Page 35 of Hideaway Whirlwind (Big Boys of Berenson Trucking #4)

“Psycho bastards.” Elliott’s fingertips tighten on my flesh. “If they hadn’t blown their shithole compound to kingdom come, I’d bury them one by one in my backyard.”

“I believe you.” I really do.

“That doesn’t scare you?”

“Yes.” Of course, it scares me . Just as much as I scare myself sometimes, growing excited instead of afraid of his promise of vengeance and violence enacted on my behalf if any of the Zeraxists were still alive to punish.

Elliott drops his head back, eyes squeezed shut with regret.

I lean in real close and promise, “But I’d help you bury them, Daddy, and dance on their fucking graves.”

Elliott goes hard beneath me, pumping his hips up a fraction. “Damn, Birdie. You sure you should be saying that to me?”

I grab his face. “Yes.” I press my lips firmly to his. No more half-kisses or shying away. No more shields between us. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck, Mama.”

His guttural moan is the spark that ignites the flame within me, and I hum against his lips, rocking my hips along the bulge that grows larger under my ass.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Elliott grips my upper arms and holds me back. “The kids—”

“Are occupied. We’ll be quick.” I bite my lip, missing his length inside me, our naked bodies pressed together on top of his sheets with a view of the creek through the bedroom window, the drapes thrown open to let in the moonlight. I miss the cabin almost as much as I miss him .

“Yeah…yeah, ok, we’ll be quick,” Elliott agrees, pushing his hands between us to undo his belt and zipper, then helping me get my feet under me, boots flat on either side of his legs on the lounge chair.

It’s thrilling having him tug the collar of my sweater to the side and bite my neck to muffle the sounds of his pleasure when I hang onto the back of the chair with one hand while I shift my underwear to the side.

Finding his thick shaft, I stroke it until it’s wet with his precum and he’s begging me to sit on it, then wriggle my hips until his crown meets my entrance.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans into my skin, gripping my ass and helping me to bounce as I take him inside me, inch by slow inch, until I’m wet and have stretched to fit all of him. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Birdie.”

“Me, too. I didn’t want you to leave last night.” I arch my neck, rocking back and forth, switching up the angle as I tighten my pussy around him. “I wanted this.” More than this .

“Too soon, too soon,” he pants only a few minutes later, his legs going rigid beneath me. “Been needing you too much to last long.”

I lick his lips, growing wetter as I imagine his need for me, and purr, “I want you to cum inside me, Daddy.”

He stops me with his grip on my waist. “I’m not ready for it to be over yet.”

“We have to be quick,” I remind him, though I’m just as loath to leave him .

“But you’re not gonna cum like this.”

It’s true, no matter how good it feels. Since I don’t want to have to explain how I got grass stains on my skirt if Elliott were to take me from behind on the ground, I’m content with only feeling him inside me, hoping he’ll make up for it later tonight.

Before I can tell him any of that, Elliott lifts me straight up in the air and flips me around so that I’m facing his legs. He yanks me back down on his dick, my ass flush with his pelvis when he bottoms out within me.

“Oh, shit!” I yell, slapping a hand over my mouth a second too late.

Elliott lifts my skirt up to my lower back when I lean forward to brace my hands on his knees so I can bounce and grind on him again. “Fuck, fuck, Birdie. I love this ass,” he says, spreading my cheeks.

My face turns hot until I remember he can’t see much in the dark. I shoot up straight, though, when something wet touches my backside, and I clench my cheeks against it with a little squeal. “What was that?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Elliott groans. “Just my pinky.”

“Why was it wet?”

“Fuck, Birdie, you gotta stop clenching or I’m gonna cum.” I relax enough that he’s able to take a deep breath and confess, “I spit on it.”

“On what?”

“Christ, this is more embarrassing than that time I—ahh, stop clenching,” he whines.

I release my grip around him and slowly lower my shoulders back toward his knees. “Do it again,” I say, only working the top half of his dick, teasing him. “Now. ”

“Fuck me, Mama, anything you want.” This time, I’m more prepared for it when his wet finger rubs a circle around my backside. He doesn’t try to press the tip inside me, but just having him touch me where he’s not supposed to is hotter than I could have imagined.

Out in the open air, with only the soft noise of the nocturnal creatures singing in the background, every sound Elliott makes is magnified—our skin clapping together, his quickening breath as he grunts and flexes his muscles to keep from cumming, my gasps of ecstasy as I ride him faster, harder, panting that I’m close .

“I love you, I love you. Fuck, I can’t hold back,” he says with a whimper, his hot release filling me.

Even as I’m soaring on cloud nine with those first three little words, I experience a flash of disappointment that he came before I could and that it’s all over.

But then he yanks my upper half back against his chest and wraps a hand loosely around my throat.

Biting the crook of my shoulder, he shoves his other hand between my thighs to massage my clit.

“Tell me it’s real,” he growls, the words nearly indecipherable. “Tell me you choose me.”

“It’s…It’s…” I can’t speak, panting and moaning as I arch my back while my toes try to curl in my boots when I climax, my pussy pulsing around his dick and trying to take him deeper.

On and on, he plays with me, digging his teeth in deeper when I fist his hair to hold him in position. My hips writhe, and he gives chase, never once losing his spot.

“Tell me it’s real,” he begs. “Choose me, Birdie.”

It’s a sweet torture, one that pulls the words right out of me when he brings me to a second orgasm with just his fingers, and I scream, “It’s real, it’s real, it’s—” I break off with a cry, twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure as Elliott pushes his hand up further beneath my skirt to splay his palm across my belly.

“It’s real,” he says, no longer a question.

“Yes,” I croak through a dry throat, trying to swallow when I come back down to earth, finding a warm and hazy peace now that I’ve finally acknowledged the depths of my feelings toward him.

Accepted it, too, after fighting tooth and nail not to fall for him.

“I knew it was real the first time you asked me,” I tell him with total honesty, tired of lying to myself and him, as he once accused. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Because of your history.”

“Yeah,” I say with a long sigh, my heart rate evening out.

“I was scared of repeating the pattern. Still am,” I admit, wondering if I’ll ever be able to let go of the sick feeling that everyone I meet is wearing a mask that they’ll drop at some point in the future, revealing their true, horrible selves.

“I’m not them. I’ll never be like them. I’ll work every day to prove it so you’ll keep choosing me.”

“Oh, Elliott.” I tilt my head back against his shoulder, reaching up to scratch his scruff, hoping he’ll grow his gorgeous silver beard back out. “I know you’re nothing like them. Subconsciously, I chose you a long time ago…even if I never said it.” To myself, let alone him. I was too afraid.

Elliott nuzzles his face in my neck, his chest shaking as he takes a moment to work through his emotions.

I also know that I’ve been gone too long when the wind chill sets in.

I can only hope that no one will notice…

or put up a fuss when I convince Elliott to come inside with me.

I refuse to leave him out here by himself, like some kind of castaway.

If he doesn’t belong in there with his own friends and family, th en neither do I.

Elliott

I’d think I was hallucinating being with Birdie again—one of those dreams so vivid you almost can’t believe it’s not real when you wake up—if it weren’t for the heat of her in my arms, her calming weight on my lap, her feathery hair fluttering in my face as the wind picks up, scenting the air.

“I love you,” I whisper, dipping my head to place a gentle kiss against her upturned lips, lightly drawing my fingertips across the expanse of her lower belly. “All five of you.”

Birdie opens her mouth, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to say those three little words back to me, but a familiar bark sounds in the distance, pricking our ears, both of us turning to look out across the yard.

“Was that Storm?” she asks with longing.

I’m not the only one who misses Birdie and the kids.

Storm is always following her nose, searching our cabin for them.

The way she lowers her head and ears, sitting forlornly at the spare bedroom’s doorway when she can’t find them, just about does me in.

I’ve caught her and the puppies curled up in the corner of the spare bedroom more often than in their own room.

I hum a yes , my cock starting to harden again as my goddess squirms on my lap. It’s real. We’re real. She’s chosen me.

Birdie asks, “Is it safe for her to be outside by herself?”

I snort. “She knows how to take care of herself and doesn’t like staying inside for too long.

Likes to chase the birds and whatnot. But she’s a good girl and sticks close to the cabin.

” Now isn’t the time to mention she won’t be at the cabin for long, since I don’t want to kill the mood.

That will come soon enough when Birdie has to go back inside, where I’m not welcome.

I run the tip of my nose lightly across my claiming bite mark along her neck while we take a few more minutes to ourselves until eventually she starts to wriggle again.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” she says.