by Daya Daniels
I’d bought almost everything we needed, from pots, pans, and silverware to sheets, towels, and blankets. I’d even picked up a few things I knew Callie would love, like one of those juicer things and vanilla-scented candles.
It dawned on me then that with as much fucking as Callie and I had been doing, I didn’t know everything about her. I didn’t know her shoe size or what kind of moisturizer she puts on her skin. I had no clue about her sleeping habits at night or how she liked her coffee in the morning because she never slept over.
I hadn’t dated this woman yet even though I was in a semi-relationship with her.
I’d never dated a woman, period!
And with all the domesticated, responsible shit that’s crowding my brain these days, I feel like a pussy. I never stayed in one place for long after finishing college. I lived in motels, hotels, boats, friends’ houses for days at a time, but I never lived anywhere for as long as I found myself in Charleston.
I exhale and look around at the deep-green hue of the grass that edges the pavement here where both my Harley and new truck are parked.
The grounds around this house are perfectly manicured thanks to me and look like something right outside of the Home & Garden magazines. And just beyond it is the beach.
It’s beautiful here. This place is a home.
This morning Brandon and I went to the grocery store. I pushed the cart through the aisles, mindlessly throwing stuff in it, while Brandon tossed in whatever he wanted. And all I could think about was I was doing this alone. I felt like Callie should be with me, with us. But of course, that couldn’t happen.
She’s busy with her family since she’d told me her other two sons, who I haven’t met yet, would be back in Mount Pleasant this morning.
In the last two days, I’ve painted Brandon’s new bedroom the same color blue as it was in the cottage. He loves this place.
It’s late in the afternoon and I’ve been getting settled in all day as well as organizing a few site visits for next week. I have more than enough jobs scheduled for the last two months and have two guys who were due to start working for me next week. I wish my mother could see this. That maybe I’ve become the man she knew I could be.
The responsible, law-abiding citizen who has an official home address.
I picked up the last of my stuff from the cottage early this morning and found myself cornered by Ivy this morning, who asked me to walk Digby and Mila before I left. I told her I would and something in me told me not to take the route I did on my run, but I suppose I was curious.
As soon as I rounded the corner, I watched as Callie pressed a kiss to the top of Trav’s head then gave him the most adorable smile. I admire her commitment to him. I understand it. I respect it. But, do I like it?
What do you think?
Often, I swear I’m this woman’s bitch!
Because under any other circumstances this shit wouldn’t fly. I usually have to beat women off me with a stick. Yet, I can’t even get this one to stay the night. Usually, even when they had husbands they wanted to stay the night. Not Callie...
My phone buzzes.
I scramble to get it out of my pocket and grimace when I read the text message on the screen.
Callie: I don’t think I’m coming tonight.
I scrub my face with my hands and exhale harshly. I want to see Callie and so does my cock.
Me: Why not?
Callie: The boys are here and I’m cooking dinner. It’ll be after twelve by the time we’re done. I’m really sorry, Austen.
Me: Yeah.
I’m tempted to shut this thing off, but I tap out another message.
Me: What about tomorrow then? Will I see you?
Callie: Yes, I’ll be there.
Me: Okay.
“Dad!” Brandon calls out, standing on the deck waving his arms around. “Come on, we’re going to miss Wild Kratts!”
“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” I say to him, bending down and picking up the last box. “Callie Stone, The Ghost...” I mumble to myself.
Callie
I STARE AT THE FACEPLATE of my phone for a beat at the message I sent Austen earlier. And I know he’s pissed. I can still feel the heat rising from the words on the lit screen of my phone, but there’s nothing I can do.
He must understand.
It’s getting up to twelve o’clock and it’s been such a wonderful day. We swam most of the afternoon and when Helen joined us later, we barbequed out on the back porch and talked for hours over baby back ribs, steak, mashed potatoes, and grilled corn on the cob.
Trav told the boys all sorts of stories and talked about the day Zac and Ethan were born. He was jovial and in a good mood. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin it by leaving.
I stand in the middle of Trav’s room. Tucking my phone in my pocket, I head back into the bathroom where he’s relaxing against the back of the bathtub. It’s balmy in here and smells of soap and the ocean breeze that slips in through the windows.
I sit on the small chair just outside the bathtub and look at him.
He smiles. His eyes are closed, and his dark hair is slicked to his scalp. “I had a really great day today, Callie.”
“I’m glad.”
Those gray marbles shoot open to pierce me as they do every single time, no matter how many years I’ve spent looking at them. They never look any less remarkable.
I take the cloth from his hand, soap it up, and begin to wash him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
No.
“Yeah, why do you ask that?”
He shuts his eyes. “I don’t know. You just seem like something is bothering you.”
Yeah, my best friend of twenty plus years is fucking my eighteen-year-old son.
“No, nothing. I’m fine.” I scrub his back and his arms. Then I wash his hair.
He exhales harshly when it’s all done and looks at me for a long time. “Thank you.”
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
I take a seat back on the stool while he relaxes and stares up at the ceiling. The constant drip of the water makes me sleepy. “Have you talked to Noah at all?”
“Yeah, why?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I just—”
I don’t know where to start.
“Have you talked to him about sex?”
“Of course.” He laughs almost out loud. “I’m sure Noah is past that stage. They all are, Callie.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I wipe my sweaty face with my hand and take a deep breath.
“I have dreams,” he admits. “About us. About waking up in a new body instead of this broken one.”
I wait for him to speak more. But he doesn’t. So, I try to encourage him to.
“What are we doing in them?” I ask.
“We’re dancing to that song you love—the Patrick Swayze one.” He smiles, and I do too. “We’re swimming. We’re walking on the beach.”
I laugh and tilt my head to the side to look at him, admiring the SEAL tattoo that’s inked on his shoulder.
“We’re doing all the normal stuff couples do.” He looks at me and purses his lips.
I run a hand through my hair.
“It’s why I like to sleep—to get away—to forget that everything is like this. I want to forget that I’ve let you down—that I’ve broken every promise I made to take care of you. I’m not the man I used to be, Callie.”
“You are the same person. Come on, Trav. None of that is true. You have taken care of us. We have a roof over our heads. We have money. We have a comfortable life.”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“You fought for this country, Trav, to keep us safe. That’s more than most men could say they’ve ever done.” My tone is pissed off, but he needs to hear my words and fucking believe them.
His chest shudders.
“Please don’t do this now, Trav,” I beg. “We’ve had such a nice day.”
I can feel his mood slipp
ing.
He ignores me and speaks. “Often, my dreams are better than when I wake up every day and realize I can’t go and take a SHIT without someone helping me to wipe my ass.”
“Travvv.”
“No, Callie,” he quips. “Just listen to me.”
I shoot up to stand, ready to narcotize him with his usual mood stabilizers so he can have a good night’s sleep. “I’m listening.”
“I’m sorry I’ve let you down.”
“Okay, Trav.” I exhale, feeling my impatience rising quickly. “Are you ready to get out?” I ask him, moving to get him out of the bathtub.
“Yeah, I think I’m ready for bed,” he says flatly, without looking at me.
I press a kiss to his temple and hold him close for a while.
~
After brushing Trav’s hair and tucking him in, he fell asleep quickly.
I slip out of the room, shutting the door behind me, and head down the stairs toward the kitchen. When I make it to the bottom of the steps, Ethan steps from out of nowhere, startling me.
“Hey,” I say, massaging my temples.
“Hey, Mom.”
We stroll down the hallway toward the kitchen where I pour myself a glass of water. When I spin around, his dark brows are knotted together. He comes closer. “Is Dad okay?”
“What do you mean?” I laugh.
“I don’t know. Well, Noah said he still has outbursts and they’re getting worse.”
“He’s fine, Ethan, really.”
“Mom, honestly. I know you don’t like to talk about this, but remember at the end of this summer, Noah will be gone and so will Zac and I. And that means you’ll be here with Dad, alone.”
You don’t think I know that!
“Yeah, I know that,” I tell him. “But Helen will be here to help most days.”
Ethan exhales and relaxes his posture against the kitchen cabinets. He peers down at me and cocks his head to the side. “Noah said he sits outside on the porch for hourrrs just looking out at the beach daydreaming, Mom.”
“Yeah, anddd...” My tone is exasperated.
“And, I don’t know.” He tosses his arms up in the air. “He just doesn’t seem like himself these days. I don’t know, maybe you can’t see it. But I can. Zac can too.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ethan. He misses the water.”
“I just think maybe you should consider putting him somewhere, like in a full-time care facility, Mo—”
“DON’T you dare, Ethan!” I slam my glass down on the center island so hard, it shatters. Broken glass flies everywhere. I approach Ethan, shoving a finger into his face, pushing up on my tiptoes to reach it. “DON’T you dare suggest that, Ethan! Ever!” I’m already crying. And I hate this—looking like a blubbering fool in front of my kids. “Your father has spent his life taking care of me, of you, of all of you, and serving this country, Ethan. How can you even suggest something like that?”
“Mom, you won’t be able to take care of him properly alone. That’s all I’m saying. The rest of your life will be taking care of him,” he says softly, his expression broken just like mine probably is—exactly how I feel inside these days.
“DON’T, Ethan! Don’t you ever suggest that!” My voice cracks.
“Okay, fuckkk, Mom.” Ethan puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m just thinking about you.” His face twists before he runs a hand over his hair. “I’m just thinking about how exhausting all this must be for you.”
“I’m fine. Your father is fine,” I snarl. “Everything is fine.”
When he reaches for me, I storm out of the kitchen and shove past Noah and Zac, who are suddenly standing in the doorway.
Marching down the hallway, I decide to take the elevator to the top floor, hitting the button, forcing it shut. As soon as the doors close, I bury my face in my hands and cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Austen
“YES!” CALLIE WHINES, HER fingers wrapped tightly in my hair as she grinds her pussy on my face.
I wanted to show her around. I wanted her to see how comfortable I made it for her for when she’s here, but she didn’t seem interested. She seemed distracted, upset. And my mood was no better.
Callie hadn’t been here for even twenty minutes before she jumped me.
No hugs. No conversation and hardly any kisses before she’d stripped out of her clothes and cornered me in the bathroom before I was about to shower.
I breathe in her sweet scent, tasting her juices as she writhes against me. Her long hair is everywhere. I’m down on my knees, my fingers digging into her ass cheeks. I’m in awe at the pose she’s in. Raw. Exposed. Dirty.
One toned leg of hers is on the floor and her other foot is steady against the top of the bathroom vanity.
She looks incredible. Hungry. Desperate to come.
I tease her lips with my nose and mouth, inhaling the natural scent of her skin. And she’s wet as fuck. I suck her clit into my mouth, teasing the swollen bud and back away, running my tongue along the outside of her pussy, watching her pink flesh quiver, savoring the way her slit opens and closes for me.
My dick hangs hard and heavy, ready to fuck, dripping pre-cum from the tip that I want so desperately to spill inside this pretty pussy. Callie whines again, lowering herself back down on my face. I stick my tongue out, teasing her before I pull her closer.
An odd sound escapes her throat on a high-pitched gasp. Her face contorts, and her flat tummy tightens. Her leg buckles and her supple tits bounce everywhere until her movements become jerky and crazed.
“I’m coming,” she moans before she rides my face harder, soaking my nose and mouth in everything her.
I lick and lap at her flesh, devouring her, wrenching her orgasm from her like it has my name written all over it.
“Austen,” she cries as she comes. “Austen.”
I ease up from the floor, pulling her to me. She pants for air, splaying her hand across my abs. I take a few steps backward, heading toward the door with the intention of leading her to the bedroom so I can fuck her in bed—the way I intended on christening this house with her presence.
She lifts her chin to look at me. Her lips red and supple. I slant my mouth over her and kiss her hard, savoring the taste of her tongue and the softness of her lips against mine.
Her blue eyes are beautiful tonight, but I can’t see what’s behind them. They’re shrouded in an emotion I can’t gauge.
She backs away from me, keeping my attention—her gaze hooded and sexy as she saunters away from me and spins around, allowing me to watch her sexy sway and take in the perfect curves of her body.
Who is this woman?
I run my fingers over the length of my dick, tugging on it a few times, feeling the painful ache in my balls that’s building from her making me wait.
She snatches up the lube from the counter and squirts a bit of it into her hand.
My brows press together as I watch her twist around and lay her body over the countertop. She smooths the lube along the slit of her ass, massaging the tight hole there for a bit, watching me watching her in the bathroom mirror as she does it, licking her lips seductively.
Is she drunk?
I bite my lip at the sight in front of me.
This woman is driving me insane tonight!
She leans forward and parts her ass cheeks with both of her hands, glancing at me over her shoulder. I ease toward her and run my fingers over that tiny little mole above her hip. I palm her ass cheek, kneading it harshly with my fingers.
She winces.
I grip my cock, brushing it over her asshole, savoring the sight as it opens and closes. Callie hisses as the broad head of my cock slides past the tight ring of her asshole. And then I’m in, fucking her hard—forcing her knees to slam against the cabinets beneath the vanity—moaning like a bitch.
Soon, I’m covered in sweat, groaning her name, reveling in the vision of her beautiful face twisted in euphoria in the mirror.
My dick swells and my balls tighten.
Her mouth falls open, but the only thing that comes out is my name as stuttered breaths on her lips. “Fu-fu-fu-fuck me, Austen. Fuck me!”
I frown, in shock at her violent demand.
But I pick up speed, slamming into her harder until I explode, letting out sounds I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of my soul before in my life as I fill her asshole with my cum.
I slump over her, putting my chest to her sweaty back, pressing my nose into her hair. She turns to her left and smiles, encouraging me to kiss her. We rest that way for a while, just breathing, looking at our reflections in the mirror.
I run my fingers through her hair, inhaling the flowery scent that lingers on her strands.
“What’s the matter?” I whisper against her ear.
She lets out a groan as I pull out of her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
That bad, huh?
“I made dinner. And I bought a few things I knew you’d like,” I tell her.
She exhales but then doesn’t speak. “Thank you, Austen.”
I smile.
“I just want to sleep here for a little while then I have to go. I promised them I’d be there to watch the fireworks tonight,” she says.
“Okay.”
We both stand straight. I take her hand and lead her across the room to the shower.
Callie
I KEEP MY EYES ON Austen when he emerges from the bathroom as I sit on the bed, wrapped in a towel. His broad chest is on display. My eyes flicker down his washboard abs to the white bath towel around his waist. His hair is damp, making it appear darker and his eyes are tired, but he still looks delectable as hell. He opens a drawer in the dresser across the room and pulls out something. He holds it out as he steps toward me.