by Virna DePaul
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I said.
Aimee grinned at me and reached down with one hand to stroke my cock. It felt so damn good that I struggled even as I closed my eyes to keep my knees from buckling. “I’m waiting, big boy.”
I didn’t need to any instructions after that. Lifting her up a bit more, I lined us up and then plunged upwards and into the soft heat of her channel, feeling her warm and comforting around me. Aimee hissed as I slid in and then wrapped her legs tightly around me and dug her heels into my ass.
I started rocking then, my hips pistoning on their own, her kisses fast and frantic on my cheeks and then on the hollow of my throat, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her nails dug in to the skin of my back, a bite that made the pleasure and pain mingle in my mind. Leaning down, I flicked my tongue over the dusty rose of her pert nipple. Then I wrapped my mouth over her areola and sucked it into my mouth. Aimee’s interest was as apparent as the pebbling spreading over her nipple, the tantalizing bumps I ran my tongue over as fast as I could even as I plunged into her.
Aimee was screaming by then and I could feel my balls grow tight as I worked hard to hold in my own orgasm. I wanted to make her feel good, to make her come first, and feel the passion of her climax sweeping over her.
“God, Corbin!” She shouted again, her nails digging in so tightly that I was sure she was going to draw blood. “Don’t stop, never stop.”
“Not gonna, darling,” I groaned, feeling the sweat pour over my brow. My rhythm increased, and I thrust against her down to my root, so deep that my balls slapped against her. She took all of me in, almost greedily, already accommodating me after our first night together. The first time had been eager but more gentle, this was raucous and loud.
It was everything we needed to forget the miscommunication between us.
We needed each other.
Aimee screamed again, and now her body was quivering around mine, the heat of her core seeming to contract around me as she climaxed. My body felt like it was made of pure lava, as if all of me was being consumed by heat and light and power. I came then too, finally releasing the pressure that had been consuming me for hours.
As I did, I lifted up my head to look into her eyes, to see the way her eyes were widely dilated, not quite focusing on anything as she recovered from her own orgasm.
“I could love you, Aimee,” I murmured. When I realized what words had come out of my mouth, I froze. What the hell?
It had been what I’d been thinking in that moment. Of course I’d be feeling close to her—we’d just had sex—but why had I said that? I’d confuse her. Confuse myself. We were just supposed to be a summer thing…
But that’s when it hit me, and hit me hard.
I didn’t want to just be a summer thing with Aimee.
I wanted more with her. At least, I wanted to move forward as if that was a possibility.
But did she?
Aimee blinked at me for a moment, then she whispered, “You said we had until the end of summer.”
“I did. Because that’s all I thought I wanted. All I thought I could have. But being back here with you…I want more. I think we could have more. I want to open myself to exploring that. Do you?”
She hesitated. Bit her lip. Then she rocked my world when she said, “I do.”
* * *
Aimee
I was smiling. I couldn’t help it. The light from the moon was faint, spilling like silver over the lines of Corbin’s torso, highlighting the tempting ripples of his abs. I felt a ripple of pleasure run up my spine as I stared at him. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d asked me if I had tomorrow off. When I said yes, he’d made me promise we’d spend the entire day in his bed, exploring each other’s bodies and stopping only to eat. I’d happily agreed.
A nightbird’s call outside the window caught my attention and I got out of bed to stare at the moonlit night. Across the watery bayou I could barely make out the roof peak of Evangeline’s, and far beyond that were lights from the town. I knew where one of the streetlights was located: at the corner of Main and Broad Streets, right above Reba’s Diner.
No, I corrected myself. It wasn’t Reba’s Diner any longer. In a few weeks, it would be Aimee’s Decadent Desserts.
In Miss Cecily’s folk tales, anything could happen and the bayou was magical. It sure seemed that way to me. In a few weeks I’d have my dream business, and Aimee’s Decadent Desserts would finally be open. Once, I’d hoped to go to culinary school and then business school. My dream had been to start my own online dessert business. I’d had images of my chocolate truffles being flown all over the world, of my cheesecakes being served in New York or Los Angeles. But my mother could never seem to keep herself out of trouble and Uncle Daniel needed extra hands at Evangeline’s. I’d done what I had to in order to survive. My dreams didn’t matter.
But now the dream of Aimee’s Decadent Desserts, tucked in the corner of Pontmaison, Louisiana, was about to take shape.
And even better? I had the possibility of everything working out between Corbin and I to look forward to. I wasn’t fooling myself that they might not. He said he could love me, that he wanted to be open to us being together for longer than the summer, but there were no guarantees. Moreover, my fears about him hurting me and me turning out like my mother hadn’t vanished overnight. But just as I’d seen he’d been telling me the truth earlier about leaving me that note, I’d seen the truth about him wanting to explore more with me.
I think it helped that he hadn’t said he loved me already. That he hadn’t made grand promises about our future. Instead, what he’d expressed was a desire for more, a willingness to try, and that seemed real. As real as the emotions I felt for him. And as long as we both continued to be honest and real, why couldn’t we have a shot at something special? We just had to take one day at a time.
And if things did work out? I’d have this amazing, incredible man to share my bed and life with.
And that was something worth taking a chance on.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Snuggled close to Corbin. Began to drift off.
And that’s when my cellphone rang.
I jerked up, my heart beating fast. Beside me, Corbin sat up, as well. Our gazes met, and I saw what I was thinking in his eyes. It was late. So late that if someone was calling my cell now, chances were something was wrong.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Aimee
Three hours later, I was sitting next to a hospital bed, staring at my mother who had been admitted with pneumonia. She’d been found passed out on the ground outside a performing arts center in the morning, and ended up being taken to the ER.
When Corbin and I arrived, we learned she’d been transferred to ICU. Corbin kept silent, as if letting me work out my worries and fears in my head. He’d sat in the hospital room with me until my mom had started to show signs of waking, then he’d kissed my cheek and said he’d be in the hall if I needed him. I knew he wanted to give me privacy because of what I’d told him about my relationship with my mom and the fact I hadn’t seen her in almost six months. It was sweet of him and I didn’t feel alone. His silent presence instead gave me strength.
“Mom,” I said when she finally blinked her eyes open. She was sitting up on the bed, with those oxygen tubes in her nose—a nasal cannula, if I remembered correctly—but at least she was lucid and awake. She was so thin, far thinner than I’d seen her six months ago or so at Christmas. Curled up there in her gown and under all the blankets with tons of leads and tubes coming off of her, she seemed so tiny and frail. It was as if we’d switched roles more than we ever had before, as if I was coming to a small child’s bedside.
“Mom?” I asked, sitting down beside her, taking her hand in mine. “What happened?”
She coughed and when she spoke, her voice was a wheeze. “It was that dumbass Dale. He’s with The Nightshots. Country-rock band, with a few hits on Billboard back in the day. He promised me he’d be with me forever. Then he went and found someone younger
. Prettier.” Tears formed in her eyes and she turned her face away from me. Between deep coughs and slow breaths using the oxygen tubes, she shared the rest of her story.
Apparently she’d had a fling with some drummer in a B-level band for a couple of months, but when he’d tired of her, he’d given her a bus ticket back to Pontmaison, which she’d promptly exchanged for a front-row ticket to his next concert. When his band had finished the concert, he’d grabbed a twenty-something bleached blonde and told my mom to beat it. My mother had ended up crying herself to sleep in the wet grass outside his van.
Sighing, I held her frail, bony hand as tightly as I dared. “It’s okay now.”
She sighed and glanced at me. “No, baby, it’s not okay. And I’m gonna do something about this…this obsession of mine. You know, chasin’ after men who remind me of your daddy.”
I frowned. Mom hadn’t ever acknowledged her pattern of chasing after musicians was an obsession before. Wasn’t the first step in overcoming a problem identifying that you actually had a problem? “You will?” I asked, cautious optimism creeping into my voice.
“I want to, baby,” she said. “When I came to in the hospital, it was…I didn’t see a light or some fiery pit, but it’s like some people say? You know? About how their whole life flashed before their eyes. I had me a moment like that. I thought about all the things I can’t undo, and I thought about you.”
“Mom, I know you’re struggling.” Granted she’d been struggling for over twenty-two years and left me to fend for myself for most of it, but she was trying. I had to support her in that. “It’s okay.”
“No it ain’t,” she said, wheezing again as she sat up a little. “I care about you, and I done you wrong. I…I should have told you about your father years ago.”
“I already know. He was some rocker you met at a concert. You never knew his name. He got you pregnant, and you never saw him again.”
“You don’t know. Your birth father wasn’t some random guy I hooked up with one night.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Baby, your father is Grandy Love.”
I gasped, shock hitting my midsection and radiating outward, down my arms and legs, making me feel weak at the knees. “Grandy Love, as in the lead singer for The Lovewilds? But that’s…they’re…he’s…” I sputtered to a stop. The Lovewilds were a hit band since the early eighties, still churning out record after record, still performing worldwide in sold-out concerts. They were big. Huge, really. Everyone knew them.
And the man who’d given me life was their lead singer?
And my mother had always known?
“You knew who my father was this whole time and you kept it from me?”
“I didn’t know who he was at first. That part’s true, honest.” She coughed violently and started to turn grey. I waited as she breathed in through her nose, sucking up the oxygen until she got her color back.
“So how’d it happen?” I asked.
“I was seventeen, following around another band. I had a fake ID and looked years older than I was. I met Grandy at a bar outside Nashville, listening to the music comin’ through the window of the bar. He told me his name was Grant. We started talkin’, then dancin’, then…” She coughed and I waited until she could catch her breath and finish. “I spent three weeks with that man. He thought I was a twenty-one-year-old from Tulsa, Oklahoma, ’cause that’s what my ID said. I thought he was some roadie. I swear I didn’t know who he was at first. Then, when I got pregnant…”
“He dumped you because of me,” I said, and now my throat was so dry that it was almost hard to keep carrying on.
“No. I never got a chance to tell him about you. I was going to, but when I went to the hotel room where we’d been holed up, he was gone. That’s when I found out who he really was. I was shocked. So very shocked.”
I knew the feeling. “So what did you do?”
“What could I do? I was dead broke and pregnant, so I came back to Pontmaison and had you. But I couldn’t help myself. I was deeply in love with him. So I kept track of his tour schedule, and a year later, when he was close enough to Pontmaison, I took off to find him again. I guess I thought if he knew about the baby we could be a family.”
“Did you find him?” I racked my brain, trying to recall any tabloid stories I might have read about the man, but came up blank. I knew his name, knew his music, but nothing else about the man.
Her downcast eyes said it all. “He’d gotten married,” she said. “He had a wife who’d just had a baby girl. I wasn’t about to destroy someone’s family. I came home to Pontmaison without a daddy for you, and instead with a broken heart. It’s never healed.”
Compassion built, then surged through me. She’d been what, seventeen when she fell in love with him? A child, really. Squeezing her hand tighter, I kissed her forehead, ignoring the fact I had a sister out there somewhere and a father who knew nothing of me. They meant nothing to me. But my mother…as much as she’d done me wrong, I still loved her. And she’d always loved me. “Momma, you don’t have to worry yourself anymore about this. It’s been over twenty years. I get it.”
“No, you don’t because I am sorry. It crushed me to lose him. He was the love of my life, and then he was gone. I didn’t cope the right way, just kept trying to ease the pain by chasing after other musicians, trying to replicate what I once had with him. Love hurts. It chews you up and spits you out with no remorse.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said, then regretted my harsh words.
She made a face. “It’s true, baby. Love makes you do dumb things. I should know. I left you too many times to count because of love. Messed up your life somethin’ awful. I never should have done that.”
“Maybe not,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive her for acting like a child my entire life, but I was willing to try. “But maybe we can start over. Where are you living now? What are you doing for work?”
“Nowhere, and nothing. But when I’m released, I’m gonna come back to Pontmaison. See if my older brother will let me work at Evangeline’s. I’m actually a really good waitress.”
“Mom—”
“Look, I love you and I didn’t do right by you. It’s time I was a better person for you, and for myself, too,” she said, easing back down onto the covers. “I’m gonna be better, baby. I won’t make you a false promise, but I will say I think I’ve finally grown up.”
I smiled at her. She’d made promises before, but this time did feel different. She’d never mentioned anything about my father before, never been so honest. Even as I stood and left her dozing, I hoped she could get through all of this and promised myself I’d do everything in my power to be by her side.
Corbin smiled up at me when I walked into the hallway and saw him sitting in a chair a few feet away. Close in case I’d needed him. His brown eyes were like pools of dark chocolate that I wanted to lose myself in forever. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure how to answer him. How did you tell someone you’d just discovered your father was a famous rock star, and that he didn’t even know about you? Telling Corbin about my past was something I’d have to do, but not now. Not in the middle of a hospital, surrounded by nurses and hospital staff, half of whom kept ogling Corbin. I mean, the guy was attractive, yes, but did people really think it was okay to stare?
I realized Corbin was waiting for my answer. “I’ll be okay,” I demurred.
“What about your mom? Will she be fine?”
I nodded. “She needs to rest and lots of antibiotics, but she’ll be okay. She’s resting now, and I’d like to come back to see her tomorrow but after that.” I shrugged, still unable to believe how things were turning out. “She’s coming home to Pontmaison, actually. Wants to work at Evangeline’s.”
Corbin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “That’s a good thing, right? It will take some of the load off you if you don’t have to keep pinch hitting for Beth every time she gets sick.”
&nbs
p; I found it sweet that he already knew the pulse of Pontmaison. For a moment, I allowed myself to picture what it would be like if he didn’t leave at the end of the summer. I could see the two of us renovating the upstairs unit over the bakery. Corbin could have the back bedroom as his office and could write all his music there. I’d get up early and bake, then we’d close shop at five and crawl all over each other. He’d leave town every once in a while if any of his musician friends needed him, like that friend of his, Jason, had up in Chicago. And when he’d return home to me, I’d have his favorite huckleberry pie waiting.
“We’ll see,” I said quietly.
“I’m glad,” he said, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. “Now, let’s get you back to Miss Cecily’s. I believe we had plans to stay naked in bed all day, right?”
I entwined my fingers with his and giggled. The tension from learning about my birth father eased from my body, replaced with something warm and delicious that flooded my veins. “That we do.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Corbin
I’d undressed Aimee down to her bra and panties and had covered her with kisses, but she seemed distant. Withdrawn. Leaning back against the headboard on my bed, I backed off, and stroked her forehead. “What’s going on inside that sweet head of yours, Aimee my angel?”
She shook her head, those long, dark curls of hers tumbling over her naked shoulders. “I know, I’m distracted. It’s not you, it’s—”
“Me,” I said, finishing her cliché. “Tell me.”
A long, deep sigh emanated from somewhere deep within. “My mom shared something with me today. Something important. A secret about my father.”
Leaning forward, I placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to. I’m here, though.”
She toyed with a strand of her hair, staring off into space. I wasn’t sure she’d open up again, but she heaved a deep breath and started speaking. “I always knew my birth father was a one-night-stand. Some random rocker my mom met and never saw again. She didn’t even remember his name. Supposedly,” she added harshly.