by TC Matson
“Yes. Are you still coming over for lunch?”
“I am,” I tell her.
“Are you sure?”
I chuckle. “Yes, Mom.”
“What time is your lunch time?”
I glance to the clock—twelve thirty. “Shit.”
She titters. “Late night?”
“Can we make it dinner instead?” I ask, ignoring her question. “Apparently I needed the sleep.”
“I can tell,” she deadpans in her sweet way. “Dinner is fine with me. I’ll make your favorite. Salmon with roasted potatoes and asparagus.”
“I hate asparagus,” I tell her.
“I know, but you’ll eat it since you feel so badly for standing me up for lunch.”
I chuckle. “You’re an evil woman.”
I can feel Jolie’s eyes on me and it causes me to look over my shoulder. She smiles sweetly and something weird washes over my skin. Her eyes are normally hazel, more blue than green, but I’ve noticed they’re like sneaky chameleons, changing from gold to greens.
“I need to let you go, Mom. I have company.”
“As in a girl?” Hope laces her tone.
I roll my eyes since she can’t see me and cuss myself for even telling her. “Yes, Mom. A girl.”
“Did she spend the night with you?”
“Mom…”
“Why don’t you bring her for dinner?”
“I will see you later.”
She laughs softly. “I’ll see you then. I love you.”
“I love you,” I tell her and then hang up.
I lie back down, rolling to face Jolie. “Good morning.” I smile. “I’m sorry I woke you, but it felt wrong being naked with a raging hard-on and my mom on the phone. I felt…indecent.”
She giggles and I love the way it sounds groggy. “I’m sure. I understand.”
I kiss her on the tip of the nose. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” she moans and then rolls to her back with a stretch.
She winces.
I slide my hands to her thighs and massage gently. “Sorry.”
She rolls her head toward me and grins lazily. “Totally worth it.”
“You hungry?” I ask.
She bites her lip, coy hazels insinuating what she’s hungry for.
I slant my mouth and kiss her.
She’s insatiable, and I fucking love it.
Chapter 12
Work is work. I don’t hate it. I don’t love it. It’s just something in life that’s a must. My job isn’t hard, but at times, it is stressful, especially at the end of the month. Even more at the end of the year when the accountant is breathing down my neck.
My weekend with Kyce was perfect…multiple times perfect. That man knows how to please my body, satiate my mind, and wreck my world—in a great way of course. After spending the night with him, he cooked breakfast and then I went home. I wasn’t surprised that Scarlett wasn’t there, but just as promised, she made the bed that I ended up crawling into and passing out. I slept for another few hours before getting up and taking a shower.
“Knock knock.” Jordon startles me, ripping me from my weekend memories. “How are you liking your new bed?” he asks.
I set my pen down, rest back in the chair, and smile. My brother is a good-looking man. He’s a gentle giant, tall and muscular—not Kyce muscular though, but built. His black hair is tamed by his fingers running through it. His dark-seeded brown eyes are enough to intimidate the unknown, but easy enough to comfort the ones he loves. “Loving it. Thank you for taking me.”
He lifts a shoulder. “You should have let me buy it for you.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“And I’m your big brother.” He sits in the chair across from my desk and rests his hands behind his head, comfortably. “Which brings me to the next question. Who is he?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
His shit-eating grin spreads. “Don’t play stupid, Jo. I know you all too well. But why have you left me in the dark when you normally tell me everything?”
I glance away briefly, trying to figure out a good way to tell him what Kyce and I are. I can’t lie to my brother. I’ve never been good at it. Besides, he’ll call me out on it. “Well…what’s the best way to tell a brother that you met someone but you’re only his booty call?”
Indignation narrows his eyes and I can see his thoughts brewing.
“It’s my choice too,” I say. “But although I do tell you everything, I didn’t see the need to tell you that I met someone and we’re just having fun. Before you get all big brotherly, I’m happy. It’s the perfect situation. Neither of us want a relationship.”
He runs his fingers through his beard. “Why waste your time then?”
“Because the se—” I stop short of causing my brother to puke and shake my head. “It’s not a waste of time when you’re enjoying the time you spend together.”
“Mom know?”
“Hell no. If I can’t tell you, do you think I’d run off to tell Mom? Do you think I’m insane?”
“Knowing you’ve lowered yourself to be a booty call, yes.”
I bounce a finger at him. “But it’s okay if you do it? Like a double standard.”
He ignores my question and tips his chin. “You like him though.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” I admit. “That’s a requirement for me to lie in the bed with him.”
He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “I’m glad you’re happy. Just don’t get hurt.”
“If only we could get you on the same page and you be happy,” I say.
He blows a chuckle. “I am on the same page. Her name is Jenna. I met her a few weeks ago at the…” he stops to laugh, “the grocery store. I helped her pick out her melons.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding?”
He shakes his head. “We’ve been on a few dates. I like her.”
“What does she do for a living?” I ask, starting in on my protective sister interrogation.
“She’s a licensed substance abuse counselor. Pretty fucking ironic, huh?” he says.
I jerk forward, pointing my finger at him. “Do not tell her about our family. Tell her Dad died in a car crash with Victoria and it’s only you, Mom, and me. You’ll run her off if you tell her any differently.”
“She already knows.”
“Then she has skeletons in her closet.”
“You’re loaded with assumptions.”
“I worry about my big brother. That’s all.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Yet you’ve kept me in the dark…”
He doesn’t play fair, but honestly, he never really has. He’s always been protective of me, always been my best friend aside from Scarlett, and we grew closer after Chris broke my heart and hung me out to dry.
“Fine. You win.” I cross my arms over my chest like a disgruntled five-year-old.
“Start with his name.”
Shit. “You have to keep it a secret.”
“Is he wanted by the police or something?”
My mouth falls open. “What kind of man do you think I’m attracted to?”
He rolls his wrist. “Ignore the question. Continue.”
I take a deep breath. “His name is Kyce.” I look out the window into the garage to his brother’s poster. “He’s Ryker’s brother. As in the Striker Ryker.”
“No fucking way,” he belts, sitting straight up. “How the hell did you meet him?”
My view drops to the papers on my desk. “Long story short, Scarlett and I went to a club. There was a man who refused to take the hint and Kyce was the first guy I ran into. He played along to help get rid of the drunk guy and he’s been persistent since.”
“Is he good to you?”
I grin wickedly. “Oh, so fucking good.”
“Jesus, Jolie,” he growls. “I don’t care to know that shit.”
I bite my laugh back.
Jordon takes a moment, rising to his fe
et and running his fingers through his hair. “Protect yourself from getting hurt again. If you know there’s nothing there, don’t fall.” His voice is saturated with love and it makes my chest swell.
“I won’t.”
“Yet you’ve started.” He levels his gaze on me. “Be true to yourself.” He walks out of the office.
He and I have serious heartfelt conversations a lot. We’ve never been scared to open up and show our feelings for each other. Never. We’ve always had a bond regardless of the years that separate us.
“Yes, ol’ mighty one,” I shout out, easing the emotional weirdness.
He laughs, his shoulders bouncing as he disappears down the hallway. A few moments later, he pushes out into the shop, spins around and grins.
Spotify is playing on my computer, a song I’ve never heard before causing my foot to tap to the beat as I enter the employees’ times for this week. I’m solely focused on the numbers when my phone chimes and I about jump out of my skin. I yelp, lurching away from my desk and slapping a hand over my chest.
Kyce: Can I see you tonight?
Jolie: Your text just scared the shit out of me. I just about came out of my skin.
Kyce: I prefer you out of your clothes.
Kyce: I want to see you tonight. We’ll do something different.
Jolie: I don’t do anal.
I’m laughing when my phone rings. Kyce is cracking up too. “I’ll make sure to put that on my to-try list.”
“Don’t even think about it. It’s not happening. I’m adventurous, but not that much.”
“I could change your mind.”
“I could end our arrangement too.”
There’s shuffling on the other end as he talks to someone else for a second before responding to me. “I wouldn’t do shit to jeopardize us.”
Us…
“I want to bring you dinner,” he says low.
“Why are you whispering?” I ask, and for some dumb reason, I whisper to him.
“I’m at work. Not supposed to have our phones out. Can I bring you dinner tonight?”
“Why all of a—”
“Please don’t analyze it. I want to. That’s why,” he interrupts.
I like how he knows me so well. “Your place at seven?”
“No. Your place.”
My heart stops. My place is my safe haven. The place where the world can’t beat me down as I decompress from my day. It’s like my personal diary…with a flimsy lock. “Why?” It comes out defensively.
“Is there something you’re hiding from me?”
“No. I just…” Why not just tell him part of my worries? “My apartment isn’t as nice as what you live in. It was a quick solution to a horrible situation.”
“You think that low of me that I’d judge you?” I hear the hurt in his tone.
“It’s not that. It’s just…” Screw it. “Meet me at the bench at seven.”
“You like shrimp?” The smile is back in his voice.
“Yes,” I say with my heart slamming my chest.
“I’ll be there at seven.”
After we hang up, I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. Other than my brother, he’ll be the first guy I’ve ever brought to my place. I haven’t made any memories with a man in the space between my four walls. I have a feeling that’s about to be obliterated.
Chapter 13
Jolie’s pacing as I pull up to the curb. Before I can park my Tahoe, she jumps in.
“Hey,” she says nervously. “Go to the next block and take a right.”
She directs me to park in front of an old brick building. Paint is flaking off the black trim around the windows displaying the worn gray cement behind it. I grab the food and round the truck to follow her. The wrought iron handrails look antique and weary, the steps leading to the large dark wood door also worn like a million footsteps have walked this path. She’s clearly nervous, wringing her fingers as she leads me up four flights of ugly shit ass green stairs and down a skinny hallway.
This place reminds me of an old time horror flick where nothing good happens and the killer is waiting just inside the next threshold to slice you open. You can tell this building has been around for endless years, weathered by the steps of people coming and going.
Four-nineteen…she pushes open the door.
Inside doesn’t resemble the outside. It’s a small studio apartment, everything within a twenty-foot radius. Standing in the living room, the kitchen is to our left, her bedroom to our right and only separated by a lacy white curtain. Parquet flooring runs the length of the entire place, but it doesn’t damper the uniqueness she’s personalized it with.
Worried eyes land on me and she continues to wring her fingers. “Not what you expected, huh?”
I tighten my lips and shake my head. “Honestly? No.” I place the food onto the white laminate counter. The kitchen isn’t big enough for the both of us. “I made creamy shrimp pasta.”
“You made it?”
I beam proudly. “I did. I like to cook when I have the chance.” I look around, clapping my hands before rubbing them together. “Now. Where are your plates?”
She giggles. “There are five cabinets. How’s your luck?”
“Horrible,” I reply dryly. “But let’s try.”
I look around the small area. Cups normally go beside the fridge, spices closest to the stove, foods next to them, which leaves two. I reach for the one beside where the cups should go. Jolie clears her throat, catching my attention, and shakes her head as she points to the cabinet closest to the sink.
“I would’ve lost my life savings.”
She laughs.
After putting our food on plates, grabbing two beers—because why not make myself at home—I make the coffee table our dining table.
She gives me another perfect show of foodporn. Every time she moans, every time she licks her lips, I feel it in my dick. We eat in silence, me nonchalantly watching her, for several more minutes before she breaks it.
“A few years ago, my fiancé left me on our wedding day.” She shoves a piece of shrimp around her plate without looking up. “I was kicked out of our home by his brother and later found out he left me deep in debt. At the time, I worked at a little coffee shop. This was all I could afford at the time.”
My brows furrow. “You almost got married?”
She blows a breath, shaking her head slightly. “Yeah. We dated for four years. I thought he loved me. I still think he did at one point. Unfortunately, the old bitch he was fucking had more to offer than me.”
Suddenly, I don’t feel hungry anymore. “So he was cheating, led you to believe you were getting your happily ever after only to split the day of the wedding?”
“She gave him an ultimatum. He chose her.”
“On your wedding day?” I repeat dumbfounded.
She nods but keeps her view on her plate. “I was all dolled up, excited and ready. I mean, it was my big day. My mom was the one who told me. She watched the asshole walk out.”
“What a fucking cock sucker,” I snap, furious at him for being such a dick and angry for her.
“Your choice of words are much nicer than any of mine have been.”
“You ever see this shithead?”
She shakes her head. “No. Last I heard, he lives in the same house with her and is still working for daddy’s law firm. I don’t give a damn how he’s doing, so I don’t ask about him.”
Something in my chest begs to be heard. I shove the table away from us and pull her onto my lap. I cup her cheek and force her to look at me. “I would never do that to you. I’m nothing like that douchefuck. There are more good guys out there than there are dickheads like him. Don’t be like a lot of women and let him ruin you. I understand having trust issues and not wanting to be in a relationship right now. Don’t cement a wall around your heart and make it impossible for another man to break it down. Don’t punish your future because of your past.”
She blinks.
I blink.
Both of us are surprised at the words that just poured out of my mouth.
“I’m not,” she says sounding small. “Well, not completely. I’m not ready and I know it.”
I swallow because this shit in my chest is terrifying the fuck out of me. “What happens if you fall in love unexpectedly?”
“Then I fall in love.”
“Do you run away from it?”
She looks vulnerable, her eyes holding a nervousness and her lip between her teeth. “Why run when the scariest part has already happened?”
I want to tell her all the things I’m beginning to feel, the way she makes my chest feel, the shit that both elates me and scares me. But I know if I do, I’ll lose her. She’s admitted she isn’t ready and regardless of how much I’d like to try it, I’m not sure I’m ready either. We’ve made the boundaries clear, laid our rules in the sand. I’d rather be able to hold her and hide my emotions than tell her and lose her.
Fuck.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my thoughts out. “Yeah. Just thinking how I’d like to strangle that fuckhead.” It’s not technically a lie. I would love to beat the hell out of him. What type of man does that? A pussy, that’s who.
She rolls her eyes up to me, desire heavy in them. “This side of you, all protective and possessive, it turns me on.”
I raise a brow as she rocks against my dick. She slips off between my legs and onto her knees, undoing my pants. I lift, helping her release my cock, and then she shimmies out of her pants. She licks from my nuts up to the tip of my dick and swirls her tongue before swallowing me. My eyes roll closed, and I moan. She works her magic for only a few moments before moving and crashing into my mouth for a heated kiss as she climbs back onto my lap.
“Trust me?” she asks against my lips staring into my eyes.
“More than you know,” I say, knowing exactly what she’s asking.
Slowly, she sinks down. Feeling her bare wet pussy wrapped around my dick…Holy fuck. I watch, rapt, as she rides me. Her pace is steady, her slickness glistening on my cock. She leans back slightly, digging her fingers through her hair and tugging with one hand while kneading a tit with the other. Her eyes are closed. Her mouth is parted as sighs escape her lips. Her skin is flushed as she satisfies herself with my dick. She’s fucking gorgeous.