by Lucy Score
I thrust into her grip, driving my fingers into her sweet pussy in time.
Our breathing was hard and fast. Her eyes were glassy and half closed. She opened wider for me, inviting me deeper, and I thrust in to the knuckle, holding her there.
“Jonah,” her teeth chattered. “I want—I want you,” she hissed.
I could feel her muscles tightening around my fingers, felt that ache echoed in my own groin. Fingers and hands were good. But we both desperately needed more. It was biology. Pure, raw, primal.
I pulled out of her and took her hand away from my erection. “Hold on to me,” I instructed.
She did as she was told, slipping her hands behind my neck, linking her fingers.
I settled my hips between her legs, the tip of my cock brushing the wet, welcoming folds.
Impatient now, Shelby bucked against me, and I reveled in the feel of my cock slipping over her clit.
Leaning in, I allowed myself another lick at her breast. And when she bowed back, when her knees fell open, I drove myself into her.
Our shouts of triumph, of awe, caught on the rain. I was inside her, gripped by her slick, velvety flesh. Muscles quivering, I dug my toes into the ground so I could stay buried inside.
Her nails bit into my back, and she chanted words, nonsensical sounds, softly as she fought for air. This was Nirvana. This moment of two bodies joining after the teasing, before the fulfillment. This was a recognition of sameness.
She flexed, tightening around me, and I had to move then. Withdrawing, I paused. Savored. Then decadently slid back inside, needing to feel her close like a fist around me.
“How does it feel?” she whispered.
“So good, Shelby. So fucking good,” I promised her, moving again. Loving the drag of her flesh over mine. Was it special because it had been so long? Or was it because it was Shelby? My roommate. My client. My friend.
“Don’t you dare stop or come to your senses,” she pleaded with a laugh.
I flinched as the laugh had her tightening further. Sweat already dotted my forehead, and I knew I couldn’t hang on forever. I kept my thrusts measured, controlled. Focusing on the beauty of the joining even as the need to go harder, faster, clawed its way up my throat.
She hitched her legs higher up on my hips and bucked into me.
I wanted to give her what she needed, what she craved, what she chased. I just hoped I could hold on long enough. I thrust harder, and she murmured her approval against my neck. Her breasts, those lush curves, were flatted to me, and I wished I could taste them again. I settled for slipping a hand between our bodies and caressing that soft skin, that taut nipple.
She liked it.
“Yes, Jonah. Oh, yes!” She was breathless.
And I was pummeling into her now, pinning her to the forest floor with fast, vicious strokes of my cock. But she welcomed the speed, the need, the greed. Encouraged it with the way those silky inner muscles danced over the veins of my cock.
She was leading me toward a climax I wasn’t sure I could survive.
I needed to get her there first.
With regret, I abandoned her breast and slid my hand lower. As I thrust into her like a warrior, an animal, my thumb slicked over her sensitive bud. Her body tensed, every muscle and her breath stopped.
I bit at her neck, her shoulder, still thrusting, still circling that beautiful little clit. And then she came back to life under me as her orgasm detonated.
I felt her come, closing fist-tight around my cock. Her hips undulating to chase down the waves that wracked her body. I couldn’t hold out a second longer. As she clamped down on me again, I felt it race up my spine, stabbing through my balls. And then I was coming harder than I ever had before into her as she teased and squeezed every drop of my release from me. She was still coming in gentle, distant pulses when I collapsed on her, sealing our orgasms together.
32
Jonah
T here are few things more awkward than having sex for the first time and then walking in on your own surprise party.
I was pretty sure what Shelby and I had been up to was written all over our faces—and tangled up in her hair, judging from the dried pine needles that were still shaking free.
“Surprise!” My mother, the Bodines, the Tuckers, and the Thompsons bellowed when we climbed off our bikes.
“Well, there goes Round Two,” Shelby said under her breath.
Once the rain broke, once we’d dragged our wet clothes back on, we’d pedaled like hell for home. For a shower and a second shot at each other, this time in a bed.
I stared longingly at the front door. Between it and us were over a dozen people, a pig, and a puppy, ready and waiting to celebrate my birthday.
Shocked, I slapped a stupid smile on my face and waded in to accept the congratulations. I could tell by the smug look my sister was shooting in my direction that she had guessed exactly what Shelby and I had been up to.
After accepting the first round of congratulations, I escaped for a five-minute shower during which I thought of nothing but how it felt to be inside Shelby. I turned the faucet all the way to cold until my hard-on finally gave up. Apparently now that the dry spell was over, I was going to be walking around sporting wood all day every day.
By the time I made it back to our front lawn, the party was in full swing.
They’d certainly put quite the effort into it. Someone had strung lights around tree trunks. Portable picnic tables were set up covered with white tablecloths. Gibson was manning the grill, Billy Ray sniffing around his feet with Katherine the pig.
And Shelby, well, Shelby was relaxing in a hammock with a lemonade just on the outside of the action. I made my way to her and gave the hammock a nudge.
She opened one eye. “Shower free?” she asked.
My back to the festivities, I trailed a finger up the inside of her thigh. There were so many things I still wanted to do to her, with her.
“It is. Did you know about this?” I asked.
“Do you think I would have insisted we come back here for Round Two if I knew there was a yard full of people waiting for us? This is the most disappointing surprise party I’ve ever been to,” she teased.
“We’ll make up for it tonight,” I promised.
“What’s that they say about a Bootleg party?” she mused. “Ain’t no party like a Bootleg party?”
“’Cause a Bootleg party don’t stop,” I finished. “But this one will stop. At a reasonable hour, too, if I have to fake food poisoning to get them out of here.”
“I’m looking forward to your fake explosive bowel issues later tonight,” she teased.
She held a hand out to me, and I pulled her out of the hammock. “I’m going to shower. Go make nice with your guests before we kick them out.”
“Oh, hey, Shelby?”
She paused.
I took a step closer to her so no one could overhear. “I’m going to make sure I’m the most memorable summer fling you’ve ever had in your life,” I told her.
She grinned and bit her lip. “I just might hold you to that.”
Shelby waved over her shoulder, and I wished more than anything that I was following her up those stairs.
“So? Were you surprised?” My mother and Scarlett approached, looking smug.
“Shocked,” I said. “I thought this was going to be a quiet cookout.” That didn’t start for a few more hours and ended at a reasonable hour.
“Your mama was telling me how you never wanted a party or a fuss over your birthday. Why, Jenny, did I tell you that he neglected to tell us that it was his birthday last year?” Scarlett said, dishing the dirt.
“You mentioned that,” Mom said, winking at me.
“And I just couldn’t let another year pass without us giving Jonah a proper birthday party. He’s only owed thirty-one of them,” Scarlett said.
It was oddly sweet. Still, incredibly inconvenient. But I guessed I could put forth the effort to appreciate their work.
When Shelby returned, in a frothy sundress that teased the eye as it floated around her thighs, I was engaged in a horseshoes battle with my brothers.
Someone had turned the music on to, what was that? Eighties rock? I supposed my birthday got a reprieve from the country music so preferred in Olamette County.
We ate—someone had been kind enough to make grilled chicken and provide salad fixings in addition to the standard artery-clogging cookout fare—and drank and shot the shit.
Jimmy Bob Prosser made an appearance, presenting me with a gift certificate for his hardware store and a stolen kiss on the cheek from my mother before he left. She beamed after him, and I found myself unable to be anything but happy for her.
Now, if the guy went and broke her heart, I’d be enlisting my brothers for some Bootleg Justice. It was only fair.
A pickup bounced down the driveway and pulled into the grass next to Gibson’s SUV. Jameson and Leah Mae, both beaming brighter than the sun, linked hands and strolled our way. I nudged Bowie next to me, pointed my beer bottle.
“Well, well. Here come the soon-to-be newly engaged,” Bowie observed.
Jameson’s imminent proposal plans were still cloaked in mystery. But it made my day even brighter, knowing that another brother was marching happily toward his future.
George and Shelby’s parents were enthusiastic about the chaos and made plans to attend Tuesday’s Cockspurs game. Devlin stepped in when Scarlett batted her lashes and tried to recruit them to the team. He’d fallen for it once before and paid a very steep hangover price.
When evening fell and the string lights twinkled on, Mom and Shelby marched out a cake with sparklers and candles. The Bodines serenaded me with the worst, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” I’d ever heard in my life.
Little Billy Ray howled along with them. It was awful and beautiful.
I laughed and smiled. Ate and drank. Embarrassed, I opened gifts, both gag and thoughtful. And I watched Shelby at the opposite end of the table.
I caught her eye, and the slow, sweet smile on her face warmed something in me that had been cold for too long.
And then I took an elbow to the gut.
“Looks like someone took his pants off today.” Scarlett grinned up at me, a cat that ate the canary.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said, slinging an arm around her shoulder.
“No, but you kiss and moon around with puppy dog eyes. She’s a nice girl, Jonah. I approve.”
“You practically picked her out for me. I should hope you’d approve,” I teased.
“Now listen, I know this is all new to you. But y’all should probably define exactly what this is because news will be all over town by tomorrow.”
“You mean, you’re going to open your big, fat mouth and tell everyone in town that I’m dating Shelby,” I corrected her.
“Dating, huh? I can get behind that.”
“Even if it’s none of your business.”
“Why, Jonah Bodine. You’re my brother. Your happiness is my business.”
“Just don’t start any wedding plans, Scar. Shelby doesn’t plan to stick around past the end of summer.”
“What about you?” she asked. “And before you even think about answering, you better not be considering leaving. Why, I brought your mama all the way out here to make her fall in love with this town.”
“You’re a diabolical puppet master, Scarlett Rose.”
She beamed up at me. “If it’s a crime to want my family to be happy and all together, then put me on death row.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I found my happily ever after,” she said, eyes flying to where Devlin and Jameson were deep in discussion. “Jameson and Leah Mae, Bowie and Cassidy, they found theirs, too. You can have a good life here.”
I nodded. “I know it. But I’m just not one thousand percent sure yet.”
“Well, you’ll have more incentive once I get your mama married off and moved in here,” she predicted.
* * *
As darkness fell, I noticed Bowie sneak off toward the shadows to take a phone call. I could see the tension in his shoulders, and something told me it wasn’t good news.
I excused myself from the table where James and Darlene were recounting one of their recent home renovation horror stories to Scarlett, who insisted that the next time they needed some plumbing done they call her first.
Bowie was standing there staring down at his phone when I got to him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked, up and I knew.
“Fuck,” I said quietly.
“It was Jayme. Dental records were a match. It’s Callie.”
Behind us, laughter erupted as Gibson and Jameson vied to tell my mom about their attempt at ice fishing when they were kids.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I said, knowing full well that it changed everything. Callie Kendall was dead. And so were the hopes of an entire community.
“It doesn’t mean that Dad did it,” Bowie said, sounding even less confident than me.
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Jayme says they’re keeping the news under wraps for a few days.”
I watched my mom dab tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes with a napkin. Now, Scarlett was slow dancing with Devlin, looking up at him like he was the sun and the moon and everything in between.
Shelby was leaning into her father’s arm, laughing at some story he was telling June.
“Let’s not ruin this,” I said. “Everyone’s having a good time. I’d rather keep it that way for another night.” It was selfish. But there wasn’t anything any of us could do about poor Callie Kendall. And this was my first family birthday party ever.
Bowie squeezed my shoulder. “Happy birthday, brother.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
33
All of Bootleg Springs
“Did y’all hear the news?”
“’Course we heard already. Such a shame. I always thought that that Callie girl was traveling in Canada with one of them there acrobatic acts.”
“I always figured she was dead. May she rest in peace, of course.”
“Why’s that?”
“She ain’t never come back, did she?”
“How you think the Kendalls are handling the news?”
“Doesn’t seem like it’s a surprise to them.”
“They always figured she was dead and gone. Seemed right sure of it.”
“I heard they was planning the funeral. Private. Don’t want a buncha looky-loos pokin’ their noses around the church and cemetery.”
“What about the Bodines?”
“What about ’em?”
“Does this mean Jonah Sr.—may he rest in peace—killed her?”
“Hell if I know. With him dead and gone—rest in peace—I figure we’ll never know what happened to that poor girl.”
“I reckon Jonah Sr. did it. Who else would have?”
“What about that no-account Lester McCoy from over yonder in Hollersville? That sumbitch would put a rattlesnake in your pocket and ask for a light.”
“You know, my Millie was a year younger than that Callie. I didn’t let her leave my side for a year after that girl up and got herself killed.”
“Everyone was huggin’ their kids extra tight after that.”
“And to think she’s been dead this whole time. I hoped she’d gone off to Hollywood and got herself a star on that Walk of Fame.”
“You know they pay for those, doncha?”
“The hell you say!”
“It’s the God’s honest truth. I was watching Under the Red Carpet, and they said how’s the celebrity gets themselves nominated and then coughs up $30,000. Wham bam. Presto. They got their own star.”
“That takes some of the fun out of it, don’t it?”
“Sure does. I stopped hopin’ Callie Kendall would get a star after I found out all about it. Still sad though.”
“Quite the
rolly coaster. One minute she’s missing. Then there’s this bloody sweater and she’s dead. Then along comes that faker girl… What was her name?”
“Dunno. Fake Callie’s what we call her ’round the dinner table.”
“Along comes Fake Callie, and we all bust out the celebrations thinking she’s alive and well. Now this. I gotta say, this feels like a letdown.”
“How you think the Bodines are feelin’ today?”
“I’m hoping they’re feeling right guilty.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say! Why should they feel guilty?”
“Their daddy done did it, didn’t he?”
“No one knows for sure.”
“The evidence is there. In my mind, Jonah Bodine Sr., may he rest in peace, was a drunk and a murderer.”
“I for one don’t agree with the whole ‘sins of the father’ bullshit you’re selling. That’s like sayin’ you should be responsible for your papa causing Mott’s heart attack when they got in that hollerin’ fit over at The Lookout twenty years ago.”
“Pfft. That wasn’t Pop’s fault. Mott was the one who got all uppity about his bingo card.”
“Still. I don’t think it’s fair that people are looking to point the finger at those Bodine kids. They’re just as much victims, ain’t they?”
“How y’all figure?”
“They grew up with Connie and Jonah, may they rest in peace, for parents. Them kids are lucky they didn’t come out more screwed up.”
“I bet that Jonah Jr.’ll be moving on now.”
“If he does, it’s ’cause old biddies like you telling everyone he’s the son of a murderer.”
“I’m just speaking my truth.”
“You’re speaking bullshit. There’s a difference.”
“Speaking of Jonah Jr., did you hear that he’s dating that sweetheart Shelby Thompson?”
“Well, ain’t that nice?”
“I heard he showed up at Springs Sundries and bought out just about everything in the bath section for her. Put together a real nice gift basket.”