by Cat Porter
Inès had lost her mom in a car accident long before I had lost mine, and her dad had turned into a freak show.
She had me, and we had each other. We cooked, shopped for food with whatever money he’d left for us, did our laundry at the crap Laundromat down the street, and managed to get our homework done.
Uncle Johnny’s grunting grew more intense, and the woman started letting out more of those weird squeaking noises.
Inès’s fingers traced a lazy trail across my chest and down my middle.
“Don’t.”
“Ticklish?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then, what?” she asked, her fingers still stroking me.
“Just—don’t.”
I was too embarrassed to tell her, but it was painfully obvious and getting more and more painful all the time.
“I know.”
I blew out a breath of air. “What do you know?”
“It’s this, isn’t it?” Her hand stroked over my huge erection.
“Stop it!” I clamped a hand on her wrist.
She planted a kiss on my chest and kept stroking me.
“Shit, stop it,” I breathed, my hips moving.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
Her palm cupped my balls over the thin cotton of my boxer briefs, and my body jerked. I choked on a moan.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” I said through my gritted teeth.
She lightly stroked me up and down, up and down. “Have you done it before? With Lucy?”
Lucy, a girl who liked me at school. She’d only let me cop a feel of her tits so far.
“No.”
A noise rolled in the back of Inès’s throat as her hand kept moving over me. My muscles were on fire. I was on fire. Should I let myself react? It was too difficult not to react, so difficult to hold it back.
“Oh,” fell out of my lips.
The pear scent of the shampoo we both used floated through me as her head shifted over my chest.
Her hand slid under the waistband of my worn-out boxers.
“Ah, Inès!”
“Is that good?” she whispered. “I’ve heard you when you do it to yourself. You always think I’m sleeping. I want to do it to you.”
My fingers dug into her shoulder, my other hand curled into the sheets at my side, fisting the nubby material. My lungs hurt from holding air in. I was too afraid I’d explode, and then Uncle Dickwad might hear us.
Would I get loud like he did?
If he caught us, he’d throw me out on the street, kill me. He hated having me around, another mouth to feed. But he’d grown to like the fact that I now looked out for his daughter. He didn’t have anything restraining him from his daily or nightly activities—women, drugs, gambling, stealing.
I clamped my jaw down tight against the strain.
She kissed the side of my face and nuzzled my throat as her strokes grew harder.
My feelings for Inès were a secret wish I’d kept locked up in my twisted heart. I barely understood these feelings myself. She was my first cousin, as good as a sister.
We can’t. It’s wrong. So wrong.
But with every stroke of her hand, those feelings exploded like tiny hot-air balloons all through me. It felt good…so good. The wrong made it even better.
“Shit!” My cock throbbed and pulsed, my hips tensed.
A string of Spanish curses and loud drawn-out groans coming from Uncle Johnny and his puta were the soundtrack for my very first orgasm at the hands of a girl.
I blew, my cum spurting.
Her body jolted. “Oh!”
Both our gazes went to my dick in her hand. She blinked up at me. Waves of euphoria flooded through me.
“That felt so good,” I whispered.
She smiled against my skin and crashed her mouth against mine. She gave me her tongue, and my stomach flipped. I swirled in a kaleidoscope of color and distorted sensations.
This was what kissing should be like.
This wasn’t what I should be doing with Inès. This was for other girls…for Lucy…
This was bad. This was wrong.
Fuck it. Ah, fuck it.
I took her in my arms and kissed her deep.
She pulled away, giggling, her dark eyes huge, and sparks went off in my chest. I hadn’t heard that sweet tiny laugh of hers or seen such an effortless smile on her face in ages.
“Gosh, my hand is…full of you. This gets messy, huh?”
I dropped to her side and pulled her in close to me. “Very messy.”
“Hi.”
A child’s voice sliced through my fog, bringing me back to the doctor’s waiting room. Two big brown eyes with long lashes stared up at me.
I sat up straight, my eyes focusing on that small face. It was the little boy whose mother had been reading to him.
“Hey there,” I replied, clearing my throat, pushing my hair away from my face.
“Brent, come back here.” The mom gestured at her son. “Don’t bother the man. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Hi, Brent.”
He tilted his head at me.
I gestured at the book his mother held in her hands. “You like your book?”
Brent nodded.
“I like books, too.”
Brent stared at me, as if he’d finally met Darth Vader. A mix of fascination, awe, and excitement sprinkled with dread.
I pointed to his T-shirt that had dancing carrot and broccoli figures on it. “You, uh…eat your vegetables? You like broccoli?”
He only made a nasty face, and I laughed.
“How about cucumbers?”
Brent shrugged his shoulders.
“I like cucumbers,” I said. “They’re really fresh and…refreshing. You got to try ’em. They’re green, too, but they’re tasty. You gonna try ’em?”
Brent nodded. He reached out and touched my silver rings, his fingers landing on my One-Eyed Jacks skull.
“Honey, don’t touch the man!” The mom’s face tightened. “I’m so sorry.” She moved to stand up.
I held my free hand up at her. “It’s fine. Please.”
Brent’s tiny lips parted as his index finger traced the round, smooth head of the skull. “You like that one, huh?” I asked him. “Me, too. That’s my favorite. You like this one?” I pointed to the fanged snake ring.
His eyes widened, his lips twitching as he nodded again.
“You’re a lucky boy to have a mommy who reads to you.”
“Does your mommy read to you?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, she did when I was like you.” I slid up in my seat, lifting my sunglasses off my face. “She was real busy though, so she didn’t have a lot of time to read to me. But I liked it a lot when she did.” I glanced over at the book his mother held in her hands. A lion, a zebra, and a giraffe decorated the cover. “You like animal stories?”
His eyes lit up, and he smiled.
I smiled back. “Me, too. I liked jaguars the best.”
“Jag-oo-ars?”
“Yeah, they’re big cats that run very, very fast. Like tigers, sort of, but they have spots instead of stripes. They’re beautiful.”
“Ja-jag-oo-ars!” Brent said.
I’d loved tigers, lions, jaguars, cheetahs, leopards, panthers at Brent’s age. My mom would bring home small picture books for me, and we’d sometimes go to the library and search for more. We would both try to sketch the animals, and I’d color while she cleaned our tiny apartment. We’d plaster the kitchen and our bedroom walls with our creations. Our homemade wallpaper would hide the cracks in the walls, the old stains that she had desperately tried to wash off with bleach but would never come out.
“Mi cachorro, you are so good at coloring. You stay within the lines, and you make the colors so bold, so alive. Muy bueno.”
“Let’s find a jaguar.” I took out my cell phone, got online, and looked up pictures of jaguars for Brent. I clicked on one of a jaguar crouching, about
to spring into action. “Here’s one.” I tilted my phone toward him. “What do you think?”
Brent leaned over my arm, his thirsty gaze gulping down the animal’s photo on my screen. He bobbed up and down on his toes, his fingers digging into my forearm. “Ja-goo-ar!”
“Ja-goo-ar!” I roared, and he laughed loudly, hopping on his toes.
“Mrs. Landon?” the nurse called through the glass window.
Brent’s mom slowly pushed up from her seat, a hand over her huge belly.
“Come on, Brent, honey, it’s our turn,” she said. She turned to me, her face softening. “Thank you. He doesn’t usually talk to strangers at all. You obviously made quite an impression. All the best to you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said as Brent shuffled back over to her. “Bye, Brent.”
Brent took his mother’s hand, but his eyes remained on me as she pulled him through the open door.
I rubbed my thumb over the jaguar on my phone’s screen.
Mi cachorro.
My mother always had a variety of sweet names for me. She’d said she was going to use them all whenever she could because, one day, I’d be grown up, and I wasn’t going to let her say them anymore or let her hold my hand or kiss me on the cheek.
She was wrong.
What I wouldn’t give to hear her voice call me “my puppy” in that gorgeous Argentinian Spanish of hers once again.
“Mi flaco.”
I’d been her skinny boy all right.
I wiped a hand over my mouth and took in a short breath.
The door clicked open, and Grace and Jill swept into the waiting room, both of them beaming. I sprang to my feet.
“Super-baby is fine. We saw and heard the heartbeat. Here, look.” Jill handed me a photo of a mass of gray and black blobs. “She or he is doing great.”
“Great news.” I held her gaze. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, wait! I forgot to ask the doctor something.” She brushed past me and Grace and talked to the receptionist, who gestured her back through the open door again. I handed Grace the photo, and she studied it, probably for the hundredth time.
A few minutes later, Jill reappeared and slid her hand in mine. “All set. Let’s go. I’m starving.”
“What did you forget? Is everything okay?” asked Grace.
“You know me. I had a couple of questions about food and calorie intake. Now that I’m in the second trimester, I want to make sure I’m on the right track.”
“You’re so good about that.” Grace breezed through the front door and hit the elevator button. “Woman of steel.”
Jill squeezed my hand, her face pink.
We waved at Grace as she drove out of the parking lot, and I got Jill in the truck. I swung in and started her up.
“She said yes,” Jill said.
“Who?”
“My doctor, just now.”
I turned out onto the street. “Yes? About what?”
“She said yes about the sex.”
I tore my eyes away from the road and shot her a glance. “She did?”
“She did. Yes to everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes!” She laughed. “I didn’t want to ask in front of Grace. It felt…weird. Is that silly?”
“No, sweetheart.”
I squeezed her thigh, and her hand clapped over mine.
“My first trimester went well, and now that I’m in the second, I’m good to go.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But we should use a condom and lots of lube—water-based lube only, she said—if we’re going to have anal sex.”
“Ah.” Images of Jill naked and on all fours in front of me, her luscious ass squirming back against my cock jumped in my head. I adjusted myself in my seat.
“I’m in the mood for a huge breakfast now—waffles with lots of butter and syrup, eggs, bacon, the works.”
“Oh, yeah? What about all those calories you were talking about before?”
She leaned back against the headrest, a relaxed smile on her face, both her hands pressing mine. “I think I can afford the indulgence. I’m going to need the extra calories now. Don’t you think?”
“Baby, I’m still stuck on the way you said ‘lots of lube.’”
“Boner, focus. I want waffles. Really good waffles.”
“There’s only one place then. It’s in Pine Needle.”
“Two towns over from Meager, right? I’ve never been.”
“Not much to see, except for this great little cafe.”
Her hand stroked mine. “Is there a drugstore there, too?”
WE FINISHED OUR TERRIFIC, terrifically huge, breakfast at the small cafe in Pine Needle, and Boner brought me home. I was so relaxed, so full of food, so happy that the baby was fine and that Grace was relieved.
We stepped into Rae’s house and were met with quiet. A text from Penny when we’d left the cafe had told me that she had taken Becca to her house for the morning as Rae was tired and would bring her back around noon. I peeked into Rae’s room where the door was ajar. She was asleep.
“Poor thing. Last night must have really stressed her out. She never usually takes naps this early in the day.”
“This shit’s gotta be hard on her.”
“It is. She’s a tough lady, but your son is your son—not to mention, your only granddaughter. I’m so thirsty. That bacon did a number on me.”
I went into the kitchen, got a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water from the faucet. Boner came up behind me as I drank, a hand moving around my middle. He swept my hair to the side and gently bit my neck, and a shiver raced over my skin.
My head fell back against his chest. “Bone.”
“Can’t get enough of you.” His hot breath fanned my neck. “But gotta get back to the club.”
“No time for a quickie?” I leaned over the counter and pushed back against him. I couldn’t help myself.
A groan and a long string of curses flew from his mouth as his hands rubbed my hips and down my ass. He ground himself against me. My one arm flew back and went around his neck.
His hand went under my skirt, between my legs.
“Bone, God—”
“Jill, honey, are you here?” came Rae’s tired voice from within the house.
I jerked like a live wire, and Boner’s body stiffened against me.
“I’m in the kitchen, Rae!” I called out. “Just cleaning up. Be there in a minute.”
Boner moved again, his erection grinding up against my ass.
“Take your time. Did they say if it’s going to rain today, honey?” asked Rae from her bedroom as the voices of chirpy morning news reporters flared from her television set.
Boner pulled my skirt up further, and his hands ran up my bare thighs.
“I-I’m not sure!” I said.
He tore down my panties to my knees.
I sucked in air, my hands clinging to the edge of the counter. “Would you like a cup of tea, Rae?” My voice strained.
“Sounds perfect,” she replied.
I leaned over on a groan and filled the electric kettle with water. I jammed it in its base and flipped the switch on it.
He kneaded my ass, tightly squeezing the flesh. I moaned as his fingers teased my rear entrance, slid down into my wetness. My skin heated with the promise of more.
His teeth sank into my ass cheek, and I let out a groan. I lifted myself up on my toes as he licked me, his fingers working me. This was something off the charts, something that satisfied another part of me, not just getting to the big O. I gasped at the torrent of pleasure thundering through me, my body a mass of electricity.
The kettle beeped, and as if on cue, I came.
He released his grip on me. His warm tongue snaked over the curve of my ass, lavishing the bite mark he’d undoubtedly left behind. That mouth then made a trail up my lower back. I held myself up at the sink, my legs wobbling, the room spinning at his sudden gentleness.
He chuckled, his face in my neck, and i
nhaled deeply, as if he were committing my scent to memory, feeding some sort of essential hunger. He let go of me, washed his hands at the sink, and splashed water over his face. I handed him a couple of paper towels, and he rubbed his face dry as I fixed my skirt.
“You going?” I was in a haze.
“Yeah, baby, I got to get to work.” He grinned. Devilish and playful all at once. “And you have tea to make.”
Right, the tea.
Boner let out a laugh and planted a kiss on my forehead. He headed out the back door.
“Wait!” I lunged at him, throwing my arms around his neck.
His eyes met mine, his hands pressing in at my sides. A slow smile lit up his face. He was surprised.
So was I.
I brushed his lips with mine. “Have a good day at the office, dear.”
His body shook with laughter.
JIMMY FALLON TAPPED through a song-and-dance routine with a celebrity who was promoting his new movie.
Click.
A Republican senator defended his harsh comments against the Democratic governor of his state.
Click.
Ugly gold hoop earrings with diamond chips were bargain-priced on a home shopping channel.
Click.
A hard-rock music video from the ’80s. The drummer shook his head so hard that all his crimped long hair rippled in his face as he banged on the drums, his sweaty arms shining in the colored lights swirling over him.
“Whoa.”
My cell phone buzzed, and I absently reached over and grabbed it off the nightstand. My journal and pen fell, thudding on the carpet.
“Hello?” I crunched on ice from my glass of water.
“Jill?”
My body jumped at the sound of Boner’s voice, and my glass tipped, spilling cold water on my camisole top.
“Hi. How are you?” I sat up in bed and put the glass on my nightstand, wiping down the water from my cami.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”