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Calista

T he past four weeks have been a mixture of beautiful and challenging.

I’ve not heard from the Serrano’s since I blocked them. However, the daunting thought of them just showing up has had me turn the sensitivity up on the cameras. I told Ronan they wouldn’t come here, but because it’s been so quiet, I’ve started worrying.

That being said, I do feel safe with Ronan, and I know he’ll take care of me if they try anything. He got a gun, which is in a safe in my office—the guest bedroom.

Ken registered it to himself, since Ronan is a convicted felon. He said he would ‘plead the fifth’ if it was found by the police.

He’s funny, but not in that stand-up comic kind of way. His humor is dark, and sometimes I wish he wouldn’t say the things he does. Like when he makes comments about being locked up again, or dying. Asshole scares the fuck out of me when he talks like that.

I’ve got the lock code for the safe, but I’ve already told him I can’t fire a gun and don’t want to. He promised he’d always be here, so if anyone needed to fire it, he would do it to keep me safe.

Other than that, it’s been quiet, and we are learning each other. Him more than I. He’s trying to understand relationships . It’s cute, especially since he’s eleven years older, and I’m the one with all the knowledge.

As for the renovations, the kitchen is nearly complete. The appliances should be installed next week. We ran into a minor issue with the structural integrity beneath the old cabinets, along with some piping issues.

I’m actually excited about shopping for the kitchen goodies: silverware, plates, and all that stuff. I didn’t think Ronan would care, but his protectiveness is to the point where some might find it annoying—he flat-out demanded I take him. It makes me feel like a princess, and he’s my bodyguard.

Though, he definitely does not treat me like royalty, which is fine.

That being said, even with all his ‘so called’ problems, he has two of the most amazing traits that most men struggle with without having been in prison: communication and patience.

I'm happy with who he is with me. When things get slightly heated between us, we fuck it out like wild animals. That’s our form of stitches. After he’s filled me with his cum and I’ve become a sloppy mess, we both find our peace and talk about whatever happened.

That isn’t the case right now, and sex isn’t only for us to resolve our problems. I love fucking this man, but more than that, sucking his dick.

I’m currently hilt deep, choking on him in the kitchen, drool and pre-cum dripping down my chin and neck. It isn’t just the way he tastes to me, but how he reacts that has my pussy dripping down my bare thighs. He moans and groans like a man obsessed. I’ve even had him begging me, which I now understand his love for it.

“That’s it, fuuuck, baby girl.” He grips my head and tears me back, just for me to suck in a breath before bringing me right back. The head of his cock beats against the back of my throat, and I whimper at how intense he is.

He’s brutal because he knows I can take it and want it. I want to be left bruised and sore because of him. I’m happy that over the course of our time together, he has learned how to take care of me afterward. Taking me to shower, icepacks on my stomach, tea for my throat—it’s all a fever dream. For a man that doesn’t do romance, he sure as shit wants to learn.

I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love.

As I grip tightly on a rag for support not to grab onto him , he thrusts his hips back and forth. He enjoys making a mess of everything we do, and I never want to be clean again if it means this forever.

He tips my head back, my eyes lifting to see him staring down at me. The approval in his gaze makes my pussy beg to be filled next.

“Fuck, Cal—”

“Calista?!”

My heart physically stops at the voice that screams my name. When I try to pull away, Ronan keeps my head still. I’ve learned to relax my tongue and throat, but I swallow which has me gagging.

“Ah, fuck that’s it.”

“Ronan, what the fuck?!” Eamon shouts.

Oh… fuck my life!

“Forty-five more seconds, Brother, leave if you can’t handle it.”

My chest heaves, and I swear I could throw up if it weren’t for my entire throat being stuffed. Heat floods to my ears and I can’t hear anything other than my own pulse.

I’m counting down, wanting this dominance but nauseous thinking that my stepdad is just standing there watching his brother face-fuck his stepdaughter.

With a sudden tear back of my head, Ronan grabs his cock and pumps. “Open, tongue out like my good slut.”

I do as commanded, panting and physically shaking, just as he comes. I’m going to guess he enjoyed himself because his release is long , and it shoots into my open mouth and across my face.

When I sit back after he lets me go, I quickly look over at the entrance. Eamon isn’t standing there, and as I’m readying to get up, Ronan grabs my chin and directs my gaze back up to him. “My god, you are so perfect covered in my cum.”

“R-Ronan… your brother—”

“Can go fuck himself. I’ll take care of him.” His gaze is admiring, and no amount of worry licks across his expression. “You are so perfect, baby girl.”

“He’s going to tell my mom.”

He rolls his eyes, seemingly frustrated at me. “And?” He drags his fingers across my face, gathering his cum and then slipping them into my mouth. “I don’t give a fuck who knows you’re mine.”

I’m such a slut because no matter that I’m mortified at being walked in on by Eamon, I close my lips around his fingers and suck them clean. It has him moaning and pumping them in and out like it’s his cock. “I’m going to reward you when he leaves.”

As he removes them from my mouth, he tucks his still hard cock back into his pants, and steps away from me.

I turn to watch him open the front door and exit the cabin.

Holy shit, this can’t be good.

Don’t be a nosey bitch, Cal…

Who the fuck am I kidding?

I get to my feet—albeit wobbly—and use the cloth in my hands to wipe away whatever cum was left on my face. Rushing through the garage, I put on Ronan’s slippers and make my way as quietly as possible around to the front of the house.

Eamon is already screaming, but I don’t hear Ronan yet.

“Of all the fucking women in the world, you’d go after my stepdaughter?!” As I approach the corner of the house, I squeeze in as tight as possible to it and look around to find them.

The two of them are standing in front of my car, Eamon has his chest puffed out while Ronan is slouched to one side, arms crossed at his sternum. It’s hot how calm he is, and how unapologetic he seems. Me? My heart is threatening violence.

“Why, Ronan? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Many a things, but me fucking Cal isn’t one of them.” As Eamon steps toward him like he’s about to throw a punch, my feet dig into the gravel. I know Ronan can handle himself, but I can’t stand the thought of him getting hit. I’m torn between running to stop them from fighting or running away so I don’t have to witness it. I’m not sure which yet.

“You are doing this to get back at me, aren’t you?”

“And if I was?” I slowly put my hand over my mouth, afraid that the whimper will be too loud. My stomach churns, and I think my knees shake.

“You’d be no better than the people that made you into what you are,” Eamon says with a growl. “Seriously? You would—”

“No, Brother , I’m not using Cal.”

Tears fall from my eyes, and I squeeze my face harder in my hand. My heart feels like it’s ready to shatter. Why would I even think that?

“Contrary to what you feel, I don’t blame you for what happened to me. I do, however, blame you for abandoning me, but I’d never use her. So get that fucking thought process out of your head.”

“Then why are you fu—”

“I’m going to stop you, because this misguided anger at me is quite funny for someone that really doesn’t care too much about that girl in there.”

“Excuse me?!” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Eamon as mad as he is. He was always good to me, and I’ve never had any problems with him, so this feels wrong for Ronan to be hitting so low under the belt. “Where do you get off?!”

“You didn’t even text her on her birthday two weeks ago.” I swallow hard, and it feels like nails are scraping all the way down until they hit my stomach. “Matter of fact, you did, but two days late. You haven’t so much as called her to see how she is doing. Didn’t she lose her house a couple months ago?”

It's now Ronan who’s angry.

“You haven’t even known where she has been living , Eamon. Don’t give me this fatherly fucking bullshit. Let me guess, because this all feels so goddamn familiar. You finally had a conversation with your wife, she made a comment about the cabin, maybe even slipped up saying that Cal was staying here.”

I should leave. I know I shouldn’t be hearing this, but my body stays rooted in place. It’s as if vines are growing from me, seeping into the soil, binding me here, never to let go.

“You, being the coward you are, didn’t say anything and instead rushed over here. Because there could be no way that it’s possible for you to not know Cal and I were staying at the same house. However, if that were to be how it was, you didn’t want to out yourself to your wife that you knew your convicted brother was staying in the same cabin her daughter was.

“And, Eamon, I know exactly why you aren’t telling her. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree now does it?”

“You shut your fucking mouth, you know nothing. I did tell Jasmine—”

I actually may be sick.

I have to leave.

Somehow, I find the strength to tear my feet from their place, and I run back to the garage, not giving a shit that I’m loud. This is so beyond my mom knowing I’m here with him. If she does know, this just got so much more dangerous for Ronan.