Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection Page 8

  The sensation is very different from the full beard and yet it’s Chester who gives me every single feeling he creates inside of me. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, what it comes down to is what you feel, deep down in your heart. For us it’s clear. We belong together, now and always.

  The sound of a zipper drains away some of the euphoria and spikes desire and lust for what’s to come. Chester doesn’t take the time to remove his pants, he just uses the space the zipper allows him to unleash his dick.

  Lining it up while his eyes find mine, he throws his hips forward and fills me up in one stroke. My nails dig into his biceps, gripping him to urge him on. The slight sting of being so very full eases away as he starts to tunnel in and out of me. Like he’s on a mission to obtain the very thing he needs to breathe. Me, us, connected.

  His arm snakes around my waist, gripping me tightly to keep me in place, allowing for him to add more power to his strokes. Groaning, I place my forehead on his shoulder, I can’t…it’s too strong, too intense…his balls slapping my ass when he changes his pace.

  His hips create a friction where my clit gets the attention it needs to flip me over and light up tingles that spike the mother of all orgasms.

  “Fuuuuuuugggkkkmmmm ahhhhh.” Chester bellows while he stills on top of me.

  Pulsing, feeling his cum shooting deep inside, this is where I belong. In his arms, the way he always puts me first, loving, caring, yet dominates and taking action.

  “Love.” He pants. “You.” Pant. “Mine.” Pant.

  Sighing in content, I also gasp for my next breath while I squeeze out my words in one go. “Love you too. I’m still mad at you, though.”

  That makes him pull back to merge our gaze. “I thought you’d clearly enjoyed this version of facial hair. Miss out on extracting an orgasm from my beard? Or do you need a repeat to prove this one works just fine too, Peaches?”

  “You’re mine and you didn’t ask permission to do that.” I tell him with a firm voice.

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Is that right? I guess that means you shouldn’t let me run around without supervision, huh?”

  “Never again.” I vow and pull him down on my lips to kiss him.

  12

  CHESTER

  It’s been three whole blissful weeks since I drove off to get my girls. That’s right, get my girls. Because Serenity decided that she wanted to give Amelia all the space she could get. To enjoy the gators she loved, nature, the swamp, a huge house, and yes…a dog.

  When we drove back to my place, we visited a dog shelter and adopted a two-year-old beagle. Amelia picked him when she had barely taken one step inside. There he was, staring at her and when she placed her palm against the bars, he started to lick away.

  Now I’m enjoying watching them run around the garden. Those two are inseparable. Serenity has been working off and on for her brother. Although Oliver wouldn’t voice his problems, he can’t deny them any longer either.

  “I really need to find a way for him to hire someone. Not only a new secretary, because I can only do so much from a distance, but also a person who knows how to make our company bloom again. Can we find a person like that? Oh, and maybe someone sweet and sexy who can also drag him out of the office from time to time to have crazy sex.”

  That’s my future wife…yes, I asked her to be mine legally after I discussed it with Amelia first. They both agreed so that’s something we plan to do two months from now.

  “You are aware that he doesn’t need to leave the office to have crazy sex, right? Didn’t I show you that in your office a while back?” I question.

  Serenity squeezes her legs together. Thought so. That’s all the reminder she needs.

  Shaking my head to clear my sexual thoughts, I ask, “Why won’t he hire someone?”

  “Because there is barely enough money to hire one, that’s not enough to get the best we need for the job to put the company back on track.” She shakes her head in defeat.

  Rubbing my chin, I think things over. Serenity watches the movement. My beard has been growing out and she’s not allowing me to trim it.

  “Stop watching me like that. Amelia is over there and I can’t bury myself deep right now.” I growl in frustration.

  A sly smile spreads her face when her gaze switches from the yard back to me. “You can. Hallie Mae just walked up.”

  “That’s it.” I swoop Serenity into my arms and place my mouth next to her ear. “First we’re going to ask Hallie Mae to watch Amelia for an hour, then…we’re going to ask her to watch your brother.”

  “Watch my brother?”

  I nip her earlobe. “Yes, Hallie Mae has an impressive reputation when it comes to dragging companies out of financial problems and work them up to healthy, blooming businesses.”

  “But, that’s absolutely perfect.” Serenity groans when my hands slide to her ass, kneading it with my fingers. “Make her watch…Amelia.”

  “Just Amelia, huh?” I rock my pelvis against hers, letting her feel how much I need her.

  “That’s a nice start.” Serenity moans.

  Tearing myself away, I grab her hand and raise my voice. “Hallie Mae,” She looks up when she hears her name and gives me a finger wave.

  “I’m gonna need a favor, or two…” I state.

  In confirmation, I get two thumbs up from my sister.

  That’s enough for me to speed walk inside the house, loving the way family comes first. Or Serenity for that matter, within the next few minutes.

  About the Author

  Esther E. Schmidt, international bestselling author of 6 MC series, a Mafia Romance series, a PNR series, a contemporary romance series, and more. She's a graphic designer that also loves to write. She released her first series "Areion Fury MC" in October 2015. Esther lives in The Netherlands with her family, three daughters, and a crazy iguana. She loves to write about bad boy Alphas with a heart for only one woman. To make it a bit interesting, that woman needs to be a badass herself.

  Check out my website, subscribe to my newsletter, or join my reader group for more!

  RIDDICK

  A Saint or Sinner Novel

  KATHY COOPMANS

  PROLOGUE

  “Do you believe in heaven on earth, Riddick?” My mom wheezes out on her deathbed. She’s been sick for a long time, and now she’s dying and I can’t do anything to help her. They gave her these pills and stuck a needle in her arm to try and make her better, which didn’t work. It made her hair fall out and turned her face a weird color; she looked like someone punched her in the face. I hated every minute of it. Especially when she would come home with bruises on her arms bigger than the ones I get when I fall off my bike or wrestle on the ground with one of my friends. She said they didn’t hurt. However, I know they do. She just doesn’t want me to be sad or to cry. What’s really sad is I worry about her, all the time.

  And now she’s lying in her bed looking worse than ever before. Every time I hug her, she bruises, my fingerprints leaving the ugliest shade of blackish purple on her arms or shoulders. My dad finally told me to quit touching her. He didn’t say it to be mean, of course; he said it because he wants her not to be in pain. I don’t understand any of this; all I know is I hate it. All of it. I’m a kid, and kids are supposed to have a mom and a dad, so why, why does my beautiful mom have to be sick all the time?

  At ten years old I knew Heaven was good and Hell was bad, but when you’re staring down into the shiny, red eyes of one of the only people who’s good, you tend not to believe in anything except Hell. If Heaven is good, then why is it taking a kind, caring, and loving mom like mine away from me? Dying from cancer that struck her hard. I don’t even know what cancer is. All I know is I hate it as much as I hate the doctors who said they couldn’t help her anymore. They can go straight to that place called Hell for all I care. Just let me have my mom back.

  “Yeah,” I lie to her.

  Her tiny little neck slowly eases my strange-looking mom’s sk
inny face to look me in the eye. Oh crap. She knows I lied by the way those watery eyes stare me down knowingly. She doesn’t like to be lied to. She told me no matter what, I should always be honest, whether it hurts someone or not. I don’t care if I lied, not today. I’m not hurting my mom. It sucks to hurt. My chest hurts every time I look at her sad eyes or the tears that won’t stop falling from them.

  “You may not believe in it now, my sweet child. I promise someday you will. Someday when you least expect it, an angel is going to take you away from Hell and soon you’ll find your Heaven.” She chokes on her words. A funny noise comes out of her mouth. Her eyes look like she wants to cry. Again.

  “Mom?” I whisper.

  No movement.

  No blinking.

  No crying.

  “Mom,” I jump up, tears rolling down my face and landing on her hand. “Dad. Something’s wrong. Dad!” I scream through my cries. “I love you, Mom, please don’t go. You didn’t tell me what you meant by ‘an angel’, Mom? Tell me!” I scream through my painful tears.

  “She’s gone, son,” my dad weeps. His arms wrap around me tightly. “My heavenly angel is gone!” he yells as I cling to him tightly.

  I lived several more years on earth before I found out what my mother meant.

  I had an angel once; now I live in Hell on earth.

  1

  CORA

  Seventeen years old

  This is the first time in my life I’ve felt as if I was experiencing that pivotal moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Somewhere between your first sweet memory to your last in chronological order. Your first day of school, first love, birthdays, Christmas. The birth of your child. Witnessing them walking and talking for the first time. All the memories stored up inside your heart dying with you when you take that last breath.

  There has to be nothing more valuable than being a mother. The times of laughter over silly things, the joy of simply existing because of them. These are all the life-changing experiences that make a woman into the person she was meant to be. I’m young. Some would say too young to be someone’s mother. I would beg to differ with them all if I were given a chance.

  For some unknown reason, this is my destiny. Life in hell with my heaven so close and yet out of my reach that no matter how far I stretch, I still can’t grasp hold of it tightly enough, never to let go. Like my life is right now at this exact second. One minute I’m making dinner for myself, the next I’m being summoned to my brother’s office about two miles down the road from where I’ve lived my entire life. Instead of calling me like he usually does or storming in with a cold gust of wind behind him, it’s different this time. I’ve been physically escorted out the door and shoved into the back of a darkened SUV while having my hands and legs tied together until I’m curled up in some yoga position I can’t get out of. By the time we’ve reached his office, where I’m screaming and demanding to know what the hell is going on, my throat is raw, my wrists are bleeding, and I’m mentally racking my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. I’ve done nothing to make my brother’s asshole best friend, Cutter, drag me out of my home to somewhere I do not want to go.

  “Shut your mouth before I shut you up by making you suck my dick, Cora.” I blanch, sickened. Cutter has always given me the creeps by the way he looks me up and down, stares at my breasts and mouth, but he’s never once acted or spoken on his desire. My stomach tosses at the thought of the unpleasant, nasty appendage between his legs. I’d rather get stung by a thousand bees down there than have him touch me. Every time he looks at me, I feel dirty. I scrub my skin raw the first chance I get whenever he gets close to me. The man is disgusting. Anything to do with him makes me want to puke. Neither he nor my brother would know how to treat a lady if it slapped them in the face and jolted their brains awake.

  Cutter’s threats should make me want to shut my mouth; they don’t. I’ll make all the noise in the world to find out why I feel like I’m being dragged to my death. Oh God, please tell me they do not know!

  Without warning, Cutter grips me by my hair, yanking me out of my spot in the corner. My backside lands on the rough gravel with a solid thud. The sharp stones are penetrating through the flesh on my back. I scream out in agony as this man bores his fingers into my cheeks, digging into my skin enough to draw blood with his fingernails penetrating through my flesh. They’re going to kill me.

  “You’re finally getting a chance to get out of here. If you fuck this up, I’ll kill him. Do you get me?” What? I ignore his comment about leaving here. That rolling in my stomach starts to turn, spinning out of control until it crashes into my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I know exactly whom he’s referring to, and the thought makes me want him to stick his dick in my mouth so I can bite the repulsive little thing off. He’s talking about Riddick. Cutter nods my head for me using his greased, stained hands, his fingernails so dirty I gag at the sight. Those hands that make me cringe every time they touch me leave my face and go right back to my hair, where he pulls me behind him across the lot while I stifle my cries of pain. Not from the gravel clawing and embedding into my skin. From the words he spits out like it’s an everyday occurrence to threaten me with the only thing that can plunder my soul. This is the first time he’s physically hurt me, which makes me realize that whatever I’m here for is the worst kind of bad.

  My life is not my own anymore. It belongs to my brother, and I’m a nut job because of it. I live inside my own head, talk to myself, pretend like I’m carrying on a conversation with the one person I want with me all the time. Riddick. I stare at walls for hours upon hours of the day and night, daydreaming of a better life on the ocean, where I can roam freely. Feel the wind swaying in with the tide, my hair blowing back away from my face as I breathe in the salty air. These conscious fantasies are a young woman’s fairy tale we all wish to come true. Riddick knows how much living on the ocean means to me. He is going to kill them for thinking they can put their slimy hands on me. This will be the end to the street fighting gang war my brother seems to think he’s the king of. People stay clear of Jesse Barrick for a reason. He’s maniacal crazy. Certifiably teetering on the edge of insanity. And whatever his reasons are for mistreating me have crazed him out to the point where I’m tumbling over the edge first.

  No one knows about the Riddick and me, so how could Jesse have found out? That’s the only reason I can think of for this abusive and unruly behavior.

  Sure, we’re young and impressionable, and Riddick has his fate mapped out for him. The good thing is, his father is a loving man. He’s going to let Riddick start up his own chapter of the Hell’s Angels anywhere we want to go as soon as I graduate high school. Even though he’s never come out and told me, I really don’t think it’s in Riddick’s blood to take over his father’s gang one day. That’s Riddick for you, though; he’s loyal, kind, and has the biggest heart of anyone I know.

  Riddick Murdock and I have been secretly seeing each other for a year. He’s two years older than me; and he’s the one person my brother has forbidden me to have anything to do with. We both knew trouble would brew in this town; a war would start if my brother were to find out about us. It didn’t matter to either one of us; we fell for each other. We met on my first day of high school, when he almost ran over my toes with his motorcycle in the parking lot. It was my fault for being nervous and not paying attention when I crossed, eagerly trying to make it to class on time. I thought I had enough time to make it across safely; little did I know he was late as well, plowing his way through the throngs of kids way too fast in his dark jeans, a few tattoos on his arms, and hair to his shoulders. Right there I deemed him the sexiest teenager alive. Then he slammed on the brakes and skidded to the side, freezing me in place. Not from the sound of the squawking coming from his tires or from embarrassment. I stood rooted to my spot with my jaw hanging open. The most handsome boy I had ever seen snuck out from under that black helmet and left me immobile. Speechless and a blabbering mess. I
fell in love right there. Not really; but back then it felt like I did. Lust in the form of I-have-to-get-to-know-you zapped me in my ass when his blue eyes fenced mine in his.

  He knew my name, where I lived, and made me feel wanted all in a matter of weeks after our first encounter. We secretively fell in love when we shouldn’t have. And now as I’m being dragged to God knows where, guilt scrapes at the ridges of my dry mouth as I become angry at the people I blame for leaving me to rot in hell. My parents.

  I’m the daughter of the famous Bernardo Barrick, ex- gang leader of the Almighty Sinners and now dead right along with my beautiful mother, Meredith Steller; both of them were gunned down right outside our front door ten years ago. A gang-related drive-by shooting. I can remember them as clear as a bright blue sky. Laughter, joy, and unlike my brother, they loved me, loved him. They would die all over again if they were to witness this.

  They did terrible things. Things I hated to hear. Things I was too young to understand. I knew they weren’t nice people when they left my home. The kids at school would tell me. They stole, they dealt drugs, and they ruled our tiny little town. In spite of all of that, they never once mistreated my brother or me.

  Why my brother turned on me before we had our parents in the ground, I may never know. I really don’t care. He’s told me to stay out of his way, and he would stay out of mine; he pretty much has up until now. Even after my parents died, I fended for myself most of the time. Ate frozen dinners and cereal. School lunches. Watched television. Bought my clothes at the thrift shops. I didn’t mind any of it, except I was alone, with no one to talk to, no one who cared. Until Riddick.