“I wasn’t so worried about your dad camping out as I was about your mom bringing out her “crazy”,” says Lacey putting air quotes around the word crazy. I giggle out loud, nodding in agreement. Lacey is always so animated when she speaks, her hands adding to her facial expressions. She can make me laugh and for that I’m grateful.
“I’m so proud of myself Lace,” I say my emotions turning on a dime with my eyes welling up again.
“You should be sweet pea. You’re working hard at your studies, and your house is gorgeous.”
She’s right, the house IS gorgeous. It is an all brick bungalow with a double car garage with a nice wide drive. The bricks are a shade of grey and the front door is painted a deep red, which I adore. The front of the home has a small porch with two wrought iron garden chairs around a tiny circular table. In front of the porch is a beautiful flower bed. It’s nearing summer time so it’s in full bloom, and I’m so pleased with the outcome. Inside, the main floor is all open concept. The floors are a soft grey hand scraped oak. Dark blueish, grey suede furniture sits in the den slash living room with a black coffee table and a flat screen TV. Two large bookshelves hold all of my favorites, and what doesn’t fit out here, the rest go onto the shelves in my office. While I read on a Kindle now, I have signed paperback copies from Charisse Spiers, Victoria Ashley and I can’t forget T.H. Snyder. Man, can those women write! I love to curl up on the couch and flip on the gas fireplace with a big glass of wine and my favorite book. I can’t ask for anything better to do with my time. Thinking of curling up brings me back to the present.
“Let’s head to the living room where we can be more comfortable.” I grab my glass in one hand and the bottle with the other, “Can’t forget this,” which prompts a soft laugh from Lacey.
“Do you remember your dad, acting like he was Mr. handy man when he checked the house out?” I laugh at how he went over the house with a fine tooth comb, approving of my choice because the subdivision has a low crime rate. That’s what matters to Dad, knowing his princess is safe. I’m definitely a Daddy’s girl, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m blessed we have a good relationship,” I tell her.
“Oh I know you do, but I also know you’re so happy to be close with your mom.”
I nod in agreement, taking a sip of my wine.
“I can talk to her about anything and I know she’s got my back no matter what, always encouraging me and offering great advice,” I tell her.
“I guess it’s weird to me because I never had that with my mom,” Lacey says wistfully. I lean forward and squeeze her leg. “None of my other girlfriends tell their moms everything.”
“I know it’s weird. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child,” I say shrugging nonchalantly. I’m so thankful I can tell my mom anything and everything. She knows there isn’t anyone special, and that there never has been. She laughs with me, when I tell her about all my “book boyfriends”, like Slade or Breyson. She is the first person to reassure me, and tells me I just need a bit more patience, that everyone matures at their own rate. She always says that love will come when I’m not looking for it and when I least expect it. Either way, I’m lucky to have her in my corner.
“Yeah, maybe it is because you’re an only. I guess we’ll never know. She’s been great with helping you decorate, this place is really coming together.”
I look around with a keen eye, admiring the house. Mom and I have had so much fun in decorating my house. Mom hired her painters, and the house was done in one week. She has an amazing eye for color, and a knack for putting pieces together. We recently found several estate pieces at an auction, and they look brand new. The best part was the price, I feel like I’ve stolen them. It’s all coming together, and I can’t be happier about the house.
“Ok Lace, moving was step one in helping me take charge of my life, but how does one go about changing themselves?”
We are who we are, so how can I change that? I’m 22 years old, and I’ve never had a boyfriend, serious or otherwise. Don’t get me wrong, I have a few good friends, female and male, there just hasn’t been anyone in particular that has interested me. Not one soul. I wonder if maybe there is something wrong with me, like I said before, I’m wishy-washy. I think I’m too particular about everything in my life and maybe I need to learn to go with the flow.
“Step two is getting you out there, maybe meeting someone and instead of turning down an invite for coffee, you’re going to accept,” she says firmly. “The old you would turn them down, you just need to remember this is a new you.”
I heave a sigh and shrug. I want to date, I really do, but no one has sparked any sort of feeling or response from me. I get asked out all the time, but so far, I’ve turned everyone down. I didn’t even go to any high school dances, or even my prom. Mom always says that I’ll meet that special someone, when the time is right. She tells me that it’s ok, there is no deadline with meeting someone and that everyone goes at their own pace. I know she’s right, but I still feel strange, the odd man out. I was always quirky and socially awkward, on the sideline and never fitting in.
I wish I could be more like Lacey. She is always so outgoing, she is mouthy and sassy and has dates all the time.
“You’re just too picky. You need to give someone a try, you need to give ANYONE a try,” she finishes sarcastically.
I wave my arms at her, brushing her off, “I’m in no hurry Lace,” I say, “It will happen when it happens,” I finish with a smile.
She grunts in dissatisfaction, “You’re playing with fire,” she says with conviction, “If you keep turning these guys down, well, you’ll see,” she says in a suddenly serious voice, “One day, someone’s going to get pissed and then you won’t know what hit you,” she finishes quietly, looking me dead in the eyes.
I know she’s serious when she looks at me like that, but I don’t understand. I’m kind to everyone and let them down gently, and I’m never rude. Why would they want to retaliate? Lacey calls me a tease. But how am I a tease if I don’t offer anything, including any hope to going out with me? To me, a tease puts herself out there, and then pulls back. Like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey, but then eating the carrot for myself. That’s not me, not at all.
Maybe Lacey is right. Maybe I need to put myself out there, and meet someone. I can go out for coffee, and keep things easy.
What could go wrong?
It’s Friday night and I’m at the gym waiting on Deacon so we can spar. For sparring purposes we’re using one of the side rooms and one of our coaches has put mats down for us. I’m in the corner, taping up my hands. I’m wearing a cup under loose black shorts tonight, I know how Deac gets sometimes and my poor balls are always on the losing end. As I get done taping my hands, I pop in a gel mouth guard and start bouncing on my toes, swinging my arms to warm up.
“Fucker no amount of warm up is going to help you any,” I hear over my shoulder. I smile as I see Deacon come into the room. He’s absolutely right, I’ve never been able to take him down, not since he turned eighteen, but I keep trying. I also can’t give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m just going to bend over and take one up the ass because he wants me too. Fuck that shit.
“Whatever douche,” I scoff with a wave of my hand as if he’s inconsequential. I love egging him on, makes the fight that much better.
“Shake,” Coach Epp shouts out giving us a sharp whistle breaking us out of our pissing contest.
We both approach the center of the mat tapping our fists signaling we’re ready to bring the fury.
The minute the whistle blows all other sights and sounds cease for me, my focus is centered on keeping my breathing steady. We both bring our hands up to our face, keeping a protective barrier as we throw taunts at one another.
“C’mon old man,” Deacon mutters, “Is that all you got for me?” I step forward with my left foot while bringing my right knee up hitting him directly in the kidneys. I smile as he grunts in pain letting ou
t a little hiss.
“Who you calling old?” Sweat is dripping into my eyes as we continue dancing around one another. I dodge Deacon’s left uppercut only to be hit by his right hook as blood flies out of my mouth. I shake it off and retaliate hitting him above his left eye, the skin splitting from the contact.
“You’re in trouble now,” he taunts, “Mom’s going to kick your ass for hurting me.”
I scoff at his use of the “mom card.”
“You going to tattle on me?” Oh shit, I’ve gone too far with that taunt and pissed him off. I can see the change in his eyes. Deacon isn’t someone you want to fuck with, especially if he’s pissed off. I know I’m in for a world of hurt, but a damn good fight.
A sharp whistle breaks our attention as Coach Epp signals for us to bring our fight to an end.
“Showers boys,” he shouts. Coach Epp was our coach when we were young boys and has trained many fighters. I know he enjoys his time here at King Cage, but he’s getting older and when he’s had enough, then nobody talks back.
Both Deacon and I head for the showers, I’m eager to get under the warm spray and ease some of my sore muscles. I’m amazed at how fast the gym is growing, our classes filling up so quickly that we’re forced to add another timeslot to our schedule.
The boys have convinced me to get out tonight and go to a local club. I’m not much for clubbing, other than looking for my latest one night stand. To me, relationships are a big waste of time, women are cheaters and liars and you always have to watch your back. You think you know someone, until you find out that you don’t know them at all, and likely never did. I head to my locker and grab my towel and a bottle of body wash and pull my sweaty gym clothes off, shoving them into my gym bag. I pad naked to the showers, and step under the spray washing all the sweat off of my heavily muscled body. I’m showered and dried off quickly, dressing in nicer pants with a dress shirt open at the neck and the sleeves rolled up. I’m ready to go in less than ten minutes, throwing in a quick brushing of my teeth, a splash of cologne and we’re out the door.
The club is called Oblivion and is packed by the time we arrive at ten.
“I’m going to head to the bar and grab us some drinks,” I belt out to Deacon and Carter. I see them nod their heads so I know they heard me. I head straight to the bar to grab a round of beers for me and the boys, eager to take my first gulp. I signal the bartender and put in my order my fingers tapping against the bar. The bartender hands me three beers and I hand him the cash leaving a nice tip before I make my way to the guys handing Carter and Deacon their beers.
I park my ass against the wall and just watch everyone around me, its second nature for me to observe quietly and make assessments as needed. I need to be able to think quickly on my feet, split second decisions are my specialty and can result in life or death. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the oldest or not, but the boys always tell me to let go a little. It’s not in my nature, and I wouldn’t know how. I’ve always been protective and loyal, taking care of what’s mine. I’m always on edge, and ready for anything. I was thankful for those reflexes when in the Special Forces as I faced situations I’d rather never repeat in this lifetime.
It isn’t long before the women start throwing themselves at me. I don’t want to come off as cocky, but I guess I’m a good looking guy. I’ve never experienced a shortage of women looking for some fun that’s for sure. The women tonight are on the prowl, literally. I swear I feel claws running across my abs or thighs, coming dangerously close to the goods. I’ve turned several women away tonight, but there is one woman that is a possibility, Carrie or something, I’m not big on names. She’s run off to the ladies room as I finish my beer before I’m lost in thought.
“There you are,” I look down to see a feminine hand has grabbed my arm and I remember I’d left Carrie or Mary or whatever her name is in the ladies room. Carrie giggles and pulls me down a back hallway, looking over her shoulder at me, her eyes shining. She’s pretty enough, a bit overdone for my tastes with her makeup looking as if she applied it with a putty knife, it’s even cracking in places, like around her eyes and mouth. I shrug it off, intent on one thing. Getting off. She backs me into the wall, and I’m allowing her to think she’s in charge as she bares her teeth to me and swipes her tongue across them. I swear she’s the lion and I’m the bloody steak. She notices the bulge in my pants and assumes it’s there for her. Whatever. As long as I get what I want. I’ve had enough of her playtime, it’s time for me to take charge.
I chuckle as her eyes widen in lust as I spin her around till her back is against the wall and bend my face to her neck as I kiss and nibble at it. She tries to kiss me on the mouth, but I don’t do that, not wanting or needing the intimacy. I want one thing, and that’s to fuck. If you want or expect more, then you’re looking in the wrong place.
“Mmmmmm,” she purrs as I slide my hand up her skirt and slip my fingers under panties, finding her slick and ready for me.
“Is this for me,” she says then bites her bottom lip as she rubs her hands over the bulge in my pants. She’s groaning loudly as she wraps one of her legs around my waist and runs her hands over my cock. I thrust two fingers inside of her pussy, pumping in a steady rhythm while my thumb rubs circles on her clit. The music from the club drowns out her loud moans and the dark hallway keeps us hidden from prying eyes.
Her hands reach for the snap on my jeans as she frantically yanks them open and pulls my cock out. The fact that we’re in public and can get caught at any minute revs me up even more. I can tell she’s close, she’s riding my hand in a frenzy and moans loudly when she comes, her pussy milking my fingers in eager contractions. I pull my fingers out of her only long enough to reach for the condom in my pocket and quickly roll it on over my piercing eager for my own release. I push into her in one swift stroke and she cries out loudly, urging me on as I groan, her tight pussy gripping my cock in its tight sleeve. I grip her ass in my hands and pound into her, stroke after punishing stroke, striving for my own release as sweat beads on my brow. Mary, or Carrie or whoever the fuck she is, is close again so I push my hand between our bodies and find her swollen clit, rubbing the throbbing bundle of nerves until she screams in pleasure. I follow closely behind, grunting as I grit my teeth and come into the rubber. Sweat is beading down my back and I’m breathing harshly as I pull out and tie off the condom while stuffing my cock back into my pants before heading towards the men’s room to toss the rubber. I can hear her behind me, calling for me to hold up and wait on her, but I keep on going. She’s waiting when I come out of the bathroom, an uncertain smile on her face. I’m not a total dick, so I thank her for the good times and take her number letting her see me slip it into my wallet. I won’t keep it, it’s clear to me that she is clingy and that is something I don’t need or want in my life. Been there done that and thank fuck avoided it with all I had in me. I nod my head in farewell and walk back through the throng of people and head straight to the bar ready to quench my thirst. As I’m waiting for my beer I turn my back to the bar, staring out at the hundreds of people milling about, dancing and chatting.
“You look relaxed,” I look to my right to see Carter with a shit eating grin on his face. “A bit of sparring with a dash of sex makes Reid a decent human being.” I shake my head thinking how juvenile my brothers and I can be, but fuck, we have a fun time of it!
“Fuck you,” I snort, “You’re just jealous because Sloan isn’t here.” Sloan is Connor’s sister and Carter has been crushing on her since forever. I’ve hit a nerve because he punches me really hard in the arm and walks off. I smile and shrug it off knowing he’ll have forgiven me before he even takes ten steps. Men are like that. One punch to show me he’s pissed and it’s all good.
I’m minding my own business when something catches my eye and I’m immediately hard. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I squint my eyes as I see her across the room, dancing with her eyes closed her body moving in a sensual manner. My cock is harde
ning behind my zipper becoming almost painful as I take a long pull of my beer, not taking my eyes off of her. She’s in a red dress that plunges low in the front, and when she circles in front of me I see that it plunges low in the back too, so I can almost see the crack of her ass. Instead I see the cute little dimples at the bottom of her spine and an incredible fuck-me ass. She’s a tiny little thing, with a nice rack and curvy little hips. I lick my lips watching her, the bulge in my pants throbbing incessantly, begging for more action. I want to tangle my hands in her hair as I grab her and fuck her up against the wall until she screams my name. She must sense that someone is watching her as her eyes pop open suddenly and meet mine from across the room. She stops moving and it’s too dark to be certain, but I swear she’s blushing as her eyes drop to the ground shyly. Fuckkkkkk, she’s so damn beautiful.
Mom always tells us boys that one day love will find us, whether we want it or not, it happens. She describes it like a lightning bolt, electric and exciting, giving you tingles and heating you up both inside and out. I better keep my eyes open and ready because if I see it coming, then I can run in the other direction. This emotion I’m feeling? Pure lust.
Besides, I’ve always been taught never to stand under a tree in a lightning storm.
Tonight’s the night. The night that I’m going to put myself out there, and take a chance. I’m grabbing the bull by the horns because today is the first day of the rest of my life. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I need to embrace these changes, otherwise I’m not going to learn and grow but I’ve got to tell you, it isn’t easy.
Even though I’m pumping myself up with all this talk about taking a chance, and embracing changes, the truth is my knees are knocking in fear. My nerves are getting the best of me, my hands are clammy and I’m panting. All this, and that’s just me, THINKING about making changes. Oh boy, I can already see this is going to be one hell of a ride. I feel like what I imagine a bull rider must feel like, I just need to hold on for eight seconds, and see where it goes from there.
Recovered Love Page 3