduation from college. Caleb joined Suffolk Law School, and Margo’s been working at the Museum of Fine Arts. She took a brief maternity leave, and their little girl is just shy of a year old.
Anyway, they’re coming for dinner.
I hate to say I judged Margo at first, but I totally did. It irritated me that she took Riley from me… when in reality, some might say it was the other way around. Besides, I had to learn that I was still stuck in Amelie Page’s mindset.
She’s had an attitude adjustment, though, I heard.
The more time I spend with Margo—which seems to be growing increasingly frequent after their move to Boston—the more I like her. I can see why Riley was instantly pulled to her.
The buzzer downstairs goes off as I’m blow-drying my hair. Liam rings them up, and only a few minutes later, their voices float toward me.
I set down my brush and give myself a once-over. My hair is short now, back to blonde. I’ve been trying to figure myself out, deconstructing my trauma. Dr. Penn referred me to a specialist in Boston, and I’ve been working with her a bit more aggressively than any approach Dr. Penn took.
And… it might be working.
“Hi!” I come into the main room.
We set our dining table with our nicest plates, and Liam must’ve taken it upon himself to light the candles. There’s a lasagna in the oven that will hopefully feed us all, but I had a dream that the pasta sheets didn’t cook, and we crunched our way through an otherwise-silent meal.
“Where’s your little one?” I ask, glancing around.
Margo grins. “She’s going through a phase. I really didn’t want her screaming all night, so we got a babysitter. And we brought wine.” She raises a bottle.
“Perfect.” I take it from her.