Miss Congeniality

by Marie Garner

  “Whatever. I made you come.”

  “Yeah, but can you make me come again?”

  He cocked his head at her, disbelief over what she just asked. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Are you going to accept it?”

  “Why don’t you wait and see?” He reached between them and parted her thighs again.

  “Are you wet for me?” he whispered in her ear. She bit her lip to stop the groan, and nodded yes. “Good.” He moved his cock to the entrance of her pussy, rubbing up and down between her folds.

  “Lance…” she begged, and he didn’t make her wait. He simply plunged in to the hilt and stopped. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed up to change the angle of penetration. He leaned down, taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily as he started to move in and out slowly. He moved to the other nipple, biting when he was done with it, continuing to thrust slowly. She plunged her fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply while he moved slowly.

  This is what making love feels like, she thought, tears springing to her eyes. He pushed a couple more times before he reached between them again so he could play with her clit. He rubbed against it rapidly while he continued to move slowly, and Brea found the familiar feeling build in her back before she fell apart. He thrust a couple more times before he came, as well, collapsing on top of her as he peppered her face with kisses. Lance lay there a minute or two before moving to get off her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs still around his hips, and anchored him in place.

  “Babe, I need to get off you and go back inside.”

  “Nu-uh.” She didn’t want him to move; she wanted to sleep with his weight on her, his body covering her like a blanket.

  “I’m too heavy for you.” He kissed the side of her neck, the only place he could reach with the way he was positioned.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered in his neck.

  He rubbed her arms. “We’ll stay here a few more minutes.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, closing her eyes.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Brea pouted the next day at breakfast. This trip had been more eye-opening than she anticipated, and it was going to be hard to leave her family. She accomplished the one thing she set out to do with this trip, help her brother, and one thing she didn’t anticipate, talk to her mother. No one had heard from her since she and Brea had it out, but Brea wasn’t holding her breath. She didn’t want to give up on her mother, but she chose not to let her rule her life anymore.

  “I don’t either,” Lance said, kissing her forehead.

  “You could always stay,” Silvia said hopefully.

  “I agree with Silvia,” said Derrick.

  “I know you do, but we have to go visit Lance’s parents. They would be upset if we didn’t come and may blame me for leading their boy astray.” She winked at Lance, who simply shook his head and reached for some eggs.

  “So have you made any decisions?” she asked Alex, who was still considering whether he should move.

  “Let me get all this legal stuff behind me, bossy,” Alex joked. She and Alex had talked about what happened with their mother, and he told Brea she had started getting that way when they were in high school. She was still in awe of how much he protected her without her being aware, knowing she couldn’t ask for a better big brother. If only she could get him on the other coast. He seemed to be more open to it, especially since their mother didn’t talk like she was going to change anytime soon, and Derrick and Silvia were always here to check on her if they absolutely needed them to.

  She held her hand up in surrender. “This is me backing off.”

  “Anyone want to bet money she doesn’t stay off my case?”

  “We call that a sucker bet,” Lance quipped.

  “Shut up,” she said. He pulled her closer, whispering so only she could hear.

  “I can give you something to shut you up.” She shoved away from him, blushing furiously.

  “Do we want to know?” Silvia asked.

  “Um, no, ma’am.” Lance dug into his eggs like they were the best he had ever eaten. Thirty minutes and about a million hugs and kisses later, Brea and Lance were backing out of the driveway.

  “I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” Brea voiced what she had been thinking for the last couple of days.

  Lance shrugged. “We do what we need to survive. You ended up exactly where you needed to be when you needed to be there.”

  “True,” she agreed. “I mean, if I had come back more, I may not be the successful actress I am today.”

  “And ever so humble.”

  “Hey now, we’ve been getting along really well the last couple of days. Don’t start your shit today.”

  “What shit, I was simply pointing out your comment was very humbling.” Eager to change the subject, she asked him about Alex.

  “Do you think Alex will move with me?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but if anyone can convince him to move, it would be you.”

  “I just want him to be happy.”

  “And he will be, but you need to let him sort his shit out first. Like he told you at breakfast, he needs to get his legal troubles behind him before he can even consider a move across the country.”

  “I’m going to get him to come with me.” She was determined, if it was the only thing she did. Reaching down, she changed the station from the pop music that was playing. He slapped her hand, causing her to jerk it back and hold it against her chest. He took the time to change the station back while she could only stare at him in shock.

  “Did you just hit me?”

  He pointed at the radio. “What have I told you about touching someone’s radio?”

  “I never knew you were going to be abusive to me.”

  “That was a love tap, no worse than if I spanked you.”

  “You never spank me.”

  “Not that you don’t need it.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see this side of you before.”

  “What can I say, I have hidden depths.”

  “Does your mama know you hit women?”

  “Are you serious? I barely touched you. And I’ve told you before about touching my radio.” She formed a circular motion with her hand to include the whole car.

  “This is a rental car; you can’t tell me this is your car.”

  “The reservation is in my name and I’m paying for it, freeloader, so it’s my car.”

  “Why am I going with you again?”

  “Because I give you the best orgasms of your life.” He had her there. But it didn’t mean he had to continue to discuss their sex life.

  “You’re such a perv. And I never said you gave me the best orgasms.”

  “But I’m your perv.”

  “Whatever.” Wanting to change the subject, and because she really was curious, she asked him again about his family.

  “Will your family like me?”

  “As long as you bathe.” She slapped his arm, not enjoying his joke.

  “Not funny. I’m really concerned.” He sighed, having gone over this several times in the last couple weeks. For someone usually so self-assured, she was being ridiculous. The whole idea of being around his family unnerved her, because despite the fact that Derek and Sylvia were amazing, no one would ever say she had a normal upbringing. Pile on the additional shit her mother just gave her, and Brea was more worried than average.

  “Like I’ve told you hundreds of times before, my family will love you, and you know why?”

  “No.”

  “Because you are intelligent, sweet, funny, gorgeous….and…” he paused for dramatic effect.

  “And what?” she asked eagerly. He really was a great guy, and most days she felt like pinching herself because he was hers.

  “You give good head.” She slugged him this time, wanting it to hurt. He rubbed where she hit him, pretending like it did. Good. He could be an asshole sometimes.

  “Why in the hell doe
s everything come back to sex with you?”

  He squeezed her thigh for emphasis. “Hey, there’s a reason why sex is the oldest profession in the world.”

  “And there’s a reason homicide is one of the oldest crimes.” She grabbed him over his jeans and twisted.

  “Is America’s Sweetheart threatening me?”

  “If people knew half the stuff you did to me, they would let me off for a justifiable homicide.”

  “You know, you’re really aggravating sometimes.”

  “It’s part of the charm you fell in love with.”

  “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” Brea sat up straight in her seat when they turned into a long driveway. His parents’ house was a beautiful, old farmhouse, yellow with dark blue shutters, complete with a wrap-around porch with a swing. It looked picture-perfect, and she was in love already.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Lance asked, trying to picture the house through her eyes.

  “Nothing, just waiting to see who comes out to greet us.” He stared curiously, waiting for her explanation.

  “Well, I’m just wondering if it’s going to be Auntie Em or Aunt Bee?” she said in her best impersonation of Andy Griffith.

  He shook his head. “All of a sudden, she’s a damn comedian. Why the hell couldn’t you have stayed asleep?” She had passed out soon after they left the airport, only waking in the last fifteen minutes.

  “How would I be able to annoy you if I stayed asleep?” He rolled his eyes before he came to a stop. As if scripted from a movie, a gorgeous woman came out the door before he could shut off the engine. She had blonde hair cut short around her face, wore jeans and a fitted black t-shirt with an apron over her clothes and held a dishtowel.

  “She bakes!”

  “Will you shut up and act normal?” Lance asked.

  “What are you going to give me if I do?”

  Lance narrowed his eyes. Smart me. “Another orgasm.”

  “Throw in dinner at West End and you’re on.” West End was one of the more exclusive restaurants in LA, and it just happened to be one of her favorites. He held out his hand, which she shook to seal the deal. She gave him a smacking kiss before she got out of the car. She smiled brightly at his mother, who was watching them with inquisitive green eyes resembling Lance’s.

  “Hello, Mrs. Holder.” She walked up the steps with her hand outstretched. His mother waved off her hand, reaching for a hug instead. Brea was shocked; she’d never seen such an open display of affection, but enjoyed being engulfed in the scent of cinnamon.

  “None of that ‘Mrs. Holder’ stuff,” his mom said. “Just call me Margaret.”

  “Okay, Margaret it is. Thank you so much for having me.”

  “We love to meet Lance’s friends.”

  “Oh, you do?” She glanced back at Lance, who was gathering up their bags, with a raised eyebrow. “Have you met a lot of his friends?”

  “Oh, plenty.” Margaret bit her lip to keep the smile from her face. “He’s always bring home different people.”

  “Mom,” Lance said seriously.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She waved the towel in the air. “I forgot you told me I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” Brea pursed her lips, watching the exchange with curious blue eyes.

  “You never change, do you, MI?” Lance hugged his mother, lifting her slightly. He kissed her cheek, grinning widely. He turned with his arm around her shoulder to face Brea. “I see you’ve met my mother, who I affectionately named MI, meaning maximum impact.” He looked at his mother lovingly. “She tends to say whatever she can to get the biggest reaction out of people. And she’s lying; I haven’t brought any women here since I left.”

  “What about that Rhonda woman?”

  “She’s my agent, Mom; I pay her to work for me. It would probably get awkward if I started sleeping with her.”

  “Or she would be your prostitute.”

  “See what I mean?” he stated.

  “I still want to know about the women you brought before you left home.” His mother hooted.

  “You finally got a smart one.”

  “Why, thank you,” Brea said. “I keep trying to tell him, but he doesn’t believe me.”

  “Oh, he’s just like his daddy in that regard.” His mom opened the door, ushering Brea in. Brea looked to see what Lance thought of what his mother said, and he was just shaking his head in the way men have done for years when they know they’re outnumbered.

  “Really? Do tell.” She followed her into the kitchen where his mother was clearly making a spread. “Oh, this looks fabulous.”

  Margaret brightened at the compliment. “Thank you, darling. I’ve been baking all day. Lance said I didn’t need to, and I know how you actresses are with your diet, but I couldn’t help it. I hope you don’t think my cookies will make you fat.”

  “I would love to get fat on your cookies,” Brea answered honestly.

  “Why does that sound dirty?” Margaret asked, holding out a plate of snicker doodles. Brea laughed; she could tell she was going to love his mother.

  “Because you have a dirty mind, old lady.” He grabbed a cookie, taking a big bite, moaning in appreciation. “Mom, these are great.”

  “Of course, they are; I made them, didn’t I? Now, if your sister had made them it would be a different story.” Lance’s lips curved, thinking of his culinary-challenged sister.

  “Lauren still not cooking?”

  “Lord no, but she’s trying hard. They’ll be here tomorrow, but she said the kids had something at daycare tonight. A summer fling or some old thing.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “Dad around?”

  “He’s in the south pasture; some fence needed mending. You can go see him if you want to.”

  “I think I may do that.” He ignored the panicked look overtaking Brea’s face. Serves her right, he thought. Abandoning her to his mother while he went to talk to his dad would be the ultimate payback.

  “Go ahead, honey. Brea and I’ll just stay here and visit.”

  “With pleasure. Walk me out?” Brea practically leaped out of her chair at his question.

  “I’ll be right back,” she mumbled to his mother. She was busy mixing something in a bowl, her reply of ‘take your time’ the only indication she heard Brea.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Brea hissed when they got outside.

  “Give me a kiss.” He tried to grab her, but she stepped out of his reach.

  “Why would I kiss a traitor?”

  “Because I love you. And I promise to give you an orgasm tonight.” He nuzzled her neck, kissing behind her ear before he captured her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

  “In your parents’ house? You bad boy.”

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He kissed her again, squeezing her ass before he let her go.

  “Bye, babe.” He slapped her ass as she walked away.

  “Stop slapping her ass, Lance; she’s not in trouble!” Lance cringed and blushed furiously, not realizing his mother was standing there. He hoped she hadn’t heard him talking about having sex with Brea in her house.

  “Honey, you really shouldn’t let him treat you like that. It lets him think he’s in charge,” he could hear her telling Brea.

  “She knows I’m in charge!” he yelled at his mother, unable to resist.

  “The hell you are!” Brea yelled back. She turned to his mother. “You gotta help me out here; he’s always getting the upper hand.”

  “Oh, honey, you came to the right place. I’ve been dealing with Holder men most of my life, and his daddy is worse than he is.”

  “I can’t imagine.” Brea was horrified by the prospect there was someone pushier than Lance.

  “You have no idea. Come on, I’m going to have that boy eating out of your hand.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Brea perked up. Maybe bonding with his mother would be a good thing.

  Thirty minutes and one bottle
of wine later, Brea and Margaret were pleasantly buzzed and cackling like loons.

  “Tell me more!” Brea slapped her hand on the table, craving more stories about Lance’s childhood. Margaret had been trying to tell all the embarrassing stories she could while the men were away and couldn’t stop her.

  “Well, since you twisted my leg,” she said with a wink before she drank her wine. “There was this one time, Lance was about two months shy of his second birthday, and I had made a big bowl of peach preserves. You know how to make peach preserves?”

  Brea shook her head, fascinated by this modern pioneer woman. She didn’t even know people still made peach preserves. Silvia never did, so anyone who did any type of canning had her upmost respect.

  “Oh, you poor dear. You’ll have to come back when peaches are in season and I’ll teach you how to make them.”

  “Deal.” Brea grinned goofily, pleased his mother talked as though it was a foregone conclusion they would still be together in a couple of months.

  “Oh, I love new blood.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully, and Brea saw where Lance got his tenacity. She liked his mother, but frankly, the woman was a bit scary. Margaret pursed her lips. “Now, what was I telling you?”

  “Lance and peach preserves.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot. So I had prepared this batch, cut all the peaches, and mixed it with sugar. I let it gel overnight, so the mixture really sets. Well, this one batch I had made like normal and set it on the table. That night, I heard these noises coming from the kitchen and I woke up Gerald because I knew someone was breaking in.”

  Brea’s eyes widened. “What was it?”

  “Not what? Who. We came in the kitchen and that boy of mine had climbed up onto the table and was scooping up the peaches by the handful.” She mimicked the gesture Lance must have made, smashing both hands to her face as a young child would do. Brea laughed, picturing Lance as a baby greedily eating peaches drenched in sugar.

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, after I stopped freaking out that my child ate peaches and sugar, I got him cleaned up and back to bed. I was so damn mad, but I got my revenge because that boy had diarrhea for days.” Brea lost it, laughing so hard she started hyperventilating. Served him right, she thought. Mr. I’m Better Than You was foiled by a bunch of peaches.