Read Promise Online

Authors: Dani Wyatt

Promise (46 page)

My fingers are working. Devilishly teasing her slowly, in and out, increasing my speed and friction until I see her legs spread to their limit, giving me all of her.

“That’s it . . . good girl.”

My thumb traces over her hard nub, spinning and pushing until I hear a continuous line of “oh my god’s” and “please, please don’t stop’s.”

This is the moment I live for. Right now.

A rush of moisture floods my hand as her body trembles and her mouth forgets how to form words. She is primitive, instinctual and completely mine.

She cums with a raspy whimper that turns to near sobs as I sink teeth into flesh. Leaving a deep, rose-colored mark on her shoulder before lowering my face and replacing my thumb with my lips, kissing her to another climax as I taste the wicked flavor that haunts my dreams.

I hum into her clit as I kiss and suck. “Good girl.”

Neither of us wants the day to begin, but it must. Not before I settle her mind, though. It’s six am, and I woke her with my kisses.

My cock is never far from ready for her even when I’m asleep, but today, I’m as hard as I’ve ever been. Not just because she is still as stunning to me today as she was four months ago when she gave me the honor of taking her the first time, but because today I get to help her face her demons. The protective beast in me is on its highest alert, and that always translates straight to my ever-vigilant dick.

I give her soft strokes up and down her body, letting her take a moment, and my eyes glide over her near-translucent skin, drinking her in even in the dim light.

We’ve fallen in a dance of pure joy day to day. She wanders the loft, unaware of how beautiful she is naked and without the former, self-conscious questions that plagued her mind.

When we are here alone, she wears nothing but her smile, or a rose-colored, satin robe on occasion. I want her like this with nothing between us, completely and utterly mine, and what I give her in return is all of me. Every second of every day, my mind wanders and races with how to make her life better—what is best for her, how to give her pleasure. How to keep her from harm.

I take care of what’s mine.

Her body goes slack, and I turn her to her side, slipping behind her as our bodies arc like puzzle pieces into each other.

My hand is slick, and I gently curl a finger around the tight ring of muscle where I intend to press inside, and I hear her muffled, seductive moan.

“You want it?” I gather more of her juices onto my fingers and make sure she is soaking my cock as I glide it between her legs, through her folds, back and forth, until my length is as wet as my fingers.

She gives me a slow nod and lets her head fall back onto me as I guide the head of my slick cock slowly into her ass. It took a month for me to ready her body for this. Taught her the joy of it with my fingers first, bringing her to shuddering, crying orgasms so she understood all the new ways her body could yield to me, and in turn, gave her pleasure like she never imagined.

Two months later and she begs for it, loves the way I take her from behind, filling her ass with every inch.

One of her hands drifts behind her head to touch my cheek as I enter her with slow, steady pressure.

“God, babe . . .” My voice almost cracks when she presses her hips back, urging me forward.

“Oh God . . .” She sighs and shifts her hips so that I slide in another inch, stretching her around my thickness.

She whimpers in exquisite pain. She’s learned to straddle the gap between the light and dark. The pleasure and pain. And, it’s become a part of us.

The sting of my hand, the choke of her throat, the pull of her hair . . . they are as much a part of our love as our kisses. She is a true woman, and I am loathe to take any part of her for granted.

We are arms and thrusts and wanting as our bodies move and stroke each other. I’m almost fully seated inside her ass when I increase the rhythm of my strokes.

“Oh god,
Beck
. . .”

I lift her leg, gaining momentum and access, and my own breath is coming fast, in and out, as my cock dares me to hold back.

“Good girl, my good girl likes it. Take it, babe . . .” I lift my head so I can watch her face because that is what I live for.

Her cries of pleasure tell me I’m spot-on reading her signals, and I know what she needs. Faster and faster, I’m filling her until she’s near tears, but it’s the pain she craves. The way her body stretches and allows me all of her while I give her what she wants.

“So beautiful . . .”

She cums with a pulsing shudder, the magical sounds ringing in my ears as she grips the fabric of the pillow and bites down with an orgasm that feels as close to heaven as humans can get.

“Yes babe, cum . . . That’s your job, to cum for me.” I growl into her ear and set my dick as deep as I can, the flesh of my hips grinding into the soft curves of her ass, one hand cupping her tit with my fingers pinching her hard peak to send her into another rippling wave of bliss.

My teeth set into the curve of her neck as I let myself go. My own roar meeting with the last of her broken cries as her body quivers around me. We are slick with sweat, our chests rising and falling in unison as our bodies stay locked together, neither of us aware of anything besides the connection of two people made one.

“I love you, babe. More every day.” I kiss where my mark is rising on her neck and realize it will be a turtle neck day for her yet again.

“Hmmm, thank you, Daddy. I love you too.”

My heart swells. She started that shit on her own, but it’s perfect. One night she let out with the “Daddy” while I worked her ass over my knee. She sent my dick into fucking orbit with that, and it’s become just another beautiful part of who we are.

“You ready for today?” I ask, holding my lips just under her jaw where I love to feel her pulse.

“If you’re there with me, I’m ready for anything.”

“Good girl. You know I’ll be right there.”

“Are you sure?” Promise is holding the pen, looking to me for reassurance.

“Yeah, babe. He’s the only person in the world I trust. Sign it.” I kiss the top of her head and watch her pull her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Okay. I’ve fought for so long. I just want what’s best for him, but to be honest, I am selfish. I want him all to myself, too.”

After the DNA test had shown that Louis was Jordan’s father, it took us all a few days to wrap our heads around our new world view. But, when the dust settled, we all sat down and hammered out a custody agreement giving Promise partial custody and Louis primary custody.

Jordan took to Louis like I knew he would, but it’ll be a while before they form a permanent bond, and it’s clear that Louis is up for the challenge of being a dad. From the moment I saw him with Jordan, there was something about Louis that was new. More intense than I’d ever seen before.

Our friendship has grown over the years, but this experience has made me realize that my life with Louis has almost always been about me. Most of his life has been a mystery. He did tell me once why he became a court liaison. His own father abandoned him when he was six, back in Cairo where he’s from. There’s so CPS there, so he lived on the streets. He told me bits and pieces about his life over the years, and it was an entirely different sort of hell than I had. I don’t know how a kid can go through some of the things he did and come out the other end as normal as Louis.

“I know, it’s hard. But I can’t say enough good things about Louis. I’ve never doubted him, and you know, I’ve got that thing.” I bounce my eyebrows up and down a few times until she gives me the you’re-an-idiot eye roll.

“Maybe we can just re-think the primary custody part.” Promise looks anxious, and I understand.

“The law is on his side on that one.” Dennis Archibald, Promise’s attorney, chimes in from behind his desk. He’s been making sure all the t’s are crossed and the i’s dotted.

I rub her shoulder. “Louis said you can have visitation whenever you want. More than the agreement. It’ll be okay, babe.” I rub my hand down her back and feel the tension in her muscles. “A lot has happened, but Louis will not let you down, I promise. And, Jordan needs a father. His real father, Promise. This is
good
for him. You asked him if this is what he wanted, and he said yes.”

With a shaking hand, she signs and says a little pray that Louis is in this for the long haul. We’ve got an hour to get to the courthouse, and I know my girl is tired.

Two hours ago, we sat in a different attorney’s office with me holding her hand while she gave her deposition on all-things-Jeremy. He’s out on bail, but from the looks of things, he’s got a future in front of him in a state prison.

Now, we are back, sitting in the same courtroom where it all started. We are here to celebrate. It’s all just paperwork, but I can feel how nervous she is. We picked up Jordan from Louis’s place on our way here.

The small, blond boy can’t stop smiling as he sits next to his attorney at the table in the front of the courtroom. Louis is sitting next to him, and they take turns glancing behind at us, then at each other.”

Next it’s “all rise” as a stern looking, middle-aged, African American woman strides into the courtroom in her black robe. Taking her seat, she picks up the folder in front of her.

“From what I see, all parties are in agreement regarding the guardianship and adoption of a one Jordan Anthony Henderson. Custody will be in the primary hands of Louis Spicer and shared custody and visitation with r, Ms. Henderson. Is this correct, Counsel?”

An attorney at the opposite table stands.

“Yes, Your Honor. The State of Ohio and the Department of Children and Family Services has no objections. Louis Henderson is the biological father of Jordan Henderson and has negotiated the custody agreement with Jordan’s sister, Ms. Promise Henderson.”

“Very well. Custody agreement is acknowledged and approved. Young man,” she winks at Jordan, “I wish you well.” The judge smiles and scratches her signature on the stack of papers in front of her. “This case is closed.”

Promise’s shoulders are shaking under my arm, and Jordan looks around. His blue eyes land on my girl.

My umbrella of protective instinct covers them both, and the debts of the past feel paid.

I’ve learned how to pray in the last few months, and from what I can tell, I think God and I have finally called a truce.

Promise

I love how his hand feels, the way his fingers spread mine when they intertwine, and he pulls the back of my hand to his lips. I close my eyes and let the moment wash over me.

“You ready?” Beckett’s lips lift from my hand just long enough to say those two words, and then their warmth is back in place, holding my left hand to his mouth.

“Ready.” Did my voice just shake? My legs are shaking, but I think that is from the morning workout Beckett gave me back at Louis’s guest house where we’ve been staying.

The church is nothing special to most people. I’d seen pictures of these small churches in magazines before. You know, the ones that are sitting out by themselves on a dirt road surrounded by cornfields and not much else. Chipped white paint and a tall steeple.

When Beckett asked me what kind of wedding I wanted, it was one of these churches that came to mind. He spent the next few days driving me all over God’s creation trying to find the perfect place. He succeeded.

Other than the church, all I wanted was him, Jordan and for our life to start.

And Louis.

He’s part of my life now, too. Since the adoption went through, Jordan has been staying with Louis, but Beckett and I stay at the guesthouse on the days that are mine so we can all bond as an unconventional family. It’s only been a week, and Beckett and I need to figure out where we’re going to live permanently. But for now, this is perfect.

Deep breath and Beckett is gently pulling me into him. I listen as the willow tree’s leaves catch in the wind and sound like a thousand tiny pieces of paper tearing. We walk in step, our feet crunching on the dusty path from where we parked. We climb the twelve steps to the faded blue doors of the church. The breeze is warm for April, clouds roll over the sun as it grabs the shadows and texture of Beckett’s face, and I feel unsteady but happier than I’ve ever been.

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