Exiled Duke: An Exile Novel by K.J. Jackson

Author:K.J. Jackson [Jackson, K.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: AWD Publishing
Published: 2021-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

{ Chapter 15 }

His arms barely holding him up, Strider’s muscles pulsated viciously, his body and limbs wrapped in everything that Pen was. Still inside of her, residual agonizing shots of pleasure continued to dance along his cock.

And yet he was frozen. Afraid to move.

What the hell was that?

Thunder and fire and the crashing of the sea in his chest. And then moments, glimpses of calm. Of peace between the waves and storm. Slices of serenity he wanted nothing more than to savor.

He’d lost all ability to curb himself, again. Didn’t even pull out. Came so hard he’d feared he’d torn up her body from the inside out. All of it harsher than before.

Worse yet, he didn’t think he could stop this—this visceral need for their bodies to be entwined.

Hell. And now he was crushing the living breath out of her.

He flipped them over on the bed, dragging her body with his so she splayed on top of him, their arms and legs still tangled.

Minutes they lay there, her skin twitching against his. The clouds of heaven floating them down to earth. Down to reality.

Her lips moved against the base of his neck. “You’re good at making me happy.”

He chuckled, his chest sending her head bobbing up and down.

With a small groan, she shifted, her left hip sliding onto the bed next to him, her right leg curling up atop his legs. Her torso still draped along him, her lips went to his skin before she set her cheek into the center nook of his chest. “My mind gets me into trouble.”

“Your mind?”

“Yes, my mind—you know that of me—I’m a dreamer and I wanted so badly for my mother’s story to be your parents’ story.”

His right hand went into her hair, pulling free the remaining pins that still dangled from the loose strands. “In what way?”

“How they left England so that they could be together—that is what they always told us. And it always struck me as odd—for how much they both spoke of England with love in their eyes—it was more important for them to leave so they could be together. That’s what I wanted for my own mother. I wanted that story for her.”

“I think—no, by now, I know it, for I’ve seen it all over this land—my parents were the once-in-a-century exception. Their love for each other, for us. It wasn’t normal and they knew that. That’s why they left. Your mother wasn’t as lucky.”

Pen nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest as her fingers traced figure eights along his abdomen—so lightly it almost tickled. “Do you know what I always think about when I think of Mama June?”

“What?”

“It is that moment that your mother set us down on the street outside our house when it was burning. She set us on our feet, pushed us together so we held onto one another. Kissed you on the head. Kissed me. And then turned around and ran back into that fire to get your father. Do you remember what she said?”

His eyes closed, his hand stilling in her hair.

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