Southern Girl Series Bundle: Bohemian Girl, Neighbor Girl, Intern Girl

by Georgia Cates

  The works.

  Mrs. Beckman—Kit—went all out. Cracker Barrel has nothing on this woman’s dinner table.

  “Porter, how did you and Frankie meet?”

  “Her father came to work for Iron City when we opened the doors. He’s our warehouse manager.”

  “You’ve known each other for years and it just now struck you to be interested in one another?”

  “Prior to her walking into my office for an interview, we hadn’t seen each other in three years.”

  Kit laughs. “I’m guessing you gave her the job.”

  “It’s actually an internship. But yes, I gave her the position.”

  “What kind of internship?”

  “She’s a graphic designer with a minor in marketing. She’s helping out in my department for the summer.”

  “What does your dad think of you dating the boss?”

  Shit. Porter’s sister could have asked me anything in the world. Any. Damn. Thing. And she asks me that?

  “My dad’s very fond of Porter.” It’s not an answer to his sister’s question, but it’s also not a lie.

  “What is a fucking cradle robber?” Bennett asks, wearing a mischievous grin as he looks at Porter and me. Little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

  Reagan gasps. “Bennett! Where did you hear that?”

  “Uncle Porter. I heard him tell Frankie that he’s a fucking cradle robber.”

  Reagan narrows her eyes at her brother. “You know you can’t say those words in front of him. He repeats everything.”

  “I know and I wouldn’t have if I’d known he and Callan were standing there listening.”

  “Callan heard you say that too?” Reagan sighs. “Boys, that is a bad word and we don’t say it.”

  “Uncle Porter said it.”

  “Well, he’s in big trouble with me, and you will be too if I hear you say that word again. Do you understand?”

  Bennett nods and picks up a piece of bacon. No shits given that he just outed his uncle as a fucking cradle robber in front of the entire family.

  But I don’t think Porter gives a shit either. He doesn’t appear to be worried about it, so I guess I’m not either.

  “Nana, can I spend the night?”

  “I don’t mind if it’s okay with your mom and dad. But you know that means Callan stays too.”

  “Can we, Mama?”

  “I guess so. But you have to be good for Nana. She gets tired a lot easier now.”

  Bennett smiles. “Me and Callan will be good.”

  I’ve seen that shit-eating grin a million times in my little brothers. This kid has zero intentions of being good.

  15

  Porter Beckman

  “I assume this is not how this bedroom looked when you grew up here.”

  “Definitely not.” I point to my former wall of women. “This whole wall was covered in posters of sports cars… with near-naked girls lying on the hoods.”

  Frankie shakes her head. “Sounds about right.”

  “My bed was against that wall… and I had nudie mags shoved between the mattresses. I’d take them out at night after everyone was in bed, and I’d jerk off while I looked at them.”

  She giggles. “Ah, back in the olden days before everyone could watch porn on a smartphone.”

  “What can I say? I am an old-ass cradle robber.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe your nephew ratted you out at dinner.”

  “I can. I told you not to be fooled by the cuteness. Those boys are mean little shits.”

  “I believe you.”

  I go to our shared overnight bag and take out a pair of sleep pants and my toothbrush. “Do you want in the bathroom first?”

  “No. You’re quicker than me.”

  “Did you bring something sweet to wear like I asked?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck yeah. I can’t wait to get inside her. “I’ll be lightning fast.”

  Frankie comes out of the bathroom wearing a ballerina pink gown and matching robe. It’s sweet and romantic and tame. Just what I wanted to see her wear tonight.

  “What do you think?”

  I’m sitting on the side of the bed, and I hold out my arms for her to come to me. “Me likey very much.”

  She stands between my legs and I push the robe off her shoulders, causing it to become a puddle on the floor. I lean forward and inhale deeply as I place a kiss between her tits. She has her very own fragrance. No other woman on this earth smells like Frankie.

  “Did you lock the door?”

  “I did.”

  I grasp the backs of her thighs beneath her gown and glide my hands upward until I reach her ass, squeezing her cheeks. “No panties?”

  “I didn’t see the need for them.”

  “Good call.”

  I tug the fabric of her gown down and suck one of her rosy pink nipples into my mouth. She pushes her fingers into my hair and pulls me closer as she arches her back and drops her head.

  “I want you in this bed with me.” I stand and toss the comforter out of our way. “Come here. I want you beneath me right now.”

  Frankie lies on her back, and her dark hair spills all around her. I lower myself on top of her, bringing our mouths together. Our kiss is slow and soft. “I swear I could kiss you all night long and be happy.”

  “Maybe so but that’s not why I came to bed without panties.”

  “I know exactly why you came to bed without panties. You want some magic.”

  “After five days without any, I would not turn down some magic.”

  I push her gown up and kiss the top of her pubic bone. I hear her panting as I inch my mouth closer to the spot where she wants it—where she needs it most. Her legs are trembling when I push them apart. I press my nose against the top of her slit and inhale deeply. “I’ll never get enough of this sweet smell.”

  My mouth is hovering between her legs, but I don’t lick her. Not yet. I want her to feel my warm breath there. I want the anticipation to make her writhe. And she does.

  She lifts her hips so her pussy rubs my mouth. “Come on. Don’t tease me.”

  I butterfly kiss her drenching wet center before sliding my tongue up the middle. Her breathing increases as she rocks her pussy up and down my mouth. “That’s so good, Porter. So good.”

  I flatten my tongue against her and slowly lick her core up and down because I know how much she loves that. She rocks her pelvis harder, and I slide two fingers inside to rub her inner vagina. “I’m so close.”

  I stop licking and suck her clit. Frankie fists my hair and lifts her hips to thrust her pussy harder against my face. “Ohh… ohh. That’s it. Right there.”

  She goes limp and releases my hair. Her breathing deepens and slows, a contrast to the panting a moment ago.

  I lick her once more to collect the last taste of her orgasm before I crawl up her body. When we’re face-to-face, she grasps my chin and kisses me hard. “I have missed that.”

  “Me too.”

  I push my sleep pants down my legs and settle between Frankie’s thighs. She brings them up and parts them wide for me to get closer. I’m hard and ready against her drenched entrance when she lifts her hips and coaxes my tip inside. My girl rocks her hips, and it’s all the invitation I need. I slide my remaining length into her until I’m as deep as I can be in this position.

  I guess this means we’re done with condoms. Fine by me if we never use them again.

  I’m sliding in and out of Frankie, and the headboard hits the wall with every thrust. “We’re being too loud. Your parents are going to hear us.”

  I trail kisses up her neck until my mouth hovers over her ear. “I don’t care.”

  “I do.” Her hands leave my back and she runs her fingers through my hair. Her nails gently scrape my scalp and goosebumps form all over my body. “I don’t want them to know we’re doing it.”

  I slow my thrusts and the headboard behaves. “Better?”

  “Much.”

/>   My hands find hers and I bring them above her head where I lace our fingers together. She opens her eyes, and they watch mine as I move above her. I want to tell her how she makes me feel, but I’m so close to coming. Right there on the edge. I don’t think I can talk right now.

  “RAAAWR!”

  “Rawr.”

  Bennett’s roar comes first and Callan’s is a soft echo of his brother’s.

  Little. Fuckers.

  Frankie and I both jolt—and she screams—from the shock of hearing and seeing Bennett and Callan next to my bed like a pair of little sociopaths.

  Bennett bursts into laughter and Callan imitates his brother. “I got you good, Uncle Porter.”

  I scramble to find my sleep pants under the covers and yank them on. “Boys, you’re in so much trouble.”

  “Porter. What happened?” my mom asks from the hallway while knocking on the door.

  I march to the door, open it, and point at Bennett and Callan. “They happened.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They were hiding in my room and jumped out to scare us.”

  “I scared him good, Nana. Porter was on top of Frankie doing this.” Bennett does a stellar job of thrusting his pelvis to demonstrate what he saw me doing to her. “He looked like Casper when he’s humping somebody’s leg. But he stopped when I said RAAAWR because I scared him so bad.”

  “I bet you did, Benny.” My mom chuckles and uses Bennett’s shoulders to steer him toward the door. “Okay, boys. Out of Uncle Porter’s room. He and Frankie had a long drive this evening. They need their rest.”

  Bennett and Callan take off like a pair of bats out of hell. “They did the same thing to Gabe and me about a month ago. We thought they were in bed but they were hiding in our closet. Scared the shit out of me. I swatted their little asses good.”

  “Apparently not good enough. Reagan has got to do something with them, Mom. They’re only six and four, and they’re out of control.”

  “I’ve told her she and Clay have a problem on their hands, and it’s only going to get worse as the boys get older. They think they know more than I do about raising children.”

  “Discipline now or visit them in jail later. Her choice.” I’m not a parent but I strongly believe that discipline is necessary for any person to become a contributing member of society.

  “Don’t say that to her. She will go ballistic.”

  I love my nephews but they sometimes make it very difficult to like them. And that’s unfortunate.

  “Goodnight.” Mom winks and leans in for a kiss. I turn my face so she kisses my cheek rather than my mouth. “Carry on.”

  I shut the door when she’s gone and lock it. Again.

  Frankie pulls the sheet over her face and groans. “Oh my God. That was the single most humiliating moment of my life. I’m not even kidding. I sleep farted in class when I was in the tenth grade, and it wasn’t that embarrassing. I want this bed to open up and swallow me.”

  I slide under the covers, so we’re both under the sheet. “It’s okay. We’re dating. My mom isn’t surprised to find out we’re having sex.”

  “She might expect us to have sex but probably not when I’m a guest in her house. She probably thinks I’m a big ole slut.”

  “I promise you she does not think you’re a slut. She likes you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know my mom. And because she winked at me when she kissed me goodnight and told me to carry on. She wouldn’t have said that if she was mad or upset.”

  Frankie throws the covers back. “Your nephews heard me orgasm. That’s sickening.”

  “Well, at least you got to come. That fucking RAAWR in my ear put an end to me getting off. My cock went down like a deflating balloon. And I was so close too. Right on the edge.” Those kids are like a double dose of limp dick.

  “I’d offer to finish you off but I’m done. Your nephews are mood killers.”

  “It’s okay. The little cockblockers killed it for me too. I’d probably have flashbacks of the RAAWR if I tried to get it up again.”

  She rolls onto her side, and I drape my arm over her body when she backs up and nestles against me. “This is enough for me, baby. Just holding you.”

  I think I could stay this way with her forever.

  16

  Frankie Dawson

  “I’m glad you got to meet me while I still have my hair. While I still look like some semblance of myself.”

  Kit has a beautiful headful of blond hair. It’s a shame she’s going to lose it. “Have you decided to cut it or wait and see what happens?”

  “I don’t know. What did your mom do?”

  That day is still fresh in my mind. “She chose to cut hers. She felt like the transition from long hair to no hair would be less abrupt if she went short first. And it was more practical to lose short hair rather than chunks of long. And let me tell you, she went down to the salon and had them style it into the sassiest little pixie cut I’ve ever seen. It was adorable. When her hair grew back, she chose to keep the pixie cut rather than let it grow long again. It looks great on her.”

  “I’m already seeing a little come out. When should I expect the rest to fall out?”

  It’s been almost two weeks since her first treatment. “It’s different for everyone but probably later this week. Maybe early next week.”

  Kit stares into her coffee cup. “It’s inevitable. I should just do it.”

  “Only when you’re ready.”

  “I don’t have any other choice but to be ready. If I can get an appointment today, will you go to the salon with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Porter comes into the kitchen, still wearing last night’s sleep pants but he’s added a T-shirt to his attire. His hair resembles a rooster’s comb the way it’s sticking up in every direction.

  He comes up behind me and grasps the sides of my face, planting a kiss on the top of my head, bringing a broad smile to Kit’s face. “What’s wrong with you? You never get up before me.”

  Well, if Kit didn’t know we spend the night together, she does now.

  “I don’t know. I woke up at six and smelled coffee, so I got up.”

  Porter goes to the coffee maker and pours a cup. “You probably couldn’t sleep because you were having nightmares about those two little shits popping out from under the bed like a scene from a Stephen King movie. I ought to go into their bedroom and roar at their asses this morning.”

  “Don’t you dare. Frankie and I are enjoying our coffee and our conversation. The peace and quiet will come to an abrupt halt when they get up.”

  “What time is Reagan coming to get them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not putting up with them showing their asses today. They can behave or she can come get them and take them home to act like heathens.”

  One thing’s clear. He isn’t a fan of children misbehaving.

  “Porter…”

  “I’m not kidding, Mom. We came to spend time with you. Not babysit Reagan’s kids so she and Clay can take it easy.”

  “She’s going to need to come get them early because Frankie and I have plans for today. We’re going to the salon. She’s going to help me choose a haircut.”

  “You’re going to cut all of it off?”

  “Most of it.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “My hair is going to fall out soon—either this week or the next. It’s better to cut it before it starts. This way, I can get a cute haircut and at least feel good about myself for a little while.”

  “I’ve never seen you with short hair.”

  Fear. Sadness. Concern. Porter’s expression is a mix of all three. Kit doesn’t need to see that. Not when she’s working toward being in a positive place.

  I lift my brows and nod at Porter. “Your mom’s gonna look sassy with a pixie cut. It’ll be cute.”

  He forces a smile. “Better not get too sassy.”
/>
  The news of Kit’s cancer is still fresh for Porter. It’s understandable that he doesn’t know how to handle these issues in the most positive way for her. There isn’t a guidebook for how to deal with cancer. But I’m going to be by his side—doing whatever I can—every step of the way.

  The hairdresser applies a little pomade throughout the top of Kit’s hair and makes it spike at the crown. “What do you think?”

  Kit inhales deeply and releases her breath slowly. She smiles when she reaches up to touch her short locks but her pleasant expression doesn’t mask the sadness in her eyes. “I like it.”

  I don’t know Kit so I can’t tell if she really does, or she’s just saying that.

  “It’s spunky. I love it.”

  “Well, I have always been a little spunky, so I guess it fits me.”

  We leave the salon and she pulls down the sun visor and inspects her hair in the mirror. “I’m sixty-two years old. You’d think I’d be over caring so much about my appearance.”

  “A woman should always care about her appearance, no matter her age.”

  “Gabe likes my hair long. That’s why I’ve never cut it above my chin.”

  Gabe and Kit have been married a long time. It’s sweet that she still wants him to find her attractive.

  “My dad liked my mom’s hair long too, but I think he prefers it short now.”

  “How old is your mom?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “Thirty-eight? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  She chuckles. “Well, I guess Porter is a cradle robber. How old did that make you when you met him?”

  “I was sixteen.”

  “And he was twenty-five. That shit-ass wasn’t robbing the cradle back then, was he?”

  I love hearing her call him shit-ass. “Absolutely not. I had a huge crush on him, but that’s as far as it went.”

  “You’ve liked Porter for a long time.”

  “Five years.” Almost a quarter of my life.

  “He looks happy with you. I’m glad you’re back in his life.”