Chapter 2
We didn’t get out of the pool for a few hours. I made Ronnie come three more times in the water before sinking my cock deep into her tight heat and erupting inside her as she came a fourth time.
Five in total.
I don’t keep a running tally every time we fuck, but hearing my girl scream my name, her nails clawing at my back, my shoulders, five times in the space of a few hours was a rush.
Most of my life had been a fucking nightmare shitstorm. When I was a teenager, the only light I had in it was seeing Ronnie when we lived next to each other. Any time I gave her pleasure now, a part of me knew I was doing so to thank her for being that light.
She didn’t know she had been. Not for years. Not until almost two months ago, on that night when I escaped certain death at the hands of the corrupt fucker, Dewey and his equally corrupt partner, Kitchner. In a drugged haze, I’d found my way to her.
But even now, she didn’t know just how fucking important she was to me. How the thought of her kept me sane, kept me alive, kept me…civil.
I would never be able to put it into words. I’m a high school dropout with fuck-all education. Words aren’t my strong suit. But I could show her.
I would give her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined.
Five orgasms was barely scratching the surface.
“I really need to get to work,” she murmured, the fading pulses of her fifth climax squeezing my cock.
Before my life crashed into hers and irrevocably changed it, Ronnie had been an apprentice pastry chef. Now, she made cakes and pastries and cupcakes and gave them to the local elementary school. I’d made enough money on the underground MMA circuit and through some very smart investments for Ronnie to never have to work a day in her life, but she loved the baking process.
Neither of us came from upper-class stock, although to be fair, at least her parents fell very firmly in the middle of middle-class, both holding down jobs and owning cars and paying off a mortgage. My mom… Well, when we left my asshole of a father in Canada and moved back to the States, she figured out really quickly how to play the welfare system both here and there, and the Canadian divorce-court system. Plus, there was the string of “uncles” I had until she met the semi-decent guy who’d become my stepdad a month before we moved in next door to Ronnie and her family. Suffice to say, Ronnie loved baking and seeing kids happy, and I loved seeing Ronnie happy.
“What’s on the menu today,” I asked, slowly withdrawing my spent cock from her. The intoxicating friction of her tight, wet pussy on my flesh sent a hot lick of new lust through me.
I could never fucking get enough of her.
“Bear claws,” she murmured, eyes closing for a second as I completely slipped free of her body. “When I’m finished, I might go wedding-dress shopping.”
“Might you now?” I nipped her lips in a quick kiss and sloshed back a step in the pool. “Can I suggest a white thong bikini? Perfect for a beach wedding, yeah?”
She laughed, splashed me, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like Mom and Dad are going to approve of that.”
Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Underwood. The last time Ronnie’s father and I were in the same room, he punched me. And then I knocked him out.
Fun times.
“Not a thong, then?” I grinned.
She splashed me again and then climbed out of the pool. Groot scrambled to his feet and ran over to her from where he’d been dozing on one of the sunbeds, tongue lolling out, doggo grin wide.
Giving him a pat on his head, she flipped me a look over her shoulder. Beads of water streamed and trickled down over her naked body, catching the sinking sun’s rays, glistening and glinting on her smooth flesh. For a second, I wanted nothing more than to grab her, pin her to the ground, and fuck her so hard again she forgot everything in life except me.
Instead, I ground my caveman teeth, parked my possessive lust, and smiled up at her, even as my cock twitched in the water and my heart slammed up into my throat. “How ‘bout a thong covered by a white sarong?” I asked. “A see-through one?”
“Swim some laps, Pratt,” she ordered with a grin. “I can see you’ve got some…energy building up there you need to work off.” She flicked a look at my body below the water, and then, after another pat on Groot’s head, she strutted away from the pool.
Ronnie doesn’t strut often, but when she does…
Fuck, I was hard as a fucking pole again.
I did exactly as instructed. I swam laps.
A hundred of them.
My boner deflated somewhere around lap forty-two. I swam the next fifty-eight thinking about what I would get Ronnie for a wedding present.