Absolutely Not

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

  Keller got back in position fast, anticipating the satisfying flush of wet heat gloving him as he sank into her silky depths, experiencing nirvana as his cock grazed her womb. His erection nudged her pussy and she spread her legs wide.

  “Oh Maisy…”

  She locked her ankles behind his ass, the silky softness of her thighs clasping his hips.

  And then she gushed a boozy little hiccup.

  Shit.

  And then she giggled.

  Double shit.

  He waited a moment, hoping he hadn’t heard right.

  Giggle, hiccup, giggle.

  Sonuvabitch. The next thing he knew she’d be belting out polka songs in time with his thrusts.

  Keller filled his lungs with air, closed his eyes and released the breath with an extended whoosh. The groan that followed was so pained, tortured and bloodcurdling it sounded like something out of an anime cartoon.

  Employing every last ounce of his tapering control, Keller tore himself from Maisy’s impassioned clutches and sat back on his heels. Blood screamed in his veins, through his cock. He felt about to expire from a severe case of unrequited lust.

  “Keller…? Keller, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to make love to me anymore?” Hiccup.

  He looked down at her sweet, waiting pussy again, wanting nothing more than to thrust into it, high, hard and deep, over and over until his cum burst white hot and he roared out his satisfaction. Closing his eyes for a moment to muster additional strength, he took another deep breath and pulled Maisy’s panties back up over the too-inviting, juicy little sanctuary he longed to plunder.

  “Seems like we’ve been through this scenario before,” Keller told her, dragging her skirt back in place.

  “Huh?” Maisy gazed up at him with a bewildered expression. She gave a bright smile, puckered her lips, made a series of air smooches at him and then giggled again. “Kiss me, Keller. Kiss me. Eat me. Fuck me.” Hiccup.

  “Believe me.” Keller laughed softly. “I’d like nothing better than to make love to you right now, Maisy. I want to shove up inside you and make us both to go up in flames. You have no idea how much I want that. But not when you’re tipsy. If you still feel the same way when you’re sober I promise I’ll ravage you in a flash.”

  He planted a soft kiss on Maisy’s forehead and another on her lips. “I don’t want to be accused of taking advantage of your condition again.” He dotted the tip of her nose with his finger.

  “Oh I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Yeah, famous last words.” Keller stripped the sadly unused condom from his cock, depositing it in the trash with a regretful sigh.

  “But Keller…” Maisy luxuriated in a languorous groan as she stretched against the bedding. “This is soooo romantic. So perfect. Just you and me and this nice big, comfy bed.” She crooked her finger in invitation and he clamped it in his hand.

  “Eh…not exactly. I can think of more conducive romantic settings than here with my mother and Norman in one room and my sister—your arch enemy—in another.” Keller laughed at the irony of it all. “On top of all that, I know damn well from past experience that you’re going to hate yourself, and me too, probably, once you come out of this warm, fuzzy alcohol haze and realize what you said.”

  “Oh no, I could never hate you, Keller. I love you.”

  Keller drew in a sharp breath. “Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re saying. That’s just the wine talking.”

  “I like wine talk.” Maisy gazed longingly into his eyes and gave a wicked smile. “Like twin glistening, passion-filled, chocolate drops…”

  Keller skewed his features. “Maisy, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Your eyes,” she explained. “They’re like shimmering chocolate chips.” Bolting up, she plastered herself against Keller, locking her lips with his.

  It wasn’t long before he found himself lost in desire again. Putting up a not-too-valiant struggle, he finally allowed himself to be tugged on top of Maisy as she rested against the pillows.

  She paused in her kiss long enough to moan as she licked his jaw, his neck, under his chin. Keller fastened his mouth on hers, mesmerized by the liquid stroke of her tongue as they engaged in a languid, oral dance.

  A chorus of throat clearing interrupted the kiss as Agatha and Norman entered the room. Displaying embarrassed smiles, they bore trays with coffee, cheese, crackers and fresh fruit.

  “Mom,” Keller squawked as he pried himself away from Maisy’s arms and shot to his feet.

  “Mom?” Maisy echoed quizzically.

  Keller cleared his throat. “I was just—” He stopped short, following his mother’s and Norman’s gaze to his unzipped trousers, which had fallen to his knees. “Oh shit.” He yanked up his pants, thankful as hell he still had his shorts on. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he claimed, turning his back to them while he zipped, buckled and tucked. “Really, I can explain.”

  “Oh boy,” Norman muttered.

  “There’s no need to explain.” Agatha held up her hand to signal a stop to her son’s sputtering account. “I’m not blind, Keller. I see exactly what’s happening here. You were clearly taking advantage of this poor young lady’s intoxicated condition. Keller Fitch, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Wait. No.” Keller shook his head fervently. “It wasn’t like that.” He looked back at Maisy who looked all sweet and innocent and wide-eyed, blinking up at him as if she hadn’t a clue in the world why his pants had just been around his knees. “You know, this is the second time in just over a month that I’ve been wrongfully accused of taking advantage of—”

  “Mom!?” Maisy blurted again, shaking her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. She propped herself up on her elbows as the full realization of the events seemed to come into clarity. “Oh my God.” She looked straight at Agatha. “You’re…you’re…”

  “Yes, dear, I’m Agatha Fitch. Keller’s mother. Um…apparently you and my son already know each other. Quite well, it seems.” She offered a polite smile as she deposited the tray she carried on Keller’s nightstand.

  Maisy slowly rose to a full sitting position, scooting to the edge of the bed, one hand on her head and the other on her stomach. She looked pretty dazed and wobbly so Keller did the gentlemanly thing. He sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her to steady her. She eased into him, resting her head against his chest. He put his other arm around her, patting her back in a chaste, soothing fashion.

  “Come on, Mom,” he said, “it’s not what you think. Maisy just thought I was a dream, that’s all.”

  “Oh I could die…I could just die,” Maisy lamented. Focusing her attention back to Keller, whose arms were still around her, she glared up at him with an outraged expression. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop manhandling me.”

  “Manhandling?” Keller squawked, refusing to release his grip.

  “That’s what it looks like to me,” Agatha noted.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Fitch.” Maisy tried to shrug Keller off.

  “You’re welcome. Call me Agatha, dear.”

  “I may as well give up.” Keller laughed. “The man’s always the guilty one.”

  “You got that right,” Norman said.

  “You!” Maisy shot an accusatory glare at Norman. Finger outstretched, she charged, “This is all your fault, Norman.”

  “Maisy, I swear…I had no idea.” Norman crossed his heart then pressed his steepled fingers to his lips.

  “If there was any manhandling going on here, Mom,” Keller said, “it was on Ms. Morganfield’s part, not mine. I was only doing my best to oblige her drunken desires.”

  “What!” Maisy sucked in a breath of indignation. “Oh! Get off me, right now, you…you…”

  “Dreamboat?” Keller teased. “Fantasy man? Alien lover?”

  “You egotistical, grape-stomping baboon!” Shoving Keller away with a mighty thrust, Maisy bolted to her feet. “Just what exactly is it with you, anyway, Keller? Aren’t you
capable of making time with a girl without getting her drunk first?”

  Slapping his hand to his chest, Keller’s neck and chin jutted out in astonishment. “Excuse me? You were well on your way to a state of intoxicated delirium long before I got here from the airport. It’s not my fault if you’re a lush.”

  Maisy breathed in an audible exclamation. “Keller Fitch, how can you say such a thing? I don’t even drink.”

  Norman winced. “I’m afraid that one’s not going to hold water, Maisy.”

  Maisy blinked. Apparently recalling the beer and wine she’d imbibed earlier, she rolled her eyes and corrected herself. “What I mean is…I very rarely drink.”

  Keller smirked. “Hmmm, let’s see… At Chowder Bay, you were sucking down a glass of Riesling. At our picnic lunch you knocked back a bottle of cabernet. God only knows what you guzzled this afternoon to get you this loaded. In fact, the only place I didn’t see you with a drink in your hand or intoxicated was at the funeral home. That’s three out of four, Maisy. For someone who’s trying so hard to paint herself as a near teetotaler, the odds are against you.”

  “Keller Aloysius Fitch!” Agatha admonished her son. “What is the matter with you?”

  “Aloysius?” Maisy said incredulously.

  Keller groaned as Maisy clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Gee, thanks a lot, Mom,” he said sarcastically.

  “I thought I raised my son to be a gentleman,” Agatha went on. “Apologize to the young lady at once.”

  “Mom, you don’t understand.” Keller hit the wall with his fist and growled. “It’s not my fault. There’s just something about Maisy that brings out the worst in me.” He glanced at Maisy who stood there with her chin elevated in defiance, looking for all the world like a deliciously wicked little temptress. “Dammit, she drives me crazy, for chrissakes. I mean look at her.” He gestured toward Maisy who glared at him in return.

  Fists firmly planted on her hips, Agatha slanted her son a warning look. “Keller…”

  “Okay!” Keller plowed his fingers through his hair, growling a sigh. “I apologize for implying that you’re a wino, Maisy.” He looked back at his mother. “Satisfied?”

  “The only reason you’re apologizing is because your mother made you,” Maisy accused.

  Letting out a cry of vexation, Keller paced back and forth. “There, you see?” he said to Agatha, as he held his outstretched fingers toward Maisy. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. She’s impossible. Exasperating! She comes here uninvited, gets plotched on wine, which was by no means force fed—unless, of course, you’re using a new technique on the customers, Mother…”

  Agatha’s hand flew to her chest as she gasped. “Of course not.”

  “And yet somehow,” Keller continued, “I’m the one to blame. And, dammit, I wasn’t even here until just a short time ago! Does that make any sense? Huh? Tell me, does it?”

  “I can vouch for Maisy,” Norman said, before Maisy or Agatha had a chance to retort. “She’s not an experienced drinker, Keller. It was my bright idea to come here to your winery and sample those wines, not Maisy’s. I had to practically drag the woman in here kicking and screaming for God’s sake.” He laughed.

  “We’d already had a few mugs of beer over at Bavaria Haus…” Norman held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Again, at my suggestion. I should have had more sense than to insist that Maisy drink wine on top of that.”

  “Norman Stanley, I most certainly do not need you, of all people, defending me,” Maisy snapped. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be in this mess, would I?”

  “If you’d been paying attention, you’d realize that’s exactly the point I was trying to make, Maisy,” Norman said.

  Maisy fidgeted with her hair, smoothing it in place. “Oh, let’s have a little lunch out in Naperville, Maisy. Oh gee, Maisy, look, here’s Keller’s Cellars, what a surprise. Keller won’t be here—I promise. Trust me, you said. Hah!”

  She dropped her head into her hands and talked through spread fingers. “I swear, Norman, sometimes I could just strangle you. In fact, after this fiasco, I just might.”

  The sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs was followed by Sharon’s pinched face, peeking through the doorway.

  “What in the hell is going on up here? Control yourself and stop screaming like a drunken banshee, Maisy. This is a place of business. There are customers downstairs.”

  Clearly horrified, Maisy looked from Sharon to Norman to Agatha and finally to Keller. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m…I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive me.” She cradled stomach. “Please, can someone show me to the bathroom? I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Brushing Keller’s helping hand from Maisy’s arm, Agatha stepped between them. “I think you’ve helped the young lady quite enough for now, Keller. Come along, dear,” she said to Maisy, leading her from the room.

  As soon as Agatha was out of sight, Sharon pinned Keller with a caustic gaze. “Okay, big brother, Mama’s not here to protect you now. I want an explanation.” Indignant, she flipped her long red locks from her shoulder and folded her spindly arms across her chest. “What’s going on between you and that fat pig?”

  It was a damn good thing he wasn’t a violent man, because Keller would have enjoyed nothing more at the moment than to haul off and give his acerbic sister a solid punch in the nose.

  Through clenched teeth, he said, “Don’t you ever call Maisy a fat pig again, do you hear me, Sharon? Ever! Or you’ll have me to answer to. Is that clear?”

  Mocking her brother, Sharon dangled her hands in a jittery fashion. “Oooh, look at me, I’m shaking. I’m so scared.” She rolled her eyes and barked a laugh. “Good Lord, Keller, don’t tell me you’re fucking that bitch.”

  Seething, Keller moved toward his sister. Norman quickly stepped between them. Addressing Sharon, he grinned and said, “Excuse me, but didn’t I hear you say you had some customers downstairs? Maybe it would be a good idea for you to see how they’re doing.”

  “I couldn’t care less. After all, this isn’t my winery, it’s his.” Sharon said the word as if Keller were nothing more than a bug underfoot as she pointed a bony finger at her brother. “I am not moving from this spot until I get some answers.” Sharon gave Norman a loathsome once-over. “You’re the bitch’s faggot boss, aren’t you?”

  “Sharon!” Keller belted out.

  Shoulders back and head held high, Norman took in a slow breath, undoubtedly struggling to maintain his composure and keep his temper in check. “Now I understand why Maisy got sick right after you came into the room.” Curling his lip, he returned Sharon’s distasteful once-over. “She wasn’t exaggerating a bit when she described what you were like.”

  “Oh yeah?” Sharon advanced toward Norman with a menacing look. “Well, let me show you exactly what I’m made of, you fuckin’ queer.”

  “Oh no you don’t.” Keller grasped his sister’s arm, holding firm as she tried in vain to tug free. “Goddammit, Sharon, get a grip, will you?”

  He shifted his gaze to Norman. “I’m sorry you had to get in the middle of this. I’m going to take big mouth here,” he shot Sharon a lethal look, “downstairs so we can talk. Do me a favor and take care of Maisy for me, okay?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Will you fuckin’ let go of my arm,” Sharon insisted as Keller all but dragged her down the stairs.

  “Keep quiet, you foul-mouthed little troublemaker,” Keller warned. “I don’t want the customers to hear you.” It was increasingly difficult for him to remain calm and level-headed with all the raw emotion simmering inside his brain. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he loosened his grip and Sharon yanked her arm away.

  “Ow, you big ox…” She rubbed her arm. “I’m going to be black and blue… You know how easily I bruise.” Keller aimed a narrow-eyed glare her way. “Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. There aren’t any customers here. I just said that for Maisy’s ben
efit.”

  “What?” Throwing his hands into the air, Keller mumbled a string of curses beneath his breath. “You know, Sharon, you are really one fine piece of work.”

  “Thank you.” She fluffed her hair.

  He shot his sister a noxious look. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  Arching one penciled eyebrow and offering a calculated sneer, Sharon slid past Keller to retrieve her coat and purse from the back room. When she returned, she draped her things over the banister and faced Keller, arms crossed over her chest. “So, are you going to tell me about you and whatzerface or not?”

  “Not if I can help it.” He’d had thousands of run-ins with his mouthy sister over the years but this one…this one was different. “Actually, Sharon, it’s really none of your business.”

  “It most certainly is.” Sharon stamped her high-heeled foot against the floor. “How can you say that? She’s the bitch who made John’s life a living hell for ten years. She’s the last person on earth I want to see you tied up with.” She stamped her foot again. “I swear, Keller, sometimes you are such an idiot.”

  Keller cringed as he studied the spot on the floor where Sharon had twice punctuated her point with the metal-tipped heel of her shoe. “God damn, Sharon, do you have any idea how many back-breaking hours I put into finishing this hardwood floor?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject, creep.”

  “I really don’t want to get into this with you, Sharon. But,” Keller pointed an implicating finger, “since you’re being so damned obstinate about it, are you forgetting that I knew that rotten sonuvabitch you were married to?”

  His hand shot up to silence his sister’s impending protest. “Before you say another word, remember that I’m the one you called, bawling your eyes out, when you first discovered that John Morganfield, your wonderful, perfect new husband, was sleeping through the entire roster of female real estate agents in the Chicago area. You were nearly hysterical, remember?”

  “Yes but—”

  “I remember,” Keller continued, “when that bastard pummeled you so badly that you were covered with black and blue marks, had a fat lip and your eye swollen shut. You had to practically tie me down to prevent me from killing that scumbag myself.” The recollection of seeing his sister in that condition and realizing her husband was responsible was still an all too lucid memory.