by S. E. Rose
“Of course we can.”
“Cool. I like fixing things. Once, Mrs. Collier let me help her fix the remote control. I put the batteries in it. And this other time, my old teacher, Mr. Wilkens, let me help him fix a jar that was broken. I had to hold the parts, and he glued them together.”
“I didn’t know you were so good at fixing things,” I say. “Maybe you can help me fix some things around the house?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty good at fixing things; so, yeah, I can help you.”
Brix grins at me over Ash’s head, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Cool,” I manage.
“What shall we read tonight?” I ask him as I survey the bookshelf.
“I like that one about the big giant,” he says.
“Oh, that’s my favorite,” Brix agrees.
“Very well, let’s finish that one. It was always one of my favorites, too.” I grab The BFG off the shelf, and we all snuggle into the bed. I try to make all the voices. Ash sometimes corrects me, and Brix tries his best to help with certain sections. It’s a real team effort.
“One more!” Ash says after I close the book.
I look to Brix.
“I’ll read you a short one,” Brix says to him as he grabs a little Dr. Seuss book off the shelf. I kiss Ash goodnight and head out to clean up things.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I leave Ash’s door open a little while Brix tucks him in. My guestroom bathtub looks like a bad graffiti wall with the washable tubby-time crayons all over the walls. I grab a sponge and clean it off as I set the rubber ducky on the sink.
It’s quiet in the house, and I take a deep breath as I relish the calm. I toss the sponge in my cleaning basket under the sink and head downstairs. There’s only a light on in the kitchen. When I walk in, Brix is leaning on the counter. I notice a bottle of wine is out, and two glasses are poured.
“I figured you could use a little vino after tonight,” he says with a half-laugh.
I groan. “I don’t think I can ever watch a mythical God's movie again.”
“Zeus . . . I mean, I like it.”
“Please tell me you don’t have a name for it,” I say as I pick up a glass of the wine and take a long drink while I glance down at his crotch.
I know immediately from Brix’s silence that he, too, has named his penis.
“What? Are you serious?”
He shrugs.
“Does every guy name it?”
He shrugs again. “I doubt it.”
“But you did?”
“Guilty.”
I give him a pointed look. “Are you gonna share it with me?”
He saunters over toward me with a smirk. “I can share it with you, angel.”
I roll my eyes and am about to make a smartass comment, but his lips descend upon me and I forget everything else.
I set my glass down and wrap my arms around his neck. He reaches down and grips my hips and lifts me onto the counter, stepping in between my legs.
His hands knead the flesh on my hips as he presses against me, his erection rubbing my core and lighting up my nerves.
“Brix,” I breathe against his lips.
“Nope,” he answers.
I’m confused until he whispers, “Mr. Hyde.”
I freeze and contemplate his words. “Wait,” I say loudly, shoving him a bit so I can look up at him.
He’s grinning.
“Are you telling me you named your dick ‘Mr. Hyde?’”
“I didn’t name it that, but the nickname stuck.”
“Who named it?”
“My first girlfriend in high school. She said that I was calm and reserved normally, but wild in bed, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Somehow my friends found out, and it was a running joke for years.”
I try to bite my lip to keep from laughing, but I can’t help it. “Oh my God! What is wrong with the men in my life? You guys are crazy!”
Brix reaches between my legs and caresses my folds through my clothes. I stop laughing. “Maybe we should name this,” he whispers seductively as he leans back down and kisses along my jawline.
“As long as you keep doing that, you can name any of my body parts whatever you’d like.”
“Whatever?”
“Whatever.”
He pulls back just slightly and gazes at me from beneath hooded eyes. “Mine,” he growls, and he crashes his mouth to mine. My legs wrap around him, and we grind against each other. His hands rove over my body. He pulls my legs from him and begins stripping me of my leggings and underwear. I pull my top off, leaving me sitting on my counter in only my bra. It feels wrong, yet oddly right at the same time.
Brix drops to his knees and spreads my legs apart, kissing his way up the inside of one thigh and then the other. My head falls back against the cabinet as I moan.
My hands grasp his head as he lowers it to the apex of my thighs, slowly running his tongue up my slit. His thumbs separate my folds, and he runs lazy circles around my clit. I bite my lip again, but this time it’s to keep from crying out his name.
His tongue slides down and inside me, and I nearly buck off my counter, but his strong hands keep me in place as he has his way with me. He pulls back and looks up at me, his eyes dark with need, his lips wet with the evidence of my need.
“You taste fucking amazing, Lanie. I don’t ever want to stop,” he says in a low gravelly voice as he slowly runs his tongue back to my clit while keeping his eyes locked on mine. He pulls one hand away from my thigh and slowly presses a finger inside me.
“I want to watch you come undone. I want to taste you coming undone.” My body begins to tremble with my impending orgasm as I unabashedly rock against his hand. He adds another finger inside me and curls them to find the perfect spot to stroke me. And that’s all it takes for me to explode like a firework in the night sky.
I open my mouth in a silent scream as my eyes close. His tongue laps at me, and his fingers keep plunging in and out until my body goes limp. I feel him rising from the ground. He picks me up and wraps my legs around him. My arms wrap his neck, and he picks me up. My forehead is pressed against his lips, and I can’t move. Small tremors of ecstasy continue to rock my body as I feel him set me down on my . . . dining room table. My eyes fly open.
“Wha . . .” I trail off and look up at him.
“Do you trust me, angel?” he asks as he turns me around on the table so I’m on my knees with my ass hanging over the edge.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good, because I’ve wanted to fuck you on this table since the first time I saw it with all your pretty china on it.” And with that he grips my hips and thrusts into me from behind, leaving me breathless.
I’m transported to another universe. Brix does things to my body that I didn’t think were possible, sending me toward a high that I’ve never experienced before. Again, I’m left wondering if his medical knowledge provides him the ability to know exactly what to do with me, but I have a feeling that this is innately Brix and nothing to do with human biology knowledge. His fingers massage my clit; his other hand reaches forward and plays with my nipple through my bra. I’m lost in sensations.
My peak comes fast, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my cries. I feel Brix groaning behind me as he continues thrusting. His movements become uneven and then he grunts and surges into me one last time, his body stilling as he comes inside me.
Neither of us moves for a moment until we hear Ash’s door creak open upstairs. Brix pulls out of me, and I clamber off the dining room table. I swivel, trying to remember where all my clothes are. I spot them twenty feet away in the kitchen and scramble toward them.
“Miss Lanie? Dr. Brix?”
Brix is pulling his pants back up. “Uh, yeah, Ash?”
“I heard a noise. And it woke me up. Can I get a glass of water, please?” he asks, and I hear his little footsteps as he starts down the stairs. I manage to get my underwear pulled up, and my leggings are sort of on, but I get stuc
k in my shirt in my rapid struggle to get it on.
“Just a second, Ash,” I say, my voice coming out breathy, like I’ve just run a marathon. I tug my shirt enough to see over the neckline, and I grab a glass and pour water into it, handing it to Brix, who dashes to the stairs.
“Hey, buddy. Here you go. Let’s get you back in bed,” he says calmly. I collapse onto the floor. A few minutes later, Brix walks back downstairs. He reaches the kitchen and takes one look at me before we both burst out laughing. Brix sinks to the ground next to me.
“Oh my God! We can’t do things like that!” I manage in between fits of giggles. “We have to be responsible!”
“I suppose you’re right, but I needed to fulfill that fantasy for Mr. Hyde.”
“Stop it!” I giggle and play-slap his arm.
“What—he likes the wild side. You know, to live dangerously?” He waggles his eyebrows, and I start laughing again. A completely un-ladylike snort escapes my mouth, and I start laughing harder, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I finally calm myself down, wiping away the tears with a kitchen towel that I pull down from the handle on my stove.
“We should get to bed,” I announce as I start to get up, only to be pulled back down into Brix’s lap.
“Let’s go take a shower,” he says.
“Yeah, I probably should,” I murmur as I give him a quick kiss. He helps me up, and we head upstairs.
We shower slowly, cherishing each other’s bodies as we clean each other. Our bathroom routine seems so normal, like we’ve been living together forever. We already have a choreographed routine as we get ready for bed. I snuggle under my covers, and Brix climbs in next to me, pulling me back against his warm body.
“Stay here,” I suddenly whisper.
“I’m not going home tonight, angel.”
I turn toward him, looking into his eyes in the dim moonlight trickling into the room from beyond my sheer curtains.
“I mean . . . stay.”
He stares at me. “Are you asking me to move in here?”
“Maybe . . . I mean, maybe we do like a trial run and see how it goes,” I suggest.
“OK,” he replies slowly, mulling over my words.
“I mean, you don’t have to. I just . . . I like having you here, and I think Ash does too.”
“I like being here with you both. I just don’t want to rock the boat. But maybe we try a week and see how it goes?”
“I’d like that.” I lean up and kiss him. He wraps his arms around me, and I snuggle against him, listening to his heartbeat as I fall asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Miss Lanie?” Ash tugs on my sleeve as we stand at the clerk’s counter at the courthouse.
“Yes, Ash?”
“Isn’t this where Judge Maloney works?”
“Uh, yes, it is,” I reply. “Thanks, Marcy.” The clerk motions to her bowl of candy, and I nod.
“Here you go,” she says to Ash, handing him a lollipop.
“Thanks!” he says with a big grin.
I text Judge Maloney’s secretary, Lisa, to see if he’s in his chambers.
Lisa: He has hearings all day.
“Sorry, buddy. The judge has hearings all day.”
“Hearings?” Ash cocks his head to the side.
“Oh, uh, he has to work.”
“Can we go see him?”
“Well . . . uh . . .” I look down at my outfit and Ash’s. Not exactly court-worthy clothes, but it could be worse.
“OK, but we have to sit in the back, and we have to be quiet the whole time,” I say to him. I nod to a few people as I walk to courtroom number three and slowly open one of the giant wooden double doors. The courthouse is one of the original buildings in town. It was built in the early eighteen-hundreds and still has much of its original interior. Old oak floors and benches dominate the courtrooms, with innately carved moldings around the top of the walls. Old paintings hang along the walls of each of the three courtrooms. It’s a small district court, but I love it. I love that I know all the prosecutors and all the judges. Heck, I even know most of the plaintiffs and defendants that come to the court. Yes, it’s a quintessential small-town courthouse.
I usher Ash to the back row of benches, and we take a seat. Judge Maloney is intently listening to the defense counsel, a woman I know from law school. Ash sits still, listening to a woman argue that her client shouldn’t have received a ticket for fishing without a license in the river. He had the license on his phone which he had left at home by mistake, having grabbed his wife’s phone by accident. She shares a copy of the license as evidence.
Ash tugs on my arm. “Why is everyone calling Judge Maloney ‘Your Honor’?”
I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Because it’s a sign of respect. Like you call me ‘Miss Lanie’ instead of just ‘Lanie’ or Mrs. Collier ‘Mrs. Collier’ instead of Janet.”
“Oh,” Ash says. “Do you get to stand up there and argue with that guy, too?” He points to the prosecutor, and I press my lips together to stifle my laugh as I nod.
“That’s cool.”
Judge Maloney dismisses the case and looks out into the audience, catching my eye.
“I see I have a special visitor in my courtroom today. Mr. Ashton Nicks, could you please come up to the bench?”
Ash’s eyes widen with surprise and apprehension as he looks from me to Judge Maloney.
“It’s OK, come on up here. I need someone to help me out for a moment,” the judge assures him. Tentatively, Ash gets up and straightens his shoulders as he walks up the middle aisle to the judge, who motions for him to come around the bench. Ash walks up the few steps to the judge’s bench.
“I need to conclude our afternoon docket. Would you mind hitting my gavel on this little wooden circle for me?” he asks Ash, showing him the motion before handing him the gavel.
Ash grins and nods enthusiastically as the courtroom audience giggles at his enthusiasm. He knocks with the gavel, and the judge stands.
“All rise,” the bailiff calls out. The judge ushers Ash out the back door of the courtroom. I grin and walk back to the judge’s chambers. I find Ash sitting on the judge’s waiting room sofa, talking to Lisa and the judge, who has given him candy.
“Lanie, how’s everything going?”
“Good. Very good. Ash wanted to see you, so we thought we’d stop by,” I explain.
“Yes, I wanted to see you, Your Honor,” Ash says to him.
Judge Maloney chuckles. “I see you are learning all sorts of things today. Will you stop by and see me again soon?”
“Yep! Can we, Miss Lanie?” he asks me after responding. I laugh and nod.
“OK, well you be good, and I’ll see you soon.”
Lisa goes to hand Ash some more sweets. The judge leans over toward me.
“How’s everything? I got your last report. He seems to be doing well,” he says in a hushed voice, glancing toward Ash, who is showing Lisa how he helped with the gavel, using a little one on her desk.
“Yes, he’s doing well. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, so time will tell.”
“Very good. I’ll be in touch,” he adds as he heads back into his office.
“Come on, Ash. We should get going.”
Brixton
It’s after dinner by the time I get to Lanie’s house. Ash is curled up on the sofa watching a cartoon movie. I can tell he’s into it because his thumb is in his mouth.
The second he sees me, he pulls the thumb out and gets up.
“Hi, Your Honor! How was your day?”
Lanie, who is sitting next to him with a tablet in her lap, bursts out in silent giggles, her whole body shaking as she places a hand over her mouth.
“Uh, good. How was your day?”
“Well, Miss Lanie had to go to court. I got to go, too. We watched Judge Maloney work. I got candy from Miss Lisa and then we made homemade ravioli. It was good.” He looks up at Lanie, who tries hard to stop laughing. “There’s st
ill some left in the fridge, right, Miss Lanie?”
She nods, clearly not trusting herself to speak.
“Wow, that’s, uh, quite the day. I guess I’ll go change and try that ravioli.”
“Are you going to spend the night again?” Ash asks.
I look to Lanie, who stops laughing and looks at me like a deer in the headlights. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Is that OK?”
“Sure. I like it when you stay. Mrs. Collier never had guys spend the night, just us boys. And my other foster mom, Ms. Juniper—she always had guys coming by, but they weren’t nice and didn’t want to talk with the kids. You’re fun, though, so I like it when you’re here.”
“OK. Good. I like it when I’m here, too.”
“I’m going to go warm up dinner for Dr. Brix, Ash. How about I make us some hot cocoa?”
Ash jumps up and down. “Yay!”
“I take that as a ‘yes?’”
“Yes.”
“Yes, please?” Lanie prompts.
Ash rolls his eyes. “Yes . . . please.”
After showering, I head to the kitchen, where I find Lanie. She has a place setting set at the island and is drinking something in a mug.
“Your Honor?” I ask her.
She shrugs with a giggle. “He asked why people called the judge that. I said it was a sign of respect.”
“OK, then.” I sit down. “This looks amazing.”
“Ash talked me into cooking. I figured, if I can make mac and cheese, I should be able to put cheese into a shell. Now, to be fair, we bought the dough already made.”
I laugh. “Noted.” I take a bite. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” she retorts, putting her hands on her hips.
I laugh. “It’s better than not bad.”
She places dishes in the dishwasher as I eat, and we discuss our days. It seems like the most natural thing in the world. Two adults with painful childhoods, just sitting around and chatting about their mundane adult lives.
“What?” she asks me as she dries her hands and leans across the island, putting her weight on her elbows. A lock of hair falls out of her ponytail, and I lean forward and tuck it behind her ear.