Untamed: A fake relationship, small town romance (Gritt Family Book 3)

by Gabrielle G.

  “Yeah, but I’m your fake-pig. Come on, ruffle your hair a little and bite on your lips so my family will think you blew me hard or, you know, just blow me, and I’ll take care of your hair.” I grin, bringing my hand to my cock. “I’m hard, Ave. Please help me out.”

  “Are you already cashing in on your favor?” She puts her hands on her waist and lets her eyes fall on my dick. I thrust my hips a little for her to enjoy the show but stop quickly when I see anger morphing onto her face. No need for her to kick me in the balls.

  “Nah, not asking for it now. I might want you begging for it before I offer it to you, just so I’m sure you really want it. Now, show me your tits quickly so my hard-on can go down before going back downstairs to supper.”

  A sadistic smile spreads from her lips while she strolls slowly toward me. I want to see what Avery does when she bites back. I like to hurt as much as hurting.

  “You want your dick to be flaccid again?” I nod, knowing that if my brothers even suspect me being hard at the supper table, they will jump on the occasion to make fun of me ad vitam aeternam. Grabbing the back of my neck, she brings her mouth mere inches from mine. So close that I think she’s going to kiss me, but instead, she stops when our lips brush. I feel my cock stirring up, hoping to get inside her anyway it can.

  “Our parents used to fuck each other,” she says in a breath that sends two very different messages to my brain. One makes me want to claim her by pushing my tongue inside of her and making her come just by licking the inside of her mouth, and the other picturing Marybeth Dubois straddling my father. I shudder. Not the image I needed before sitting down with them at the table.

  She laughs, walking away, leaving me disturbed and panting but having succeeded in killing my erection without me seeing her tits.

  9

  Avery

  It’s not my first supper at the Gritts per se, but it’s the first one where I’m treated as a family member and not a guest.

  What difference does it make?

  It’s an Avery roast.

  It’s good to be treated like one of theirs, but it’s also very uncanny. Aaron is just looking at me intensively. Alane, his wife, jokes about Barnabas not having a crush on her anymore, which he dismisses saying he’ll always love her. Dex is smirking at my reactions, seeing under the layers of indifference with slight jealousy picking its nose. Luke teases me about liking the sick games his brother loves to play in bed. Chris laughs, knowing Barnabas is finally on a leash. Salomé keeps asking why we’ve been keeping it a secret for so long. And then there are our parents, organizing the wedding and naming the kids we’ll never have. When Alexis joins the table, I clear my throat and put down the rule.

  “Some,” I tilt my head toward my daughter, “might have more hopes than others. If you could please simmer your cazy around her, we’d appreciate it.” Barnabas reaches under the table and clasps my thigh. I throb against the seam of my pants, so I remove his hand. I know he’s just trying to be supportive for Alexis, but I can’t have him touch me much more, or I’ll want to jump his bones. I won’t get ‘Barned.’

  “Speaking of.” Dex, the son-in-law lawyer, opens his mouth. “Let’s talk about what your ex wants.” I don’t want to share it with the whole family. It’s none of their business, and I don’t like to burden my entourage with my problems. The fact I told Barnabas is exceptional for me.

  “The ass came by this afternoon and didn’t even look at his girl.” Barnabas disapproves. The table collectively groans.

  “And afterward Mommy and Banarbas kissed,” Alexis says from beside me. Barn and I freeze.

  “I thought you were sleeping, rascal?” Barn reaches behind me to tickle her. She giggles, squirming on her chair.

  “I wasn’t, but you were too comfortable, and I didn’t want to talk to him.” She shrugs. I never hid from Alexis who her father was. I stopped calling him ‘Daddy’ when it was clear he would never be in her life as such, but we still discussed him and his family, so she knows who Noah is.

  “Come here,” Barnabas tells her, and she climbs off her chair, too happy not to have to finish the broccoli on her plate. She jumps on his lap, and I see pain flash in his eyes, but he wards it away in a blink.

  “You never have to talk to anybody you don’t want to, Lex. Okay?” If my mother weren’t swooning from the other side of the table, I would certainly admit that seeing Barn with Alexis is adorable.

  “Except Mommy, you always have to talk to me,” I add, pinching her cheek.

  “Of course,” Barn says, resting his head on top of hers. “Now, let’s eat our broccoli so our moms are happy. Alright?”

  “But I hate broccoli,” Alexis wines.

  “Oh my, I’m sorry,” Bella says. “I didn’t know, Alexis. I’ll make you your favorite next time.”

  “What do you say?” I scold Alexis for being rude.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bella. I wasn’t very polite. I’ll eat the broccoli.” She pouts. Barnabas scoffs. “Lex doesn’t like broccoli, and you stop making it, but I disliked it for thirty-eight years, and I still have to eat it. How is this fair?”

  “She’s cute, Barn. You’re butt-face ugly!” Luke laughs.

  “Come on, as a kid, Barn was the cutest.” Alane comes to his defense.

  “Here we go again.” Salomé rolls her eyes and leaves the table to go check on her baby who’s sleeping nearby.

  “Alexis,” Aaron finally talks, “did you know Barnabas used to pee on my bed?”

  “Banarbas is so silly. He draws on his body and pees on beds.” She snorts uncontrollably, broccoli falling from her mouth.

  “Close your mouth and eat, Lex. If I have to eat that devil of a vegetable, you have to as well,” Barnabas reprimands her.

  “Luke,” she says, “did you see I also drew on Banarbas’ body.” She takes his arms and shows them the mermaid she scribbled earlier.

  “Wow, kiddo,” Luke exclaims. “If you ever want a job as a tattoo artist, give me a call, okay?” Alexis’ fork falls on her plate, and her mouth opens wide.

  “It’s a job?” She turns to Barnabas. “You owe me money!” She flattens her hand, waiting for payment. Barnabas scratches his head, thinking of something to say.

  “He paid you in Fruit Roll-Ups, honey, and a free nap on his chest.” Barnabas' shoulders relax, and Alexis nods, accepting my answer.

  “Aren’t they the cutest family?” my mother whispers not so discreetly to Bella. I look at Barn’s mother to see her with tears in her eyes and a proud look on her face. Closing mine, I push the thought of the disappointment looming above our heads when we’re going to fake-breakup.

  The rest of the evening is spent more or less the same way, Alexis running the show until she falls asleep on Barn’s lap. The siblings riling each other up, and the spouses piping in here and there, while their parents keep passing money to one another, having bets on different issues about their lives.

  Chris and Salomé talking about moving back here; Ridge slips a twenty into Bella’s palm.

  Aaron saying that his daughter Hailey has too many boyfriends; the twenty goes back to Ridge.

  Luke announcing he’s thinking of opening a third parlor maybe in Chicago; twenty is given back to Bella.

  Alane sharing that Adam, her son, still doesn’t know how to skate; the bill goes back to Ridge.

  It’s funny in a way, and Ridge and Bella would be my relationship goals if I ever have someone in my life. They are always careful around their family, but I heard Ridge once calling her “Sexy Saint,” in a deep sensual voice, and I thought it was the most adorable thing after fifty years together.

  At the end of the evening, Barnabas and I walk back to the barn. He’s carrying Alexis and winces from time to time depending on the movement he makes. I try again to ask him what’s wrong.

  “My back has been hurting more than usual today.”

  I open the door for him and see the moment he hesitates to take the stairs.

  “Pass her to me
and lie on the couch face down. I’ll give you a massage as payment for letting me stay here for free.” Sliding Alexis in my arms, his knuckles brush one of mine, and my nipples harden instantly. Giving him a massage is playing with fire, but I suspect his back pain is why he smokes so much, and I’m the one who asked him not to blow a blunt in front of my girl.

  After sliding Alexis in our bed, I make my way downstairs and stop in my tracks when I discover the living room plunged in darkness, except for candles lit everywhere, and a very bare-chested Barnabas waiting for me on the sofa.

  Of course, he took that as an invitation to get into my pants. And I am the first one to realize I probably need a dicking, but I wasn’t letting him dip in so easily. After what I felt poking at me in the guest bedroom at his parents’, I know now why Barnabas acts the way he does and why the female population of the town reacts to him by parading their pussies around. He is huge. Not whale-dick huge because nobody wants to be impaled by a twelve-foot diameter dick, but massive nonetheless for the human species. In my experience, guys with colossal dicks are cocky and obnoxious. Not that guys with small dicks are better. They usually are mean and authoritative. I always try to stay away from those as well. Average size men are what I prefer. They are nice, trying their best, and mostly know how to use their appendages. Mainly, depending on if they can last until I come, which didn’t happen in my last sexcapades, but it’s okay, I have battery-operated dicks for that. Coming around the couch, I blow out the candles and turn on the light, making sure Barnabas understands this will not lead to him ending up with his dick in my vagina.

  “Too romantic for you?” he mumbles in his arms. I would be made of marble if the frame of that man left me indifferent. His muscles draw every single curve of his back, and his tattoos adorn every corner of skin. It’s like a story embellishing a body that didn’t need any help to be beautiful.

  “Is that okay?” I ask, sitting on his ass and sliding my feet under his stomach. He nods before pointing his elbow to the table.

  “I didn’t have any massage oil, so I got the lube out.” Squeezing some in my palms, I let it warm up before putting my hands on him.

  “You were really hoping for something more erotic than what I’m going to give you,” I tease, the palm of my hands climbing up his spine.

  “I learned today that most things involving you are erotic, Ave.”

  My hands are roaming his shoulders while a tension falls between us. He moans a little, and I try hard not to answer the same way. Touching him this way is more sensual than I’d imagined. While I massaged my way through New York, boners were a daily struggle but always on bold or ugly men. Some asked me to go the extra mile for a few hundred dollars, but I never did. It excited me more than once but never during the massage, more at night, while replaying their words in my bed, imagining studs asking me the same thing. With Barn though, I can tell that he knows I’m getting turned on, and he counts on it to get just what he wants. I’m not naïve enough to think he has only my daughter’s intentions at heart. Not after what happened before supper.

  “Since when?” I dare ask, slightly rocking my core on his ass while my hands go up and down his body. Heat starts to spread in me, my clit throbbing against him. His nostrils flare, certainly not ignorant on what I am getting at, and I calm down before coming on his ass. He takes a deep breath in.

  “Ave,” he rasps, trying to turn around. I pin him down with my hands, and he lets me do it. I have no doubt that Barnabas could flip me like a pancake if he wanted to.

  “Since when?” I whisper while my fingers caress his flank.

  “Since that stupid innocent peck I forced on you this morning. I just wanted to get you mad, and it bit me in the ass.” I don’t say anything, not trusting my voice nor my words. I let my hands explore his body and massage his back leisurely, getting lost in his rosemary scent.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?” My hands reach for his arms on each side of his body. I suck in a breath when I reach his biceps, and my nipples brush his back. I clear my throat, getting back upright.

  “I worked as a masseuse for a while in the city to pay the bills. Then Lou said she was leaving for Montana, so I came back home.” I want my tongue to contour the lotus flower he has on his shoulder. I need my finger to trace the world map drawn on his back. I thirst to lay on top of him and kiss the nape of his neck. I crave to bite his ear. I lift his hair, and I moan, touching his silky mane. It feels like I’m petting an angora rabbit, so soft, so appealing. He chuckles beneath me. “You really like my hair, don’t you?”

  “I do.” I bite my lip, trying not to sound too ridiculous. I might orgasm just touching it. Pushing his hair aside, I see a tattoo hiding there.

  “Deb?” I trace the letters with my index finger. Barnabas freezes under my graze.

  “Why do you have Andrew and Melissa’s little sister’s name tattooed on your neck? Do you know what happened to her?”

  Barn pushes on his arms and dismantles me from his ass. I fall on my back while he stands up.

  “Same thing that happened to my back. Goodnight, Ave.”

  His voice is strained and firm, and he doesn’t look back before climbing up the stairs and shutting the door to his bedroom. I stay in shock, not understanding what happened or his reaction to it. I wrack my brain to see if I recall anything about Debra. I haven’t heard anything about her since I was living in New York, which was at least thirteen years ago. She would have been twenty then, like Lou. When I came back to town, Donna told me not to say Debra’s name, so I just assumed she left town and ran away with some guys or something like that.

  I finally get up from the daze he threw me in, but by the time I’ve turned off the lights and get ready for bed, I can smell pot coming from his bedroom. Wanting to knock to inquire more, I go to bed without talking to him, knowing better than to poke a hurt animal on the first night he welcomed me into his lair.

  10

  Barnabas

  Everybody in town knows not to talk to me about Debra.

  It has been an understanding for the last thirteen years. Nobody speaks her name in my presence. Even Andrew and Mel don’t, and they have every right to. I have no idea if they talk about her at home anymore. I haven’t set foot in their house since that summer. I can’t. To be honest, when Avery moved my hair, I had forgotten the ink was there. Not that I had forgotten about Deb. My back pain is a constant reminder of what happened, but I tend to block her out when I’m with another woman, which is often. Avery saying her name when it was becoming scorching hot between us was like dunking my dick in a bucket of ice water. I smoked until I passed out, and this morning, when I woke up, I geared up and went for a hike in the mountains but not before leaving a bottle of my homemade shampoo for Ave and a note apologizing. It’s not much, but that’s all I have in me today.

  I hiked to my favorite spot. The place I proposed. The place she said yes. That’s where I go when I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s where I can talk to her, organize my thoughts, and that’s where my back hurts less. The doctors keep telling me there is nothing wrong with me, that I’m self-inflicting back pain because I continue to live when she’s the prisoner of her own body, of her own mind.

  I let the waterfall behind me soothe my pain. If I listen carefully, I can hear Deb whispering that she will marry me and how much she loves me.

  We were young, we were stupid, we were in love. And today, I need to hear her say it. I need to remember how much we loved each other, how much we needed each other. We were on our way to Las Vegas to elope. Andrew, Mel, and Jake were with us. They probably thought she was too young, but they were too happy for us to try to stop our craziness. Jake and Mel were going to tie the knot as well. We all piled into Andrew’s car. Deb drove us to the airport. She didn’t see the moose. None of us did. Andrew, Jake, and Mel were in the back seat, they just got a few scratches and some broken bones. I was in the front with Deb. Why was she the one driving and I wasn’t? I don’t reme
mber. I tried to remember our argument and why I let her drive, why Andrew allowed her to drive his car.

  I don’t know. None of us do.

  I remember her smiling at me, Jake screaming watch out, and the moose falling on the hood. I rewind my mind. I want to see her smile again. The last smile she gave me.

  I sit on the rock overlooking the waterfall and get in a lotus pose. That’s the only way to find my peace. Remembering, meditating, whispering. I’m not the poor broken soul fucking one pussy at a time because the woman he loved had her life ripped away in a car accident. I’m the asshole fucking women because I made a promise I can’t keep. I’m the jerk loving sex so much I can’t be faithful to the girl I loved.

  I tried. In the beginning, I went to see her. If she knew who I was, she didn’t remember who I was to her. Her memory starts blank every day, and she doesn’t remember what we shared. She doesn’t know how she seduced me and how a hot fling morphed into the epic love story of our lives. In her head, she’s seventeen, and I’m just Andrew’s best friend.

  I could have been romantic. I could have hoped my life was a Sparks novel, but I wasn’t, and I was a selfish prick. Still am. So, I stopped visiting her. Nobody in Andrew’s family blamed me for it. It’s excruciating for them as well. Andrew once told me he would have preferred her to die. I wished for it too. I also wished I was the one in the wheelchair, a prisoner of the past. I wished I had never proposed. I wished I loved her so much that I’d try more. I wished I didn’t need the pain to feel less guilty and then the weed to numb the pain.

  Breathing in, I let it all go.

  I need to disconnect, to be alone, to be fun Barn and find a way to fuck Avery. I need to reset my clock, and that’s what my piece of heaven does.

  “I loved you, Deb,” I murmur in the wind, choosing the past tense because I don’t love her anymore. If I did, I would be with her. And like every time I come here, I let her go. I let her be. I rub the tattoo on my neck and wonder if she asks every day why she has my name tattooed on her neck too. Or maybe she doesn’t even know it’s there. It was a promise. I broke it. Sometimes I wonder if I would have walked away if we had already been married. Sometimes I sigh in relief telling myself I dodged a bullet. Sometimes I’m happy we hit the moose on our way to the airport and not on our way back home. Maybe it’s human to think so, or perhaps it just shows what kind of asshole I am, one who doesn’t deserve to ever have a family, a someone, an existence.