The Preacher's Son #3: Unbroken (Erotic Romance) (4 page)

"Yeah. It's stolen, though, and I'll be honest, a part of me is uncomfortable with that. I haven't had much choice since leaving Yazoo, obviously, but if we go somewhere, I'll find a job. I can do anything." He twisted in his seat to face me. "So, are we together, then?"

I laughed. "Yes, we are. I mean, assuming you want to be?"

"Of course I do," Tre said.  "I can't picture anyone else."

"Well, you haven't been with anyone else, have you?"

"No, and I don't want to be with anyone else." Tre shrugged, dismissing the idea.

Silence for a while, then I asked, "So, then, where are we going from Nassau?"

Tre laughed. "Well hell, I don't know. I've never left Mississippi." He stared out the window, then turned back to me. "I guess we could just take it one day at a time. See where we end up, where we like to be, and stay there."

It was a simplistic way of putting it, I thought. But then, why couldn't it be simple? Just find somewhere we like to be, and stay there?

It suddenly sounded like a wonderful idea.

We hired a private flight from Nassau to St. John's. We'd moved my account, taken some cash, and left Nassau within twenty-four hours. It was too local, too familiar, too easy to find. I wanted to be somewhere obscure.

We sat in the back of the twin-engine float plane, hand in hand, watching the ocean ripple beneath us. The pilot was a taciturn, bearded, older man who'd taken our cash and lifted off without a word, no names asked, no flight plan logged. We'd paid extra for that service.

He set down off shore, props still spinning. Tre offloaded our luggage into the waiting outboard motor skiff, and the plane was gone within seconds. The boat pilot nodded and smiled, but didn't speak.

A few minutes of bouncing on the pale blue waves and we were bumping against a dock, surrounded by a forest of bobbing masts. Once again Tre threw our luggage—two suitcases and two carry-on backpacks—to the dock and we left the boat, which backed out and puttered away.

St. John's. Tre and I glanced at each other, at the lush, tropical vegetation and dots of houses peeking from between the trees, and then back at each other. A taxi skidded to a stop next to us and a young man with curly black hair jumped out, grabbed our suitcases and threw them into the open trunk.

"Come, come. Hotel, this way," the young man said, waving to us.

Tre shrugged and climbed into the taxi, pulling me after him. The taxi ride was frightening. I'd been on rollercoasters less hair-raising. The driver dodged between trucks full of produce, other taxis, private vehicles, mopeds, and pedestrians, all at a breakneck pace, honking. I clutched Tre's hand and laughed, a little hysterical.

The taxi came to a screeching stop at a Sheraton. The driver jumped out, carried our luggage into the lobby without consulting us.

"Come, come. Best hotel. Luxury hotel. Stay. Enjoy Love City," he said, a bright smile showing rows of white, even teeth against his dark skin.

 We paid him and went in, deciding to go with the flow.

"You know he probably gets a kickback from taking us here," I told Tre.

He shrugged. "I'm sure. But does it matter? Now we don't have to look for somewhere to stay right off the bat. We'll figure something out long term later. For now, let's just chill."

"Chill?" I grinned. "What kind of chilling?"

Tre licked his lips and leaned close to whisper his answer as we approached the concierge. "The kind where you don't have any clothes on."

I laughed. "Well, of course. Is there any other kind?"

"Nope."

We got a room on the twentieth floor, a single. We spent the day touring downtown St. John's, doing the tourist thing. We didn't go back to the hotel until well after midnight, footsore and happy.

The lobby was deserted, only a bored concierge on duty behind the desk. The elevator was equally deserted. Tre had my skirt up around my hips within seconds, his fingers brushing into me.

"Tre," I laughed, "you have to push a button for the elevator to move."

"I will," he muttered, lifting my shirt to take a nipple into his mouth.

"What if someone wants to take this elevator?" I asked.

"There's others."

He silenced any further questions by kissing me, one hand between my legs, stroking me gently, sending heat billowing through me. I hadn't been horny when we got on the elevator. I'd been looking forward to a hot shower and a soft bed, and Tre's arms around me as I slept.

I couldn't resist his tongue's sweep against my lips, his fingers delving into my soft folds, which grew wetter and readier with every passing moment. I couldn't resist his hand cupping my breast, his lean hips pressing me against the elevator wall. Most of all, I couldn't resist his urgency, the desperation with which he touched and kissed and held me. As if he'd starved his whole life for the attention I offered.

His desperation fueled my own, and I realized I was as in need of affection as he was. It was suddenly no longer just about his fingers in my pussy or his tongue in my mouth, or his hard cock in my hands as I felt myself lifted up and pinned against the wall. It was about him. It was about the reason he touched me, the delicate fury of his slow penetration into me. It was about the light in his eyes as he lifted me up and slid me down to bury his shaft inside me.

It was about his voice in my ear, whispering my name. "Shea, oh god, Shea."

It was my reply, torn from my lips: "How have I lived my entire life without you?"

He didn't answer, just lifted up on his toes as I lowered my hips, and whispered my name again.

Neither of us slowed or stopped when the elevator dinged and the door whooshed open. "Oh, shit. Um, excuse me," came a shocked male voice. The doors closed and we were alone again.

Tre laughed into the skin of my neck, and then fell silent once more. I dragged my fingertips across his jaw, turned his face up to mine, kissed him, eyes open, tried once again to let what I was feeling show through.

He came with soft gasp, and I came with him, our lips touching in a stilled kiss.

After another moment of heaving breath and sparking, meeting eyes, Tre let me down and touched the button for our floor. It was a short ride and a shorter walk to our room. He swiped the card and shoved open the door.

His seed was running down my leg as he stripped me of my clothes. Naked himself, now, he scooped me in his arms and set me on the bed. I watched his tight ass move as he set the tub to filling with steaming water, then came back for me.

Neither of us had said a word since we'd entered the hotel.

He stretched out on the bed next to me, our skin pebbling in the cool air of the hotel, and ran his hands on my skin, touching me everywhere. He began at my face, brushing stray strands of hair from my cheek, kissed my nose and forehead and cheekbones, then my mouth and my neck. His fingers roved across my shoulders, down my arms, tangled with my hands and then back to my ribs, lifted the weight of my breasts and kissed underneath them, the mounded sides, and then the taut nipples, each in turn. His fingers drifted southward along my belly while his mouth remained at my breasts.

I felt his cock against the outside of my thigh, a soft lump between us. The water poured into the tub, the only sound in the room but for my soft sighs. I took his soft manhood in my hands and rolled in it my palm, turning on my side to watch it grow at my touch. It was gradual at first, just a twisting of the curled, limp flesh, veins straightening. Then there was subtle firming of the skin, a tightening of the sagging skin of his balls. I traced the length of him with a fingernail, and his cock jerked, grew perceptibly larger. It no longer hung down to lay against his thigh, but rather stood semi-erect, as if in anticipation.

His hand carved down the curve of my hip to my thigh, cupped my ass and continued its downward slide to my thigh, running along the outside. When he reached the extent of his arm's length, his hand drew upward once more, this time along the inside. My thighs trembled in delicious preparation of his soft, insistent, tender touch.

His fingers parted my thighs, traced the crease of my labia. I sighed in pleasure, and his cock went rigid in my hands. I caressed his length in a loose fist, barely brushing his veined flesh. His cock was a heated steel rod in my hands, swathed in softest silk, pulsing with blood, aching for my touch, bobbing with his breathing, tip glistening with dewdrops of pre-come.

And then I was airborne, lifted effortlessly in his brawny arms and carried to the tub, lowered gently into the steaming water. He turned off the faucet and climbed in behind me, sloshing water over the side. I lay with my back against his chest, his cock jammed between our bodies. I turned my face up to kiss his jaw, wrapped my arm behind me and pulled his head down to mine. Our lips met, bumped, touched, and then locked together. Heat diffused through us, from the water and from our bodies, from the steam in the air and the fires of desire in our bellies.

He slid his hands beneath my ass and lifted me up. I braced myself with feet and hands, still kissing him, and then reached down between us and guided the thick crown of his shaft to my entrance. He didn't thrust in immediately, but wrapped his hands beneath my thighs and held me aloft as he gently and slowly nestled himself inside me, a centimeter at a time, careful to not break the suction keeping the water out of me.

By the time he was buried to the hilt, his arms were trembling from supporting my weight. He drew his knees up and slid down in the tub so I was sitting on top of him, impaled by him. I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder, cupped his face in my hands and whispered his name as our bodies rocked in slow, undulating rhythm, sending waves of bathwater rippling between us.

 His lips crushed against mine again, stealing my breath in a searing kiss. Gentle hands brushed my shoulders and slid down my backbone, caressed both breasts and squeezed them, pinched the nipples and rolled them, causing my hips to buck in affirmation. I moaned into his mouth when one of his hands descended the slope of my belly and dipped without pause into my pussy. I used my feet against the far side of the tub as leverage to lift my hips and sink down on his hard, scorching shaft, moaning loudly now.

He continued to toy with my sensitive nipples and circle the hard nub of my clit as he thrust into me, gasping in tandem with me now. His heartbeat was a steady drum against my back, his voice an encouraging groan in my ear, his body both hard yet soft beneath me, driving into me in a way that filled me as never before, striking deep, deep within me.

As his body penetrated mine, I felt his heart and soul piercing me as well. As in the bathroom, and in the elevator, this sensate experience with Tre delved far beyond the pale of mere sexual contact. It was a turning point, of sorts. It had been coming for a long time, building in incremental degrees, and this was the apex.

Water sloshed around us, our moans of bliss morphed into cries of ecstasy, voices twined, bodies rocking in pulsating synchronicity, raw emotion coiling like serpents in the air, unspoken but all too real.

And then he changed everything.

He came, saying, "Goddamn, Shea. I love you so much."

The climax that burst through me was as much emotional as physical. I hadn't heard those words in so, so many years. They knifed into my heart as his essence washed through me, as his body merged with mine. I felt my inner muscles clamp down around him and my arms clenched around his neck, my lips locked on his and I came with a deep, wracking sob.

"Oh god, Tre. Oh god. Yes." I gripped his hair in my fist and craned my neck to peer into his eyes. "Say it again, Tre."

He thrust hard into me. "I love you, Shea." Another thrust, and my eyes closed involuntarily at the piercing pang of pleasure. "I love you."

I cried and laughed, rocked my body on his, and climaxed with every fiber of my being. My body curled down onto him, and I was helpless against the writhing bliss that rocketed through me, aftershock upon aftershock.

Our shudders subsided and I could breathe once more. I lay on him in the tub, still impaled by him. I opened my mouth to speak, but he kissed me quiet.

"Don't say it just to say it back," Tre told me. "Say it if and when you want to, because it's what you feel."

I nodded, and let myself go limp. We drowsed in the water until it went cool and then drained it, stood and turned on the shower to clean up. We toweled each other dry, trading kisses on random patches of revealed skin, and then cuddled together in the bed, the cool sheets warming quickly with our body heat.

I slept, long and deep, waking to a crack of morning light piercing between the gap in the heavy curtains. The air beyond the covers was cold, smelling of hotel air conditioner. Tre was on my left, his face lax in sleep, thick black hair sleep-mussed and drifting across his cheek and forehead. I swept it aside with my finger, and he nudged his face into my palm in his sleep, like a puppy seeking affection.

He stirred, rolling from his back to his side, seeking me with his hands. I let him pull me close, clutch me against him. He wedged one of his thighs between mine, his arm flung over my hip possessively. His cock was hard, poking into my belly, a hot length stabbing just beneath my ribs.

I lay awake, watching him sleep, feeling the last bricks in the wall around my heart crumble.

I loved him.

The realization didn't frighten me.

I wasn't aware at first of my hands drifting between us to curl around his cock. His eyes cracked open and a smile touched the corners of his lips. He didn't move or speak, just gazed at me through half-lidded eyes. I just held him at first.

Then I lifted my leg and hooked it over his hip and guided the tip of him to the damp heat of my entrance. I didn't slide him in, yet. His eyes opened farther, and his hand tightened on my hip.

"I love you, Tre." A shift of bodies, and he slipped in. It was the most natural feeling in the world, now, to feel him fill me. "God, I don't know how it happened, but I love you."

Tre chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "It happened because we're meant for each other."