Soaring (9781311625663)

by Ashley, Kristen

  He lifted his free hand to curl his fingers around the side of my neck and used his thumb to stroke the skin under my jaw when he replied carefully, “Seen a fair few.”

  I let that go because I didn’t want to delve deeper and changed to teasing.

  “Rescue many cats from trees?”

  “Yeah.”

  I blinked up at him in surprise.

  “I thought that was a myth.”

  He shook his head. “Big cities do not rescue cats. You call a fire department in a city to rescue a cat, they’ll tell you to call animal control. We’re not a big city. We’re a small community and our commitment is to serve that community. So people call us about cats in trees and we do what we can. This does not include takin’ the rig out and using our ladder to rescue Fluffy. This includes sending a guy out to see what he can do to help. We also get calls about cats gone missin’. Dogs gone missin’. Kids gone missin’. Cats and dogs, we don’t roll out. Kids, obviously, we do. Then there’s domestic disturbances. Car crashes. Smoke alarms goin’ off. Someone fallin’ off a ladder cleanin’ their gutters. Someone slicin’ into their finger cuttin’ tomatoes. You name it, call comes in direct or they’re punted to us from 911.”

  “Someone slicing into their finger?”

  “Me, Jimbo and our two lieutenants are certified EMTs and Freddy’s doin’ his training. Doesn’t matter. It’s protocol for the FD to be called in the event of a household accident. But in Magdalene’s case, closest hospital is twenty minutes away, closest independent ambulance service is fifteen. Even with ambulances on the cruise, in most cases, our boys can get there faster. ”

  I blinked again. “You’re an EMT?”

  “Got outta high school, the next month went to firefighter school. Graduated, volunteered at MFD while goin’ for my EMT. While doin’ it, lived in the room over my best friend’s parents’ garage and worked my dad’s catches for money.”

  Wow. Mickey really wanted to be a firefighter and all that entailed.

  “Your dad didn’t get angry you didn’t join the family business?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “He paid for my training. All of it. Said if I went to college like Sean, Frank and Dylan, he’d be payin’ for that so he paid for what I wanted to do. And he was proud of me. Fuckin’ seriously proud of me. Proud of all his boys and showed it. He didn’t want anything for me, or any of us, except to love what we’re doin’ and be happy.”

  “I think I like your dad,” I murmured.

  “Lot to like. Good man. Good dad. Good granddad.” Mickey gave me another grin. “He’ll like you too. He likes cute and smartass.”

  I very much liked that he seemed sure I would meet his dad but it was on the tip of my tongue to ask if his father liked Rhiannon. I stopped myself because that was a question that would change our comfortable mood to an awkward one. Not to mention it wasn’t any of my business, and further she was gone, so it didn’t matter anyway.

  I pushed closer, saying, “I knew you were impressive because you’re good-looking, a good dad and a good man. Now I know there’s a lot more to be impressed with about you, Mickey.”

  He shifted his hand to cup my jaw and said through low chuckles, “Got my looks from my folks, Amy. That’s hardly impressive.”

  “You don’t get to look at you all the time. Trust me, it’s impressive.”

  He kept chuckling as he bent closer and started kissing me.

  It felt great but it didn’t last long before he ended it and ordered in a whisper, “Go to sleep with your phone by your bed, baby.”

  He was coming to me.

  That made me happy.

  I pressed even closer and replied, “Okay, honey.”

  He bent in and touched his mouth to mine once before breaking contact and saying, “Go home and careful getting there.”

  I nodded, got up on my toes, gave him my own lip touch and then pulled out of his hold and walked away on my silver pumps.

  Even though I wanted to turn, wave, see him one more time, I felt his eyes following me, I hoped he liked what he saw, so I gave that to him and just kept walking.

  * * * * *

  Hazily I looked down at Mickey on his back in my bed, head to the pillows, while I rode his cock, shifting and angling my hips so every other stroke the head of it grazed the slick walls inside me, hopefully giving him something while I gave the same to me.

  My hope was granted when he growled, “Fuck,” knifed up and wrapped an arm around my hips, jerking me and angling me himself as he pulled me up and down, forcing me to ride him faster and harder.

  His other hand trailed up the silk of my nightie at my side and in, cupping my breast, his thumb dragging hard against my nipple, using the silk as added friction.

  His touch shot through me, my hips bucked and I lifted my hands to the sides of his head, whispering, “Mickey.”

  “Like your nighties, baby,” he told me and then pinched my nipple, keeping hold and twisting gently.

  That sent my hips jolting. I gasped as my sex convulsed around him, lost my rhythm and started grinding.

  “Ride, Amy,” he ordered gruffly, releasing my nipple but only to drag the silk and lace down, baring my breast and bowing his back to take it in his mouth and suck deep.

  Oh.

  Even better.

  I rolled my hips and clenched my fingers on his head as I panted, “Oh my God,” stuck in feeling all he was making me feel and unable to do anything but grind.

  His mouth released my breast and his head tipped back.

  “Ride, Amy,” he demanded on a growl, his thumb dragging over the slick his mouth left at my nipple.

  All I could do was glory in his cock buried deep, Mickey all around me, his thumb teasing my nipple so I didn’t do what I was told. I kept grinding and my head dropped back.

  “Right,” he bit out and surged up, still connected, and I was on my back in the bed, Mickey on me, one hand clasped to the back of one knee, yanking it high, the other arm wound around me, holding me steady, as he drove into me.

  “Oh God,” I breathed.

  “Work your clit,” he ordered.

  That clit contracted at the order.

  His mouth came to mine. “Wanna feel you workin’ yourself as I fuck you. Do it. Now, baby.”

  I shoved a hand between us and down and did it.

  When I did, my heels dug into the backs of his thighs and my hips came off the bed. Not long after, my head dug into the duvet and my lips parted.

  Because I went soaring.

  I felt Mickey’s mouth at my throat until I righted my head and then I felt his mouth on mine, the invasion of his tongue, and I loved how much Mickey kissed while he made love to me.

  He quit doing that when he normally quit doing that, and I cupped my hands on the back of his head to hold him to me so his grunt of release filled my mouth.

  He rode me hard through his orgasm before he rode me soft and did it with the same kind of kiss.

  When it left him, he ended the kiss, but gave me another one on my nose, then my chin before he slid out, saying gently, “Gotta get ready for work, darlin’.”

  I held on, not clingy, just lightly, as he moved out of my arms.

  I did this nodding.

  It was Friday morning. My kids were going to be there after school. I would see them but I wouldn’t see Mickey until they were gone.

  He pulled the bedclothes over my lower half before he exited the bed.

  I twisted so I could watch him saunter to the bathroom.

  I curled into myself as I heard the shower go on.

  This was becoming our routine.

  Mickey came to me after being at the firehouse. Had sex with me. Slept with me. Had sex with me in the morning. Showered at my place. Went to his, changed clothes and went out.

  It was a routine that was working for me.

  I looked to the clock.

  It wasn’t even six thirty.

  At that, I smiled a lazy smile, liking
a whole lot how Mickey was making time for me.

  With my lazy smile, I lazed in bed, listening to the shower. I continued to do it when Mickey came out, short hair wet, naked body moving around and becoming clothed.

  When he’d accomplished that, he sat at the end of my bed, reached out a hand and cupped my cheek.

  Through this, I didn’t move.

  The soft way Mickey was looking at me, I knew he didn’t mind.

  “Lookin’ forward to the kids?” he asked a question he knew the answer to.

  “Definitely,” I gave him that answer.

  “You get time, touch base with me.”

  I turned my head slightly and pressed my cheek into his hand.

  “Definitely,” I repeated.

  “Gotta head out,” he said.

  I nodded under his hand.

  When he was about to move, I caught his wrist. He stilled and focused again on me.

  I lifted up to my elbow and kept hold of his hand by his wrist, tucking it to my chest.

  “I just want to say that it isn’t lost on me, the effort you’re making to spend time with me.”

  He stared at me but said nothing.

  “Mickey?” I called when this went on a while.

  “Babe, you wear short, sexy nighties.”

  That was when I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked when he didn’t elucidate.

  “Silky ones that feel good.” He paused before he added, “With lace.”

  “Well…” I drew that out but trailed off, still not certain what he was saying.

  “Feel good,” he stated, his eyes locked to mine. “Look good. You run to the door in the middle of the night to open it for me. I get my mouth on you, that’s it. You put it right out there you can’t get enough of me. We fuck before we sleep. We fuck when we wake up. You’re a seriously good lay. And you made the boys brownies.”

  “I—”

  “Not a hardship,” he cut me off to say. “In fact, I’m a dumbfuck for not doin’ it before. Can’t do that shit when I got my kids. Still, lost a week.”

  I grinned, his words again making my heart take flight.

  “So don’t thank me for makin’ time to spend with you when I like spending time with you, Amy,” he finished on an order.

  “Message received, Mickey,” I told him through my grin.

  He kept ordering. “Now, you’re up, you can get up further and kiss me before I go.”

  He was right.

  I could do that.

  I pushed up and scooted to him, wrapping my arms around him as he did the same, and I put my mouth to his.

  He arched me over his arm and took over the kiss.

  It was heavy and heated before he broke it, lifted a hand to the side of my head and swept a thumb over my cheek.

  “Have a good visit with your kids,” he murmured.

  “I will, honey.”

  “Got mine on Monday. You’re over for dinner.”

  I nodded, feeling happy build inside me.

  “Later, Amy.”

  “Try to have a decent day at work, Mickey.”

  “Will do,” he muttered, brushed his mouth to mine and laid me back in bed.

  He had to know I was watching him walk away, and enjoying it (not the walking away part, the watching Mickey’s body doing it part).

  Still, he turned before he hit the doorway and gave me a soft look as he lifted his hand in a low wave.

  I gave him a soft look and a soft smile back.

  He faced forward and disappeared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They Were Back

  At three thirty-seven that afternoon, I heard the garage door going up.

  I stayed in the kitchen and continued doing what I was doing; rubbing herbed butter on a raw chicken I was going to put in to roast.

  The door opened and I turned my head that way, smiling and calling, “Hey, honeys.”

  “Hey, Mom,” Auden replied, my insides warmed then I went still as he walked right to me.

  Right to me.

  And when he got to me, he leaned down, kissed my cheek then looked to the chicken.

  “Excellent. Mom’s roast chicken. I’m starved,” he declared.

  I stayed still as he walked away, but my eyes watched him move out of the kitchen toward the landing.

  They caught on Pippa who was standing at the end of the counter.

  “Hey, Mom,” she launched in when she got my attention. “I know this is Mom Time and I woulda asked earlier, but Polly only told me today that her mom’s always wanted to see Cliff Blue. So she asked if she could come over some time with her mom and we could show them around. I thought she could come over tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine, sweets,” my mouth said for me, my tone sounding natural and calm and not how I felt.

  Ecstatic and overjoyed.

  “Cool,” she muttered, shrugging her purse off her shoulder and digging in to get out her phone. She then started wandering away, texting, but she did it talking. “Awesome you’re roasting a chicken. Haven’t had your chicken in ages.”

  I stood immobile with buttery hands watching my daughter wander away texting until she disappeared down the hall.

  I continued to stand immobile with buttery hands, fighting the urge to jump on my phone and text Robin, Lawr and Mickey to tell them what just happened.

  I was still fighting this when Auden yelled, “Hey, Mom! Can I move the bed from the side wall to the back wall?”

  I closed my eyes as euphoria swept through me.

  I opened them and yelled back, “Yeah, kiddo! Hang tight, I’ll get this chicken in and help!”

  “I will too!” Pippa said after me.

  My throat felt thick, I could feel the tears gathering behind my eyes and that was when I stood there and fought that.

  It was a fight I had to win because I had to get the chicken in the oven, clean my hands and help my son move his bed in his room to where he wanted it to be.

  I focused on doing the first parts, and after the chicken was in and my hands were cleaned, I walked toward my children’s rooms, calling, “We get this bed moved, you know the drill! Homework done first thing so you don’t have to worry about it all weekend!”

  “But there’s something I wanna watch on TV tonight!” Pippa called back.

  I was in her door when she finished. “So watch it with your books in front of you.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered, but she did it good-naturedly.

  “Come help me with your brother’s bed.”

  She nodded, tossed her phone on her comforter and I moved out of her doorway toward Auden’s room, thrilled with the knowledge that my baby girl was following me.

  * * * * *

  “Mom, you’ve got nothing in your scheduled recordings,” Auden announced after dinner that evening.

  He was lounged on the couch across from where I was lounged in my fabulous armchair. He had the remote up and pointed at the TV.

  “I don’t watch that much TV, kid,” I reminded him.

  He looked back to the TV and started pressing buttons. “You got HBO. Showtime. Cinemax. Jeez, you got the premium package.” His eyes returned to me. “You don’t even wanna record movies?”

  I’d been so busy, except with Mickey and his kids and when I had my kids, I hadn’t thought about movies.

  “That’s a good idea,” I murmured.

  “Hey!” Pippa snapped, bouncing into the room, coming from whatever she’d been doing in her bedroom (hopefully her homework), her gaze aimed at the television. “Don’t use up all the DVR space. I get half.”

  “You get a third, Pip. Mom’s gonna start recording movies.”

  “Whatever, Auden. I get a third so don’t use it all up,” she returned, throwing herself on the couch and kicking at his legs unnecessarily to make room for herself when there was already plenty.

  “Don’t be a douche,” Auden bit out, moving his legs back to where they were before Pippa kicked the
m.

  “Just ’cause you’re taller than me doesn’t mean you get the whole couch, Auden,” she retorted.

  “Actually,” I put in, “it kinda does.” Both kids looked at me, but I looked to Pippa. “You don’t need that much room, sweets. The couch is long, you have plenty. Share with your brother, baby.”

  She hunched back into the couch, looking to the TV and mumbling, “You always take his side.”

  “I didn’t get a new comforter, Pippa,” Auden returned.

  Oh no.

  “Do you want one?” I asked my son.

  “No,” he answered me. “Just pointing out she’s full of it.”

  Pippa looked to me. “Can you get another armchair like yours that I can sit in?”

  That would crowd the space and look funny.

  “No,” I told her gently.

  “I cannot believe you asked Mom to buy you a chair,” Auden said precisely like he couldn’t believe it.

  “That chair is awesome,” Pippa retorted, making the warmth inside me snuggle deeper, which was what their bickering was doing, as crazy as that sounded.

  Auden turned his attention back to the TV, clicking the remote, answering, “It is. But it’d look stupid, crammed up here with all this other stuff. And it’s not like chairs grow on trees.”

  “I didn’t say they did,” Pippa returned.

  “Just be cool for once,” Auden shot back.

  “Okay,” I cut in. “I love it that you love my chair, Pip. And I love it that you’re protective of my design aesthetic, Auden. But how about we make this zone,” I circled my hand to indicate the space we were occupying, “a bicker free zone for ten minutes.”

  Pippa hunched back into the couch and Auden turned back to the TV, doing this grinning.

  “Design aesthetic,” he muttered, clearly amused.

  Back in the day, I amused my boy often.

  Right then, knowing I did, I tasted a sweet so beautiful, I knew I’d buried the memory so understanding I’d lost it wouldn’t kill me.

  When he did, Pippa audibly swallowed back a giggle before also muttering, “Mom’s so goofy.”

  I drew in a silent breath and let it out.

  Whackjob I hated.

  Goofy I’d take since, to my kids, something they told me frequently, I’d always been goofy.

  That also tasted sweet.