Thaddeus (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 2)

by Hope Hitchens

  There was nothing he could have said in that moment that would have impressed my mother more. He could have said he was my friend, or my... the guy I was sleeping with, but he led with ‘veteran.’ Genius. Who’s mean to a vet? It’s almost illegal.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thaddeus. You’re on the same team as Bart?”

  “I retired early,” he said. “We’ve remained friends, though. I see him whenever he isn’t deployed.”

  “Is he well?”

  “I just saw him recently. He asked me to help Ronnie get settled in Monterey.”

  Thaddeus Lowell, more like Thaddeus gonna-be-my-new-stepdad because he was charming the pants off of my mother. What the hell? She hadn’t been half this happy when I had introduced her to Michael, but then there was the whole thing with Michael that he was way too old for me, a predator, really, and overall, in the end, a shitty dude who had tortured me emotionally and psychologically for six years… but really.

  Thad was way more objectionable, on appearance firstly… but that… actually, that was it. He was nice, to me, if a little coarse. He was good with the kids. He was doing what Bart had asked him to do. I had wasted all that time with Michael when I could have just brought this guy home.

  Yes, it was a little weird that he googled D&C, maybe, even possibly only to find out whether we could have sex so soon after the procedure, but hey, maybe he was just concerned about my health and well-being.

  What about that?

  Not every guy is an absolute lout, Veronica. No. Some guys read birth and miscarriage support forums to educate themselves on what might be happening with their lady’s lady parts. I just couldn’t picture it. Discussing the D and the C of a D&C procedure made me squeamish. He was a guy. I had to at least give him credit for looking it up and caring enough to find out what they did to me.

  I owed him at the very least a thank you, something for driving all the way to the Bay with me. We had ended up spending a few hours at the house. My dad ended up joining us and Thad was like a new man. No inappropriate comments. No cursing. We talked briefly about the divorce and the new school that the kids were going to attend. I sort of hoped that he would put an arm around me or hold my hand, but he never did. He wasn’t cold; he just wasn’t really hot either.

  He was silent in the driver’s seat. His window was down, and he was driving with just one hand. I watched the side of his face. It was a nice face, even from this angle. His jaw was nice and strong; he didn’t have that unsightly jowl thing going on. His hair fell artfully, effortless because I couldn’t imagine him messing with hair glue or gel or anything else in the mornings.

  Michael was… I had to stop comparing them. I didn’t have anyone else I could possibly compare him to besides Michael, but that chapter of my life was over. Michael was done, and I was done.

  I watched the way the light moved on his tattooed skin. The sun was going down, but there was no traffic on the route he had decided to take. Taking the 101 right from San Francisco would have been disastrous because of the time and the amount of traffic we would have encountered.

  The car was quiet. He didn’t put the radio on or anything. I wondered what he would listen to if it was on. Was he a talk radio or a music sort of guy? When the sun shone into his eyes, the brown warmed and looked closer to that than black. His coloring was so dark; I wondered what his heritage was.

  “If you stare at me any harder Buttercup, you’ll give me acne,” he said, without looking over at me.

  I immediately dropped my gaze. There was likely an art to this that I had just not had the chance to learn because I hadn’t dated since I was a kid.

  “I’m sorry,” I said meekly.

  “Did you see anything you liked?” he asked. He glanced at me, and he didn’t look mad. I wasn’t afraid he would be mad, I was just afraid he would be creeped out and like, ask me to go sit in the back or something.

  “You want to hear me say it? You’re a very handsome man, Thaddeus,” I said. He laughed.

  “True. You’re right,” he said, laughing some more when I hit his arm. “Tell me what got you first. Was it the eyes, the million-dollar smile?” he joked. I rolled my eyes and looked at him.

  “The face is alright,” I said, trying to sound bored, “but it’s what’s under your shirt that’s the main event.”

  “Oh yeah? What about what’s in my pants?” he asked, shooting me a look.

  “That’s what I came for,” I said quietly.

  “You better stop talking like that if you want to get back to Monterey in one piece,” he said.

  “What are you gonna do when you get back home?” I asked. “Did you have plans tonight?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t cancel,” he said, distractedly.

  I didn’t know what came over me. Scratch that, I did know. It was him, and I wanted him coming into me. I sighed and put the safety belt over my head, so it wasn’t across my chest anymore. I grabbed one of my tits in my hand and squeezed.

  “I don’t have any plans tonight either,” I said innocently. “The kids are out of the house. I have nowhere to be. I don’t know anyone in Monterey… besides you.” I watched him try to keep his eyes on the road as I undid the button on my shorts and pulled the zipper down. I slid my hand into my panties and felt over my folds.

  “Ronnie…” he trailed off.

  I sunk my hand deeper and rotated my fingers over my clit. The sensation made me close my eyes and sigh deeply.

  “Are your fingers inside of you?” he asked raspily. I slid two fingers past my opening and moaned softly.

  “I wish they were your cock,” I said breathily.

  “Fuck yourself on your fingers till you come,” he said. “I want you to be nice and ready for when we get home.”

  “My home?” I asked, imagining he would stay the night.

  “Mine. You’re coming home with me.”

  17

  Veronica

  We were barely past the threshold before Thad’s hands were on me and his tongue was in my mouth. He kissed me like he was starving; like he was dying of hunger and I was the best thing he had ever tasted.

  His bed, thankfully, was on a frame and not just a mattress on the ground. The weight of him alone got me going. He felt so large. He was so large. It made me feel like he could hurt me if he really wanted to, but he wouldn’t. I felt my heart thud as he kissed and licked my neck and chest. His teeth nibbled the lobe of my ear, and I felt my throat dry. It wasn’t the first time we were having sex, but we weren’t on a bed the first time. He wasn’t on top of me the first time.

  “You like to put on a show, Buttercup?” he asked gruffly into my ear. “Show me what you’ve got.” He moved off of me and pulled me to my feet. He sat down on the bed in front of me and started on the button and zipper of his jeans.

  “Start with your top,” he commanded. I blushed. He wanted me to strip for him. It had been easier in the car because his eyes weren’t trained on me so intently. He pulled his dick out and started jerking it in his fist as he watched me. I watched it harden. It was massive. I couldn’t believe I had taken it once before. I pulled my shirt off and let it fall onto the floor. I did the same with my shorts. His eyes were on the newly bare swathes of skin: my stomach and my upper thighs.

  I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. My tits had gotten bigger during the first pregnancy and never shrunk back to their original size after the baby was lost. They were slightly bigger than what was usually expected for my frame. He stared at them, even after I took my panties off.

  His penis was completely erect then. He pulled his shirt off and did the same with his jeans and underwear. I took in the sight of him naked. I could feel the moisture leaking out of me. I had never had a response this primal to a naked man before. I had never felt that much carnal desire for anybody in my life.

  “Come here,” he said, leaning back on his hands. I knew what he wanted. I walked towards him and lowered myself to my knees to suck his dick. “No,” he sai
d, tilting my head up to look at him. He pulled me onto the bed and leaned all the way back on the bed.

  “Ride my face,” he said, grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him. He parted my thighs on either side of his head and pulled me down to meet his waiting mouth. The contact sent a jolt of hot arousal through my whole body. I gasped and fought to keep my balance. I had been eaten out before but not like this. My legs were spread over his face, it felt so filthy, but I couldn’t resist. There was no way I would be able to stay upright while he did that to me.

  He held my hips firmly as his tongue licked up and down my wet seam. He sucked on my clit, and I had to stifle a scream. I didn’t want to look down because I didn’t want to find out whether or not he was looking up at me. If I saw his eyes while he was servicing me like that, I would have completely shattered.

  The sounds he made were borderline obscene. His hands pressed into my skin, stopping me from moving. When his tongue flicked over my clit, it felt like tiny electric shocks running through my whole body. I panted, desperate to be free of his hold but equally desperate for him to make me come.

  “Thad, I’m gonna come,” I said. I reached down and felt his hair. His tongue went faster pushing me to a blinding climax. I shuddered and moaned as his tongue worked my clit. I pulled his hair slightly and slumped over forward till my hands met the bed. He released me, and I crawled off, slumping, weak on the bedcover.

  He leaned down and kissed me. I could taste myself in his mouth which was more arousing than I thought it could have been. He grabbed me so he could pull me back under him and just massacred the inside of my mouth with his tongue. The hunger in his eyes made me nervous. We had all night; the sun had just gone down. I didn’t know what he would do to me, but I was excited.

  Reaching over to the bedside table he sat up briefly to fit a condom over his dick. He didn’t really need one because the chances of my getting pregnant were poor to zilch, but I didn’t tell him all that. I just told him I didn’t want him to use one.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I want to feel it when you come inside me,” I said. He positioned himself over me and slid his bare cock inside. He felt heavenly. Big, thick and hard. I met his thrusts when he started feeding it in and out. His girth made my lips stretch tight around him. I ran my hands through his hair and flattened my palms on his wide, muscular back.

  Every move he made made me writhe and squirm. It was incredible. I was soft and smooth where he was hard and rough. His body was stretched out over mine, holding me down. His hand took hold of my leg and held it up against my body opening me up even more. I cried out feeling him even deeper than before.

  My back arched as my orgasm came. My hearing dulled as heat and pleasure coursed through my whole body. I felt myself tighten around him, and he came shortly after. He didn’t move immediately as I had expected him to. I felt him soften inside me as he kissed me sweetly. He stroked my hair, and my face gently. He slid out, but he didn’t let me move. He placed himself behind me and hugged me to his body, tight, but not painfully.

  Bliss.

  I must have fallen asleep because I was up at something ridiculous like five in the morning. Thad was asleep behind me; we had been spooning. How the fuck was he still asleep, I was starving. We hadn’t eaten anything since my parent’s house the day before. I wriggled out from under his arm and looked around the room for my clothes. Deciding against wearing them, I just folded them and put them on the bed. I picked Thad’s t-shirt off the floor and pulled it on before heading for the kitchen.

  The house was just one bedroom, but he was just one man. It was small-practical, not small-cramped but very sparsely furnished. There was a couch, a coffee table and a massive television. The kitchen was worse. There was a toaster and a microwave. The stove was probably there because it had come with the house and there was a fridge which when I opened it held beer, water, a pizza box and some condiments.

  There were eggs, thankfully, which I fished out and sat on the counter. There was no cheese or peppers, or tomatoes or green onion or anything else I could have added to the eggs for flavor. There was some cooking spray however and salt and paprika. I checked the freezer, feeling I would have more luck there but no. There were some packs of frozen fish and chicken and vegetables.

  Ugh. Awful.

  What the hell did he eat?

  Searching through the cabinets, I stumbled upon the fresh produce section of his kitchen: two sweet potatoes and an onion. It would do. There was only one frying pan, but I could do a bare-bones sweet potato hash and scrambled eggs.

  I brewed some coffee remembering how he had asked for it when he was at the house and helped myself to a cup as I cooked. When I looked up, he was standing in the doorway like he had been there a few minutes already. He was naked except for his underwear. He watched me like he was really amused. I served the food onto two plates and set them down on the countertop because he didn’t have a dining table.

  “Good morning,” I said when he wouldn’t talk first. I searched the drawers for cutlery.

  “It’s the one to your right,” he supplied. I opened it and pulled out knives and forks for both of us.

  “I made some coffee too. I hope you like sweet potato hash,” I said. He kept looking at me, without a word. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have just waited till he got up or gone to McDonald’s or something to eat. He walked up to me and kissed my temple, holding me tight to his body.

  “What time did you get up?” he asked.

  “Half an hour or so ago… I’m sorry for making myself at home,” I said. He took some of the eggs on the end of his fork and ate them.

  “I liked watching you,” he said, “Don’t apologize. This is good,” he commented, trying the hash. We took our food to the living room where we sat on the couch.

  “I was searching for something to cook forever. What do you eat?” I asked him.

  “Whatever I can prepare by adding water or throwing it in the microwave,” he said.

  “Aunt Jemima and Betty Crocker, two-dollar whores,” I grumbled. He laughed.

  “Watching you, you seem to have your Stepford game down pat. Michael is an idiot for leaving you.”

  “I left him,” I clarified. “And, I don’t think he really wanted me in the first place.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He was looking at me like Dr. Drew. This was an intervention. I hadn’t talked about Michael… like really talked about him and our relationship with anyone. My marriage—failed marriage now—was a huge source of shame for me. I had given him everything, and he had made me feel like shit at every turn.

  I didn’t want to talk to Thad about Michael but if not him then who? There were therapists in Monterey, I was certain but, what if Thad just really cared and wanted to know? There was only one way to find out. I told him.

  “I just feel like, maybe he fell in love with the girl he thought I was or the girl he thought he could make me into. Not me. You know we dated since I was seventeen?”

  “That’s disgusting,” he said, his brow drawn. “You were a baby. It would still be gross if you were eighteen. He’s older than I am, right?”

  “He is thirty-three in a month. Bart hated his guts. My parents too. I should have listened to them.”

  “He’s gone now.”

  “And you’ve replaced him,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah,” he said, smirking. “I’ve replaced him. How do I measure up? I know Bart doesn’t hate me. Your mom was nice. Your dad too.”

  “My mom fell in love with you,” I said. He laughed. “She hugged you when we were leaving. She has never hugged Michael in her whole life.”

  “Is that the whole list? Is that everyone I need to impress?”

  “Depends on what you want to do,” I told him.

  “I’m not asking your parent’s or Bart’s permission to fuck you,” he said.

  “You don’t need it. Not to do that. Their opinion only matters if we’re in a relationsh
ip.”

  He had finished his food and put his plate down on the coffee table.

  “I thought you didn’t like the word ‘date.’”

  “It’s not that… it’s that I literally just got a divorce. The ink has barely dried on the papers, and I don’t know whether dating again so soon would be wise.”

  “You’re doing it again, Ronnie. You need to do what you want. First, it was that he hadn’t signed the papers, now it’s because he’s done it too recently. You don’t live with the guy anymore, but he still rules everything you do.”

  Goddamn, perceptive. Wise, sage, fucking smart asshole. Why did he have to be right?

  “I don’t want that anymore. I was in that marriage alone for years; I can’t keep living like I’m trapped.”

  “I am right here. You don’t have to look anywhere else for someone to help you get your groove back.” I smiled. Was that him being sweet? Almost.

  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “All I need is for you to keep doing what you did last night.”

  I could do that. I could be the untitled girl he was having sex with, and he would be my rebound after the divorce. He didn’t seem to be asking for more, which was good because I couldn’t, or wouldn’t offer more. I was scared. This was new, and maybe a nice noncommittal arrangement with this guy was what I needed to get my groove back, as he had put it.

  “Is there anyone else?” I blurted out.

  “There won’t be. As long as my cock is the only one you’re taking I won’t look for another girl.”

  I rolled my eyes taking a sip of my coffee. He laughed at the face I made.

  “I bet all the women of Monterey are waiting for me to leave so they can have you back.”

  “They’ll stay waiting until you don’t want me anymore,” he said. Again, it was nearly sweet but not quite there.