Man of the House

by Abigail Graham

  The rise of my sensations is totally different. It comes slowly, peaks more softly, and stretches out into a long, slow burn that turns into a frantic heat as we both writhe together, our bodies intertwined. He grunts hard and pins me down to climax again, filling me once more. I hold him, feeling a strange vulnerability in him as I caress his shoulders and back, urging to give me all he has.

  Alex rolls onto his back, the whole bed undulating from the impact of his huge body landing on it.

  I shimmy over to him and curl up against his side. He brings his arm around me and his hand rests protectively on my hip.

  He falls asleep before I do. I watch his chest rise and fall in steady rhythm for a while before I turn over, scoot my ass up against his side, and use his arm for a pillow. In his sleep, he sweeps me closer in his arm, rolls onto his side, and covers me in his strength. His hand lightly cups my breast in his sleep; the other rests on my stomach.

  When I wake up, Alex stirs from his sleep. I turn and lie on my back and enjoy the feeling of being totally comfortable in my own skin with someone else, something I’ve never really felt before. Even then, Alex looks at me like it’s the first time he’s ever seen me naked, reverently studying my chest, caressing my skin.

  “I need to get ready for work.”

  The alarm will go off in half an hour. I don’t care. I haven’t had such a good sleep in years. I shimmy into my robe and head to the bathroom, take a brisk and cold shower and rush back.

  Alex is already up and walking around the room naked. I stop to admire him. He’s so handsome, it hurts, and his body is so beautiful it makes it hard to breathe. I can’t believe this man makes such rough and tender love to me, with such eagerness.

  He wraps himself in a towel, and when he returns I’m pulling on my underwear. Alex watches me dress, his cock stiffening under his towel.

  “I’m all cleaned up. We can’t go again yet.”

  “I’ll save it for later,” he says.

  He’s aroused by watching me dress. By the time I’m in full uniform, he’s standing at full attention, or at least part of him is. The rest is sitting in a side chair. I want nothing more than to take him in my mouth, but I have to take care of Carrie.

  “Can you control that thing? Carrie needs to get ready for school.”

  “Yeah,” he snorts.

  I meet my daughter in the kitchen. She waits patiently, assuming Alex will cook. When he comes down a few minutes later in sweats and a tank top, I see no sign of his monstrous boner, but he smirks at me anyway.

  “Looking very trim this morning, Officer Maguire.”

  I stick my tongue out at him, and Carrie giggles.

  This. This is good.

  Alex cooks breakfast, humming to himself while he works. Carrie devours her bacon and eggs, then hops up and almost walks to the car without limping.

  When she’s out of sight, Alex gives me an ass grab.

  I hop up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “See you after work,” I say.

  “Later, baby.”

  I pull the door shut and lock it. The walk to the car feels like walking on air. Carrie gives me a sly, knowing look, and it makes me smile even more.

  By the time I’ve dropped her at school and headed to the station to report in, I’m grinning. Bill gives me a side-eye as I head out to collect traffic tickets with not a care in the world.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex

  Wow.

  Phoebe fucks like a wildcat. Tonight, I’m having her on top to see what she can do. I’ve never done that before, just go two straight rounds, but when she laid on her back and spread her legs, all sweaty and glowing from an orgasm I gave her, I couldn’t help myself.

  Sadness tugs in my chest as I watch her drive off with Carrie.

  While she’s gone, I run the laundry machine and move around the house. She’s neglected a lot of basic stuff. Cleaning. I feel absurd stretching those rubber gloves over my big hands, but I scrub down her bathroom and give her lawn one last mow for the year, it probably won’t need it again.

  It’s not a hot day, but I wore a heavy hoodie and got a good sweat going. Ordinarily I’d go for a run after, then hit the weights.

  Today I grab a bottled water from Phoebe’s stash, pop the top off, flop in her hammock, and drain half of it with one long pull. The only thing that could make a late fall afternoon with a cold drink more perfect is to have Phoebe in the hammock with me, just swaying back and forth. Maybe Carrie running around in the yard playing.

  That would be a life.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I swig more water and answer. It’s Lou.

  “I got great news, big guy. I’ve had the lawyers on the judge. This whole community service thing is way out of bounds. They threw around a bunch of lawsuit threats and appeal filings, made that prick judge’s life hell for a couple weeks. You’re off the hook. I practically had to skin my pecker in front of them in penance, but I talked the league into looking the other way and the team is desperate to--”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I said no, Lou. I’ll finish the season with the peewee team.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Alex, you can get back in the game for this season. Need I remind you that if you can play, you are contractually obligated to do so? That’s the whole point of a contract. You’re required to put on your big boy pants and they’re required to pay you the yearly GDP of Venezuela.”

  I sway in the hammock. I look up at the trees. About half the leaves are down. It’s one in the afternoon, and I have to get to the field for practice soon. Phoebe will meet me there with Carrie. I might let her run a bit without her pads if her leg is up to it. Tonight I’ll make them another recipe from my mom’s cookbook that I never get to make. If Phoebe lets me, I’ll read Carrie a story tonight. Then I’ll go into the bedroom and lay on my back and pull Phoebe on my lap and hold her hips so she goes slow as she rides me.

  I’m going to do that over and over again. I never knew how badly I wanted that until I was here, experiencing it. Whatever thrill I get on the field is nothing compared to one look, one soft touch from my lover.

  “I said no. I quit.”

  “You can’t quit! If you quit, you don’t get paid.”

  “I got paid already. I’ve got sixteen million in the bank. I just signed a new contract. If I have to give a couple back, it’s worth it. Put my apartment up for sale. Never mind, give me the realtor’s name and I’ll do it myself. We’re done. You’re fired.”

  “What? What?” he shrieks into the phone. “Do you have any idea what I had to do, you ungrateful prima donna bastard? Your dumb lunk ass would be playing a low rent Magic Mike in a nudie bar if I didn’t get you a fucking career. You think you’re special? I can find ten slabs of beef with more balls than brains on any street corner--”

  “Good, go make one of them play football. It’s over. I quit.”

  I hit the button and hang up on him. Then I toss my phone on the grass, knock back the rest of that water, and lie back to let my head stop thinking. I’ve been working with Eddie on refining the playbook for the kids. I don’t really care if they win, and neither does he, but they care so much. I have a hard time stopping myself from laughing when they bump into each other and flop on the turf.

  This is good. This is life.

  About two, I head inside and shower, put on a polo and khakis, lock up the house, and drive to the field. Eddie is waiting, and the kids are milling around waiting for the stragglers to show up. Carrie and Phoebe are already lounging in the bleachers.

  After practice, I meet them coming down from their seats.

  “I want to play tomorrow,” Carrie announces.

  Phoebe gives me dagger eyes.

  “I need to see you practice a bit first, squirt. I know you’re eager, but you need to be all healed up. Next week we play your uncle’s team again. I want you in that game. We’re
going to win.”

  She beams at the thought of that. Tough kid.

  Phoebe takes her hand, and Carrie offers me the other one. She has to stick it almost straight up, but I take it.

  I feel weird. All… soft. Phoebe changed out of her uniform. She looks gorgeous even in mom-jeans and a hoodie, her natural beauty shining through, brightened by her smile.

  I follow them back to the house. As I start in on dinner, I call Phoebe into the kitchen.

  “Yeah?”

  “Help me. You’re going to learn how to cook proper.”

  She gives me a defiant look, but does as she’s told. I like that. It feels natural. It’s hard not to touch her. I satisfy myself with a light caress on her back here, a kiss on her cheek there. She bristles when I tell her what to do, but almost giggles when I touch my lips to her cheek or give her a light pat on the butt.

  “Lou called me. My agent. He got me out of the community service thing. Said I could go back to football.”

  Phoebe stops kneading the dough. “What?”

  “Yeah. He pulled strings or whatever guys like him do.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I quit. I’m out. I’m staying here.”

  “Alex?” she says, looking genuinely bewildered. “Don’t you want to go home?”

  I look around the little kitchen, then look at her. Hard. Her expression shifts from the scrutiny, her lips pursing just a bit as she buckles under the intensity of my gaze.

  “I am home.”

  An almost dreamy look softens her expression, and she smiles a real, genuine smile. She is so damn beautiful.

  “You’re living with us now?” she says.

  “Yeah. For as long as you want me to.”

  The joy on her face lights up something inside me. I didn’t know I could feel this way anymore. Her hands smear flour on my chest as I embrace her and hold her in my arms. She finally surrenders and hugs me back.

  “I need to finish the dough,” she says, wriggling loose.

  “Yeah, let’s get dinner going.”

  It has to bake, so I have some time to lounge on the couch with Phoebe and Carrie. I want to shelter them both. Phoebe is so tired from work, she almost nods off my shoulder a few times, stirring when Carrie laughs at the television.

  I barely even pay attention to it. I just sit there and savor the feeling of being home, in a real home.

  Yawning, I lift my foot onto the table.

  “Think I can take this off?”

  Phoebe glances down at the ankle monitor.

  “Yeah,” she yawns. “You’re not running away, are you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  She leans down and takes the thing off me, and tosses it on the table.

  “Can you get Grace to stay with Carrie on Friday?” I ask Phoebe.

  “Sure, why not,” she says. “Want to go out?”

  “As long as I’ve got an okay from the judge and all, yeah. Where’s a movie theater near here?”

  “Next town over, South Bridge. They have an Imax. What do you want to see?”

  “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

  She snorts. “Are we going to do this? The whatever you want, I don’t care thing.”

  “It’s a treat for you. Where do you like to eat? We can just do something fun.”

  “Aunt Grace makes me go to bed,” Carrie whines.

  “Yeah, that’s why I have her over here to watch you. If I didn’t, you’d light the house on fire and figure out a way to crash it into the creek.”

  Carrie sticks her tongue out at her mother.

  “Hey,” I say, in warning.

  As we eat, Carrie goes on and on about what she did in school, how they have a lizard in her classroom for a pet, all kinds of things that she just sounds so interested in. I listen to all of it. It mostly passes in one ear and out the other, but her insistence is… cute. Phoebe has been playing the game longer, and keeps her going with questions.

  Once we put Carrie to bed and Phoebe has checked her homework, we go into her bedroom together. She lets her hair down and slips out of her clothes.

  She looks slyly over her shoulder at me. I ask, “What do you usually sleep in?”

  “Huh?”

  “With me, you’ve been sleeping naked. What do you usually wear?”

  She grimaces in embarrassment and produces a ratty, oversized Hello Kitty T-shirt, which she slips into.

  “Sexy, isn’t it?” she says.

  I grab her and pull her onto the bed. “Yes, it is.”

  I strip down to a T-shirt and boxers and climb in the bed with her.

  “Alex, I’m a little, um, sore, I don’t think I can…”

  I reach over her and flick off the light, close my eyes and pull her close. She tenses for a moment, then goes still.

  “I want this, right now,” I tell her. “I want to make love to you a million times, but right now, I just want to fall asleep smelling your hair.”

  Phoebe makes a little noise, half whimper and half something else, and snuggles against me.

  “You’re really staying because you want to.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is this? Are we… I can’t believe this is real.”

  My eyes have adjusted to the dark. Her blue eyes are the brightest thing in the room. How can she think she’s plain? Her dolled up, Holly Homemaker sister is like a candle next to the sun by comparison.

  “I think I’m in love with you,” I confess to her.

  Shock is plain on her face. A smile trembles on her lips, trying to take shape. She hugs me harder and after some shifting, we settle together and sleep pulls me down. It’s an easy sleep with her in my arms.

  “Alex,” she murmurs in the middle of the night, “I love you, too.”

  Something unlocks inside me. I keep her close and swaddle us in her blankets, despite the heat.

  “If I’m not going to play anymore, you don’t have to stay here.”

  I can almost feel her thinking. “You mean move from town.”

  “You don’t have to stay in this place where everybody treats you like a joke.”

  “I don’t really want to quit,” she says. “Alex, I can’t be a happy homemaker in an apron waiting for you to come home or something. That’s not who I am.”

  “I want you to be who you are.”

  “I don’t know who I am,” she whispers.

  “Me, either. But if I’ve ever met anyone who can tell me, it’s you.”

  I contemplate that while Phoebe falls asleep. She tosses and turns a bit, mumbling, clutching me. I only fall asleep again much later and wake with her.

  My days are like dreams. I keep expecting to wake up in a big cold bed in a Philly loft and get ready to leave with the team for a game.

  I don’t. It keeps going. I make dinner for Phoebe and Carrie, and start thinking of them as my girls. I read for Carrie when Phoebe is too tired, help her with her homework, rub Phoebe’s shoulders when they ache.

  When Friday comes, I’m so excited, I can barely contain myself. Grace shows up at the house around two thirty since she knows Phoebe and I plan to get going early for our date.

  “Hey, you,” she says. “My oldest sister wants to murder you.”

  I motion her inside. “Yeah, yeah. Well, her husband is a shithead.”

  Grace giggles. “Yeah, right. You got any of that famous food in here?”

  Phoebe’s sister looks over the leftovers from this week and licks her lips.

  “I almost don’t need to get paid fifty bucks for this.”

  “Watch out for the kid, huh?”

  She snorts.

  “Phoebe tells Carrie to watch out for me, but whatever. You two are going to have a good time, right?”

  “I hope so.”

  “By a good time, I mean sex.”

  “Grace,” I sigh.

  “I think you should get her pregnant. Maybe it would mellow her out and Ca
rrie would have a little brother.”

  “Grace.”

  “Okay, fine. Me, butt, couch.”

  She flops there and waits for Phoebe to get home with Carrie. They roll up half an hour later, and Carrie runs in, her leg now fully healed, and hops on the couch with her aunt to watch cartoons.

  I remember that feeling. Friday. Knowing there’s no homework. Memories come back to me in a tide. I must have felt that a hundred times. Forgot how liberating it can be.

  Phoebe kisses my cheek. “Let’s get ready.”

  It takes longer than I expected, but Phoebe doesn’t usually wear much makeup. She gets dolled up for me, and even puts on heels. We’re not going anywhere fancy. First dinner, and then a screening of Jaws at this theater. Phoebe likes old movies.

  That’s one of a few thousand things about her I’m eager to learn.

  Phoebe ruffles her daughter’s hair and gives Grace a stay-out-of-trouble look, and we leave. We take my car. Phoebe rests her hand on my arm while I drive.

  For the first time since I got stuck here, I cross the town limits. It’s refreshing and liberating all at once like a deep breath from a cool breeze.

  No talking. We just put the windows down, enjoy the air, and savor each other’s company.

  Of course, I’m recognized at the theater. Half the attendants and the kid in the box office stare at me openly. I wonder if that will ever go away. No endorsements, no post-game shows. I’m done. How long will it take before I can go unrecognized? A year, two, three? I don’t care how Lou tried to puff me up to think I’m some kind of legend, once I’m out of the spotlight, some other big lunk will take my spot.

  I’ve seen this movie. I’m pretty sure Phoebe has too, but she looks excited as we walk into the theater with our popcorn and sodas.

  As we sit, she leans over to me.

  “I use to watch this movie with my dad whenever it was on TV.”

  “Why?”

  “Kind of a weird story,” she says, shifting in her seat. “My grandfather died in a car crash. My dad was with mom at a drive-in to see this movie that night. They didn’t find out until they got back.”

  “Why would he want to see it then?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know, but if he was ever flipping channels and it was on, we’d all end up watching it. Well, Hailey hated it, but I’d sit there with Grace and watch, and so would Mom. It seemed to happen in the summer a lot. They always play this movie around the Fourth of July.”