Storms Over Secrets

by J. A. Derouen

  “Oh, I’m sure it provokes something,” I say with a chuckle as I grab the book from her hands and flip to the back cover. “’Join the Duke as he ravages innocent maidens throughout London.’ I have to say—I think it’s fan-fucking-tastic that you read books like this. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

  Celia releases a huge, pent-up sigh and falls next to me on the couch. She shrugs and twists her hands in her lap. “Marlo got it for me. She prefers the rock star romance books, but she thought I may appreciate something a little more … old fashioned.”

  “Like English royalty?”

  “Well, yeah,” she whispers, her lips turning to a slight frown and the blush from her cheeks creeping across her face and down her neck. “Since I don’t date, I don’t … well, you know … so she thought this would be a good way to release some tension.”

  I resist the smile tugging on my lips because I don’t want her to think I’m making fun of her, but damn if she isn’t the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  “It seems to me this book would only serve to build up more tension, but what do I know?” I keep my voice in the most serious tone I can muster.

  “She’s ordering me something for that, too,” she says before slamming her hand over her mouth, completely shocked by what she just revealed.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I order, pulling her hand from her mouth. “You can’t drop a bomb and clam up on me. Celia Lemaire are you getting a—”

  She turns her head, closes her eyes, and scrunches her face. The thought of Celia lying in her bed, reading a smutty book, with a battery-operated device has my dick at attention and blood coursing through my veins at high speed. I want to throw my hands up in the air, hollering, “I volunteer as tribute!” This little project has my name written all over it, but she just doesn’t know it yet.

  “Uh uh,” I say as I tug her chin up and make her meet my eyes. I continue my questioning with a scandalous whisper. “Are you getting a … vibrator?”

  “Ugh! If there is a God, will He please swallow me up into the ground to avoid this embarrassment? I think I’m going to die,” she cries as she covers her face with both hands and nosedives into my lap.

  Watch your aim, little fairy, or you’re about to get WAY more than you bargained for!

  I stealthily shift my position to keep her from bumping my boner. It’s been only a day since my vow to man up and make my move. But I don’t think this situation could be any more perfect. Celia, head in my lap, already primed with a lady boner thanks to Duke Hamptonshire?

  Thank you, universe. I owe you for this one.

  “Tink, I promise, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. The thought of you with a sexy book and a vibrator is enough ammunition to fuel my private time for the next few months. That image will be in the top file of my spank bank, for sure,” I say with a chuckle.

  She shoots up from my lap, giggling and slapping my shoulder playfully. “Cain, what a thing to say!”

  She stands up beside me and tugs her tiny, button-down shirt into place. I can feel my window of opportunity closing. The breeze is fading away, and the latch is about to swing shut. It’s now or never.

  Fuck it.

  I throw out all pretenses and give her ass a quick slap, and she squeals at the contact. I reach across and grab her by the hip, pulling her into my lap. She gasps in surprise, but doesn’t pull away. I run the tip of my nose along the slim line of her neck, stopping right below her ear.

  “You know, I’m always more than willing to release any … tension you may have, and darlin’, batteries are not required. I’m at your service,” I whisper softly as I reach around her waist and flick open the first button of her shirt. My lips trace the outline of her ear as her chest heaves with ragged breaths. “Just say the word, Celia, and this stops.”

  When her head drops back to my shoulder, and she buries her face in my neck, I take that as my green light and keep on flicking shirt buttons. When the final button breaks free, red fabric falls to the side to reveal the perfection that is Celia—milky, white skin and black lace.

  Holy fuck, she’s even more gorgeous than I imagined.

  I lightly run my fingers over her stomach, dipping slightly in the curve of her belly button. Her skin is velvety soft, quivering faintly as my calloused fingers make contact. The span of my hands easily takes up her entire torso, so I meet the edge of her bra in no time. I see those tight nipples straining, hard points pushing against black lace. They’ve got nothing on my dick—I swear I’m hard enough to chop wood with the fucking thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve left a permanent indentation in her ass.

  As my hands lightly brush her nipples, I feel the pressure of her teeth on my neck, and her tongue follows closely behind. Each stroke of her tongue is a flame on my skin, setting me on fire over and over. I curl my fingers under the black lace and tug, pushing her bra underneath those gorgeous tits, leaving them just how I like it—pushed up and on full display.

  I circle each of her nipples at a tortuous pace—so slow, so gentle. “Do you want me ... here?” I ask as I grab her tits in earnest and tweak her nipples.

  She moans in response, lifting one of her arms and grasping behind my neck. “Yes, yes,” she whispers with each breath, her ass writhing in my lap.

  I shift my head to crash into her panting lips—a tangle of tongues, teeth, and bated breaths. The sliding of our tongues, the push of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as I tease her nipples into stiffened peaks; they all contribute to a rhythm that will likely be the death of me.

  I release her nipples, which earns me a whimper, and slide my hands down the curve of her waist and over the crinkly fabric of her skirt. When I hit her thighs, I start my ascent into the promise land. The fingernails digging into the back of my neck and the slight shiver running through her body tells me she approves. When I hit the seam of her panties, which takes a while, because they are indeed thongs (Hell yes!), I swat her hip playfully.

  “Up. Lift that gorgeous ass for me.” As she leaves my lap, I could cry at the loss. “Good girl.”

  As she rises up, I ever so slowly slide her skirt and panties down, taking the opportunity to place each of her legs on the outside of mine. When her panties fall to the floor, I spread my legs apart, taking hers with me. Just the way I want her; open and ready for me. I pull my lips away from hers as I raise her other arm behind my neck and look into her hooded blue eyes.

  “Hands stay here, or I stop. Understand?” My mouth brushes against hers as I speak, and her lips reach for me, but I back away each time, needing the words.

  “Yes, I-I understand,” she whispers, and only then do I grab her bottom lip and suck.

  Honestly, I don’t usually play with so many rules. I like to swing by the seat of my pants, or lack thereof, as the case may be. I like a woman to do what she feels in the moment. But, in this case, without much provocation on her part, Celia will end up feeling a giant wet spot on her ass. I don’t intend on earning the nickname Quick Draw Cain today. Not on my watch.

  Before I begin, I make a show of pulling away from her lips to lick my fingers, and she watches every movement, mesmerized and slack-jawed. One hand stops at her tits while the other continues the journey down … way down. I slide a finger through her slit and find her wet and ready.

  “Oh, ooooh,” she moans into my mouth, her forehead falling to mine. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  “I’m thinking you should tell Marlo you don’t need a Duke. I’m thinking a country boy might do the trick, don’t you?”

  “Mmmmhmmmm,” she half-whispers, half-moans, as my hand lightly brushes over her, just barely making contact. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes roll back as I brush across her clit.

  And then I start the slow torture, both hands sliding up and down her body—tweaking, brushing, teasing, but never enough contact to satisfy. I caress the underside of her breasts before pinching those hard nipples. I run my hands down to her knees and slowly up the inside
of her thighs. I sweep the tips of my fingers through her drenched and ready lips as she cries out.

  And then I start the process over again. And again. And then again.

  Her body is writhing on top of mine, pushing into my hands, craving more—more touch, more sensation, more me. And I fucking love it.

  “Please,” she whispers in between driving her tongue into my mouth and gasping. “Please … I need…”

  “What do you need, darlin’? Do you want my fingers inside of you?” I ask, reveling in the sight of her teetering on the edge. She only needs a gentle flick from me to fall over.

  “No,” she cries between gasps. “No.”

  “You don’t want me to make you come?”

  “No, I want you,” she says, and she grinds her ass into my cock.

  Aw, hell! Pig shit. Butt boils. Fried bull testicles. Fuck, it’s not even working!

  “Not today, Celia. You’re not ready for my cock quite yet,” I say with a strained voice and a dick that’s crying out in agony, seconds away from disowning my stupid ass.

  I lick her lower lip and trail kisses and licks down her neck as my hands move down her body and then up her thighs. As my hand grazes over her center, I slap her clit with enough force to sting and sink my teeth into her neck, making her cry out as she takes the leap. My fingers plunge inside her contracting pussy, coaxing her body to ride her orgasm to completion.

  When her body relaxes and she falls back into my chest in complete exhaustion, I close my legs and turn her body around, cradling her like a baby. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs with a contented smile playing on her lips. I can’t help it; I feel like the master of the universe.

  “Did everything I do feel good to you?” I ask as I brush her hair out of her face, behind her ear, and gently kiss her forehead.

  “Mmmhmm,” she mumbles sleepily.

  I gently slide her off my lap and sit her on the couch. I kneel on the floor between her legs, fixing her bra, buttoning each shirt button, and searching for her panties and skirt on the floor.

  “Up,” I say as I pull them both up her legs, and she lifts her ass so I can slide them back on. I stay close, face to face, eye to eye. I want her to hear, understand, and take in every word I say. “There is nothing in this world I want more than to be buried deep inside you. Not. One. Thing. But when I take you, I want to know I’m all you see. No memories, no regrets, no one but you and me. I want you to be all mine, Celia, and when you can do that, that’s when you get all of me. Okay?”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods slowly. “All right,” she whispers as she breaks eye contact and stares into her lap. It breaks my heart to end things on a sad note, and I refuse to leave her feeling weepy.

  I tap my finger under her chin and nudge her face upward. I wink and get a watery smile in return. “I’m no duke, Celia Lemaire, but let me tell you one thing,” I say as I kiss her nose lightly. “I’m your ass-slapping, clit-tapping, wet dream, and damn it, one of these days you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

  And with those parting words, I stand up and walk through the living room and out the front door with a singular destination in mind. I hear her giggling behind me, and I know I’ve done my job. I chance once last look at my fairy before I close the door, skin flushed from head to toe, feet dangling awkwardly, and her finger touching her lips in wonder.

  I close the door and make my way down the front steps as quickly as I my legs will carry me—yes, all three of them. Of course, Adam happens to be outside with the kids this afternoon. Just my luck.

  “Hey, man, you need some help getting those tiles inside,” Adam calls out as he walks my way.

  I throw my hand up in protest and keep moving to my truck. “Nope. Later. Gotta go.”

  “Dude, don’t you wanna unload that shit? Come on, I’ll help you.”

  I fumble with my keys and keep my head down as I unlock the door. “Somewhere to be,” I reply in a clipped tone.

  “What the hell is so important it can’t wait for ten minutes, Cain? We’ll knock this out in no time.” Adam holds my door open, blocking my escape.

  Fucker.

  “Shower, dude. I need a shower … now,” I mutter through clenched teeth as I tug the door out of his grasp and turn the ignition.

  As I reverse out of the driveway, I see the exact moment when realization washes over his face, and he points and laughs at my harrowing situation.

  Balls as blue as those little smurf fuckers … that’s my wish for you, Adam.

  “Sweet and Low” by Augustana

  Present Day

  THE UMPIRE BLOWS his whistle with a puffed chest and an overly exaggerated sense of authority, seeing as this is a peewee soccer game. Gage lets loose a battle cry, beats his little chest, and bounds across the field to meet his team. Lily’s tiny fingers stay tightly wrapped around Adam’s lawn chair as she pouts.

  “But I’m a princess, Daddy. I don’t want to get dirty. And I don’t want to play with boys,” she whines.

  Adam shakes his head and frowns at her. I don’t know how he does it. One glimpse at her puppy dog eyes and wild curls, and I’m restraining myself from scooping her up for an impromptu tea party in the parking lot. I’m with the munchkin—princesses shouldn’t have to play soccer.

  “I want you to try, Lily Pad. Can you do that for Daddy? Please?” He smooths her hair and rubs a thumb over her cheek.

  She thinks on it for a minute, pursing her lips and looking to the sky. “No, Daddy. I can’t do that.”

  “I’m here, I’m here,” Celia calls out while running toward the field waving her arms. “Whew! I’m so glad you didn’t go on the field without your special gear, Lily.”

  Celia swipes her forehead in exaggerated relief and kneels in front of the self-proclaimed princess. Lily loosens her hold on Adam’s chair and clasps her hands together in excitement.

  “What did you bring, Aunt Cece?”

  Celia claps and bites her lip. “I can’t wait to show you,” she says as she digs in her purse. “I brought the perfect accessories for a butterfly soccer princess.”

  I lean closer to Adam without taking my eyes off the girls. “What the hell is a butterfly soccer princess?” I mutter through the side of my mouth.

  “No clue, but just go with it, man,” Adam mumbles back.

  Celia pulls out two strands of sparkly silver ribbon, and gathers one of Lily’s jersey sleeves into a bunch at her shoulder. She threads the ribbon underneath the shirt and ties it into a bow, effectively making the jersey sleeveless. Lily watches her every move in complete awe.

  “I bought silver ribbon so it would match your blue uniform. Butterfly soccer princesses must always match,” Celia explains with a serious tone.

  “Yes,” Lily whispers as her fingers toy with the ribbon, pure magic playing on her lips.

  Celia finishes tying the second bow. She peers back into her purse and squeals with excitement. “And now for the final touch.”

  Her hand slowly emerges from her purse, holding two tiny pink butterflies with glittered wings. Each has a clip on the bottom, and Celia attaches a butterfly to the center of each of Lily’s silver bows.

  Lily’s hands shoot up to cover her “o” shaped mouth, and her little body vibrates with excitement.

  “These are where butterfly soccer princesses get their power, Lily,” Celia explains. “Now, can you show me your sparkly wings?”

  Celia holds up her hands on either side of her head, and wiggles her fingers. Lily giggles and copies her hand motions.

  “Like this?” Lily asks.

  “Exactly! But your wings can only sparkle when you make a goal. Are you gonna try your best to give me sparkly wings today?”

  “She’s a damn genius,” Adam mutters, shaking his head.

  “I’m gonna do it!” Lily screeches right before she darts across the field to meet her teammates.

  “Will you marry me?” Adam asks as he wraps an arm around Celia’s neck and plants a kiss on
top of her head.

  “Quit manhandling her, dude,” I say as I pull Celia away from his grasp and park her in the lawn chair next to mine. I saved her the one with the pillow attached to the back. What can I say? I’m a gentleman.

  Celia lets out a giggle as she settles into her chair and crosses her legs. I give a quick mental “thank you” to Mother Nature for the warm weather as Celia’s shorts creep up her hot, little legs. “I had a feeling our little princess would be obstinate. Sparkles and glitter make soccer a whole lot more fun for princesses.”

  Adam lets out a sigh of relief. “Look, I don’t care how you did it. I had no idea how I was going to get her on that field. I was two ‘pleases’ away from giving up. I only wanted her to try something new, and it turned into a huge stand off. Seriously, thank you for saving the day.”

  “No problem,” Celia says with a smile. She puts on her sunglasses and tips her head to the sun. “You should have invited Sara to join us, Adam. She would have enjoyed seeing Lily and Gage play, and I would have enjoyed the extra dose of estrogen. With Audrey away at the pharmaceutical rep training for the last couple months, I could have used her girl power against you two knuckleheads.”

  “Don’t go there,” Adam warns.

  “I’m just saying. You let Cain, Audrey, and me come to the games, so I don’t see why Sara should be any different.” Celia turns to me for reinforcement, but I throw my hands up on this one. Double-teaming him will only piss him off more.

  “You don’t have to understand it, Celia. It doesn’t concern you.” Adam pushes forward in his chair and props his elbows on his knees, giving his full attention to the game.

  Celia takes a deep breath, and I can tell she’s about to beat the Sara horse to death, and then drag it down the street. Luckily for all of us, her phone starts chirping, distracting her. After looking at the caller ID, she stands and squeezes my shoulder.

  “I have to take this. Be right back,” she whispers as she places the phone to her ear and walks away.