Silver Player: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “I was dying a little inside. That was intense,” he admits. He twists his neck, so his lips brush my forehead. Something I’m noting about Billy is his need for physical contact when things turn tough. It happened earlier when he showed up along with the local sheriff. When he climbed behind me on my bed and held me, like he couldn’t get me close enough. When he doesn’t know what else to do in a situation, he offers up himself.

  “I’m not sure what I’d do if I lost her now.” He swallows, the movement of his throat near my forehead. He clears it, and continues, “I just found out I have her. My daughter. I don’t want to go back to a time without her.”

  We should talk about the future. What’s going to happen moving forward as we can’t change the past. But not tonight. For now, I’m relieved Sadie is home and safe. She needs some additional support outside Billy and me, and we should talk about that option as well. But again, not tonight. Tonight, I need to relieve Billy of his worries, assure him that Sadie and I aren’t going anywhere just like he’s tried to assure me he has the same thought. We’re a unit. Nothing will separate us. Nothing will separate the three of us.

  My hand falls to his chest, flattening to coast the plains of his pecs. His nipples stand erect under the tight tee, and I pause with a fingertip on the short nub. Then I circle it. He sucks in a breath, his abs drawing tight. His hand still cups my shoulder, and I skim lower, my palm covering the slight bumps and bulges of muscle above his waistline. He’s fit and firm, and I wonder what else is that way on him. My eyes drift lower, the evidence of his arousal present under his zipper. I pause, but my fingers twitch to discover him, distract myself from all other thoughts.

  “Roxie.” His voice croaks. “Whatcha doing?”

  My eyes close, afraid he’s read my mind, and I swallow the tightening in my throat when I admit, “I’m thinking about touching you. Comforting you.”

  His hand moves from behind his head, cupping my chin and tipping it so I look up at him.

  “Comfort me however you please.”

  Before I can respond, his hand covers my cheek, and he’s guiding my mouth to meet his. Our lips start slowly as his body shifts, pressing us front to front while we lie on our sides. Within seconds, the kiss deepens, and his body leans mine back, covering half of me as a leg slips over my thighs and his hand travels to a covered breast.

  “You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters as he watches his hand cover me.

  “I had a breast reduction,” I quietly state. His head pops up, his eyes wide.

  “Why?”

  “I was…heavier when I was younger, and they were too large, almost annoying. I had them reduced a few years back.”

  Billy looks down at my chest and then curls up to his knees. He throws back the cover and lifts my nightshirt, fulling exposing me to him.

  Staring at my chest, he speaks to them. “I’m sorry babies. She didn’t mean it.”

  With a giggle, I reach out to push him away. “You’re so immature,” I say until his mouth latches onto me, and I fall back to the mattress. The warm cavern of his mouth takes as much of me in while his hand palms the remaining globe. He massages as his tongue laps around my nipple and then sucks at the stiff nub. My back arches, forcing me into his mouth.

  “That feels so good,” I whisper, uncertain when my comforting him turned into him turning me on. My hands slip into his hair, scrubbing over his head as he moves to the other breast and returns his attention in a similar manner. Licking while squeezing. Sucking and nipping the sharp peak. He pulls off with a pop and stares down at them once more before lowering to my midsection, kissing my skin as his hand travels faster than his mouth and slips into my underwear.

  “Billy,” I groan as tonight was supposed to be about him, not me. But when his fingers enter me on a rush, two at once, I forget all thoughts, arching once again. My thighs separate, and my mouth seeks his. He’s driving me mad, working those digits in a manner my body responds to instantly. I don’t want to come so quickly, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s at the forefront of my daily fantasies, and it’s easy to reach the edge when he’s touching me.

  “You come so quick.” He isn’t teasing me, just stating a fact.

  “You do that to me,” I admit, embarrassed by the truth. A smile breaks across his mouth.

  “Only means more to come,” he flirts, and I roll my eyes until his thumb flicks the sensitive nub and my eyes roll for a new reason. He knows how to play my body, and I don’t want to think of all the practice he’s had.

  “How long’s it been, Roxie?” he asks without finishing the full question.

  “Three years,” I admit. Three long, lonely years with only fingers and an occasional steamy book as my lover.

  “No wonder it’s so quick, darlin’. But I’ll make up for lost time.” He shifts, tugging my underwear off my legs and tossing them to the floor. Lowering his face, he’s a man on a mission as his arms hold him over me, but then his face disappears between my thighs. Only his tongue touches me first, splitting me open and diving into my depths.

  Sweet Jesus.

  “You’re delicious, darlin’.” He parts me and enters me, and the thickness of the muscle in his mouth brings me to the edge again. My fingers comb into his hair, and my knees separate but lift.

  “Billy,” I warn as my hips begin to rock, rolling upward to draw him deeper into me with his tongue. He licks faster, his tongue curling, and the pressure along with the wetness stimulates another release. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the scream, remembering Sadie is down the hall dead asleep.

  “Fuck, Roxie. I want inside you.” He presses upward, tugging his T-shirt over his head and fumbles with the belt in his jeans. Quickly, he’s unzipping and shimming down the denim to his knees. Then he pats his pockets and searches the nightstand for something.

  “My wallet. I left it locked in the truck. I don’t have a condom.” He stares down at me, his eyes hesitant but pleading.

  Do I want this? Can I do this? He’s a player, and I know these things about him, but right now, I need him as much as he seems to need me. I want to be close to him, as close as I can be. I reach forward, my fingers wiggling.

  “I swear on all things—on Sadie, my mother and the pub—that I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in six months and never go without a condom. Not since Rachel.” That was a long time ago. Sixteen years actually. I dismiss this awkward conversation, struggling with the inner turmoil, but my body is winning out.

  “Just pull out or—” I don’t finish as he tugs his legs out of his pants and boxers collectively and tosses the material to the floor. His lower half comes between my open legs, and he drags himself through the slickness he made on my swollen folds.

  “I don’t have to enter you,” he says, watching where he rubs his head against my wet skin, and I whimper at the anticipation. “We can just play.” His voice turns playful as he strokes himself against folds and stops at the precious nub. The seeping tip of him presses against me and then he drags himself upward.

  “Uh,” I groan, the sensation too much.

  “Can I draw another one out of you?” he teases, working himself against my core, just outside of me, flirting with my clit enough to make me wild. My head rolls on the pillow. My fingers clutch at the sheets. He’s rocking his hips forward but not entering me. Instead, his thickness rubs along my seam, coating him in wetness, allowing him to slip and slide, and make my legs shake with the possibility. I want him inside me.

  “Billy,” I hiss, begging for relief. He rushes into me with a firm thrust, and my head lifts from the pillow. My hands reach for his backside, the area I’ve often noted as hard and perfect but never knew how exquisite he was until I held those tight globes in my hand, forcing him to remain deep inside me.

  “Darlin’,” he warns with strained tension in his voice. He pulls back once and then slams forward again, and I break. My legs stiffen, and my back curls. My fingers dig into his ass as I clench around him, hold
ing him as deep as I can and as tight as I can grip because I don’t want to lose this connection. I don’t want to lose him.

  My head falls back to the pillow while he begins to move in earnest. Holding himself over me with the pillars of his arms, he thrusts forward, tapping at something inside me while I lay there replete and unworthy of this worship he’s paying me. He mutters words like perfect and stunning, and how he never knew it would be like this, and then he quickly pulls out of me. Gripping himself, he squeezes his thickness, and warm liquid hits my hot skin near my pelvis. His ball sac presses against my wet folds while he relieves himself on my lower belly, and my head rolls to the side on my pillow.

  Eventually, he collapses over me, his hand coming to my nape and tugging me so my mouth meets his. His kiss is nearly as intense as what we just did, and our rapid breathing gets in the way. When he pulls back, he doesn’t look at me but places his face at my neck.

  “Roxie,” he whispers, and a million questions linger in my name.

  “Billy,” I state, equally as confused by the wonder of his body with mine and what this means for us both because casual just got complicated.

  + + +

  The day after Thanksgiving isn’t my busiest day as most people head to the outskirts of town for the faulty sales and false promotions of the larger chain stores. I’m looking forward to Small Business Saturday when people will shop local. I’m relieved the day won’t be busy as I’m exhausted when I wake. I need more sleep. Real sleep, not Billy under my head, heartbeat racing in my ear sleep.

  Surprisingly, I slept until noon, startled when I realize Billy is still in my bed minus most of his clothes and nestled up close to me under my blankets. The sensation confuses me as the reality of what we did last night settles in. I could get too comfortable accepting Billy Harrington in my bed. Briefly, I wonder how others feel when Billy visits and then leaves theirs.

  We’ve kissed. We’ve touched, but I have no idea how many others are still on Billy’s bedside list. It’s difficult to imagine his availability with all the time he spends with Sadie and myself, but still…he owns a bar, works late nights, and hasn’t come to my bed in the wee hours of the morning until this morning. Whose bed does he grace each evening? It’s difficult to believe he heads home alone every night.

  “Where are you going?” he mutters, his arm around my waist even as I sit up, attempting to slip from my bed.

  “I need to work.” It’s true, I do. Grace and I decided on reduced hours for the day due to the holiday as well as Sadie’s unplanned disappearance. It will be good to head to the bookstore. I need something to occupy my mind for a little bit as I struggle with my thoughts of what I did with Billy.

  “What time is it?” he mumbles, not making any effort to rouse.

  “Time to wake up. Need to sell the books.”

  His eyes flip open, and his head rolls on the pillow. His pupils dance around the room, taking in my small space and the dull light coming through the blinds. It must be gloomy outside. With a hand scrubbing down his face, he sits up next to me and then looks at me.

  His hair sticks up a bit. His scruff a day fuller. His lips roll, and I wonder if he’s worried about morning breath. I am. Then he brushes his lips over my covered shoulder and twists to the opposite side of my bed.

  Huh.

  Not exactly a heartwarming greeting for what we did last night, but I remind myself—casual. I assume this is how it goes. He grabs his pants from the floor while I stand. I need to pee. I need a shower, but something stops me from leaving the room as he hops once, tugging his pants up his legs and then turns in my direction as he buttons them closed. I don’t know why I’m watching him. I don’t know why my heart is clenching and my stomach wobbling and my eyes threaten to tear.

  Then he looks up at me, like he’s looking through me, and my mind recalls his confusion a moment ago. He’s wondering what he’s doing here. Perhaps he’s wondering what we did, and why, and can’t believe he did it with me.

  I can’t believe I told him about the breast reduction or that I’d once been fat.

  “Is this how it usually goes?” I begin, shutting off the butterflies in my belly at the sight of him tugging on his T-shirt. I didn’t explore his skin near enough last night, and now it’s over. This can’t become a thing. We can’t be using each other to right our spirit when Sadie throws us for a loop.

  “Meaning?” he asks, a little bite to his retort.

  “Sneaking out at noon. Makes it rather obvious, though.”

  “What’s obvious?” His hands slip into his pants, straightening his pockets and then he pulls them out to swipe through his hair. Good lawd, it’s a sin how good he looks in the morning, all messed up like he spent the night between my thighs, and I…

  Goodness. My hand floats up to my throat, and I clear it.

  “I mean, with your…friends…I don’t suppose noon is…unless you have nooners… and…” Billy’s staring at me, his mouth agape with his hands on his hips. My voice drifts. I don’t even know what I’m saying or why I’m speaking. I need to get dressed and get downstairs.

  “Just what do you think happened here last night?” He nods toward the bed.

  “We had sex. No big deal, right?” I shrug, but my heart crashes within my chest as I don’t feel half as cavalier as I’m trying to sound.

  “Nooners,” he repeats with an irritated snort like the crack of a whip. He bitterly chuckles.

  “Yeah, like afternoon delight,” I clarify. Maybe that’s when he sleeps with others. Before he goes to work, before he comes to see Sadie, before he has dinner with us and hangs out and takes her bowling and watches movies and…

  His fingers clench at his sides as he stands to his full height.

  “What happened here was not my reputation,” he says quietly.

  I stare at him, but he doesn’t look up at me.

  “You know, Roxie. You can be a real piece of work sometimes.” He shakes his head. “Not that it matters, but last night, you ruined me for all others.” The deepness of his voice along with the sharp tone is almost a slap of awakening.

  “May,” he emphasizes, reminding me what he told me about his recent sexual history. “One night with the wrong woman. And you think I’m having nooners, afternoon delights, and any other list of nefarious acts with random women.”

  “Nefarious,” I snort.

  “Yeah, even the dumbass pub owner knows a big word or two.” He sighs. “Why can’t you let it go?” He scrubs up his chin and holds his jaw.

  “You’re breaking me here, Roxie.” He pauses again. “But as for last night, thanks for clarifying. Lesson learned.”

  He tugs at the blankets fallen from his side of the bed, poorly straightening them in his anger and then stalks past me.

  I slowly spin as my bedroom door closes, and I hear him greet Sadie in the hallway, his voice tight as he attempts to be chipper. “Hey.” His irritation is poorly contained while I’m left wondering where I went wrong. I’m trying to play it casual like him.

  I ruined him for all others. I’m breaking him. He must be wrong. He’s breaking me as I watch him walk away.

  Then I reflect on what he’s said. May. One night. Wrong woman.

  Am I the one wrong…about him?

  27

  Introducing…my daughter.

  [Billy]

  “Hey,” I greet Sadie who stands just outside Roxanne’s bedroom door. Did she hear us fighting? Did she hear what her aunt said to me? Jesus, Roxie’s words can hurt. I shake my head and turn for the living room where I left my boots, socks, and winter jacket. I don’t bother with the sheets, spread but unused, on the couch, and I also don’t feel like giving Sadie an explanation for walking out of her aunt’s room.

  No big deal.

  Yeah, right, but this is complicated, and I don’t do complicated. I like carefree and easy. Sleep where I will; fuck who I want.

  Only that’s not really how I feel. Not this time. And my eyes look up to find Sadie w
atching me, and I realize it’s so much more complex than that.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing two hands down my face and then returning for my boot to snap the shoelace as I tugged too tight.

  “She didn’t mean it,” Sadie says, leaning on the corner of the wall marking the start of the hallway. “Whatever she said to upset you, she didn’t mean it.”

  I sit up straighter, my brows furrowing as I look at my daughter. If she didn’t hear what Roxanne said, then how does she know what her aunt means?

  “I scared her last night. She’s probably taking it out on you. My mother used to do that same thing to Aunt Roxie. She’d be upset with something I did but blame Roxanne for it.”

  I nod, but in my mind, this is a little different.

  “Yeah, well, Roxie isn’t your mother, and I’m not her sister.” I stand, brushing my hands down my jeans. “I’m your dad.” Her breath hitches as her eyes widen and her forehead wrinkles. “And as you skipped out on Thanksgiving dinner and meeting my family, I’ll be here tomorrow night at five. You’ll be meeting everyone then.”

  I’m not allowing any excuses this time. Stepping toward her, I intend to slip past her, but then I stop. “No running away this time.” I reach out for her, cupping her neck and pressing a kiss to her temple, reminding myself I’m grateful she’s safe and home.

  I move forward, making my way for the kitchen, noting the sound of the shower as I pass the bathroom. Thank goodness. I can’t face Roxanne.

  “Can Aunt Roxie come, too?” Sadie asks. I didn’t hear her following me, and I halt, spinning around to face her as we enter the kitchen.

  Presently, I don’t really want Roxie there. Forgive me if I’m in the wrong, but what she said hurts. I meant what I said: she’s breaking me. I had my heart ripped out by Rachel some seventeen years ago, but this…this makes that chest-clenching tightness burrow sharply into my sternum.