Behold the Stars (33 page)

He moved his hand down, over her taut nipple, to cup her breast in his palm. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, just lightly, and rejoiced inside when she arched up a little, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Still teasing gently at her nipple, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking at the pulse point there. Her pulse skittered against his tongue, but her hands clung to him, and he kept going, drawing his tongue down the same path over her chest that his hand had taken. When he got to her breast, he stopped and looked up. Her eyes were closed. She looked a little tense.

“Lilli? Tell me.”

She opened her eyes and smiled a tiny smile, one corner lifting. “Yes.”

He bent to her breast, brushing the sensitive skin with his beard, his lips, his tongue before drawing her nipple into his mouth. His own pulse was fast and erratic, pounding behind his eyes. To have her again! She gasped then and hummed the air out, her hands coming to weave into his hair and hold his head. He could feel her relaxing, her body moving in a way he found familiar, a way that meant arousal. Continuing his ministrations at her breast, he moved his hand to her side, drawing slowly down to her hip, into her pants, over her delectable ass, down to the outside of her thigh. Her legs were relaxed and slightly spread, but as he moved his hand over the top of her thigh and slid upward, he felt the tension coming on her. He could feel himself tensing, too. He released her breast and looked up. Her eyes were closed again.

“Tell me.”

This time, she swallowed and didn’t open her eyes. She nodded.

“Lilli. Look at me. Tell me. Don’t deal. Tell me.”

She opened her eyes. There was a challenge in them that made him wary, but she said, “Yes.”

“Be fair, baby. Don’t bottle it up. No good for you or me. Right?”

“Right. I want you to keep going.” Her voice was steady.

Nodding, he sat up and grabbed the waistband of her pants, pulling them off her hips and down her legs, casting them aside. Then, still in his jeans, he stretched out again and bent back down to suck harder at her breast, flicking his tongue over the bud of her nipple, drawing her attention there. He moved his hand upward on her thigh—slowly, giving her time to stop him at any point. She didn’t.

Not until he reached her hot, soft, utterly dry folds. And she virtually leapt from his arms, scooting high up on the bed and curling into her protective ball, as tight as her belly would let her, crying, “No! No! Nononononono!”

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

He sat up, feeling his very soul fill with cement. “It’s okay, Lilli. I’m not—I won’t—it’s okay. We’re done. I’m not gonna hurt you. We don’t need this.” He didn’t know if any of those words were helpful. He didn’t know what to say or do. He only knew he’d shrivel up if she pulled back into herself, away from him, again. He thought of Show and Holly, and how their marriage had dwindled to a dry husk after they’d lost their physical connection. No matter what, no matter if Lilli could never enjoy sex again, Isaac wanted her with him, really with him. He couldn’t let her shrink away from him.

She wasn’t crying. She was simply coiled up in that cocoon, her head on her knees. He didn’t know if he should leave her alone, or bring her closer, or just sit there and wait. Since sitting there and waiting was the default, that was what he did. When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he murmured, “I love you, Lilli. Lilli
Lunden
. This doesn’t matter. We don’t need it. I could live the rest of my life without this. I only need you. You and Gia.” It was the first time he’d used their daughter’s name like that, as if he were referring to a person in the world.

She looked up. “No.
I
need it. I can’t stay crazy, Isaac. I need to break their hold on me. It’s making me weak. Like that day is shackled around my neck. It chafes at everything and holds me back. Those men live in my head. They torment me. Every fucking day and night. We have to keep going. We’re having sex tonight. I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t care if it terrifies me. I don’t care if it makes me puke or scream or cry. This is over. Now. I want my head back. I want my body back. I will not let the crazy have me.”

Isaac felt sick. “Lilli. Do you hear what you’re asking me to do? I…can’t. I can’t cause you pain. I can’t. Jesus, baby. I won’t
be able
to do what you want me to do.” That was true—his cock had thoroughly deflated as she’d spoken.

There was a hard gleam in her eyes. He knew the look and what it meant about where her head was. She called it “battle mode.” His idea of making slow, sweet, healing love to his old lady was shot all to hell.

“Use your mouth then. Eat me out. Or your hand. I don’t care. No—I do care. I want your cock. Those fucking deviant pieces of shit—they don’t get to be the last dicks inside me. No motherfucking way.” Her voice had taken on the sharp edge of command, and he knew she was either getting her way or they were fighting. There was no other possible outcome when she got like this.

But he couldn’t give her what she was demanding. He could not hurt her, or traumatize her. He couldn’t. He would do anything for her. Anything but knowingly cause her pain. “No.”

She lashed out so fast, he was holding his jaw almost before he knew she’d punched him. It fucking hurt, but he knew what she was about, and, flexing his jaw a little, he said only, “Ow. No, baby.”

She punched him again. He saw this one coming and moved with it, taking the edge off, but she’d hit the same damn spot. “Ow.”

She hit him again. He wondered how long his patience would hold up—hell, he wondered how long his jaw would hold up. But he wasn’t going to fight back. He’d leave before he came at her, even if that’s what she wanted. Their first time back together was not going to be any kind of a battle.

“You’re gonna hurt your hand, Sport. Because I’m not fighting you. No.”

Like a fucking hellcat, she launched at him then, driving him down to the mattress and lying on top of him, biting and scratching and hitting. Worried more about the baby squished between them than himself, he finally reacted, grabbing her wrists and rolling over with her. He sat astride her legs, holding her arms above her head with one hand.

She was struggling mightily against his hold, and he used his free hand to push down on her chest, between her breasts. “Enough, Lilli. There’s got to be another way. I want to help you. But I won’t hurt you. I won’t do it.”

“Fuck, Isaac! Please! I need
you
. I need to feel
you
. Remember
you
. Get them out of my head! I’m asking you to fucking save me!”

She was breaking his heart. “Don’t ask me to hurt you. I don’t want that to be your memory of us. I can wait, baby. We can talk—”

He cut off, forgetting entirely whatever it was he’d planned to say. As he’d spoken, he’d been stroking her with his free hand, trying to calm her. His hand was now frozen on her belly, as, against his palm, he felt a series of little taps, almost rhythmic but not quite, like somebody was knocking on the other side of her belly. “Jesus, is that—do you—?”

“Yeah. You feel that?” Lilli, too, was suddenly calm, derailed by this moment.

“Yeah!” Grinning, he pressed down a little harder on her belly, and the taps stopped—and then there was another, stronger than the others, as if his little girl had just turned away in a huff. He laughed. “I don’t think she wants Mom and Pop to fight.”

“Pop? That’s what you’re going with?”

Shifting to lie at her side, his head on her chest, just above her belly, he said, “Sure. Why not?”

“I bet you a hundred bucks she calls you Daddy.”

He looked up at her to see her grinning. That moment with their girl had cleared all the shit they’d just been in the middle of away, like it was nothing. “What makes you so sure?”

“I don’t know. I like the thought of it. Seems right. Daddy’s girl.”

He kissed her belly, lingering at the place he’d felt their little girl. Gia. Who would call him Daddy, or Pop, or anything she wanted. Who would not pass a single second of her life without knowing love.

Lilli moaned quietly and flexed her hips. “Isaac. Please. Use your mouth. Make me wet. Let me remember. I want you back. I want me back. Please.”

He shifted between her legs and slid his arms under her thighs. From that position, ready to give her what she wanted even if it burnt his soul to ashes to do it, he looked up over the length of her torso, the rise of her belly. Her eyes were closed. “Lilli. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. You want me back? You want to remember me? Then see me. Watch. Do not close your eyes. You hear me? Stay with me. Watch.”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Awash in trepidation, his cock sound asleep, he leaned in and kissed the inside of her thigh, brushing his beard along the smooth, taut skin. She smelled so amazing to him. Even dry, just the natural state of her scent was an elixir. But she was tense. As he kissed a line to her center, he paused at the joint of her hip and looked up. He met her eyes. He smiled a little—reassuringly, he hoped—and nuzzled into her folds. Smooth and dry, and her body went rigid. He looked up again. Still staring intently between her legs, she nodded.

“Lilli—”

“Do it.
Please
.”

He leaned in again, this time drawing his tongue through her folds. In his hands, her ass clenched hard. But her smell and taste filled his head, more muted now, without her wet, but still so fucking perfect. He’d missed her so much, needed her so much. He hadn’t let himself feel the full extent of what
he
had lost, because he didn’t fucking matter in this equation, but now, with his face pressed against her hot, beautiful pussy, he felt everything he’d missed. His throat was tight with the loss, and he pressed closer to her, sucking her clit into his mouth, needing her taste and touch for himself. He licked and sucked like a starving man, his cock now tempered steel in his jeans, his pulse throbbing through it.

She was tense for a long time, only his own saliva making her wet at all. He didn’t know if this was helping her. He wasn’t even sure anymore if it was helping him. He shifted, bringing her closer and hooking his arms around her hips so he could lay his hands on her belly. He spread his fingers wide, covering her swell completely, not wanting to miss it if Gia moved again.

When he did that, encompassed her belly in his hands, she gasped and went wet. The taste filled his mouth. Shocked, he pulled back and looked at her face, where he found her eyes still watching him.

“Baby? Okay?”

She laughed. “Yeah—yeah. It’s good. Make me come. Oh, shit, Isaac. I think I can come.”

Wasting not a millisecond, he dove back in and sucked her into his mouth. When she arched and moaned, pressing harder to him, he brought one hand around and gently, carefully, slid a finger inside her. She froze at that but didn’t stop him. He slid another finger in, moving slowly, only caressing, until her hips began to move in a rhythm he’d come to know very well. Her fingers came to his head and tangled in his hair, holding him close, and he sucked and pumped until she arched off the bed, moaning.

Panting and tense, Isaac stayed still, his mouth on her, his fingers inside her, on a knife’s edge of his own climax, until she relaxed onto the bed again. Her body began to shake hard—she was sobbing. Motherfuck. He pulled away as fast as he could, coming up on the bed to lie at her side and take her into his arms. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry.”

“No,” she gasped. “No. Relief. These are relief. That was good. Good.” Taking a breath and sighing it out, she stopped crying. “Now I want your cock. Be inside. Come inside. You. I need you.”

Drowning in his own need and encouraged by her orgasm, he didn’t need more invitation than that. He stood and stripped off his jeans, then returned to lean over her. “This is gonna be fast, Sport. I’m so fucking close right now it’s embarrassing.” He rolled so she could straddle him. No way he was going to be on top, pancaking their kid, and no way was he coming from behind. Maybe never again.

She straddled him, and he could feel that, still, she was nervous about this. He could feel her anxiety in the banded muscles of her inner thighs. But she slid down onto his rod, so hot and silky wet, the way she should be, the way that was right. She slid slowly down until she was settled on his hips.

And then she came right back up, fast. That had almost been enough for him; he’d almost blown his wad. This was ridiculous. But she’d come up with a pained, “Ooh,” and now he grabbed her hips. “What’s wrong, Sport?”

“Too deep. Too much. That hurts. I don’t—maybe they did something? Changed something?” If they did, if those sons of bitches had made it so he was too big for her, he’d find some fucking relations of theirs to kill. To be so close and not—GODDAMMIT!

No. Wait. Think.

He did. As she was getting off him, looking stressed, he held on. “Wait, baby. I have an idea. Unless you want to stop.”

“No. I don’t want to stop. But that’s gonna hurt too much.”

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Then I won’t go so deep. Here. How about this?” Holding her close, her knees still on either side of his hips, he swung his legs over to the side of the bed. Sitting up like that, his feet on the floor, he lifted her thighs a little. “Wrap your legs behind me.” She did.

He reached between them and grabbed his cock, which was absurdly hard and weeping with need. “Hop on, Sport.” She eased back onto his cock, settling in with her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He leaned forward a little, which had the effect of holding her a couple of inches off his base. “That okay?”

It was fucking
great
for him. And she nodded, wearing a smug little smile that he adored. “Good. That’s so good. Let’s sit tight for a minute, okay? I need to get hold of myself.”

In response, she began to rock. Jesus. Her breasts moving on his chest. Her belly—Jesus. He didn’t have this kind of control. “Baby, I can’t”—he could barely get the words out.

“I don’t want you to try. Let go. I want to make you come. I feel you here. Inside me. You. And it’s good. I want you to come.”