by M. C. Decker
Padding down the hallway, I found Bentley in the kitchen wearing nothing but the same pair of faded jeans from the previous night. His back was turned to me and from what I could tell he was flipping pancakes on the electric griddle. I quietly walked about behind him, very much enjoying my view. I mean a sexy man, with an ass on which you could bounce quarters off, cooking in the kitchen? Who wouldn’t enjoy that view?
I put my arms around his sculpted shoulders and nuzzled into his back.
“Well good morning, sleepyhead. I’m sorry if I woke you,” Bentley said, placing a peck on the back of my hand.
“You can wake me any day of the week if I get bacon and kisses. But, you didn’t wake me. I can’t believe I slept until eleven. I’m pretty sure I haven’t slept this late since I was eighteen. You must think I’m such a lazy ass.”
“No, I just like to think that I fucked you so thoroughly last night that you needed a few extra hours to recharge,” Bentley teased, turning to face me.
“Actually, I am feeling pretty energetic,” I said with a wink. “Feed me and there is no telling what I might be capable of doing.”
Before I was able to say another word, Bentley was doubled over, laughing hysterically. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“It’s all I could find in the bedroom,” I shrugged. “You don’t like it? I thought I might take it home with me and make it a new fashion trend. It seems like everything else from the eighties and nineties is coming back. Why not the retro video game T-shirt and candy boxers?” I added, striking a pose.
Bentley pulled me into his chest. “You somehow are able to make anything look sexy, Shamrock. You want to know the best part?” he asked.
“What’s that?”
“I can tell you aren’t wearing a bra under that old T-shirt of mine. Want to know how I know?” he whispered into my ear.
“Hmmmm?”
“I can see your nipples pebbling under that thin fabric. They’re just waiting for me to reach under there and pinch them.” he said, sliding his hands under the shirt and gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over my pert nipples.
I felt my heartbeat increase and a wave of heat coursed through my core. Just as Bentley was lifting me onto the island, we were interrupted by the untimely sound of my stomach growling.
“You’ve seriously got to be kidding me right now,” I groaned.
“I think someone wants food then sex.”
“No, just ignore it. Sex first. I always need sex first,” I encouraged, as my stomach rumbled again.
Bentley placed me back on my feet and turned to grab two plates out of the cupboard.
“As much as I hate turning down your request, we’re eating. You need to keep your energy up for what I’ve planned for later.”
“Is that a promise?” I asked, reaching for the plate of bacon.
“It’s not just a promise, Shamrock. It’s a guarantee.”
“Mmmm,” I moaned. “I think you were telling me stories when you said you couldn’t cook. This bacon is orgasmic.”
“Well I’m capable of cooking bacon and pancakes, but if you want eggs then you’re on your own. And, the only thing in this room that better be giving you orgasms is me. Got it?”
“Aye aye, Sir,” I said with a salute. “Seriously though, where did you get this food? I thought you said the cupboards were bare?”
“I’ve been awake for a few hours. I didn’t want to wake you so I went out for a run and then stopped at the corner market for a few things on my way back.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” I said, stacking four pancakes onto my plate. “But, way to really make me feel lazy. Who runs on a Saturday?”
“I thought you weren’t that hungry?” Bentley questioned, eyeing my plate of food.
“I never said I wasn’t hungry. I just said sex was more important than food. But, since you insisted we eat then I’m going to go big. I don’t believe in half-assing anything,” I said with a playful grin. “Oh and could you please pass the maple syrup?”
“Oh Shamrock, I think that kinky mouth of yours is going to take some getting used to,” he said, passing me the syrup. “Don’t be afraid to let any of that dribble onto your chest. I’d love nothing more than to lick it off your rack later.”
I nearly choked on my orange juice as Bentley began clearing the dishes from the table. It was like a constant game of cat and mouse between us. And, if I’m being honest with myself—I’m quite enjoying it.
After devouring the breakfast that Bentley had made for us. I stood at the sink with warm water and suds up to my elbows.
“Why don’t you hop in the shower. I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes,” Bentley said, coming up and swatting my rear from behind.
“It’s fine. It’s the least I can do after you cooked me all that amazing food. I don’t think I could eat another bite for days. Besides, I thought we could save some time and just shower together.”
“As much as I love that idea, I don’t think it would be saving us any time and I promised my mother we’d visit around two this afternoon,” Bentley explained, looking down at his watch. “And, since Sleeping Beauty didn’t rise until eleven, we don’t have much time.”
“Fine,” I groaned. “I’ll make it quick.”
I pulled a light, mint sundress and black shrug out of the suitcase that Bentley had already rolled into the guestroom and laid them out on the bed so I could quickly get dressed after stepping out of the shower. I decided to forgo washing my hair, opting to pull it back in a messy bun, in order to save a few extra minutes. After all, I’d been the one to sleep away most of the morning, so I didn’t want us to be late to meet Bentley’s parents. It’d been years since I’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. Do I still call them Mr. and Mrs. Roberts? Or, are they just Martin and Rita? I made a mental note to ask Bentley on the ride over to the house. I wanted everything to be perfect. I’d already told Bentley that I loved him and I didn’t want anything holding us back now.
I was just about to turn the water off when the shower door opened and Bentley stepped inside—completely nude. My eyes widened as I took him in from head to toe. I saw Bentley naked last night, but only by moonlight. Bentley by daylight—just fuck me now.
“You’re drooling, Shamrock.”
“I’m what?” I stammered, unable to take my eyes away from his perfect V and light trail of hair which led to his already fully erect cock.
“Like what you see?”
“Mmmmmhmmmm.”
“Eyes up here,” he said, pointing to his own eyes.
I did as asked and stared into his big brown orbs. “I like what I see too, Ireland. If I failed to tell you last night, I think you’re beautiful,” he said, taking my mouth into his and sliding his hands down my already slippery front. “Fucking breathtakingly gorgeous.”
“I thought you said we were going to be late,” I mumbled, trying not to break the contact between us.
“I called my folks after I finished up the dishes and told them I had an important errand to run before we’d be there.”
“Bentley, you shouldn’t have lied to your mother.”
“I didn’t lie. I do have a very important errand I need to attend to—I just didn’t tell her that errand was you,” he said with a sly smirk. “She understood and told me to take my time and not to rush. And, since Mother knows best, I plan on taking my sweet time.”
We pulled up to Bentley’s parents’ house about two hours later than expected. Bentley really did take his mother’s advice to heart—he didn’t rush anything. After fully pleasuring me in the shower, he took his sweet time on the bed as well.
“We shouldn’t have taken so long, Bentley,” I said, as he opened the passenger side door and held his hand out for me.
“Would you relax? Everything’s going to be fine. They loved you when we were kids and they’re going to love you now.”
“You don’t know that. They haven’t seen me in decades. What if they don’t think I’m good enough for their son?”
I asked, concern evident in my voice.
“First, I think it’s adorable that this actually concerns you. I’m nearly thirty-five, you know. Hell, as Katie would remind me, that’s nearly forty. This old man is capable of making his own decisions when it comes to the women he dates. But it doesn’t matter anyways because they will love you. I mean, what isn’t there to love? You’ve made a career out of helping orphaned children. You have a heart of gold. You’re pure perfection from the inside out, Shamrock.”
I chuckled, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“OK, you’re right. After last night and this morning, you’re far from pure.”
“Ireland, Darling, it’s been far too long,” Rita interjected, as we walked up the winding cobblestone path which led to the wraparound porch of their remodeled, historic plantation farmhouse.
Rita was just as lovely as I remembered. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose bun with a few curly tendrils framing her face. The pink skirt and ivory blouse she was wearing had me second guessing the linen sundress I’d thrown on, still probably wrinkled from my suitcase.
Bentley’s family had never been hurting for money. Before his retirement, Martin had been CEO of a large southern banking corporation and Rita still owned a chain of successful, high-end clothing boutiques throughout Kentucky and Tennessee.
Money never defined who they were though. His family had always accepted my mother and me even though, as a child, I’d often worn hand-me-down clothes and my mother didn’t drive the fanciest cars. We weren’t poor by any means, my mother kept two jobs to ensure I never did without, but I didn’t grow up with the same luxuries as Bentley.
“You’re just as gorgeous as I remember and you look so much like your mother. I was always so envious of her beautiful blond hair and big green eyes,” Rita added, kissing me on the cheek as we stepped onto the porch. Shit! I’d forgotten to ask Bentley what to call his parents on the drive over. I’ll have to play it safe and cross my fingers that I don’t offend anyone.
“It’s good to see you again, too, Mrs. Roberts,” I said, wrapping my arms around her.
“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s Rita. And, seriously, you really do have such a stunning glow about you.”
Bentley turned his head and gave me a knowing look. So only I could see, he mouthed, “Freshly fucked.”
My face flushed and I cleared my throat hoping Rita hadn’t noticed the exchange between her son and me.
“Mom, stop fawning all over my girlfriend,” Bentley interjected, attempting to take the focus off me. Girlfriend? Did Bentley just refer to me as his girlfriend? I suppose it would be logical since we’d both said those three little words the night before. Was I ready to be Bentley’s girlfriend? Before I had too much time to dwell on the subject, Rita focused her attention onto Bentley.
“Jamie, I’ve missed you, son. Come give your mother a squeeze. If I’d known the only way I was going to get you down here was to go under the knife, I would have scheduled surgery years ago.”
“Mom, stop it. I was just down here with Tanner and Staci at Christmas,” he said, wrapping his mother in a firm embrace.
“That was three Christmases ago,” she said, furrowing her brow. “And, we won’t speak of that awful woman whom I never approved of again. But, I do miss my grandson. It’s been too many months since we made it north to see you. I bet Tanner is getting so big. Hopefully you can bring him down to see his gam-gam soon.”
“That was three years ago? You know I’m sorry, Mom. Things became hectic for a while—you know, with the divorce and all,” Bentley said with remorse. “Tanner would love to come see his grandparents though. We’ll have to Facetime when we get back to Michigan. I know he misses you.”
“Hush. We won’t have any further conversation about it. You have your Ireland by your side now. The way it was always supposed to be,” she said, placing her hand on mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Now, you two head inside. I know Martin is just dying to see you both.”
Just as Rita had foretold, Martin was standing in the foyer waiting for us to enter. He swooped me up into his arms, my feet barely touching the ground, before I’d hardly even stepped over the threshold.
“Well if it’s isn’t our little Shamrock all grown up,” Martin said, placing me back on my feet. “You certainly have grown into a beautiful woman. My son sure is a lucky man.” Everything was happening so quickly. My head began to spin. I hadn’t seen Rita and Martin in nearly twenty years and in that moment, so many emotions and memories came flooding back. I’d always thought of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts as family. But after the accident, they’d been ripped away from me—just like everyone else I’d loved. I took a deep breath hoping it would bring my sudden dizziness to a halt.
“You’ve got that right, Dad,” Bentley interjected, sensing my unease.
“Martin, don’t be rude, let our company come in and sit down,” Rita said, pointing toward the living room.
“Yes, Rita is right. Where are my manners? Please come in and make yourself at home.”
“I have cheese and crackers in the kitchen. Can I get you some iced tea, too?” Rita asked, as she began to exit the room.
“That’d be great, Mom. We’d both like some. Thank you,” Bentley answered.
A few minutes later, Rita came into the room carrying one tray loaded with cheese and crackers, and with cookies, peanuts, trail mix and ham rollups. Martin wasn’t far behind with two large pitchers, one with iced tea and the other filled with lemonade.
“Mom, did you invite the neighborhood and not tell me?” Bentley joked. “I thought we were having dinner shortly.”
“Leave your mother alone, Son. I tried talking some sense into her when she was buying all of this at the market this morning, but she was just so excited that the two of you would be visiting. We don’t get much company as Jamie lives so far north and Kevin is stationed overseas. She’ll be laid up for a while after the knee surgery so I figured I’d let her get away with it just this once.”
I popped up from the couch to help Rita. I don’t know how her impending surgery had already slipped my mind. “Rita, is there anything I can help you with? How are you feeling anyways?”
“No, thank you, Ireland. Please sit back down and relax. Dinner is already in the oven. There isn’t much else to prepare. My knee will be fine, dear.”
Martin poured three glasses of iced tea along with a lemonade for himself before joining his wife on the loveseat. I took a gulp and liquid came shooting out of my mouth.
“Shamrock, are you OK?” Bentley asked, patting me on the back—assuming I was choking.
My face reddened from embarrassment. “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I just wasn’t expecting sweet tea. I forgot that it was a thing down here,” I said on the brink of tears.
Instead of getting angry, Rita started to laugh. “It’s quite all right. I should have warned you. I forgot you crazy northerners drink your tea without sugar. I could never understand the point of that myself. If you prefer tea without sugar why wouldn’t you just drink water?” she said, shaking her head in confusion.
“Let me get a towel to wipe up,” she offered. “The washroom is through the hallway and to your right if you’d like to clean yourself up.”
After taking a few minutes to collect myself, I rejoined Bentley and his parents in the living room.
“Again, I am so sorry about the carpet,” I said.
“Not another word of it, Ireland. You can’t even see a stain,” Rita assured me. “Well, since we know the sweet tea is out—that is what you northerners call it right—how about I pour you a glass of lemonade? Or, I did make up a batch of sangria. Perhaps you would prefer something a little stronger?”
“Actually, sangria sounds perfect.”
After three more glasses of sangria, I was actually starting to feel pretty comfortable around Bentley’s parents.
“Would you like another glass of the good stuff to go with dinner, Ireland?” Rita asked, as she began setting
the table with four place settings.
“No, I think I’ve had more than enough, Rita. At this rate, Bentley will have to carry me out of here.”
“I don’t mind that one bit,” he yelled from the den where he and his dad were watching an Atlanta Braves baseball game.
“James Bentley Roberts! Your mother can hear you,” Rita shouted back.
“Sorry Ma!”
“It’s really OK if you’d like another drink, dear. Just think of it as a fruit salad. I know that secret because that’s the same story I tell myself,” she explained, pouring herself another glass.
“Well, when you put it that way, it’s kind of hard to refuse,” I said, passing her my glass.
Rita and I chatted for a few more minutes before she called the men into the dining room for dinner.
Bentley surprised me a bit as he pulled my chair out from the table and gestured, like a true gentleman, for me to sit before moving it back into place.
“Your mother taught you well,” I said with a smile.
“Can I tell you a secret,” Bentley said, whispering in my ear.
“Of course,” I said, trying to suppress my laughter.
“She’s watching me like a hawk. When you excused yourself to use the bathroom, she told me she would kick my ass if I messed this up.”
That was all it took for me to fully lose it. I doubled over in laughter as Rita walked into the room carrying a piping hot tray of homemade macaroni and cheese.
“What do you two find so funny?” Rita asked, setting the tray directly in front of me.
“Your son was telling me about the threats you made while I was freshening up. Thank you for having my back, Rita.”
“Always, dear. Us girls have to stick together,” she said with a sly wink.
“Did you hear that Dad? We don’t even stand a chance.” Bentley said to Martin who had taken a seat at the head of the table.
“It’s best if you just smile and nod, Son. Surely you have learned that at your age,” Martin said.
I could tell Bentley was getting a kick out of this exchange between his parents. “Please school me, Dad. What is your tip for a successful marriage?”