Page 142 of The Betrayal
“I need you,” I moan, pulling out again, and this time, she leans back.
She stands, her hands on my chest as she pushes me back onto the sofa. I watch her, hair framing her face as she climbs onto my lap, knees either side of my legs. Her fingers wrapping round my cock as she rubs my head through her folds, pressing against her clit as she works herself up.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, and she presses me at her opening. Eyes pinned to mine as she lowers herself over me, and I watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, and I will never tire of how good she feels. I guide her, rocking her back and forth over me. It's not going to be long, I can already feel my orgasm building, her pussy tightening and her moans sound like a symphony to me. Her nails dig into my chest, clawing at my skin, marking me and that's when I lose it. My hands tighten on her hips, fingers digging into her skin as I lift her up and down my cock. Her trembling fingers circle her clit and her body trembles, head falling back and the sight of her being close to coming tips me over the edge, I skim my hand up her spine and wrap it round the back of her head as I guide her lips to mine. And that's when we both lose it, both moaning into each other’s mouths as we come together.
CHAPTER FIFTY
ARIZONA
I wake hot and sweaty. It takes me a moment to work out where I am. We're on the sofa. Me and Keaton entangled, and I have no idea how we have both fit. Well, Keaton is right on the edge. And I am naked. Brilliant. I sit up slowly, trying not to wake him as I look for his tee. It's bunched on the floor over the other side of the room. I sigh, walking over and grabbing it. Pulling it over my head, I turn to look at Keaton and a small smile graces my lips. We really are good together.
I'm showered and feel a lot better than I did last night. I ache though, my stomach feels tight, and I feel exhausted. But I didn't sleep much and the hot as fuck man on the sofa definitely worked me out. Padding across the room, I sit on the edge of my bed wrapped in a towel as I use the smaller one to rough dry my hair. I see my phone light up and I contemplate reaching for it, but decide I better. Scooting up the bed, I grab my phone and see three text messages from my dad. Hovering my thumb over the message notification, I inhale deeply as I open them.
Dad
Did you get home okay? xo
Ari, Sunshine... please, I don't want to fall out with you over this.
Look who's arrived.
My heart swells at the photo he has sent. Amora is holding the most precious, tiny baby and all the animosity has faded in an instant.
Me
Dad, what a cutie. Congratulations. How is Amora? x
He reads it instantly and types a response.
Dad
Amazing. If you get a chance, come down and see us. We would really like that. Xo
A small smile lifts the corners of my mouth and suddenly, I am desperate to get to the hospital. Locking my phone, I dress in maternity khaki cargo pants, a tight white tee that sits neatly over my bump. I brush my hair into a tight, slick bun and scowl at the band aid still stuck to my head. I spray down the stray hairs and smooth it out. I moisturize my face then add a layer of foundation and concealer to hide my dark eye bags. Dusting a light pink blush across my cheek bones, I finish my look off with a flick of mascara and soothing lip balm. Grabbing a crew neck white sweater, I slip my feet into my white sneakers and grab my phone.
Placing the coffee pot on, decaf of course, I wait for it to warm before lifting it and pouring myself a large cup. Adding creamer and sugar, I sit in the kitchen and enjoy the silence. It's not often I sit in complete silence, but when I do, I feel at peace. Relaxed. Tranquil. I hate being alone, but to sit in your own company when it's on your terms and you can enjoy silence, well, there is something so different about that. Taking a mouthful, my soul does a happy dance. Once finished, I reach for a bowl and grab some granola, yogurt and strawberries. My eyes fall to the freezer drawer and my mouth waters at the thought of ice, my stomach knotting and my clit pulsing at the memories from last night. My cheeks burn. Balancing my bowl on my palm, I use my free hand to pull the drawer open and grab a cube of ice, popping it into my mouth like a naughty kid snatching something they’ve been told not to touch.
“Still craving?” I hear his voice and annoyingly not his footsteps.
I spin to face him quickly, guilt all over my face but I play it down with a wide, toothy grin.
“Seems that way,” I say around the ice, letting my eyes drop and giving into the blood that runs to my cheeks.
“You're dressed, are you going out?” he asks, walking past me and the smell of sex consumes me. He reaches for a cup then pours his coffee, drinking it black.
“Amora had the baby,” I say as I try and sit at the breakfast bar, huffing and getting frustrated. He gives me a sympathetic smile, walking over to me and he shouldn't look this good in the mornings. Just fucked hair, toned and sculpted body wearing nothing but low hanging pajamas. Even his feet are sexy. Nothing like a half-naked man bare foot in your kitchen. He drags the stool out a little further and lowers it before helping me on, then, like the child I clearly am, he tucks me back in.
“Thank you,” I nod, taking a mouthful of my granola. Don't even fancy it anymore, should have gone with cereal. My favorite. I pinch my brows.
“That's amazing, boy or girl?” he asks, leaning across the breakfast bar and all I can think about is him leaning over the back of me whilst he pounds into me. Obvs, without my huge bump. What the fuck is wrong with me.
“Didn't say,” I shrug, “I'm going to go to the hospital.”
“Want me to come?” He asks, and I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.
“I would love for you to come, sure dad would to,” Liar liar, pants on fire, “but please, if you don't want to, I won't be offended and I'm sure dad wouldn't either.” That's not a lie. Dad would definitely prefer his best friend, who happens to not only be fucking his daughter into next week, but also married her drunk in Vegas and possibly knocked her up with twins, to not come.
“You sure? I don't want to encroach.”