by Cat Mason
“Tanner and Greer are cleaning up the kitchen,” Evan says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Police are gone, but it looks like it’s fired up the shutterbugs again. Got a few hangin’ parked out front again. You good?”
Giving him a reassuring smile, I nod. “I’m fine, E. Just shook me up for a minute.”
“Okay.” He nods, giving my shoulder one more squeeze before releasing his hold. “I’m going to do another check of the fence and gates. You know, just in case any of those cockheads get any ideas.” His smile changes, his mouth pressing into a hard line. I had expected him to be worried, frustrated even, but the one thing that I didn’t expect was to see fear in his eyes.
This has gotten to him too.
Until now, I don’t think that I have truly realized the toll this last few weeks has been taking on Evan. I have been too wrapped up in me and my own shit, I guess. It is his job to protect me. A job that is more about the paycheck and always has been. There has never been a time when I have been in Evan’s care that I haven’t felt he would keep me safe. I trust the guy with my life, and do time and time again without question. However, I can see the self-doubt in his eyes, the what ifs piling up in his head as he runs possible scenarios.
Slipping from Tage’s embrace, I turn and wrap my arms around Evan. He stiffens initially, probably out of shock, but hugs me back just the same. “Thank you,” I say, knowing that he really needs to hear this from me. “I don’t say that to you a lot, and I really should tell you more how grateful I am for everything you do for me. Just because I fire you daily and spend a lot of my time not liking you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t one of my favorite people in the world.”
“B,” he says, pushing back and gripping my forearms. “I love you, you know that I do, but I can’t handle that emotional shit you just threw at me. What we have works so well because you’re just as much of an asshole as I am. Let’s not ruin that with appreciation, okay? If you feel the need to appreciate me ever again, give me a bonus or buy me a hooker. You’ve got the feels crawlin’ all over me like the goddamn hives now.”
“Right,” I say nodding. “Bonus it is then.” Slipping my hand into Tage’s I head for the stairs, tugging him along with me. “Come on, Beach Cow. Those cookies aren’t going to eat themselves.”
Wagging his tail, Moo clomps up the stairs loudly, sounding more like a trotting horse, than a dog. Leaping up into my bed, he paws at the blankets before shuffling beneath them. After shifting around a few moments, he finally flops down, only his snout sticking out from the edge of the blanket.
“That’s a boy,” Tage says, sarcastically. “Make yourself right at home. Jackass.”
“Leave him alone. I think he feels neglected,” I say, walking around to my bedside table. Opening the drawer, I remove the package of cookies that I have been hiding from Evan. Moo’s head shoots straight out from under the blanket the moment he hears the sound of the plastic wrapper. “He probably doesn’t think you love him anymore.”
Tage laughs. Rounding the bed, his arm circles my middle, pulling me flush against him. “Poor dog. The hardest parts of his day are breaking into houses for snack food and licking his own nuts. He knows what’s up. I’m sure he’s just as happy that I’ve ended my monogamous relationship with Felicia the Fist as I am. That whole dudes before boobs thing is arguable at this stage of the game, baby.”
“Dudes before boobs, huh?” I ask, removing a cookie from the package and holding it out for Moo. Not missing a beat, he snaps it up happily, only to scoot closer to the edge of the bed in anticipation of another. “I feel that is rather discriminatory to my other, just as great, parts.” Shrugging, I toss Moo another cookie, that he snatches in mid-air. “I want to hear more about Felicia,” I say, arching a brow. “Is she righty? Or lefty?”
“How about booty before dog duty?” he teases, sliding his hands down to palm my ass through my dress.
“Don’t change the subject,” I scold, taking a cookie for myself. Taking a bite, I chew thoughtfully, a smile spreading across my face. Tossing the package to the bed, I slide my fingers along the waistband of his jeans, stopping on the button. Holding the remaining half of the cookie to his lips, I offer it to him. “How long has it been only you and FTF?” I ask, patting myself on the back for the totally appropriate acronym for his five finger fuckbuddy.
Felicia the Fist could be one badass band name. Or a hashtag. Those guys snapchatting their morning wood yank sessions to thousands of horny women followers would get that shit trending faster than you can say five knuckle shuffle.
“A very long time,” he replies, opening his mouth enough for me to slip the cookie inside.
Popping the button on his pants, I slip my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around his already hardening length. Tage hisses out a breath, his hips jolting as I run my thumb over the tip of his cock. “I bet Felicia can’t do this.” Dropping to my knees, I lower his zipper, tugging his pants down his thighs. His cock springs free, sticking straight out at me like a loaded, deadly weapon. Tage gives a whole new meaning to the term cocked and loaded. I laugh silently to myself at my punny choice of words as I lick my lips.
“This escalated quickly,” he says, his voice low.
Leaning forward, I slowly drag my tongue from base to tip. Cupping his balls with one hand, I take him deep into my mouth while my fingers fondle him gently. “Mmm,” I moan, swirling my tongue around his length. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his breath coming out in sexy little grunts and groans, that has me aching with need. I rub my thighs together, desperate for some friction. Wanting nothing more than to ride my own fingers while I suck him off.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, his hands fisting in my hair. “Take me deep, baby. Fuck, that’s so good.”
Looking up at him through my lashes, I watch him as he begins to come undone. His muscles flex beneath the fabric of his t-shirt with each stroke of my lips. Something moves out of the corner of my eye, making me jump. Focusing my eyes, I see the two brown eyes staring at me from beneath the edge of the blanket. Moo raises, tilting his head to the side, studying me like some hooded creeper. Oh my God! He is fucking watching. I gasp, nearly choking on Tage’s dick as he thrusts his hips. “Bristol, I’m gonna—”
Yanking back, I lose his cock and fall backwards, landing flat on my ass. “The dog is watching us,” I blurt, gasping for breath just as Tage’s hips jolt forward and his loaded gun shoots off a round of jizz, nailing me right in the face.
“Oh my God!” Tage shouts, his eyes flying open wide. Looking at my face, then his dick, and my face again, his mouth drops open in shock. “That did not just happen.”
“It did,” I giggle, swiping at my face. “Congratulations, sweet cheeks, you’ve officially blasted me with my very first non-consensual protein facial.”
Tage blushes blood red. Shucking his shoes and jeans, he tucks himself back inside his boxers, and helps me up off the floor. “I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely. Yanking his shirt over his head, he starts wiping at my face.
“Tage, it’s not a big deal,” I reply, swatting his hands away. “It’s splooge, not toxic waste. I’ll live. Promise.”
“I can’t believe the shit that happens to me,” he continues, yanking a hand through his hair. “What do I do during the best blow job I’ve ever fucking had, by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on? I choke her with my cock then hose down her face like she’s just caught fire.” Shaking his head, he groans. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Oh my God.” Clutching my stomach, I bend at the waist, laughing so hard that I can barely breathe. “Stop,” I heave, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
“I’m glad you find this so funny,” he deadpans. “I almost took out your eye.”
Falling onto the bed, I laugh hysterically, both Moo and Tage looking at me like I have lost my damn mind. I probably have. Maybe it is the adrenaline and emotions from the night leaving my body, or maybe it is ju
st because Tage looks so offended by what he has just done, and I am the one wearing the spunk splatter.
“That’s why I love you,” I breathe, wiping the tears from my eyes. “You’re always able to make me laugh right when I need it the most.”
I freeze, realizing the words that just tumbled out of my mouth. Holy shit. Way to jump into the deep end without a life vest, Bristol. Instead of working up the courage to talk to Tage about the shit swirling around in my head; the first chance I get, it all spews out without any warning during a goddamn giggle fit!
Tage stands there, staring at me, completely frozen. Sitting up, I bury my face in my hands, exhaling harshly. “Would you say something? Please?” I mutter into my hands. “That rushed out of my mouth without any warning. I didn’t plan to say that, didn’t expect to drop that like a bowling ball on your foot, but there it is,” I say, continuing to ramble. “It may have sounded easy, but it wasn’t. I still can’t believe I said it. The only person I can remember having ever said those three words to was my Nana Jo. I didn’t say that to some boyfriend growing up during a make out session under the bleachers, or to my parents before bed at night. Not even Quinn and the guys have heard it from me like that. I care about them, but those three words carry weight, permanence. Love means roots and a foundation. You are pretty much giving out keys to your heart, inviting them in to live there and become a part of everything that makes you who you are. Once you do that, they are free to make themselves at home, and fuck shit all up if they choose to. Oh! And there’s always that possibility, of right when you need them the most, they can bolt whenever the fuck they feel like taking the next exit. Then where does that leave you? Broken. That’s where. Broken and fragile, and fucked the fuck right up all because you can’t change the locks and they can use that key to come right back in when you least expect it and fuck shit up again simply by showing up in your memory. Life is a bitch and I am rambling because you’re not talking and it’s making me very fucking nervous right now. When I get nervous, I ramble on and on, until someone shuts me the fuck up.” Looking up at him, I take another breath. “Would you please shut me the fuck up before I puke or faint, or both. This is worse than needles and blood and bugs and...” Flopping back onto the mattress, I cover my eyes with my forearm.
“I love you too.”
“What?” I ask, not moving.
The mattress shifts with Tage’s weight as he lies beside me. Tugging my hand, he presses a kiss to the inside of my palm before leaning in to kiss my lips. “I love you too,” he whispers against my mouth.
“You love me too?” I ask, opening my eyes. Sitting up, I shake my head in disbelief. “You love me too? Come on, one of us has to be realistic here. This,” I say, gesturing between the two of us. “How does that even work? I mean how much time would we be able to actually be together? What kind of shot could we possibly even have?”
“Yes. I love you too.” Taking my hand, he places my palm on his chest, right over his heart. “It doesn’t matter how we make it work. It only matters that we want it to,” he says, his eyes softening, the green pools fucking with my determination to make him see how crazy he is for buying into this whole ‘L’ word shit with me. He should be yanking on his clothes and running for the goddamn hills. “I’m going to prove it to you,” he says, leaning in to brush his nose against mine. “Again and again, until you have no doubt left in your mind.”
My stomach flutters. Fuck, I love when he does that. Rolling me to my back, Tage settles between my legs. His lips make a steady trail down my collarbone. Unbuttoning the front of my dress, he continues his line of soft kisses downward with every inch of skin he exposes. “I need you, Bristol,” he whispers, his hot breath rushing over my skin.
“Why do you have to be sweet when I’m trying to be realistic?” I moan, arching my back, eager for more of his mouth. “I’m trying to have a serious discussion here, and you’re distracting me with— Oh!” I cry out when he sucks my nipple into his mouth, his teeth dragging over my sensitive flesh. “Mmm. With that.”
“Because it’s true,” he says, matter of fact. “I know you need me too, baby. You don’t even have to admit it. I can hear it in the way you say my name,” he informs me, then circles my nipple with his tongue, soothing the ache. “I see it in the way you look at me when you don’t know I’m watching.” Taking my hands in his, he presses my palms to his chest. His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a smile that instantly has me returning one of my own. “I feel it every time you touch me. We don’t need words complicating things. Your body tells me everything that I need to know.”
“Ugh,” I respond, rolling my eyes. “I can’t argue with that, Tage.”
“Good. You’re not supposed to, Bristol,” he replies with a satisfied smirk. “Can I make love to my girl now?”
Glancing over, my eyes widen when I spot the pervy pooch watching us again. Looking back at Tage, I nod. “As soon as you put the dog in the bathroom.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mayor of Muffington
Tanner
The smell of coffee and pancakes have me fumbling off the sofa and making my way for the kitchen. Cracking my neck from side to side, I roll my shoulders in an effort to work out the kinks in my sore muscles after sleeping on that torture device Bristol tried to pass off as a couch. I have slept on concrete floors softer than that damned thing.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Bristol says when I step into the room. Handing Tage a cup of coffee, she smiles at me. “I see you’re the lucky bastard that got stuck with the couch.”
“Your grandmother was a sadist,” I groan, snatching a mug from the dish rack. “I’d bet my left nut, and my entire comic book collection, that your Gramps knew better than to piss her off and end up havin’ to crash there.”
Bristol laughs. “Tonight, maybe you should sleep back there,” she offers, pointing to a sun room. “Or grow some balls and kick Greer’s ass so you can take his room,” she shrugs. “Whatever works.”
“At this point,” I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. “I’d be happy sharin’ the floor with the damn dog.”
“He actually crashed in the bathtub,” Tage says, plating a short stack of pancakes and sitting them on the kitchen island in front of Bristol. “So the floor is all yours, buddy.”
“No one else up yet?” I ask, realizing the house is damn quiet considering all of us being here.
“Greer has been up since the ass crack of dawn; he decided to take a run down the beach,” Bristol replies while smothering her pancakes with butter and syrup. “Haven’t seen Evan or Quinn yet,” she snorts, shaking her head. “Probably won’t see her hungover ass until right before dinner. I just hope she wasn’t wrapped around the toilet all night.”
“You have any aspirin?” I ask, filling a second mug. “I’ll go check and see if she’s still alive. Besides, I probably owe her an apology for being such a dick last night,” I add, scrubbing a hand over my face.
“I’m sure she’s used to it by now,” B replies, shoveling a fork full of pancake into her mouth. Chewing, she winks at me. “Medicine is in the cabinet above the toaster. Splash a little vodka in her coffee. Little hair of the dog will perk her right up.”
“I think I’ll just go with a little creamer and hope for the best,” I reply, digging the container from the fridge. Fixing up the mug, I grab the bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet, snatch a pancake from the pile Tage has beside the stove and shovel it into my mouth as I make my way toward Quinn’s room.
“Quinnie?” I call, knocking on the door. “You alive in there?” Twisting the knob, I crack open the door. “I come bearing gifts to sacrifice to the hangover Gods. You think we could talk about last night?” I ask, stepping into the room. “I’m really—”
The words lodge in my throat, choking me. Quinn lies, sprawled out across Evan’s bare chest, wearing nothing but his t-shirt from last night. He snores, causing her to stir. “Tanner?” she murmurs, shoving the blonde hair from her face. Pu
shing up from Evan’s chest, she rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands before finally meeting my eyes. Her mascara is streaked down her splotchy face, the red lipstick she almost always wears, smeared. “What are you doing in here?”
“I, uh,” I stammer, holding up the mug. “Brought you coffee and some aspirin for your head, but I see you’re all set.”
“Hey, man,” Evan says with a yawn. Sitting up, he leans back against the headboard and pulls his long black hair back out of his face. Smears of red streak his bottom lip. Looking at his watch, his eyes widen. “Shit.” Getting to his feet, he quickly rounds the bed. “Who the fuck let me sleep in?” he asks, grabbing the coffee from my hand and chugging it down. “We all know that isn’t allowed.”
“Thank you for last night, Evan,” Quinn says, lying back down and hugging the pillow he was just sleeping on to herself. “And this morning. It means more than you know.”
“Anytime, Foxy,” he says winking at her.
Blowing him a kiss, she flashes him a sweet smile, her cheeks flushing. Blood boils in my veins. Images of them together in this bed last night, and this fucking morning, flash in my head. “You motherfucker!” I shout, my fist slamming into Evan’s jaw.
Evan stumbles back, the mug breaking when it slams to the ground. “Tanner!” Quinn shouts, jumping off the bed and shoving her way between us before I can swing again. “What the hell has gotten into you?” she asks, angrily.
“Come on, asshole,” Evan taunts, holding out his arms in challenge. “Want another shot at jackin’ up my pretty face? I’ll give you one more free pass, fucker. Then, I’m gonna lay you the fuck out like the cheap shot throwin’ bitch you are.”
“Fuck you, E,” I spit, ready to cram that smug look right down his goddamn throat, even if he beats me bloody after. “Is anyone off limits to you? You gonna fuck Bristol too? You could sell tickets and shit.” Evan charges, bumping into Quinn as he swings over her head, desperate to tear into me.
