Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  I glance over and see her eyes are sparkling, excited to see how I’ve spun this tale so a seven-year-old girl can understand.

  I cut down the violence a bit and leave out some details, but it’s basically the same story. Instead of a guy getting stabbed, he hits his head really bad. Kyrie’s never questioned the logistics of the story; she just enjoys it.

  Before I know it, she’s fast asleep, a little smile on her face, and we’re sneaking out of the room quietly so we don’t wake her.

  “She thinks they’re covered in grease?” Dory falls into quiet laughter when we close the bedroom door.

  “Well, I mean, they are the greasers. It’s totally plausible.”

  Shaking her head, she smiles up at me. “I love that you didn’t really mince words with most of the story. I think it’s going to make her more compassionate the older she gets, not one to judge people too quickly.”

  I nod. “That was kind of my point. Plus, it was the only story I know well enough to tell.”

  “I love that your favorite book is my favorite book.”

  She’s stepped closer to me, and I don’t even know if she realizes it.

  Just like I don’t think I realize I’ve reached for her until I feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips.

  “Porter…”

  It’s whispered, but I hear the begging.

  I need you.

  Without overthinking it—because we don’t do that—I pull her down the hall and into the guest bathroom, slamming the door closed and locking it.

  “What are you…ohhh.”

  Her question morphs into a moan the moment my lips find that sensitive spot on her neck. I grip her hips, lifting her until she’s on the countertop, and step into my own personal version of heaven.

  I reach between her legs, my fingers skimming over the insides of her thighs as they blaze a path to the spot I’ve been dying to touch since I crawled out of her bed in the wee hours of the morning.

  I dip my fingers into the sides of her bathing suit, grateful she hasn’t had the chance to change yet, and slide two digits over her sensitive flesh.

  “I was made to be inside you.”

  She gasps at my words, arching toward my touch like she can’t get enough.

  Reaching between us, she plunges her hand into my gym shorts and curls her fingers around my cock.

  “This was made to be inside me too.”

  I catch her gaze with mine to make sure this is really what she wants right now.

  She does.

  I drop to my knees, spreading her thighs, and suck her clit into my mouth, keeping eye contact with her the entire time.

  Her mouth is forming an O as she watches me bring her to the brink.

  She wants to cry out in pleasure, but there’s no pillow to muffle her sounds now. She stays quiet, letting her eyes convey her appreciation for what my tongue is doing to her.

  I think I might like this even more than when I make her scream.

  She tugs at my hair and I stand, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand as she shoves my gym shorts down my hips just enough to let my cock spring free.

  Holding her swimsuit to the side, she spreads her legs wider, inviting me inside.

  “I want you, Porter. Please.”

  Yeah, Dory? Well I need you.

  But I don’t say it.

  Instead, I slide into her and break a rule.

  I fall.

  * * *

  “Are you two seriously fucking in my bathroom right now?”

  Winston’s growl comes through the door just as we’re cleaning ourselves up.

  “For real? We haven’t even banged in there yet, and we bang all the time.”

  Great. Now Drew has joined him.

  “What’s going on, guys?”

  Annnnnd there’s Foster.

  “Your best friend and his nanny are in there doing the naked cha-cha slide.”

  “I think you mean tango, Winston,” Sully corrects.

  He’s out there too?

  “Right foot let’s stomp!”

  Stomp.

  “Left foot let’s stomp!”

  Stomp.

  “Freeze!”

  A pause.

  “Now everybody clap your hands!”

  And they all fucking do.

  “Oh my god,” Dory mutters, shaking with laughter and maybe mortification. “This is the worst day of my life.”

  “Cha-cha now, y’all!” Wren yells.

  I can just picture them all out there cha-cha-ing away like the assholes they are.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to her, trying to hold back a laugh because it’s all I can do in this moment. We asked for it the moment we locked ourselves inside this bathroom. I smack at the door a few times. “Go away, you dicks!”

  “Ha! They are in there. I knew it!”

  I drop my head to Dory’s shoulder, burying my face in my favorite spot.

  “I hate them.”

  “You don’t.”

  “You should hate them too.”

  “I don’t.”

  I nip at her throat, taking away any sting with gentle licks.

  When we’re certain they’ve finally left, I help Dory off the counter and rearrange my cock, which is just about ready for round two.

  Slowly, I open the door, checking to make sure the coast is clear.

  Expelling a relieved breath, I hold my hand out to Dory. “We’re good.”

  Her cheeks are still flushed and I’d like to say that’s my doing, but I know it’s pure embarrassment at this point.

  I crowd her against the wall, leaning close.

  “Listen, I’m sorry they were assholes, but I’m not sorry about what we did. I’ll never be sorry for wanting you.”

  She stares up at me, eyes searching mine. “I’m not sorry either, Porter.”

  I nod once and then push away before I do something stupid like kiss her.

  Hand in hand, we walk down the hall toward the living room, the house eerily quiet.

  “Maybe they went outside?” Dory suggests when I look back at her questioningly.

  I nod. “Yeah, probably.”

  I stop by the kitchen, grabbing myself another beer and offering Dory one. She declines.

  “Someone’s gotta drive,” she explains.

  “Shit. Good point. Maybe I should put this back, then.” I go to slide it back into the massive hunk of steel, but she puts her hand on my forearm to stop me.

  “No, have it. Please.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re just saying that you so can drive my car, aren’t you?”

  She smashes her lips together, doing nothing to hide her grin. “It’s a really sexy car.”

  After Dory and I fought about me buying another car, I did it anyway. It wasn’t for her when I suggested it, and it’s still not for her. It’s for Kyrie’s safety, because I know Dory was lying her ass off when she said hers has never broken down. I’d rather buy another car than them get stranded somewhere or have something worse happen.

  Besides, I was wanting an excuse to upgrade.

  The day it arrived, Dory tried shutting her door in my face, annoyed with me for making such a big purchase nonchalantly, I’m sure.

  Before she could get the door all the way closed, I wrapped my hand around her wrist and pulled her outside to give her a proper tour of the new ride.

  Then I fucked her in the back seat…twice.

  She’s loved it ever since.

  “Shithead,” I mutter, grabbing the beer I desperately need after that debacle we just experienced, and then I hand Dory a water.

  We make our way onto the back deck, where the conversation falls completely silent the moment we step through the sliding glass door.

  Then, I hear it.

  The unmistakable introduction of “Cha-Cha Slide.”

  And all the idiots I call friends rise from their chairs and start doing the classic dance like they’ve been practicing it for hours.

  Groaning, I
drop my chin to my chest, trying to fold into myself so I don’t have to witness this.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dory’s foot move.

  I realize then she’s cha-cha-ing too.

  Grinning, I look over at her. “Didn’t you get enough of that just a few minutes ago?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”

  Her words hit my chest, a warmth spreading all over my body, giving me a high the sex never could.

  Something tells me I’m not the only one who broke a rule during our time in the bathroom.

  After their dance is over, they take a collective bow and we all take our seats.

  When I notice Dory’s still standing, no open chair in sight, I don’t hesitate to pull her into my lap.

  When she looks at me with panic in her ocean eyes, I laugh.

  “Dory, they all know we just had sex in the bathroom. Do you really think they’re going to care if you sit on my lap?”

  “Spoiler alert: we don’t give two fucks,” Winston says.

  “Just don’t talk about the first thing that pops up.”

  Everyone groans at Foster’s lame joke.

  “What? That was hilarious and you all know it.”

  “That was sad, babe. Very, very sad.” Wren pats his hand. “We’ll let it slide this time, but another one of those and you’re out.”

  He grumbles something I can’t quite make out and takes a pull on his beer. “So, Porter, how’s it going with the home base back in Cali and living out here? That can’t be easy on you.”

  “Probably why he took to dicking his nanny,” Winston says. “He needs stress relief of the nanny poonani persuasion. I don’t—ow!”

  Drew reaches over and pinches him hard. “Shut up, you ass. You’re making it sound like Dory is nothing but a piece of meat.”

  “Nanny poonani?” Foster tries really fucking hard not to laugh as Wren glares at him, daring him to break the entire time.

  “Sorry,” Winston says quietly.

  I feel Dory stiffen in my arms, but just for a moment. Then she shrugs.

  “It’s okay, Winston,” Dory says. “That’s really what this is—just sex.”

  She’s right. That’s exactly what we’ve relegated our relationship to—just sex.

  So why does it feel so wrong? Why does bile rise in my throat, the feeling of wanting to puke so strong I have to take a hefty drink of my beer just to keep from spewing vomit?

  “Yep.” I nod. “Just sex.”

  I hope I sound convincing, because I sure as shit don’t feel confident in my answer.

  If it’s obvious, nobody says anything.

  “The company is doing well financially,” I say to Foster, “but I will admit I feel it slipping through my fingers not being there. A part of me wishes I could go back after the summer ends.”

  “Like full-time?”

  His question doesn’t surprise me. Of all people, Foster knows how obsessed I am with work. Being away from all the action… It’s been an adjustment, and I’ve been using Dory as a distraction to not focus on it.

  But it’s starting to weigh on me. That’s my company. My hard work that’s making millions. I should be there…right?

  “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it. Could use this as my summer home.”

  There’s a small hitch in Dory’s breath and I hear it.

  “Besides,” I say, testing the waters, “it’s not like I have anything permanent here or anything.”

  There she goes stiffening yet again.

  Part of me yearns to tell her I’d stay for her, but I’m terrified she’ll run.

  After all, this is just sex to her. She just told my friend as much.

  Instead, I let it go and take another drink.

  “I think if you just relax and stop fighting everything so much, you’ll see that this is the right place for you after all.”

  I’ve known him long enough to know exactly what Foster means with his words.

  If I’d stop playing this game with Dory and just go for it, I’d find happiness here and have a reason to stay.

  And finally finding that happiness I’ve been missing will have all my work woes falling to the wayside.

  I’m picking up everything he’s putting down.

  I just hope Dory is too.

  “How about we kick this little shindig up a bit?” Foster suggests.

  “I can’t get too wild,” his wife tells him. “Baby and all that.”

  “It’s fine. Dory is here and she’s not drinking.”

  “Winston!” his fiancée hisses.

  When he grins at me over his drink, it dawns on me exactly what he’s doing.

  He’s trying to piss me off, trying to get me to stake my claim on Dory as something other than my daughter’s nanny.

  Trying to make me all possessive.

  And it’s fucking working.

  A low growl rumbles from inside me, and Dory glances back down at me.

  “It’s fine, Porter,” she mumbles. “You don’t have to defend me. I know what he’s doing.”

  I nod once at her, letting her know I heard her, but I still lift my hand and flip Winston the bird.

  He laughs. “Promise to make it rough?”

  “Oh my god. Why did I agree to marry you?” Drew covers her face with her hand. “I’m sorry, Dory. Ignore him.”

  “I already was,” Dory says sweetly, not taking any of Winston’s goading to heart.

  “What did you have in mind to crank things up, Foster?” Sully says, drawing the attention away from the shit-stirrer of the group.

  Foster produces a bottle from the cooler by his chair and shakes it, a grin stretching across his face. “Tequila.”

  Everyone looks at me, and I groan.

  “Come on,” Sully encourages, surprisingly enough. “You know you could use a shot or two after dealing with this jackass and his antics.” He pokes his thumb Winston’s way.

  “Hey! I’m just the only one brave enough to speak up.”

  “Yet you still beat around the bush,” Wren says, rolling her eyes at her brother. “Just let them be, Winston. It’s none of our business.”

  “Especially not yours,” Drew points out, “considering how long we did the same song and dance.”

  They continue to argue amongst themselves while Dory and I sit here quietly, pretending they aren’t talking about us like we aren’t here, acting like they aren’t practically knocking our heads together with their words and trying to get us to understand what’s right in front of us.

  I’m well aware of what’s right in front of me.

  I’m just waiting for her to catch up.

  “Porter?” Sully says from beside me, holding the bottle out my way. “You in?”

  “I think you could use it,” Dory says quietly.

  I agree. I think I could use it too.

  I grab the bottle as my response, then glance up to the beauty in my lap, the one smiling down at me with delight.

  “Tequila Clause?” she teases.

  “Tequila Clause.”

  And I take a drink.

  Slice Sixteen

  Doris

  Porter hasn’t mentioned going back to California since the night we hung out at Winston and Drew’s.

  Granted, he got pretty drunk—and naked—that night, so maybe he doesn’t remember it.

  He’s upstairs in his office with Fran right now going over some things. She keeps offering to take more off his plate, and he keeps refusing. I can see the frustration growing, and I know exactly how she feels. Porter pays both of us way too much money and doesn’t allow us to help him out nearly enough. It’s almost like he’s too afraid to let himself get comfortable and relax. Like he’s scared if he does, the rug will be yanked out from underneath him.

  I can relate to that too.

  It’s why no matter how badly I want to, I can’t let myself feel anything for Porter other than physical attraction.

  It’s gett
ing harder and harder to maintain the lines we drew in the beginning.

  Like this morning, I leaned over to him when he was still asleep and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. I don’t know why I did it, but I had to. It could have been the way the morning light was shining across him, highlighting the stress wrinkles forming around his eyes. Or maybe it was just that I wanted to do it, that I missed the way his lips felt against mine.

  He didn’t stir, so I know he didn’t feel me, but I felt it.

  I felt it all.

  The emotions pouring out of me.

  I want Porter.

  I want him bad.

  Especially since I have a sinking feeling he’ll be going back to California soon. He hasn’t said anything directly to me, but I’ve heard him mention a move a few times since Fran went up there. It’s not that I’m eavesdropping, I just keep having to walk by the staircase.

  I’m trying not to let the feeling seep into my skin and affect me.

  I can’t let it affect me. That’s not what we agreed to.

  No feelings. Just sex.

  So why does the thought of him leaving make me feel like it does?

  Stop thinking about it, Dory. It could be nothing.

  I bustle quickly to the laundry room, grabbing what feels like my tenth load of clean laundry from the dryer. How the hell does a seven-year-old go through this many outfits?

  “Ah, there you are.” Porter’s voice startles me and I nearly jump out of my skin, dropping an armload of clothes onto the floor.

  He winces. “Sorry. I thought you heard me clomping down the stairs.”

  “Lost in thought,” I explain. “Were you looking for me?”

  He leans back, looking left and right, then saunters into the laundry room, a sly grin stretched across his lips.

  God, I want to kiss him again.

  He crowds in close, pressing me up against the dryer.

  “Hi,” he whispers. “I missed you.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “You’ve seen me all day.”

  “I know, but it’s not the same when I can’t touch you.” He dips closer, letting his nose run the length of my neck. It’s his favorite thing to do because I won’t let him kiss me.

  His other hand grips my waist, holding me close enough that I can feel the way his cock hardens in his slacks.