Three Little Words (#dirtysexygeeks Book 4)

by Melissa Blue

  “How often did you fail?”

  Her gaze swung up to him and she laughed. It sounded bitter. “Too many times.”

  He waited to see if she’d add more. When she didn’t, he thought about the next question. It would hit her in two ways. Neither would be good, but he couldn’t be the only one exposing all his vulnerabilities.

  “Then why do you keep trying when he’s never going to be happy with who you are?”

  She sucked in a breath like he’d punched her in the stomach. “It’s not like that.”

  “What is it like?”

  She snatched up the parmesan. “What does it matter? It’s my problem.”

  He didn’t have an answer for that. If the man wanted nothing to do with his daughter because she happened to get pregnant before marriage, then that meant her father wouldn’t be in Junior’s life either. The man wasn’t his problem.

  Unless he considered the reason Iris wouldn’t forgive him had everything to do with Porter reminded her of her father.

  That wouldn't change overnight, so Porter let it drop. He turned back to the stove. Minutes later, the faucet turned on. She was cleaning her bowl. The salad she’d made for him remained untouched.

  “The awful truth?” Iris said, “I don’t think of him and ache at the loss of him in my life. What does that say about me? My mother was as militant in some of her views but I never felt...small.”

  His heart ached to hear that. He wanted to smash his fist into her father’s face. He bit back what he really wanted to say in reply to her confession. “Then maybe it’s a good thing you’ll have some time away from the relationship. If he makes you feel small.”

  “You...seem angry.”

  Angry? That was a nice word for the heat searing through his gut. Iris wasn’t stupid. Had any random man—no, fuck that. When he had treated his sister like shit she ripped into him without blinking. She had to see how her father treated her. Or was she telling herself lies in order to ignore the truth? He knew that ugly road. He’d trudged it for years. He had a temper because he was just made that way. His father hadn’t left his mark when he walked away from the family.

  Porter was fine.

  He was the only one out of the group of his friends who didn’t carry heavy ass baggage. Having a fucked up parent wasn’t original.

  He wasn’t broken.

  But only broken men made the women they loved feel small. He’d done that to Ashley. Once. Didn’t matter he regretted it or apologized. He’d done it. People could look at him and not know how fucked up he was.

  He lowered the fire under the pasta. “Tomorrow, I will be gone until early afternoon.” He didn’t add an explanation. “I’ll make sure everything you need is in reach. Call Victor if you need a ride.”

  “I’ll keep myself busy. I might even feed myself for the first time in twenty-four hours.”

  He picked up the pot and took it over to the sink. He pulled out the drainer and...shit. He tried to breathe. He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t hers. He wouldn’t do anything stupid, either. He couldn’t.

  But the week wouldn’t go by fast enough.

  Damon + Bonnie

  Porter was going to lose his shit, but Iris smiled at her nieces who were tearing up his tidy living room. Coloring books covered the floor. Along with Barbies, there was one of those plastic tea sets the girls always somehow found actual water to put in the cups. Her sister Jessie sprawled on the couch next to her.

  Iris held up her cube. “What next?”

  “Again, you twist the bottom, make the white square face away from you, and then you bring it back.”

  The first time her sister had said that the words had made zero sense. Iris frowned at the cube in her hand. Now it only made sense when her sister showed her. The trick even made sense when she watched at least three twenty-minute-long videos.

  But now, staring down at the cube, she had no clue what to do. She put her tongue between her teeth and turned the bottom row.

  “Now bring down the side where you want it to go.”

  She did. “Slide it back, right?”

  “Yes!”

  Iris pulled the right row up and voila! “That only took three hours. Now I just have to do the rest.”

  Jessie shrugged. “It took me two days to solve my first cube and then I never touched one again. I remember all the steps though.”

  “Why do people find this fun?”

  “No idea.” Jessie patted her thigh. “Spill the beans. What’s going on with you and Porter?”

  “Nothing.” The same thing she had told Ashley and Eva, repeatedly, before the women had left to run some errands on this lazy Saturday.

  “I’m supposed to believe,” Jessie said, “a guy you had a one-night stand with, and whose child you’re now carrying, moved you into his house and there’s nothing going on?”

  One of the girls said, “What’s a one-night stand?”

  “A lamp that only works one night,” Jessie replied without looking away from Iris.

  Her sister had always done that with the girls. This was the first time Iris really took note. “Is that what I have to look forward?”

  “Yes and it’ll be fulfilling.”

  She opened her mouth to say something smart when the front door opened. She knew what Porter would find. Two women on the couch. One with her feet tucked under her, the other one sitting cross-legged. Yeah, and four kids massacring his neat space. Even though she knew she was fine, a part of her still braced for his reaction.

  His step slowed. He took in the kids, the crayons and the half-empty juice boxes. Finally he looked at her sister.

  He smiled. “Jessie, right?”

  “And out of the two of us, I’m the cool one.” Jessie turned slightly and offered her hand. “Nice to finally meet the guy who knocked-up my perfect sister.”

  “What’s knocked up?” came from the girl hive.

  Jessie, without blinking, said, “When you hit your knee on a table.”

  Porter laughed, closing the space between them to take her sister’s hand. “I see thinking on your feet runs in the family. Nice to meet you, too.”

  And finally he looked at Iris. His gaze fell on the cube, and she’d swear his smolder singed her eyebrows. “Who are you trying to impress with that?”

  “No one yet. I was bored before my sister got here, decided to try my hand at it. I suck at it.”

  “Takes time and practice. You’ll get it.” He glanced around. “Where’s Ashley?”

  “She had to go.”

  “And I should too,” Jessie said. “Girls, let’s get our stuff and hit Mickey D’s.”

  That worked like a charm. Her nieces stopped their tea party in its tracks to clean up. More water spilled on the carpet. She winced. She uncrossed her legs to get a towel as her sister hurried over to the kids to do whatever damage control she could.

  He said nothing.

  Her shoulders tensed. He’d told her she was welcomed in his home, to make it hers. At her house, she didn’t mind a mess. Her nieces could spill things, be loud and unruly and imperfect. She let them be kids while they still could.

  By the time she came back with a towel from the downstairs bathroom, Jessie stood at the door with the kids. Her eyes were wide. She mouthed “sorry.” Iris forced herself to smile and nod like it was nothing.

  But how the hell would she know?

  She didn’t look in his direction. She wiped down the wet spots as best she could. The water would leave patches of the carpet stiff, but at least there would be no stains.

  “Iris,” he said.

  Her shoulders jerked up. “It’s just water. The carpet should be fine.” She plucked up a broken crayon and a stray wrapper.

  “Iris,” he said in a harder voice.

  She turned her head. His hands were fists at his side. “Did your father used to get mad about shit like this?”

  She could lie, but he’d know. She could see the truth in his eyes. He only asked for her to confirm it.
“After mom he had to run the household.”

  He stopped looking at her. “It’s water. I don’t care about the mess.”

  She broke the stare and folded the towel. She hadn’t noticed how hard and fast her heart had been beating waiting for him to explode. That kind of man lurked inside him, and Iris was waiting for him to trot that Porter out. The more she cared about him, the more she feared that man was just waiting for her to drop her guard.

  Nothing but silence filled the room. When she was done, she turned to see his face. He was halfway up the stairs, his expression hard.

  Iris closed her eyes and tried to relax. If not for herself, for the baby. She had to make things better for him, if no one else.

  Jack Harkness + Missy

  By the end of the week they fallen into a rhythm. In the morning, Porter would be up before her, listening for the sounds of her getting ready for the day. She was loud. Bathroom cabinets banged shut. She’d sing in the shower and hum to herself as she did her hair.

  She was always surprised he was already up and waiting to bring her downstairs. A smile would light in her eyes and she’d apologize if her singing had woken him up. He wouldn’t tell her she often sounded like a cat in heat being beat with a wet sock. Her off-key singing made her happy, and it made him happy. Because he knew, finally knew, the fact she was vibrant and witty happened despite her father. The man had tried to make her small and she defied him.

  After breakfast, she’d wander over to the couch and try to defeat the Rubik for an hour before giving up to find something to binge-watch. At least once a day, she’d watch Bob’s Burgers. He would work with the office door open to hear her laugh, and react to whatever the characters were doing.

  Lunch. More work. She’d nap. Dinner. Then they’d work on Junior’s room. It now had shelves and soft books babies could chew and drool on. Of course, he’d bought a rocking chair—a Cadillac of rocking chairs. It could warm bottles or keep beers cold. The damn thing was perfect.

  Their rhythm was easy, if he didn’t look directly at it. If he did he’d notice the line of tension that never let her fully relax her shoulders. He’d see how they never touched on purpose. They only talked about inane shit but fathers were never mentioned. She didn’t broach the subject of what happened next with the baby.

  Maybe he didn’t look directly at it because ignoring the fact she hadn’t thought about maternity leave or daycare or even getting a space in her apartment ready for Junior…

  He didn’t look directly at it.

  She was barely six and a half months. There was more time behind them than in front of them.

  He didn’t know what to do with that or if he should do anything. He was a planner, the one who liked all his ducks in a row well ahead of time. Her lack of a plan made him edgy, but he kept his mouth shut.

  He even bit his tongue when she asked him to stay in the waiting room instead of coming in with her for the checkup. He knew they would do an ultrasound and other tests to make sure both Iris and Junior were okay after the bleeding incident.

  He sat in the waiting room, doing his best not to be a dick. When she sent him a text saying she was fine, and she’d take an Uber home and pick up her car from his house later, he left. He left because he’d been tempted to push his way to the backroom and...Fuck if he knew. Lose his temper? Nothing good that’s for sure. He got into his car and white-knuckled his way to his house.

  His empty house that still smelled like vanilla and almonds. He wished she’d left some kind of mess behind, but all her clothes and toiletries were neatly packed and by his bedroom door.

  They were back to being co-parents, and that was it. What he wanted to do was sit on his bed, maybe take out one of her shirts and smell it like a goddamn creeper. He went into his office and lost himself in work. He worked for hours until around eight at night, his doorbell rang.

  He opened the door ready to growl at whoever it broke his concentration, but it was Iris. He didn’t get a chance to say anything or even properly process his shock at seeing her. She pushed him back, closed the door with her foot and jumped him.

  Porter hadn’t braced himself for that kind of reception. They tumbled to the floor. She ended up on top. Iris didn’t hesitate to tear off her dress and slam her mouth back onto his. She hadn’t worn underwear. He didn’t bother taking anything off. Porter wrestled with his zipper and underwear to get his dick out. He cupped her ass cheek to lift her and she did the rest. They both groaned when he was inside her. She ground her pelvis into him, purring deeply.

  She was tight and so wet he didn’t even think to look if this time she was bleeding. He didn’t get the chance to stop if she was. Iris was already coming and dragging him with her.

  Jesus.

  They lasted about two minutes, and it was the best two minutes of his life.

  She broke the kiss, resting her forehead on his. “Round one,” she muttered.

  He blinked to clear his vision. “How long were you at sixty before you came over?”

  She kissed him softly, sucking his bottom lip in, and then she edged back. “The moment the doctor said I could resume all normal activities. It’s why I sent you away. I would have fucked you in the parking lot. I had a long to-do list at work and then at home.”

  She rolled off him, stretching her arms above her head. He slanted his head to look at her. Her bra was lopsided and half her boob hung out. He gasped when he got to her stomach.

  “Where the fuck did that come from?” The past week she’d worn baggy clothes that didn’t cling to any part of her body. Apparently Junior had grown at lightning speed. Her stomach, even with her on her back, had a sure, unmistakable curve. She was still small, but very pregnant.

  She followed his gaze. “I know. I’m all belly now.”

  “Does it make me a pervert if I find you incredibly fuckable right now?”

  She shook her head. “It’s the tits. They are still hypnotizing you.” She cupped herself, and squeezed her breasts. “I’m going to miss them being this round.”

  She met his gaze and bit the side of her lip.

  “Porter,” she moaned then chuckled when his dick twitched. “I’m ready for round two.”

  That’s all he needed to hear. He rolled over and made up for lost time.

  *****

  Iris woke with a moan on her lips. Took her a moment to realize she was in Porter’s bed, his fingers were riding up and down her spine and their limbs were tangled. The room, they still smelled like sweat and sex. She cracked open an eye. The sun rested just below the window sill. It was early morning then. She had enough time to get home and get ready for work.

  “What are you craving?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes again. His fingers were rough against her skin. She loved the friction of it. She loved the fact his first words to her were about food.

  The intimacy of the moment made her heart race. She needed to go home and back to reality. This wasn’t her life. He wasn’t hers. She didn’t want him to be because she knew one day he’d ask questions she didn’t want to answer. He’d ask her to be a woman—this woman who listened to her libido and not common sense. She breathed in and let the air out slowly.

  “You.”

  His chest rumbled with a laugh. “I think we can go one more time before my dick starts to hurt.”

  Porter, the man with a quick smile, had such a dirty mouth. “You have a way with words.”

  “Just wait. I know you’re going into work today. I want you at sixty all day.”

  And that meant he wanted her to come back here, when it had nothing to do with bed rest or their baby. She turned her face to his chest and closed her teeth around his nipple.

  “Fuck.”

  She smiled and did it again. He rolled her over, pinning her hands down at her sides. She wrapped her legs around him. His lids were sex-heavy and low. He smiled before he put his mouth to her ear.

  He did that growl she loved. “You’re already wet, but I’m wondering ho
w much is you and how much is my come.”

  “Nasty.” But she moaned.

  “I still want to lick it all up. Taste you. Taste you when you taste like me.”

  She wiggled against him until his cock rubbed along her sex.

  “You’re wet and swollen and your clit is hard.” He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “I know what I’m craving for breakfast.”

  “Porter, stop teasing me.”

  He took the lobe in his mouth and sucked with enough bite in his teeth to make her want to come then and there.

  He said, “What I want is for you to sit on my face. Feed me for once.”

  She bit his shoulder, hard, and he only laughed in her ear, shifting his dick to the side so it rested against her inner thigh.

  “Maybe while you’re sitting on my face, you can swallow my cock. I’m considerate. I don’t want to leave you hungry.”

  She turned her face until she could take his mouth. Iris had to shut him up. She knew the action wouldn’t help. She’d sit at work, at her desk and his words would brush along her memory. She rolled her hips until his dick was back where she needed it. Her sex throbbed.

  “Please, fuck me,” she murmured against his lips.

  He pulled back, and the cocky smile was gone as he held her stare. He shifted his hips until the head of his cock rested at her entrance.

  “Say it again,” he demanded.

  She didn’t have to ask what word he wanted her to say again. “Please.”

  He entered her slowly, watching her face. She wanted to close her eyes or turn her head away. She didn’t want to see the desire mixed with affection in his eyes. His emotions were pulling her in—he was. Porter.

  Maybe he could see because he leaned forward, not to kiss her, but to rest his forehead on hers as he kept his strokes slow but deep. He’d fucked her like this before, but not like this. She curled her fingers around his nape to hold him there though she knew it was stupid because her heart already was full of him, of what they’d been doing for weeks now. She felt every inch of him, inside, surrounding her. She couldn’t escape him. She couldn’t help but feel she was losing a bit of herself, letting in him so damn deep.