I reached down, grabbing his firm ass in my hand and squeezing. I tried to pull him over me. His heavy cock was pressed against my thigh. I just needed to move him a few inches and I would get what I was craving so desperately. I shifted under him, trying to slide my body under his.
His mouth slid over my jaw, sucking on the flesh at the corner of my neck and shoulder. His fingertips raked over my clit, driving me higher. I arched again, begging for more. One finger probed at my entrance before finally pushing inside me. I cried out, taking him inside me deeper and deeper.
“More,” I begged. “Please.”
He pushed in a second finger. I felt electrified. Every touch felt like fire. It felt like a million delicious pinpricks washed over my body. I was so close, but I couldn’t fall over that edge. I was crazy with need. My head rolled back and forth on the mattress. My hands rubbed up and down his muscular back. It was sensory overload. I couldn’t focus long enough to reach the explosion that was hovering just out of reach.
“Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispered.
“In me,” I gasped. “I need you inside me. Let me feel you move inside me.”
“Are you ready?” he asked in a husky voice.
“Yes!” I cried out. It was what I had been begging for. “Yes!”
“I don’t know,” he teased. “Can you handle this?”
I groaned. “I can.”
He crawled over me, his large body dwarfing mine. My hands pressed against his chest. The strength of him was intoxicating. I wanted to feel all that hard strength inside me. I wanted to ride him until I couldn’t see straight anymore.
His steel shaft probed at my entrance. I held my breath, waiting for the moment our bodies joined together. I didn’t move. It was all him. I was giving him all control.
There was a pinch as he pushed the tip in. He was too big. I wiggled, opening wider for him. He pushed inside and I was overwhelmed with pleasure.
Rogan’s face materialized. His light brown eyes were drilling into my very soul. I couldn’t look away. His short brown hair was mussed from where my fingers had pulled and tugged. His square jaw and the hint of a five o’clock shadow were sexy as shit. My eyes drank in the muscles and the tats that were hidden from the world. He was crafted from the gods themselves.
I jerked awake, confused and flushed. “Oh shit,” I whispered.
I rubbed my face. I couldn’t believe I’d had a sex dream about Rogan Leal. That was not cool. I blamed the situation. My emotions were all over the place. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the arousal. There was nothing worse than getting to the brink of an orgasm and not getting to finish it.
I was not about to finish myself off. Not today. I was ashamed of myself for even having the naughty dream. It was the morning of my father’s funeral. What kind of person had a sex dream hours before they buried their father?
Me, apparently. I rolled to the side and checked the clock on my nightstand. It was just after three. The sun wasn’t up, but it would be up soon. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep. I didn’t really want to try out of fear I would land in that same erotic dream or something close to it. I didn’t want to reach fulfillment. It felt wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling ecstasy on a day that was sure to be difficult and sad. Then again, a little ecstasy was a nice break from the grief.
I sighed, looking up at the ceiling in the muted light coming from the nightlight in the hallway. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, but I was afraid of the bogeyman. I wanted to see him coming. The whirring of the fan above was usually soothing. It was bothering me now. My skin was still flushed and overly sensitive. The breeze created by the fan scraped over my skin, igniting little fires inside me.
I threw off the blanket and got out of bed. I passed the black dress hanging on the closet door and kept going. I quickly washed my face, studying my image in the mirror. It didn’t seem fair to be twenty-four and an orphan. My parents would never meet their grandchildren. They wouldn’t see me get married.
When we lost Mom, it had been hard, but we had Dad. Dad was such a powerful force. He filled our lives and helped drown out the sadness that threatened to pull me and my brother down. Now, he was gone and the emptiness I felt was indescribable. I knew I was still in shock. One day, it would hit me hard. For now, I felt kind of numb.
I walked into the kitchen and started some coffee before dumping a healthy amount of vanilla-flavored creamer into the cup. I took the first sip, letting the hot liquid flow down my throat. The caffeine slowly rolled through my system.
I carried my cup outside to the balcony, walking around a few boxes that were packed. I was moving into my father’s house—temporarily. I wasn’t ready to give up my condo but there were things that needed to be done and it was easier to be in the house. Plus, I wanted to feel that connection to him.
The sun was just starting to come up. Streaks of orange and red lit up the sky. My mind drifted, thinking about the world without my daddy in it. He loved sunrises. He was a hard worker and was always up with the sun, even in the summer when the sun showed up far too early.
I choked back a sob. I missed his voice. I missed his presence in the world. I could feel the absence deep in my soul. Knowing he wasn’t at home drinking his morning cup of coffee and reading the newspaper hurt. He was too young. I was too young to lose my dad. Life was such a royal bitch. It wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t be left without my parents at such a young age.
I sipped the coffee, thinking about what the day held in store for me. I was going to be on my feet all day. I was going to have to smile through my pain. I was going to have to shake hands and take hugs from strangers. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I would do it. I would do it for him. It was the least I could do.
I was still suffering from some serious guilt. I hadn’t been there with him in his last moments. I was in my office, my door closed and doing my job. I was immersed in the numbers and had no clue my father was down the hall, taking his last breaths.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I relived the moment. I heard a commotion and looked up to see two paramedics running down the hall. I told myself it was someone else, but maybe a part of me knew the truth.
I remembered getting to my feet and walking into the hall. It felt like I was walking in a dream as I walked toward his office. His secretary was in the arms of the woman from HR. She was crying uncontrollably. I walked into the office and saw my father being loaded onto a stretcher with a paramedic pumping his chest.
I never asked what happened. I didn’t say a word. I stepped out of the way as they rushed him by me. I didn’t follow right away. I couldn’t move. Pure shock engulfed me. It paralyzed me. It was the touch of a hand on my shoulder that snapped me back into the moment.
That hand had been Rogan’s. He looked shaken but he was offering me support. When I felt my knees buckle as reality crashed in, it was Rogan’s strong arms that held me up. I blamed that moment for spawning the dream. It had felt so safe and comforting in his arms. I was feeling lost and very alone, so I was clinging to anything that brought me comfort. It was why I was going to stay at my dad’s for a bit. I wanted to be surrounded by his things, his smell, and all the things that he loved.
I needed that connection to him and our time together. When the numbness wore off, which I was counting on happening shortly after the funeral, it was going to knock me on my ass. Being in his house, our house, would hopefully make it a little easier to tolerate.
The sun was well on its way up and bringing the heat with it. I needed to get dressed and head to the church. Everything was being handled by people. I didn’t really know all the people, but I was trusting them to handle the arrangements. I wasn’t strong enough to pick out flowers or a casket.
Thankfully, most of the details had already been handled. My dad had had the foresight to create a burial plan. He didn’t want to burden us when we were already overburdened.
“I love you, Dad,” I whispered as I passed the picture of the tw
o of us at my college graduation.
Chapter 3
Rogan
I pulled out the tired old suit from my closet. My only suit. I wore it once—maybe twice—a year. I couldn’t bring myself to buy numerous suits. It seemed frivolous. I wasn’t the same cash-strapped kid I once was, but I had learned my lesson. I saved when I could. I never knew when the next rainy day was coming my way.
I slowly dressed, not looking forward to the day. I couldn’t believe Ben was gone. My future was uncertain. I didn’t know who was taking over, and that made me nervous. I wasn’t going to worry about it now.
I tied the tie before sliding on the jacket. The dress shoes were practically new. In two years, they had been worn maybe three hours total. They went with the suit and I never wore the suit any longer than necessary. I preferred my casual slacks and mostly my jeans. I was a Texas boy through and through. I liked the simple things in life, but I liked having the money to buy those simple things as well.
I checked the time and decided to head over to the church. I wasn’t family and had no right to a position in the front row. I knew it was going to be packed and wanted to make sure I was close enough to hear the preacher.
I jumped in my truck and started the drive. I had to remind myself to stay focused on driving. My mind kept drifting back to the moment it happened. I had been second-guessing myself, rethinking everything I said and did that day.
If only I had been more alert. If only I had picked up on the signs a few minutes earlier. I could have called the medics and possibly bought him the precious minutes he needed. I didn’t, and now the man was dead. The doctors said it was a massive heart attack. He was a walking timebomb. The man worked so fucking hard, he’d literally worked himself into an early grave.
I parked my truck in the parking lot that was already filling with friends, employees, and business associates. Ben was a respected man. It was one of the many reasons I admired him. I leaned against the side of my truck, soaking in the sun as I watched people congregate in small groups outside. They were laughing and chatting like it was just another gathering.
“Don’t want to go in?” I heard a familiar voice ask.
I turned and grinned at my old friend, Oakley Mallet. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white button-up shirt that was left untucked, and a skinny black tie. He wore a jacket that was left open. It was about as dressed up as one could expect from a guy like Oakley. He was the shining example of a surfer, minus the blond hair. His black hair was too long to be respectable, but it wasn’t so long to be hanging down his back. He was tall, lean, and very much a free spirt.
“I was thinking about it,” I answered. “Did you just get into town?”
“I came in last night,” he answered.
I could see the sadness on his face, but he wasn’t going to cry. Neither would I. Ben would have told us to buck up. Men didn’t cry. “Are you staying at the house?”
“For now.”
“How are you?”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll be okay. I heard you were with him when it happened. I’m glad you were there.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for him.”
He shrugged as he watched the people milling about. “It was his time.”
That was Oakley. He was very Zen. I knew he was hurting inside. He would go back to California, jump on his surfboard, and ride the waves until he worked it all out of his system.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days,” I told him.
He smirked. “God help us all.”
“Funny. I keep thinking about him and us when we were younger. The man was patient and kind and so generous.”
Oakley smiled, looking very peaceful. “I was lucky. Cora and I were both very lucky to have him as our father.”
“And I’m the lucky idiot that happened to stumble into your lives. He was very much like a father to me.”
“You were probably his favorite son,” he teased. “You went into the family business.”
“I think he knew a long time ago you were not born to be an executive.”
“I’m lucky,” he said. “A lot of sons born into families like mine were expected to be in the family business. If the sons didn’t do what their families expected, they were cast out. My dad supported my dreams.”
“He wanted you to be happy. Your dad was an unconventional parent.”
He slid his hands into his pockets, looking very relaxed. “Remember when he caught us trying to watch porn on the scrambled channel?”
I burst into laughter. “Thanks for bringing that up. I was trying very hard not to remember that.”
“He didn’t care. You almost shit your pants when he asked you if it was the Red Shoe Diaries. Clearly, he knew the show.”
“I do not want to think about your dad watching porn,” I told him. “That is not an image I want in my head.”
“Or the time we took his old Corvette out? He did not believe my story for a second when I tried to tell him I had to move it out of the garage to get my ATV out.”
“And right into the fence,” I said with a laugh.
“It was an honest mistake,” he said with a smile. “I’m lucky he was so patient with me. He did make me work my ass off that summer to pay for the damage.”
We both fell quiet for several minutes, each of us lost in our memories of the man that would never again give us a stern lecture or tell us he was proud. I still could not get my head around his loss. Everything was going to be different. His loss was going to be difficult to overcome. We would overcome it, but I knew I would never stop missing him.
“Oakley!” I heard a shout.
We both turned in the direction of the sound. It was Cora. She was standing at a side entrance, waving a hand. She looked beautiful as always. She was wearing a black dress with lace sleeves. I hated to think it, but she looked damn good in black.
She waved again, gesturing for us to go inside before disappearing back into the church. “How is she doing with this?” I asked.
Oakley let out a long sigh. “She’s going to be fine, but she’s taking it hard. She’s moving into the house to stay for a few days. She says a few days, but I have a feeling it will be longer than that.”
“What about you? How long are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know. I really want to get back to the beach.”
I knew what he was saying. “She needs you.”
“Yes, I suppose she does.” He didn’t make a move to go inside.
“Are you ready to do this?” I asked him softly.
He slowly shook his head, staring at the historical church building. “I’m as ready as I will ever be. I really didn’t want to do any of this. I prefer to grieve on the water. I need the water.”
“It won’t be so bad,” I told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll hang out and catch up. It will be good for you and your sister.”
“I know I need to be here. I hope you will make some time to hang out.”
“I will. We should probably go in before she comes out here and drags you in. I want to make sure I get a seat. It looks like it will be standing room only in there. Your dad was a popular man.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “You’re sitting with us. We are the only family he had. We need to try and fill the pew. You are not sitting anywhere else.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I told him.
“Shut up,” he said and began to walk. “You know damn well you’re sitting with us. Don’t be an asshole.”
I followed him, happy to have him back in town, even if it was only for a little while. We entered through the side door and Oakley was immediately pulled into the arms of an elderly woman. I felt a little out of place and slowly pulled away. I felt like an asshole sitting in the front pew, but I felt like more of an asshole because the only people I knew were the ones that worked for me and Ben. I didn’t run in the same circles as the Mallett family. I watched Oakley
and Cora as people expressed their condolences. They both looked uncomfortable.
I talked with a few of the employees, making sure they knew how much Ben appreciated each and every one of them. It was what Ben would have wanted. He was a good man and cared about every single one of his employees. They were loyal to him, as was apparent by the turnout.
I remembered the holiday parties he hosted every year. He personally handed out bonuses at the parties, giving every one of them a kind, specific word showing that he knew each of them. I briefly wondered what this Christmas would look like. Would there be a party? Would anyone want to have a party?
The music changed, indicating it was time for us to take our seats. I thought about taking a seat near the back with the employees, but Oakley must have known I would attempt to get away. He jerked his head, motioning me up front. I excused myself from the others and made my way up front, feeling completely out of place.
I took a seat on the end with Oakley beside me and Cora beside him. She was quiet as the service started. More than once, I saw Oakley put an arm around her and offer comfort. His expression was blank, not letting on that he too was suffering.
There were a few moments when the ache in my throat nearly made me choke, but I fought back the pain. I fought back the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. I looked over at Cora a few times. She was trying to be strong but the pain on her face was hard to miss. She dabbed at her eyes, being careful not to smudge her makeup. She never looked so beautiful as she did in that moment.
There were plenty of sniffles and the occasional sob from behind us. I stared at the picture of the man that we were all mourning. Oakley and Cora had inherited Ben’s black hair. Oakley had blue eyes and his sister green, which they must have inherited from their mother. She had died before I met Oakley. I had seen pictures of her but never paid much attention to her eye color. Oakley was tall and lanky, much like his father. Cora was petite, making me wonder if her mother was as well.
Backing You Up Page 2