Southern Girl Series: Bohemain Girl, Neighbor Girl & Intern Girl

by Cates, Georgia

  “Have a good time with your friends?”

  “We had a blast. It’s been way too long since we did something like that.”

  “No Maurice?”

  “Dear Lord, no. He’s in a different circle than Jill and Val. And the two circles don’t overlap; he and his bold personality are not their cup of tea.”

  Understandable. He’s not really mine either.

  “Do Jill and Kristin know about Martin?”

  “They know him but neither have a clue about the abuse.” She tilts her head and begins twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “You don’t tell people about that kind of stuff. Not even the best of friends.”

  You keep your mouth shut. It’s an unspoken rule. Strange how it goes with the territory no matter who’s experiencing abuse. “Guess it makes no difference if you’re a six-year-old little boy or a grown woman.”

  “People don’t understand the shame that goes along with abuse unless they’ve experienced it.”

  “I agree with that statement one hundred percent.”

  “Enough about that.”

  I’m glad she’s changing the subject. I hate talking about the first six years of my childhood. And I don’t love hearing about the abuse she went through either.

  “Jill and Kristin are single?”

  “Yeah. Kris is a serial dater. She goes out with a different guy every weekend. Jill’s been out of the dating scene since Tommy died—they were engaged. She’s been stuck in a funk ever since.”

  “Fuck. That’s awful. Was she your friend before she became your brother’s fiancée?”

  “Yeah. I lived with her and her family my senior year.”

  I recall Adelyn telling me about a friend’s family who took her in when her parents left Birmingham.

  “You don’t talk about your parents much. Do you ever see them?” They’ve not been to visit since I moved in next door.

  “Not as much since they moved to Virginia but they’re coming into town Tuesday. Five days of hellfire and brimstone from Daddy while Mama worries the shit out of me about getting married and having babies. In that order. I’m getting to be an old maid, you know. Should be fun.”

  Sounds like Daddy is a real Bible-thumper. I bet he ain’t all about a queen in full drag singing Whitney Houston. “What do your parents think of Maurice?”

  “That he’s one of God’s children so we love him. And we should pray often that he stops his sinful ways and gets right with the Lord.”

  Sinful ways. No way I’m gonna make the cut with Daddy. “Is that what they’ll say about me when they find out I’m a beer brewer?” Assuming I’ll get to meet them.

  “Oh God. It’ll be the same song, second verse. We should lie and tell them you’re a schoolteacher who also teaches a Bible study group at the Baptist church down the street.”

  “Makes me sound respectable.”

  “You have no idea how much my mom would love that. She’d probably propose to you on my behalf.”

  “I don’t think I’d ever pass for a schoolteacher who teaches a Bible study group.”

  “What would you like to tell them then?”

  Things could be good between Adelyn and me. I want to see where this could go.

  “We tell them that I’m a beer brewer.” I hold out my arms. “With lots of tattoos, which I’m sure will go over very well. And that I’m seeing their daughter.”

  She smiles. “Well, you are a beer brewer and you have lots of tattoos so two of those three statements are true.”

  No need to pussyfoot around this. I want her and she needs to know that. “What if I want all three to be true?”

  Her eyes widen and she looks like she wants to say something. But nothing comes out.

  “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

  I sense a tug of war happening behind her hazel eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you want there to be an us, Max. Say you’ll forgive me for being an enormous jackass. Say you’re willing to bend a little. Let me try a subtler version of what you want, without the choking. At least for now until I gain my footing. And together we find a way to satisfy your needs while not going beyond my limits.”

  “You want to compromise?”

  “Exactly. A little give and take. Isn’t that what relationships are all about?”

  “You’re asking for a relationship?”

  “Yes. I’ve missed everything about you while we were apart. Can we try again?”

  The smile I’m seeing now is the one I have longed to see. “I want to try again too, but my answer would depend on what you’re willing and unwilling to do.”

  “I can’t answer that until I know the things you like.”

  Her fingers toy with a strand of hair. “How do we go about this? Verbally go through a list or do some trial runs to see what you’re comfortable doing?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far in my head.”

  “Talking about it and doing it are two different things.”

  “I wouldn’t think otherwise.”

  She gets up from the sofa, takes my hands in hers, and tugs so I’m standing. “Take me to your bedroom. We’ll experiment and see what happens.”

  “Okay.”

  She follows me upstairs, her hand inside of mine. I turn on the lamp beside my bed and face her. Awaiting instructions.

  Adelyn and I are so compatible outside the bedroom. I really want and need our compatibility to spill over into our sexual chemistry. I desire so much more with her than just a friendship. I want this to be more than just fucking.

  “We’re not having sex tonight. I already know that’s in your comfort zone. Tonight is about finding out what isn’t.”

  I thought we were here to explore. Compromise. How do we do that without sex?

  I humiliated Adelyn last time we were together. I made her feel insecure about herself and what she wanted. I guess I have to earn back the right to be inside her again. And I will. “Okay.”

  “First lesson. An alpha male wouldn’t simply say ‘okay’ if he were in the mood to fuck.”

  “I was taught that when a woman says no, she means it, and I’d better listen to her.”

  Libby Thorn would kick my ass if she ever thought I made the decision to not hear a woman tell me no.

  “That’s true for every other woman in the world, but those women don’t belong to you. This is different because I’m yours. Or I could be depending upon how this goes.”

  I’m yours.

  Those words are strange and hot as hell to hear her say she belongs to me. But that can’t mean I take her whenever I feel like it whether she wants to or not.

  “Are you telling me to force you?” No way in hell I’m doing that. You can put rape and choke in the same no-fucking-way-that’s-happening category.

  “No. I’m telling you to convince me otherwise. Make me want it even when I say I don’t.”

  She turns and pulls her hair into a ponytail. “Grasp it. Wind it around your hand.”

  I push my fingers into her long locks and fist her ponytail as she instructs. I feel like a fucking caveman about to drag his woman around. “Use it to pull me against you.”

  That seems painful. And disrespectful. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s not painful when you hold all of it like that. Trust me. I’ll never ask you to hurt me. I don’t enjoy pain but I like a firm grip.”

  I pull her toward me and her back collides with my front. And my dick. It convulses once, twice, three times before it begins filling with liquid steel.

  “Whisper in my ear. Convince me that I want to stay and fuck instead of walking out the door to go home to my vibrator.”

  Adelyn wants to be controlled. Owned. And I want to give this a fair shot. Maybe make both of us happy in the process. No way she’s going home and getting into that drawer beside her bed tonight. No way that vibrator is getting what belongs to me.

  I push my free hand betwe
en her legs and rub. Up. Down. I pull the bunched ponytail in my hand to the side, tilting her head and fully exposing her neck. After placing a few kisses there, I suck her earlobe into my mouth and hover over the canal. “Your pussy is mine. No one else touches it. No one else licks it. No one else puts his dick inside it. Only. Me.”

  I’m making her mine and she needs to fully understand that.

  I suck her earlobe into my mouth and gently tug on it with my teeth. “Tell me who you belong to.” I stroke my hand in a circular motion between her legs. “Who does this belong to?”

  “Only you.” Her voice is barely audible.

  “That’s right. And I want what’s mine. Right now.”

  I release her hair and move my hands to the button and zipper on her shorts, yanking them open. “I’m going to have your pussy as often as I want it. And you’ll come every time I do.”

  “Please. That’s what I want. What I need.”

  That’s what a man wants to hear.

  I push her shorts and panties down her legs. “Take off your shirt and bra and then turn around. I want to see every inch of you.”

  Full, perky tits. A narrow waist. Hips with curve. An ass with volume in it, one I can grip without worry I’ll break her delicate bony body in half.

  Stunning.

  I pick up a strand of her hair and twirl it around my finger. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

  She is sexy.

  She is confident.

  She is mine.

  I grasp her hips and steer her so she’s facing the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”

  There’s no turning back now. And I don’t want to. I plan on having every part of Adelyn Maxwell, including her heart.

  12

  Adelyn Maxwell

  I climb onto the bed, facedown, and wait for Oliver’s next move. His next command. I’m excited to see how this plays out. How he reacts to being given the power to control me. Handle me with a firm grip. Fuck me with force.

  My clit aches just thinking about it.

  Chords of electric guitars resonate in the room and I immediately recognize “Turn the Page” by Metallica. Classic heavy metal. Screaming guitars. Drums. Slow tempo but nothing sweet or romantic about this music. I love this rendition.

  It’s loud enough no one would ever hear my screams. And we’re going to fuck to it.

  Oliver grasps each of my ankles and pushes my legs apart, forming a wide V. The bed dips with his weight and he crawls over my back. Skin on skin. I love the feel of his warm body against mine.

  Gripping my wrists, he pushes them over my head, and allows his body weight to press against me.

  “You want this? To be fucked from behind while I hold you down? Movement restricted?”

  He can’t imagine how much I want that very thing. “Yesss.”

  “I’ll do it. But I’m going to make you come first.” He releases my wrists and kisses my shoulder. “And I’m going to use my mouth to make you come.”

  My clit clenches, dying for him to lick it.

  “Yes.” It’s the only word I’m able to voice.

  Oliver glides a single finger through my folds. “Already wet.”

  He fingers me from behind, occasionally grazing my clit, but it’s that bundle of nerves just inside my opening that is screaming for his attention.

  “Get on your knees. Head down.”

  I don’t need to hear the words to guess what’s coming but he says them anyway. “I’m going to eat your sweet pussy like this.”

  All those warm fuzzy tingles swirl in my lower abdomen. I call them orgasmic precursors. My body’s way of getting ready to receive whatever Oliver is about to give.

  He kisses a path over my lower back and the tingles spin faster as he inches down. My head mimics the same motion. And maybe that’s why I question the high-pitched ding I hear over Metallica’s screaming guitars.

  He lifts his head to look at me. That’s when I know the sound caught his attention too. “Did you hear that?”

  I’d love to tell him no. I want to say it was nothing, and he should go back to what he was doing but the bell rings again. And again. And again. Total. Mood. Killer.

  Is it really possible I’m this close to having his mouth on me after two weeks only to be interrupted?

  “Who the fuck is showing up at my house after ten on a Sunday night?”

  I lift my head and look back at him over my shoulder. “I really, really, really don’t want you to stop what you’re doing but whoever that is ringing the bell sounds determined to get you to the door.”

  “Motherfucker.” Oliver gets up and pulls on his jeans. No underwear. No shirt. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  I lower my body to the bed and roll to my back, tucking a pillow under my head. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

  “Breath” by Breaking Benjamin comes on next. And then “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd.

  At least the music is good. But I didn’t come here for a concert.

  When “Wish You Were Here” ends, I start to worry. Who has come to see him this late? Is something wrong?

  I get up and slip on his T-shirt before going down the hall so I can hear what’s going on downstairs. It’s a woman’s voice but not Lawrence’s. That much I can tell. And it sounds like Oliver is arguing with her.

  The floor creaks loudly beneath my weight and then a second time when I lift my foot. Fuck. It’s a dead giveaway I’m out of bed and eavesdropping.

  “Max?”

  Yup. Busted.

  “Yeah. Just checking to see if everything is okay.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Should I come down?”

  “Yes, please come the fuck down so you can get the hell out of Oliver’s house,” the woman yells.

  Whoa.

  “Don’t do that.” Oliver’s voice is sharp. A warning. “Come down, Max.”

  I stop at the base of the stairs and peek around the wall to survey the scene before proceeding. Damn. It’s the drunk woman from the restaurant.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Her voice is a slur.

  She was trashed so I’m not shocked that she doesn’t remember seeing me the day she interrupted my business meeting with Oliver at the restaurant. “I’m Adelyn.”

  Her eyes start at my naked thighs and move up my body. “No. I mean who the fuck are you to Oliver, standing there almost naked?”

  I want to say that I’m the woman he was about to fuck until you came along and interrupted. But I don’t.

  She’s staring me down with dilated pupils. Angry, looking like she might jump me at any minute. And that’s okay. Bring it, sister. I will stomp your drunk ass into the floor.

  I give Oliver the maybe-you-should-answer-that-one look.

  “Adelyn and I are seeing each other.”

  “You mean fucking each other.”

  Well, we were trying. I widen my eyes and shrug. “What now?”

  Oliver grasps the woman’s arms and guides her to the couch. “You. Sit.”

  “And you, come with me.” Oliver grasps my hand, leading me to the kitchen, and pulls out a barstool. “Park it.”

  I tuck his T-shirt under my butt before I sit. Doesn’t feel right to put my bare ass on one of his chairs.

  He swivels me to face him and parts my legs so he can stand between them. He grips my outer thighs and squeezes. “Listen. I want you to know I haven’t been fucking around with her.”

  We aren’t a couple. Oliver owes me nothing. “Okay.”

  “I haven’t and I don’t want to.” He leans in so we’re eye to eye. “I. Want. You.”

  Relief floods me as I hear his words. “Good because I want you too. But what do we do about her?”

  “I’m going to put her in a cab and send her home. As soon as she’s gone, you and I are going back to my bed and picking up where my mouth left off.”

  I lean in and nip his bottom lip. “I like that idea a lot.”

  “Me too.” He slides his hands up my le
gs and groans when he discovers I’m without panties. “I swear I’d fuck you right here and now if she weren’t in the next room.”

  I’m tempted to tell him to do it anyway. I doubt she’d remember it. “Come on. Let’s get her out of here so we can continue our exploration.”

  “I’m all for that, baby.”

  I hop off the barstool and follow Oliver into the living room.

  “Well, motherfucker. She’s passed out.”

  Oh great. “What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’m getting her ass out of my house.” He goes over to her and shakes her arm. “Lacey. Lacey. Get up. You can’t stay here.”

  She doesn’t budge. Not even a little. It’s obvious she’s not moving off that couch before morning.

  Oliver sighs and utters, “Fuck me,” beneath his breath. “Would it be a dick move if I asked you to go upstairs with me and pretend she isn’t down here?”

  I look at the blond cockblock stretched out on the sofa. “You could ask, but honestly, being in the same house with a woman you used to fuck is a turnoff.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “We’re gonna need to give this a try some other time.”

  “Can you come over after work tomorrow night?”

  It’s a no-go. “Probably not. I have an event tomorrow night. It’s small but I don’t think I’ll be done until late.”

  “Tuesday night then?”

  Another no-go. “My parents will be here. They aren’t leaving until Saturday so the whole week is a bust.” And then your surprise birthday party is that night.

  “I’m tied up Saturday. Some band that Lawrence loves is playing and she insisted I go with her. Maybe we can score another ticket so you can go with us.”

  Sorry, Thorn. I’ll be tied up making sure everything is lined up for your party. “I’m sure I’ll be exhausted from my parents’ visit. Five days with them will be enough to kill me. I should probably plan on hanging out to relax at my place.”

  “That means we have to wait until next Sunday. That’s a fucking week. Explain to me how I’m supposed to wait that long to have you.”

  I love hearing him say he’s dying to have me. Makes me feel confident about going into this. “I don’t know. You just do.”