Big O Box Set

by Penny Wylder

  “Because I thought it was better this way. I thought it was better if you didn’t get to know me outside the club.”

  “That’s—” I hold up a hand to stop him.

  “I’ve figured some stuff out in the last day. Some stuff about myself and my family. That how I see myself might not be…correct. And I realized that I wanted to come back. I wanted to be the person that I was here, that confident person that I was with you. I wanted to lose myself tonight. I shouldn’t have come, but I didn’t feel like I could stay away.”

  “Yes, you should have come. You should never have left,” he says. “I want you. All of you. Not just this.”

  “I’m not sure that I’m ready for that. But I am ready for you.” I pull open the coat and drop it, and his eyes go wide at the lingerie I’m wearing, that’s little more than nothing.

  His gaze follows the straps down to where my pussy is wet for him and back up to my face. “I want to talk about this more, Christine.”

  I take a step forward. “We can talk about it more. After.”

  His face hardens, and I see that familiar look of lust on his face. “Fine. If I can’t convince you that we should go further, I can show you why you should stay with me here.” He tears off his clothes and I watch his perfect, glorious body appear. He scoops me up off the floor and tumbles me onto the bed, body coming down hard on top of me. The animal energy in him calls to me. I know that he’d never hurt me. All the same, we’re rough with each other. I scrape my nails down his back, and his teeth dig into my shoulder as he touches me. He turns me onto my stomach, pushing my legs open with his knees and I hear the familiar sound of foil.

  Hudson shoves in roughly, and I groan because I’ve missed the feeling of him inside me. His body pushes mine into the mattress as he fucks me. That’s what it is. This isn’t just sex, it’s raw and powerful, and it shakes me to my core. I’m panting, wanting more. His hands are on my wrists holding me down as he pounds in, and as he takes me, I can hear his voice in my ear. “You can’t get this anywhere else, and you love it. You love me fucking you like you’re mine. And I love fucking you like this. How could you just disappear like that, without even giving me a chance.” His words disappear into what’s almost a growl, and he thrusts harder, faster.

  The headboard is knocking against the wall, and an orgasm is gathering inside me, something wild and brutal and altogether different than anything I’ve felt before. I think that Hudson is deeper inside me than he’s ever been before. I can feel him everywhere, every stroke in every part of my body. He’s marking me, and I want it. He’s grunting with the effort and I can’t stop moaning, saying yes, and my voice rises with the tide of pleasure until I’m almost screaming.

  Hudson screams out my name as he comes, fucking his way through his orgasm, and mine follows. It’s not just a wave, it’s a cascade, a tsunami, it crushes me with the sheer size of the sensation. My pussy clamps down onto him, holding on, never wanting this to end. It’s too big to hold, no person can have this much pleasure in their body at once. It’s impossible. He collapses on top of me, and I’m pinned beneath his heat, his cock still inside me as the orgasm wrings me out. I can’t move, he’s everywhere, around me and in me. Pulling out, he turns me over, kissing me hard. So hard I think it might bruise.

  “If you’re going to leave again, tell me. I’d rather know than wake up to an empty bed.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  His face is hard, like he doesn’t believe me. That’s fair. But I’m really not.

  “If you’re not leaving, then tell me what your plans for the weekend are.”

  A wash of cold goes through my body. My mother and my sister. Even if I know that they’ve been wrong, that I’ve been wrong about myself, I’m still not ready to jump from this to domestic bliss. “It’s not you,” I say. “But I’m not quite ready. I feel safe here. I don’t know if I’m ready for you to meet the real me. I like who I am here, and I couldn’t take it if you didn’t like me in the real world.”

  “Please, Christine. I don’t care about that. I just want to know you.”

  “Let’s just…go slowly.”

  He sighs, but his face isn’t the hard and unyielding mask it was just a few minutes ago. “All right. As long as you promise not to disappear.”

  “I promise,” I say, moving my hand up to my chest. “Cross my heart.”

  “Good.” He kisses me hard again, and pulls back just long enough to replace the condom. “Now I have four days without you to make up for. When you leave you may not be able to walk.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is that your promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  11

  The familiar red pick-up truck pulls up outside my house at exactly ten o’clock. If there’s one thing my mother is, it’s punctual. In her mind punctuality is as close to godliness as cleanliness is. Though I’ve never understood how she could manage it on long trips like this. I guess there are worse super powers to have.

  I watch through the curtains as my sister hops down from the truck and my mother gets out from the driver’s side. They give the house a good long look. It’s the first time they’ve been here. I had an apartment last time. I’m only able to have a house like this because the owner is living in another country for a few years and wanted someone to keep living there. It’s nice and is in the right price range. Over the past year or so I’ve really made it mine. It’s become my safe space. Or it was, until I found Hudson and the club. But still, watching them approach my door makes my stomach sink and jaw clench. My realization of last night makes me want them in my home even less, but there’s nothing that I can do about it.

  I take a step back as they approach the door, so they don’t see me watching them, and I wait for the doorbell to ring. It does, and I give myself a second. I take a deep breath, paste a happy smile on my face, and open the door. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” my sister says, brushing past me as I stand aside.

  My mom gives me a smile and pulls me into a hug. “How are you, sweetie?”

  “I’m good. You guys have bags?”

  “They’re in the truck. We’ll grab them in a bit.” She comes in and I close the door. Catherine is standing, surveying the main area of my small house, and my mother joins her. For the first time, I see it how they must see it. Small and cramped with not quite enough natural light. Cluttered with my photography things and posters of strange art that they don’t understand. I can tell the smile on my mother’s face is fake. “This is nice.”

  “I like it,” I say, leading them into the living room. It’s not a lie. I do. I push what I think their judgements might be out of my head. It doesn’t matter what they think. “So, what’s the plan for the…fridge?”

  My mother nods. “New ice cream freezer for the store. Bigger than our last one. This one has sliding doors and everything.”

  “That’s great.”

  “They wouldn’t deliver it to Aguila. God forbid a delivery person drives a little way.”

  I clear my throat. “That’s a three-hour drive, mom. They probably need him for other deliveries.”

  She waves her hand like that doesn’t matter. “It’s bad business. If the fridge hadn’t already arrived here you better believe I would cancel. When you say your company services the Greater Phoenix Area, you should actually service that area.”

  “Okay.” I press my lips together, knowing that me saying the has unreasonably high expectations for deliveries isn’t going to get me anywhere. “So what’s the plan for the fridge?”

  Catherine leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees. “We can pick it up in a couple of hours and then we can do whatever.”

  “Whatever?”

  “Yeah!” My mom says chirpily. “I thought we’d just hang out with you, do what you’re doing.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  She nods, even though I can tell it’s overly enthusiastic. She’s trying my mom, even if she doesn’t agree. “What would you be
doing if we weren’t here?”

  “I’d probably be out taking pictures.”

  “Let’s do that then!”

  I give her a look. “You want to come with me? It’s not going to be interesting for you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she waves her hand again. “I’ll be with you. And if it’s important to you, I’m sure that it will be interesting.”

  Why, oh, why, didn’t I just lie and say that I’d be going to the park? Or the mall? Or anything that doesn’t end with my mom and my sister somewhere in Phoenix while I’m trying to take pictures? “Okay. We’ll go when you get back from picking up the fridge.”

  I resist the urge to slam the door behind me as I close it. My mom and Catherine are already in the living room, but I don’t stop. I head to my room and put down the equipment that I’m carrying. It was a disaster. A total, huge, all-encompassing disaster.

  We went to this location that I’d mapped out about a month ago—a beautiful broken down fountain. I’m going to have to go back because it’s beautiful, and once I get the perfect frame and turn it black in white I think it will be one of the best images I’ve ever gotten. But I’ll have to go back. I set up the camera and mom tried to ask questions and I tried to answer them. But my photoshoots are usually just me and my camera and an empty space, and me moving the camera a hair this way or that, or trying a different angle. Mom asked if a model was going to show up more than once. And by the time an hour had passed, I could feel both her and Catherine simmering with frustration. So I stopped, and now we’re back here. I should have insisted we do anything else.

  I take a breath, trying to calm myself, and head back to the living room, leaning against the doorway. “Do you guys want something to eat?”

  “What do you have?” Catherine asks.

  “I have stuff to make chicken and pasta. We can order take-out. It’s up to you guys. Maybe we can watch a movie or something.”

  My mom stands and crosses to the kitchen. “I can cook something.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mama.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, a tired smile on her face. “I’m happy to.”

  My mother always does like to be productive. She probably is actually happy to do it after an hour of doing what she views as nothing.

  “So why have you been dodging my calls?” Catherine says, looking up from her phone.

  Trust my sister to bring up something like this. “Because I didn’t want to be set up on anymore surprise dates.”

  “Whatever,” she says. “That was for your own good. And seeing what I just saw, I don’t see that you’ve been too busy to pick up the phone.”

  That’s because she usually called in the early evening and I was already on my way to the club and my phone was off. I shrug. “Besides, what makes you think I have been busy.”

  “Well, I’ve wanted to finish telling you about what Keith said about you. Especially after you stood him up.”

  “Catherine,” I snap, “I don’t give a shit about what Keith said.”

  Her eyes widen, and behind me my mother gasps. “Christine, watch your language!”

  I roll my eyes. “Mama, you and I both know that daddy says that and worse every day.”

  “Your father is a man. Ladies should have a more distinguished tongue.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. “Fine. I don’t care what Keith said.”

  “Why not?” Christine says, “He’s such a nice guy.”

  I give her a look. “He is not a nice guy. He is, frankly, an ass. Why you set me up with him in the first place is beyond me.”

  She scoffs. “You could do a lot worse than him.”

  “I could do a lot better, too. Trust me.”

  Christine’s eyes narrow. “I wondered about that. Suddenly you’re not answering your phone and you’re too good to date Keith. You’re seeing someone?”

  My heart plummets. If they find out about Hudson, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. He is the epitome of a city man, and to them, that’s the worst sin imaginable. “Honestly, me not wanting to date a man who basically bullied me in high school has nothing to do with me seeing someone.”

  She cocks her head to the side, considering. “You didn’t say you weren’t though.”

  “I didn’t say I was, Catherine. And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

  “I’m your sister,” she says, thoroughly appalled.

  I shake my head. “Why do you even care? Who I may or may not be with doesn’t affect you.”

  “She’s just worried about you, sweetie,” my mom says from the kitchen. “We all are.”

  There’s a sinking feeling in my gut, and I’m dreading what’s coming, but maybe if I pretend I don’t know what’s about to happen they’ll go easy on me. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” I say, gesturing around to my house. “I’m fine.”

  She pauses stirring the pot of pasta that she’s put on the stove. “You are not fine.”

  I cross my arms, preparing for the blow. “And what makes you say that?”

  The look on her face tells me that it should be obvious. “You live in a tiny house that has no room, you—apparently—don’t have a boyfriend, and for fun, you stand out in the hot sun and take pictures of nothing.”

  “I was taking pictures of the fountain, Mama.”

  “Yeah, a broken concrete fountain that doesn’t work. In an abandoned shopping complex.”

  I walk over to the couch and sit down. “I’m an environmental photographer. Just because you don’t appreciate it doesn’t mean it’s not valuable. Have you ever heard of Ansel Adams?”

  She huffs a sigh. “Your father and I just don’t understand. Why would you choose this? Why would you choose being alone in a city full of strangers instead of being at home with your family? Why would you choose something that is going to assure you’re alone for the rest of your life?”

  “Wait a minute,” I stand back up. “You think that because I’ve chosen to become a photographer I’m going to be single for the rest of my life?”

  “This isn’t what men want,” she spits. “They want women who love their families and can take care of a good home and have pets and be there when they get home.”

  “And so what?” My anger breaks open and my voice rises. “You know, I don’t care. I’ve spent so much time thinking that I was boring and average because of all of you. That’s all you ever told me I was. You told me I should stay home, never go anywhere, and never try anything unique or adventurous. I followed your advice, and still, absolutely nothing I do makes you happy. Guess what, I just made a new discovery. It’s my life. I’m happy in my small house with no pets. I’m happy working in a photography studio and practicing my art. God forbid someone in the family be an artist. What I do, and what I want, have value, mama. I’m sorry you can’t see that, but I’m done letting you tell me that my life isn’t good enough just because it’s not the same as your life.”

  She stares at me like I’ve turned into a talking fish. I have no idea what she’s going to say next. I know she’ll have an answer. There’s not a time in my life when my mother hasn’t had a response to something that was said.

  There’s a knock at the door and I startle. It might be one of the neighbors. Maybe they heard me yelling and are checking to make sure everything is okay. “Saved by the knock,” I mutter under my breath. I open the door, putting a mental wall up to make sure I can deflect any well-meaning attempts to make sure we’re not murdering each other in here.

  But it’s not a neighbor. It’s Hudson.

  Hudson is here. He’s standing in a bright blue button-down that makes his eyes stand out even more by contrast, and he’s holding what might be the biggest bouquet of roses that I’ve ever seen. I don’t realize that my jaw has dropped open until I try to speak. “What are you doing here?” I’m absurdly glad to see him. Even after everything I told him about not being ready, his face is the most comforting thing in the world right now.


  “I wanted to prove to you that I want more than what we have right now. That I don’t care who you are outside the club.” He says that last part very quietly. “But I heard yelling. Are you all right?”

  I push the roses aside and wrap my arms around him. He’s surprised, but he hugs me back. “I’m so glad you’re here right now.”

  “Are you all right?” he asks again.

  “My mother and my sister are here,” I say softly. “I haven’t told you anything about my family, but to say that we don’t get along might be an understatement.”

  Hudson smiles. “I’d still like to meet them.”

  “It’s your funeral,” I say as I step back and take his hand to pull him into the house.

  Catherine is standing in the hallway, gaping. I don’t know how to introduce Hudson. We’ve never really defined the terms. ‘Boyfriend’ feels too simple, and yet if I introduce him as my ‘lover,’ my mother will have even more of a fit. But Hudson takes care of it for me. He reaches out and shakes Catherine’s hand. “I’m Hudson Carlisle. It’s nice to meet you.”

  My mother steps out of the kitchen, and the height difference is comical. She’s even shorter than me. “And you must be Mrs. Everett.”

  “I am,” she says coldly. “Who are you?” Even though he’s just introduced himself.

  He gives her a dazzling smile. “I’m dating your daughter.”

  Catherine gives me a look. “I knew it.”

  My mother is still frowning. “It’s nice to meet you, Hudson. Unfortunately, you’ve come at a bad time. We were just having a serious discussion with Christine about her future, so I think it’s best if you come back another time.”

  “Mama,” I say. “This is my house. You can’t ask people to leave. Hudson, I don’t want you going anywhere.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winks at me, but I can see the worry in his eyes, the disapproval at the way they’re treating me.

  “Anything you were going to say to me, you can say in front of him.”

  She sniffs, offended. The only thing worse than her daughter having such a terrible life would be discussing our ‘dirty laundry’ in front of strangers. “No, thank you.”