by Dee Ellis
“Come here. Mother and Father? They don’t even campaign past New York, Lola. You know better. Maine is home. You need to come back.” Poppy’s perfect visage slipped briefly, and I saw something ugly glide across her face. She fixed it fast, though.
“This. Is. My. Home. I have a job, friends, a home with Hunter.” There was fire in Lola’s voice, and my dick responded. Probably because I was knuckle deep in her tight pussy, too.
“I didn’t mean.... I just meant you can always come home. When you need to.” Her bright blue eyes, so bright they didn’t look real, and so goddamn empty, slid over me. I knew what that look meant.
“Excuse me? When I need to. I’m sorry...I needed to the weekend I married Seth and he.... Poppy, don’t talk to me like you know a single fucking thing about what my life is like. Or what it was like. Because you don’t. You can try to find out, or we can head back to O’Hare. Whichever suits you.” My fingers pumped faster and deeper as she ranted, her little hand wrapping around my wrist beneath the table.
Lola didn’t stop me, though. She needed it. Needed me to ground her, remind her I was right here. Would always be here. Maybe you do that with words, if you’re someone else. Or silently in some show of support. Me? I do it by making my wife come as she’s facing down her past. Poppy excused herself just as Lola began to tighten around my fingers.
“Do it, Darlin’. Right now. You come on my fingers and remember who you belong to. Where you belong. With me, right the fuck here in Chicago, baby. Come for me, Lola.” I urged softly, focusing on just her, just us, and this moment.
The place was packed and loud with families and college kids. We blended right in. Lola gripped the table, burying her face in my neck and moaning as she obeyed. Her body shook as she came, hard and long, her nails digging into the wood so hard she left marks behind. Her teeth sank into my neck and I growled, pumping hard, rubbing at that spot that made her go vice tight around my fingers.
As she lifted away, with that feather soft look on her face, her eyes heavy and soft, I was breath taken. A soft Lola punched me with so much love and need, I almost lifted her onto the table and fucked her. Sinking deep inside her was how I showed my love; I knew it wasn’t always enough. Right then, it might have been.
“Fuck, I love you.” Lola whimpered, leaning close and taking my mouth.
My free hand hooked in her short hair, tangling as I slid my tongue into her mouth. We ignored her sister, who was sitting across from us again. Ignored her even as she cleared her throat and tapped a foot. I didn’t lift away until I felt Lola soften all the way. Until I knew she was centered, strong again, ready to face her sister. My fingers slid from her heat the same time she let my tongue slip from her mouth.
“Here to visit me after years without even speaking to me, or here to run whatever mother and father sent you here for?” Lola leveled a gaze at her sister that would kill lesser people.
“To visit. I miss you, Lola. They do too, and I think they expected me to be able to convince you.... doesn’t matter. I’m here to see you.” Poppy smiled, dabbing at her eyes in an obvious move to soften Lola to her. It failed.
“Don’t spend your time here telling me about how I’m missed, how I am welcome home and always will be. I wasn’t welcome when I needed to be. Maine is not my home now. Seth is not part of my life and never again will be,” I tightened my grip on her, and she cuddled close, soothing me this time,’ Chicago, Hunter—that’s my home. My life now. Accept it, Poppy, or this visit is a waste of both our time. Let’s go.” I was proud of her, but worried no matter what speech she gave, Poppy wasn’t hearing her.
Because Poppy was here for the wrong reasons. To put in work to get Lola back to Maine, likely at her parents’ request. Too bad they didn’t count on me. I’d do whatever it took to see that didn’t happen.
If I had to fuck my lady on the table at a pizza joint or in the middle of Auburn Park. With her sister and the entire world there to witness. I wasn’t letting her go, even if I had to play dirty. Even if it meant using the way she responded to me, to my touch, to the edge I kept her on. Anything to be certain she stayed right the fuck here.
Anything included tolerating Lola’s little sister during her visit. The debutante was spoiled, uppity, and icy cold towards Lola. If I had my way, it wouldn’t have just been the first time she’d seen her sister in almost four years; it would be the last time, too.
Lola made her dinners and tried to tell her about her life here. With me, with the girls, at the library, even a little about the fire station she and Gigi had begun using as an art studio. Poppy didn’t give two shits. No, she didn’t come here to visit with her estranged sister.
For every story Lola told about her time away from her family, Poppy told two about their successes. If Lola told her about her art, about the detailed and amazing graphic novel she was working on, Poppy spoke of the more classic art Lola had been trained for. Every time Lola talked about her future here, Poppy dismissed it and spoke of her working alongside her little sister again. On the campaign trail, back in Maine.
By the third day, I had the bitch figured out. Lola was right in her accusations. Poppy was here on a mission, nothing more or less. Tie up the loose ends they considered Lola to be. Tolerating her and her bullshit by then was wearing on my patience.
Lola wasn’t a loose end. That’s all they saw her as, though. A wayward daughter with a stalker junkie of an ex-husband who fled to Chicago and lived however she wanted was like a dark cloud raining down on their fucking parade. They sent her baby sister to lure her back home. Too bad her home was with me now.
“Poppy,” My voice dripped with southern charm the first moment I had her alone, “I see you. See what you want to do here. You think my Lola will come home due to some dated idea of the family dues she owes. Get right with this—Chicago is her home now. I’m her family; Gigi, Charli, the Coopers, and Sara, are her family now. Lola wants different things now.” Poppy blanched just briefly, but she recovered quickly.
“You barely know my sister. You don’t know who Lola really is; just a bullshit persona she’s wearing like a flashy coat. The hair, the loud personality, the filthy mouth. It’s cheap flash. To protect her from the truth; she’s a Lawton down to her marrow. Lola will come home because she wants to. When she craves more. Because she will, once she realizes your cute little life here is hardly enough for her expensive pallet.” Lola walked into the tense moment, and Poppy slid on a bright smile as I was left stunned.
I do know Lola. I knew she cared more about dusty books, greasy breakfast, and the colors that painted her novel world however she saw fit. What if Poppy was right? If our meager life—a tiny condo in a middle-class part of a dirty, chaotic city—lost its color? If it became monochromatic, and she craved the bright colors fortune and privilege could provide her?
I thought better of my Lola. I knew she didn’t marry me just because I asked. Lola married me because she loved me and she wanted the bright, noisy future I wanted to give her. But if her sister could convince her the calm grays of her former life offered her something more, I could lose her.
I couldn’t let that happen. I loved her too much to let her world become murky and dark again. I’d do anything to keep it bright and loud and colorful, just like she was. That was Lola, to the marrow. Not the washed-out hues of her sister and parents. That was the Lola I knew, the one I loved. Loud, colorful, and noisy with a filthy mouth.
I had to report to work, but I was uneasy leaving them alone. Before I made it to the station, I made an important stop. The old fire station on Market was to be my last effort to anchor Lola to me, to Chicago, to a future for us both. One that negated any chance of her wanting to rush back east, family loyalty or not.
A wedding band tattooed in my skin might not be enough, but I hoped this would secure the future I wanted with Lola.
14
Hunter Byrne might be the sexiest, dirtiest, saint that ever was. I’d nominate him, anyway. My thighs are sore, my
sex is tender, my tits ache, but I am sated and content. Even as my baby sister tries to run game on me she is hardly skilled enough to pull off.
“Mother was going to ask you the last time we spoke on the phone. Sunday dinner, remember? Anyway, I thought I’d get you two talking so she could ask you. Instead, Mother was terrified you’d reject her.” For four days, Poppy had relentlessly mentioned our mother.
Not our parents, as the united front they pretend to be. Not father, whom never quite connected with me on a human level. Just mother. Who, once upon a time, I can remember feeling close to. It was brief, just during the tender years between childhood naivety and teenage rebellion.
It’s a time I remember fondly, but not one I expect to ever experience again. Because power and greed closed that door long ago. I’m okay with it now, but Poppy’s visit, and her constant reminders of mother, have been less than pleasant.
Hunter has been a fucking saint. Who knew a tattooed beast of a man, with a King Kong dick and filthy mouth, who kept me on constant edge, could be so saint-like. Between tours of the city and attempts to connect with the sister I barely recognize, he’s kept me grounded. Mostly by keeping me just this side of an orgasm at all times.
Hunter is touching me, in dirty, fantastic, or impossibly sweet and tender ways at all times. Making me come under the table at dinner, in the ladies’ room at Navy Pier—Poppy insisted on a day spent there—and now in the pool the guys had just finished installing at our condo.
Poppy had refused to join us, laying in the sun as she drolled on about father’s campaign. Discreet touches changed to my suit being tugged aside and Hunter thrusting into me from behind. Being connected to him this way, with her talking about a family I don’t feel a part of anymore, is all that’s gotten me through her visit.
Beneath the water, with the bright sun overhead, you can’t see him thrusting his hips. Not that Poppy would notice anyway. After he gives me yet another orgasm meant to keep me this side of happy, I hear her still talking. Going on about how they wanted to talk to me.
I am up the stairs and out of the water, crossing the distance towards her. My vision blurs red at the edges, I’m so angry. So tired of hearing it all. My baby sister had turned out just like them and it enraged me so much, I could hardly stand to look at her.
“Bullshit. Mother knows where to find me, so does father. Four years, Poppy. None of you even bothered to look.” Poppy’s mouth twisted as I dripped over her, ranting so loud it hurt my own ears.
“Darlin’.” Hunter’s deep, southern twang centered me as he pressed close behind me.
“Lola...I never knew you wanted to come home. I would have begged you to years ago. Now...” Poppy shook her arms out, standing to level an icy look at me.
“Now it’s too late, yeah? Good. Four years is long enough to forget the twenty-two years before? I see.”
It was too long into her visit to pretend that we cared to catch up now. We were strangers, and we both seemed fine with that truth. Whatever mission my parents had Poppy on was the only thing keeping my little sister here.
“Four years. Try eight. Or longer, Lola. You were gone the moment Seth became your whole fucking life. Your whole world. You forgot who I was, who our family was, and certainly who you were. This is not the Lola I knew. I don’t even know if it’s the Lola you were with Seth. You’re a stranger to me.” Might as well have slapped me; her words were that harsh, laced with unbidden rage.
“Then why come here? Why bother? I can answer that for you. Daddy is running for house now, yeah? Wants all the loose ends tied up? I’m his fucking daughter, not a loose end. I don’t want a thing from him or mother, or you. You play the doting daughter, pose pretty, stay east of Chicago, and we can all be done with this fucking charade.” I stormed past her and inside, tears blurring my vision.
All week I had tried. Hunter had hovered the first few days, but work had put an end to that. I took her out for lunch and talked about the past four years, both good and bad. When I spoke of Seth, she bristled. I knew she was engaged to his brother, Bart, now. Seems our parents, on both sides, always had a backup plan. Seth was fucked up, but at least he didn’t pretend like the rest of them. He wore his ugly for the world to see.
I’d deduced that with her readying to marry, and both Seth and I no longer playing their game, our parents put pressure on them both. To do their part to fill in the holes our mistakes had left. Which explained Seth’s aggressive tactics as of late. His days living the high life as a spoiled, rebellious man-child were numbered.
“You are what allowed him that. He got to live that life, quietly and out of the public eye, as long as the possibility of you two was still alive. Now, it’s not.” Hunter had growled just last night.
Of course, it wasn’t. I was never going home. Never going back to Seth. I would never leave Hunter. My eyes flashed to my hand, gripping the doorknob to our place. That red ring with its tiny anchor centered me. Almost the same way Hunter’s touch did.
“Darlin’.” Just before I step inside, Hunter is there, thick arms roping around me.
“Mmm, I love you.” I will never get used to saying it, feeling it, knowing it’s true.
“I love you, Darlin’. Come with me.” Will also never get used to hearing that sweet, sexy drawl of his saying it back.
I’m leading the way, but Hunter is in control as we head down the hall. Though he’s given us space the past few days, he’s been there to listen to me fall apart at night. To remind me I have something now. Here. With him. And Gigi and Charli and the Cooper boys. Levi and sometimes his badge bunnie wife. I don’t need my parents nor my sister now.
Truth be told, this Lola, she doesn’t even want them. Because I want people like Hunter and Finn and Cage, who love their families and their women. Who show it and say it. Who basically live by it. I want women who build me up, like Gigi and Charli.
I want to work at the dusty old library and giggle like high school kids with Charli about romance books and kids making out in the corners. Sometimes those kids are her and Cage, but I digress. I don’t want to smile and wave while my father speaks about issues I don’t believe in.
No, I want to paint and sculpt beside Gigi while she frames gorgeous photos in that awesome old firehouse we’ve been using as a studio. That’s what this Lola wanted.
“Wait.” I whispered even as Hunter climbed over me, damp from the pool.
“Darlin’, I am an impatient man concerning getting inside you.” The bed still trembled from him tossing me atop it, and we both laughed, exchanging a look.
“Husband. Wait.” Cooing at him, I cradled the sides of his face, my thumbs smoothing over his full lips.
“Talk to me, Lola Bear.” Hunter slid his thick arms beneath me, cradling me, but hovering over me still.
“I love you. I love Chicago. I love my girls and their Cooper boys. I love the library and Sara. I love what Gigi and I are doing at that cute old fire station. I thought Poppy coming to visit might be good for me. Give me closure or grant me an olive branch. Either one, I’d have been good with.” I sighed as he bent forward, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, my nose, my lips.
“I know, Darlin’. Those weeks talking to your sister, I thought it might not turn out the way you wanted, but fuck if I didn’t want it for you. Some peace. To quiet the past, because I know it’s loud in your head. That’s why Pittsburgh, why Chicago. To drown it out, to hide in the chaos and noise.” Looking away from him, because he saw me even when I was hiding, I nodded.
“Then you looked right at me and saw me.” My skin flushed as he looked me over, with that look that always made me weak. He always saw me.
“I did, Darlin’. I saw you.” That husky southern drawl made me shudder, every time.
Hunter lifted up on palms flattened on either side of my head, taking his weight and warmth with him. For long moments, we didn’t need words. We got naked, quick work since we were in bathing suits, and then I remembered. I had more that needed s
aid. My hands at his sculpted chest, tracing the tattoos there with my fingertips, paused his move to press close again.
“I don’t…I don’t need you to protect me anymore, Hunter.” I pressed barely there kisses over his chest, tracing the ink I knew by heart.
I feared for some time that’s all this was. Hunter getting to play hero, save the messy, fucked up girl and get laid as his reward. Sometimes, I still wondered. Would I always need him to rescue me? If I didn’t, would he still need me? Still want me?
“Course you do, Darlin’.” Hunter bent to capture my lips in a kiss, searing and hot, and I almost lost my head.
“No. I mean, yes. I do...what I mean to say is...” Hunter rocked his hips once and I mewled, pressing my face into his bicep and biting hard.
“Mmm, what you meant is you don’t need it, but you do, and that’s okay. You don’t want it, but you do, which is okay too. I want to protect you, to take care of you, to make you happy, to give you everything you want. Right now, I want to be deep inside you, making you come around my cock. Whatever you want, though, baby.” Another buck of his hips and the heavy metal of his piercing hits my clit just right.
“Jesus, H, baby....” My head falls back, and his mouth is at my throat.
Sucking, biting, licking, marking me. Always marking me. Staking his claim. As if the bright red ring around my finger is not enough. And maybe for him, it isn’t. Which ignites something feral and possessive because maybe it’s not enough for, me.
“I want a reception. Soon. Once Poppy leaves,” I arch my hips from the bed, seeking the connection he’s taunting me with, “I want to celebrate being your wife.” My hands curve over his bald head, steadying his gaze so it meets mine.
“Anything you want, Darlin’. Tell me and I can make it happen.” Hunter lit up suddenly, shifting over me to watch me.
