by S. R. Grey
Rolling me onto my back, he says, “I need to feel you, Kay. Not just your mouth.” He then pushes into me, telling me, “I love how you stretch and open for me when I first slide into you.”
When Chase is in as far as he can go, he stills, letting me feel his fullness, how he swells and hardens even more, just from being inside of me.
“God,” I groan.
“I could stay here all night”…he whispers…“never move.”
I want to respond that I could too, but, truth is, I have to move. I need to feel him; I have to create friction with what is filling me to capacity.
Chase, of course, is only too happy to give me free rein. He sits back on his heels while I raise my hips and slowly work his shaft in and out of my sex.
Chase watches, smirking and amused.
“Letting me do all the work?” I gasp as I slide up and down his length…over and over again.
“I like watching you fuck my cock” is his simple response.
“Ah, say it again,” I demand, glancing down to where we are so intimately joined.
I like when Chase talks dirty. And he’s very good at it. He knows what turns me on. He tells me now, in the raunchiest terms, the things he likes to do to me…and then he does each one.
His words, not to mention what he’s doing to my body, get me close to release. But I hold back. I want to keep fucking his cock, keep feeling his hands roam all over me, keep feeling his lips and his tongue. Everything he is doing feels so good, so right. There’s raw honesty in Chase’s actions.
How could I have doubted him earlier tonight?
“I wish we could keep doing this all night,” I say as I slow my pace.
“There’s nothing stopping us,” Chase replies.
He lowers his body down over mine, his hands lifting my ass so he can take over and drive into me. There’s no more talk, but I get what I want. We fuck—soft, hard, fast, slow—well into the wee hours.
Needless to say, we sleep in late the next day. Lucky for us, it’s the weekend.
Despite the late start—or maybe because of all the phenomenal sex that resulted in our sleeping in—Saturday begins as an exceptionally good day. Everyone is in a fine mood. Not just Chase and me, but Will, too. Plus, it’s a perfect summer day to match our moods, all blue skies and soft breezes.
Throughout what’s left of the morning, Chase and his brother spend time together out on the back porch, looking over Will’s latest pages for his comic book. I plop down in the kitchen, e-reader in hand, all set to read. But I find myself smiling more than reading as I listen to Chase and Will, laughing and talking. I hear Chase suggest some changes to the plot direction of Will’s comic, and then his brother thanks him for taking the time to look over his work.
When they come back into the house, I set down my e-reader.
Will follows my movement and says, “It’s too nice to sit inside and read, Kay. We should all do something fun.”
I shrug and say, “Hey, I’m up for anything.”
Will arches an eyebrow at his brother. “What about a day trip?”
Chase glances at me, and I nod. He then says, “Day trip it is.”
Chase doesn’t give us any details right away, but Will digs out our destination when we drive out of Ohio and into Pennsylvania.
“Where are we going?” Will asks as we travel on the turnpike.
“Pittsburgh,” Chase replies.
When we reach the city limits, we head into the downtown area. Chase informs us that there’s a festival of some sort going on. We park in a garage nestled among the tall buildings, then walk to where this event is taking place. Turns out, it’s some artsy event, complete with vendors selling their artsy wares and prominently displayed professional art of all genres everywhere.
Art is on display across a wide expanse that starts at the edge of where the buildings end and extending out along a piece of land—a park—that narrows to where three rivers converge.
“This is right up your alley,” I say to Chase as we walk past several stands all in a row.
Each one in this area appears to be selling sketches and paintings.
Will catches sight of a teenage girl with an easel in a clearing nearby. She’s drawing caricatures for passersby. He turns to us and says, “Hey, I’m going to check that out, okay?”
“Sure,” Chase replies, but not before Will is halfway to where the girl is set up.
Chase and I smile at each other. “Kids,” he says.
“I know, right?”
We stick close to where Will is speaking with the girl about her craft. Chase and I peruse the stands in the area. Most of the artwork is amazing, but I can’t help but think Chase’s art is better.
“You should do something like this,” I say when we step into one artist’s tented area.
Numerous sketches, mostly city scenes, line the walls, and some sit propped up in tiny easels on a table. Chase picks up a sketch that’s for sale. It’s of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. It’s similar to the one he drew for me, the one that hangs above his bed, the one we make love under all the time.
As he peers down at the sketch, I lean into his shoulder and truthfully say, “Yours is so much better.”
“Thank you,” Chase replies softly, and then he places the sketch back on the table from where he picked it up.
Chase asks the artist how one goes about securing a spot for an event like this. The man, an older gentleman with wild gray hair, is very helpful. He gives Chase a card and some other information printed out on a sheet of paper.
Will returns just as Chase is pocketing the information. He sees the card and printed form and says, “Thinking of selling some artwork, bro?”
“Yeah…” Chase blows out a breath. “…maybe.”
“You should,” Will says excitedly. “You’re good enough that I bet you’d pull down some fat stacks.”
“Fat stacks, eh?” Chase chuckles at his brother’s slang, not to mention his enthusiasm.
I agree with Will, though. Chase is extremely talented. The sketchbooks from his time in prison are a testament to his skill. Some of the artwork contained in those books is disturbing, but every last one is nothing short of amazing. Encouraging Chase to sell his sketches, however, might take some doing. He’s shy about his talent. And he’s not exactly pressed for money. He doesn’t make a whole lot working for the church, but his grandmother left him some cash in the bank, as well as all that property and the house.
“Chase,” I say to him, “it is something to consider.”
While we start over to the next artist’s stand, he quietly replies, “Maybe.”
I don’t press any further. Chase is stubborn, and if and when he decides to sell his artwork, it will be on his own terms. In any case, the rest of our afternoon in Pittsburgh goes well. We spend the whole day at the arts festival, where we have an incredible time, and then it’s back to Ohio that evening.
The next day, after church and a visit to Sarah’s grave, we embark on another outing.
Chase, Will, and I drive a little north of Harmony Creek, to the closest multiplex in the area. The plan is to catch a matinee movie. We do exactly that, and after the show, on the ride back home, we stop at a family restaurant along the highway to grab dinner.
It’s there in a booth, as we’re laughing, talking, and eating, that I realize I honestly feel like I am part of their family. I feel like I belong, like I’m a part of something. I may only be Chase’s girlfriend at the moment, but I feel like his wife in so many ways. And Will feels like my young brother-in-law. It makes me curious as to what life will be like when Chase and I start a family of our own. The thought of Chase as the father of my children fills me with the warmest, most contented brand of joy, making me wish we could have children sooner rather than later.
I know it’s probably too soon to be thinking these sorts of things, though. So I push my yearnings aside…for the time being.
Once the weekend is behind us, Monday arrives in f
ull glory. And it feels, at first, as if the happy times are set to continue.
First, Will comes down to breakfast in an exceptionally good mood. He grabs a slice of toast as it pops up in the toaster and slides into the chair next to Chase.
“Good morning,” he says jovially to Chase, and then to me.
“You’re up early,” Chase comments as he leans back in his chair.
“Yeah, Cassie woke me up. She and her mom are back in Vegas.”
“Already?” I inquire.
At the same time, Chase interjects, “Wow, they must have hardly stopped.”
I place a plate of over-easy eggs in front of Will, smiling since I know they’re his favorite.
He thanks me, holding my gaze long enough to express his gratitude, and then he continues his conversation with Chase. “Yeah, they didn’t stop much. Plus, you should see, dude, Mrs. Sutter drives like a maniac.”
“Clearly,” Chase remarks.
Will then asks his brother if it’d be okay if he stayed home today, as opposed to spending the day with us at Holy Trinity.
“Tired of working for free?” Chase teases, referencing the unpaid work Will did on the mural.
“No, that’s not it at all,” Will replies. “It’s just that Cassie and I met this kid who lives in town. He was at that miniature golf place across from the church the day we hung out over there.”
Will leaves it at that, saying no more, which prompts Chase to ask, “Okay, and…?”
Will continues, “Well, he called me last night. Seems like an okay dude, so I was wondering if maybe it’d be all right if he comes out to the house today.”
This is uncharted territory for Chase, and it shows in his uncertain expression. “Uh, I don’t know. What’s this kid’s name? How old is he? Where’s he live?”
Will laughs. “Jesus, Chase, you’re worse than Mom.”
But when Chase shoots him an I-am-not-messing-around glare, Will hastily provides some background on his new friend.
“Jared is the kid’s name, okay? Jared Knox. He’s sixteen and lives somewhere not far from the church. I think he called the area South of Market, wherever that is.”
Chase glances over to where I’m standing by the stove. South of Market is the nicest part of town. Jared is probably from a wealthy family, though the name Knox doesn’t ring any immediate bells.
Chase turns back to his brother. “Yeah, I guess it’d be okay. How’s he planning on getting out here? Are his parents okay with driving him out?”
“Not necessary.” Will picks at his eggs with his fork. “He actually has his own car.”
Further evidence the kid’s family has money. Chase’s blues find my eyes again, and I know he’s thinking the same exact thing.
“Fine,” he says to Will. “You can stay here today. And it’s fine with me if you have your friend over.”
“Cool,” Will mumbles through a forkful of eggs he shovels into his mouth.
When Chase and I leave for work, he asks me when we’re in the driveway if I think he made the right decision.
“Sure,” I say. “Jared is probably a nice kid.”
“Probably,” Chase echoes, and then he says, “But I’m thinking maybe I should drive separately to work. If I wrap up early today, then I can head back here and hopefully meet this Jared guy. I better make sure he’s not trouble.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “that’s probably a good idea.”
Chase and I then leave for the church in our respective vehicles.
Later, at lunchtime, Chase and I are down at the diner as usual. He reminds me again of his plan to leave work early. “Just so you don’t wonder where I am,” he says, a second before taking a bite of his burger.
“Great, I’ll see you back at the house, then,” I reply.
The rest of my workday is uneventful, but late in the afternoon, all hell breaks loose.
It all starts when I receive a frantic call from Cassie.
“Oh my God, Kay,” Will’s girlfriend sobs when I answer. “I’m so sorry to bother you when you’re probably still at work, but I didn’t know who else to call.”
She sniffles, and I assure her, “It’s fine, sweetie. What’s wrong?”
Cassie chokes up when she tries to speak. In the background, I can hear traffic whizzing by.
“Where are you?” I ask, worry creeping up my spine.
“I just pulled off the road,” she says, her voice hitching as she suppresses a sob. “Mom and I were supposed to go out to lunch today, but she forgot she had some conference call for work that she absolutely couldn’t miss. Anyway, I told her I’d pick something up for us. So I went to this restaurant we like, and when I was coming out, I noticed Paul’s car parked a few spots away. I hurried and got the hell out of there, but he followed me.” She lowers her voice, adding, “Kay, he was right on my bumper. I was terrified.”
“Oh, Cassie.”
“I turned into a residential area,” she continues, “and I just kept turning and turning until he finally gave up and sped off.”
Cassie breaks down as she finishes her story, and I, as kindly as I can, say, “Cassie, listen to me, okay?”
“Okay,” she says in a stuttered breath, still choked up.
“You have to call your mom right away. Tell her everything you just told me.”
“I did call her,” Cassie chokes out. “I called her first, but she was still on that stupid call and couldn’t talk. I’ll tell her everything when I get home, I promise, but what should I do now?”
“Can you go to a police station?”
After a long pause, Cassie says in a whisper, “I don’t think I want to do that.”
I’m floored. “Why not?”
She takes a deep breath. Cassie’s not crying anymore, but she still sounds upset.
“What if I go to the cops and it makes things worse?” she begins. “Paul is obviously mad I ruined his marriage to my mom. Besides, I’ve seen those crime shows. He didn’t do anything illegal. It’s just my word against his. If I tell the police what happened, maybe they’ll question him, yeah, but they can’t do anything, not really. There’s no proof he did anything wrong. And what if my telling the police makes that psycho even angrier? Then what? I’m scared, Kay, for myself and for my mom.”
Cassie has a point. It’s her word against Paul’s. Surely, he’ll deny he was anywhere near her. Needless to say, I’m officially lost here.
While I’m trying to think of an effective solution where there appears to be none, Cassie throws out that she needs to call Will and tell him all that has happened.
Calling Will is a very bad idea.
“Please don’t do that, Cassie,” I plead. “Will can’t do anything from here. Please, just talk to your mom. She can file a restraining order based on how Paul has been harassing you. And ask her to talk to your uncle. He can keep an eye on you and your mom, right?”
“I guess,” Cassie mutters.
“So you’ll hold off, for now,” I qualify, “on telling Will?”
Cassie promises she won’t call her boyfriend, but I have a bad feeling she’s just saying what she knows I want to hear.
“I gotta go,” Cassie says softly, and then she ends the call.
I immediately text Chase: Are you still over at the school? I think we may have a problem.
I gather my things and lock up the office. But by the time I reach the parking lot, I still haven’t heard back from Chase. My Neon is the only car in the lot, so I assume that he’s left work early as planned and that he’s either on his way home or already at the house.
But then again, maybe Chase is somewhere else entirely. I mean, why else would he not reply to my text? Maybe something turned up, something unexpected. It’d have to be important, though, for him to skip going home to check on Will and his new friend, Jared.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself.
Cassie could be calling Will at this very moment, getting him all worked up. And here I am, with no idea where Chase migh
t be.
I try to call him before I leave the lot, but his phone goes straight to voicemail.
Still, I leave a message detailing Cassie’s call. “Maybe I’m panicking over nothing. I mean, maybe you’re home, after all,” I say hopefully. “I’m heading there now.”
When I reach the house, I pray Chase’s truck is in the driveway. But it’s not.
Chase definitely left work early, so where in the hell did he go?
As I park in my usual spot near the garage, I notice there’s a shiny black sports car parked around the side of the house. It’s a really nice car—a Jaguar. Will’s friend Jared’s car, I assume. It’s not funny, but I have to laugh. Chase thinks Cassie has what he terms a “too-nice-for-a-kid car.” Wait till he sees this flashy thing.
Unbelievable.
Shaking my head at the blatant display of wealth, I walk past Jared’s Jag and let myself in the house through the back door. When I step into the kitchen, I am greeted by a tall, gangly kid with a mop of messy dark hair.
“Hey,” he says from where he’s seated at the table, his long legs kicked out in front of him.
He’s alone in the kitchen; there’s no sign of Will.
“Hi,” I reply, making my way to the table, “you must be Jared.”
“Yeah,” he slowly replies, glancing up at me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Kay.” I smile. “I live in the apartment next door.”
His face lights up with realization. “Oh, yeah, you must be Will’s brother’s girlfriend.”
“That would be me,” I confirm as I glance around. “By the way, is Will around?”
Jared frowns and I know before he speaks that Cassie has called. Sure enough, he says, “Uh, Will’s girlfriend called, like, ten minutes ago. I could hear her crying. She was upset about something, so Will went upstairs to talk to her.”
“Damn,” I curse.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
He seems like a nice enough kid, so I tell him the truth. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
As it turns out, things are indeed wrong—very, very wrong.
Will returns to the kitchen just as I finish speaking. His stressed-out expression, not to mention the way his lips are pressed together in a straight line, tell me all I need to know. Cassie has definitely told him about Paul. And just as I feared, Cassie sharing the unpleasant stalker-stepdad update with her overprotective boyfriend has set off a chain of events, the likes of which I soon discover I have absolutely no control over.