by Hall, S. E.
“Laney, we—” he starts, chest rising and falling with his invigorated breaths.
Using my knees, I raise myself off him, not-so-sexily working off my pants but leaving on my panties, then quickly tugging his pants and boxers to his hips. He raises himself, not really putting up the fight despite trying to stop me with his words.
“We are gonna do this, right here, right now.” I nibble on his bottom lip and run my hands up his bare chest, circling my index fingers around his nipples and giving him my best “come fuck me” eyes.
“You sure, baby?” he moans, taking his hardness in hand and running the tip up and down the soaked crotch of my panties, teasing me, giving me the chance to change my mind…or to beg for it.
“God, yes,” I’m lost, hands tugging at his hair, mouth moving rhythmless and crazed over his neck, trekking down slowly to his chest, now covered in a slight sheen of anticipation and fragrant of musky, virile man.
“Back pocket, wallet,” he pants, “grab it for me. Hurry.”
He tears my panties apart and off in one masterful move, tossing them on the dash and enflaming me with that conceited wink of his, using his nimble, seeking fingers to make it impossible for me to successfully retrieve anything from anywhere. Instead, I bow my back, head touching the steering wheel now.
“Grab my wallet, Laney, or my hand’s gotta leave you.”
The threat of losing his touch snaps me back into reality. As fast as possible, I reach around him and dig out the condom, but then realize he has yet again taken control…and I’m taking it back, showing him what his woman can do.
“Scoot the seat back; give me room to work,” I demand.
He follows my direction, using the hand not currently driving me mad with its punishing in and out pursuit, all the while staring at me with a wild curiosity in his eyes. His tongue trails over his bottom lip in wicked invitation. I slink backwards, sliding to my knees on the floor board, my heels digging into my ass. Leaning forward between his legs, I grip under his thighs, just a hint of fingernails, and yank him forward, never breaking our connected stares.
“This time, you’re gonna be a good boy.” I lean in and give him a one long base-to-tip preview lick. “And you’ll do exactly as I say.”
The guttural noise that escapes him may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “For you,” he throws back his head and groans, “anything.”
“Put your hands behind your head,” I trace one finger under his boys, back to front, “move them and I stop. Understand?”
“Mmm, for you,” he hums, looking down, intent on catching every second of the show.
One finger becomes my whole hand, rolling his balls with enough roughness to satisfy him, to make sure he knows I’ve got him. Unable to help himself, he takes himself in one hand, rubbing up and down slowly, so as promised, I lean back, depriving him of all contact from me. My brows raise and I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to move that hand or tell me we’re done.
“You better get that sweet mouth on me soon or I’m taking back the reins,” he warns, his voice low, throaty, and very menacing.
“Get that hand back up then.”
With a sexy but warning pout, he inches his hand back behind his head in slow motion. The storm brewing in his eyes tells me my sexy as hell control freak is about to lose his ever-loving mind.
Feeling empowered, I pooch out my duck lips, kissing up one side of his dick and down the other, wet, sloppy kisses. “Now what?” I ask innocently, trying to let him have some facet of authority…but low and behold, I see one hand creeping back down from my periphery.
“Uh, uh, uh, Mr. Kendrick, no hands. Tell me.” I turn his sexy language on him.
“Suck all of me down, baby,” he whines, shifting in his seat, just dying from this transfer of power. “Laney! Fuck!”
He moans then shouts as I take him in all at once, tightening my lips around him and hinting with my teeth on the upstroke. It stretches the corners of my mouth impossibly, leaving the faintest hint of saltiness at the back of my tongue and I suck with abandon, bobbing up and down like a dashboard doll, wanting for once to be the one setting the pace, driving him mad, making him shake uncontrollably and shriek my name.
I’m pulled off him, catching my bearings and breathing as he pants down into my face, an almost painful grip on my upper arms. Oh yeah. He’s at that place he always takes me to…Fuck Me ‘Fore I Die Town. Using my teeth to rip open the condom, I grin, reveling in this moment, and begin to roll it over him.
“You ready for me?” I blink flirtatiously, wondering if I can actually get fire to come out of his nose.
He laughs, deep and loud, almost evilly, and grabs under my arms, pulling me up on his lap at the speed of light.
“Spread those legs and straddle me.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He has hit ground zero and my role as chief is over. My legs go apart and slide down on either side of his hips. “Soak my hand first,” he demands, two fingers mercilessly gaining entrance as his thumb rubs circles right where it needs to. “You drive me crazy, baby, teasing me. Now be my good girl.” He kisses me, biting and tugging my lip painfully, then apologizing with a smooth lick. “Move with it; fuck my hand just how you want,” he croons as he ambidextrously uses his left hand to pull down my shirt and bra cup, sucking one painfully hard nipple into his mouth. “Give it to me, Laney. Come for your man.” He bites down on the point and I explode, screaming his name through the shakes of my body and trembling of my thighs.
“Dane,” I moan, coming down from the high only he can send me on, “so good. So good.”
He pulls his fingers out, licking me deliberately off him. “Mmmmm baby,” he rumbles, then grips that hand around his base, “take me there too, baby. Get on this,” he demands, his voice low and gritty, “and slide down real slow.”
Teasingly, euphorically, I take him in me, the physical connection shadowed only by the emotional one. It doesn’t matter where we are, it always feels right. When my body is flush against his, I whimper as he growls, kneading the breast he’d bared manically.
“There’s my girl.” He thrusts up into me, emphasizing his murmured point. “Kiss me, hard.”
Gladly, my lips fly to his, tasting his lust for me. A quake runs through him and I feel him throb inside me as he purrs in my mouth, “so close, with me, again baby.” He uses his grip on my hips to show me what he wants. “Roll ‘em down and hard, yeah, fuck yeah, like that.”
Once again his thumb finds me as he warm mouth caresses my breasts. He knows exactly what I need. He’s there; I can feel it and it sets me off, knowing what I can do to him. His name escapes me again, loud and long. “Love you baby, love you so much,” he says sweetly as he kisses up my chest, my chin, ending mouth to mouth slow and sweet. My sweet, sensual caveman.
“Love you too.” I lay my head against his chest, catching my breath.
He rubs up and down my back, kisses my head, every bit as good at afterplay. Finally, I move back to my seat, arranging myself as he, too, takes care of things. The windows are all fogged up, making me laugh, and I wipe out a circle.
“Where are we?” I ask, still not able to quite make it out.
“Come on!” He grabs the keys and opens his door. “I told you I wanted to take you somewhere.”
He’s waiting, hand out for me, when I put my shoes back on and open my door. “It’s dark! What are we doing?” Outside of the car, it’s easy to tell we’re in the driveway of a house. “Dane, it’s late, whose house is this?”
“Yours.” He turns to me and smiles before inserting a key into the front door. “And it’s not a house, it’s a duplex.” His hand finds the switches and two lights come on, illuminating both the porch and front room. “Go check out your new pad, Miss Walker,” he says, kicking the front door shut behind him.
“Wh-what?”
“I bought this place for you. Next year, you don’t have to live on campus; the athletic requirement lifts after your freshman year. T
his place is halfway between my house and school and has no 11pm curfew.” He winks, stalking towards me. “So we can sleep together every night. It’s a duplex, so if I have to be away on business, I know you’re safe with Tate and Bennett living on the other side.”
Duplex, to-ma-to...he bought me a house.
“Do Tate and Bennett know?”
“Not yet. If you hate it, we have to find another one. No sense getting them excited until my baby gives it her stamp of approval. So let me show you around.” He laces his fingers through mine, beginning the tour after a chaste kiss to my fingers. “This is the living room, obviously, I thought we’d go pick out new carpet and paint this weekend.”
I am still in shock, incapable of actual speech, letting him guide me as he sees fit. He bought me a house. A house.
“And this is the kitchen.” He flips on a light.
The kitchen has empty, gaping holes where appliances should be. “You can pick out your fridge and stuff too. I’d like to see new countertops too,” he knocks on it, “unless you like these.” Offset is a kitchen area, the hanging light capturing my attention. “We can change that too; anything for you.”
“I like it, it just needs raised up a bit.”
“Done.”
We move down the hall and he shows me the linen closet and guest bathroom, which I will gladly let him let me redecorate; it’s hideous.
“There’re two bedrooms, this is the spare one,” he says as he ushers me in to the decent-sized room.
“Who will be my roommate?” I ask.
“You don’t have to have one if you don’t want. It’s not like you have to make rent. We can make that room anything you want. Come on, let’s see the master.”
My room is huge, much bigger than any I’ve ever had, with a private bathroom (also needing severe redecoration), a walk-in closet, and the coolest bay window.
“I love it.” I spin, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I can’t believe you bought me a house. You’re too good to be true.” I kiss him deeply, trying to tell him all the big, fluffy words that mean I love you that I can’t iterate.
“I can’t wait to christen every inch of this place,” he says, his wink on auto-pilot, “and hold you every single night. But for now, let’s go to my house. At least until we get furniture here.” He laughs.
“My dad will give me my bedroom furniture, but what am I gonna do about the other rooms?”
“You’re going to fill them with stuff we pick out together. That way I’m there to ensure it’s all sturdy enough.” He answers my confused look by dipping me back, sucking right at the hollow dip in my throat. “Think about it, baby, you’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER 29
Fortress
***Evan***
“So what’d you do all night?” Whitley whispers long after I thought she was asleep.
“I’ll show you tomorrow when it’s light out and you’re sober. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m sober now,” she rolls towards me, “and I’m not tired. What was all that in the living room? I wanna go see.”
I’d planned a big night, as much set up inside as out, but when I picked her up and found her drunk, I thought it’d be easier to just carry her in and tuck her in bed. How she’d remained floppy as a rag doll when I dressed her down to panties and a shirt for sleeping but somehow caught the production in the living room I’m not sure. I suspect I’d been duped and her snuggling up against me, bare legs thrown over me, was purposeful.
Not that I mind.
“You sure you don’t want to just go back to sleep? You seemed pretty tipsy before.”
“I’m fine now, promise. So will you show me?” She bounces, happy and perfectly coherent.
“Okay.” I get up, taking her hand. I switch on her hall light as we pass so we’ll have just enough ambience in the living room. I can’t wait to see if she likes it. Everything I’ve done having a recurring theme—I want to give Whitley some childhood fun.
My childhood was great. Both my parents were involved; there were camping and fishing trips, sports, game nights, toys, backyard football, and sledding on the rare snow days we got. Basically, I got it all.
Whitley got next to nothing. Through comments she didn’t even realize she’d made and the few stories she’s shared, I learned a lot about her childhood. Whitley’s her parents’ starched and pressed trophy daughter, never allowed to let loose or get dirty.
Evan Allen’s fixin’ to show her the good stuff. You’ll never be happy with where you end up if you weren’t happy with where you’ve been. And I’ve seen enough glimpses into the real Whitley to know that the girl is dying to have fun, get filthy, and let her hair down…who better to do all that with than yours truly?
“Ready?” I lean my head around hers, making sure my hands completely cover her eyes.
“Yes!”
“Ta-da!” I remove my hands and watch as she takes in the scene before her, then tries to give me a counterfeit smile. “You don’t like it?” I ask, disappointment setting in heartbreakingly fast.
“Oh, I’m sure I love it,” she says politely, then nibbles her bottom lip, glancing over to me. “What is it?”
Poor, sheltered, ripped off Whitley. “It’s a living room fort! Haven’t you—” No, you know she hasn’t, fool! “Come on!”
I drag her over and crawl into the makeshift fortress, which is constructed the good, old-fashioned way—every blanket and sheet I could find draped over and/or held up by every chair in the house and other tall, sturdy things. Every kid’s favorite spot.
“Come in here with me!” I call out to her. “It’s fun.”
She probably thinks I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind, but my powers only go so far. I can’t make her a little kid again (never gonna happen) but I can bring the little kid to her.
Her sweet little face pops in through the opening. “This is awesome!” she says dreamily, crawling in further. “Wow, you thought of everything.”
I’d stacked pillows and blankets inside, making the most comfortable bunker possible, and of course, stocked all the other necessities. “Here.” I hand her one of the flashlights, flicking my own to life. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I run and turn out the hall light and hurry back inside with her, the flashlights now our only glow. “I have snacks, cards, and—”
“I think we should tell ghost stories!” she suggests with a giggle.
Oh yeah, she gets it, and she’s having a blast. Sawyer had called me an array of names when he saw what I had in store; pussy, cheesy and cornball the ones I specifically remember, but Dane hadn’t said a word, just shot me a knowing smile…’cause well, his girlfriend is Laney. Enough said.
Being best friends with Laney all those years, I know all about a girl’s “inner child.” Women try their whole lives to stay young; cosmetics, hair dye, tanning salons…plastic surgeons and Wonderbra companies have built empires around that fact. So any chance you have to make a woman feel young and whimsical, channeling her inner tea party and fairy…you do it. Especially if they never got to enjoy it in the first damn place.
“Excellent fort activity, Miss Thompson. Would you like to go first?”
“No, you go first.” She lays down, her head in my lap. “I’m ready.”
“This is called Who Stole My Golden Arm,” I begin, laughing as a shiver runs through her body.
***
If you’ve never been woken up by a piglet rooting your face with its sloppy, wet nose, well, you’re not living right, ‘cause it is just great.
“Ugh,” I groan, pushing the little pain in the ass away, “go see your mother.”
“Come here, baby,” she mumbles sleepily, pawing around to find him. “He’s just jealous of how much I love you.”
She may be right, but I’m too tired and stiff to think about it. I don’t remember sleeping in a fort being this damn uncomfortable when I was a kid. Hay stacks, forts…one of these days I’m gonna hold Whitley all night long in a bed.
/> “You want coffee?” I roll over and face her. She looks adorable when she wakes up, messy hair and sleepy blue eyes peeking out at me from her blanket cocoon.
“I’ll make it!” She smiles. “Will you take Tiny out? His leash is by the door.”
Along with his monogrammed food and water bowl, his toy pile and his wagon. Yes, wagon.
Me and Ms. Thang are gonna go round and round when it comes to our kids. My sons will not be pansies and my little girls will not be pageant brats.
Okay, so maybe my little blonde, blue-eyed princess would look cute waving to her daddy from the stage, all frills and bows…
The pig starts whining at me, climbing precariously close to my junk, breaking my trance. Was I just spacing out on mine and Whitley’s babies? That’s something I’ve never done before ever.
“All right, Wilbur, let’s go out,” I grumble, getting up.
“You’ll confuse him if you call him other names!” she calls from the kitchen. My hummingbird has the ears of a werewolf.
“What are you gonna do when he has to go live on the farm?” I wrap my arms around her from behind, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Will I get all that leftover attention?” My mouth seeks her neck now. “‘Cause I’ll take it.”
“Maybe,” she teases, and I could swear pushes her butt into me just a bit. “I’ll make you pancakes while you take him out.”
God, I hope there’s no one outside, seeing me walking a damn pig on a leash. The things men do for their women.
“I’ll clean up the living room when I get back in since you’re cooking.” I steal another taste of her neck.
“No, leave it, I wanna sleep there again tonight.”
“Okay then,” I chuckle at her, already feeling my back and legs stiffen up. “Come on, Porky.”
I keep walking as she scowls at me behind my back. Yes, I’m sure.
***
“There’s more?” she asks, her voice chipper and anxious.
“Well, yeah, you didn’t think it took me all that time just to set up the fort, did you?”