by J. A. Little
“What do you mean, ‘died’?”
Dean sits up so that my side is against his chest. One leg is straight out against the back of the couch, the other on the floor.
“Who died?” he whispers in my ear. I shake my head and hold up my finger.
“I don’t know. Sara’s uncle is taking a look at it right now. Hopefully it won’t be a huge repair, but we’re going to stay another night.”
“Okay,” I grunt because Dean has just taken my finger into his mouth and is sucking on it.
“You okay?” Andy asks.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”
Dean lets go of my finger and starts kissing up my arm. He grabs my hand and places it on the crotch of his sweatpants. I begin to rub him, smiling to myself as I feel him thrusting ever so slightly into me. I’m getting incredibly turned on. And with Andy telling me they aren’t coming home anytime soon, I’m ready to end the sexual drought.
“I’ve called my office. I was supposed to have three adjudications tomorrow, but Kerry’s covering for me. Sara left a message for Kate. Can you make sure she gets it in the morning?”
“Yeah, sure.” My eyes roll back into my head when Dean’s mouth reaches a pulse point on my neck. He bites down gently.
“Thanks. I don’t want to know what’s the matter with you, do I?”
“No,” I respond.
Dean turns my hips so that my ass is directly against him, forcing me to stop stroking him because the angle is too uncomfortable. He slips his hands up my shirt and around, covering my breasts and pulling the cups of my bra down.
“When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Assuming the car can be fixed, tomorrow afternoon.”
Thumbs roll around my hardening nipples, sending tiny shock waves straight down my body.
“Ahhhhh. Okaybecareful.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
I don’t even say good-bye before hitting END and tossing my phone onto the table. “What are you doing to me?” I gasp.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks.
I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. “Andy and Sara are stuck in Fargo at her parents’ house.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” he breathes seductively into my ear. “Does that mean I don’t have to worry about Daddy interrupting me while I eat?”
“Are you that hungry?” I ask, running my hands up and down his thighs.
“You have no idea.”
“Maybe I should get up and make you something, then.” If I thought I was going to get very far with my teasing, I was wrong. Dean lets me stand up, but he’s right behind me, his arms around my waist.
“Don’t play with me, woman,” he growls, turning me to face the couch. “I’ve got everything I need, right here.” He pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side, then unsnaps my bra. It, too, falls to the floor. My chest is heaving with raw need. I really want him. I feel Dean’s hand flat against my back as he applies pressure.
“Is this okay?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod. “This is more than okay.”
“Good. Then lean forward and put your hands out.”
I do as he tells me, gripping the back of the couch. I don’t have to see him to know he’s taking off his own shirt, but I peek anyway. A bare-chested Dean is always a sight to behold.
“Eyes forward, sweetheart.” He smirks. I grin, bite down on my lip playfully, and turn back toward the couch. He kneels down, and his fingers toy with the waistband of my pajama pants before slipping them down my legs, and then I’m completely naked. I feel vulnerable, but not in a bad way.
Dean doesn’t move, nor does he touch me—not at first, anyway. The anticipation is driving me crazy. Then his lips are at the base of my spine, moving upward as he stands. He nips my skin softly and then smoothes over it with his tongue.
“Dean?” I pant.
“Hmmm?”
“I really want you inside me.”
He freezes for a second. “Right here?”
“Right here,” I assure, pressing myself back into him.
“Move over that way,” he says, pointing to the couch. “On your hands and knees.”
The couch shifts and I feel him behind me, his hard cock against my backside, sliding between my legs, back and forth against me. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation.
“Ohhhhhh,” I moan loudly as he pushes into me without warning. He groans, holding me in place as I adjust to his size, which doesn’t take long. I love that he can read my body so well. He speeds up and slows down without waiting for me to tell him, which is good since I seem to have completely lost my ability to speak.
“Do you like it this way?” he asks, his hips slapping against my ass roughly. I can’t answer. I’m too busy gasping for breath. All I can do is nod. My arms are shaking with the force he’s putting into fucking me. After a few more thrusts, he withdraws, pulling me back so that I’m essentially sitting in his lap.
“I really like that position,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I like this one, too. But I want to see your face when you come. It’s been way too long.” His hand snakes down between my legs. “Tell me how you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
I’m having a hard time concentrating. He’s stimulating several areas at once with his fingers, his mouth, his smell. I feel like I’m high.
“Kayla? Tell me what you want,” he demands. I turn around and wrap my legs around him. He smirks, guiding his cock back inside me. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.”
“You feel so good,” I pant, rocking my entire body into him. “Oh my God.” His hands are on my hips, helping me slide his cock in and out. He’s watching me. Watching me lose my battle to keep my orgasm at bay. “I’m…I’m gonna come. I can’t… Oh, shit.” I start trembling as it hits me full force.
“That’s it, baby,” Dean says, gripping me harder and moving his hips upward faster. “Let it go. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He guides me through effortlessly, letting me slow down to a near stop. I catch my breath and grin lazily. I realize he hasn’t come yet and begin to move again.
“Hold on, sweetheart. Lie back.” We switch positions so that he’s on top of me again. “Can I get a little rough?” he asks, his eyes bright. I love seeing him like this—so excited. I grab the back of his head and yank his mouth down to mine, biting his lip.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles and pushes back into me gently. When I look at him in question, a mischievous smile appears. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He’s torturing me on purpose. He knows I’m anticipating what he’s promised. His hand slides up underneath my knee and slowly hitches my leg up, placing my calf on his shoulder. And then he begins to pound me. It’s so good. I can feel the pressure building again.
“You gonna come again?”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Don’t stop.”
“Tell me when, sweetheart.”
“Dean!”
He’s thrusting into me so hard and fast at this point that I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to walk, but I couldn’t care less. I clench around him and, with a final thrust, he’s there with me.
Dean’s back arches, his dick pulses. There’s something so primal about this moment. I close my eyes and bite my cheek because I’m so close to telling him I love him and I know he’s not ready to hear that. I’m not sure he’ll ever be ready to hear it, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.
He takes a few deep breaths. “That was fucking incredible. Are you okay?” I nod without opening my eyes. “Kayla?”
“I’m fine. Oh, God, I’m more than fine. Jesus Christ.”
Dean laughs and pulls out of me before standing. “I’ll be right back.” He comes back with a wet towel and a blanket. “I found this in the closet, is it okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
He hands me the towel, and I clean myself up. When I’m done, Dean wraps us both in the blanket. It’s warm and soft and so comfortable.
I’m still in his arms—he’s not going anywhere—and I honestly can’t remember the last time I was happier. Dean falls asleep first, but next to his heavy rhythmic breathing, I don’t stand a chance.
* * *
Later that evening after taking a long, hot shower, Dean takes me out for sushi.
“Try this,” I say, holding up a piece of squid with my chopsticks.
Dean’s nose wrinkles, and he shakes his head. “No.”
“Aw, come on. It’s good.” I laugh.
“Nuh-uh. I’m gonna stick with my chicken fried rice,” he says, taking a gigantic bite of his own dinner.
“How is it possible that a big, tough guy like you is afraid to eat a little raw fish?”
“That’s not a fish,” he protests, pointing his fork at me. I roll my eyes and shove the squid into my mouth.
“What about this one?”
“What is it?” He looks at my tuna warily.
“Why don’t you try it, and then I’ll tell you?”
“Stop trying to feed me raw fish. It’s gross.”
“You sound like Logan,” I snicker.
“You tried to make him eat that shit, too?”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. How’s he doing? Any better?”
I saw Logan last week, after Dean told me he might be thinking about bolting with his girlfriend. Logan vehemently denied it and got really pissed at me when I started asking questions. He screamed and yelled about his “fucking privacy” before storming out. Emily said she got a similar reaction when she tried to talk to him a few days before. Matty, who was also in the room, just shrugged, saying he didn’t know anything.
Matty seems to be getting more and more comfortable with the prospect of Logan leaving care. He’s obviously not happy about it, but Rebecca, his school counselor, has been meeting with him twice a week for an hour during study hall. I think it’s helping.
Dean shrugs and takes a drink of Sapporo. “His car’s done.”
“Oh. Uh, cool. Is he driving it?”
Dean shakes his head. “He’s picking it up on Tuesday. Santiago is going to take him to get it inspected and registered under his name, and then it’s his responsibility.”
“He can do that if he’s not eighteen yet?”
“Apparently. As long as he has a legal driver’s license, he can register a car in his name without a parent or guardian. He doesn’t have any payments to make, so it’s not a problem.”
“Are you really okay with that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I told Santiago it was fine.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I say, calling him out.
He takes a breath through his nose. “We sat down and had a chat last night when he asked me. I told him the basics about the accident and how I got all fucked up.”
“What did he say?”
Dean smiles. “He said he wasn’t me.”
I laugh. “That kid is so freaking stubborn.”
“I didn’t tell him everything, but I told him enough. I don’t do well when any of the kids start driving. I never have, and I probably never will, but at least I know that I’ve talked to them about what could happen. He’s on Wyatt House’s insurance policy right now, liability only. I told him if he gets one fucking speeding ticket, I’m pulling it, though.”
“How much is that running you?”
“About a hundred a month for however long he stays. It’s fine. I’m not worried about it.”
“Speaking of staying,” I sigh. “We need to sit down and have that meeting with him.”
“I know. He’s getting antsy. He asked Santiago for more hours. One of their guys had to quit last week, so he got them.” I take another bite of my sushi. “Something’s not right with him, Kayla,” Dean says quietly. “I’ve been watching him for the last couple of weeks, but I can’t figure it out. One minute he’s happy and relaxed, the next he’s wound up and agitated. He won’t talk to me, Aiden or Emily. I feel like I’m running up against a brick wall.”
“You are. Logan’s one of the best stonewallers I’ve ever met. Better than you.” I smirk and continue. “When there’s something he doesn’t want you to know, the only way you’re going to find out is by accident.”
“When he’s riled up.”
I nod. “Really riled up. It’s a matter of weighing the costs and benefits of getting him that way.” We both sit, contemplating the situation before I try to lighten the mood again. “How about this one?” I ask, pointing at my eel.
“That’s fucking… Ugh, that just looks… You realize I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth, right?”
“You’re such a baby,” I tease.
Chapter 46
Kayla
Monday is a long, long workday. Not in terms of time, but patience. Warren has a set of three-year-old twins girls in the office for half the day, and I swear it’s the best form of birth control. They are everywhere—getting into everything, asking non-stop questions that none of us understand because we’re not fluent in toddler. One of them gets ahold of a sharpie and writes all over the walls, Warren’s desk, and her sister’s clothes and skin. The foster mother finally picks them up, and we all sit at our desks, enjoying silence for the last half hour of the day.
When I get home, Dean is there, sitting at the kitchen table and laughing with Andy and Sarawhile Andy makes dinner.
“When did you guys get home?” I ask, setting my things down. I walk straight to Dean and give him a kiss.
Sara grins at me. “About half an hour ago. We found this bum outside and decided to feed him.”
Dean laughs, his arm slipping around my waist. We eat dinner and then settle down in the living room, Dean and me on the couch, and Sara and Andy on the floor. Dean tells us the story of what happened at the gala with Madison. The visual of that woman making such a ridiculous fool out of herself in front of so many people is too much. Sara and I are giggling hysterically.
“That bitch is nasty. She’s my age, too. I don’t get it,” I complain. “She doesn’t have to fall in love, but Jesus Christ, shouldn’t she bang someone her own age? Or at least closer to her age? Why marry someone she so obviously doesn’t want to be with?”
“Money,” Sara spits. “Chicks like her would do a dead guy if they thought it’d improve their status.”
“That’s stupid,” I mutter. “I’d rather be living happily in a double-wide than in a mansion blowing air up the ass of some rich old dude.”
Dean’s whole body shakes in laughter.
“People get married for all sorts of fucked-up reasons, Kayla.” Andy says, stretching out on the floor and putting his head in Sara’s lap.
“Trust me, I know. My whole life got messed up because of those fucked-up reasons.”
“Do you think your mom married your stepdad for the money?” Sara asks, running her hands through my brother’s hair. I’ve wondered that same thing a million times.
“No. I think she fell in love with him. I think Richard represented a freedom she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her fifteen-year marriage was stale, and she had a kid who was growing up and making her feel older and older. And then in walks this smart, handsome, respected surgeon offering her excitement.”
“Are you defending her?” Dean asks, tilting his head.
“No. I think the way she went about it was complete shit. If she wasn’t happy, all she had to do was tell my dad. Yeah, he would have been upset, but… I think she took the chickenshit way out. And for what? To spend the next seventeen years with a controlling, manipulative prick like Richard. Way to trade up, Mom. My dad may not have been exciting, but at least he respected her; at least he loved her. Richard loves himself.”
Dean’s fingertips are drifting back and forth over my neck, making my skin prickle with goose bumps. I lean into him, and his fingers drift to my arm without breaking their rhythm.
“I almost lost my shit at Claire’s dinner,” Andy scoffs. “If we hadn’t left… What a fucker. They give their kid two gra
nd in cash for her birthday and then bitch and complain about people who actually put thought into their gifts. And your mom, Kayla. Jesus Christ, when did she turn into such a robot?”
I lift my shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really been paying attention.” I feel a pang of guilt.
“Why do you think she stays with him?” Sara wonders quietly, almost as if she didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“I can honestly say I have no idea. I don’t understand anything she does.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t understand my mother either.” Dean chuckles.
“But you said she defended you to that woman, right?” I ask. “That’s a big step for her.”
“Defended you for what?” Sara asks. Dean looks up at her. “Sorry,” she squeaks. “I just… I don’t know what you did.”
“You don’t?” Dean asks, looking surprised.
Sara shakes her head. “No.” She glances at both Andy and me. “Do you guys?” Andy and I both nod. “Oh.” I can tell by her voice that she doesn’t like being the only one out of the loop, but it’s not my place to tell her. Dean glances at me. I shrug lightly.
“It’s up to you.”
I watch as he contemplates what he’s going to do. Finally, he takes a deep breath.
“I was arrested for possession of methamphetamines when I was nineteen. I was already on parole for an incident from when I was a juvenile, so I served three years.”
“Okay,” Sara says, looking as though she’s processing it. I want so badly to tell them that he didn’t do it. I hold my tongue, though. While Dean’s talked about dealing with his past, and I know finally admitting to others that he served time for a crime he didn’t commit will help him in that process, I can’t force him to do it.
He closes his eyes and lowers his head.
“I didn’t do it.” The words are so soft that if the room weren’t dead quiet, no one would have heard him.
“What are you talking about?” Andy asks, sitting up and looking between us. “You didn’t… The drugs weren’t yours?”
“They were my wife’s.”
“Wife’s?” Sara asks, her eyes wide.
