by K. C. Crowne
I was in bliss and lost control of my arms. I cried out his name, louder than I probably should have, and savored the intense feeling of pleasure coursing through my body.
When the final wave had passed, I collapsed on top of him, but my legs and arms still trembled from aftershocks.
“Roll over.” His hands guided until I was on my hands and knees at the edge of the bed.
His throbbing cock pressed against my opening from behind, and I pressed backward, wiggling my ass to tease him. He thrust into me roughly, grabbing my hips and holding them steady as he fucked me from behind.
Now he was close. I could hear it in his breathing and the animalistic groans escaping him.
My head fell forward into a pillow, drowning out the cries. I clenched my Kegels around him, feeling him pulsate and throb. That brought a deep, low moan as he buried himself balls deep. I wanted to make him feel so good.
“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into me one last time.
I cried out, “Yes, yes, cum inside me!”
The mere idea of him filling me with his seed took me to the edge again, and if it wasn’t for his hands holding me up, I’d have fallen onto the bed, writhing in pleasure as I came for a third time. His cock throbbed inside me, pumping me full of cum.
We stayed like that for a moment after the last of our orgasms had subsided. When he finally slipped his cock out of me, there was a rush of warmth on my inner thighs - a reminder of what we’d done. I fell onto the bed and rolled over to my side. Cyrus climbed into bed beside me, pulling me against him. Our lips met and we kissed. It wasn’t the kiss of two people rushing to get into each other’s pants like before. No, it was a sweet, lingering kiss. The type of kiss that gave me hope that maybe there was something more between us than just a fling.
I pushed that out of my head, trying to focus on the moment. But with everything going on, once the euphoria had passed, I went right back to thinking about our potential arrangement and what that might mean for the two of us. I stared deep into his eyes, trying to understand what would make him care so damn much for us but couldn’t find the answers. I’d have to wait until he told me, if he ever did.
My eyes grew heavy with sleep, but I tried to fight it.
He kissed my forehead and then the rest of my face until his own breathing grew relaxed and even. His heart slowed down, no longer thundering in his chest, and I knew he was asleep.
I followed soon after.
Ooo000ooo
I awoke to the sunlight streaming through my windows, almost blinding me. My alarm was going off nearby, and I reached across the bed to try and shut it off while half blind. I finally found it, slapping the off button. It took me a second to remember why I was naked in my bed.
Then it hit me, I was also alone.
I sat up and came to, piecing together the events from the night before. It was six-thirty in the morning. Cyrus was gone.
My heart dropped even though I knew it shouldn’t. We weren’t together, officially, and we’d made it clear to each other that we weren’t looking for anything serious. Why should I expect him to stay over?
But I couldn’t argue with my emotions, and it still hurt to wake up to an empty bed after the night we’d shared. I wished he’d at least said goodbye before he left instead of sneaking out in the middle of the night like a teenager.
After a few moments, I pushed myself out of bed. I had to get moving; no time for pouting. As I stood up, something caught my eye on the side table.
It was a note with my name hastily scratched on the front. I picked it up and opened it. As I read it, a smile pulled at my lips.
Josie,
Sorry I had to leave before you woke up. I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed to be exhausted. I have a sunrise hike this morning, had to leave well before the dawn. I enjoyed our evening immensely. We’ll talk soon.
Cyrus
Feeling much better, I quickly got ready, having an extra bounce in my step. There was still the lingering fear of Wade in the background, but I had some hope that maybe we could figure a way out of the situation. Cyrus gave me hope.
I threw on my night shirt and went down to check on Milo. When I got to his room, however, his bed was empty. My heart stopped for a moment, thinking someone had broken in and kidnapped my child. Then I heard the television in the other room and heard my mother’s voice. Relief washed over me.
I walked down the hallway, glancing in the living room. They weren’t there. Mom must have heard my footsteps. She peeked around the corner from the kitchen.
“In here. Just giving him his breakfast. I have some for you too.”
I joined them in the kitchen, kissing Milo’s head as I walked by him sitting in his highchair. There was bacon and eggs on the table.
“You got back in early,” I said, grabbing a piece of bacon from the plate.
“Well, I knew you had to work today.”
“I figured I’d go in later, let you have some time for you and Darlene.”
“Ah, it’s fine. She had to work today too,” Mom said, brushing it off.
I sat down at the table and Mom handed me a plate. “Eat up. After last night, surely you need it.” She winked at me, and I stared back at her blankly. She continued, “I saw Mr. Hunky leave this morning when I got home. Seems like a nice man. Nice on the eyes, at least.”
My cheeks burned red. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be home so early.”
“It’s alright, sweetie. You deserve to date,” she said. “And I trust you to be careful who you bring home. Must mean you’ve gone out before, huh? If you’re bringing him home to meet Milo.”
“Sort of, yes. We work in the same field.”
Mom took the seat across from me, grinning like a fool. “And how come this is the first I’m hearing of him, hmm?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think we’re that serious. Didn’t think there was anything to talk about yet.”
“Yet?” Mom cocked an eyebrow as she loaded her plate with bacon and eggs.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Which was the truth. Until I knew for sure what was going on with Cyrus, if we decided to move forward with the fake marriage, I wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions. If I had to leave town, it meant leaving Cyrus behind too. More reason not to get attached. All the giddiness from earlier flushed right out of me as reality set in.
“Well, whatever happens, I’m sure glad I got to watch him leave. That ass made my morning.”
“Oh Mom.” I chuckled even though my cheeks burned red. She had a point, though. He really did have a nice ass.
Chapter 12
Cyrus
“Nice to meet you, Cyrus. I’m Peter. This knucklehead is my son, Zach.”
Peter nudged his son, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen. He was still green around the gills, at that awkward stage where he wasn’t really a kid but wasn’t yet a man. His hair was shaved short to his head in a military-style haircut like his dad’s. He had braces and acne and looked to have gone through a growth spurt recently as he was tall and lanky and looked like he had no idea what to do with his arms and legs.
“Nice to meet you, Zach,” I said, reaching out to shake the kid’s hand.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Whitaker,” Zach said, surprisingly polite. He shook my hand. A nice, firm grip. Probably learned from his father.
“So what brings you out here today?” I asked.
The sun hadn’t risen yet, and we were at the base of my favorite trail - a difficult one. His dad had said his son was fairly fit, but I wasn’t so sure about that now. He seemed a bit thin. He didn’t seem like the type of kid who played sports, and he was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Not exactly hiking attire. I had second thoughts about the hike, which was why I was asking about what they wanted from the experience. I figured we could always cut it short if getting to the top wasn’t that important.
“Well, I need to teach this one a lesson.” Peter slapped Zach on the back hard enough for
it to make a sound. Zach cringed but tried to hide it. “He’s failing in school and takes his mom and me for granted.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and gave Zach a once over. Most teens seemed to take their parents for granted. It was almost a rite of passage. But without more information, it was hard to know if it was an issue or not. Besides, I wasn’t a therapist. It wasn’t for me to judge.
Zach rolled his eyes and whispered, “I got a B in English. I’m not failing anything.”
Before I knew what was happening, there was a loud thud and Zach’s head snapped forward. His dad stood beside him, scowling. “Boy, don’t you talk back to me.”
“Hey, now,” I said. “I don’t think it was necessary to—”
“I’m his dad. He should respect me.”
Those words took me back to my childhood. My father would often scream at me about respecting him, right after he beat the shit out of me. Zach stared at the ground, no longer making eye contact, but he’d pushed up his sleeves. Bruises covered his arms and his knuckles were busted up.
“Get into fights at school?” I asked, though I had a feeling I knew that wasn’t the case.
“No, sir,” Zach spoke up, sounding almost defeated. “My dad says I need to learn to defend myself better.”
“He lets those sissies at school boss him around,” Peter sneered. “He needs to toughen the hell up.”
I was seeing red. I tried to tell myself that my own personal experiences might be coloring the situation, but that wasn’t helping. There were red flags all over the damned place.
“That’s why we’re taking the hardest hike you have, and if that doesn’t straighten his ass up, we’re coming back for your military bootcamp sessions. I ain’t raising no cowardly shithead.”
That was it. The combination of how Peter talked about his son, watching him hit the kid in the head, and seeing the dejection on the kid’s face, told me all I needed to know.
“Listen, maybe you need to give him a break. He’s what, thirteen? Fourteen?”
“I’m twelve, sir,” Zach said, still not meeting my gaze.
“He’s a kid, man. Give him a break.” That was my attempt to talk some sense into the asshole. It failed.
“Who the hell are you to tell me how to raise my boy?” Peter got right up into my face. He was almost a foot shorter than me and probably half my weight. It took some balls of steel, which men like him often had. They thought they were big and bad because they could bully a little boy, but they’d never faced off with a real man before.
I grabbed Peter by his shoulders, and without thinking, I pushed him backward into his truck. I didn’t hit him, I just held him there, letting him know he couldn’t push me around.
“How’s it feel to be picked on by someone bigger than you? Not fun, huh? Imagine how your son must feel. He’s just a little boy.”
Peter spat in my face. I raised my hand, my vision going red. It felt like an otherworldly force was bringing my arm up to hit him, but somehow, I managed to force it back down. No, I wasn’t going to resort to violence.
I let go of Peter. As soon as I let him go, Peter swung at me but missed. I grabbed his arm and flipped him around, pinning him to his truck. His face was pressed against it. I leaned in close and said, “You think you can bully everyone you meet, don’t you? Well you can’t. If you try that again, I won’t hesitate to break your fucking arm.”
I pulled on it, giving it just enough force to make him squirm and cry out in pain. I wanted him to know I was serious. I didn’t want to hurt the guy, I didn’t believe more violence was the answer, but I would fuck him up if he continued trying to come at me.
I let him go again, and he turned around. I watched him closely, making sure he didn’t have any dumb ass ideas. He rubbed his arm. Just like my dad, he was a wimp when it came to dealing with real men. He thought he was tough shit, but he was nothing compared to me. I wished someone would have taught my dad a lesson. Hell, I wish I could have been the one to teach him a lesson.
“Zach, get in the truck.”
“Yeah, get the fuck outta here,” I said. “And don’t be surprised when Social Services shows up at your door, because I’m reporting your ass for abuse.”
Peter stared at me with a look of shock on his face probably because he didn’t see what he did as abuse. Many abusers didn’t. They felt justified in their actions, just like Peter did. Clearly. He smirked at me. Zach was taking his dear time to get in the truck, dragging his feet. I felt bad that he’d have to deal with his father’s bad mood.
“Zach!” his dad screamed. “Get in the fucking truck. Now!”
Zach moved a bit faster, and I felt sorry for the boy. I really did. If I could have stopped him from leaving, I would have. But the kid was a minor, not a relative to me, and I wasn’t sure if it would be considered kidnapping. Since I couldn’t stop him from taking his son home, I did the only thing I could think of to help.
“Just know, I mean it. I will report your ass, and if you lay another finger on that boy, you will regret it.” Peter and I shared a look that said he was calling my bluff. “I have your address from the credit card payment for this hike. I know where you live. If I even suspect you hurt that boy again, I will break both your fucking arms.”
Maybe there was something in my eyes, but Peter’s cocky ass grin wavered at last. For a moment, he looked downright scared. He didn’t say anything as he climbed into the driver’s side of his truck. Zach watched me from the window, offering a smile of his own and a wave. The kid appreciated watching his father get shoved around a bit. Not that I blamed him. There was nothing like watching a bully get put into their place.
And I meant what I said about CPS. I was going to report his ass so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him. I felt helpless to do more than that, afraid the system might fail poor Zach. But there wasn’t much else I could do for him. Hopefully things were better than they were when I was a kid. Then again, no one ever called Child Protective Services on my dad. Perhaps if they had, my life would have been different.
I was already at the trailhead and still full of rage. I decided I’d take the hike myself to clear my head.
With every step I took, I thought about Milo. If Wade was anything like I thought he was, Milo might end up like Zach. At the will of a father who takes his frustrations out on his boy, who thinks beating the shit out of a kid builds character. That could be Milo standing there, his eyes downcast, bruises on his body.
No, I couldn’t let that happen. I could only do so much for Zach, but I could do more for Milo.
I was so lost in thought that it took me by surprise when I walked over the final hill and saw the sun rising over the valley. I stood at the crest of the hill, in awe of the beauty. The crisp mountain air smelled sweet, reminding me of all the good things I had going for me in my life. Maybe my past was shitty, but it didn’t define who I was today.
I stood there for what felt like an eternity, contemplating everything going on. Maybe it was a sign, I thought. My dad died just as Josie needed my help. I’d wanted to do something good with that money to make up for all the terrible things my father had done in his life.
Everything - from the money I inherited to finding out that Josie was in a similar situation as my mother to meeting Zach and Peter. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
I didn’t think so.
In that moment, I made my decision. I’d do everything I could to help Josie and Milo, I’d hand over every dime of my father’s money to them if that’s what it took. I’d protect them at all costs. I’d make up for the bad in the world by doing something good.
As the sun moved even higher in the sky, I knew what I was going to do. First thing’s first, I had to call CPS on Peter and try to get Zach the help he needed - help I never got from anyone at his age.
And next, I would set up a meeting with Josie to tell her I was in. I’d be her fake husband and Milo’s pretend dad. I’d give that boy opportunities I never had.
Chapter 13
Josie
“Owen, check this out!” the little girl’s voice sang out. “What do you think this one’s called?”
Owen was eight years old, while his sister Violet was six. Their parents were on vacation and had set up an easy family outing and had wanted a guide to point out the local wildlife and plants. Violet, whose name was fitting, was obsessed with knowing the names of all the flowers. Owen was a great big brother, never too far behind or in front of her, and always there to check out anything she wanted to show him. Their parents, Jake and Sarah, were behind Violet and Owen, staring down at a couple white flowers.
Owen pinched his nose. “Ew, I bet it’s called the stinky butt flower.”
“Owen!” his father scolded, trying to hold back the laughter.
I came up behind them and chuckled. “Well, he’s close. It’s called Stinking Chamomile, and I’m sure you can figure out why.”
Owen nodded and stepped back. His sister held her nose but continued looking at the flower with fascination. She reached out to touch it, but Owen grabbed her hand, ever the protective and concerned little brother. More likely, he was afraid she’d carry the smell with her.
“I think they’re pretty. Who cares if they smell bad?”
“I’m sure we can find some better smelling flowers, Violet,” her mother said sweetly. She took the little girl’s hand. Jake took Owen’s and the five of us walked a bit further down the trail.
“I know of a place with tons of wildflowers, Violet. Not too far from here.”
“Please tell me they smell better than that one,” Owen said dryly.
“Yes, they should,” I laughed.
Seeing the small family out and having fun tugged at something deep inside me. They seemed so perfect. Violet with her hair in pigtails, bouncing along the trail without a care in the world. Her brother with his dry sense of humor, which I could tell he got from his father. Sarah and Jake held hands often, exchanging sweet kisses whenever they could get away with it.
