Marquita Valentine - Not Over You

Warm relief turned to hot desire when she dropped the quilt. He would never get used to the sight of her, all golden skin and soft curves.

The last time she had been in Holland Springs, her body had been almost as sharp as her words. Her body had felt bony and brittle. It had worried him so much that he’d made her get something to eat before taking her to Ivy, but now that she’d filled out again, her skin no longer looked stretched tight over muscle and bones.

Still, she wasn’t as strong as she would have him and everyone else believe. Like the graceful willow tree he had planted in his yard, if too much strain and pressure were applied, eventually she would break.

Summer turned slowly, the look on her face both heartbreaking and heart racing. He’d seen it often enough to know she was determined to prove she had control. It wasn’t a matter of controlling him; it was a matter of controlling her situation.

“Not again,” he muttered.

Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he went to her first. The grass was cold and dewy under his feet, but he didn’t care. All he could think and feel and see was her—standing there, waiting for him. He had to save her.

She thrust out her breasts, raised her arms over her head, and stretched. “Morning,” she said as he stopped a couple of feet away.

“Missed you this morning.”

“Did you?” She took a small step toward him before running a hand up his bare chest. “Want me to make it up to you?”

“If that’s what you think you should do.”

A flash of annoyance appeared in her eyes. Gracefully, she kneeled in front of him and pulled down his pants, freeing his erection. His vision sparked, a hot flash of white light, when she wrapped her mouth around the tip of him.

His hands went to her hair, burying his finger and wrapping the blond strands around them. “You don’t have to—”

“I delight in the taste of my lover,” she said, and then licked the length of him.

Don’t throw my words back at me, he silently begged. “Don’t,” he groaned, tugging on her hair. He wanted her to continue. He wanted to feel her mouth on him again, but not like this, not like she owed him.

She sucked him deep, and his eyes rolled. His hips moved, his hands pushing and pulling her head as he found a rhythm. Wet, hot pleasure washed over him.

He couldn’t think. He could barely speak—much less breathe.

The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and he went over the edge, groaning her name and hating himself as clarity returned. Shame washed over him as she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not at what she had done, but for the reason behind it. A reason he didn’t know, but he did know it couldn’t be because she loved him and wanted to give him pleasure.

“I don’t expect you to perform for me,” he said, adjusting his pants.

Her brown eye turned hard and cold, after days of warmth residing there, and he wanted to shout and curse at his own weak flesh. “What do you expect?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Then at least share why you decided to—”

“Give you a blow job?”

His jaw turned hard. “Why do you have to do this? Why do you take something that was amazing and special and make it sordid and—”

“Not sordid.” She rolled her eyes. “Yet another s-word I need to learn, like sinning.” She cupped her breasts. “Was it a sin when you sucked on these?”

“Summer.”

Her hands left her breasts, to tiptoe down her flat stomach, and slide between her legs. “Was it sinful to touch me here, to lick me, and shove your dick inside of me?”

He grabbed her wrist. “Stop it, before you say something that you’ll regret.”

“I already regret what I said to you,” she shouted. “I regret marrying you, and the faster you regret marrying me the better.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Her lower lip trembled, and the hardness in her eyes glistened, like slick ice. “It just is.”

He wanted to argue with her some more. He wanted to explain all the reason why it was the best decision either of them had ever made when it came to their relationship.

“I won’t regret it. No matter how hard and far you push me away, I’ll keep coming back. No matter how silent you become, I’ll keep talking.” He shook his head. “I’ve let you lead this relationship for too long, and I’m done.”

Her eyes widened. “You are?”

“Hell, yes.” Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside, striding to the bedroom and placing her in the middle of the bed. He didn’t stop touching her, didn’t stop kissing her, until he was hard again, and she was begging for him to make love to her, begging him to let her come.

Finally, he thrust deep inside of her, groaning her name.

“Please, please,” she cried out, writhing beneath him, but he kept the roll of his hips steady. “Faster.”

“No.” He dipped his head, licking her nipple, and then giving the other some attention until they were hard, greedy little points. “Say it after me—divorce isn’t an option.”

She stopped moving long enough to give him an evil glare. “Divorce isn’t an option… it’s a necessity.”

Cursing under his breath, he pulled out of her and flipped her on her stomach, getting into position behind her. When she didn’t line up properly for him, he improvised and shoved a pillow under her hips, before giving her enticing little bottom a smack. She squealed and tried to get up, but he held her in place with one hand and smacked her there again.

Her legs widened, giving him an extremely nice view of her wet folds, all pink and waiting for him to fill her up again. Grabbing his cock, he eased it inside of her, pausing to give her time to adjust. “How’s that?”

“I won’t say it.” There was a little hitch in her voice.

Exhaling, he closed his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“Angel,” she said tentatively.

He didn’t want to answer her. All he wanted was for her to agree, and for them to make love like nothing was wrong between them. But he did anyway.

“I’m still here.” The snug feel of her made his eyes water. He couldn’t help it.

“Order me to tell you to move.”

His eyes flew open. “What?”

“Please,” she said. “I can’t…”

Their damnable pride. That’s what had brought them to this point, and yet, here she was, asking for his help. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want…” He slid the smallest of distances and she moaned. “That. I want that.”

He gripped her hips, pulling out and thrusting inside of again. “This?”

“Yes.”

In and out, he thrust inside of her, every slide, every roll of his hips, encourage by her reverent yeses and pleas for more. His heart pounded, and their skin grew slick. Bead of sweat rolled down his back, but there was no way he’d come before her.

Slipping a hand under her body, he cupped her and made her sit back on him, sliding his fingers to where they were joined. She tightened around him, her breasts bouncing as she moved.

Her head fell back. She turned slightly to kiss him. He fastened his mouth to hers and drove deep. She cried out and he joined her, growling like some animal.

But none of that mattered, because she was weeping in his arms and he was pulling out of her, turning her to face him, and kissing her tears away.

There were no need for words, no need for questions. Only comfort, only love, and he had it all to give her, even if she still believed she didn’t deserve it.

Gabriel pulled a shirt over his head. “I have to go into town tonight. There’s an emergency with one of my clients.”

Summer sat up in bed, arms wrapped around her legs. “Does that happen a lot?”

“No, but this kid in particular is extremely stubborn.” He sat down in a chair and began to lace up a pair of sneakers. “She keeps running away from her uncle’s home, and the law keeps finding and bringing her back.”

“Maybe she doesn’t belong there.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” he said with a grunt.

“What if her uncle is hurting him?”

Gabriel pinned her with a look. “Not all men are like Patrick Johnson.”

“He’s not my uncle.”

“But he is dead.”

Summer blinked at him. “How… are you kidding? Please tell me you’re not kidding.” She felt light in the head. This was something that had come between them for years. His belief that she had started sleeping with Patrick to get back at him, and when he learned the truth, she’d made him pay for years by allowing the men and women around here to talk about her, to spread rumors and lies. It was only fitting since Gabriel had believed them, without getting her side first.

By the time he had come to her for her side of the story, she’d been so hurt and furious that she refused to have anything to do with him. She’d refused his calls, his visits… everything until he had asked her to prom and she’d told him to drop dead.

He’d taken Zoe Ambrose instead, but Summer wasn’t mad at her. She still wasn’t mad at her. She wouldn’t have been even if Zoe and Gabriel had gotten married and had beautiful children. It wasn’t Zoe’s fault, and none of the Ambroses had ever treated her or her sisters like second-class citizens.

Come to think of it, there had been many times, Leah Ambrose, the matriarch of the family, had come to Strawberry Grove with some extra food that was about to spoil, or so she claimed.

But that extra food always ended up being fresh, home-cooked meals. Azalea had taken it all, like Leah Ambrose owed her, but the baby, Skye, had always hugged the other woman in thanks. Summer and Rose would stand silently, watching from the porch and wishing a hole would swallow them up.

Funny how little memories like that sneaked up on a person when they were feeling most vulnerable. But right now, she didn’t want memories of Patrick Johnson. She wanted all the gory details of his death.

Gabriel crossed the room and sat down beside her. “He was caught raping a twelve year old. Her dad blew his head off.”

“Good,” she said, refusing to look at him. “Don’t you dare say vengeance only belongs to the—”

“I would have castrated him,” Gabriel said softly. “I blame myself for not doing it years ago.”

Tears clogged her throat. “But you would have gone to jail.”

“Sweetheart, I did go to jail for assaulting Patrick.” Her gaze flew to his as he continued. “I stayed locked up for six weeks, and then had a years’ worth of probation.” He picked up one of her hands, lacing his fingers through it. His wedding ring caught her eye, a sign of his commitment to her, though he’d been committed to her since they were children. “Why else do you think those kids listen to me?”

“I never knew,” she said. He’d done all that after he’d found out what Patrick had done, and hadn’t bothered to tell her? “If I had, I would have—”

“Gone to jail for stealing his car and taking his money?” Gabriel gave her a sad smile. “Justice doesn’t always work the way we want it.”

“I didn’t steal it,” she gulped. “His dad gave it to me, so I’d be quiet. He said if I didn’t take it and be quiet, then he’d…he’d bring Skye to his son. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Get out of here, girl,” Patrick, Senior had shouted at her, shoving her from behind.

She limped to the mustang, the pain between her thighs excruciating. One eye was swollen and her lip was busted, but she was alive.

“I’m trying,” she managed to snap.

“Don’t you tell no one either. You tell, then so do I.” He took her by the arm, and began dragging her to the car. “Ain’t no one going to believe the daughter of a whore, who raised nothing but baby whores.”

Now that, Summer believed. “Why are you helping me, then?”

“That boy couldn’t help himself. You tempted him, but when he tied you up and you started screaming for help… Well, that’s different. You at least get to have say.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his logic.

He opened the car door and shoved her inside. Pain shot through her, making black dots dance in front of her eyes. “I’ll be keeping my ear out. If I hear so much as a peep, I’ll get that sister of yours, the redheaded one, and let Patrick play with her.”

Helpless fury rose. Summer might not be able to save any other girls from what she went through, but she could at least keep her sisters safe. “You touch her or Rose, and I’ll burn your house to the ground with Patrick in it.”