“Sure. You said this week is ribs, right? I’m so hungry I could eat half a pig.”
“Oooh, baby. I love it when you talk dirty.”
“And I love a woman in uniform.” She took in my green scrubs.
“Wanna play nurse?”
She lay back on the unmade bed, the sheets and bedspread a tangled mess. “I keep having this sensation.”
“Where?” I asked in my best nurse voice.
“I can’t say. It’s just too embarrassing.”
I placed a hand on her forehead. “Here?”
“No.”
“I should check your heartbeat.” I placed my ear on her chest. “It’s a little fast.”
“It’s connected to that sensation. I think.”
I ran a hand down her side. “Does this make it feel better or worse?”
“Hard to say. The sensation is getting stronger.”
“What about this?” I dotted her stomach with kisses.
“Much stronger.”
I gripped her wrist to monitor her pulse. “This is more serious than I thought.”
“What can you do for me?”
“I think I need to continue my search for the sensation.” I kissed her stomach. “Am I getting hotter or colder?”
“Hotter. Much, much, much hotter.”
I inched downward. “Now?”
“So hot.” She had her eyes pinched shut.
“Tell me, is the sensation more like a fluttering or throbbing?”
I lowered her panties and raked her ginger hair with my fingers.
“It started out as a flutter. Now it’s pulsing.”
“Pulsing, you say?” I tugged her panties down her legs. “Is it in this area?” Noticing she had opened her eyes, I circled a hand over her pussy.
“Yes.”
“I see. This is a serious case, Ms. Mahoney.”
“Is there anything you can do, Nurse Tegan?”
I removed one sock and then the other. “It won’t be a quick fix.” I ran a finger up the inside of her right leg. “I can practically see the pulsing now.” I rested my head on her thigh, admiring the glisten on her pussy lips. “Does this relieve the sensation?” I skimmed my tongue along the surface of the wetness.
She responded with an urgent moan.
I snaked up the side of her body, lying on top of her. Gemma tugged on my top, her intense eyes indicating she wanted it gone, ASAP. Who was I to deny my patient? My bra disappeared soon after.
“I need you,” I whispered in her ear. “I need you right now.”
“You have me. Right now. Tomorrow. And a million tomorrows from now.” Gemma undid the tie to the bottom of my scrubs, slipping her hand under my garments, kneading my ass, tugging me into her.
Again my mouth sought hers, our tongues engaged in a passionate dual. I pulled away, staring into her eyes. “I need to taste you.”
“Not until I taste you.”
“I said it first, and you’re already naked.”
Gemma flipped me onto my back and stripped my bottoms off.
“You cheated,” I laughed.
She cupped my cheek. “Don’t worry. I plan to play fair from here on out.” Gem flipped around, now facing my feet. Her head lowered, and I guided the source of her throbbing sensation to my eager mouth.
Our tongues landed on the other at the same moment, intensifying the sensation of the first lick. I sucked her inside. Gemma slipped a finger into me. A moan escaped both of us.
She penetrated deeply, while circling my clit with her tongue. It was hard to concentrate, but I didn’t want to lose her. Not with her throbbing pussy pressed against my face. I eased two fingers in, gliding them in and out, not in a rush to make her come. Gem took note of my pace and eased up down below, mirroring my desire for a slow-burn fuck.
Moments like these, my senses heightened, taking in her scent. Taste. Moans. Gyrations. A flick of her clit released a gasp. Pushing further inside elicited a thrust of her pelvis. Taking her lips into my mouth warranted an oh, God you feel so good moan.
Soon enough, it took effort to hold her in place. My tongue quickened. My fingers probed as far as they could. She gushed into my mouth. Gemma never let up on her efforts on me, but she was about to come, of that I had no doubt. All she needed was a few deep thrusts and my incessant tongue.
Her body quivered on top of mine, and she flooded my mouth. I hammered deep, and she nearly shot into orbit. I gripped her ass, holding her right in place, not wanting to let up. I hadn’t orgasmed, but was it possible to make her come twice before I reached my destination? Only one way to find out.
If it was, I’d better continue since she was intent on returning the favor. Pronto. She had three or four fingers inside me, and her tongue knew my every wish and desire. When I penetrated her again, her moan practically begged me to stop and not to stop.
I chose the latter.
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe I’m taking you to a family dinner.” I looked over my left shoulder to check my blind spot and merged onto the road leading through the hogback. “All That She Wants” by Ace of Base filtered through the speakers on low.
“Did you always picture yourself living in sin and never telling your folks about us?” Gemma swiveled her head to gauge my reaction.
“You know what I mean. I might be less nervous if they actually knew about us. Now I have to worry about saying something incriminating. Being suave is not my forte. Do I need to remind you about almost taking out the largest fish tank I’ve ever seen when we had dinner with Bernie and Jenny?”
“I still have nightmares about you having an octopus permanently attached to your face.” She tapped her fingertips against her chin. “Let’s see. What could you possibly say wrong this evening? Something like, ‘Gemma said the funniest thing the other night while I was going down on her. What was it again, Gem?’”
I laughed. “Somehow I don’t think that nugget will slip out.”
“Or in.”
I slapped her leg.
“I think when in doubt, the best thing to say would be nothing.”
“Say nothing. Got it. Any other tips, my beautiful redhead?”
“Yes. Don’t call me your beautiful redhead.”
“You think my parents would be able to crack that code?” The road forked at the light, and I veered off to the left.
“Not sure, but it might cause me to do this.” She leaned over and kissed my neck, right behind my ear.
“What if I called you my sexy redhead?”
She pulled back. “Then we’d have to find a secluded spot.”
“I know the perfect place.” I gripped the steering wheel tightly. “But you’ll have to wait. We’re here.”
Gemma studied my house. “This is where you grew up?” She stared at the two-story brick home that blended into the landscape.
“Yeah, why?” I clicked the garage door opener, gunned it, and pulled into my spot in the three-car garage before the door was all the way up. Back in the day, Glen and I used to fight over this spot. Now the garage usually only housed Mom’s Jelly Bean on Wheels.
“I like learning things about you. Not just the things that make you scream out my name.”
“Ha. Every time you come, you have to cover your face with a pillow so you won’t wake the neighbors.” I patted her cheek. “You ready for your first Ferber family dinner?”
“And hopefully not my last.”
I crossed my fingers on both hands. “Here’s to hoping.”
***
Dad stood at the grill, with tongs in his right hand and a Heineken in his left. “I was getting ready to send out a search party. Gemma, what can I get you to drink? Dr. Pepper? Coke? Water?”
“I got it. Where’s Mom?”
“Upstairs. Senior aerobics ran late.” His smile and tone had a hint of sarcasm. Was that part of the problem with them? Her obsession with fitness that started wh
en I was in junior high?
Leaving Gem to fend for herself with the grill master, I went inside to fetch two Dr. Peppers. Mom stood in front of the fridge with her back to me. The carefree attitude she’d exhibited only a few days ago was noticeably gone, and I sensed she was clenching every muscle in her body. Did that mean Barcelona was off the table?
Feeling slightly guilty that was my first thought, I said hey in a friendly tone.
“The prodigal daughter returns.”
“Um, everything okay? Dad seemed a bit off when we arrived.”
She straightened and smoothed the front of her sleeveless blouse. “He’s fine. We’re fine. How are you?” Her smile was anything but reassuring. At least that was normal.
“Good.” I plucked a grape from the bowl on the kitchen island. “My first shift at the hospital went well.”
“That’s great news.”
Her peppiness alarmed me. “And I didn’t have to change one bed pan,” I joked. When I had told my mother about my internship, she cracked I’d be changing bedpans all summer.
“Wonderful.” She waltzed out onto the deck, unfazed by my comment.
I seized two cans of Dr. Pepper and dashed out so Gemma wouldn’t have to deal with the dueling parents on her own. Clearly my mother was having a what the fuck episode, as Glen had coined during his freshman year of high school.
“How are the ribs coming along, Dad?”
He rubbernecked over his shoulder. “Perfect. However, if you’re anything like your mother, you won’t believe me and will have to look for yourself.”
I handed Gemma her drink. “That’s okay. I trust you.”
“And it’s probably wise to keep Tegan away from an open flame. Who knows what will happen?” Gemma popped the top of her drink. Had she missed the vibe, or was she trying to smooth things over?
Dad’s shoulders shook. “Boy, does she have your number.”
“I’ll say,” my mother and I said simultaneously.
Dad flipped some of the ribs over, causing the flame to sizzle, and some smoke billowed upward. He removed half onto a white platter. “Did Tegan ever tell you about the time she played soccer?”
“Oh no,” I groaned, wanting to disappear.
He wheeled about. “Her second to last game of the season, it was extremely windy. One of the girls on the other team booted the ball halfway down the field, and it soared over everyone and headed straight for Tegan, who played defense. I was shouting for her to head the ball. She balled up her tiny fists”—Dad mimicked this—“and jumped up to head it right when the wind changed and the ball dropped like a lead pumpkin, smashing into Tegan’s face, knocking her out.”
“Completely?” Gemma asked.
“Not right away. She staggered back a step, looked at me like it was my fault, and then her legs went limp noodle.” Dad’s hand skimmed the air, imitating how I was flat on my back. “Out cold.”
Gemma turned to me, not sure what to believe.
“I remember getting hit and wobbling, but the next thing I can recollect is sitting in a folding chair with all the parents staring at me. I’ve had nightmares since then.” I laughed. “And the headache didn’t go away for days. Not to mention the swelling in my nose.”
“That was when she retired her cleats.” Dad pulled the rest of the ribs off the grill. “Dinner is served.”
The four of us sat under the tree at the black wrought iron table.
“Wow, this is quite the spread.” Gemma settled into the seat beside me.
Dad puffed out his chest. “There’s potato salad, pasta salad, baked beans, watermelon slices, corn bread with chunks of jalapeño, corn on the cob, and the pièce de résistance.” He placed the rib platter in the center and kissed his fingertips with a flourish. “Magnifico. Dig in.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. “Where’d you get the corn bread?”
Dad feigned being hurt. “I made it.”
“You made corn bread?”
“Yes, much to your mother’s displeasure.”
Ah, that was the source of the argument. Mrs. Healthy hated carbs. I grabbed a chunk. “It’s still warm.” I cracked it open and liberally spread butter, which melted faster than a Popsicle on the surface of the sun. Dad watched me, wide-eyed. I sampled a bite and, half covering my mouth, said, “I’m in heaven. We haven’t had corn bread in I don’t know how long.”
“Glad to see not everyone in the family hates it.”
Gemma, more than likely sensing a domestic tiff bubbling under the surface, said, “Mrs. Ferber what aerobics VHS would you recommend? I’m thinking of buying one.”
This was news to me. Probably to Gem as well.
Mom perked up in her seat. “You should come to one of my classes.”
Gemma pinked. “Not sure I could afford it. My internship doesn’t pay. Although they have no problems running me ragged.”
Mom waved the idea away. “Hogwash. I’d never charge a friend of Tegan’s.”
Gemma, much to my surprise, seemed thrilled. “Really? I’m a runner, but never tried aerobics.”
Mom squinted one eye. “You have the build for it. Do you have a step?”
“You mean to reach things off the top shelf?”
Mom laughed. “No, for class. I’ll get you one. And I bet I can come up with a routine just for you so when you go back to Alfrid you can keep it up. Would you like that?”
Gemma nodded enthusiastically while gnawing on a juicy rib.
“You see, not everyone is afraid of sweat.” Mom directed the statement to me.
“I’m not afraid of sweat. I just don’t think it’s a good look for me.” I smiled sweetly.
Dad caught Gemma’s attention by offering her another rib. “Tegan tells me you’re interning for the football team. Any chance you can get tickets?”
“Dad!”
Gemma shushed me with a flourish of a rib bone sucked clean. “Careful. No need for the Heimlich tonight.” She turned to my father. “I’m sure I can swing some.”
Was that why my father insisted Gemma come? Football tickets? That made much more sense than him accepting Gemma as more than my friend.
“Pass the corn on the cob, please.” My mother’s broad and toothy smile nearly caused my heart to stop.
It was like my parents had switched roles. My mom, the quiet and sulky parent. My dad verbose, keeping the conversation going, and he’d baked corn bread. I’d never known him to cook anything. Did that mean something?
“Dad, how’d you learn to make corn bread?”
He set a stripped rib bone down on a pile of four others and leaned on his forearms. “I’ve been taking cooking lessons.”
“You have?” Mom sputtered several pieces of corn out of her mouth.
“Got tired of frozen meals after the first week.”
“Is that how you plan to win Mom back?” I asked without thinking.
Gem’s eyes grew as if miniature flying saucers buzzed around my head.
“Who says I have to win her back? Maybe it’s vice versa.”
I’d already stepped in it once, so I boldly went all in. “What can she do to win you back?”
“For starters, have a piece of corn bread that I made.” He spoke to her across the table. “Many eons ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, it was one of the first things your mom made for me after we got married. Individual loaves. They were hard as nails, but I still ate my piece.”
Mom laughed. “I thought for sure he’d break a tooth and begged him not to eat it.”
“But you made it for me. And your homemade chili that night was different. Let’s just say the next day wasn’t pretty, if you know what I mean, and I had a flight to London.”
“Ew, Dad!” I plugged my nose.
“You know that saying, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Sometimes it’s just the thought that really counts.” He presented the plate with yellow pieces of bread to Mom.
She rolled her eyes but took one.
Before she could bite into it, Dad cautioned, “Don’t forget the butter. They go together like—”
“Bread and butter,” I deadpanned.
“I was going to say two peas in a pod, but your way works.” He winked at me.
Mom slathered butter onto her slice and took a healthy bite. “Good thing I’m teaching two classes tomorrow.”
He shook a finger. “No complaints. What do you say, Tegan? Want to take a cooking class with me this summer? I’ll pay.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Everyone should learn how. I’m starting a Thai class this Thursday.”
I licked my lips. “Sure, it’ll be fun.”
He playfully stuck his tongue out at my mom. “Not everyone hates cooking.”
Mom’s facial expression was difficult to read. Was she happy Dad and I would be spending time together? Or threatened he was still taking classes? Did that mean he had no intention of moving back home? Although, now that they didn’t live together, they got along better, even with the corn bread kerfuffle. Before, it had taken days to shove it under the rug.
My father, either undeterred or not noticing, rubbed his hands together. “And now for the dessert I made.” He tossed his napkin onto the table and stormed inside.
“Cooking lessons?” I lifted my brows.
“The man never ceases to amaze me.” Mom sipped a Diet Coke from the can.
Before I could ask if that was good or bad, Dad returned with strawberry shortcake.
“Was this the first dessert Mrs. Ferber made for you?” Gemma was getting into the spirit.
He placed the tray with four individual servings on the side table. “Actually, it was Tegan’s favorite when she was a kid. She went through a phase when she obsessed about the color red. All her clothes were red. She even insisted on eating all things red: strawberries, raspberries, watermelon, red Jell-O—couldn’t keep her mouth away from the color. She even tried to eat a red Lego.” He held a can of whipped cream aloft. “Now, who would like some?”
My hand sliced the air.
He circumvented the table, firing off whipped cream with precision. When he resettled into his seat, he raised a spoon and motioned for us to join. “On three. One. Two. Dig in!”
Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2 Page 34