All For You (Boys of the South)

by Marquita Valentine

  “Sit up, sit up… need to see you.”

  I raise my hands above my head, rocking my hips to his rhythm and let them down slowly, caressing my breasts, pinching my nipples, and arching my back.

  “So damn sexy.”

  My hair brushes his thighs and he shoves his cock into me, rubbing his thumb against my swollen clit. I cry out, coming hard and seeing nothing, yet entirely aware of everything.

  He grunts, groans, and growls a string of curses as he orgasms. His hands travel up and down my back, bringing me to him. He kisses my cheek, my lips, and my nose. Sweet, loving tokens of affection that set my heart free.

  “McKenzie,” he whispers as we roll to the side. “McKenzie, McKenzie, McKenzie.” It’s like my name is a prayer or a plea.

  “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here,” I assure him. I’m not going anywhere. Not after this.

  “Stay with me.”

  I nod, kiss his lips and snuggle against him. “Forever.”

  Toward dawn, he wakes me again, his mouth between my thighs and his hands on my breasts. I cry out my pleasure, but he keeps going, making me come again and again, until I’m begging him to stop—to put his cock inside of me.

  “I need you,” I say.

  He lifts my legs over his shoulders and thrusts deep. My hips lift off the bed. “Sore?”

  “A little.”

  “Good.” He does something with his hips that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. “Because I’m not done with you.”

  “I’m not done with you either.” I bite his arm.

  He pulls out of me, flips me on my stomach, shoves a pillow under my hips, and mounts me from behind. “Ready for your next ride?”

  All I can do is moan in answer.

  Chapter Nine

  West

  If this isn’t the best winter break I’ve ever had, I don’t know what one was. My days are filled with hanging out with McKenzie, at her house and at mine. I make love to her as often as she allows in my bed, in her bed...on the floor, in the shower.

  Everywhere and anywhere.

  Closing my eyes, I thrust forward into her tight heat, sinking deep inside of her. She clutches at my back, her mouth on my shoulder, hot puffs of air scalding me.

  “More,” she groans, loud as ever. Last night, I had to cover her mouth with my hand when she came, because the last thing I wanted was my parents pounding on my door.

  Today no one’s home, so my girl can yell loud enough to wake the dead, and I won’t stop her.

  I pick up the pace and push up on my arms, watching her tits bounce. Her nipples are dark, tight, and begging for my mouth. Dipping my head, I nip at one and she moans, squeezing my dick with her inner muscles.

  My eyes water. This girl is going to kill me.

  Nuzzling her throat, I tongue a path to her collarbone. She turns her head, her hands moving from my back to sink in my hair. She’s urging me to go harder, faster… until we’re banging my bed against the wall. She screams my name and I growl hers, joining her a few thrusts later. My hips won’t stop moving; I can’t stop moving. It feels too damn good, even in the aftermath of my orgasm.

  “West,” she whispers in a voice I don’t recognize. Or maybe it’s because I do recognize that voice that I finally stop moving.

  I fix my gaze on her, on her flushed face, her pretty eyes and full mouth. There’s a hesitancy residing there. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are we…?”

  “Exclusive?” I’d certainly thought so. I mean, we hadn’t come right out and said it, but I didn’t want to be with anyone else but McKenzie. And I was pretty damn certain that she wasn’t, and that certainty, coupled with the fact that she hadn’t ever slept with anyone but me, trampled down any jealousy threatening to rise.

  “A secret.”

  “Oh baby,” I say softly, tenderly kissing her nose, her cheeks, and her mouth. “I’m proud, and you’re sure as hell loud, about being your man.”

  A giggle, and then a sigh. “We don’t go out on dates, at least not since you took me to Charlotte for dinner”

  “Kind of like having you all to myself.” I move my hips slightly and her eyes flutter close, then open. “But I’ll take you anywhere you want to go in public; just don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

  She smiles, all at once shy, thankful, and sweet. “Julia said there’s a party at The Oaks this Friday, and I thought—”

  Oh, shit. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” She licks her lips. “I have something appropriate to wear.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then tell me, because I’m starting to think the worst.”

  “Because I’m going with Charlie.” Her hands leave my hair and my head drops to her chest. “Please don’t be upset. I have to go with her. Our parents have certain expectations—especially mine, and it’s going to be difficult as it is when I transfer to Carolina next year. Besides I made a promise to her, and I think I owe her that much, after all these years.”

  She says nothing to that.

  I roll off her, hopping up from the bed to dispose of the condom in my private bathroom. When I get back, not even a minute later, McKenzie’s still laying where I left her, but her gaze is on the ceiling.

  I try again to make her understand. “I made a promise to her, before you and I—”

  “Hooked up?”

  “You’re not a hookup.” I crawl onto the bed and take her in my arms. Her skin is cold, and I try to warm it by pulling the covers over us both. “You’re my—”

  “Bootycall.”

  “McKenzie Meadow Walsh,” I growl in warning.

  “Rebound girl.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Stating the obvious.”

  “You’re mine, damn it.” I lift her pointed little chin and land a hard kiss on her mouth, punctuating every subsequent word with more hard kisses. “Mine, my girlfriend, my lover, and my friend.”

  “Then cancel your date with her.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she promised that if I go to with her to this party, then afterwards she would tell our parents that we were no longer together, and then they’d stop waiting for a marriage proposal to happen.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think she’s stringing you along, and as soon as this party is over, she’ll come up with another excuse as to why the two of you can’t tell your parents. Then another, until you forget why y’all broke up and get back together with her.”

  Her assessment of my relationship with Charlie is spot on, but it pisses me off, because my entire focus has shifted to McKenzie. I’m not that guy anymore. “You don’t understand. After Friday night, I’m free.”

  She looks at me skeptically.

  “Please, baby… you’re my everything.”

  Tears fill her eyes as she pushes me away. “If I were truly your everything, then I wouldn’t have had to ask you to break your date with her. You would have done it, before we got to this point.”

  She leaves the bed, her curvy body with its supple muscles gracing my room as she dresses.

  “Yeah, well if I were your everything, then you would be more understanding of the barrel she has me over.” I throw the nearest pillow across the room. Childish and ineffectual.

  “Bless your heart, Weston Diaz, for having to make a hard decision.” Her lips smash shut and she slips on her shoes.

  Damn Charlie, and damn me to for putting McKenzie in this position. “Call you this evening?”

  She pauses at the door, her hand on the frame. “If you’re not too busy with Charlie.”

  “I’m not too busy with anyone,” I snap.

  Her eyes turn hard. “Good to know that the old West Diaz is still in there.” Then she walks out of my room.

  “Knew I should have picked her up today,” I mutter to the wall. Then I settle back down in bed, crossing my arms behind my head, and plotting my
next move. I’ll give her some time to cool off, and then do one better than calling her.

  I’m going to drive to her house and take her out on a date. In public, with a loudspeaker announcing our arrival, if need be.

  If, If, If.

  If she would have stayed, we could be sleeping right now, dozing in and out of consciousness, and then in a few I would have woken her up with my mouth between her gorgeous thighs.

  Aroused and antsy, I climb out of bed. No way I’ll ever relax until all of this is resolved. I put on a pair of grey sweats, a Georgetown t-shirt, and my running shoes, heading outside to run. But as I put my hand on the back door, my dad stops me.

  “We need to talk,” he says, motioning for me to follow him.

  Heart pounding, I trail after him.

  Chapter Ten

  McKenzie

  I haven’t felt this numb since high school, since the Monday West never showed to pick me up, and decided that I no longer existed. My brain and my heart are warring with each other, one telling me to go to his house and bring the pain, while the other tells me to give him another chance.

  Maybe I should have let him strip in the parking lot of Tanaka’s, and left him stranded after all.

  “What did those plants ever do to you?” my dad asks.

  I start at the sound of his voice, almost overturning the clay pot of baby ferns. “Nothing.”

  He moves to stand beside me, rubbing a frond between his fingers. “Looks good. Who’s it for?”

  “Me.” Like everything I grow, I’m the only one who sees it. Well, besides my dad. “Maybe Julia, but she kills plants just by looking at them.”

  “Your momma had a green thumb, just like you,” he says and I glance up at him in surprise. He never willingly talks about her, at least not without a six-pack or two behind him.

  “So do you.”

  “Nah, not like she did. I swear that woman could talk plants into growing.”

  “With a name like Wisteria Holland, what else could she do?”

  My dad grunts in answer before saying, “In another year, I’ll be ready for you to start shouldering more of the responsibilities at Walsh Lawn Service. Are you up for that?”

  “Do frogs jump?”

  My dad laughs, letting go of the fern and the subject of the woman who left both of us. “We’re invited to the Diaz house for a Christmas Eve party. Feel like going?”

  If I say no, he’ll know something’s up, and if I say yes, he’ll ask me why I’d want to go hang out with people I barely know. Shrugging, I say, “I dunno. What do you feel like doing?”

  He takes a pull from his bottle of beer, then says, “Diaz is nice enough. So’s his wife, but I’d feel out of place there, like if I touch something, a maid will be right behind me, wiping away any trace of my existence. I’d rather be here at home, watching A Christmas Story marathon with my little girl, and eating take-out Chinese.”

  I would have given anything for any trace of my existence to have been wiped away during high school, until my tormentor-turned-lover did exactly that. “Then we won’t go.”

  “You shouldn’t feel like that, too.” He moves the clay pot to one side. “You’re just as good as the rest of them.”

  “Never thought I wasn’t,” I say lightly.

  “Mac, you might fool everyone else around here, but you can’t fool your daddy.” His gaze turns harsh. “Weston Diaz is damned lucky you chose him, out of every guy around here, to spend time with. Make sure he knows it, and treats you accordingly.”

  My heart jumps into my throat and all I can do is wrap my arms around the one man who’s always taken care of me and hug him tight.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Would you mind if I go hang out with Julia instead of watching Duck Dynasty with you?”

  He lets go of me. “Go on. Have some fun. Be twenty for once, but not too twenty.”

  Grinning, I text Julia and press a kiss on my dad’s cheek. “You don’t know how much I need this.”

  “Honey, we all need that, every now and again.”

  *** *** ***

  West

  For the past hour, I’ve been playing soccer with my dad in the backyard. Nothing too competitive, but he’s good enough to keep me on my toes.

  “Eyes on the ball, son,” he’d say before every pass.

  Once he gave me a tennis ball, and made me do drills with it. Tiny and greenish-yellow, I hated that thing, because it was so difficult to keep going and find in the grass… until I realized how much improved my game.

  I still refuse to play tennis though.

  “Ready to talk, old man,” I say, panting a little as I sweep my leg out and kick the ball back to him.

  He grabs the ball, tucking it under one arm and nods at the patio. A pitcher of water with lemons floating in it, and two glasses wait for us beside a veggie platter. My mother’s doing, I know.

  “Are you happy at school?” My dad pours water in the glasses and hands me one.

  This wasn’t the opening I thought he’d go for. Honestly, I thought he’d heard McKenzie and me.

  “Yes, sir.” This is not the time to talk about transferring to Carolina. Instead, I dig into the veggie tray and scarf down about a dozen carrot sticks.

  “And Charlotte?”

  A handful of grape tomatoes never make it to my mouth. I drop the handful in front of me on the table. “She seems to like school.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  I can’t lie to him; I’ve never been able to lie to him. “We’re not together anymore.”

  “This is good to know, especially after the strip show you performed at Tanaka’s.”

  “It wasn’t a strip show.”

  He raises his brow at me, and I hold up a hand. “Okay, so out of context, it was a strip show, but in context, it was me, willingly humiliating myself for—” I swallow, unsure how to phrase things best, so that I don’t make McKenzie sound awful, and I still manage to protect my parents’ image of me.

  I shake my head. That’s my problem. Image. All my life I’d been concerned with my image, and here I was, after everything, still concerned with how my dad might view me from now on.

  “McKenzie Walsh.”

  I nod, and then drop my gaze to my feet. “I wasn’t very nice to her in high school, Papi. You might say I was… no, you would say I bullied her. I humiliated her at every turn, and didn’t stop others from doing it, even after I’d stopped.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  My head snaps up. “Because I was a stupid boy who wanted a pretty girl to notice me. I have no excuse, and I don’t want to be excused.”

  My dad begins speaking in Spanish, something he saves for when he’s really pissed or really happy. Suddenly, I realize he’s praying. He’s asking God to forgive him for raising such a selfish child, to forgive him for failing me as a parent. He’s asking God for the Walsh’s forgiveness, especially the daughter’s, and I can’t help but choke up.

  Lo siento mucho de verdad, por favor perdóname.

  I’m so very sorry, please forgive me.

  “Por favor perdoname,” I whisper, taking my father’s hand. “It’ll never happen again.”

  He looks up at me, his dark eyes sad and thoughtful. I can see my reflection at the center of his disappointment. God, it hurts, but it’s no less than I deserve.

  “I hope so.” Then he rises from the chair, his hand slipping from my grip, and heads inside.

  The sun has set by the time I get up. My muscles protest, cramping a bit because I didn’t cool down the right way, as I walk. I head upstairs to my room and shower, changing into the most conservative, dad-friendly outfit I own without heading into church clothes territory.

  I take out my earrings, but leave on my medallion. A guy needs all the help he can get from above, after all. A quick check in the mirror and I’m off to McKenzie’s, with a stop at Charlie’s house first.

  I kn
ock on the door, instead of letting myself in like I would have done, and had been expected to do in the past.

  Mrs. Foster greets me, her brow scrunching. “Is there something wrong, Weston?”

  “No, ma’am. Is Charlie home?”

  “I’m right here,” Charlie says, bouncing into the foyer with her dog, Dozer, under her arm. “Where are you going in that—a job interview?”

  “No.”

  Her face dawns with understanding, and her lips thin. “Don’t do this.”

  “Charlie,” I begin, and then turn to her mom. “Mrs. Foster. We need to talk.”

  ***

  “She’s not here?” I stare up at Mr. Walsh, with what has to be the blankest look in history. “But she never goes out.”

  “You saying my daughter is some kind of—?”

  “I’m not saying she’s anything, but perfect and smart and beautiful.”

  Her dad frowns at me.

  “And really, really smart.”

  His frown disappears. “Those flowers for her?”

  “Unless you want them.”

  He barks out a laugh. “You got big ones.”

  “Any chance you’d like to share where she and Julia went?”

  He glances at the flowers, and then back at me. I fight the urge to cover my junk, in case he decides that my balls need resizing. “Cunningham’s. Mac texted me about ten minutes ago, asking about cab fare, so she wouldn’t get ripped off.”

  “Damn smart girl,” I say, before taking off and tossing, “Er, sorry, sir,” over my shoulder.

  “Don’t tell her I told you where she was,” he calls out after me.

  I race out of the driveway, almost halfway to my exit, when I realize that Cunningham’s is for the twenty-one and older crowd. And I’d left my fake ID at home.

  Grimacing, I call the one person who can help me. Too bad he’s also the one person who’s likely to tell me to shove it.

  Chapter Eleven

  McKenzie

  “That asshole,” Julia shouts over the music, and then takes another shot.