Cohen, already keyed up from all the craziness of this whole weird lunch, jumps all over that passive aggressive tongue click. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing!” our mother exclaims, shaking her hands. She gestures for Whit to sit.
Whit shakes her head and tries to edge out of the crazy family drama she’s become accustomed to recognizing. She and Deo manage to show up for Rodriguez get-togethers more than I do, so she can smell Rodriguez trouble from a mile away.
But Mom ladles her a bread bowl of soup and offers it with an outstretched hand, upping the ante. Now Whit won’t just be leaving. She’ll be turning down food. Knowing what a cardinal sin that is in this funhouse, Whit takes her bowl and sits obediently.
My mother continues, “It’s just that opals are such bad luck.”
Maren blanches and folds her hands tight in her lap. Cohen pulls Maren closer. Whit seems to be considering chipping a tunnel under the table with her stiletto heel. I give her a look that lets her know I’ll be second in line if she gets an escape hatch going.
“What the hell, Mom,” Cohen hisses, draping a protective arm over Maren’s shoulders.
“Cállate la boca!” Dad barks, pissed that the golden son swore when he was talking to Mom.
“It’s nothing.” Mom waves her ladle at Maren, who seems to fold into herself like the saddest origami ever. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, corazon. It’s old wives tales, I’m sure. It was silly to bring it up.”
“It’s just…my grandmother left the opals to me,” Maren says, her voice like a church mouse’s. “My mother got the emeralds. My sister got the garnets.”
“Garnets!” our mother exclaims, holding her hands out like Maren finally gave the right answer. I grimace at how she’s oblivious to her new official role as ‘crazy, overbearing mother-in-law.’ “Those are nothing but gorgeous! Maybe there’s time to get those?”
Whit clears her throat. “The opals are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I swear, they’re like otherworldly. Like they should be elven jewelry. Or something.” She looks at my parents, gaping at her like she’s speaking another language——technically, she’s speaking Geek pretty fluently, but whatever.
Cohen grins like he wants to high five her or something equally lame and appreciative. “I’m sure they’re gorgeous. And nothing could possibly bring us bad luck on our wedding day. Could it?” He casts accusatory glances at Mom and Dad.
Mom takes a giant spoonful of soup and murmurs what could be construed as “no, nothing.”
Dad lets out a long, dissatisfied harrumph.
Maren offers a hopeful, “The soup is amazing!” which we can all tell is a desperate attempt to change the damn subject.
No one brings up the furniture store or the importance of a woman’s education or old wives’ tale for the rest of the terse, strangled meal. The instant Maren sips at her last spoonful, Cohen is on his feet.
“Well, we better get out of here. Maren and I have so much to do if we’re going to be ready for the big move after the wedding. C’mon, doll. I need to get you home. Now.”
It’s almost uncomfortable watching the primal need radiate off Cohen when he looks at Maren in her tiny little dress that’s flowery and sweet, but short, tight, and so damn sexy all at the same time. There’s this way he puts his hands on her hips and leans close, like he’s a wolf catching the scent of his prey. Maren blushes and bites back a smile——the kind of smile Jess had on her face when she got to my place last night ready for some action. I’m surprised to see it flickering off my brother and Maren, so damn hot, it practically crackles the paint off the walls.
Maybe what they say about those button-down types is all true. Maybe my boring, responsible brother really does rock his wife’s-to-be world.
Maybe.
Whit is next to stand, and I take my cue from her. “This was amazing. Thank you. Deo will be so jealous I got to have lunch here. I think he told me Marigold was bringing some of her zucchini rolls to the shop.”
There’s a general shudder that my mother only allows because she knows we all love Marigold so much. But all the love in the world can’t change the fact that she’s the most heinous cook who ever entered a kitchen, and she refuses to back down and stop making things for all of us to eat.
Her husband Rocko gets all the benefits of a sexy as hell, whip smart, sweet, funny woman in his bed and life. But I do not envy that man his meals. Not at all.
Maybe I could get Jess to give her lessons someday.
“Let me make him a container!” Mom hops up and goes to the kitchen. When she comes back, I take the container, kiss her cheek, wave to my family, and walk Whit out to her car.
“Holy tenseness in there!” She slumps against her door, pulls a little gold tube out of her purse, and puts on a fresh coat of bright red lipstick. “I don’t know if my nerves can handle this wedding crap. I love your mother so much, but she’s making this whole process deranged. I guess I lucked out having Marigold as my mother-in-law. No offense.”
I lean next to her. “None taken. Just be glad you missed my father’s Old World ‘women belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen’ speech. Which was after he tried to guilt Cohen into staying part time with the furniture store and before Gen and Adam got into a huge door-slamming fight.”
“No he didn’t!” Whit snaps the lid on her lipstick and opens her eyes wide. “How can he still get away with that? Your sisters are, like, the strongest, most independent women ever.”
“I know. He loves to pretend it’s slowly killing him.”
“I didn’t even get to see Gen and Adam before they left…” Whit’s voice slows down when she notices their Jeep still parked in the driveway.
“They never did,” I explain. “Gen went old school and ran to her room. Door slamming and everything.”
Whit’s laugh is stilted. “I bet Adam talked her down and they’re, ahem, making up right now. Wow. You guys…wow. I love every one of you, but you are a fiery bunch for sure. Hey, I need to get home. Ryan and Deo are still kinda green after their whole fiasco last night.”
“You going to nurse them?” I ask, kind of shocked.
“Nah.” Whit’s dark eyes sparkle with pure wicked glee. “Hattie and I are going to make them take us out for huge amounts of sushi with lots of Saki on the side. Then maybe some crazy rides at the fair. Something with a lot of spinning.” She twirls her fingers and laughs a true villainess laugh.
“Damn, girl. Remind me not to piss you off.” I start to my car.
“Enzo!” Whit calls. I turn. “Hattie says you have an in with a baker for the cake?” She raises one dark eyebrow like she knows.
“Maybe.” I spin my keys around on my finger. “Why?”
“No reason.” She ducks in the car and rolls down her window. “Just thinking about how you’re probably getting some hot crossed buns tonight!”
“You’ve been talking about sex with Marigold again, haven’t you?” I yell as she backs out and waves goodbye, her laugh ringing out loud and clear.
It makes me feel stupidly good. It’s like a rite of passage in the Rodriguez-Beckett world: once Marigold starts ragging on you with her crazy sex euphemisms, you know love is in your cards and you may just have the luck to make it last——like Whit and Deo, Cohen and Maren, Genie and Adam.
I’ll make sure I bump into Marigold at the wedding to get a decent ribbing. Even if Jess blushes a little over it, so what? Luck is luck, and I’m going all the way with this girl, so I’ll need every damn shred I can collect and cling tight to.
I head home to get ready for Jess, a little nervous about bringing her to meet my overwhelming, crazy family and hilarious, over-the-top friends. I try to picture us all together, and it works. In my head, Jess fits in and adds a needed dose of calm to our general crazy.
SEVEN
She smells like frosting when she comes through the door.
“Bakers have gotta be the only people who don’t need t
o shower when they come home from work,” I say, taking her in my arms. Her tiny body is heavy and her eyes droop sleepily.
“But I do need a shower,” she says around a yawn. “I’m sticky. And gritty. I feel like I spent the day on a beach. With sugar instead of sand. I feel gross.” She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls back, looking at me. “Wow.”
“Wow what?” I ask, swaying side to side with her like there’s music playing. I want to dance with this girl. I want to have sex with her. I want to laugh with her in the dim of my room and talk about every damn thing that crosses our brains, stupid and serious, until our words turn into the deep breathing of sleep.
“Wow, you are so damn handsome. How were you even single long enough to meet me?” She slides her hips against mine and lets her hands drop down along either side of my spine.
“Funny you ask. It was just before I got this job I’m working now——this gig with a band——and I was dating an assortment of ladies who were from the, uh, grittier side of LA.”
She giggles and tugs up on the hem of my shirt, then lets her fingers work under the waistband of my boxer briefs. “So you had a harem? Of what? Showgirls and dancers?”
“Bingo.” I dip my head and catch her bottom lip between my teeth. There’s a shiny layer of sugar dabbed on it, and I take my time sucking it off. She drags her hands to the front of my pants and flicks the button open. “I was in over my head,” I say, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “And these girls were too much for me. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.” She shakes her head and tugs down my zipper. “I’ve never been a bad girl.” Her hand pulls back suddenly and she furrows her eyebrows and her lips tremble hard.
“Hey. Jess. Hey.” I catch her under her chin and tilt her head up. Her dark eyes are flat with that sad look I hate but keep catching flashes of. “I was teasing you, doll. I mean, I did date some crazy girls, but there’s a reason I switched gears and went after someone like you.”
“Enzo——” she starts, but I cut her off.
“C’mon. That was shitty of me to bring up anyone else when I have you here. Maybe I just like the idea of making you jealous.” I quickly flick the buttons open, and push it down off her slim shoulders. “Maybe I get off thinking that you might be a little fiery and jealous about me.”
“Enzo, we need to talk,” Jess says, trying to tug my head back up as my mouth rides low between her breasts, kissing the swells that tremble out over the top of her sexy, lacy red bra.
“I want to,” I tell her, folding one cup back and sucking her nipple into my mouth. It goes rock hard under my tongue. I lick and pull at it until she arches her back and digs her fingers into my hair. “But I’ve been thinking about your body all damn day. You’re driving me crazy, Jess.”
She lets out a low, sweet moan and stops trying to pull my mouth away. I run my hands up her back and find the intricate clasp at the back, unhooking it with one quick press. The bra falls away and my hands squeeze and pull at her tits, warm, soft handfuls I can’t get enough of.
“Okay, okay,” she pants, her fingernails digging tiny indents into my shoulders. “But after this…oh, oh my god, Enzo…after this we talk. We have to…oh my…”
I let my mouth trail down her stomach and tug those tight jeans down to her knees. I nuzzle her through the thin lace of her panties, but I don’t want anything between us, even this silky scrap of fabric. I pull them down and press her against the wall, spreading her legs as best I can. This isn’t how we should do it. I should take her to the bed and strip everything off before I do this, but I can’t wait.
Jess is like a drug. The more I get of her, the more I need.
I kiss her and she whimpers loud. Her fingers tangle in my hair and she presses my mouth closer. One thing Jess told me during one of our many late night sessions was that she’d never really orgasmed all that often, and never from oral. That was like throwing down the ultimate challenge. One of my favorite exes told me that orgasm is all a mind game for a girl, especially when it comes to oral. It’s all about the buildup and the romance.
It’s part of my play right now. Jess knows that bed is waiting, and we’ll get to it. But first I want her to know that all day I’ve been thinking about her, and I’m not wasting the time it takes to get to the bedroom because I want her so fucking badly, I’m going to take her here and now. I want her to grab her morning coffee and look at this spot on the wall where her bare ass is pressed right now and think, ‘That’s where Enzo ripped my clothes off and went crazy on me the other night.”
And I want her to want it again.
I run my thumb until I find the bead of her clit and rub up and over, then all around it, until she’s begging for me to lick and suck on her. I let my fingers slip deep inside, definitely happy to find she’s slick and ready. Which means she’s been thinking about me.
Maybe she was even thinking about what we did in that bakery with that can of whipped cream while she was busy making her cakes and cookies today. Which is another reason it’s wise to diversify sexual locations. It keeps things varied and lets your imagination run wild when it comes to props and tools.
“Enzo,” she moans. “Please…”
I lick her: hard, long, sweet licks that make her knees buckle.
She moans and pants, throwing in a ‘god, yes’ or crying out my name once in a while, but mostly it’s just her ragged breaths. She seems to be concentrating hard, her fingers massaging my scalp and pressing my face tight to her body, so I’m buried in the sweet scent of her. I suck at her and rub with my fingers until she slides down the wall a little, lets out a soft sob, and shakes, hard, tight, fast, against me. When her body relaxes, I lay my head against her thigh and close my eyes, pushing her pants down lower, until they’re low enough for her to kick off.
She does. She’s naked.
I stand and grab her, one arm around her waist, one under her ass.
“Spread your legs wide,” I whisper into her hair: green apples and a hint of vanilla.
She does what she’s told and links her ankles behind my back, with this dainty movement of her legs that makes me grin. I press my boxers down and fumble for the condom I have in my pocket. She takes it out of my hand with shaky fingers and rolls it on. I fit the tip of my dick where my tongue worked her until she came hard. My eyes lock with hers, which look wild and excited.
“Are you ready to come again?” I ask her.
She nods and bites her lip. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy?”
I scoff. “Please. You hardly weigh anything.” Just to show off, I flex and bounce her in my arms.
She opens her mouth and laughs, then wraps her arms tighter around my neck. “I’m not that light.”
“You’re a feather.” I lean close and kiss her neck, a little too hot and hard. I might leave a bruise or teeth marks. I don’t care. I want to. I want to mark her as mine. “Which is surprising, since you work with sugar.”
“I like making sweet things for other people to eat,” she says.
I run my hand down her body and open her with my index finger, draw it back up to my mouth, and suck the sweet taste of her off of me. Her eyes fly wide open. “You got that damn right.” I fix the head of my dick right where it needs to be and press into her, slow and deep, giving her body a second to adjust to the angle while I grit my teeth at the tight, hot feel of her. She grabs her bottom lip between her teeth and sucks air in one long, harsh drag.
“Ready?” I ask.
She puts her hands on my shoulders and settles her back against the wall before she nods, eyes wide and rolling a little.
I pull out and press in slowly a few times, digging my heels into the floor and tensing my shoulders to keep from losing it. “Enzo?” Her lips are trembling. “Harder.”
I dip both hands under her ass, sinking my fingers into the soft skin and press her up higher so I can reposition. I thrust into her hard enough that her head knocks against the wall softly. She can’t bite back t
he smile. She arches her back so her tits push up into my face. I kiss along her jaw and down her neck, on the side of each sweet tit, and then my mouth sucks and pulls at each pebbled nipple until she’s moving too much.
“Hold still. I don’t want to drop you.” I drive into her, cupping her ass closer, pressing her body higher. She tightens her legs around my waist, pushing herself up and then dropping back down. Her fingernails tear at my neck and her teeth nip my shoulder as she bends her head down.
“You’re so big, Enzo. You’re so hard,” she whimpers.
The muscles in my legs shake as she spreads her legs wider, forcing me deeper than I was. Our moans lock and tangle and her hands come from around my neck to run down her own chest, teasing and pulling on her tits as I suck and kiss them.
I slide a hand down to brush over her, but she presses me away. “All I need is you. In me. That’s all.”
I lock my eyes to hers, drinking in their deep, warm color. I can see by the way they shine that she’s smiling, and that the smile is for me and about the way I’m making her feel right now. That smile alerts me to the fact that I make her happy, and I realize that’s all I need to be happy myself.
Damn, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to make her feel good.
I drive into her, both of us silent, eyes locked, bodies matched in a rhythm. She clings to me, tighter and tighter, until it’s like our two bodies meld into one. She’s tight around me, and then she twitches and her breath catches. She hitches up, fingernails digging at my neck, teeth biting into my arm, scream muffled by my skin, and I feel the wave of heat and wetness that clings her to me even tighter.
“Oh, babe,” I say, but she can’t hear me because she’s moaning and shaking in my arms, her head thrown back, her body loose and heavy.
I wrap both arms around her and pump into her, feeling like there’s too much skin to feel and kiss, too much of her to see and smell and fall into. Damn I’m falling so hard.
“Enzo,” she whispers into my ear. “No one ever made me feel like this before. You make me feel this way. You make me…I’m so…Enzo!”
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