by Bethany-Kris
And one of her decorative pillows to help keep her quiet. She remembered exactly how much this man had enjoyed making her gasp and shout the last time he’d found his way between her thighs.
Not that Gracen had a complaint.
Malachi made for a good bedfellow.
Her request didn’t bother him. In fact, he stood just to drop another bruising, breathless kiss against her lips before his hands clasped behind her thighs where he could get a good lift. Her legs wrapped his waist while he navigated the two across the fluffy rug before he dropped Gracen to the bed.
Not very gracefully.
She didn’t mind that, either.
The second her back hit the bed, Malachi gave her every reason to be grateful for her current position when his head disappeared between her thighs. He toyed with her overtop her panties first. Little strokes of his fingers and soft kisses on top of cotton that made Gracen whine while her hips rocked against him for more.
“Easy,” she heard him whisper as his jaw nuzzled back and forth across the wet spot she could feel forming on her panties. “Standing up or laying down, Gracen, it doesn’t matter. I’m still getting my dessert.”
Yep.
She was thrilled for dessert to be her.
“Do you want that, do you want me to eat you?” Malachi asked.
Dragging her hands through the wavy, loose strands of her hair to fan it back over her bedspread, Gracen couldn’t take her eyes off the man lifting higher to hiver above her.
“Make me cum with your mouth,” she told him, “and I’ll let you finish in mine later.”
His grin turned wicked as his fingers that had been stroking the wet spot suddenly slipped under the gusset of fabric. He found her slick, begging to be touched, and more than willing to give into every sensation he was about to reap on her body. He spread her juices, stroked between her folds, and never once looked away from his task while he played with her.
God.
The sight of him, pleasured by pleasuring her while he licked the taste of her from his fingertips before touching her again, took the words and willpower from Gracen. She was nothing but a warm body she desperately wanted him to use. That was freeing, in a way.
It didn’t have to be more.
His thumb worked inside her tightening, soaked pussy, just a tease to make Gracen weak, before his mouth finally joined the digit. He tasted her, but then that tongue of his flicked higher until it was tunneling along the hood of her clit, and all she could see were stars behind her clenched eyelids.
Fuck being quiet.
She didn’t manage more than grasping at the bedspread before her moans started.
Chapter 12
The walkway along the front of Valleyview Manor was the only proof to its residents and guests that they weren’t at home in a cozy village like it sometimes appeared. Tucked away on ten acres just outside of town, the facility housed seventy to a hundred residents—mostly of senior age—who could no longer live unassisted at home or were in hospice at the final weeks or months of their lives.
The first time Gracen drove up the winding drive of Valleyview Manor, just after Mimi had her first stroke, the place scared her. From the parking lot that seemed too large to the dark gray stonework of the single floor building stretching on farther than even her eye could see. It felt like locking her grandmother away when they admitted her here when just a week before, the woman had been drinking her rum and tea and watching Wheel of Fortune with Gracen. Not that she had any choice in the end; there was nowhere else for Mimi to go, really.
Mimi definitely saw improvement in her first year after a stroke. Her steps forward promised maybe one day she could leave the manor to live at home—should Gracen move into a place that would be senior-friendly—and she had been willing to do that for her grandmother. Mimi’s one living child, a daughter, traveled more than she stayed in one place, and as that had become her job. She had no other grandkids but Gracen, yet, nothing worked out the way they hoped it would.
A second stroke two years after the first left Gracen’s grandmother struggling to walk, a fall-risk everyday, and the mood swings were unbelievable. The second stroke also brought a fall that left Mimi with an untreatable aneurysm that her family doctor could only sigh about when asked why her age would make a difference to whether or not she could get surgery.
Apparently, it did.
The man thought it would help Gracen if he pointed out that surgery wouldn’t guarantee anything, either, and it was almost certain her grandmother would remain at Valleyview Manor until her very last days. It didn’t help.
At all.
If anything, Gracen had been entirely out of her element when it came to getting power of attorney over her grandmother so that she had a safe, happy place where she was cared for and loved while her granddaughter tried to keep moving forward outside of stone walls.
“You better n-not take an-nother two weeks before you visit me again-n, my Gracen-n,” Mimi said, refusing to let go of Gracen’s fingertips while they continued their stroll of the manor’s grounds. She even released the throttle on her motorized scooter to shake a wrinkled, sun-spotted hand in Gracen’s direction. Eighty-six years on this earth didn’t mean anything to the fight Mimi could put up when she wanted; nor did the scooter.
Honestly.
Even her nurses said so.
Mimi shook her frail fist at Gracen again. “I mean-n it!”
Gracen smiled when the scooter jerked to a stop. A safety feature to keep the machine from driving forward because the throttle had no pressure. “Don’t get your blood pressure up. They won’t let me take you out for a walk when I come on Tuesday.”
The news surprised Mimi enough that her soft hand released Gracen’s when she continued walking forward on the path. The electric motor of the scooter whirled behind Gracen only seconds before her feet had to move out of the way of oncoming tires.
“Hey, watch it!”
“You watch it,” Mimi teased, her head of short, white curls bouncing with her laughter as she sped by Gracen on the path. “What about Tuesday?”
The old woman still had fun.
It reminded Gracen of how the two used to be when she still lived at home, and life seemed perfect in the present. Of course, nothing stayed the same.
“They’ll take your keys again, Nanna,” Gracen warned.
A real threat. The staff had done it once before when Mimi kept using the scooter inside the halls during the winter months when most of the pathways along the perimeter of Valleyview Manor weren’t cleared for walking. The residents didn’t need to test their non-existent balance on ice, after all.
Mimi liked her scooter, though.
Yet, everybody had to follow the same rules.
Gracen came to a stop next to the unmoving scooter, but that tiny smirk her grandmother didn’t try to hide said she wasn’t all that worried about getting her scooter keys confiscated.
“N-now,” Mimi said, unbothered by her constant stutter; a feat that took time and patience in itself, “what did you say about Tuesdays?”
No matter what people said to Gracen—doctors, nurses, whoever—she believed her grandmother’s mind was still as quick as a whip. She rarely missed a click. At least when it came to Gracen.
The first stroke hadn’t affected Mimi’s speech as much as the second one did. Gracen spent four of seven nights a week visiting her grandmother just so the two could do speech therapy together, so they could get back to communicating without tears and frustration. Those troublesome “n”s never gave Mimi a break, though.
“I really didn’t mean to cancel last week,” Gracen replied.
“What about the week before?” Mimi pressed.
Gracen didn’t have a good excuse for missing promised visits with her grandmother. Just the sad truth.
“Life’s a little busy. Last week, I just forgot.”
Truly.
It made her feel shitty to say it.
Gracen barely had time to
breathe on a regular day, but she understood she needed to make some. Just like her grandmother and the manor. Maybe she didn’t have a lot of available time to spend during their designated visiting hours considering they matched with her work hours at the Haus. Saturdays, which Gracen still worked, and Sundays—her only day off during the week—had extended hours for visiting the manor and were also days family could check residents out of the facility for a time.
No excuse, barring the past two weeks that had taken Gracen’s focus elsewhere, she showed up every weekend to see Mimi. Even took her to the falls on nice weekends when the weather permitted, and Delaney had time to come so that Mimi had the required second support person needed to sign her out of Valleyview.
“And Tuesdays?” Mimi asked.
See.
She still hadn’t forgotten about that.
Gracen grinned down at her grandmother before kneeling enough to catch her smaller hands in her own. “I volunteered Tuesdays to the manor. So now you’ve got me Sundays and Tuesdays, every week.” Unless it was a holiday, but Gracen would work on that, too. Those details weren’t important right now. “I filled out some paperwork before I came to your room, actually. They need to do a background check, but every Tuesday I will be here with my shears and kit to cut some hair, maybe do some colors, and talk all day if you want.”
She chose not to mention how the head of the manor’s acquisitions pointed out they were looking to hire someone on a full-time basis. Mimi would only grab hold of the wild idea and run with it, and nothing Gracen could say—reasonable or otherwise—would make a difference.
The news made Mimi beam all the same. She even tipped her head up to get a better look at Gracen through the frames of her tortoise shell glasses when she asked quietly, “Really?”
She clutched Gracen’s hands harder.
“Really, Nanna.”
The whoop her grandmother let loose drew the attention from others further down the walk near the fountain and benches along the side of the main building. Not that Mimi seemed to care about the people, or anything really, except the happiness that shot her forward again on her scooter.
The sight alone made Gracen’s whole day better. She’d been so careful during her visit with Mimi not to bring along the drama in her personal life. Not that her grandma would mind when just a handful of years ago the gossip over bingo had once been her top priority at least three nights a week. But she talked about those times of her life a lot less, now; Mimi often didn’t ask about people Gracen talked about, like Delaney, even, unless her granddaughter brought the person into the conversation first. As if she’d forgotten that the person existed for a time. The memory problems went further than just her nan’s inability to keep track of her crafting supplies in her resident suite.
Mimi would be interested to hear every single facet of Gracen’s life, of course. Even when she’d been a teenager, her grandmother never failed to be the safe, judgement-free ear whenever she needed somebody to listen. Then, the next week when Gracen returned for a visit, it would kill her when Mimi couldn’t remember the details of their previous conversation except for perhaps the people involved. Little else.
Keeping things focused on the present was easier.
All at once, Mimi’s scooter stopped a few feet ahead of Gracen, and she peered over her shoulder with a conspiratorial smile. “Do you think I could pull off purple?”
*
Unsatisfied with the tightness of her sneakers, Gracen redid the laces on her left foot while using the second bottom step of the staircase as a ledge. The rustling movement in the far bathroom had her leaning sideways as she bunny-eared the laces, but she couldn’t get a glimpse of Delaney’s newest distraction.
Something in the cupboard, by the sounds of it.
“You were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago,” Gracen reminded her friend.
“I know, I know!”
“The dinner starts in five.”
“Gracen, I know.”
She didn’t bother to add that everyone was probably already seated because there had been an “arrive by” time on the invitation that didn’t match the starting one. Delaney was aware of what she had done by finding this thing or that to make herself late to the engagement dinner because avoiding something she really didn’t want to do was easier than just getting it over with—not that Gracen blamed her friend.
“Okay, it’s better,” she heard Delaney mumble.
Gracen finished with her right sneaker as Delaney’s pointed toe stilettos clicked against the floors faster than before when she’d went in search for something in the bathroom.
“Sorry, I kind of made a mess digging things out in there, but I’ll fix it later,” Delaney said as she rushed past Gracen at the stairs. “Now, everybody’s going to see me when I arrive.”
“It’ll be fine,” Gracen assured.
Delaney didn’t looked like she particularly believed it while plucking her purse off the wall hook where she left it hanging everyday. “I just had a panic attack while trying to find clear nail polish in case I have a run in these damned pantyhose tonight because I wouldn’t have to give anyone a reason to call me a slut under their breath when I walked by. Fine—you think, really?”
Honestly, Gracen figured people were lucky Delaney put on a pair of hosiery under her dress to begin with considering the garment didn’t have a suggestive neckline, and even the loose skirt—a shimmering champagne that mixed nicely with the ivory long-sleeve bodice—fell below her knees. More than appropriate. She’d likely be one of the few people wearing color in the swath of guests, which would make Delaney stand out even more.
Good.
She hoped her friend’s ungrateful, hurtful family ate their fucking hearts out. It couldn’t be easy to swallow to see a human they didn’t try to nurture and care for still succeed in spite of them. If she cared to see her ex—and Gracen sure as hell did not—then she’d go as Delaney’s plus one with her favorite short and slutty club dress on just to give those uptight assholes something worth talking about.
But it wasn’t Gracen’s night.
And she just wasn’t the type.
“You look great,” Gracen told her friend.
For the tenth time, at least.
Delaney gave Gracen a tight smile over the same shoulder where she’d hung her purse. “Thanks—again.”
“It’s all you need to remember about tonight. You look great, you’re doing fine, and the only reason you’re even there breaking bread with people who have treated you like shit is because you’re the better person.”
“I might not be if somebody makes a comment,” Delaney muttered with the wag of one clenched fist.
Jokingly, mostly.
Delaney could handle herself.
“Don’t fight in heels,” Gracen told Delaney as her friend walked out the door with a slightly wider smile than before. At least now, it looked true. “It never looks pretty!”
“I’ll try to remember it.”
Gracen lingered in the front doorway, holding onto to the door to keep a crack she could hang out of while Delaney unlocked her Jeep. “One more thing?”
Delaney glanced her way, pausing at the back of the vehicle parked alongside Gracen’s Honda. “Did I forget something?”
“No—Malachi.”
The name made Delaney’s whole face brighten.
“Should I pretend like your secret boyfriend doesn’t exist, then?”
Gracen’s gaze narrowed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I don’t know ... I think when you start sneaking guys in your room while I’m in the shower, that might constitute a secret something,” Delaney teased.
Ah, yeah.
Delaney hadn’t been impressed with Gracen’s trick of getting Malachi in and out of the house before she even finished her shower the night before. She didn’t hide the fact that he had been there from Delaney, but her friend was not willing to accept that hooking up with Malachi meant nothing to Gracen.
>
Except it didn’t.
Where was a future with him?
She didn’t pretend like she could see it.
“Okay,” Delaney said the longer Gracen remained quiet, “I won’t talk to your secret tonight.”
At the sight of a familiar couple taking a stroll along the river’s boardwalk across the street, Gracen acted like she hadn’t heard Delaney’s comment as she waved hello. They only lived a few houses behind theirs.
“A secret fuck,” Gracen eventually said to Delaney, quietly. “That’s all.”
“Well—”
“No, really, Delaney.” She wanted to make this clear. “It was all random and stupid choices before last night. Now that I know who he is” —and how close he was, barely a stone’s throw, from her ex— “I see even less of a reason to get more involved with the guy than I already am. Besides, he’s not planning on sticking around town for long. Where exactly am I going, huh?”
Delaney didn’t have a quick comeback for that.
Gracen sighed. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, you’re already late, and I just wanted to ask if you would—for your information—say hello and tell him I said hi if you see him there. He wasn’t sure if he should go, either. Or that’s what it seemed like last night. Looks like you’re not the only one with a shitty family in this town that doesn’t deserve you.”
Unfortunately.
The unspoken felt most obvious.
Delaney shifted the purse from her shoulder to the crook of her arm and nodded at her waiting Jeep. “I gotta go.”
“Right. Be good, say hi, if you can.”
“I can do that. If he shows up, you know?”
Who knew what the night would bring?
Gracen waited for Delaney to back out of their driveway onto the main street before she, too, left their rented house. She locked the door, then hooked the key ring onto her lanyard she used for running. Although, she didn’t have anyone or any specific thing in particular to get to like her friend did. Just a long hike down the ATV trails at the back of town, and if her mind wasn’t clear by the end of it, then she’d continue up through the trails into Montgomery Mountain until she reached the water tower lookout.
