I’ll Always Be With You (Lancaster Prep Book 4)

WEST IS POSITIONED between my thighs, his mouth hovering above my panties, a filthy smile curling his lips after he just said he wanted me.

I will never grow tired of hearing him say that.

“But I wanted to give you—pleasure,” I finish somewhat lamely, feeling a little silly that I’m even complaining. If this is what he wants, who am I to tell him no?

“This gives me pleasure, Carolina.” He bends down, resting his face against the front of my panties. His breath is hot, and when he exhales, it’s like he touched every single part of me, lighting me up inside. “Just—let me do this.”

I give in without a word, a sigh leaving me when he nudges my panties with his nose, inhaling my scent. He hooks his fingers into them, slipping beneath the thin fabric, brushing my skin. It’s a barely-there touch, not insistent or hard or purposeful at all. More light teasing and, oh God, it sends a streak of lightning straight to my clit, tumbling down my legs and curling my toes.

He gently skims his fingers across the top of my pussy and I suck in a breath. It’s been far, far too long since we’ve done something like this. I tilt my head down, watching as he studies me with utter fascination, his gaze fixed on his fingers moving and shifting beneath my panties.

Just before he shoves them aside and leans in, he braces his hand on my belly, spreading me open and teasing my clit with the tip of his tongue. A moan leaves me and I try to lift my hips, seeking more of his mouth and tongue, but his fingers clamp tighter around my hips and I’m unable to move.

“West,” I cry, but he shushes me, his mouth moving over my skin, his tongue licking every crevice, every fold, every bit of my flesh as he spreads me wide, his lips in constant motion. My entire body trembles as he continues his torment, and when he shifts his hands to rest beneath my thighs, pushing me up, I go willingly.

Until my ass is in the air, still covered by my now stretched-out panties.

“We need to get rid of these,” he says, removing them from my body with efficiency. I’m in a daze, the pleasure swarming me, making me dizzy, and when he leans back in to lick at my pussy yet again, he moves farther down, his tongue teasing my ass, the ridged skin there.

A gasp leaves me and I freeze, my body stiff. He goes still as well, waiting. Ready to stop if I tell him to, I’m sure.

But I don’t tell him to stop. My body slowly relaxes, a sigh leaving me when he licks me there again and I close my eyes, losing myself to the pleasure of the forbidden. It feels downright naughty, what he’s doing. Where he’s licking me, and when he slips his fingers inside my pussy, pumping them in and out of my body slowly, I know I’m close.

Already. It takes nothing for the man to make me come and I can’t even be ashamed of it.

I’m in love him. This boy who quickly turned into a man. A man who’s already sold his family’s company and made sure his mother would never have to worry about anything again. A man who chased after me and waited patiently until I eventually came around. A man who gave me a ring to wear on my middle finger so he could see it every time I flipped him off.

A man who tattooed my drawing on his wrist the first night we met. Who wrote words of love and devotion on my skin for me to etch them permanently, so I could look at them forever.

I adore this man so much. I love him. I didn’t know it could be like this. Could feel like this. He adores me. He loves me.

And when he increases his pace, his fingers sliding in and out of my body, his tongue working my flesh, the orgasm sweeps over me out of nowhere. I’m trembling, whimpering, an absolute mess. He pulls away from me and I can hear the rustle of clothing, impatient murmurs while I lie on the bed still shuddering.

West reaches for me and I go willingly, letting him position me until I’m on my hands and knees, my ass in the air. He looms over me from behind, his hands returning to my hips, his cock entering me. I move with him, the sound of our sweaty skin connecting filling the room, his grunts growing louder with his every thrust. He fucks me hard, his fingers digging into my hips, his cock driving deep inside me, hitting a spot that has me seeing stars every. Single. Time.

The orgasm grows, this one bigger. Stronger. His rhythm becomes sloppy, more frantic, his groans louder until finally he slams inside me, holding himself there. I can feel his cock throbbing within my body, just before he spills, flooding me with his semen.

He begins to fuck me again, in short, sharp jabs, moaning with each one, hitting that spot again. And again. The orgasm builds, my stomach clenching, my clit pulsing, until finally it hits, a keening cry leaving me.

West grabs hold of me, lifting me up, his cock still embedded deep inside, my body shuddering as he holds me to him, my back to his front, his fingers curling around the front of my throat, holding me there. He presses his cheek against mine, his mouth moving against my skin as he whispers, “I love you.”

We’re both breathing heavily, in tandem with each other, my pussy clenching around his cock. I feel so connected to him in this moment. Literally and figuratively. We’re melded together, in this together.

Always together.

Forever.

THE NEXT DAY, we stay home, witnessing the merger announcement via social media. Flower arrangements are sent by the dozens congratulating him. A cake, two dozen cupcakes, a charcuterie board and fruit formed into colorful flowers are also included in the gifts various people and businesses sent.

“We can snack on everything they’ve sent you for a week,” I say as he opens the charcuterie board, letting me thumb through the cheeses and meats.

“So far things have been positive,” he says, smiling at me from across the kitchen counter.

“You didn’t think it would be viewed that way?”

“I didn’t know.” He shrugs. “I still have some guilt. This was my father’s legacy, and I know he passed it on to me in the hopes that I would preserve it and carry on. But I never viewed it as a legacy. More like a burden.”

“You were too young,” I remind him.

“I could’ve let someone else take over while I ran amok and did whatever the fuck I wanted. But that didn’t feel right either.” He grips the edge of the counter, his gaze locking with mine. “This felt right. Taking care of my mother, and me. I don’t know shit about running a champagne company. And I could’ve learned—I tried to learn, but being involved in this business never felt like it was me. More like it was something placed upon me.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. My mother said the same thing. I talked to her earlier, when you were in the shower. She said she’s getting a lot of flower arrangements too. Like it’s a funeral.” His expression turns sheepish. “If she’d said that to me a year ago, we both probably would’ve cried. Especially her. But now she can laugh about it. I consider that progress.”

“I’m glad you’re both healing.” I round the kitchen counter, just about to pull him in for a hug when I receive a phone call.

From Sylvie. Who rarely calls. We usually just text.

“Who is it?” West asks. He must notice my confusion.

“My sister.” I answer it, barely able to get out my hello before Sylvie starts babbling incoherently. She’s crying and carrying on, breathing heavy and not making a lick of sense. “Sylvie, calm down. What’s wrong?”

My heart races as she tries to compose herself before she says, “Oh, Carolina. I don’t know how to tell you this but … Mother. She’s gone. She’s dead.”

I lean heavily against the kitchen counter, my knees nearly giving out on me, and West rushes toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist to support me. “What?”

“I’m at the Newport house and she just … she showed up unannounced and she was so scary, Carolina. I’ve never seen her act like that. She was coming for me. Cornering me. Saying the craziest things.”

The last time I saw my mother, we actually got along. Things felt somewhat … normal. Not that our relationship would ever be normal, but I left that lunch not hating her or resenting her.

And now she’s dead.

“Did she hurt you?” I ask. “Are you alone?”

I’ll drop everything and go to her right now if she needs me.

“N-no. She tried to, though. And Spencer is here. He’s with me.” Sylvie is sobbing, her words thick with tears. “She’s always hated me, Lina. She’s wanted to destroy me for years.”

I never understood their relationship, and I’m not sure I ever will, but in this moment, I know that Sylvie is grieving. She’s falling apart and she’ll struggle over my mother’s death. We all will.

But ultimately, for Sylvie, it’s for the best.

Now she’ll be free of our mother’s torment, once and for all.

“Do you want me to come out there?” I ask, leaning my head against West’s chest. “I could leave right now and be there with you.”

“It’s …” her voice lowers and she whispers, “the house is a crime scene. I don’t think you want to come out here.”

“A crime scene?” West stiffens when I say that.

“She fell, Carolina. She fell down the stairs and cracked the back of her skull open. The police are talking to the both of us and making sure everything’s okay. That it was an accident like we said.”

Something like doubt prickles my skin. “Was it an accident?”

“Of course, it was! I can’t believe you would even ask.”

“I’m just making sure, okay?” A sigh leaves me. “Call me when you know more. And when I can see you. Have you called Daddy?”

“Yes. And Whit. They both said they’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m sure they will. It’s going to be okay, Sylvie.” I gentle my tone, feeling sorry for her. She’s crying so hard still. And she’s been through so much. Mostly at the hands of our mother. “You’re going to be okay.”

“You’re right. I know. It’s just so hard. I saw it all happen and …” Another sob, this one ending with a wail, and tears spring to my eyes, hearing how much pain my sister is in.

I can hear a male voice saying her name, talking to her in low tones and then a muffled sound, Spencer’s voice suddenly in my ear.

“Can she call you back later, Carolina? I’m so sorry about your mom. Things are hectic here right now and the police want to speak with us.”

“Are you two going to be okay?” I ask, my fingers curling tightly around my phone.

“We’re going to be all right. Eventually. Whit is on his way out now. Your father is on the phone, trying to take care of things.”

I don’t even know what my father could be taking care of, but I’m glad they’re handling it and not me.

“Okay. Please call me when you can. Or have Sylvie call me. Whit. Whoever.” I feel helpless. Like I should rush out there and be with them, with Sylvie. But I know Spencer will take care of her far better than I ever could.

We end the call and I glance up to find West watching me intently, his hand smoothing up and down my back in a soothing gesture. “Your mom?”

I nod once. “She’s dead.”

“Oh, Carolina.” He pulls me into him, holding me close. I begin to tremble, my entire body shaking, tears spilling from my eyes, down my face. I don’t know how to feel. How to react. I’m numb. Cold. My teeth are chattering and I cling to him, my fingers curling around his shoulders, my tears getting his shirt wet in seconds. “I’m so sorry.”

Sadness leaves me raw and aching, and I quietly marvel that I’m completely overwhelmed with emotion. Something I rarely experience. I handle any difficulty or tragedy with the usual stoic reaction, desperate to keep it bottled in.

This time, at the loss of my mother, a woman I both feared and disgusted, I can’t help but sob the hardest I’ve ever cried.

“It’s okay,” West murmurs against my hair, his deep voice reassuring. “It’s going to be okay.”

If anyone can understand what I’m going through, it’s West. He lost his father. Now I’ve lost my mother.

But at least we have each other.