Free A Silver Lining by Beth D. Carter Page B

he finally took possession of her body.
    "Oh!” she cried, the euphoria returning as he filled her.
    He pulled back only slightly, making sure she was okay, until she flexed her inner muscles and squeezed him. His eyes rolled back, and he thrust again, into her, going deeper.
    Heather met his thrusts with sharp jabs of her pelvis, up and down. Sweat poured from their bodies. Their breathing turned harsh. His thrusts got deeper, harder as he pushed his cock in and out. Heather moaned as his onslaught propelled her up and down in a blur, causing his hands to hold on to her hips to keep her steady.
    "Fuck me, Tristan,” she said through her teeth, the sing of her orgasm sweeping through her. “Oh God! Yes, yes!"
    She fell first. She mewled as the dam burst and her cream ran. Her inner muscles once again flexed, milking the hard cock rooted deep inside her. Tristan let out his own harsh groan as he climaxed with her, pouring himself deep inside.
    "Shit,” he whispered a moment later, his head resting against her naked shoulder. Through his open shirt she felt his heart racing. “I didn't use protection."
    The sensible words snapped her out of her sensual haze. She stiffened in his arms and pulled back far enough to force him to look at her.
    "Don't worry, I'm on birth control, and I'm clean. I get tested regularly,” she told him in a bland tone.
    He frowned. “Regularly? How regularly?"
    "Every couple of months. What about you? Something I should know?"
    He shook his head. She wasn't quite sure if he was answering her, or if he simply had to clear his postclimactic brain.
    "Tristan? Are you clean?"
    "Yes."
    "Good.” She stepped away from him and proceeded to put her clothes on, ignoring the juice that ran down her thigh. In a matter of moments, she had re-dressed. “So, you wouldn't fuck me outside, but you'd fuck me three doors from his. So much for caring about Grandpa's sensibilities."
    And picking up the pieces of her fractured pride, she held her head up as she walked out of the memory closet.
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Chapter Thirteen
    "He hasn't talked to me in three days."
    "Is that the reason you've been reading me that damn book?” Lincoln demanded.
    Heather waved the copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray in front of his face. “This is literature."
    "It's boring. I don't understand a word of it."
    "Look past the words, old man,” she said. “It's about a man who doesn't want to grow old. It's my favorite novel."
    "Bah. Gimme Zane Grey."
    "I'm going to read you this damn book, so shut the hell up!"
    Lincoln raised his eyebrows at her. “I thought you wanted to talk about Tristan."
    She huffed and crumpled a bit as the wind exited her sails. The book thumped back on her lap. “He hasn't talked to me in three days,” she repeated.
    "Were you a bitch to him?"
    "Why is that the first thing you ask?"
    "Why aren't you answering?"
    "I may have said some un-nice words, but he should know I always say un-nice words!"
    His brow arched as he gave her an exasperated look that spoke volumes. She wilted. Her shoulders hunched as she slumped back in the chair.
    "I don't know why I have to fight all the time,” she admitted quietly. “A haze seems to cover my brain, and before I realize what I'm saying, all the bad things just pour out."
    "If you do enough of the bad, then people aren't let down when you fail."
    Her head snapped up. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. For once, her snappy comeback died in midthought.
    "You aren't the only person who's done some stupid stuff,” he admitted, coughing a bit at the end.
    Heather jumped from her chair to bring his glass of water to his lips, helping him drink before wiping his mouth with a tissue.
    "I know all about it, girl,” he whispered through bloodless lips. He looked washed-out, as pale as the ghost he was turning into.
    "Know about what?"
    He opened tired, dull eyes. “I wanted you to come live with me, but your mother refused. Said all you needed was time