“I’m sorry,” Andy said, and meant it; this must be a difficult subject from the look on his face.
Randall nodded edgily. “G’night.” Andy turned and went the other way, down the hall to the room where Charlotte waited for him.
She was sitting on the bed, watching the doorway when he walked in. He tossed his bags on the floor next to the wall, and pulled his shirt off over his head, throwing it on top of his bags. He held out his arm to her. “There are stings on my arm,” he gestured to his shoulder and ribs, “and all over here.”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and he had to close his eyes. God, that was so sexy his cock had half-risen again, and he felt the buttons of his jeans impress themselves against his hard-on.
“Sit down, Andy.” She casually patted the bed beside her. He sat down carefully and slowly, not wanting to tip her over as he had earlier on the couch. She opened the jar, tilted it cautiously onto the cloth, and then closed the jar tightly once she was satisfied with the saturation.
“What is that stuff?” he asked. “It smells a little like liniment and kerosene.”
“My Granny’s salve,” she said absently, picking up his arm and turning it this way and that to see underneath and on the back. “She makes it only once a year, so I am careful to conserve it as needed.” Frustrated, she shook her head. “I can’t get to all the bites and stings from here, can you stand back up?”
He complied, and she pulled him over between her knees by his belt loops. “Hold your arm out, please.”
His thigh was touching her belly, and if she looked, she’d see the outline of his hard cock in the crotch of his jeans. He breathed slowly and raised his arm. “How’s that, Lottie?”
She looked at his ribs, and he watched her mouth move as she read his tattoo on that side. “What does that mean, Andy? The journey is the reward.”
He looked down at her face, which was turned up to wait for his answer. “It’s something a woman told me once, that journeying without enjoying the trip along the way is a waste of everyone’s time.”
She reached up a fingertip, and his breath caught as she ran it along the script, raising goose bumps all over his body. Picking up the cloth, she dragged it roughly across the infected marks from the ant stings, telling him belatedly, “This will smart a bit.”
He swore and tried to jerk back, but she had a firm grip on his arm and kept him tight between her knees. “It helps the stings heal a whole lot faster and with no scarring; otherwise, you’ll wind up with a little round scar from each sting,” she said, running the cloth up underneath his arm, scrubbing at the marks there. She slowed when she worked across the tattoo on his bicep on that side, raising her face to him again with a questioning look.
“It’s a reminder to not repeat mistakes, but to build on what we learn and move forward with greater purpose.”
She mouthed, The past is practice, and nodded her head. There were a few marks on his chest, and she first used her fingertip to trace the wing of the dragon on that side, and then the cloth to cleanse the stings of their infection.
“Do you have more tattoos?” she asked. He turned to show her the script on his right forearm, telling her without prompting, “It means that we can decide what events we carry with us, and what emotional baggage we leave behind.” She nodded again, and he saw her lips move, knowing she was reading the words for herself—We live with the scars we choose.
He turned again, putting his left shoulder towards her, and she smiled at the angelic look of the tattoo. Then, her eyes darkened, and he knew she’d seen the implements of risk and death that the angel carried, the unsheathed sword and pistol. “My brother is in Wyoming. I haven’t seen him since I left. He’s nearly sixteen now, but no matter how far apart we are, or how old he gets, I’ll always be there for him if he needs me.”
She flattened her lips between her teeth, biting down gently, and then told him, “I get this one; I worry about my little sister all the time. I guess that makes me ‘My Sister’s Keeper’, huh?”
He laughed gently at her. “You are about to become a little momma. I think you will be keeper for lots of people by the time you are done.”
She laughed. “It’s funny. I forget sometimes—you know…that I’m pregnant—when she’s being still and I’m not focused on how ungraceful and ungainly I’ve become.” Shaking her head at her own silliness, she continued, “Then I breathe, move, have to pee, or do pretty much anything, and I’m reminded again.”
He stepped back, sinking to a crouch between her legs. Placing his hands on her stomach, one on either side, he leaned quickly forward and kissed between his hands. His forehead touching her, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. She was so beautiful and soft, and smelled wonderful, a sweet musk overlaid with floral perfume. Smiling, he kissed her baby again. “Lottie, I’d like to hold you. Would you lay with me for a while?” he asked.
She nodded shyly. “I’d like that, Andy. Let’s go to my room, though. My bed is bigger; plus, I have my belly pillow…wait ‘til you see it.” She laughed and shifted forward to the edge of the bed.
“I’ll change and meet you there.” He smiled up at her, then stood and helped her regain her feet. Taking the jar and cloth with her, she turned up the hallway. He grabbed his sleep shorts and changed swiftly out of his jeans, sighing with relief when he tugged off his clothes and boots. He was exhausted, but wanted to clean up, so he grabbed the bag with his bathroom stuff off the floor.
In the hallway, he turned the opposite direction from her bedroom, anticipating that the bathroom was probably this way. Opening the door at the end of the hallway, he saw Lottie reflected in a mirror, standing naked except for a small pair of panties.
Her areolas were large, covering half her breasts, which were full and looked painfully weighted. She had a thin, dark mark down the middle of her belly, widening below her bellybutton, where it led into her panties. Holding a lacy wad of material in one hand, her other rested on top of her belly.
He smiled slowly at her reflection, allowing her to see the desire he felt for her. She looked back at him with a quiet confidence tempered by shyness, but made no move to cover herself. He had been aroused by her every time he turned around today, and this was no different. Within seconds, his cock was tenting his sleep shorts, and he reached down to adjust himself.
“Lottie,” he started, his voice low and shaky, “God, you are beautiful.” He began backing out of the bathroom, watching as she pulled that lacy material over her head, the gown covering from her shoulders to her knees.
She stopped him with a soft, “It’s okay. I’m done in here. I’ll be in my bedroom, Andy,” and she lowered her eyes as she moved to walk past him.
He reached out and gently stopped her. “Don’t do that, Charlotte. Don’t hide your eyes from me. Give me your eyes, baby; let me see what you’re thinking.” He raised her chin with one finger again. “You are so beautiful,” he said. “I don’t know why you won’t look at me. I can’t figure it out. You have to tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”
She shook her chin free of his touch, saying somewhat sharply, “It’s not you, Andy. You’ve done nothing.” She turned, repeating in a softer tone, “It’s not you,” and walked to her bedroom, leaving her door slightly open, a soft light seeping into the darkened hallway.
He washed up quickly, and then left his bag in his room, taking the two steps to Lottie’s doorway. She was lying on the bed, covered only by a sheet. She had the largest pillow in the history of man wedged underneath her belly, with one leg and arm wrapped around it. “Holy smokes,” he chortled, “is that the belly pillow?”
She snorted her laughter. “Yes, and it’s comfortable and exactly the right size. It took me three tries to get the perfect one. Do not laugh at me.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” he assured her and walked around the bed. Lifting the covers, he slid into bed behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. Snuggling his nose into the hair at the ba
ck of her head, he cradled one of her hands in his, resting their joined hands between her breasts.
Sighing deeply, he let go of her hand as she made a disappointed noise and reached over to turn out the light. Closing his eyes, he murmured, “Shhhh, baby,” and recaptured her hand, threading their fingers together. He listened as her breathing evened out and deepened as she slowly folded into sleep. Andy shook his head, bemused; this had been an unexpected kind of day.
Waking in the morning, he was lying on his back, and he felt an arm across his chest. There was a weight on his hip, and then he realized a leg was thrown across his thighs. He shifted slowly, opening his eyes to look down to see Lottie sleeping, draped across him. Her belly was wedged into his side, propped on his hip, and she’d pressed her body as tight to him as she could manage with the baby in the way.
Andy gently pushed her hair back from her face, kissing her temple softly. Stroking her cheekbone with his fingers, he teased little breathy whispers and moans from her. His other arm was wrapped around her back, and he moved his hand to anchor hers to his belly, where he struggled with himself a little not to drag her hand down lower. She moved restlessly, her knee sliding up to nudge his erection lightly, and he groaned. “Fuck me,” he said on a breath, biting his bottom lip hard.
She moved restlessly again, scrubbing her face into his shoulder. Her hand tensed, pulling loose from his grip and wandering southward. Capturing it again, he drew her hand higher on his stomach into neutral territory as her leg slid back down, her knee pressing on his again.
Rolling his hip outward, he bent his knee a little, giving her a better place to lay her leg. Her head rocked backward, mouth opening slightly as she gasped. He felt her hips move forward once, and then back and forth again, and realized his leg had slid between hers, his thigh pressing against her.
Loving her unconscious sensuality, he stroked her cheek again, sliding his hand to cup her jaw. Looking down into her face, he was witness to the moment when she awakened and became aware of her arousal. Her eyes fluttered and opened, her green gaze lifted to his eyes as she licked her lips, catching her bottom one between her teeth. “Hey beautiful,” he greeted her with a smile. “Good morning.”
Pulling her hips back, she disengaged from him, and he reluctantly released her hand. Then, shaking his head, he reached over and slid his hand down her back to her ass, pulling her tight against his hip and leg. Caressing the curve of her ass, he slipped his hand further down along her leg to the back of her knee, and tugged it up onto his legs. He flexed his thigh, rubbing lightly against her core while her leg brushed his cock.
“Andy,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”
He whispered back, “Taking care of you, beautiful.” Stroking slowly up the back of her thigh to her pussy, his fingers dragged and gathered the fabric of her short nightgown as he went. Pressing a finger against the satin of her panties, he skimmed over her clit back and forth. “Baby, go ahead. I want to watch you come. I want to see you,” he said quietly, licking the shell of her ear as she trembled.
Andy lifted her chin and captured her lips in a soft, sweet kiss, working gently for entry, stroking her tongue with his own. She groaned into his mouth, and he felt her hips begin to move again, pressing herself against his hard thigh.
His eyes closed, listening to her breathing catch and release, feeling the shuddering that started deep between her legs. “Baby, come for me,” he urged, stroking her firmly through her panties, relishing the heavy wetness there.
Her hand clutched at his stomach, fingers closing and opening restlessly. His fingers on her face slid down and stroked the column of her throat, then down to her breast, cupping gently through the fabric. She shook, and her breath became jagged and quick, her hand moving more urgently against his muscles. Moaning softly into his mouth as she climaxed, her lips grasped at his, kissing him hard. He gently stroked up and down her back, rubbing smoothly but firmly down to her ass and back up again.
As the wave of sensation began to recede, she lay her head back on his chest, and her hand went to her belly, rubbing the mounded side. She laughed a little breathlessly, and he asked, “What?” Reaching over, she took his hand and laid it on her belly. It was hard…very hard, and round, not at all like it had been last night when he touched her. “What happened?” he asked curiously, not sure if this was a good or a bad thing, but she was laughing, so maybe it was okay.
“It’s these little contractions, a way for the body to prepare itself for the real show. I’ve gotten them all the time these past few weeks, but this is one of the strongest I’ve felt. My belly is like a basketball or something. Feel how hard it is.” She pressed his hand down, putting her fingers between his as they covered her belly.
“Does it hurt you when it does this?” He wanted to make a joke about her saying how hard it was, but couldn’t bring himself to ruin the moment.
“No, it just feels odd, like my body is doing things I can’t control, but it doesn’t hurt.” She giggled. “I totally told you to feel how hard it is, didn’t I?” She rolled onto her back, away from him, laughing. “That was nearly funny.”
“It was funny.” He laughed as he tugged her back into him, skimming her gown up again so he could rub a path from the satin covering her ass to the bare skin of her hip and belly, and back again. “Did you sleep okay?” He kissed her temple, smiling into her hair.
She nodded against his chest. “I slept really well; it felt so good, too. I don’t remember the last time I’ve slept like that.”
Touching her slowly, stroking wherever his hand could reach, Andy closed his eyes and explored her body leisurely. He listened to the sounds coming from outside, and he realized there was an odd absence of noise from within the house. “I hear dogs outside, cows, and horses. Sounds like things are up early around here,” he laughed, “but I don’t hear your dad moving around.”
“He’s probably already in town; it’s got to be nearly eight, and he’ll have coffee at Swanner’s with the other ranchers,” she mumbled, scrubbing her face against him again.
“Your mom?” he asked quietly.
“Her caregiver will be in her room with her. She can’t come downstairs anymore,” she said casually, rolling away from him to arch and stretch her back.
He pushed her hip, positioning her facing away from him; turning onto his side, he propped his head on his hand. Slipping his other hand underneath her nightgown, he rubbed her lower back firmly, circling with his thumb slowly from hip to hip. “Why doesn’t she come down?” he asked.
Charlotte was rounding her back, pushing hard into his fingers. “Alzheimer’s, she doesn’t really remember how to walk anymore, and it’s too hard to get her downstairs and then back up.”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he muttered, kissing the side of her neck.
She made a tiny shrugging motion. “I know, and thanks. It’s not fair, but it happened. I feel sorry for Daddy more than anyone, because with all else she’s lost in the past months, she’s forgotten him. So now, he’s lost her too.” They were silent for a minute, and she murmured, “God that feels sooooo good, Andy. I rub and rub at my back, digging my fingers in, trying to work it all out, but nothing I do feels like this.”
He smiled, and quiet descended into the room again as he continued to rub her back slowly and with care. Feeling the knots loosen, he stroked them away from her muscles as he massaged and kneaded her back. Her breathing evened out, and Andy grinned; he was pleased she’d relaxed enough to have gone back to sleep. Maybe this could be her sleep catch-up day.
Sliding out of bed carefully, he brought the sheet up and tucked her in, kissing her temple softly. Headed first to the bathroom, and then into the kitchen, he found a carafe of hot coffee waiting on the countertop. Looking through the cabinets for a cup, he poured himself a mug full, taking it to the backdoor.
Stepping out onto the porch and into the morning, he took in the view, which encompassed several fields and a pond framed in on two side
s by thick, dense woods.
A curious, red-colored brindle dog ran up the porch steps, stopping several feet away from him to look at him cautiously. Andy patted his leg, but that didn’t entice the dog closer; it stood with its head slung low and tense. Putting itself between him and the door, the dog was now lifting a lip and snarling at him silently.
He took a step towards the door, and the dog took an aggressive step towards him, keeping one front leg lifted, ready to move again. Fuck, this dog wasn’t kidding around. How was he supposed to get back into the house?
The dog’s head swiveled towards the door, ears perking up and stubby tail wagging. A few seconds later, Charlotte stepped out onto the porch wrapped in a terrycloth robe. She absently reached down and rubbed the dog’s head. Her fingers scratched down along the cheek and underneath the edge of its chin, while the dog’s squinted eyes and tilted head gave proof of its enjoyment.
“What kind of dog is that?” He took a step towards Charlotte, and the dog was on full alert again; it whipped around to face him and backed into her legs. Turning sideways, the dog pushed her two steps back towards the door, lifting that silently snarling lip at him again.
“Dammit Dog, knock it off,” she scolded it. Looking up at Andy, she grinned, “We think she’s a red heeler, mixed with Catahoula, mixed with no-one-knows.”
The dog’s animosity had faded again, and it was staring up at Charlotte’s face, waiting on a command, an acknowledgement, or something. He held his hand out, palm down, letting the dog decide to introduce herself or not. “What’s her name?” he asked and Lottie laughed.
“Dammit Dog,” she replied.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Is this like a Three Stooges skit, where I’m never going to understand what to call the dog?” Jerking at a cold touch, he looked down as the dog pushed herself under his hand for scratches.
Charlotte laughed again. “It could be a funny skit, I guess. She was a stray; we get a lot of dogs dumped on these country roads. She decided this was her home and we were her family, but Mom didn’t want another dog, so she tried to run her off. About a dozen times a day you’d hear, ‘Dammit dog, get out of there’, or ‘Dammit dog, knock it off’, or sometimes just ‘Dammit dog’.” She shrugged. “The name stuck.”
Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 10