Tru blue, p.16
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       Tru Blue, p.16

           Melissa Foster
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  He gave her a light smack on the ass, earning a sexy giggle. “The Lost Boys are bikers in her book. You know how I feel about that.”

  “You love your biker friends.” She turned on her side and pressed her body to his. “Just because we put him in a biker outfit doesn’t mean he’ll go all rebellious on you when he’s older. Besides, you made the Lost Boys bikers. Isn’t that hypocritical?” She pushed him onto his back and pressed her lips to his jaw, his neck, and continued kissing her way down the center of his body, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything but her incredible mouth.

  “I’m filling their heads with the good the Lost Boys do. One day they’ll learn the difference between motorcycle clubs and biker gangs. Then he can dress however he wants.”

  “I spent my entire childhood making up stories about being everything from a fairy princess to a biker girl, and I didn’t turn out so bad.”

  She continued kissing him, and he was seriously reconsidering Winnie the Pooh. There was a fine line between a motorcycle club and a biker gang, and thinking about Lincoln growing up and heading down that path scared the hell out of Truman. Gemma was right, though. Lincoln was too young for Truman to worry about that type of thing—but Truman was enjoying the way she was trying to convince him to give in. He loved when her mouth was on him anywhere, but when she went down on him, he felt even closer to her. Not because of the thrum of erotic pleasures it brought, but because she seemed to enjoy pleasuring him and the control that came with it. Seeing Gemma enjoying anything made life a million times better. Seeing her enjoying him was pure bliss.

  She grazed her teeth over his nipple, intensifying the lust coiling low in his core. “He’d be super cute with a bandana on his little head and a Harley shirt and jeans.” She swirled her tongue over his abs, her hands playing over his ribs, trailing lower by the second.

  “Gem…” He curled his fingers in the sheets to keep from pushing her lower.

  “I have an idea. Let’s make a deal.” She ran her tongue around his belly button, and his cock twitched with anticipation. “How about you let me write an article about you and your artwork—Local Creative Genius Unveiled—and you can choose Linc’s costume?”

  She’d been urging him to let her write an article about his artwork for weeks. She was convinced that everyone in Peaceful Harbor would think he was far more talented than he believed himself to be. She even talked about him illustrating children’s books that they would write together. She loved making up stories, too, and said that together their stories would have more interesting twists. What did he know about any of that? He wrote stories for his kids, but other kids might hate them.

  “I don’t want the attention,” he said honestly. “Nobody knows about my conviction. I’d rather keep it that way.”

  She lowered the waist of his briefs slowly, revealing just the head of his cock, and slid her tongue over the tip. “Hm. What can I do to change your mind about one of those things?” She practically purred every word.

  She pressed her hands against his hips, holding his briefs across the center of his cock, and ran her tongue over his sensitive, swollen glans, driving him out of his fucking mind. Using her teeth, she dragged his briefs down, then pulled them off and tossed them to the floor. He rose up, and she pushed him back down.

  “Anxious, aren’t we?” she teased.

  “You make me crazy.”

  A mischievous smile split her lips as she wrapped her warm, slender fingers around his shaft, pulling a groan from his lungs. He greedily watched her slide that naughty tongue of hers over the bead at the tip and gloss it over her lips.

  “Holy fuck, Gemma.” He reached for her and she leaned out of his grasp.

  “Mine,” she whispered, smiling as she swallowed him to the back of her throat and began working her hand and mouth in quick succession.

  His head fell back to the mattress, eyes shut. He rocked into her fist, deeper into her mouth. She kept him nice and slick, working him with a fast, tight grip.

  “That’s it, baby. God, your mouth is lethal.”

  She lifted her head, releasing his cock to the cooler air, and rolled her hand over the head, then stroked his shaft again. She used tight stokes, easing as she rolled her hot, wet palm over the head, then repeating the scintillating torture, bringing him right to the verge of release before easing again. He opened his eyes, and the daring look in hers told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

  “Take your clothes off,” he commanded.

  She shook her head, her eyes narrowing, her hair billowing around her beautiful face. “Not yet.”

  She dragged her tongue from base to tip. Scooting lower, so she was lying between his legs, she licked his balls, still fisting his cock, working him into a frenzy. She knew how much he loved that, and if she didn’t fuck him soon, he was going to come all over her.

  He tangled his hands in her hair, holding her mouth to his balls and watching her love him. Her skin was flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and the challenge in her eyes made her even sexier. God, he loved her. He loved her so damn much he felt it in his bones. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. She reared up on her knees, holding his gaze as she wiggled out of her panties. When she pushed his chest again, he went down willingly and reached between her legs.

  She shook her head and brought his hand to her mouth, placing several openmouthed kisses to his palm, leaving it wet. Then she wrapped his hand around his cock and straddled his thighs. Before he could protest, she sucked two of her fingers into her mouth and brought them between her legs. Holy shit.

  Truman didn’t jerk off in front of women. Ever. He never let other women touch him the way he let her. He fucked them. Then again, everything he did with Gemma was different—and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

  “My good girl has just become a dirty girl.”

  “Your good girl only wants to be your dirty girl.”

  She was a visual feast as she fingered her pussy and brought her other hand to her breast, stroking and caressing while staring daringly into his eyes. She licked her lips and dropped her eyes to his fist, watching as he worked his cock. When she brought her wet fingers to her clit, her head tipped back, and he nearly blew his load. He rose off the mattress, still fisting his cock, and tangled his hand in her hair, crashing their mouths together in a brutally ruthless kiss as her orgasm claimed her. Her tongue stilled. A long, pleasure-filled moan rumbled up from her lungs into his. Heaven. Sheer heaven. He held her trembling body tight, kissing her more tenderly as she came down from the peak, and swept her beneath him. She smiled up at him with that sweet, sinful look that hit him square in the center of his chest every damn time.

  “You’re mine, sweet girl. Only mine.”


  Her hands circled his neck as their bodies joined together, sealing their late-night promises with kisses and loving each other like tomorrow might never come.

  They lay together for a long while afterward, their skin still moist from their lovemaking, their fingers intertwined. When Gemma got up to use the bathroom, Truman refused to let go.

  “I need to pee,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “I’ve waited my whole life for you. I never want to let you go.” He gathered her closer.

  “God, I love you.” She pressed her lips to his.

  He drew back, searching her eyes to see if she realized what she’d said, but she was looking at him like he’d taken away her favorite lollipop.

  “Tell me again,” he said quickly.

  Her brows knitted.

  “You said you loved me,” he reminded her, hoping she wasn’t going to take it back.

  She laughed and pressed both hands to his cheeks. “Haven’t I said it before? Gosh, Tru. I feel like I’ve been saying it for weeks. I love you. I love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars. I love you more than chocolate ice cream and fairy wings. I love you and I love the kids so much I—”

bsp; He pressed his lips to hers, overwhelmed by how deeply and completely her love touched him. When he deepened the kiss, she melted into him.

  “That’s my favorite thing,” he said, kissing her again. “I love when you go completely boneless, like my kisses wreck you.”

  “Mm.” She kissed him again. “Your kisses complete me, but they never wreck me.”

  He liked that even more. After a few more kisses, she put on his T-shirt, another thing he adored, and went into the bathroom. Lincoln’s whimper came through the monitor and Truman got up.

  Gemma peeked into the bedroom and said, “I’ve got him.”

  Truman sat on the edge of the bed listening to her voice come through the monitor. “Hey, sweet boy. Ohmygod.” Her voice escalated, and he jumped to his feet, stepping into his briefs as he hurried out the bedroom door.


  He was already beside her, both of them marveling at Lincoln, who was sitting up in his crib. Sitting up.

  “He’s sitting!” she whispered excitedly, and grabbed Truman’s hand.

  Seeing Lincoln sit up for the first time was overwhelming. How could something so little feel so big and mean so much? He put an arm around Gemma and kissed the side of her head.

  Lincoln wiped his eyes with his tiny fist, teetering a little. Gemma and Truman both reached into the crib, but Lincoln wobbled, then settled on his butt and yawned.

  “Oh my gosh,” Gemma whispered, so as not to wake Kennedy, who was snuggled up in her new Tinker Bell pajamas, hugging the stuffed Pooh doll Dixie had given her.

  “Tru, your boy’s growing up.”

  Our boy’s growing up. He gave her a chaste kiss to keep the words from slipping free and lifted Lincoln out of his crib.

  “We should have gotten a picture,” Gemma whispered.

  Truman didn’t need a picture. He knew he’d never forget the look of love in Gemma’s eyes, the sight of Lincoln sitting up for the first time—or the feeling of his heart expanding inside his chest at how very blessed he was to have so much love under one roof.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ONE OF THE things Gemma loved most about Peaceful Harbor was how the community came together for holidays and events. The Halloween parade was one of her favorites. Children and parents alike were allowed to join in the march down Main Street and around the harbor. Truman and Gemma discussed the event being too much for Kennedy, but she was so excited about the idea of it, they decided to try. Tonight Crystal and the Whiskeys joined Gemma and Truman for the kids’ first Halloween adventure. They all dressed up like characters from the storybook Truman had made for Kennedy, and Kennedy was delighted at the outcome. The girls had dressed at the boutique. Queen Dixie’s dress was bright red, while Gemma’s was green, and Crystal dressed as Snow White, which was hilarious since she was definitely a dark princess at heart. After taking far too many pictures of their group, they headed into town. It was still light out when they reached Main Street, where crowds had already begun forming.

  Kennedy gripped Gemma’s hand tighter.

  Prince Truman held Lincoln, who was dressed as Winnie the Pooh, thanks to Truman’s love for his little girl. He must have sensed Kennedy’s discomfort, because he moved closer, putting a protective arm around Gemma. Before she realized what was happening, Bullet, Bones, and Bear, each dressed in full biker Lost Boy garb, fell into formation like bodyguards. Bullet walked behind them, scanning the crowd with his deep-set eyes. Bones moved beside Dixie, sandwiching her between him and Truman. Dixie was at least five nine, but she looked small flanked by the two formidable men. Bear took up residence beside Crystal. A bookend to Bones on the other side of the group. It was an oddly safe and wonderful feeling to know the kids were so well protected. The fact that Gemma had grown up feeling oppressed by the people watching over her wasn’t forgotten. The difference—and it was a huge one—was that these were friends who genuinely loved Kennedy and Lincoln as much as they loved each other. In the few seconds it took for them to effectively surround their charges, Gemma realized how strong a family Kennedy and Lincoln now had. And as she glanced up at Truman, who leaned in for a kiss, she realized she had that big, warm family, too. And it struck her that her own family would have snubbed their noses at such an event.

  “When I have kids, I want you to write their fairy tales,” Dixie said to Truman. Her red hair was piled on her head and a few tendrils had sprung loose.

  Truman laughed. “I think you can find better fairy tales than mine.”

  “Only if you mean ours,” Gemma said, and tipped her head up for a kiss, admiring how handsome he looked in his costume. Then she said to Dixie, “I’m trying to convince him that we should write stories together and he should illustrate them.”

  Kennedy had insisted on reading her storybook every night. Truman had not only illustrated the entire book, but he and Gemma had written the story out as well, so she could read it to Kennedy, too. It was a lovely story about family and friendship, and Gemma wondered if it was what Truman had always dreamed of, like she had, or if he had made it up solely for his little girl. Either way, she loved how he thought of everything for the kids. He worried over every little detail, like the Lost Boys stealing kids in Peter Pan and the father dying in The Lion King. He picked apart movies and books, afraid something would spark an underlying fear in the kids he hadn’t yet discovered. Kennedy had never once asked for her mother. It was a heartrending realization to think about what that meant. While creating his own fairy tale might seem a bit overprotective to others, Gemma knew that everything he did was driven by love, not by the need for control.

  Bear draped an arm over Crystal’s shoulder.

  “Um. Hello? There might be single guys here,” Crystal complained, trying to move out from under his grasp.

  Bear shot her a look that clearly told her not to bother trying to dislodge herself from his grip—and something much hotter that caused Gemma to shoot a curious look at her best friend. Crystal rolled her eyes, but there was a secret message there meant only for her. People said blood was thicker than water, but Gemma believed true friendship was thickest of all.

  Kennedy slowed, and when Gemma reached down to lift her into her arms, she saw fear in the little girl’s eyes. What was she thinking? This was far too much for Kennedy. She picked her up and stopped walking, and the others stopped with her, the men’s eyes actively searching the crowd. Only Truman’s eyes remained on his little girl and Gemma.

  “She’s frightened. It’s too much,” Gemma said.

  Truman nodded with a serious expression. “Turn it around.”

  Like an army, the group turned. Crystal wasn’t as quick on the uptake and Bear turned her by the shoulders and put his arm around her again.

  “Do you mind?” Crystal said, but there was a sultry undertone to her words.

  “Yeah, actually, I do,” Bear said with a smirk. “We’re heading back. Kennedy’s scared.”

  “Oh.” Crystal leaned forward and looked at Gemma. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t thinking. She’s not ready for crowds like this.” Gemma kissed Kennedy’s forehead, holding her tightly as they headed back toward their cars.

  “Twick or tweet?” Kennedy asked.

  “Do you still want to go trick or treating, princess?” Truman asked.

  Kennedy nodded.

  Gemma looked questioningly at Truman, whose jaw had gone tight.

  “She’s never done it before,” Gemma reminded him. “The next block is a residential street. We could try a few houses and see how she does. She’s excited over the promise of candy even though she’s nervous.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “Sometimes you’ve got to let her take a chance. I took one, and look how things turned out.”

  A smile lifted Truman’s lips and he whispered, “What if it scares her?”

  “Look around you, Tru. She’s got an army of family to help her feel safe again.”

  Truman shifted his gaze to the men one by one. A telepathic messa
ge seemed to pass between them, and without another word, they headed toward the residential street.

  IT TURNED OUT what Kennedy really wanted was for Truman to go trick or treating while she waited on the sidewalk, safely surrounded by the rest of their group. Truman had never gone trick or treating before, but that didn’t stop him from standing on the front stoop of a house with Lincoln in his arms, towering over a handful of children.

  The older woman who answered the door glanced at Lincoln and smiled up at Truman. “I don’t think that little guy has enough teeth to eat candy yet. A little old to trick or treat, aren’t you?”

  “Are you ever too old to make your kids happy?” He pointed to Kennedy, safely nestled in Gemma’s arms, with his friends standing sentinel around them.

  The woman handed him a few candy bars. “You’ve got yourself a nice-looking family. Happy Halloween.”

  Warmed by her observation, Truman thanked her and joined the rest of his family.

  “Here you go, princess.” He opened his hand, revealing the candy bars.

  Kennedy’s eyes widened and she grabbed a candy bar. “More?” The r was soft. “Them get candy?”

  In unison everyone denied their need for a sweet treat, and Kennedy’s smile grew bigger. “Mine?”

  “Yes, princess. That one’s yours,” he said, pleased and mildly worried that at her young age she thought of others so quickly. His mind spun back to the first night he’d found her, when Lincoln was crying and she’d patted his back, as if she knew no one else would. He wondered if she’d always think of others first because she’d learned at such a young age that she needed to care for Lincoln, the same way he’d known to protect Quincy. While he loved that she shared so easily, when he thought of what her life must have been like before he found her, sadness slammed into him.

  He helped her open the candy and she took a bite. “More?” she asked again, around a mouthful of chocolate, and everyone laughed.

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