Page 22 of Hideaway Whirlwind
Teagan
After my long nap earlier, I lie wide awake, listening to the hum of the generator outside while the kids slip into their dreams that I hope are much happier than mine. Literally twiddling my thumbs as I wait, I overthink everything that’s happened since meeting Elliott—the way he gently redirected Sydney and Dustin when they argued over who was “winning” the puzzle; the way he didn’t seem to mind when Kendall would tug on his thick beard and asked for presents in her difficult-to-understand baby babble; the way he watches me, and the expectant look he gave me before I shut the bedroom door.
One night apparently wasn’t enough, not with us having to continue being housed by him rent-free until we can move on.Best get to it.At least I know I’ll more than likely leave with another orgasm that will help me fall asleep. Silver linings, and all that.
I would change into Elliott’s flannel again, with as comfy and roomy as it is, concealing my pregnancy, but it’s beyond needing washing at this point. Inside the hall bathroom, I strip my bulky layers and lift the red scissors I nabbed fromthe kitchen junk drawer. Hoping Layla won’t mind or isn’t expecting her clothes to be returned, I cut the slits that were already sewn into the deep, wine-colored gown on the sides a few inches higher so the tight material won’t cling to my hips and belly, though the material is nearly translucent as it stretches taut around my ribs, the bikini-type triangles hardly large enough to cover my nipples.
The woman looking back at me in the mirror once I’m done is unrecognizable from the woman I thought, when I was ten years old, I would grow up to be. The Teagan I dreamed up was supposed to go to middle school with her friends, then play soccer in high school and graduate as valedictorian instead of barely hanging onto survival in the desert, ripped away from everything she once knew and loved, thrust into a community that valued our wombs and never our minds. The woman I dreamed of becoming was supposed to get into a good college on an athletic scholarship and become a radiologist, like Grandpa, or an anesthesiologist—any of the wealthy “ologists”—after, of course, retiring from her wildly successful career as an international movie star. She wasn’t supposed to be married off at fourteen to a wacko zealot who progressively became more intoxicated by his authority over her, fall pregnant at fifteen, and become a mother just after turning sixteen.
That Teagan, against my will, led to this one, in hiding with three kids and another on the way. No degree or successful career, no time to so much as kick a soccer ball around at the park. Family, dead and gone. One that I mourn. The others, I do not. Alone. Yet still clinging to the idea that I can one day find the ability to give my kids the future I once wished for myself.
I let my eyes glaze over when they turn hot and heavy and my heart beats hard in my chest, staring into the middle distance until my dark memories are pushed out and I can uncurl my fingers, having dug my short, jagged nails into my palms. I’ll do whatever it takes to give my kids everything they deserve. I will.
So there’s one more thingthisTeagan needs to do tonight. And maybe I’ll even have a little fun while I’m at it. Sincefunisn’t something I’ve had much experience with, I keep my fingers crossed as I tiptoe to the end of the hall.
* * *
Elliott has been waiting for me, sitting on the edge of his bed atop his deep, sage green comforter that matches his drapes, facing the door. His tone is clipped when he says, “Teagan,” dropping my nickname, letting me know he’s displeased that it took me so long to come to him.
I know words won’t do me any good, so I push between his knees, able to see more of him with the drapes left open over the window. My stomach is a little more settled after I snuck a second soda, so I start by trailing my hands down his strong, bare shoulders and barrel chest, over his thick belly that disguises the ridged abs beneath, then tug on the waistband of his sweatpants that are tented with his huge, lengthening erection.
Elliott circles my wrists. “Wait. Last night…”
“We need to hurry in case the kids wake up.”
“But last night—” He puffs out a breath of air when I break his hold on my wrists and reach into his pants, stroking his cock when I pull it out. The next time he calls me anything,it’sBirdie, his voice soft and wanting.
Since his bed is so high up off the ground, I only have to bend over a little instead of sinking onto my knees to take the head of his cock into my mouth.
“Birdie,” Elliott moans, moving his hand up my arm to slip his fingers through my ponytail, tugging the hair tie out so my hair falls, then gripping it to hold it out of my face. He leans back on his other hand, and I blink against the moonlight that falls across my eyes over his shoulders.
Widening my mouth and slipping my tongue over my bottom teeth, I take him deeper, the corners of my lips close to splitting around his girth. When his hips jump after I add too much suction, I know this isn’t going to work. My stomach will eventually rebel if I try to take him any deeper, so I let his cock slip from my mouth and place a foot on the running board to climb up.
I squeak when Elliott lifts me straight off the floor and onto the mattress beside him. Assuming he wants to get on top when he leans over me, I lie back, pull my knees up and out while bunching the hem of my night gown over my stomach to hide my bump. But he climbs off the bed altogether and paces halfway across the room, the largest in the house save for the living room.
“We have to talk,” he says with a slight whine at the end when he turns back around, his eyes going to my knees that I bring together.
“Ok…” I say, sitting up on my elbows. “So, talk.”
His eyes dart from my knees to my breasts spilling from the sides of the tiny, silky triangles. “Damn, Mama.”
His use of the termMamain a moment such as this leaves me too stunned to react when Elliott’s knees crash hard on thefloor, and I fall back on the mattress when he grips my still aching hips and yanks my ass to the edge.
Elliott
Any good intentions I had to discuss what happened between us and work an explanation out of Birdie went out the window when she put her mouth on my cock. And as soon as I grabbed hold of my lust, putting physical distance between us, my control went right out the window, too, when I laid eyes on the supple swells of her tits, teased into oblivion by the sliver of her nipples not concealed by the top of her nightgown.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to how utterly fucking blessed and cursed I feel when I place her little bare feet on my shoulders and turn my head to kiss the inside of her right ankle. I drag my lips up and up and up her leg, breathing hard as I intermittently rub my cheek against her silky skin, especially where she’s the softest, plushest along her inner thighs.
“Elliott?”
“Hmm?” I nuzzle my nose at the crease between her thigh and pussy, torturing myself, wanting to drag out this experience for as long as possible, savoring the feminine scent of her before I get my first taste.
“Elliott,” she says more insistently.
I roll my eyes up, losing my breath completely when she drops her knees out as far as they’ll go and spreads her pussy lips with her first and third finger, pressing the pad of her middle finger against her clit.
“Right here,” she says.
