Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce

by Rachell Nichole

  “Mason!”

  Still he avoided that one spot—the tight bundle of nerve endings that would send her over the edge in seconds. He lifted her legs from the floor and spread her thighs wider. She reached out to support her knees with her hands as she lay completely open for him. He spread her folds which were slick with his saliva and her arousal. He exposed her clit to the air, and her pelvis jerked.

  The small bead of cold whipped cream that he squeezed onto her clit made her sheath clench hard.

  Finally he fixed his mouth over her sensitive nub and sucked, giving her what she needed. He swirled his tongue against it once, and she screamed, her body convulsing. He pushed his hands beneath her to cup her ass and hold her closer as he continued his assault until she cried out a second time, spasming again and again. He lifted his head and kissed the inside of her thigh, and she opened her eyes, blinking in the brightness and looking down at him. He grinned, and she slipped off the table and into his waiting arms.

  Payback certainly was a bitch.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Amy, we have to get this love letter written. You have to stop distracting me,” Mason said. It was Sunday afternoon already, and he had to go to work in the morning. She kept distracting him with food and movies. She’d even made him play a few hands of gin. And of course, he was taking her every chance he could get. She was never very resistant to his charms. In fact, she was usually the pursuer. It was kind of nice to be the pursuee for once, but they had to focus.

  “I know,” she said, but she turned back to the television anyway. “Wait, I love this part.”

  Who knew a kindergarten teacher had such a sick sense of humor? He’d always loved a dark comedy, or comedy of most kinds, and Amy completely shared his tastes. She’d taken one look at his movie collection and pulled out an assortment of Guy Ritchie, Troy Duffy, and Tarantino movies. They’d been laughing ever since. But now it was time to get down to business.

  Her feet rested in his lap, and he tickled the bottom of one.

  She squirmed and squealed. “Hey, stop that.”

  He paused the movie. “Work first, play later.” And play they would. He couldn’t stop his mind from flooding with images of her naked body sprawled out before him, beneath him, above him.

  “Fine,” she said. She gave him her undivided attention. “What?”

  He tapped the pen against the pad of paper on the coffee table, and she looked at it, then back at him, a gorgeous blush tinting her cheeks. No doubt she was remembering the way he’d laid her out on the table and had her for dessert. Now he was too, and he couldn’t help the rush of hot blood that pooled in his groin. She smirked, knowing exactly where his thoughts had gone. She rubbed her toes against the front of his pants. Distracting as hell, but he wouldn’t let them get sidetracked again.

  “Letter.”

  “Right,” she whispered. Her voice was husky and full of the promise of naughty things to follow.

  “No. No sex until we’re finished.”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, but he didn’t let that discourage him. It was downright cute. How in the world did she control an entire room of four- and five-year-olds when she could barely stay on task? Didn’t she have to plan ahead, at least a little bit?

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” she said.

  “Sorry, I was just wondering how you controlled a classroom.”

  “I beat the children.” She smiled.

  “No, seriously. You have to be able to plan. The amount of time Mom has spent on lesson plans over the years is astounding.”

  “I never plan more than a few weeks ahead. Ever.”

  Something in the way she said it made his chest tight. There was more to this than her being a free spirit and living in the moment for the sake of spontaneity. He set the pen down and captured her foot. She didn’t look ready to elaborate, but he wanted to know. He massaged up and down, and she sighed, relaxing into his touch. “How come?” he said after a moment.

  Indecision crossed her face. What could be so bad that she’d shut down so completely?

  “I don’t make plans. Not like that. Because you never know when life is going to come by and body slam your sorry ass into the pavement, then run you over with a bus. The last time I made any long-term plans…”

  Of course. Her mom. One of the first things he’d loved about Amy—her ability to be spontaneous—had actually been a defense mechanism. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He wanted her to voluntarily share that information with him. He stayed silent, letting her decide how much to tell him. What would it have been like growing up without one of his parents? He hated his dad for a lot of reasons, but despite how much he tried, he couldn’t really stop loving him either. If his mom had died, he didn’t know what his life would have been like the past fifteen years. Nothing like it had been; that was for sure.

  She blinked rapidly a few times, shooing the tears away before she spoke again. “The last time I made any long-term plans was for my thirteenth birthday. Mom was finally getting better. They’d beaten the cancer back. She was stronger; she was better. We knew it. It was like I could finally breathe again. After two years of constant panic and worry, of waiting for her to die, I felt secure. I could laugh. I could leave the house without being terrified she wouldn’t be there when I came back.

  “We planned a party. A huge one. I think she felt guilty for how much time I’d spent taking care of her. She tried to encourage me to go out, to have fun, but I could never leave her side for more than a few hours. Going to school had been torturous. So we planned this enormous bash, inviting family and all the friends I hadn’t seen in forever. It was two months away, and we spent hours organizing it. I looked forward to it for weeks. And three days before my birthday, she was gone.”

  Her voice broke on the last word, and he slid her feet off his lap. He moved closer to her on the couch and wrapped his arms around her as her tears finally fell.

  “So, no. I don’t plan. If you don’t plan ahead, if you don’t count on the future and you just take things one day at a time, you can’t get your heart ripped out when things go to hell.”

  What a sad way to live. He’d been envious of her live-in-the-moment attitude. Now he knew it trapped her from living the life she should. He couldn’t imagine what she went through every week with the kids, or the scramble she must have every few days trying to get lessons organized. Always terrified that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. That if she hoped for anything, it would only open her up to more pain.

  He rubbed her back, offering what comfort he could but not having a clue what to say. “Are you angry that your mother left you?”

  She stiffened in his arms. So not the right thing to say, apparently. How could he explain that wasn’t supposed to be an accusation? God, why had he pressed her for answers?

  “I think I would be, you know?” he said. “Because she died. I know it’s not like she chose to leave, like she wanted to ruin the family the way my dad did.” Not that this was about him. Damn. Why did all his smooth talk and ability to handle difficult situations go out the widow whenever he was around her?

  She shrugged.

  “That didn’t really come out right. I’m not trying to say your mom dying was anything like my dad being a bastard and ruining his marriage and his family. But he left us, ultimately, like your mom left you. And I’m angry with him. I’m so pissed I can’t even think about him without my blood pressure skyrocketing and my whole body going into meltdown. He’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. I think that’s what makes me so upset.

  “I’m angry with him, but it’s deeper than that. More raw. And kind of self-directed. Like how could I not stop it from happening? Why wasn’t I good enough to help them fix whatever was wrong? Why can’t I bring him back into our lives and make things like they were before? I feel powerless, out of control, completely at everyone else’s mercy.”

  She nodded
but continued to cry softly. She didn’t speak, and he just held on, waiting for the tears to slow. After a hiccup, she took a deep breath.

  “Yes. I’m angry with her.” She shuddered. “I’ve never said that out loud.”

  “It’s okay to be angry, Amy. Even if it doesn’t make any sense. Or makes you feel guilty. Some days I even have to fight being angry with Mom for letting him go. It’s completely irrational, and it makes me feel terrible, but every once in a while, I resent her for taking him from me.”

  She laughed, but it held no humor. “Sometimes I resent my dad for refusing to celebrate anything. Ever. That was the last birthday party we planned.”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  “It’s irrational to be mad at someone for dying. I know that. I know it. But…h-how could she have left me? How could she do that to us?” Her tone was frail. She had never really dealt with the feelings surrounding her mother’s death. The pain in her voice was too sharp, not dulled by years of acceptance. He wanted to help her make peace with her loss, but he didn’t know if he could.

  “You know as well as I do that if she’d had a choice, she never would have left you.” He slipped his hands to her shoulders, holding her back from him gently so he could look into her eyes. He had to make her see. Get her to believe him. He caressed the bottom of her chin until she gazed up with tears swimming in her hazel eyes. “No one who has a choice would ever leave someone as incredible as you.” Including him. It was too true, too close to what he’d been fighting against since she careened into his life, gunning for the cranberry sauce: he didn’t want to let her go. But she wanted her father happy more than she wanted him, and Mason was determined to give her what she wanted, even if it wasn’t him.

  “Then why? Why did she make me plan? Why did she make me hope she would be there for my birthday? For everything that came after? First dates, graduation, holidays. She wasn’t there. She was never there. And she’ll never be there. Not when I get married. Not to hold her grandchildren.”

  “She couldn’t have known that she wouldn’t be there.”

  “She knew. They both knew. I didn’t realize at the time, but my dad argued with her a lot those last few months. It was something I’d never seen before. They never argued. But he was mad about the party. I thought he was mad at me. That he didn’t want me to celebrate. Or something equally ridiculous. I think it was actually that he knew she was going to die, and they didn’t tell me. The party was supposed to be something for her to focus on, a future to look forward to. She probably thought she’d make it. At least for that. And he was terrified she was setting me up to get my heart broken.”

  She looked down, as if she couldn’t bear to see the pity on his face any longer. He coaxed her chin up again, forcing her to look at him and see the truth. He couldn’t pity her. She was too damned strong for that. She smiled weakly, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

  “She was trying to protect you by not telling you she would die. She probably figured having one more perfect day with you would be worth it. What would those last few months have been like if she had told you? How many hours did you spend having a terrific time planning that party?”

  Her eyes widened, and her bottom lip trembled. He brushed his thumb over it, whisking away a teardrop.

  “It would have ruined any time I had left with her.” Her voice was barely a whisper as her lips moved against the pad of his thumb. “Oh, God,” she said as a fresh wave of tears shook her body. He dipped his head to hers, touching his lips to her salty, wet ones. She tasted of tears, of pain, and of quiet joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted, pulling him down on top of her as she lay back on the couch. She opened her mouth, welcoming him inside. Taking the comfort he offered.

  He kissed her slowly, with care, licking first her bottom lip, then her top. His tongue dipped into her mouth, sliding against hers. He teased her one step at a time. He caressed her body as he focused all his attention on her. She arched into him, and he captured her breast in his palm. He kissed the tears from her face as he undressed her.

  His clothes quickly followed hers to the floor, and she was grinding against him, moaning his name. He kissed his way down her neck to her breasts, licking each one in turn. She lifted her hips.

  “Tell me what you need, baby.”

  “You,” she said. “I need you. Now.” She leaned down and grabbed his erection. He groaned, thrusting into her hand. She planted one foot flat on the couch beside his hip and angled him. He pushed home with one thrust, letting bliss consume them both.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amy cradled Mason’s head against her chest and kissed his hair, emotions still roiling through her. Why had it taken fifteen years and another person for her to realize what her mother had been doing all along? She could imagine how awful those last few months would have been with the truth looming over her. No wonder her parents had hidden it from her.

  It must have killed Dad to see her so excited, so relaxed, and sure everything was going to be okay, knowing it was all a lie. Knowing that soon he would have to bury his wife and watch his daughter’s dreams destroyed. Her throat was already raw from crying, and it burned with fresh tears. Mason must have sensed the impending cryfest. He shifted, kissing the edge of her right breast.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  She shook her head but knew he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

  He nipped her sensitive skin gently, and she jerked beneath him. “No lying,” he said. His voice was soft, though.

  “Okay, you’re right. I don’t really know what I’m feeling. It’s all jumbled together. I can’t believe you had to point that out to me. How could I have been so stupid?”

  “You were hurt and angry. It’s a hard thing to overcome when someone we’re supposed to trust and love lies to us. Even if their intentions are good.”

  She needed to focus on something else while she sorted through and tried to make sense of what was going on in her head. She wasn’t even sure she could name all the emotions individually.

  “Your father didn’t really have good intentions, lying to you about your mom,” she said. Like this, when she had her arms wrapped around him, with the comforting weight of his body against hers, she could talk to him openly.

  His body went rigid. She stroked his hair, and the familiar curls caressed her fingers.

  “Hey, this is a two-way street, you know,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. She wasn’t going to let him run away from his feelings about his dad any longer. If he could make her mine her heart and soul, dredging up such painful stuff from her past, and then help her deal with it, hold her while she broke down, she could do the same for him. Even though they had no future together.

  “It’s different. Completely different.” His voice was hard. Uncompromising. He didn’t want to budge. Didn’t want to let go of the anger he’d been using for years to cover up the pain of his father’s betrayal. She knew what it was like turning to anger instead of letting herself feel the loss. But if he wasn’t careful, the window of time he had to repair his relationship with his dad and save the one with his brothers would close, leaving him isolated from his family.

  If she could help prevent that, she would.

  She’d stuck around with her dad, taking care of him after her mom left, but she’d still sometimes let her pain get in the way of their bond. She would make an effort not to do that anymore.

  “Maybe so. But shutting him out like this—hating him, being angry with him, blaming him for everything—isn’t going to help you. It only hurts you. I’m sure not having you in his life sucks for your dad. Just like it sucks for me not having my mom in mine. But it doesn’t punish him for his wrongdoings. Not really.”

  He huffed, slowly relaxing against her as she continued to stroke soothing caresses through his hair, down his bare back. Comfort sex could go a long way to helping heal a wound, but only if it came complete with talking things out. She’d never opened up all the
ugliness inside her and put it on display for someone else to see. She hadn’t known how cathartic and freeing it could be. It had always terrified her before.

  “I…I honestly don’t know how to let it go. I don’t know how to even begin to forgive him.”

  “You don’t have to tell him. Not yet, not right away. Maybe not for a while. But you have to acknowledge that what he did was wrong, and that you can’t go back and change it. And you have to make a real effort to let go of the anger and forgive him. Not because you want to do him any favors. Not because you want to let him win or even because he deserves your forgiveness, because honestly he doesn’t. Do it because you deserve to not be angry and resentful anymore. Just like I do.”

  He nuzzled her chest between her breasts, the stubble of his cheeks grazing her. He shaved his goatee for work in the morning, but he’d let it grow out yesterday and today. She liked it better this way. With her he was a little wilder, a little more himself and less the slick ad man he projected to the rest of the world.

  “How’d you get so smart?” he said.

  “Years and years of surrounding myself with idiots.” She smiled.

  He shifted. “I hope you don’t mean me?”

  “Of course not.” She leaned down and kissed him. “It will take time. For both of us.”

  * * * *

  Amy’s hands shook as she placed the last fork into the drying rack. The past few days had gone so well, but her stomach was tied in knots. Mason took her fingers in his and lifting them to his mouth. He placed soft kisses on the pads.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s silly,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Not if it’s making you shake like this.” He pulled her closer. “Tell me.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. It fit perfectly there.

  “I’m just nervous about the interview tomorrow. I know I shouldn’t be. It’s just… Well, you know me. I haven’t planned that far ahead.” But it was more than that. If she got the job she wanted, she had no idea what her life would be like in six months. The idea terrified her. She’d have to make a plan. She knew that. But she didn’t know if she was ready.