I have to pull over to the side of the road. “Ro? You’re pregnant?”
“Barely,” she whispers. “We haven’t been trying, but we haven’t been preventing either. Both of us knew we wanted kids, so we went for it. It happened a lot sooner than we expected.”
“Are you okay with it?”
Knowing how she lost Etta, I want to make sure her mental health is taken care of.
“I am, I’m excited. We plan on getting married in the next two to three months. Ruby and Whitney are working on it together,” she mentions members of the Kepler family who run an event planning business. “They assured me they’d be able to make this happen. Hell, Whitney even came out of retirement for it.”
“This is what you want?”
“This is exactly what I want, Sully. It’s everything with the right man.”
“I’m happy for you, Ro, so happy.”
“Thanks, Sully, I’m happy too.”
We hang up, and immediately I have a feeling of loss. Of never having what she has. Letting moments slip through my fingers and not forcing myself to make others understand. The look in Shelby’s eyes as she walked away from me, it’s haunting.
Raindrops splash against the windshield, fat drops, making noise. It reverberates in the quiet of my car, hitting the roof, the asphalt I’m driving on. Most of all, the sound knocks against a place inside my head. A place that’s stubbornly shoved people away from me for so long. When Etta died, it affected us all.
Ro lost trust.
I lost the ability to freely give my emotions to anyone who didn’t know me before.
Before our hearts were broken by a little girl with a smile as bright as the sun. Before I had to be a pallbearer to a teeny, tiny casket, light enough I could have carried it on my own. Would have if anyone had asked. She was a light in the darkness, and when her flame was snuffed out, my family lost a piece of themselves. Me? I lost a piece of my heart. One I haven’t been able to recover, let alone give to anyone else.
But those eyes of Shelby’s?
They remind me of Etta’s. The way she trusted me?
I saw that in Shelby the night of the Christmas party. “What do I do, Etta?”
I whisper the question, not knowing if it’s a question I should be asking of a little girl who never even had her fifth birthday.
All of a sudden, a deer appears in the middle of the road, causing me to slam on my brakes. Oil on the asphalt spins me around once, twice, maybe even three or four times. When I slide to a stop, my car is facing back the way I was coming. The front-end headed toward town instead of my apartment.
Smirking, I can’t help the chuckle pulled from my throat. “I got it, E. I got it.”
The whole way back to Shelby’s office my mind is racing as fast as the miles my car eats up. I hope like hell she hasn’t left, that I haven’t managed to fuck up the chance I had with her. This woman, she admitted she remembered what happened, and I didn’t give her the answers she wanted. That’s my fault, and I hope she’s way more forgiving than I typically am.
Pulling along the square, I see her car is still sitting in front of her office building. I come to screeching halt next to it, throw it in park, before opening the door and running into the deluge of water pouring down. Approaching her office, I can see the entrance she normally has open is shut, and when I try the knob it’s locked.
“Shelby!”
My fists beat against the wood, hoping she can hear me.
“Shelby!”
Right now I wish I had my toolkit; I could pop this lock in a few seconds.
“Shelby!”
I scream again, hoping she’ll hear the desperation in my voice.
“What?”
I have to stop my fist from hitting her in the face when she swings the door open, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.
She’s never looked hotter than she does right now. All full of irritation and anger.
“I’m sorry,” I start.
“You should be.” She taps her foot on the floor. “Do you know what it took for me to tell you I remembered the night of the Christmas Party, Sullivan? Nobody has ever done what you did to me that night, I’ve never responded to another person the way I did with you.”
I hold my hand up, cutting her off. “Look, Counselor, you got to talk in the car, now I get to talk.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but I muscle my way in, shutting the door with my foot, locking it so we don’t get disturbed and closing anyone else out of this very private conversation we’re about to have.
“I’m waiting.” She tilts her chin.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” I close the distance between us, shoving my hands into her hair, tilting her head to my liking. “You don’t know how many times I’ve jacked off to the night of the Christmas Party, how many times I wanted to ask you about it. You never gave me any inkling you remembered it, so I didn’t. Today you took me by surprise and I didn’t know how to react.”
“But you do now?” She baits me.
“I do.” I swallow deeply, pulling one hand back to rub my thumb over her full bottom lip.
“How are you going to react?”
Her pulse is thumping at her throat, her tits are pressing against my chest with her shallow breathing, emerald eyes are dilated as they gaze into mine.
“How I should have reacted thirty minutes ago,” I whisper before I take her mouth.
It’s an aggression, a show of ownership I’ve never given another woman, but there’s something about Shelby Bruce that gets to me. She’s under my skin, a scent in my nose, a taste in my mouth. My lips eat hers up as she gives into the kiss I’ve wanted to take for months.
Her fingers gouge at my back, fisting at the hoodie covering my body. Mine destroy her hair, moving down her torso to her ass. The skirt she wears prevents me from doing much, but I manage to pull it up slightly. Enough so that I can get access to her thighs and ass. Palming the globes, I lift her up, pulling her legs around my waist as I walk her over to the couch along the wall.
Having a seat, I lean back so she can straddle me and rock her hips against my hard cock. When we pull apart, it’s because we can’t breathe. As we suck in air, I manage to speak.
“Is this okay with you?”
“Hmm, totally okay,” she moans as I move my hand up, curling around her left breast, worrying the peaked nipple with my thumb.
“Good.” I pull her back to me, kissing her with everything I’ve got.
She’s fighting against my damp hoodie, trying to get it off my body when we both hear a loud knocking at the door.
“Shelby, it’s time for my appointment. Are you here?”
“Shit,” she whispers, dropping her forehead against mine. “I really do have a client.”
“Fuck,” I groan along with her. “The sounds like Widow Haley.”
“It is.” She gets off me, trying to straighten herself out. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, Mrs. Haley.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” I point to my sweatpants, where anyone who looks at me can see how ready I was to get busy with Shelby here in her law office.
“Think about people in their underwear,” she giggles.
“Doesn’t work, I’m just gonna think about you.”
She gives me a look, wiping off her lips, with an indulgent grin on her face. “I need you to get out of here so I can do my job. There’s a bathroom over there.” She points to the right to a room I haven’t seen before. “If you want to take care of business so you can leave.”
“Shelby!”
“Coming, Mrs. Haley. I’ve really got to go.” She looks up at me.
“Stop by my apartment when you get off work.” I grab her hand, kissing the palm. “We need to talk.”
“We do.” She points at me. “And I mean talk.”
I wink. “We’ll talk.”
“I mean it, Sully.”
“I do too, Counselor. I do too.”
&
nbsp; Chapter 7
Sulllivan
Driving home is uncomfortable in many ways. The biggest one is between my thighs. Going to the bathroom at Shelby’s office did absolutely nothing for the hard-on I’m still sporting. Feeling the material of my sweatpants against the sensitive head of my dick isn’t making the situation any better.
Parking, getting out, and taking the stairs two at a time doesn’t do anything either. Even slamming my front door fails to give me satisfaction. Neither does throwing off my clothes as I walk through my apartment toward the bathroom, letting them land where they may.
Cranking the hot water, I let it run for a few minutes as I try to talk myself out of what I’m about to do.
It would be wrong.
But it would feel so good.
It wouldn’t be any different than what you’ve been doing since you moved here.
My thoughts are getting on my damn nerves.
Pushing the curtain back, I get in, though the flow is still cold. I’m annoyed as it does nothing to relieve the throbbing between my legs.
The entire time I’m in here, I argue with myself. To take pleasure, or live with the irritation. For longer than I care to admit, I’ve done the second. Mostly because I felt like our whole family was being punished for losing Etta. Now that Rowan has found her happiness, the dark cloud that’s seemed to encompass us is lifting.
The sun is brighter, the sky is bluer, and I’m not frowning all the time. But that still doesn’t make it okay for me to jack off to my neighbor. Does it?
Turning the water off, I press my forehead against the tiles, rolling it around for a few seconds, hoping for my thoughts to clear. When they don’t, and my cock jumps at the memory of the kiss we shared, I stomp out of the shower, through the doorway, and down the hall. When I get to my bedroom, I push the covers off, lay on my back, and situate myself against the mattress.
Tilting my head into the pillow, I close my eyes, thinking about the woman whose got my emotions spinning out of control. Shelby isn’t at all what I expected when I came to Laurel Springs, but fuck if she’s not exactly what I’ve needed.
A hazy fantasy begins to concoct itself in my head. One where we didn’t have to stop in her office. Where I cleaned off the desktop with one sweep of my arm before bending her over at the waist.
Tits down, ass up.
My breathing becomes labored as I go deeper into the fantasy, imagining reaching down, grabbing her skirt and wrenching it up over her cheeks.
There it is. The string of a thong nestled for me to latch onto. Using my fingers, I pull the fabric out, wrapping it around my wrist.
“Sully,” she gasps.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Shelby looks over her shoulder at me. Those green eyes of hers hooded with passion. “No.” She shakes her head. “Please don’t stop.”
With my other hand, I tuck my thumb into my palm and extend my middle and index finger as I lift up to her mouth. “Open for me, Counselor.”
She accepts my fingers, twirling around them with her tongue, bathing the flesh with moisture that’ll ease my way into her body. When I go to extract them, she sucks, refusing to release. “You want something else to suck on?” I breathe into her ear. “I’ve got six and a half inches, right here.”
A groan rips from her throat as I move my wet fingers between her thighs, holding them open with my own. I take her in increments. “You’re tight.” My words are a hiss as I do my best to be patient.
“It’s been a while, Sullivan. More than likely longer for me than it has for you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, darlin’.”
Her head tilts forward as she accepts my invasion, rocking back against my fingers. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah?” I crowd into her, getting all up in her personal space. “You like that?”
She nods. “Mmm hmm.”
Using my fingers I widen her passage, getting her ready for my length. With my other hand I lift her upper body off the desk. Sliding my palm up to her throat, I circle my fingers around the flesh, feeling it move as she swallows roughly. Pulling her neck back, I make a spot big enough for me to move in, open-mouth going after her skin. She squirms as I suck, lick, bite, kiss, and blow against the hot surface, wiggling at my fingers still inside her.
“Sullivan!” she screams, panting, her hands reaching back to grip my thighs tightly. Holding me as close as I can get, until she’s coming against my hand, riding it with her head tilted on my shoulder. Inhaling huge gulps of air.
Instead of letting her ease herself down, I quickly push my sweatpants and underwear below my dick, grasp my length in my hand for a few seconds and give it a quick jerk before I place it at the opening of her pussy, and slide fucking home.
This is when it stops being a fantasy and I realize I’m grasping myself in my palm, jacking the tight skin of my hard cock furiously. My thighs press up into my strokes, my other hand moves down my legs to scoot past my length and grab my balls. They’re tight, drawn up between my thighs, kissing the skin as they wait to be emptied.
“Fuck,” I moan, my head thrashing on the pillow as I go between the fantasy and the reality, wishing like hell I was pressing into Shelby’s body instead of my own hand.
“Goddammit,” launches out of my mouth in a snarled whisper.
Fuckin’ hard as a rock and can’t seem to make myself come. Desperation grabs at my stomach, causing my abs to tighten.
My whole fucking body is on a string as I continue to move my hand at a furious pace. Up my length and then down, collecting the fluid at the tip to ease my way.
“Come on.” I strain, wanting so badly to push past whatever barrier is keeping me from spilling against my stomach.
After a few minutes of being so close I can taste it, I drop my cock, twitching as it brushes my belly button, leaving a trail of fluid behind. “Son of a bitch,” I groan as I roll over onto my side, yanking a box out from underneath the bed.
It isn’t often I have to use this toy box, but sometimes it’s a must. Especially when I’ve been on edge for far too long. Popping the top off, I reach in, grabbing a bottle of lube and a damn pocket pussy. I would be disgusted in myself if it wasn’t for how horny Shelby’s got me.
“Fuck yes,” I moan as I sink my length into the toy, closing my eyes at the feel of it. It’s not the same as a real, live person, but it’s enough for times like this.
Pushing up onto my knees, I fuck down into it, while running my other hand over my stomach. My skin is sensitive to the touch, having been on edge for far too long. All I can do is grunt and feel, imagine I’m plunging deep into her body, pretend like it’s her walls squeezing me tightly. Taking a break, I turn around so that I can grab hold of the headboard.
Gripping the wooden edge hard enough I could snap it in two, I use it to leverage myself. It allows me to thrust deeper and faster, my balls slapping against my thighs as I continue. My body is curled up tighter than it’s ever been.
Closing my eyes I tilt my head back, gritting my teeth, grasping the headboard, and fucking my hand with everything I have.
Finally.
“Oh my God, fuck yes,” I grunt and groan as my orgasm overpowers me. “Shelby,” I whisper when her green eyes appear in my mind. “Goddamn.” I continue thrusting through it, panting as I lose my balance and fall on my back.
Chest heaving, hair sticking to my forehead, and a depleted cock in my hand, I lick my lips and sigh. If I ever get inside her, once won’t be enough.
I have a strange premonition I’ll never be able to stop, and surprisingly that’s okay with me.
Chapter 8
Shelby
My mind isn’t where it should be - on Mrs. Haley’s will. Instead, I’m thinking about the man who left my office as she came in. Sullivan’s been occupying more of my attention than he should, but what a welcome distraction that man is.
As I look over the papers she’s brought, I softly sigh. This is the type of shit I hate doing
, but it pays the bills. Thinking of a person no longer living has always been a trigger for me. I don’t like considering end-of-life measures or procedures, but it’s part of the job. A well-paying one, at that.
Especially when I don’t have people knocking down my door to be represented.
Don’t think about it, Shelby. You’ve never been in it for the money.
But, my mind argues, it’s something we need to have in order to live and eat.
“I don’t want my grandson to get anything, Shelby.” She slaps her frail hand down on my desk.
“I’ll make sure of it,” I assure her for the hundredth time.
Her hand; the sight of it causes my stomach to clench. What I know were once strong are now bony, with paper thin skin stretched over top. Little brown blemishes dot here and there. A wedding ring, looking as if it’s been molded to her, still sits on her left hand.
“Mrs. Haley. How long has your husband been deceased?”
I can’t stop myself from asking the question. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had anyone who wanted to marry me, but my brain won’t quit focusing on it.
“Goin’ on twenty years now.” She smiles sadly. “Didn’t think I’d make it this long without him, but I’ve surprised everyone, including myself.”
“Why are you here?” Another one that I can’t keep from asking. “He’s been gone so long, why are you rewriting the will?”
I’ve wondered this since the first time she came into my office. The original will she placed on my desk had been drafted almost forty years before. It was weathered; the pages were yellowed on the edges and smelled of cigarette smoke. She’s never been honest with me when I ask, but I continue to. Someday she’ll have to tell someone.
She shifts in the seat, crossing one thin leg over the other, leaning toward my desk. The way she slumps emphasizes the slight hunch in her back. “My grandson,” she starts.
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