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

by Cates, Georgia

  * * *

  The hairdresser applies a little pomade throughout the top of Kit’s hair and makes it spike at the crown. “What do you think?”

  Kit inhales deeply and releases her breath slowly. She smiles when she reaches up to touch her short locks but her pleasant expression doesn’t mask the sadness in her eyes. “I like it.”

  I don’t know Kit so I can’t tell if she really does, or she’s just saying that.

  “It’s spunky. I love it.”

  “Well, I have always been a little spunky, so I guess it fits me.”

  We leave the salon and she pulls down the sun visor and inspects her hair in the mirror. “I’m sixty-two years old. You’d think I’d be over caring so much about my appearance.”

  “A woman should always care about her appearance, no matter her age.”

  “Gabe likes my hair long. That’s why I’ve never cut it above my chin.”

  Gabe and Kit have been married a long time. It’s sweet that she still wants him to find her attractive.

  “My dad liked my mom’s hair long too, but I think he prefers it short now.”

  “How old is your mom?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “Thirty-eight? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  She chuckles. “Well, I guess Porter is a cradle robber. How old did that make you when you met him?”

  “I was sixteen.”

  “And he was twenty-five. That shit-ass wasn’t robbing the cradle back then, was he?”

  I love hearing her call him shit-ass. “Absolutely not. I had a huge crush on him, but that’s as far as it went.”

  “You’ve liked Porter for a long time.”

  “Five years.” Almost a quarter of my life.

  “He looks happy with you. I’m glad you’re back in his life.”

  “Me too.”

  “He said you were an intern. What does that mean exactly?”

  “I’m only working at Iron City for three months.”

  “Well, I don’t guess you have to be Porter’s employee in order to continue your relationship.”

  No. But I do have to be in his life. And I won’t be after September.

  No need to keep the truth from Kit. “I’m moving to Texas after my internship ends at Iron City.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m sure Porter is too. I can tell that he likes you. A lot.”

  “I like him too. A little more every day.”

  “Texas isn’t going anywhere. Maybe you should stay in Birmingham and see what happens.”

  “Porter hasn’t expressed an interest in me staying.”

  “It’s not September yet.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Staying. Is that something I’d consider? Giving up the life and plans I’ve made with my best friends for the guy I’ve been sleeping with? For the guy I’m falling in love with.

  I’m not sure.

  But my gut tells me I’ll be heartbroken if he lets me walk away.

  Kit closes the visor. “Well, are we ready to see everyone’s reaction to this hair?”

  “I know I am.”

  Porter wasn’t happy about his mom’s decision to cut her hair, but that’s because he doesn’t comprehend what’s going to happen in the upcoming weeks. That’s something he and I need to talk about, so he’ll know what to expect. Especially since he won’t be there with his mom. I think it’ll help him feel better connected if he has an understanding of what she’s facing.

  Frankie: We’re on the way home. It’s short but she’s ok w/ it.

  Porter: Did she cry when they cut it off?

  Frankie: She looked sad, but she didn’t cry.

  Frankie: Don’t worry. She’s going to be ok.

  Frankie: And you’re going to be ok.

  Frankie: Don’t act sad when you see it. Even if you are.

  Frankie: She needs to see you be ok with it.

  Frankie: It’ll be an easier transition for her if you seem all right with the change.

  Porter: I can do that for her.

  Frankie: I know you can. XO

  I feel Kit’s apprehension when we enter the house. Even if I couldn’t sense it, her uneasiness becomes tangible when she takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

  “No worries. They’re going to love it.”

  “And if they don’t, it’s going to be gone soon enough anyway.”

  I’m a bit on edge myself. I did what I could to prepare Porter but seeing his mom for the first time in his entire life without her long hair is going to be a shock for him.

  I went to the salon with my mom, and I remember that moment when they spun her around in the chair. Can’t lie. It was when my brain registered that my mom had cancer, and it was real and it was happening. No more denial.

  Gabe. I don’t know him at all. I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing his wife’s hair gone, but I hope he has the same grace my dad had.

  Porter and Gabe are in the living room watching television. “Well…” Kit touches her hair as they turn to look at her. “It’s gone.”

  The lines that were on Porter’s forehead earlier are gone. And I know he’s going to be okay. “I like it.”

  Gabe holds out his arms. “Come here.”

  Kit goes to him, and he pulls her onto his lap. He puts his mouth to her ear and whispers something that brings a huge smile to her face. “Gabe Beckman…”

  I guess that means he likes it.

  Porter gets up and tugs on my hand, my cue to follow him to his bedroom. “They look like they need a minute. Could I talk you into taking a ride with me on the four-wheeler?”

  My family rides four-wheelers all the time. “Sure.”

  “We should probably put on old clothes. I’ve been known to hit a mudhole or two.”

  “I didn’t bring anything old.”

  “You can put on something of mine.”

  I look like a freaking homeless person when we walk out the door. “I hope we don’t run into anybody. They’ll offer to take me down to the local soup kitchen.”

  “You look fine. But doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not going to see anyone where we’re going.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Into the woods.”

  I put on the helmet Porter gives me and climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Better hold on tightly. I like it rough.”

  “I’ve ridden with my brothers. You don’t scare me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Porter is a fucking speed demon. A daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. He hit every mudhole he saw and jumped every hill in sight. My brothers have nothing on his ass.

  He stops the four-wheeler and turns off the engine. “I think this will be just fine.”

  “For what?”

  He chuckles. “Checking you for ticks. Come sit in front of me.”

  I put my foot on the ground and swing my leg over to swap places with Porter.

  “No. Sit the other way so you’re facing me.”

  Oh. I see where he’s going with this. “You want to make out?”

  “I want to do way more than make out.”

  For real? He wants to fuck out here in the woods on this four-wheeler? “You must truly think you don’t have a shot with me later tonight.”

  “I could tell that you didn’t feel comfortable doing it in my parents’ house last night.”

  “It’s just a little weird to me. Feels disrespectful because I don’t know them at all.”

  “Got it. It’s okay. But I’m really horny. There’s no way I can hold out until Sunday night.”

  “I won’t make you hold out.” I push down the shorts and panties I’m wearing. “I’m not even going to make you work for it. You can just fuck me. Right here. Right now.”

  “Will you bend over and let me have it from behind?”

  The boy loves getting it from behind. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He comes o
ff the four-wheeler and walks around so he’s standing behind me. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the side of my neck. “You are the best girlfriend ever.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that because I’m letting you bend me over a four-wheeler in the middle of the woods.”

  One of his hands slides between my legs and moves back and forth. “I’m not kidding. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you.”

  He pulls me against him and my back presses against his front. His erection pokes against my ass. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. All the fucking time. I stay hard for you.”

  He pushes my hair away from my neck and kisses that sensitive spot in the bend of my shoulder. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. No fucking lie. It’s unreal how much I want you.”

  Those words. His mouth against my skin. His erection pressed against me. All of it has me dripping wet for him. “No more than I want you.”

  His fingers curl around my mound and the tips dip into the slick center. “You’re so fucking wet. Soaking.”

  “I only get wet for you.”

  He slides a finger through my slickness and back up once in a slow, torturous stroke. My hips have a mind of their own as they rock against his hand, which simultaneously makes my ass rub against his cock.

  He stops sliding his finger up and down and rubs my clit—what the girls and I call a slut button—in a circular motion. Seriously one of the best sensations in the world.

  “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t ever stop doing that.”

  His fingers curl and move in a jerky side-to-side motion. He’s rubbing my clit and that needy spot just inside my entrance. “Oh God. Keep doing that. I’m so close.”

  He squeezes me tightly and dry humps his cock so hard against my ass that my feet shove forward on the ground with every thrust. The only thing keeping me sort of in place is my arms locked on the four-wheeler.

  “Ohh… Porter… ohh.”

  A familiar warm twitch pulsates between my legs. And then it happens a second time and a third. The rhythmic contractions happen again and again, pushing me over the edge into a world of pleasure I’ve only known with him.

  “I can’t go another minute without having you. I need to be inside you. Now.”

  I feel him working on his jeans and then the tip of his cock is at my entrance from behind. “Lean over and put your hands on the seat and tilt your ass up so I can get inside you.”

  He rubs the tip of his dick through my wet center and then slides inside, balls deep. “Fuck. I swear you’re still as tight as you were when I took your virginity.”

  He pulls out almost all the way and then thrusts his cock in so hard his balls slap against me. He begins slowly, increasing his pace until he’s full speed with me grinding against him, matching his every stroke.

  I push against him with every thrust. He’s so deep that it feels like he’s pounding my womb. But I still want more.

  His hand moves around and grips my hip when he thrusts one last time, filling me with his seed.

  “Fuck, Frankie,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “That was so good, baby.”

  He relaxes and his hand comes up to my face to grip my chin, turning it so he can kiss the corner of my mouth. “You are mine. Say it.”

  No two ways about it. Porter Beckman owns a little more of me every day. “I am yours.”

  “Damn right, you are.”

  He pushes up the T-shirt—that fits me like a dress—and kisses the curvature of my back. “You make sex in the woods hot.”

  His cock slides out and cum runs down my legs. “Sex in the woods is messy.”

  He chuckles and takes off his T-shirt to wipe my inner thighs. “I guess it’s my duty to give up my shirt for my princess.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” I pull on my panties and shorts. “Are we going back to the house?”

  “Yeah. I got what I came after.”

  “I figured as much.”

  He pulls me against him and kisses my mouth. “I want to tell you something before we go back.”

  “Okay.”

  “What you did for my mom—helping her make the decision about her hair and going to the salon with her…” Porter’s eyes search mine for a moment before he speaks again. “That means the world to me. You mean the world to me.”

  “You mean the world to me too.”

  He puts his arms around me and squeezes tightly. “I like where this is going. Where we’re going.”

  “Me too.”

  We are changing. Growing. Progressing. I feel it.

  This is becoming more.

  17

  Porter Beckman

  It’s five in the morning when I arrive at the Dawson residence. It’s still dark, so they’ve turned on the exterior lights for me. I smile when I recall pulling Frankie around to the side of the house for our first kiss. That was only a month ago. So much has happened since then. It’s like our relationship is on hyperspeed.

  Maybe it’s because we know she’s leaving in six weeks. Maybe it’s because we spend so much time together. Maybe it’s because we’re perfect for one another and meant to be together.

  I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Never cared more about another person’s happiness than my own. Never felt sick to my stomach at the thought of losing a woman.

  I’m done falling. I’m there.

  I love Frances Ameline Dawson.

  My porno princess.

  Scott meets me at the front door, and we shake hands. “Come in. Frankie will be right out.”

  Mrs. Dawson comes into the living room. “Porter, you remember my wife, Tara?”

  I nod. “I do, but it’s been a while. Good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you as well.”

  Tara Dawson is a stunning woman. I didn’t realize how much Frankie looks like her mother until this moment.

  “Scott and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Frankie. The internship. The training. And especially this trip to the graphic design expo. It’s all so generous of you.”

  Hearing Tara and Scott’s gratitude makes me feel like shit. Like I’ve been taking advantage of their daughter. Using her for sex.

  But that’s not the case. It can’t be when I love her.

  “I’ve been very impressed with Frankie. She’s a talented designer. I’m lucky to have her at Iron City.”

  I notice Tara’s eyes have left my face, and she’s studying my left bicep. “I’ve seen that before.”

  “It’s Frankie’s design.” Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “You had Frankie’s design tattooed on your arm?”

  “I did; the design was amazing. I knew I had to have it done the moment I saw her drawing.”

  Frankie comes into the living room, rolling a suitcase behind her. Perfect timing so Mrs. Dawson can’t quiz me further. “I’m all set.”

  I go to her and take her bag. “I’ve got this, ba…”

  Fuck.

  Frankie’s eyes nearly bug out of their sockets after my partial slipup. Fingers fucking crossed that Tara and Scott didn’t catch on to me halfway calling her baby.

  “Call us when you get there, so we’ll know you made it safely.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m putting my little girl’s safety in your hands, Porter. Take care of her.”

  I shake Scott’s hand. “You know I will.”

  Frankie hugs her parents, and the two of them stand in the doorway watching us drive away. “I may have fucked up.”

  “You think so, ba…?”

  Well, there’s that too. “I’m not talking about that. Your mom recognized my tattoo from your sketchbook. I told her it was your design and she had a weird look on her face. I think she suspects.”

  “Well, if she does, she does. I’m twenty-one so there’s not a lot she can say. I mean, she had three kids by the time she was my age.”

  “Do you think she’ll say anything to Sc
ott?”

  “I don’t think so. She wouldn’t want Daddy to have a problem with his boss, especially if there was no basis behind it.”

  Frankie unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the seat so she’s sitting beside me. She fastens the lap belt around her waist and takes my hand in hers. “I don’t want to think about what-ifs on this trip. I only want to think about us and how much fun we’re going to have together.”

  “I like that plan.”

  We do the airport shuffle and board our flight. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in first class. Hell, I can’t believe I’m flying at all.”

  “How have you managed to never fly?”

  “My parents have three kids. Two of them were holy terrors. Even if they’d had the money, there was no way they were going to put us on a plane to go anywhere. The boys probably would have taken the plane down.”

  “You talk about your brothers like they’re awful.”

  “They were, Porter. It was bad. People think twins are so cute but they just don’t know what kind of hell they can raise.”

  The attendant brings us the mimosas we ordered. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I taste the drink and find that she didn’t skimp on the champagne. “Good, right?”

  “I like it.”

  “So you’d freak out if you got pregnant with twins?”

  Frankie grimaces. “I wouldn’t get done crying if they told me there were two in there.”

  “Wouldn’t twins be hereditary since your mom had them?”

  “Identical twins are not hereditary—only fraternal twins run in families—so I shouldn’t have any greater chance at having twins than any other woman. Thank God for that.”

  “Do you want children?”

  “I do, but not until I’m married to the man I’m going to be with for the rest of my life, and we’re financially stable. I want what your parents have. They did it the right way.”

  “They were married years before they started having kids. Do you want to wait until you’re thirty to have your first baby?”

  “I’m not stuck on an age as much as I’m stuck on being financially stable.”