The Duets

by Quinn, Meghan

  I’m hoping I can at least keep him company, because I don’t think I’d be able to keep my distance from him on his birthday, especially after last night.

  “You don’t mind bringing the cake over later?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “And Hardie and Joey will be here?” Stryder nods. “It’s a minor surprise, which hopefully he won’t mind. I just want him to realize how loved he is by everyone.”

  “It’s sweet.” Stryder grows serious. “He’s lucky he has you, Rory.”

  Something passes between Stryder and me—a mutual appreciation for each other and an understanding that what we both want is for Colby to be happy. Even though Stryder can joke around a lot, I see a serious, caring side too.

  Knowing I probably shouldn’t say anything, I still ask, “How come you never moved forward with Ryan? I know she was really interested.”

  Looking at the ground, Stryder pulls on the back of his head, his T-shirt and jeans hugging his body, his thick muscles flexing underneath. He really is gorgeous with his dark features and mesmerizing eyes. I could see why Ryan was so disappointed when he didn’t pursue her.

  “She’s a sweet and gorgeous girl, but I just wasn’t feeling it.”

  “Wasn’t feeling it?” I raise my eyes at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a guy say that about Ryan.”

  He shrugs. “Sometimes your heart is somewhere else.” And he leaves it at that, nodding toward the pool house. “Go get your boy. The fucker is probably already three chapters into his book.”

  Sighing, I take a step forward and give Stryder another hug before taking off toward the pool house. His eyes linger on me. “Thank you for your help, Stryder.”

  “Any time, Rory.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  COLBY

  Twelve years ago . . .

  Peace.

  That’s all I wanted today.

  And I got it.

  Mom and Ted are out, leaving my twelve-year-old self alone in the house. There’s nothing to eat or drink, no birthday cake waiting for me in the fridge, and I might have a black eye that’s hurting more than I’d like, but it’s quiet. I’m surrounded by my planes, have my book in my hands, and a glass of water on my nightstand in the Air Force cup that I got a few years back on my birthday . . . when my mom cared.

  I’m happy.

  I got a call from Gramps earlier, told him Mom and Ted were taking me away for the weekend so I wouldn’t be able to see him. It’s what they told me to tell him so he didn’t see me, didn’t see what Ted did. I was okay with it. I listened to them and did what they said, because I knew Gramps wouldn’t like to hear that he couldn’t see me. Not on this day. Especially not on this day.

  And he wasn’t happy.

  He made me pass the phone to Mom afterward. I went to my room but heard Mom stumbling over her words as I made my way up the stairs. I don’t think Ted will hurt me for a little bit, not since I haven’t seen Gramps in a while, especially with Christmas coming up.

  Christmas never fails me. Gramps has always come, even when Ted said he couldn’t. Gramps might be old, but he still has some pull over the doctor. I’m glad for that.

  I flip the pages of my book, loving the stories about fighter pilots from the past, and take a sip from my water, the blankets on my bed keeping me warm in my perched position on my mattress. Snow falls lightly to the ground outside, coating the ground in white as I try to channel Dad.

  He always loved it when it snowed, especially since Colorado was so off and on with its weather. Known for three hundred days of rays, the sun is almost always shining, so when we get a bout of stormy weather, we try to soak it all in.

  Thump.

  My heart stills, my ears perking up as I slow my breathing. Was that snow falling off the roof or was that . . .

  Footsteps sound through the house, the slamming of cabinet drawers filling the empty house. Oh no. No. Not now. Not today.

  I scan my room, looking at everything I have scattered around. Hopping out of bed, I scurry around my room, stuffing my book away and trying to hide Dad’s tools. My heart’s in my throat, a lump so large I’m having a hard time breathing.

  Footsteps sound closer. Panic paralyzes me. My hands shake, my inability to hide everything fast enough scaring me. There is no way I’ll be able to hide the plane I’ve been working on before he gets here.

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes as the door to my bedroom swings open, slamming into my wall, denting the plaster.

  “Where the fuck is my wallet?” Ted yells. “Did you take it?”

  “What? No.” I shake my head. “I have no idea where it is.”

  He steps forward. “I’m trying to take your mother out to get her mind off this day, and I just can’t find it. Seems coincidental, don’t you think, since your mom got yelled at by your grandpa today? Did you hide it to get back at her?”

  I shake my head, trying to speak past the lump in my throat. Please don’t see my plane. Please don’t see my plane. “No, sir. I didn’t take it. Want me to help you look for it?” I step forward to help him just as he cocks his arm back. I flinch waiting for the blow . . . but it doesn’t come.

  Looking at him, his gaze is focused at my window, where you can see one side of the Eaglet model plane my dad got me. I’ve been putting new colors on it to give it a fresh look.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “Th-that’s my plane Dad got me a few years ago.”

  “How come I’ve never seen it?”

  Stuttering, working my way backward to protect it, I say, “I put it away. I know you don’t like clutter.”

  “Why is it out now?”

  I twist my hands together. “I thought since you and Mom were gone, and it’s my birthday, that maybe I could work on it.”

  Ted shakes his head, walking toward it. “You didn’t get permission to work on this piece of crap. You need to ask for permission, Colby. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “I . . . I . . .” He puts his hand on the plane, my heart lurching in my chest. “Please don’t hurt it, Ted.” A tear slips down my cheek, but I swipe it away quickly.

  “Don’t hurt your plane?” A maniacal smirk crosses over his face. “But you disobeyed me, don’t you think you need to be punished for that?”

  “It’s my birthday,” I say, praying for some kind of reprieve from this tyrant. I hate this man. I want my dad back.

  “That means shit to me. Your mom told me I can’t hit you anymore, so maybe I’ll take it out on your planes.”

  I step forward, desperation in my voice. “Hit me. I don’t care. Hit me all you want. Please just don’t touch my plane. It’s from Dad, Ted. Please.”

  He nods, and for a second I think he’ll listen to me. Until he picks up the wing of the plane and splits it in half over his knee, tossing the two pieces in front of me, the torn and splintered balsa wood falling to the floor . . . my heart with it.

  “Happy Birthday.” With that, he slams my door just as Mom yells down the hall.

  “Found your wallet, Ted. It was in your jacket.”

  I crumple to the floor and hold the wing to my chest, tears falling from my eyes.

  My plane.

  Broken.

  Unable to breathe, I lie on the floor, clutching the plane, tears clouding my eyes. I want to escape, to never have to live this day again. My birthday. The day my dad died, and the day Ted took away the one thing that reminded me of the good times with my dad.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  COLBY

  Propped up in bed, two pillows between my back and the headboard, I hold my book in front of me. I didn’t bother to get dressed for the day after my shower besides a pair of boxer briefs, to be respectful of the fact I’m in someone else’s house.

  The sun is shining through the white curtains covering the French doors of the pool house, granting me privacy and sunlight at the same time.

  An empty protein bar wrapper
is next to me with a bottle of water.

  Simple.

  Just the way I like it.

  The book I read every year on my birthday—for I don’t know how long—is tattered on the ends, well worn, but by no means ready to fall apart. It still has plenty more birthdays left in it.

  Knock, knock.

  Confused, I look to the door. Stryder knows my routine. He knows I don’t celebrate this day, so why is he bothering me . . . and why is he knocking?

  “Come in,” I call out, not bothering to get up. I turn back to my book.

  The door parts open and the minute her scent hits me, my eyes shoot up to find Rory standing in the pool house, bag at her side, wearing black leggings, a matching black long-sleeved shirt, her hair curled and . . . red lipstick painted across her lips.

  “Rory?” I sit up and set my book to the side. “What are you doing here?”

  Shutting the door and setting her bag down on the floor, she smiles at me, walking toward the bed. I've never seen anything so beautiful. I needed this. Her. “I came to wish you a happy birthday.”

  Climbing into bed with me, she pushes me back against the pillows, and sits on my lap. I place my hands on her hips, fucking happy to see her. “You didn’t have to come here.” I stroke her cheek. “I don’t celebrate my birthday. I lie low on this day.”

  “Stryder told me the same thing, and we don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to, but I don’t want you to be alone. I have the whole day off, and I want to be with you.”

  I search her eyes, kind and loving, and I can feel myself slipping, falling for this girl. I didn’t know how much I wanted her until she showed up, and now I don’t want her to leave. Because even though it’s my tradition to be by myself, Rory is different. I crave her presence, right here in my bed, snuggled up next to me.

  “Is this okay?” she asks, looking nervous.

  I run the pad of my thumb over her lip, the red lipstick staying put. “This is perfect. Thank you. You’re the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

  Smiling brightly, she wiggles on top of me, waking my dick. Scanning my body, she looks me up and down, her eyes lingering on my abs. “You’re even more handsome in person.” Her hands travel down my chest along with her body.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching how she grabs the sheets around my waist and pulls them down, revealing the obvious bulge in my boxer briefs.

  “Starting this birthday off right with one of your fantasies.” Getting up from the bed, she snags the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it to the side. She does the same with her pants, leaving her in matching red lingerie. Unlike the thong she wore last night, today she’s wearing a see-through G-string covered in a flower. And it reveals a lot. Her bra, fuck, the damn thing is see-through besides a few strategically placed flowers over her nipples.

  So. Fucking. Gorgeous. As she climbs onto the bed, my dick grows hard and thick with each move she makes toward me. My aroused state starts to blur my vision, everything around us fading to black as I focus on Rory and Rory alone.

  She gently runs her hands up my thighs until she reaches the waistband of my boxer briefs. My cock is so fucking hard, begging to be touched. Licking those luscious red lips, Rory takes no time in stripping me down, revealing my length, her hair tickling my thighs as she takes me all in, her eyes wide, yet satisfied.

  “You’re huge, Colby.” She looks up at me, pure lust flowing through her. With eyes locked on mine, she reaches out and then holds my cock in her hand. A hiss escapes past my lips, the feeling of her hand wrapped around me so incredible.

  It’s been a good amount of time since I’ve been intimate with anyone, so I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to be touched, to have a woman between my legs. But fuck, it’s Rory, and it’s that much better. And any fantasy I had about her has been completely overshadowed. She’s . . . magnificent. So fucking hot. Seeing her bent over my cock . . . God. Nothing comes close. Not even last night when I watched her lose herself to her orgasm. Heard every uneven breath. Heard every moan. Watched her eyes dilate with desire. Like they are now. I came then while watching her, and then two times more seeing the unforgettable vision of her coming over and over again.

  Bending forward, her tongue peeks out, and I hold my breath as she licks the very tip of me. My head falls back against the pillows, my body melting into the mattress beneath me.

  “Fuck . . .” I breathe out just as her mouth pulls me in, hot and wet, taking me all the way to the back of her throat and pulling back up, her teeth barely grazing my skin, adding another sensation.

  “Rory, you don’t have to—”

  Her other hand finds my balls, where she takes them in her palm and gently rolls them with her fingers.

  Fucking magic.

  Catching my breath, I sit up on my elbows and watch as those perfect red lips slide up and down my cock—every fantasy of her mouth coming true. While she’s intent on what she’s doing, I keep my gaze trained on her, each stroke up and down my cock weakening me, melting me, until I feel like I’m simply a useless body going along for the ride.

  Rolling my balls, she then presses her finger to a spot just below them, rubbing and caressing. My eyes shoot open and my dick goes straight into her mouth. My balls tighten so goddamn fast I can feel my orgasm about to rip through me.

  “Fu . . . fuck, Rory. What the—” She repeats the caress, tearing the words from my lips as her tongue runs up the length of the underside of my cock, stopping just at the tip to my F-spot. Pausing for a second, she lightly kisses it before flicking her tongue over the sensitive area, her hand gripping my cock, the other rolling my balls and pressing a finger right below them.

  “Rory, baby, I’m going to come. I can’t, fuck, I can’t . . . goddamn it,” I moan, my hands gripping the sheets below me as her tongue brings me to orgasm. Her hand tightens around the base, her tongue relentlessly licks the tip, spurt after spurt coming out of me. My vision blacks out, my body rolls with my orgasm as it rips through me, paralyzing every single limb.

  I let out a long, heavy breath as Rory walks to the bathroom. I hear the distant sound of the water running and then I feel a warm towel press against my skin, wiping me clean. When she’s done, she comes back to the bed, presses her half-naked body against mine. Her head finds its spot in the crook of my shoulder, her hand moves to my chest, her fingers light, dancing across my skin. Reaching up, she places a gentle kiss against my jaw and whispers, “Happy birthday, handsome.”

  It’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep, sucked into eternal bliss, more content than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s been so long since I’ve known goodness on this day, but this girl—my girl—has brought something never experienced, especially on my birthday. Peace.

  * * *

  “Mmm, are you awake?” I ask. Rory’s ass is pressed against my crotch, the lace rubbing against my length. I don’t know when we switched positions, but cuddling her has never felt so damn right, like she was meant to be in my arms.

  “I am,” she answers sleepily, turning in my arms so she’s facing me, her eyes lazy, but alert. “How are you doing?”

  I can’t contain the smile that spreads across my face. “Fucking awesome.”

  She chuckles and lightly splays her fingers over my bare chest. “You passed out pretty quickly.”

  “You sucked all the energy from my body.” Wincing from my choice of words. “I’ve never experienced it like that before. You made me black out.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Then I accomplished my goal.” Bringing her lips to mine, she lightly kisses me, her mouth so soft. “Last night you gave me such an amazing orgasm with only your voice, and I wanted to return the favor.”

  I place my hand on her hip, toying with the fabric of her G-string, twisting it with my fingers. “Last night was really fucking sexy.”

  “Do you know what was sexy?” Her eyelashes flutter. “The way you spoke to me, so commanding. It was lik
e it triggered something inside me I’ve never experienced before, like I needed the control taken away from me. I came really hard.”

  Shit, talk about a way to get my dick hard in two seconds.

  Taking a moment, she pauses her fingers over my collarbone and asks, “Did you masturbate when you hung up?”

  There is no hiding it. I nod. “In the shower; the image of you coming on repeat in my head.” I run my fingers up her side. “The way your body arched off the bed, the way your mouth parted open in disbelief, the way your hand was buried so damn deep beneath your thong. Fuck, Rory, I’m getting hard now just thinking about it.”

  She starts to move her hand south until she reaches the divots in my stomach, playing with my lower abs, just above where my dick is yearning for her touch again. Wanting to tease her just as much, I slip down the strap of her bra so it hangs loosely over her arm and trace light circles above the swell of her breast.

  “How hard?” She rubs her legs together and I wonder if she’s wet. If she’s just as turned on as I am from her touch.

  “Find out for yourself,” I say, my voice dropping low.

  Her skin breaks out in goose bumps, her eyes flutter, and her body moves closer to mine as her hand travels those last few inches to the tip of my cock, the pads passing over the crown.

  “God, Colby.” She moves her hand farther down, gripping the base. I suck in a sharp breath and let her stroke me for a few passes, before I stop her and spin her to face away from me.

  She goes to protest, when with one hand, I snap her bra open and bring my hand to the front of her where I pull on the center, taking it off completely. I bring her close to my body by her stomach, her ass matched up against my erection, the sway of her breasts grazing my hand.

  Moving her hair to the side with my nose, I work my lips up and down the side of her neck.

  “Ohhh . . .” she moans, giving me more access, tilting her head to the side, her ass grinding along my cock.