by Kacey Shea
“Same ol’ same ol’. Though you should see the ’64 Corvette we’re restoring. She’s a beauty. A lot of work, but we’ll have her purring in no time. How’s the alignment on the Jeep holding up?” Cars are our thing. It’s how he shows his love.
“It’s good.”
“I still think you should’ve gone with a Chevy.”
“Dad,” I chide. “I’m a grown woman. I can pick out my own car.”
“I know you are. You’re keeping up on the maintenance? That’s important.”
“I just changed the oil last week.”
“That’s my girl.” I can’t help but beam.
“Anything else new?” It’s as if he already knows I’m holding out on him. I haven’t told him about Chase yet. But I want to.
“Well, I met someone . . .”
“Oh?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “I’m sure he’s nowhere good enough for my daughter, but he must be halfway decent if you picked him. Tell me about him.”
“His name is Chase and he drives a ’68 Camaro.”
“Nice. Fully restored?”
“Of course,” I say as the doorbell rings. I step to the front door to check the peephole and find Chase standing there freshly showered and shaved with a paper bag clutched in his hand. His eyes watch the door with that deep, melty chocolate gaze I’m fully addicted to. Yum.
“And you’re dating him for more than his ride, I hope?”
I open the door with a laugh. I mouth “Dad” to Chase and he nods and walks past me to place the contents of his bag in the kitchen fridge.
“Of course I am. He’s a firefighter, and funny, and sweet, and I really like him.” Chase straightens at my words, slams the refrigerator door, and stalks toward me with that gleam in his eye. Oh yes. That’s my Chase. I don’t process what my dad asks as Chase kisses my neck opposite of the phone, then licks his way upward to suck my earlobe.
“Dad, I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“That’s okay, kiddo. We’ll just talk next week.” I have to bite my lip to not moan out my good-bye with Chase’s hands already working their way inside my shorts. One is on my ass and the other dives straight to my clit. As soon as I end the call I release a loud moan.
“Hi,” Chase says, and with a yank he has my shorts and panties off right in the middle of my kitchen.
“Hi,” I squeak as he drops to his knees and runs his tongue from my thigh to my pulsing center. “Oh, yes. Please. This is a nice surprise.”
“I brought dinner.” Chase blows gently at my wet folds and sends a shiver of want and need across my flesh. “But I changed my mind. First I’m having dessert.”
“Eat away,” I remark smartly.
“Mmm hmm.” We both moan as he does what I just suggested.
“Lean against the counter. Hold on tight,” he directs and I step back and brace my hands on the countertop to obey. He follows, scoots on his knees before me, and his hands lift my legs over his shoulders so he’s intimately close to my center. “I love this pussy,” he says and my core tightens at his words. I lose my ability to answer coherently as he uses his hands, mouth, and tongue to eat me out with more enthusiasm than a kid set loose in a candy store.
It’s erotic, looking down to watch him, this strong, powerful man at his knees before me, bringing me pleasure while I’m still half clothed and he’s fully dressed. He sparks my libido fast and furiously. All the foreplay from last night that never went anywhere surges to the surface and pools between my legs. Those chocolate eyes look up at me while his tongue works quick strokes over and around my clit, and one hand pumps two fingers deep inside. My gaze locks with his as I barrel toward the edge of my orgasm. So close. So fast. So good.
“Fuck!” I shout. “I’m close, yes, yes, yes,” I pant.
“Give it to me, Callie. Come on my face,” Chase pumps two of his fingers in and out with as much force as he would his cock. His tongue circles my clit again and when he sucks, hard, I come completely undone.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, love.” He removes his fingers and stands to kiss my lips. His tongue plays with mine and we both work to remove the clothing between us. He stops me as I try to remove his pants. “Wait.” He removes a condom from his back pocket, sets it on the counter, and gives me that knowing smirk. “Okay, you may continue.”
I giggle and he chuckles as I push his pants to the ground. He steps out of them and kicks his socks and shoes off in the process. He reaches for the condom but I snatch it from him, feeling bold and sexy and daring. I rip open the package and roll the rubber over his erection.
Chase grips my shoulders and before I can process what he’s doing, I’m bent over the countertop and he thrusts deep inside. Oh, God, he’s so hot when he takes control like this. I have to grab the ledge to keep from sliding and my breasts push onto the cool stone with each drive of his hips.
“You have such a clean kitchen,” he says into my ear, causing me to grin.
“I like things clean.”
“I remember.” He pounds into me harder, faster from behind. His hand weaves into the curls at the base of my neck and pulls hard so I arch up. He doesn’t waver from his pace. Our skin slaps together and the sound fills the room along with my moans and his pants. “But you get dirty for me. Don’t you?”
“Yes!” I shout and he thrusts inside me once more, this time even harder and deeper than the others. He stills with a deep groan as he fills the condom with his seed.
“God, that was good,” he says at my ear and then relaxes, releasing me from his grip only to pick me up.
“Is this a real fireman’s carry?” I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“No, you’re much too precious to carry that way. This is the way your fireman carries you.” He moves us to the living room and sets me on the edge of my sofa. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” He walks to the bathroom and I can’t help but watch his naked ass retreat. God, he has a great butt.
He’s only gone a few moments and I’m feeling pretty great after one and a half orgasms. I say half because I didn’t come while he was inside me, but it felt really good the way we fit together. And I was so close, so that’s gotta count for something. Besides, knowing my man, he’ll have li’l Chase up and at ’em before the night is over.
He returns to stand above me clad only in his underwear. “Snuggle?” His brow lifts on one side the same way his lips curve into a smirk. I fall a little more in love.
“Yes, please.” I scoot over and lie back so there’s room for him. He squishes me into the corner, snakes his arm under my body and pulls me close.
Happy, relaxed, content, I sigh into the crook of his arm. My fingers splay across his chest which is still damp from our activity and I hook one leg over both of his. His right hand traces small circles with his thumb from where it rests at my hip.
“I really like spending time with you, Chase,” I say into his chest, transfixed at the way it rises and falls at a steady pace, his heartbeat a thrum in my ear.
“I feel the same, Callie.”
The affirmation gives me the courage I need to finally pose the questions I’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“We’re together together, right? Exclusive?” I hold my breath and wait for his reply. Maybe it’s my imagination or me reading into things, but it’s almost as if his muscles tighten. The energy in the room shifts and my body alters from relaxed to tense.
“Why? Are you planning to fuck other guys?” His voice is hard and angry and I pop up on one elbow to meet his accusing glare.
“What? No! I just want to make sure we’re together. It feels stupid to ask if you want to be my boyfriend, but then Jill said something this morning and I started to question—”
“Don’t listen to your friends, Callie. They’re probably just jealous.”
“No, it’s not that. They care about me, and if I’m honest I’ve wondered about the status of our relationship.” His
angry scowl transforms to one of hurt.
“I don’t like labels, Callie. We don’t need to classify our relationship for other people simply to conform to society’s norms. I know what I feel, and I thought you felt the same.”
“I’m only seeing you.” I use my hand to tilt his face toward mine and brush a kiss across his lips. “I only want you.” The hard line of his jaw loosens just slightly and his lips pull to one corner of his face. I kiss him again.
“I want you, too.”
“So, that’s settled.” I lay my head back on his chest. He pulls my naked body closer.
“Why don’t we ever go to your apartment?” I blurt. Smooth, Callie. Mental facepalm at my awkward transition to another question that’s been weighing on my mind.
He hesitates a moment and I don’t have it in me to glance at his face. Instead, I listen to the rapid pulse of his heart.
“Do you want to come to my place?”
“Well, sure. I mean, it’s starting to feel like maybe you don’t want me there.”
“No. That’s not it.” His hands leave my body and he exhales loudly. My nerves go on alert as he continues. “I told you I have roommates, and quite frankly my place is a dump compared to your house. But if it means that much to you . . .”
“I’d like to see your place.”
“Umm . . .” His index fingers tap out a nervous beat on the couch cushions. What? What is he not telling me here? Maybe he is a slob? Maybe he doesn’t want me to meet his roommates? I sit up, scoot to the opposite end of the couch to grab the throw blanket I keep draped over the side and cover myself. As if somehow that will protect me from his answers.
“What? What is it, Chase?” I whisper the words and study his face.
“You’ve already been to my place.” He gulps and meets my stare.
“What are you talking about? No, I haven’t!” I shake my head as confusion clouds my thoughts.
“Last night. The party. That was my apartment.”
“What?” Hurt seeps into my very core and I pull the blanket tight and curl my feet under my body.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you. It was stupid that I didn’t. I just—things are complicated.”
“Who are your roommates?” I practically demand.
“James, well, Pants, Troy, and Cameron.”
“You invited me to a party at your house, to meet your brother, and you didn’t bother to tell me you lived there as well?” Fuck. I’m worked up now. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me this. Panic, anger, disappointment, they all float around the room and taint the love-making bubble we had minutes before.
“Jesus, Callie. Calm down. I didn’t tell you because it’s complicated.”
“So you said!” I yell.
“Look. My family is all shades of fucked up. We’re not like you and your family where your dad calls to chat. You wouldn’t understand. We’re not perfect. We’re not normal. And I don’t like talking about it.”
“Don’t even come at me with that excuse. My family is far from perfect.”
Chase stands from the couch and stomps into the kitchen, yanks his clothes back on quicker than he pulled them off not twenty minutes ago. His movements are rough, rigid, and I know he’s upset, but I am, too.
I don’t want him to leave like this.
“Hey, where are you going? Stay. Let’s talk about this,” I stand and say with a calm I don’t really feel.
He pauses, meets my gaze and his eyes soften a little. He maintains eye contact but resumes dressing. “I have to go, Callie. I’m not mad at you, okay. I just don’t like to talk about my family. That’s why I haven’t invited you over. And I’m not leaving because I’m angry. I have to stop by a friend’s house. I’d stay over but I don’t know how long I’ll be, and you and I both have to work in the morning. I’m sorry. I wish things were different, but please don’t ask me to talk about my family again.”
I step into the kitchen, using the throw blanket as a makeshift robe. He bends down to tie the laces of his shoes. I really want to ask him about Pancake Bitch Tiff. But now is not the time. I’ve clearly upset him enough for one night.
He stands and blows out a deep breath, retrieves his keys from his pocket, and meets my gaze. We stare a long moment. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but then snaps it shut. I don’t want him to leave this way.
“I’m sorry, Chase. I don’t want you to leave. I won’t ask about your family. I didn’t know. Why don’t you stay a little longer? We’ll eat dinner together.”
His eyes soften into melted chocolate and he walks to me, crushes me in his arms for an embrace. We stay like that just breathing each other in.
“You’re the best, Callie.” He pulls back, leaves a chaste kiss on my forehead and offers me a weak smile. “I brought soup. I thought maybe you’d feel sick after last night, but I guess you’re more of a badass chick than I even imagined.”
“Ah!” I chuckle, earning a grin from him. “I’m no badass. You just timed your visit right. Missed all the upchucking mess.”
His phone pings from his pocket and his lips pull into a tight line. “That’s the friend I promised to visit. I better go.” He shrugs. I want to beg him to stay, for the night, or for a little longer, but I won’t. He kisses my lips softly and then says good-bye, leaving me with cold soup and more doubts than I want to consider.
I hate insecurities.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I go from confident, trusting, happy Callie to questioning-someone’s-motives-while-rocking-in-a-corner Callie.
After Chase left all I wanted to do was binge on Netflix and delivery pizza. And despite the fact my house was perfectly clean, laundry folded and put away, and fridge fully stocked for the week, I still felt restless, unsettled, wrong.
It was probably the hangover. Maybe it was the great sex followed by my disappearing act of a boyfriend. But my mind wanders back to Chase and his family and why he didn’t tell me we were in his apartment last night. I run through every possibility fathomable as to why he would deceive me in that way. None of the reasons I imagine settle my growing doubt.
So instead I lace up my running shoes for a jog around the neighborhood.
I think about taking my usual route, but with Kiki’s house toward the beginning of the circuit, I’ll likely ditch the run to chat with her if she’s around. No, I need motivation, an incentive to stay the course. Exiting my drive, I head west and turn onto Brookerson for an uphill challenge.
Fuck. Now I remember why I never go this way. This hill is a bitch. It’s much easier running the opposite direction. Sweat dampens my skin and slides between my legs where my thighs touch with each consecutive stride.
Don’t think, just run.
Don’t think.
Just run.
I chant it over and over with each step I take. My muscles strain and I find a rhythm. The sun sets above the silhouettes of homes, breaking free of the clouds and painting the sky in vibrant burnt hues of orange. Almost like flames. Fire. Firemen. Chase. Damn it, I’m back to him again.
I shake it off and when I’m almost to the end of the street I spot a familiar car parked in the drive two houses up. I stop. Almost trip as realization dawns. It’s a rare car. Not like a silver Camry or even a white Tahoe. I’d know that beefy body style anywhere, and the gunmetal gray shoots straight through my heart.
Why is Chase’s car parked in this driveway? Who lives here?
I should jog back home. Or even complete the full three-mile loop, but there’s no fucking way I’ll ever sleep tonight if I vacate the premise without answers. I glance around, find a group of kids—more like pre-teens—riding their bikes in the cul-de-sac a few houses over. I don’t think, I just sprint. These kids will be able to give me more results than anyone else.
“Hey!” I call out and wave at the riders. They give each other that worried look and I realize I must look insane, running at them full throttle and drenched in sweat. I slow my gait and try a
friendlier smile. As I walk closer one of the boys puts on his brakes. I set my tone to sweet as pie and point at Chase’s Camaro. “Hey, I’m new to the neighborhood, but can you tell me who lives in that house over there?” There’s no doubt it’s his car. His custom license plate mocks me from its placeholder. HUGH2. I never noticed that before. What the hell?
The kid narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you want to know?” Thanks so much, stranger danger awareness. I smile again.
“I think one of my old friends from junior high lives there but I don’t want to look stupid if it’s not him, you know?” I laugh and the kid almost smiles.
“It’s Miss McClain’s house.”
A woman. Of course it is.
Don’t get jealous. You don’t even know who she is. You need more information. If I get a name I can look her up online as soon as I’m home.
“Do you happen to know her full name?”
“Tiffany, but all the grownups call her Tiff.” Fuck. Really? He’s here. With her. Instead of home with me. Anger and sadness mix together and I blink back the stinging tears. “You okay, ma’am?”
“Never better,” I manage, and hightail it home, taking the shortcut through Bentley Street. My breath catches in my chest and squeezes so tightly I can’t inhale. Warm tears fall from my eyes and cloud my vision.
Shit. Ouch!
My foot must catch a fault in the concrete and I biff it, falling hard with the brunt of the force to one knee.
“Fuck!” I shout and roll to my side. The knee that probably saved my face from road rash is scraped deep and filled with tiny bits of rock. Blood gathers just under the scraped skin and turns to red as it pools around the gravel lodged in my flesh. I sit up and give in to the realization that my boyfriend is not who he claimed to be. I cry, hard, and allow the tears to fall with no regard.
“Callie, dear, is that you?”
I glance up and wipe my face to find Kiki at the edge of her drive, peering back with concern. I brace myself for the pain and stand. My knee doesn’t want to move and I hobble the rest of the way to her house.