Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I gasped, almost unconscious from the pleasure coursing through my body. I was barely coherent and answered without thinking.
“I’ll never leave you …” I breathed. Liam orgasmed at the words, a guttural cry of “Wildflower” escaping his lips as his hips drove home, unleashing a wild spray of sperm into my pussy. I clenched around him, my own climax overtaking me as we coupled, our bodies trembling and shaking, his cock buried deep in me, my pussy hungry for more semen.
He continued to grind against me as his balls emptied, shooting his life force deep into my womb. Gently, I ran a small hand between us and squeezed his balls, helping him empty into me.
“Oh Wildflower,” he groaned into my neck, burying his face in my hair as his cock dripped, his big body relaxed on top of mine. He felt so good and so right that I almost cried then and there, knowing that we were destined to part ways.
“Liam, I love you,” I said gently, looking into his eyes.
“Wildflower, you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that,” he said roughly. “I know I’ve spoken those words to you, but I’d never heard you say them in return,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I was hoping that after we were married, I could convince you, show you that I love you so much that you’d say them to me.”
“Oh Liam,” I said, cupping his face in my hands. “I’ve always loved you, I’ve never stopped loving you,” I confided, gazing deeply into his blue eyes. I wanted to remember these eyes for as long as I lived, the way they penetrated my soul.
“And I’ll never let you go …” he rumbled, his arms drawing me close. My heart did break then because I knew I’d be taking Georgie and leaving the man I loved, starting a new life without him.
18
Alison
I swallowed a lump in my throat, tears pooling in my eyes as I looked down at my son.
“Mama,” he said, a chubby fist extended towards me, offering me a wildflower he’d picked from the lawn.
“Thank you baby,” I said softly, taking the blossom from him. He looked so much like his father that I was overcome with emotion again. His big blue eyes were the same shade as Liam’s, the raven hair the same inky black.
I looked down at my belly. I hadn’t started to show yet, but there was an unmistakable curve that hadn’t been there four months ago. Just four months ago I’d almost married Liam …
I shook my head, the memories overwhelming. Our ill-fated wedding was best forgotten. The way we’d been so hopeful, so loving, only to have our future dashed when that bitch Sabrina burst in with my birth certificate, declaring that we were step-siblings. It was true. Liam and I were siblings through marriage, even if not biologically related, and we were prohibited from being legally married in the State of New York. Shamefully, I’d fled after that, taking my boy with me, hoping to escape the mess that was my life.
But unknowingly, I was pregnant again. Liam was a father for a second time, and the prospect filled me with fear, but also glowing, incandescent joy. If I was to have two reminders of the man I loved, then I would gladly welcome the new addition to my life.
But right now, the going was tough, even if Georgie didn’t know it yet. I’d brought my son with me to the far reaches of Alaska, hoping that no one could find us here. It was summer still, so the days were still fair and bright, but soon winter would descend and we’d be surrounded by darkness.
My journey here had been tough. After a plane flight with my squalling son, I’d landed in Anchorage, not sure where to head next. An ad in the paper for short order cooks had directed me to a town called Kilukut, an Eskimo word for Paradise. I’d liked that. It was a Paradise far away where I could raise my son.
I’d splurged on a cab to take us to the rooming house in Kilukut and offered myself as a cook to the proprietress. The old lady was a sweet thing, with dyed red hair and perceptive eyes. She took in my bawling boy and offered him a glass of milk during our impromptu interview.
“So you can cook?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” I’d said softly. “Hamburgers, chili, soups, anything that will keep you warm in the cold of winter,” I said. I was handy at the stove. Being a latchkey kid had taught me take care of myself early on.
“Well, this rooming house boards twenty men, and we’re filled to the rafters right now,” she said. “It’s oil season, and we’ve got men from all over working the rigs, hungry as can be. You think you can keep up?” she said doubtfully.