All For You (Boys of the South)

by Marquita Valentine

There’s a light pressure on my arm. It travels down the length of it, stopping at my hand and covering it. I stare in amazement as West laces his fingers with mine.

  I lightly stroke his palm, and his breath hitches. Glancing at him, I find his gaze on me.

  “With anyone else, this would be nothing, but with you, holding hands is like getting to third base on a first date.”

  I blush, not sure if he’s complimenting me or insulting me, because he thinks I’m playing hard to get. Not that it should matter to him. We’ve had sex before. Twice. The second time didn’t hurt as much as the first, but he’d left his mark on me, and not just on the underside of my left breast.

  “I don’t want this to end,” he whispers in my ear, pinning me to the bed with the lower half of his body.

  “Tomorrow?”

  He leans up and over me, his dark eyes glazed with lust and some emotion that my heart hopes is the match to mine. “I’ll pick you up before school and take you home with me after classes are over.”

  “What about—” His St. Benedictine medallion hits my neck, and I hook a finger on the chain, pulling him closer.

  “I’ll take care of that.” He kisses me, tongue pushing into my mouth. “From now on, you’re safe from everyone, including me.”

  My heart flips in my chest. “You’re drunk,” I giggle.

  “And you’re not?”

  “Only a little.”

  He surges forward and I moan. “That’s it, baby. Let me know how much you love this.”

  Only he hadn’t bothered to show up the next day, and I’d been late to school. In calculus, he didn’t even look my way, and though I waited like a lovesick fool by his locker, he brushed past me and headed straight into Charlie Foster’s arms.

  *** *** ***

  West

  Just as I think I’m finally making progress, albeit small, with McKenzie, she snatches her hand away. Hurt, confusion, and anger roll over her face, transforming her from trusting to wary.

  The doorbell rings, and she’s off like a shot to answer the front door. I follow her, getting out my wallet to pay.

  “Hold on. Let me get my purse,” I hear her tell the delivery guy.

  I hand him a couple of twenties and tell him to keep the change.

  “Thanks,” McKenzie says as she shuts the door.

  “You’re welcome.” Great plan, I think, wanting to punch the wall. At home, I thought she’d be more relaxed and in control of her environment, with me playing offense. Only she’s more skittish than ever and I’m unsure how to reach her. “Lead the way to the kitchen. I’m starving.”

  She gives me a look, then leaves me standing there.

  I’m an idiot.

  Following her to the kitchen, I take in her house. It’s nice and cozy inside, nothing fancy, and everything’s functional. There are a lot of pictures of McKenzie when she was little and as she grew older. One I recognize from our senior portraits. I pause to study it, staring at the beautiful girl with sad eyes.

  “My dad likes to put up my pictures everywhere,” she says, like she has to apologize for anything.

  “I don’t blame him, but I’d put your picture up everywhere in my room for totally different reasons.”

  “Oh.”

  Then she starts for the kitchen again. It’s right off the living room, and you can see the television from the table in the center. Her dad had to be the one in charge of placement.

  She sets the pizza on the table and begins fixing drinks, pulling out plates and napkins. I want to help her, but I’m on shaky ground and she’s getting quieter by the minute. Pretty soon, I’m sure she’ll have some excuse as to why I should leave and that’ll be all she wrote.

  Flipping one of the chairs around, I join her at the table. Immediately, I chow down on the pizza while she does the same.

  “I have an uncle.”

  She blinks at me, finishes chewing her last bite of pizza, and says, “So do I.”

  “Is he in jail?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Mine is.”

  “For what?”

  “Gangbanger.”

  That gets her attention. “That’s not funny. Just because I made a stupid remark—”

  “He killed people, raped women, and sold drugs. It’s why my grandparents sent my dad to school here, to get away from that life. They had friends in Charlotte who made sure he stayed in school and kept his nose clean,” I say, nonchalantly. “Turned out he has a head for math, and a talent for soccer.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yeah.” I grin, and then turn serious. “But my uncle, he’s still in jail. We visit him in the summer, take him things, and remind ourselves that it could be any of us.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “No one around here knows.” I drink some of the soda she poured for me. “But they probably think it about me.”

  “That you’re in the popped-collar gang?”

  I throw at discarded piece of crust at her. It lands on her plate, and she laughs. “I’m telling you, because I want you to have this piece of information about me.”

  Understanding dawns. This is something she can use against me, something that could hurt me and my family’s reputation.

  “My parents never got married,” she says. “My momma said it was an archaic institution that subjugates women.”

  That was certainly one way to look at it. “What do you think?”

  “That what she thought and what she chose doesn’t mean I have to be like her.”

  “What if she came back, and wanted to get married?”

  “I would have a difficult time believing it was her,” McKenzie says firmly. A warning, I think.

  “So you’d write her off? No chance to prove to you that she’s different?”

  A small smile curves the corners of her mouth. “I said difficult, not impossible.”

  In that instant, I know I haven’t lost her.

  Chapter Eight

  McKenzie

  “I had a nice time tonight,” I say, standing beside West’s car. It’s almost time for my dad to get home, and I don’t think he’d be too happy to see a guy in our house after midnight.

  “Nice enough to want to do it again? Maybe tomorrow night?” West wraps his arms around me, and my shivering body begins to warm.

  “Depends on if I get to drive or not.”

  “You can pick me up, if you want.” He grins and kisses my forehead. “Your truck is much roomier than mine.”

  Why would we need a bigger vehicle? “Roomier for what?”

  He laughs softly. “God, you’re innocent.”

  “Oh... oh.” I bump him with my hip. “You’re so cocky.”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “How can any female resist that?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” I say with a firm nod. “I’ll go out with you again.”

  He steps away, and I wish that his kiss had travelled lower. “Be prepared to have the pants charmed off you.”

  “Just my pants?” I tease and then slap my hand over my mouth. I did not just say that to him.

  He wiggles his brows. “Hopefully more than that.” Opening the car door, he starts to get in and then turns to look at me. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself with me, or flirt, or say whatever crosses your mind. Okay?”

  For some reason I want to cry, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from doing it. “‘Kay.”

  “And McKenzie?”

  “Yes?”

  He lets go of the door, strides right up to me and kisses me for so long and so hard that I forget all the reasons why I shouldn’t be kissing him. All the reasons why I shouldn’t want to kiss him.

  Finally, he pulls away, and presses the palm of his hand to my heart. “Good.”

  “My heart is beating like I’ve just shoveled an entire mound of top soil and you’re happy?”

  In answer, he takes my hand and flattens it over his chest. We’re standing there,
palm to palm, heart to heart. His heart races beneath my hand, thumping hard against his chest.

  “That’s what it does every time I’m with you.”

  ***

  The next evening, West picks me up at six and drives into the city. We go to a posh restaurant that has beautiful place settings and servers who scrape off the tablecloths with small, flat metal bars that are curved at the bottom every chance they get.

  West and I talk about everything, nothing’s off-topic. Not high school, not college, not even his former relationship with Charlie. He even reveals that he didn’t actually want to go to Georgetown, but his dad had insisted, wanting to create a tradition for years to come.

  “I couldn’t disappoint him,” he says. “But I wanted to go to Carolina.”

  “So transfer,” I say, stabbing at my steak. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you talk to him for me.”

  “If you want.” I smile over my glass of water, and he winks at me. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him doing that.

  “What about you?”

  “This is my last year, I’ll have an associate’s degree in office management and then I plan on helping my dad run Walsh’s.”

  “Just like that?”

  I nod and set my glass down. “Just like that.”

  “Maybe you can hire me as your C.P.A.”

  “Won’t you be travelling the world, soccer star?”

  His chocolate eyes travel down my face, to my neck, and lower still to the flash of bare skin that rises above my neckline. “I don’t know. Seems like there’s an entire world I could spend time exploring right here.” Suddenly, I feel his hand on my knee, slowly gliding up my bare leg.

  My nipples tighten and I squirm in my seat, trying to relieve the pressure between my thighs.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers, the tips of his fingers at the edge of my skirt. “Or should I keep going? Maybe have a little dessert before dessert?”

  “I-I—”

  The server appears, with his scraper, and West sits up, his hand now on his glass. I press my hands against my cheeks, trying to cool them, but unless I dump the entire glass of water on my head, there’s no other help for it.

  “Dessert?” the server asks.

  This time I look at West. What could it hurt to flirt with him, to take this date to as far as I dare? Gazing into his eyes, I say, “Yes, I’d love to have some dessert, and I know he would, too.”

  Once dessert is served, West pushes a blue box across the table. I recognize the packaging and my eyes go wide.

  “Is that from—?”

  “Open it, please.”

  Hands shaking, I do. Nestled inside is a pair of dainty earrings shaped like flower blossoms. They’re pink with white stones in the middle. “These are beautiful.”

  “I didn’t know your birthstone, so I went with pink topaz and diamonds. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s more than okay, but I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Going on a second date with me is more than I deserve. You owe me nothing in return, McKenzie. Nothing,” he says quietly, and the ice around my heart melts a little more.

  After driving back to Forrestville, I fully expect him to take me home and I fully expect to be perfectly fine with it.

  Our earlier flirting and banter has transitioned into more mundane things, like work and classes.

  “I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for giving me the chance to get to know you a little better. I won’t pester you anymore,” he says with finality in his voice, and I panic.

  “Are your parents home?”

  “No,” he says, his voice growing rough. “They’re gone for the week, couples retreat at The Grove Park Inn, and won’t be back until next Thursday. Why?”

  “Because,” I say, licking my lips and trying again. “Because.”

  “Please,” I think I hear him whisper.

  “I told my dad I was spending the night at Julia’s, that you were dropping me off there.” Not a complete lie. I had told my dad I’d most likely go over to Julia’s after my date with West.

  “So you want me to take you—”

  “To your house,” I say, throwing all caution, all rational thought to the wind. “I want to spend the night with you.”

  ***

  I’ve never seen someone drive so fast yet so carefully.

  West weaves in and out of traffic like a pro. “Beau Montgomery taught me.”

  “Of course you know him.” Because who else would live in The Oaks but NASCAR royalty?

  “Don’t… just don’t start thinking about that.”

  I take his hand. “I’m not. It was an observation, nothing more. I’m not changing my mind.”

  Another hard left, and we’re in his neighborhood, then in his driveway. Letting go of my hand, he throws open his door and races around to mine, pulling me out and swooping me up in his arms.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” I assure him again.

  He presses a series of numbers on an outdoor keypad, and the door clicks open. He takes two steps inside and sets me on my feet, kissing the top of my head before shutting the door.

  I take his hand and he leads the way to his room.

  “You can, you know,” he says as we climb the stairs. “You can change your mind at any time.”

  “I’m not drunk, West. I know exactly what I’m doing,” I say, once we’re in his room.

  He shuts the door, then locks it and looks at me. “That’s to keep people out, not you in.”

  “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?” I wrap my arms around him and feel his body shake. “I want to be here.”

  “Because for too long, everyone else had power over you. It’s your turn.”

  I lean back. “So I’m in charge?”

  He nods.

  “Then strip.”

  Immediately, he gets as nude as the day he was born, and shows me exactly how excited he is.

  “Wow.” I can’t stop looking at him, where he’s hard and huge. And hung. And huge. And oh dear God. What am I going to do with that? “I think you need to take over now.”

  My gaze flickers to him, and instead of a smug smile, all I see is a raw need for me. Slowly, he unzips the side of my dress, his hands following the contours of my body as he does.

  As he pushes the material over my shoulders, he kisses each side, and I tremble. My thighs grow slick as I stand there, wearing nothing but a lacy black bra, matching thong, and heels.

  “Next time, I think I’ll let you keep the heels on,” he murmurs.

  I take off my heels, push them to the side and face him once more.

  Then he touches me, tracing a line from my neck, down the center of my chest, to my stomach and lower, until he cups me and groans his approval. “You’re soaking your panties.”

  “That’s all your fault.” He kneels in front of me, and my hands go to his shoulders to balance myself as he pulls the flimsy lace down. I step out of them and he throws my thong across the room.

  Cupping my hips, he pulls me closer. I fight the urge to cover myself, then I give up and place my hand over the curls between my legs.

  “Don’t do that, baby.” He licks the space between each finger. “I want to taste you.”

  “I’m not… that is… you’re the only… ah…”

  His head jerks up. “I’m the only one you’ve ever been with?”

  I nod, my face fiery red now, and wait for him to laugh or ask what’s wrong with me. Only he doesn’t do any of those things.

  Instead, he leans his head against my thigh and exhales. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His eyes close, long lashes tickling my skin.

  “Are we done, then?”

  His eyes snap open. “Hell, no.”

  In one smooth movement, he stands, unsnaps my bra and fastens his mouth to mine. The back of my knees hit his bed and I fall down, West tumbling with me.

  Our bare skin presses against one another, m
y breasts to his chest, his hardness to my softness.

  “You feel so damn good.” He takes my mouth again, his tongue plunging inside, while his fingers cup me between my legs.

  A long finger thrusts inside of me and I gasp into his mouth, then he pushes a second one in. I grip his biceps, the initial sting wearing away to something more pleasurable.

  In and out he moves, his fingers curling, finding a spot that makes me cry out and move my hips restlessly against his.

  “There you go,” he says, his voice rough.

  He presses open-mouthed, hot kisses against my jaw and throat...making his way down my chest to find my hard nipples. He sucks one deep into the hot recesses of his mouth, and I dig my nails into his skin.

  Still his fingers move in that same spot, making me wetter, making my head thrash back and forth, as I sob his name. I’m so close, so close. Suddenly, he slides all the way down my body and puts his mouth on me, licking my clit firmly.

  I go over the edge, clawing at the bedcovers. I’ve barely have time to recover before I hear the crinkle of a wrapper. He’s over me, pushing into me, and I’m spreading my legs wider, wanting him as deep as he can get.

  My head falls back, the pleasure/pain of him stretching me as I try to accommodate his size overwhelming. His breath is harsh against my ear.

  He rolls over, pulling me on top of him, gripping my hips tight, so tight I’ll have marks on my skin. “Ride me… ride me hard.”

  I place my hands on his broad chest, but instead of moving, I lean down and lick his nipples, take one into my mouth and bite the tip. He jerks beneath me, begging me to screw him senseless, only he uses a different word.

  “Now, McKenzie, I’m about to—”

  I sit up, and rock hard upon him, my hips moving in an awkward rhythm, until he helps me find the right one.

  “Lean forward,” he orders and I comply.

  My breasts brush his face and he buries his face between them, licking the valley of skin. He turns his head to suck on a nipple as I ride him. A corresponding tug from where we are joined makes me squeal.

  He swells inside of me and I bear down.