He puffed his chest and smiled. “I want to look like this.”
“I’ll boil you some eggs.”
“If I never saw another boiled egg, it would be too soon.”
I wondered what it was like for him to be in jail, but was afraid to ask. My guess was that there would be several things that he either learned to love or detest while he was incarcerated. Learning what they were, I supposed, would take time. If he chose to, he’d reveal them when he was comfortable.
The process would take time.
“The last thing I need to ask is how many people do you think will come from the family business. We need to make sure we’re okay for seating, and I need to get the invitations sent out.”
“I made a list,” he said, his mouth curling into a smirk. “In my spare time.”
“So, you’ve got an idea how many?”
“I know exactly how many.”
“Okay. I’ll need to get their names and addresses.”
“Seventy-one,” he said. “And I’ll have the addresses for you by tomorrow.”
“Seventy-one?” I asked, shocked at the number.
He nodded. “Seventy-one.”
My eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Did you expect more?”
I expected much less. By my calculations, we would have roughly three hundred people at the wedding.
“No. Not more.”
“Is that too many?”
I had no idea the family’s business consisted of so many people. “Is that just your...your employees?”
“Wives, girlfriends, a few children,” he said. “To pay their respects.”
“No,” I said. “It’s fine. I just needed to know. We’ll have plenty of room.”
The thought of a huge wedding excited me, even if I didn’t know everyone in attendance. While I silently pondered the seating arrangements, he sat across from me and cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
I looked up.
“The bride’s family sits on one side, and the groom’s family on the other. Right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to change that. I want half the people on one side, and half on the other. Are you willing to do that?”
“Why?”
My mouth asked the question before my mind had a moment to think about it. While waiting for him to answer, I figured out why. Or so I thought.
“I want—for Michael. I want there to be...it’s just what I want,” he stammered. “Can we do that?”
I nodded eagerly. Michael’s lack of family was something I had considered, but had not resolved. My father’s idea was a perfect solution to a problem that I was afraid was going to go unresolved.
I stood. “I love you.”
He smiled. “I love you, too. I want this day to be special.”
I was going to marry the love of my life, and my father was going to give me away. How could it not be special?
He walked around the corner of the island and gave me a hug.
“It will be,” I said. “It will be the one of the best days of my life.”
Chapter Nineteen
Michael
My focus, rightfully so, had shifted from Anthony’s trial to the woman I loved. There was no one on earth that meant more to me than Terra, and reminding her of that was an important part of my day, each and every day.
She walked into the living room and picked up the remote control. As she sat down beside me on the couch, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder.
“Do you mind turning it off?”
Music was something I found soothing, regardless of the time of day. Nonetheless, I pressed the pause button on my phone’s music streaming application.
“Done.” I tossed my phone to the side.
“Thank you.”
She was wearing velour designer sweats and a tee shirt. The clothes combined with the ponytail she had her hair pulled into made her look playful and cute.
“You look adorable,” I said.
With her interest focused on the television, she didn’t even bother to look at me.
“Thanks,” she mouthed.
I shot her a playful glare. “What are you doing?”
“Shhh.” She stared at the TV. “The Bachelor.”
“What?”
“Shhh. The Bachelor. It’s coming on.”
I gave her a look. “Is that one of those ridiculous—”
“It’s not ridiculous.”
“What is it?”
“It starts out with one guy and about thirty women. Every week, he kicks some of them off the show until there’s only two left, and then he picks one of those two, and he proposes to her.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “One of the girls he met on the TV show?”
She waved toward me. “Shhh.”
“One of the girls he met on the show? He marries her?”
“Yes!” She let out a heavy sigh. “Now be quiet.”
I looked her up one side and down the other. The love, lust, and compassion that had been absent in our relationship during Anthony’s incarceration was now flowing through me like a river.
I shifted my eyes from her legs to her face. “Take off your pants.”
“I’m not wearing pants. They’re sweats,” she said, still focused on the show.
“Take them off.”
“Be quiet. I will when the show’s over.”
I inched my way to her side, reached for the waist of her sweats, and, despite her lack of assistance, pulled them down to her ankles. As I tugged them past her feet, she voiced her complaint.
“Just wait until this is over.”
The thought of fucking her while she watched the show became a turn-on, and before I knew it, I was as rigid as a steel rod.
I stood, unbuckled my belt, and pushed my boxers down my thighs. With her eyes glued on the television, she sat in her underwear, unaware of my near-nakedness.
“Do you know why Canadians do it doggy style?”
“What?” she asked without looking at me.
I kicked my boxers to the side. While I gripped my cock in my fist, I repeated myself. “Do you know why Canadians like to fuck doggy style?”
“Um. No, why?”
“So they can both watch the hockey game.”
“That’s cute, hun.”
I cleared my throat, which gathered her attention for a split second, but it didn’t last. After her eyes returned to the television, she must have realized what she’d seen.
Her eyes shot to me.
“Jesus,” she gasped. Her eyes dropped to my cock-filled hand. “Michael.”
“Get up,” I demanded.
The tone of my voice was such that she knew standing was in her best interest. With the remote clenched tight she stood and pushed her panties to the floor.
“Now, face the TV and bend over,” I said.
She positioned herself half the distance between the edge of the couch and the television, and bent at the waist. With her ass hiked high in the air, her gorgeous little pussy was positioned perfectly for me to do my dirty work.
I lowered my mouth even with her ass and blew a breath between her legs.
“Give me some room. I’m going to suck your clit.”
“Oh God.” She spread her legs a little and planted her feet firmly on the floor. “Okay.”
It was all the invitation I needed.
I buried my face between her legs and licked her from bottom to top, repeatedly. In no time, she was soaked. She was moaning with each stroke of my tongue, and after a few seconds, she began writhing around.
“Hold still, you little fucker. I’m going to show you a little
trick, and it’s not going to take me two and a half minutes, either,” I said with a hint of sarcasm.
I wedged her clit between my upper and lower lip and flicked it with my tongue until she was inching her way across the floor.
I gripped her hips, pulled her pussy against my face, and attacked her clit with my tongue. In a matter of seconds, she had an orgasm.
And then, another.
I eagerly sucked and licked her clit until she had a third. As her knees began to wobble, I held her hips, straightened my stance, and coughed out a laugh. “Told you.
“Now, tell me what you think of this.” I stepped behind her and guided the tip of my throbbing manhood into her wet folds. I pushed myself into her tight crevice, peering down between the cheeks of her ass while my dick slowly disappeared inside of her. As she gasped for her next breath, I looked up.
She raised her gaze from the floor to the television.
“Now. Watch your show,” I said.
On the screen, a man sat at a bench with one woman, while another stood in wait, anxious to talk to him. The scene changed to more than a dozen women talking about how they each believed that they were the perfect match, and all the bachelor needed to do was have an opportunity to realize it.
I pushed myself into her fully.
“Holy shit,” she gasped.
“Watch your show,” I said flatly.
I gripped her waist and began a rhythmic series of hip movements that forced my entire length in—and out—of her tight pussy.
“Michael, I can’t—”
As she attempted to reason with me, I shoved myself inside of her until my balls were against her clit. The air rushed from her lungs as the tip of my dick bottomed out against a fleshy nub.
Slowly, I pulled my hips back, revealing my shiny shaft one thick inch at a time. As I watched the tip clear her wet lips, I thrust my hips forward, shoving myself in balls-deep.
As the tip once again bottomed out, she dropped the remote on the floor.
“Watch your show.”
“I can’t...concen—I can’t concentrate.”
I increased my pace to a full-on hip gyrating frenzy, fucking her with every inch of dick I possessed.
As the sound of my hips slapping against her ass overcame the voice of the bachelor’s wannabe spouse complaining about her lack of one-on-one time, my focus shifted from Terra’s ass to the television.
My pace slowed slightly. In response, Terra fixed her eyes on the television. Mine followed. Together, we watched The Bachelor’s drama unfold while I continued to fuck her slowly and steadily.
I continued my stiff-dicked onslaught. In a moment, the scene changed. And then, again.
With both of us half engrossed in the television show, and half interested in the sex, we continued to fuck throughout the entire show.
After the rose ceremony, my pace increased until I was where I started. With her hips gripped firmly, I pounded my way into her heart, doing my best to remind her that having sex was something we should be able to enjoy anytime.
My cock swelled, warning me that the end was near. Terra gasped at the increase in girth, bracing herself against the console.
I realized as I looked up that I had fucked her halfway across the living room floor. Feeling accomplished, I gave a few wholehearted thrusts.
“Michael...”
I tightened my jaw and gave a few more.
“Michael...”
Her pussy tightened against my swollen shaft, sending me into a frenzy.
“Here it comes,” I said through clenched teeth.
I erupted inside of her in several bursts. Each one extracted a combination of emotion and euphoria, and did so with such force I felt as if my head was going to explode.
While I bellowed my joy into the room, her breathing became labored. I cradled her weight as her legs went weak, keeping her from falling.
She wailed her pleasure, her pussy clenching my cock even tighter as she reached the height of her orgasm.
After we caught our breath, we both looked at each other at the same time. The television was well into a segment of commercials, and the volume was so loud that it blared into the room like a rock concert.
During our Bachelor fuck-fest, it had gone unnoticed.
“Did you turn that up?” I asked.
She let out a laugh. “I wanted to hear it.”
I laughed out loud.
It was something I liked about Terra, and about our relationship. We could have sex without having it consume us.
Sex hadn’t become secondary to television in our lives, but for a moment, it could be. I enjoyed that about her, and about us.
“I really like that show,” she said.
I shook my head. “It’s ridiculous, but hard to turn away from.”
She cupped her hand between her legs and began to waddle toward the bathroom. Halfway there, she glanced over her shoulder. “Can we do this next week?”
I took a few steps toward her. “Fuck during the show?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sure.”
“I’m in charge of the volume,” she said.
It was a small price to pay. “Sounds good.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too.”
And, I did, with all my heart.
Chapter Twenty
Terra
A knock at the door startled me. No one came to our house without announcing it first, and having someone do so seemed out of place. I tiptoed to the door, all the while fearful that the police would be standing on the other side.
With slight reluctance, I peered through the peephole. Shocked, and pleasantly surprised, I grinned at the sight of my brother Peter standing on the front porch.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. “What are you doing?”
He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He met my gaze and gave a slight smile. “Have you got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s wrong?”
He gave me a dismissive look. “Nothing.”
Something was. I could sense it. I waved toward the living room and stepped aside. “Come in.”
He followed me into the house and flopped down on the couch. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“I have a lot of things to drink. What do you want?”
“Wine?”
“I have sangria. It’s really good. Want some?”
His tired eyes searched the room. “Sure.”
I poured each of us a glass, and carried them to the couch. “Here. So what’s going on?”
He took a drink, and then another. His suit was covered in wrinkles, and it looked like he’d been sleeping in it. I wondered where he’d been, and remembered my mother saying he’d been absent since my father’s incarceration.
“Can I talk to you?” He looked at me. “Like, talk to you without judgment?”
Something was going on. I wanted him to know he could tell me anything. I took his hand, hoping the gesture would offer enough reassurance that he’d tell me whatever he felt he needed to.
“Sure,” I said. “Anything you want. It’ll remain between us.”
His eyes looked uncertain. “Promise?”
I squeezed his hand. “Promise.”
He took another drink, inhaled a deep breath, and then let out a heavy sigh. With it came his revelation. “I’m gay.”
Oh, wow.
Still clutching his hand, I returned a shallow stare. Not one of disbelief, but of relief. I’d wondered on and off if he was gay, but always dismissed my thoughts for one reason or another. His admittance of it was trusting and courageous.
“I’ve wondered,” I said flatly.
He cocked an
eyebrow and looked me up and down. “Really?”
I took a drink. “Uh-huh. I mean. Yeah. Over the years.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, and then let out a laugh. “Maybe because you’re gay? I could just... I don’t know. Tell?”
He laughed out loud, and halfway through his fit of laughter, I joined him. It was something that I hadn’t done in months, and it came easy, at least now that my family was back to normal.
Wine shot out of my nose and dripped on my shirt.
I set my wine aside. “Crap!”
“What?”
I stood up. “Wine shot out of my nose.”
“It feels good to laugh,” he said.
“I was just thinking that.” I walked toward the bedroom. “Give me a second. I need to change.”
While I looked for something to change into, the reality of Peter being gay sank in a little. I wondered what my mother would say, and then, how my father would react. I’d like to think they’d both accept him wholly, regardless of his sexual orientation, but it wasn’t something I felt certain about.
The church’s opinion on homosexuality was odd. Their belief was that homosexuals should never be discriminated against, nor should they be treated any differently from heterosexuals, because homosexuality wasn’t a choice that the person made.
Sexual acts were prohibited, because the Catholic Church didn’t recognize gay marriages. In their eyes, a gay couple having sex was the same as an unwed couple having sex.
I considered what my mother said about her and my father having sex before they were married, and decided I would gently remind her of this if she opposed Peter being gay.
I came from the room eager to talk more about it.
“When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” I asked.
He let out a laugh. “I’m not.”
I sat down. “Why’d you tell me?”
“I had to tell someone. We had a fight. It’s over.”
I was confused. “What’s over?”
“My relationship with Joey.”
He was obviously distraught, but I didn’t immediately feel sorry for him. Maybe because I had no idea that he was in a relationship, it wasn’t natural for me to feel sorrow for his loss.
“What happened?”
He shrugged, and then took a sip of wine. “We got in an argument about things. Mostly about Dad. And then, that was it.”
The Good Boss Page 8