by M. S. Parker
I went straight home and called him, putting the phone on speaker so I could talk while I made something to eat.
“So.” I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible. “Did you have a timetable for this move?”
“As soon as possible?” He made it a question and I knew he'd done it so he wouldn't sound pushy.
“My lease won't be up for a few weeks,” I said.
“Too long.”
I smiled as I filled a glass with fruit juice. “Well, I could probably convince my super that he can use the time to find someone to take the place early. And since I won't be paying rent on my new place...”
“Oh, you won't?” Now he was definitely teasing. “A guy has a couple million dollars and everyone thinks he'll pay for everything.”
“Well.” I frowned at some leftover Chinese food and tossed it into the trash. “I could ask my boss for a raise, but he might want something in exchange.”
“Oh, really?” His voice dropped. “What do you think he might want?”
My stomach tightened. I knew where this was going and, for once, this was something I hadn't done before. Some of the men I'd been with had wanted me to talk dirty to them, but I'd never actually had phone sex before.
“Well, he might want me to get down on my knees,” I began. I leaned back against the counter, dinner forgotten for the moment. “Unzip his pants nice and slow.”
I heard a muffled groan and the sound of a zipper.
Fuck.
I unbuttoned my own pants and slid my hand inside.
“What would you do then?” he asked.
“Wrap my hand around his cock. It's nice and thick. Feels so good in my hand.”
“Are you touching yourself?” he asked. “Feeling that hot, slick cunt around your fingers?”
I shivered as I slid my finger into my pussy. It was still sensitive from last night. The heel of my hand pressed against my clit and I moaned.
“Are you wet?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I wish it was my fingers sliding in and out of you, getting you ready to take me.” His voice was rough with desire. “I'm so hard. I want to be inside you so badly.”
“I want to taste you.” I closed my eyes, imagining it was his fingers pumping in to me. “Feel you come in my mouth as you finger me to climax.”
“Yes, love.” he groaned. “And then I'd take my turn. Make love to you with my mouth until I have you writhing, screaming my name. Lick up every last drop of your pleasure.”
How the hell was he managing to talk like that? I could barely string together a coherent sentence.
“Yes,” I moaned.
“Are you close?”
I heard the hitch in his voice. I could picture him, hand wrapped around that thick shaft, working over it. The pleasure on his face, his eyes dark with desire.
“Yes. I'm close.”
“Come with me, love. Come with me.”
I heard him groan my name and knew he was coming. The picture of it in my head, the thought of how his cock would pulse, cum spilling down over his fist...
“Rylan!” I called out his name as I came, a wave of pleasure washing over me.
A few minutes passed where we only heard the other's breathing as we came down.
“You know,” he said, breaking the silence. “I definitely prefer the real thing, but I think this can get me through a bit longer.”
I smiled. “How long are we talking?”
“We never did get to that part of the conversation.” He chuckled.
“You distracted me,” I said.
“You did a fair bit of distracting yourself,” he countered.
“True,” I admitted. I had to admit, I was pleased that I'd been able to distract him so well.
“What do you think about next weekend?” he asked. “Will a week be enough time to pack your things and make arrangements with your landlord?”
A week. Seven days and then I'd be with him. For however long it lasted.
I wouldn't dare to let myself think forever. I was too hopeful as it was.
“You're sure about this?” I made myself ask the question. “I won't be upset if you changed your mind.”
“Jenna, love.” His voice was gentle. “If you hadn't said you needed time, I'd be over there right now with a van, ready to pack everything up and let you sort things out here.”
I was silent for a moment, absorbing his words. “This weekend.”
“Saturday,” he said. “We'll start moving your things on Saturday.”
“You know anyone who needs second-hand furniture?” I quipped, or at least I tried to. Something had just occurred to me.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
It frightened me sometimes how well he could read me, even over the phone.
“I...it's silly. Nothing.”
“Jenna. Tell me.”
My stomach tightened. It was that voice.
“The bedroom suite,” I admitted. “It's the first thing I bought. The rest of the furniture, it's all a mismatched junk...”
“But the bedroom suite means something to you.” His voice was soft as he finished my sentence.
“It's okay,” I said. “It doesn't matter.”
“Bullshit.”
I blinked. That wasn’t what I'd expected him to say.
“If it means something to you, it means something to me,” he said firmly. “We'll use it in our room.”
“What about your things?”
“My interior decorator picked them out,” he said. “She knows what I like, but she's not who I love.”
Tears burned in my eyes and I wiped at them, thankful that he couldn't see me getting emotional over a bed and dresser.
“You bring whatever you want to bring,” he said. “We'll find a place for everything.”
Now the tears were running down my face. He had no idea what this meant to me. It was beyond just taking the bedroom suite because it was the first thing I'd bought. It was about having a home, a place that was mine. Things that were mine. Kids in the foster system never had things of their own. A few, if they were lucky, had things from their childhood, things they associated with pleasant memories.
I'd taken nothing with me beyond what I'd been wearing when I'd been rescued, which meant nothing. I'd had hand-me-downs and charity clothes. Nothing personal. I'd been moved around so much that there had never really been time for anyone to get to know me, to buy me a Christmas gift or something for my birthday. What I had here was everything that made me a home.
“Love, you okay?”
“I'm great,” I said, forcing cheerfulness. “Just looking for something to eat.”
“I won't keep you any longer,” he said. “Wouldn't want you to starve.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “One thing though.”
“Yeah?” I opened a cabinet and stared at the contents without really seeing them.
“Friday evening, there's something we need to do. Before you move in.”
“Oh really?” I turned back towards my phone. “And what would that be?”
“I want you to meet my family.”
Chapter 29
A part of dating that I'd never regretted missing was the whole “meet the parents” thing. When you're only in it for a single physical encounter, you never have to worry about whether or not the family will like you. I was self-aware enough to know that this was one of the reasons why I'd never wanted a relationship. One of many, but still on the list.
As I stood in front of my mirror, I wondered, not for the first time, what I'd gotten myself into. I loved Rylan, I knew that much, but I really didn't want to do this. I wanted to be a part of his life and I didn't want us to hide that we were together, but the idea of meeting his parents terrified me. To make matters worse, I knew that Suzette would be there and she already didn't like me. Rylan kept telling me that his little sister was just protective of him and didn't want to see him hurt. He was certain that she'd come around. I wasn't.
And speaking of pressure...
I frowned at my reflection. I'd gotten a new dress just for the occasion. Simple, sleek and black. Modestly cut but still stylish, with the kind of material that clung to my curves and flattered my figure. The heels I'd picked were three inches, allowing the dress to fall to the floor without dragging. Both sides had slits that went to a couple inches above my knee, showing off my legs. I knew Rylan would like that.
This would be the last time I'd be dressing here, I realized. After tomorrow, he and I would share a room. He would be there when I decided what to wear to birthday parties, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Maybe by then it would be routine. I'd know what was expected of me, wouldn't feel the need to impress anyone.
I looked down at the box on my dresser. The only thing Rylan had asked of me was to wear his Christmas present. I wasn't sure if it was only because he wanted to see me wearing them again, or if it was to show his family that this wasn't some sort of fling, that he cared about me enough to spend this much money on me. I didn't doubt what he'd told me before, that the gift hadn't been about the money but rather about him knowing what I would like, but if his parents were even a fraction like the people I thought they were, they'd equate how much he spent with how much he cared. Or they'd be like Zeke and Suzette and think I only wanted Rylan for his money.
That wasn't my problem, I reminded myself firmly. I wanted Rylan's family to like me, but for him, not for me. He asked me to wear the necklace and earrings, so I'd do it. If it made his family think less of me, that was their problem, not mine.
I opened the box, still amazed at how beautiful the jewelry was. I'd worn them only once since Christmas and that memory fueled heat low in my belly. I smiled as I put on the earrings. Maybe that was why Rylan wanted me to wear them, I thought. A reminder of how we'd spent our New Year's. I fastened the necklace on and took another look in the mirror. I'd left my hair down and it fell in a straight sheet almost to my shoulders. I hadn't had it trimmed since I'd met Rylan. I hadn't decided yet if I wanted to grow it out or not.
I glanced at my phone. Now wasn't the time to be figuring any of that out. Rylan was coming to pick me up in just a couple minutes. I looked around my bedroom. Everything was packed, ready for tomorrow. I had a bag with clothes in it that I'd take with me tonight so I'd have stuff to wear over the weekend while we unpacked, but everything else was in boxes. Nothing was on the walls. The cabinets in the kitchen emptied. I hadn't found anyone to take the furniture I wasn't taking with me, but my landlord had agreed that it could stay in the apartment through the end of the month since I'd already paid. Other than that, everything was ready to go. Including me.
As nervous as the idea of living with someone made me, I was more excited that I'd get to be with Rylan all the time and not feel like I was pressuring him into something. And with him would come safety. While Rylan wasn't crazy about security stuff, I knew that the security system in his house was top-of-the-line.
There was a knock at the door and I pushed my thoughts of tomorrow aside. One nerve-wracking thing at a time. First it was dinner with Rylan's family. Then I could start processing the move itself and the ramifications that had been buzzing around in my head.
“Gorgeous,” Rylan said as soon as I opened the door. He reached out and brushed his finger over the necklace. “These look just as beautiful on you now as they did a couple weeks ago.” He smiled. “Though I do know which look I prefer.”
I blushed and rolled my eyes. He was the only one whose compliments meant anything to me because I knew they were sincere. He never said ones he didn't mean.
“Before I get too distracted by good memories, shall we?” He held out his arm. “Being late because I wanted to ravish you probably isn't the best idea.”
I laughed and some of the tension eased out of my body, which I was sure had been his intent all along. “True,” I agreed. “I wouldn't want your family getting such a negative impression of me.”
It was his turn to laugh. “I was thinking more along the lines of it not being a good idea to leave my mother and father in the same room for a long period of time without me as a buffer.”
My eyebrows went up. “Are things that bad between the two of them?”
He shrugged. “They don't get along, and with my step-mother and Suzette there, my mom will feel like they're ganging up on her, even if they don't say a word.”
“You know,” I said as we walked towards Rylan's car. “Spending time in the system tends to make people romanticize having a family, but that's at least one good thing about having a past like mine.”
“What's that?” he asked as he opened the passenger's side door for me.
“Even families that are a million times better than mine still have issues.”
He chuckled as he went around the car to get into the driver's seat. “Yes, they do.”
Since we were meeting with both parents, Rylan had thought it wouldn't be a good idea to pick one home over the other and Rylan definitely didn't want them at his place – our place, I corrected myself. When I'd asked why, he'd told me that his house was refuge to get away from his parents. If we were somewhere else, we could leave whenever we wanted. If everyone was here, short of being rude, we'd have to wait for them to go on their own. That and the fact that he'd already started moving things around in anticipation of the move meant having his family to the house would be awkward. He planned to tell them that I was moving in with him, but he wanted to give us at least until the appetizers to ease into it.
It had taken a lot of persuading to get his parents to agree to a dinner at a Fort Collins restaurant rather than something in Denver, but in the end, they'd agreed, as long as the family had a private back room. I would've laughed at the request, but Rylan seemed to think it was a good idea, so I let it go. I felt conspicuously overdressed as Rylan and I followed the hostess through the restaurant towards the back, but as soon as we went into the room, I was glad I'd followed Rylan's advice.
Suzette was wearing an elegant dark green dress, looking more like she belonged at some sort of gallery opening or charity event. Next to her was a woman who could only be her mother. I'd seen a picture of Lindsay Golden-Archer before, and even though that had been from years ago, the woman at Suzette's side didn't look much different. Chestnut brown hair and the same hazel eyes as her daughter, Lindsay could've passed for her mid-thirties instead of the early forties I knew her to be.
On Suzette's other side was Rylan's father. Both kids had inherited Adam Archer's dark hair, though his was mostly gray now. Still, for a man in his mid-sixties, he'd aged well. His eyes were blue, though not the same shade as Rylan's. He, too, didn't look much different from the pictures I'd seen.
The other woman in the room I wouldn't have been able to place if I hadn't known Rylan's mother was coming. In her early thirties, Theresa Ricin-Archer had obviously had a lot of work done, and not all of it had been good. Her hair was golden blond now – an obvious dye job – but her eyes had stayed the same. Rylan had inherited those from her, that unique blue-violet color that had probably gone a long way to helping her modeling career.
“Mom, Dad, Lindsay,” Rylan looked at each one in turn. “I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jenna Lang.”
I went to them in the order he'd said their names, remembering what Suzette and Zeke had both said about Rylan's parents taking little things personally. I kept my smile the same for all three and shook their hands the exact same way.
“It's nice to meet all of you,” I said as I stepped back to Rylan's side. He put his hand on the small of my back and I resisted
the urge to lean into him.
“We've heard a lot about you,” Lindsay said with a stiff smile.
I didn't doubt that.
We moved to sit at the table, Rylan quickly positioning himself between his mother and me. Suzette ended up across from me which I didn't particularly like, but there wasn't really a better choice.
“Your appearance is a bit of a surprise,” Adam said.
“Dad,” Rylan snapped.
“It's okay,” I said softly, putting my hand on his arm. I turned to Adam. “I'm assuming it's the hair.” I gave him my most charming fake smile. “I've always gotten bored of my hair color easily and I don't always choose the most normal colors.” I let my eyes flick over to Lindsay and then to Theresa. “But I decided that I wanted to go into the New Year with my natural hair color, so I dyed it until it can grow out.”
“You lost the eyebrow ring too,” Suzette said. She looked down at my wrist. “Are you going to get the tattoos removed too so you can try to look like you belong with my brother?”
“Suzette!” Rylan glared at his sister.
“Actually, I don't really care what anyone else thinks.” I kept my voice even and polite, albeit a little on the cool side. “If someone doesn't accept me for who I am, then they're not someone with whom I'd want to be acquainted anyway.”
“Well,” Lindsay broke in to the conversation. “If you ever decide you want to see a plastic surgeon about those scars.” She looked at my cheek and my arm. “Just ask Theresa. She has every plastic surgeon in a hundred mile radius on speed dial.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rylan scowl. I was starting to understand why he'd waited to introduce me to his family.
“Unless you want a boob job,” Theresa spoke up. “That's a number you'd have to get from Lindsay.”
Just when I thought there would be some sort of middle-aged women cat fight, the waiter appeared to ask for drink and appetizer orders. Everyone ordered alcohol, which I didn't think was a very good idea, but I did too, so I didn't feel right saying something.
“Nice necklace,” Suzette said as the waiter walked away. “How much did it cost?”
