Wrapping Up: A Rainier Family Novel

by Ashton Cade

  “Fuck yes, just like that,” I groan, watching him slowly finger himself, his lips parting on a silent gasp. “Now come ride this cock,” I growl, gripping his hips, dragging him closer.

  Eli grins, this playful glitter in his eyes as he lifts his hips slowly and settles back town, the head of my cock pressed against his tight entrance.

  “I like it when you talk dirty,” he says.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, sucking in a breath as he lowers himself slowly, so damn slowly I nearly forget how to breathe. He’s so tight, clenching around me, the squeeze of him so good I can’t think. “You like it when I tell you to ride this cock? To fill that ass up with me and feel me stretching that tight little hole?”

  Eli groans, slowly sinking all the way down. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Fuck yeah.”

  He lifts his hips just as slowly, the friction enough to make me go cross-eyed. I want more. I want it faster, harder, I want him to be crying my name out loud enough for the whole damn town to hear.

  “What if I tell you that this cock is yours, Eli? Yours to use for all the pleasure you can take from it,” I say, fingers digging in deeper in his hips, the heat building tighter and tighter, a whirlpool I’m not going to be able to paddle away from soon.

  “Fuck, yes. This is my cock,” he says, riding me harder, faster. “Oh God…yes,” he hisses, ass clenching around me, fingers digging into my chest. It’s all I can do to hold on, to watch him lose himself in ecstasy while this avalanche of overwhelming feelings crashes into me.

  “Oh God, Eli…” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tight, trying to hold on as long as I can. I don’t want this to be over yet; I don’t want to lose this connection we have.

  “I’m gonna… Garrett… Oh—!” I slide my fingers around him and coax his orgasm the last little way, his whole body shuddering and twitching around me as hot spurts of his cum cover my belly. His ass is clenching and squeezing around me, and that with the look of bliss on his face sends me over the edge too.

  “Yes,” I roar, holding him firm on me, like our bodies are welded together from the heat between us. Part of me wishes they were.

  Then the intensity starts to fade, the sparkles of bliss filter in, and Eli collapses on top of me, letting me hold him while we slowly come down from the clouds.

  Eli

  “See you again tonight?” Garrett had asked as I left with Craig this morning, my whole body flushing with warmth at the memory of what we’d done.

  What I can’t wait to do again.

  It’s hard to think about work when I’m thinking about Garrett’s lips around my cock, or him buried inside me. I find myself remembering the hard, defined planes of his chest, the solid steel of his biceps—the man has a body built by nature, sculpted by rugged outdoor adventure, and it’s addicting.

  And everything about him… Well, that just makes it even better. Garrett’s not just a guy to fool around with, a guy to scratch some itches. I think he’s the real deal. He’s a sweetheart, he’s understanding, he’s genuine in a way no one else has ever been with me. Seeing him tonight almost isn’t soon enough, but I’ll just have to get through this day.

  I’m in such a good mood that not even Dr. Peterson’s surliness can get to me. He drops a stack of folders in front of me without any fanfare, looking down his nose over the rim of his glasses at me.

  “These were all miscoded in the system. This kind of sloppy work won’t be tolerated. I expect you to finish fixing them all before lunch,” he growls, almost daring me to challenge him.

  I look at the folders, open one, look over the chart—it’s completely unfamiliar. So is the one under it, the one after that.

  He’s the one that put them in. Has to be. And he’s trying to push it off on me, like I made a mistake. I could call him out on it, make a big deal, but I think that might be what he wants from me. He’s looking at me with this anticipation, this malevolent glee that’s just waiting for me to slip up, to latch onto my moment of weakness.

  Maybe that’s all in my head. Either way, I’m not giving him an excuse.

  “Sure thing, Doctor,” I say, terse, to the point. I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for a mistake I didn’t make.

  I start working on the charts right away, and he’s not wrong—they’re miscoded, and there’s a dozen other little errors in the input. I’d be willing to bet Dr. Peterson only has the vaguest idea of how to work our systems, yet he’s still hovering around me like he’s supervising my every move.

  “Is there something else?” I ask, snapping at him without remorse. I’m in a good mood, and I don’t want him to bring me down. Things are too good for the likes of James Peterson to come in and wreck them.

  Whatever Dr. Peterson is getting ready to say, I don’t find out, because my phone rings, both of us looking to my pocket. Personal calls during work are prohibited, but that doesn’t stop me from pulling it out and checking the caller ID. It’s probably Garrett, and as much as I’d love to hear his voice right now, it’s not a good time. I’ll have to push him to voicemail.

  But it’s not Garrett. It’s Umberland High.

  What the…?

  “Hello?” I answer, without thinking. Dr. Peterson’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping, sputtering, making noises in protest to me taking the call.

  “Is this Mr. Eli Sanders?” the woman on the other end says in a crisp tone.

  “Yes, what is this about?” My throat’s tight, and the only thing I can think of is Craig, stomach sinking.

  The woman tsks. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Craig’s gotten himself into a little trouble here and his mother isn’t answering her phone. We need someone to come pick him up.”

  The knot in my stomach tightens. The receptionist knows as well as I do that Tina’s probably passed out drunk, and that’s why she’s not answering the phone.

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell her, hanging up, shoving my phone in my pocket, already reaching for my coat before Dr. Peterson finds his voice.

  “Where are you going? You can’t just walk out in the middle of your shift. I need you to take care of—”

  “I’ve got a family emergency,” I tell him firmly. “Figure it out.” He can’t argue with that. My contract of employment has a provision for family emergencies. Of course, Craig probably doesn’t technically qualify, but Dr. Peterson doesn’t need to know all the particulars right now.

  By the time I’m in my car and off toward the school, I realize I don’t even know what kind of trouble he’s gotten himself into. The receptionist said they needed someone to pick him up, but that could mean all kinds of things. Is he hurt? Sick? She said he was in some kind of trouble—is he suspended? Expelled?

  My skin goes cold at that.

  I’ve been trying so hard with him. It’s been a few months—maybe a year—since we’ve been hanging out and getting closer. Sometimes he comes to me to talk, other times we go to the gym together. I told him how working out has always helped me focus and channel my anger into something positive. I hoped it could do the same for him. Told him he should think about going out for the football team or something, something that might give him a future beyond this little town.

  I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get through to him though. He seems to have a skull as thick as a bank vault door. I want so badly to see him succeed, to see him do better than where he’s come from, but I can only do so much. He’s gotta meet me halfway at some point.

  Umberland High School is unfamiliar territory for me. I’ve been here once or twice for Craig, but I didn’t grow up here like everyone else. I don’t know these halls like the back of my hand. I do eventually find my way to the main office, though, and spot Craig sitting in one of the chairs up front with his head hung low.

  “Your ride’s here,” I tell him. He perks up, eyebrows going high with relief before the reality crashes in and guilt takes over his features.

  “What happened?” I ask, looking past him to the receptionist behind the desk. A nice older woma
n named Gladys.

  “There was a fight between him and another one of the boys,” Gladys says, lips pursing to a disappointed pout.

  “A fight?” I ask, turning to Craig. He shrugs. It’s been a while since he’s been in a fight. He had a long history of using his fists to settle arguments before I came into his life and started trying to show him other ways to deal with his problems and the anger boiling inside.

  I sigh, shaking my head. “Come on, let’s go,” I say, waving him after me. Gladys makes me sign him out, but then we’re free to go.

  I wait till we’re in the car to say anything, but then he beats me to it.

  “Look, don’t even—”

  “Don’t even what?” I ask. “Point out how you’re risking your whole future by not being able to control your temper? Because you are. You think it’s worth it? Whatever that kid said or did, you think it’s worth throwing your life away for? Because that’s where you’re headed.”

  “I don’t have a future, okay?” he screeches, voice cracking. “I’m gonna die in this shitty town and never go anywhere.”

  There’s a certainty in his voice that strikes me in my core, makes my chest ache for him and the hopelessness he’s feeling. I know that feeling. I know what it’s like to think there’s no place in the world for you, that everyone’s only out to take advantage and screw you.

  But he’s got someone looking out for him. He might have a shitty mom, but he’s got me. It’s something. Doesn’t he realize how much more that is than some people get?

  “What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my voice steady, trying not to lose my patience with him. I know he’s had it rough, but it could be a hell of a lot rougher.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he snaps, clamming up, his arms folded, his body toward the window. “I’m fine. Just stop getting involved in my life. I don’t need you interfering.”

  I know he doesn’t mean it, that he’s not trying to hurt me, but that doesn’t stop it from stinging. Everything I’ve done for this kid is for his own good, and he just doesn’t get it.

  I know when to stop pushing, though. Teenage drama can’t be reasoned with, and if he needs an enemy to be angry at, I guess it can be me. We don’t talk at all anymore until I’m dropping him off at his house.

  “Don’t forget Garrett’s tomorrow,” I tell him, expecting another mini-explosion.

  He scoffs, rolls his eyes. “That’s such bullshit. He’s milking it, there’s no way—”

  “He’s crediting you at fifteen an hour—you know how many people in this town make that? Not a lot, ask around. And you’re only working eighteen hours a week. You’ve got two more weeks of helping him out, and if you ask me, it’s generous as hell of him. So suck it up and do the work. You didn’t have any problem doing the crime.”

  I almost want to take the words back the moment they’re out of my mouth. I try really hard not to talk to Craig like that, to not talk down to him like an adult that knows so much better. And he’s shocked by it too, his mouth dropping open, fire flashing through his eyes. I think he’s gonna argue with me about it, but instead, he hops out of the car, muttering “Whatever and slamming the door.

  Guess that’s as much of a victory as I can hope for.

  Garrett

  He laughed when I told him, but I wasn’t kidding when I told Eli that I’m not a very good cook. Sure, I’ll cook for him anytime he wants, but like I said—no promises it’ll be edible.

  He thinks it was a joke, but he’s coming over tonight for dinner and if I don’t figure something out, he’s gonna realize it’s not.

  “You any good at cooking?” I ask Clary. He’s working on editing some video about my campaign. We spent most of the day recording it over and over again, me tripping over words, my tongue getting in my own way. I think I finally managed it though. We had to give up when the light started fading, anyway.

  “Why?” he asks, turning on the couch to look at me.

  “I’m having company over tonight.”

  “And you don’t want to cook?”

  “Not that I don’t wanna, just not sure I should. My recipe book’s pretty short.”

  Clary makes a face, then sets the laptop aside.

  “Is this that guy again?”

  “Eli? Yeah,” I say, the hard edge in my voice unmistakable.

  Clary shakes his head, sighs as he stands. “Would it be the worse thing in the world to wait until after the election to pursue this?” he asks, obviously being careful about his word choice, his voice even and calm as he comes into the kitchen and looks over what’s in the fridge.

  I don’t answer him right away, taking the time to breathe in slow, letting the fire sizzle out of my response before I give it.

  “Yeah, it would be. I’m not running so I can lie about who I am. I don’t need this council spot. I wanna help. If the town doesn’t want me because of who I wanna date, then that’s their loss.”

  Clary purses his lips, but doesn’t argue with me. I’m pretty sure he’s not of the same opinion. I think to Clary, winning’s probably the most important part. I’m not sure my plans, my dreams, my mission for Umberland matters all that much to him. But why would it? He’s not sticking around here to see any of it come to fruition. He’s here for one reason and one reason only: to help me win this campaign.

  I can’t really get mad at him for trying to do his job, can I?

  While Clary’s getting dinner prepped, I tidy up around the house—my place isn’t big, but with two people living here right now, it’s gotten a little messy. Eli’s house is anything but. He’s organized and clean, everything in its proper place. Coming over to a mess might just stress him out, and that’s the last thing I want. I want him to be able to relax when he’s here. To let his worries go and enjoy time with me.

  So I clean up. I throw dirty clothes in the laundry, I pick up the shoes in the middle of the floor, I even scrub the toilet.

  Eli’s right on time, as usual, and Clary’s finishing up dinner, setting the table as I answer the door, swiping the back of my hand over my sweat-slicked forehead.

  “Hey,” I say, greeting him with a quick kiss, the rush of cold from outside welcome to cool the heat burning through me.

  Eli gives me a little shy smile after the kiss, his face ruddy from the cold, the tip of his nose red as he unwinds the scarf from his neck.

  “It smells amazing in here,” he says, taking a deep breath.

  “I get none of the credit,” I say, taking his coat. “Clary made everything. You’ve already had the things I can cook.”

  He makes a face at me, still trying to figure out if this is a joke or not, if my cooking skills are real. Truth is, most of the cooking I’m capable of doing is better done over a campfire. All the fancy things you can do in a kitchen, with a stove and multiple pans? Beyond me.

  “What’re we having?” Eli asks, following his nose into the kitchen.

  “I dunno, what are we having, Clary?”

  Clary’s bringing a sizzling pan of pork chops to the table. “Chops, sautéed green beans, and a mushroom pan sauce.”

  “Shit, I had the stuff for all that?” I ask, impressed.

  “You keep a well-stocked kitchen for a guy that claims to not cook,” Clary says.

  I shrug.

  “Thank you for making it,” Eli says, sitting at the table. “It looks incredible.”

  “Yeah, I appreciate it. Thanks for not making us eat the slop I could make.”

  Eli snorts, and kicks me lightly under the table. “You make really good bacon and eggs,” he says, rushing to my defense.

  “Thanks,” I grin at him, heart soaring. Why it means so much to me that he wants to defend my admittedly terrible cooking, I don’t know. But it leaves me grinning like a loon anyway.

  “Hope you don’t mind me crashing your date,” Clary says, sending me an odd look that does a good job of trying to crush my smile without actually managing it.

  Eli scoffs. “It would be pretty rude to ex
pect you not to stick around when you put in all this hard work. How are things coming with the campaign?”

  “It’s still early to say. We’re polling well, but we really need to get Garrett’s message out there. I’m thinking a few town hall-style meetings, some Q & As, that kind of thing could help.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask suddenly, air roaring around me, a vacuum in my head focusing on a pinprick. “You didn’t say anything about public appearances.”

  Eli laughs and kicks me gently again. “You think you’re going to be a politician that doesn’t have public appearances?”

  “Well… No… I didn’t… When you put it that way…” To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it much. Or at all. I just wanna help make Umberland better, and I know that our current council isn’t doing shit. Like Dad always said, you want a job done right, you do it yourself. That’s all I’m doing.

  I didn’t think about having to talk in front of people and answer their questions.

  I guess that is a pretty big part of it, though.

  “You’ll be fine,” Clary says, waving off my concerns. “I’ll coach you so well you won’t even think twice about it. You’ll be able to charm voters in your sleep.”

  “He’s certainly got my vote,” Eli says with a big grin.

  “Tell your friends,” I mutter, making them both laugh.

  I appreciate Clary keeping his opinion of our relationship to himself. We actually manage to have a nice, pleasant dinner, and even though he gives me a couple of looks I know I should pay more heed to, I think he’s coming around to Eli.

  How could a guy this great ever be a liability? I just don’t see it.

  “I’ve got plans to meet up with some folks at Barb’s for drinks,” Clary says as the meal’s winding down, pushing his chair back from the table. “I’ll probably be out late, so don’t wait up,” he adds, giving me a friendly smile before he leaves.

  He might not agree with my choices, but he’s still got my back. That’s the Rainier way.