To Have and To Claim (Books 1 and 2): a Dirty DILFs Collection

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To Have and To Claim (Books 1 and 2): a Dirty DILFs Collection Page 39

by Taryn Quinn


  Oliver ignored him and lowered his voice to speak for my ears only. “No, he nicely informed me that you were too innocent for me, and not to make it personal if something happened between us.”

  “Oh my God, that asshole. I never liked him. I disliked him almost as much as I disliked you.”

  Oliver’s lips twisted. “As long as your dislike for him doesn’t take the same kind of turn as it did with me.”

  I jabbed my fist softly into his rock-hard stomach and he caught it, holding it there.

  Just like that, I melted.

  Staying mad at him was impossible. He’d been so sweet to me when I’d needed someone this weekend, and he was stupidly hot. I didn’t want to remain angry when I knew Ally and even Seth—though he was probably getting two knees in the balls after this weekend—only had my well-being in mind.

  “They don’t know that we…” I swallowed hard and laced my fingers with his. “I don’t want them to know. Okay?”

  His brow furrowed, and he hesitated before nodding. “Okay.”

  “I also don’t want this to end when we go back home.” I let out a shaky breath. “For as long as it works for us…both of us, I mean. No strings. No expectations on either side. Just fun. Exactly like this weekend, except on our home base.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but I fisted a hand in his silky shirt and leaned up to murmur near his ear. “Before you say yes, I mean only you and me. While I’m in your bed, no one else is. Got it?”

  “Agreed.” He slipped his free hand into my hair and cupped the base of my head, his expression fierce. “Same goes. I don’t share.”

  I shrugged. “Not like there’s anyone else who—”

  “And that needs to stop. Right this instant.” His touch against my scalp turned rougher and my nipples beaded, right there in line to see the so-not-the-King. “You’re a beautiful, smart, funny, beautiful woman.” He leaned down and nipped my lower lip. “Got it?” he echoed.

  I smiled against his mouth. “You said beautiful twice.”

  “Yes, and I’ll say it another thousand times before we’re through.” He turned me around in line and wrapped his arms around my waist, setting his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

  As if I’d had a choice. No strings? Yeah, right. Already I could feel them winding around me as surely as his arms.

  Not because of him. Because of me. Somehow he’d teased long-dormant wants to the surface, and I had no choice but to accept and enjoy what I had instead of what wasn’t possible.

  “Yes, and I’ll say it another thousand times before we’re through.”

  That was the most salient point. We would be through eventually. In the meantime, I would focus on pleasure and excitement and fun, and pretend I didn’t occasionally imagine other, much different outcomes.

  With Oliver. My frenemy.

  A man who couldn’t accept fake Elvis, but was waiting in line with me to see him.

  Who patiently stood and listened as said fake Elvis played both “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Blue Suede Shoes” and called me “honey” and “darlin’” and “love bug”.

  Oliver wore a tight smile through all of it, and held my hand the entire time.

  On the way out, I spotted a huge throne-like chair I suspected was for photo ops with pseudo Elvis. I made a c’mere gesture to Oliver and lured him to it, pushing him down and then crawling into his lap. He didn’t balk. Didn’t hesitate a beat when I leaned up to meet his mouth. He just pulled up my legs and kissed me as eagerly if we were in private, lost in our own dirty world of greedy kisses and velour and plastic palm trees.

  It was absolutely glorious.

  “Got it!”

  Dizzily, I turned my head to see the beaming clipboard lady flashing me her iPhone screen. And there it was, me cuddled into Oliver as if we were madly in love for all the world to see.

  Or just one grinning receptionist at the Hunk O’ Burning Love Chapel.

  “Send me that, please,” Oliver said huskily, giving her his email.

  I did the same, and marveled that he wasn’t pissed she’d gotten a picture of such an intimate moment. While we were in public, no less.

  Smiling, I reached up to brush that errant strand of hair off his forehead. “You, sir, have earned some time in the pool.”

  He leaped to his feet, still holding me. I laughed and clung to him for dear life. “Damn straight I have.”

  Ten

  Oliver

  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas—unless you happen to live in the same town as your new lover.

  I’d failed to realize exactly what keeping to Sage’s agreement would entail. Returning home and resuming regular life while she was part of mine in a much different way was more difficult than I’d anticipated.

  I didn’t like pretending we weren’t more to each other than what we’d been when we left for vacation. Sniping over nothing was natural and entertaining. Hiding the moments that came after wasn’t nearly as simple. When I glimpsed her rubbing her aching lower back at the diner and longed to draw her against me, I had to stop myself.

  That wasn’t what we were about. In public anyway.

  In private, she was eager moans and an adventurous spirit and so many needs wrapped up in laughter and smoky sensuality that was a joy to witness.

  At night, she was mine.

  All mine.

  During the day, I shared her with the world and pretended that was enough.

  But she’d set the parameters. Defined her boundaries. As much as I hated the subterfuge, I agreed that it was less bothersome to keep our relationship private. There were far fewer questions to deal with. Much less so-called helpful advice to wade through.

  I still didn’t like it. At all.

  Before we left for Vegas, I would’ve considered this the ideal setup. Easy—and frequent—access to sex with a gorgeous, inventive woman who required discretion. Not even just from Ally and Seth and the rest of the far too curious townspeople, though they were snoopy enough. But Sage’s parents were coming for a visit soon, hoping to be local for when Ally had her baby.

  Much as I rued the secrecy, I didn’t have any desire to meet the parents. Of course, I already had, many times. Sleeping with their daughter was a different scenario altogether, and I didn’t have a clue how to be…whatever this was. I never stuck around long enough to meet the parents of women I dated. Probably by choice. That smacked too much of permanency, and I was always one foot out the door.

  As I was now too. Right?

  Wrong.

  Rather than looking for my escape, I seemed to be seeking ways to entrench myself deeper. Not just in her sweet pussy night after night, though that was one of my favorite occupations as well.

  No, this was something far more dangerous. As was my need to goad her under the guise of keeping to her agreement. It was as if I wanted to see if I could break her. If she would finally let the secret out…and then what?

  I didn’t know, yet I still kept testing the limits. Testing her.

  Testing myself.

  “You’re sure you’re able to keep Laurie while Ally is in the hospital?” my brother asked, twirling his spoon through his coffee. “I can probably manage, and she won’t be in there long. They ship them out pretty much as soon as they squeeze out the kids these days.”

  There was an image I didn’t need while I finished lunch. I glanced across the diner booth at Ally, who seemed preoccupied and was staring off in the distance. Could be she wasn’t excited to hear about being shoved out of the hospital the moment after giving birth. Or else she was depressed over her life choices that had led to her becoming impregnated by and marrying my oaf of a brother.

  I still wasn’t happy with the asshole, considering everything that had gone down in Vegas. Knowing Seth had Sage’s best interest at heart didn’t change that he’d hurt her feelings with the way he’d phrased things.

  Things I’d unwisely repeated to Sage just to assuage my own concerns abou
t her using me as a handy virginity destroyer. I wasn’t proud of it.

  Then again, I had shared a womb with the jerk who’d spoken out of turn. What could I expect? We were, quite literally, cut from the same tattered cloth.

  “I said I could do it. You’ll have enough to deal with.” I shook my head and picked up my black coffee. I’d gotten three refills so far, and it wasn’t because I’d developed a sudden love of the diner’s burnt roast.

  I did have a rather new fixation on the hot-as-fuck waitress, however.

  We’d invited Sage to take her break and eat with us. I didn’t doubt if I hadn’t been with Seth and Ally, she would’ve taken them up on the offer. Having to crowd into the booth on my side and deal with my leading comments and questions—usually intended to try to slip her up in some way about our relationship—probably wasn’t the most relaxing way she could spend her precious few moments off the clock.

  I didn’t blame her. I also couldn’t stop. What I hoped to gain from my obnoxious behavior, I didn’t even know.

  For her to tell the world she was mine?

  She wasn’t. Her being in my bed most nights since we’d returned home—or me in hers—didn’t change that.

  Still, born from tattered cloth. And besotted by incredible sex. I could only be blamed for so much.

  “You’ve been working a lot lately.” Seth dumped more cream in his coffee. I was waiting for him to start ordering the cream pitcher with a dab of coffee in it. “Staying late at the office a lot, coming in later the next morning. If you’re going to be tied up with paperwork while you have Laurie, we’d just as soon have Sage help out instead.”

  My gaze lit upon the woman in question as she stopped to help the couple at the next booth, the Gundersons.

  “I’m sure if I’m unavoidably detained with work, Sage would be willing to assist me. Wouldn’t you, Sage?” I lifted my voice just enough for her to glance my way as she poured Mrs. Gunderson’s coffee.

  That was another one of my addictions—finding ways to get Sage to make eye contact with me. I sure as hell couldn’t stop watching her, so it only seemed fair she repay the favor.

  She nodded at me, indicating she’d be over in a moment. I frowned. She was rubbing her back again. Did she have ibuprofen in her locker? I could always run to the drugstore and pick up some if she didn’t.

  Hearing my own thoughts, my frown only grew. Christ, I sounded whipped. As bad as Seth.

  I could not be as bad as Seth.

  Could I?

  Ally glanced over her shoulder at Sage then returned her attention to the table. “I’m worried about her,” she said in a low voice.

  So what else was new? But I didn’t say that. Perhaps she knew something I didn’t. Being inside of Sage every night definitely didn’t make me privy to the inner workings of her mind. If anything, I’d say she was working hard at not sharing more of herself with me than her body.

  Not that I’d noticed overmuch.

  Jesus, I was going to need a journal like Sage if I didn’t kill this shit fast.

  “Why is that?” I drank more coffee. At this rate, I’d have to settle for texting Sage one-handed from the urinal.

  “She just seems awfully tired and out of sorts lately. She’s quiet when she comes over.”

  Of course she was quiet, since she had to hide her life. Her choice, but somehow it didn’t feel that way. It felt as if the decision she’d made had only partially had to do with her own desires, and her need not to be second-guessed by my family. Perhaps her own as well.

  “Maybe she’s depressed,” Seth said equally quietly, keeping an eye out for Sage’s arrival from the nearby booth. “She’s been different since Vegas.” This he delivered with a beady-eyed stare that hadn’t intimidated me when I was ten and certainly did not now.

  “She doesn’t seem depressed to me. I’d almost say she’s been ebullient when in my presence.” She approached the table, coffeepot in hand, her eyes narrowed on my nearly empty cup. I finished it off and grinned. “Isn’t that right? Look at that smile.”

  She rolled her eyes and held out a hand for the cup. Forgetting our shtick, I took the pot from her and poured my own, returning it to her as I noticed Seth closely watching the proceedings.

  Damn nosy bastard. That was a trait I absolutely did not share with him. I always stayed in my own lane.

  “Who says I’m depressed?” Before anyone could answer, she set down the pot and rubbed the small of her back. “I think you’ve got me confused with the obsessive caffeine junkie seated across from you. Though he’s not depressed so much as clearly needing a jolt. Or three hundred,” she added pointedly as I again picked up my coffee.

  Truth be told, I would probably need a detox program after this lunch. Water for me from now on.

  “You just seem a bit different lately is all.” Ally rested her hands on her enormous belly and flashed a wan smile. “Then again, everyone seems different to me. Damn hormones. I’m ready to get this baby out.”

  “Me too. We have a lot of time to make up for if we go for that nine we talked about.” Seth winked and she whacked him in the shoulder.

  “Not nearly hard enough,” I told her, leaning across the table. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

  “Children,” Sage said, her voice reeking with fatigue. “Save the schoolyard skirmishes for somewhere else. I’d hate to have to toss all three of you out.” She cocked her head at me. “Well, I’d hate to toss two of you out. The other I wouldn’t miss.”

  With that, she flounced off, but it felt false. Sage without a smile was like summertime without the sun. Her big green eyes had been flat, listless. As if she was going through the motions.

  We hadn’t been sleeping a lot lately. A few hours a night at most. There never seemed to be enough time to explore each other in all the ways we wanted. I had to believe she was experiencing the same urgency I was, since her needs were as omnipresent as my own.

  Clearly, it was taking a toll. She needed more rest. A real night off that didn’t just consist of fucking me—as obviously amazing as that had to be.

  Well, it was. I had my gifts. Being a braggart meant some inflation of the truth. My skills as a lover were legendary. At least in my own mind.

  Maybe I’d write that in her diary. Okay, no, I wouldn’t look in it. That wouldn’t be kosher. But I could slip a note inside without reading anything. She would smile at the very least.

  Fuck, I needed to see her smile.

  Or I could write her a note here and now. Why put it off? Ally was right that Sage wasn’t herself, if only because she was tired.

  I hoped it was only because she was tired, and not creeping dissatisfaction with—

  “Yo bro. You alive?” Seth pointed at me. “You’re almost as bad as Sage lately. Think you need to cool it with all the late nights. I know you’ve been trying to bring in lots of new business with springtime coming up. It’s appreciated, especially with the kid coming, and God knows I’ve been distracted.” He raked a hand over his hair.

  It was longer than mine, as usual, and he’d been growing in a short beard to go with it. I was back to my typical clean-shaven appearance after that one day in Vegas.

  What I wouldn’t do for Sage. It was disturbing. And even as I had the thought, I was digging through my wallet for a piece of paper to use.

  You’re whipped. Pureed. Practically mashed baby peas.

  Babies every-damn-where.

  “Sorry.” I yanked out a piece of paper. It was a receipt, but I could make it work. “Remembered a call I had to make to Jeff Connors when I get back to the office.”

  Ah hell, I’d forgotten I was meeting with Connors today. Sometimes lies came in handy.

  Slippery slope there, Hamilton.

  “See what I mean?” Seth shook his head. “This isn’t like you, man. You’ve always been a workaholic, but you used to balance it with a healthy social life too.”

  “I’ve turned to internet porn.”

  Ally braced a hand on h
er belly. “A keyboard is a shallow substitute for human interaction.”

  “You haven’t seen everything that Shyla Rabbit can do.” Neither had I, in fact. I only knew her name from an ad I’d happened upon one night.

  She did seem to be well…rounded.

  “I’m serious. What happened with you and Ursula? I thought you two had something going.”

  “Something.” I dug out my ballpoint pen from the inside pocket of my jacket.

  “It’s over then?” Ally sighed. “Your love life is like watching a season of The Bachelor, except you hand out roses all year long every year.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that you both spend far too much time concerning yourselves with Sage’s business? And my business? Is that part of being happily married? Suddenly you feel the urge to make everyone hate you with your know-it-all, smug behavior.”

  Seth appeared nonplussed. “Whenever he speaks more than two sentences in a row, he’s wound up. Wound up means struck a nerve.” He tapped his chin. “Did Ursula break things off?”

  I was going to have to go into the john to be allowed to write this damn note. Not to mention, Beavis and Mrs. Butthead were watching my every move. They probably thought I planned to slip my number to Jean.

  Luckily, Ally excused herself to the ladies’ room and Seth was much easier to distract. Especially when he was in counselor mode, sure he’d zeroed in on the source of my malcontent.

  “You know, you don’t have to act tough with me. It’s not as if I don’t get it. Shit, you saw me all messed up when Ally stopped talking to me.”

  “I certainly did. I also recall interceding in that situation and ultimately helping you.”

  “You did.” Seth cracked his knuckles. “I’m not sure she would’ve been ready to hear me out if you hadn’t gone to the cabin.”

  Sage’s laughter drifted to our table and I tapped my cheek. Hmm. The cabin. That held some possibilities.

  Especially since tomorrow was that most complicated of occasions for a new relationship.

  Valentine’s Day, aka a new lover’s Waterloo if the right tone wasn’t struck.

 

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