by J. A. Little
We keep going as long as we can, but I can’t hold it forever. I make sure she’s close and then start speeding up. I come violently just as she lets go.
“Jesus,” I groan, holding her head between my hands as my dick continues twitching inside her. “Fuck, I love you.” I rest my head against hers and pull out slowly.
I’m still on top of her, but I don’t move. It feels too good. I wish I could get closer. I’m never close enough. Kayla doesn’t complain, though. She holds me, her hand running through my hair until I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
Chapter 69
Kayla
I lie awake happily long after Dean’s fallen asleep. His weight and the heat of his naked body are comforting. I am completely content. I don’t need anything more than what I have at this moment. I am on cloud freaking nine.
I smile to myself, thinking of Dean’s words. He loves me. It was such a Dean moment, too. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with him in the first place—he doesn’t say things because they’re expected, and he doesn’t really think about his emotions. They just come pouring out, uncensored.
I trail my fingers from the nape of his neck down to his back. The ridges of the burn scars are prominent. I wonder how much he feels when I dig my nails into his back. I’ve never thought about how much it might hurt him. He’s never said anything, but that would be just like Dean. When he shifts, I pull my hand away and turn on my side. He curls around my body. His heavy breath is warm against the top of my ear. I let out a sigh and snuggle back into him.
* * *
“What are you doing?” I ask Dean on Saturday afternoon as I set an armload of bags on the countertop. Claire and I just got back from the grocery store. I’m annoyed because I spent about one hundred dollars on shit we didn’t need due to Claire’s cravings.
Dean glances up at me from his stack of paperwork. “Uh…nothing.” Scooting his chair back, he motions for me to sit on his lap. I do and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Applications. My dad put a few ads out for new caseworkers on Wednesday.”
“And you’ve already received that many?”
Dean snorts. “It’s not that many. He requested a summary of why they want the job and what they hope to get from it. Some people just don’t understand the concept of a ‘summary.’”
I laugh. He smiles. I lean in, pressing my lips against his, and feel his hand rub up and down my thigh.
“Ugh. Do you guys ever stop?” Claire groans. She’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Her little belly is poking out. She spent almost two hours crying the other night about how none of her clothes fit because of how fat she’s getting. She’s not fat—she’s only put on about eight pounds—but the girl does eat. All. The. Time. I had to hide my scale because it was becoming an obsession for her to weigh herself every day, sometimes more than once a day.
I watch as she grabs a blueberry bagel, toasts it, smothers it with cream cheese, and walks back out of the room.
“What were we talking about?” I ask, shaking my head.
“We’re hiring.”
“Ah, yes. So you can stop working sixty-plus hours a week and spend more time with me.”
Dean nods. “Of course.”
I try to stand up to put the groceries away, but he holds me in place. “Emily suggested we offer you the job,” he says quietly.
“Me? Why me?”
He chuckles. “Because you’re a fucking amazing social worker. You’re honest, hardworking, and compassionate. And we trust you.”
“I…” I have no idea what to say.
“I told them you have a job you love.”
I nod. I do love my job. I can’t say that the idea of mixing things up a little hasn’t crossed my mind from time to time. Usually it’s when I’m stressed or having a really shitty day. But then I have a good day and realize the good times outweigh the bad. Burnout rates are high in child welfare, though, so I guess I’ll never say never.
“I thought I’d let you know.” He shrugs and loosens his grip on me.
“Well, thank you.” I smile and stand up. I know I haven’t really answered him, but I don’t need to. He never posed a question. And I’m kind of glad he didn’t. I don’t particularly like saying no to him.
Dean goes back to his papers while I put things away. Claire eventually emerges from studying in her room and joins me on the sofa. Summer school is much more intensive than regular school, and I think she’s stressed out, but now that she’s eaten, she seems much better. Logan showing up an hour later makes her even happier.
“Be back by six o’clock. My dad and Karen are coming over for dinner,” I shout.
“‘Kay!” Claire answers.
Not too long after they leave, Dean manages to talk me into a little afternoon delight. Actually, I walk around in only my underwear until he throws me over his shoulder. We never make it to the bed. He takes me up against the bedroom door in the hallway, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he pumps into me, growling and grunting against my neck. It’s fantastic. We shower and dress and still have time to prep the food for the grill before my dad and stepmom arrive.
Claire and Logan show up right on time. Karen takes to Logan immediately, drawing him into a big hug. At first he looks startled and unsure about how to react, but after a second he hugs her back. They sit and talk for over an hour. I can’t really hear what they’re saying because I’m sitting on Dean’s lap while he and my dad talk about the Twins game, but Karen’s expressions tell me it’s not all sunshine and flowers. Claire, who’s sitting between them, is holding tightly to Logan’s hand and stroking his arm comfortingly. I wish I knew what they were talking about.
Other than the obviously serious conversation, the night is easy and fun. Dean and my dad get pretty toasted, and around eleven Karen drags my dad out with a roll of her eyes. I snort when he grabs her butt on the way to their car, making her squeal. Dean is all but passed out on the deck chair. I’m not sure where Logan and Claire have gone, but as I’m escorting Dean to bed, I see that her door is open and they’re not in the room, so I’m not too worried.
Dean kind of falls into bed, and I strip him of his jeans. Getting his shirt off is a little harder, especially because he’s trying to pull me down on top of him, but eventually I get him situated.
“I love you,” he mumbles, mostly asleep. “Have I told you that?”
“Yeah, baby, you have,” I chuckle lightly.
* * *
The next morning, Dean is hungover and grumpy that he has to go to work on a Sunday.
“I’m gonna make sure the new guy has weekends,” he moans. Since he’s already in a bad mood, I don’t point out that if I took the job, it would be me who would get those hours and we’d never see each other. Instead, I hand him a travel mug of strong coffee and send him off with a kiss. He’s working for three days straight, but Wednesday is his birthday, so we’ve both taken Wednesday and Thursday off.
A couple of hours later, Claire is off shopping with Caitlynn, and I’ve dusted, disinfected, and scrubbed the house from top to bottom. I make a “quick” run to Target to get a few more cleaning supplies. One hundred forty-three dollars later, I’m on my way home. Other than a bottle of Windex and the package of paper towels that were on my original list, I honestly have no idea what I bought.
Pulling up to the house, I see Andy’s car in the driveway. It takes me off guard. He’s spent so much time at Sara’s lately that I’ve almost forgotten he lives here. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV. Turning, he gives me a big grin.
“Hey, buttercup.”
I drop my bags on the floor before flopping down next to him and nudging my way under his arm. He obliges and lifts it up so I can lean in close.
“Hi,” I finally say.
“You’ve been busy. This place is practically sparklin
g.”
“I got bored.”
“I see that. What else is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmmm. Why don’t I believe you?” he asks suspiciously.
I take a deep breath. “I just miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” he sighs. “I guess it was bound to happen someday, though, right?”
“Yep. It was.” We’re quiet for a long time, letting the noises from The Deadliest Catch fill the room.
“Spill it, Kayla,” he finally says when the closing credits start to roll. “I know you have something on your mind.”
I lean back so I can see his face. “Are you still considering moving in with Sara?” I ask quietly.
“Uh, yeah. It’s still being discussed. Why?”
I shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Sara is stupid happy with you there,” I say. Andy laughs. The smile lingers on his face. He’s stupid happy, too. “I think that if it’s something you really want to do, you should do it.”
“We’ve had this conversation, buttercup. What about you?”
“We had this conversation a long time ago. Things have changed. I’ve got Claire to take care of. And in less than six months, we’re going to have a baby, too. That should be enough to keep me busy.”
“That’s not much of an argument for being able to afford this place on your own.”
He’s right. It’s not. I’m not sure how I’m going to afford taking care of Claire and her baby, but I don’t want Andy to sacrifice what he wants for me.
I still haven’t responded when Andy cuts in. “What about Dean?”
I roll my lips together and look down at my hands. I’ve been trying to figure out where exactly Dean and I are going. Is what we have serious enough to take it to the next level? Is it too soon? I’m not sure.
“What about him?” I ask, sniffing.
“He’s here all the time. You thinking about asking him to move in?”
“I’m not trying to replace you,” I protest quickly.
“I know that.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Jesus, Kayla. How old are we? Seriously? Yeah, I want to move in with Sara. I want to marry her. I want to have two-point-five kids, a mutt named Max, and a house with a picket fence. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.” My eyes widen at his confession. “Isn’t that what you want with Dean?” he asks.
I open my mouth, but no words come out—only the squeak of someone who has no idea what to say. This seems to be happening to me a lot lately.
“I know this is the next step,” he continues, not looking at me. “But I keep wondering if I’m rushing into it.”
“You’re not,” I say, finding my voice. “It’s not like you’re getting any younger.” I smile when his head snaps up.
“Thanks a lot.”
I feel better now that I’ve successfully steered the conversation away from Dean and me.
“I’m kidding, but I’m not. I’m not a kid anymore, Andy. You don’t have to take care of me. I’ll be just fine.”
“I know you will, buttercup,” he says, drawing me into a big hug.
We don’t talk about relationships any more for the rest of the night. I grab a couple of beers and Andy turns on the Wii, challenging me to games of bowling and boxing. By the time Claire gets home, we’re lying on the floor throwing bottle caps at each other.
“You guys are weird,” she says, shaking her head. This makes us laugh hysterically.
“Did you get anything good?” I ask, rolling over onto my stomach.
“I guess. It sucks not having a credit card. I ran out of money too fast. Caitlynn had to buy me dinner.”
“If you need more money, just tell me.” I don’t make a lot, but I have a decent-size savings account, and I’m getting a small stipend for kinship care of Claire. I don’t want her to worry about money.
“I’m fine. I have enough,” she assures. “I just didn’t bring it with me. Anyway, I’m going to bed. I have to get up for school in the morning.”
“Night,” Andy and I say in tandem.
“I think that’s my cue, too,” I groan, pushing myself up off the floor.
“Good night, buttercup,” Andy mumbles.
“Night. See you in the morning.”
* * *
The next couple of days pass by too slowly. The hours drag, despite the fact that I’ve got a full schedule.
Dean and I don’t get many chances to talk. He’s struggling with the new boys in the house. One of them is a fighter. I worry about Matty, but I know that either Dean or Dana would tell me if he wasn’t okay. Still, I can’t help myself.
Tuesday, I spend all day in the field. I’m excited to see Dean, but when I get home, he’s not there. Half an hour later, I get a text.
Going for a beer with A at Hudson’s. Won’t be long. I’ll grab dinner.
I frown and set my phone down a little harder than I intend. I’m not mad, just disappointed.
“What’s the matter?” Claire asks from the floor of the living room, startling me. She’s lying on her side, her head resting on her hand.
“Jesus!” I yelp. “Nothing. What are you doing?”
“Studying, what else?” She tries to smile, but it’s forced. I have to admit, I miss my carefree little sister. I know this is all part of the reality of her situation, but I feel bad for her. She rolls onto her back, throwing an arm over her face. “Do I have to graduate?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she whines.
“Because you’re way too smart to just drop out.”
“Not so smart,” she murmurs, bringing the hand not covering her face to rest on her lower belly. I make the choice not to indulge her depressed mood.
“You’ve got six more weeks, and then you can take a break, okay? Maybe we can take a little trip.”
Her arm slips from her face, her eyes lighting up. “Really?”
I nod. “Sure, why not?”
“To a beach?” she asks hopefully.
“We can probably find a beach to go to,” I laugh.
“Can Logan come, too?”
The question takes me off guard. “Uh… I guess we can talk about that.”
“That’s not a no.” She grins. She turns back over, returning her attention to her book, and I decide to take a shower.
When Dean gets home about an hour and a half later, he has several Styrofoam containers that smell amazing.
“How’s Gage doing these days?” I ask once Claire has disappeared to her room to call Logan.
“He’s off the grid,” Dean says, using a napkin to wipe barbecue sauce off his fingers. “Lance said he had to toss him from the bar again a few weeks back, and no one’s seen him since.”
“Are you worried?”
He shrugs. “No. Not really. He always comes back eventually. He’s probably holed up in his apartment, wasted off his ass, with some hooker wrapped around his—” he stops and looks up at me. “Uh…”
“I get it. What about that chick, though? The waitress with the big boobs. Wasn’t he with her?”
Dean laughs. “Jodi?”
“Whatever,” I bristle, remembering my encounter with the cheap little viper.
“Neither one of them is the relationship type. I figured it wouldn’t last long, but it got her off my jock.”
“That’s a really, really good thing,” I mumble, wrinkling my nose. He pulls me into his arms so that I’m practically in his lap.
“I wouldn’t have touched her. You know that, right?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, letting my lips purse.
“Are you jealous?” He smirks.
“No,” I say indignantly.
He kisses my neck. His lips are warm and soft. “Not even a little? You’re kinda sexy when you’re jealous.”
I tilt my head away from him, giving him more room to explore. “Maybe a little.”
He laughs against my skin. “I love you,” he whispers. I think the words are still foreign to him because they
sound funny—like he’s speaking a different language and he’s not quite sure if he’s saying them right. Or maybe they’re foreign to me. Either way, I still love hearing them.
“I love you, too.” I lean into him a little more. “How was work?”
He sighs deeply and then hums. “Challenging.”
“Anything you can talk about?”
“I probably can, but I really don’t want to.” He sounds tired. It’s still pretty early, but I wouldn’t mind just crawling into bed with him and falling asleep.
“What are we going to do tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject. This puts a smile on his face.
“I thought I’d take you for a drive.”
“Where?”
“You know better than that, sweetheart.” He flashes me a devilish smirk. It reminds me of the ones he used to give me when we were still just dancing around each other.
“Not even a hint?”
“Pack an overnight bag.”
“Wait a minute,” I protest. “It’s your birthday. I thought we were gonna stay home and…”
“Play cards? Do each other’s hair?”
I blush. “Those were euphemisms.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I didn’t want to take the chance. Last time I got my hair done, I looked like some pink-and-purple version of Frankenstein’s bride.”
I laugh. “You looked so pretty, though,” I coo playfully. He pokes me in the side, making me curl into myself.
“Laugh it up, sweetheart. Next time we babysit, you get to be the victim.”
Chapter 70
Kayla
“Oh, God, Kayla.” Dean’s moan is a huge turn on. His hand gripping my hair as I move my mouth over his swollen cock is even more of one. I love the feel of him in my mouth, his hips rising and falling rhythmically, working with me to bring him to release.
