by Lacey Black
I can feel everything.
“Jesus,” he grunts, pressing hard and fast into my pussy and then stopping, as if to just feel.
“So good,” I groan, pressing back and wiggling.
“Stop that.”
Of course, I don’t. “Stop what? This?” I ask, doing it again, pressing back hard, taking him as deep as possible and grinding against him.
“Fuck, Freedom,” he groans, right before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting in hard.
“Yes, we are. Don’t stop,” I beg, holding on for dear life and pressing my ass up in the air.
His big hands slide around, one moving down my body and the second up. He gently pulls me back so that I’m standing in front of him, my ass still pressed back into him. His left hand cups my breast, tweaking and playing with my nipple until it’s so hard it’s almost painful. His right hand finds pay dirt between my legs, gliding easily through the wetness coating my clit. The moment he presses into it, I see stars.
“You tighten around me when I do this,” he whispers against my ear, continuing to thrust his hips forward, filling me to the max.
I don’t know what to focus on. The hand on my nipple, the one on my clit, or the fact his bare cock is driving me straight to orgasm. Probably a combination of all of it.
“You’re going to make me come,” I tell him, needing to lean forward once more. He doesn’t stop me as I place my hands on the armrest of the couch and bear down. Arching my back, he seems to hit just where I need him to.
With one arm still wrapped around my waist so he can toy with my clit, I ride his cock hard until I’m flying over the edge, my orgasm ripping through my body like an exorcist on speed. “Fuck,” I scream, feeling him tense behind me. To help him along—even though I’m pretty sure he’s already there—I reach between my legs and grab his balls, gently stroking them with my palm and fingers.
Samuel roars, my name slipping effortlessly from his lips, as he thrusts hard one last time, emptying himself into my pussy. I don’t stop stroking his balls until he’s shivering and gasping for air. His sweaty chest presses into my back as we both sag together and fall onto the couch.
“Holy shitballs,” I mutter, placing my lips on his forearm.
“Yeah.”
We lie together, a mess of tangled limbs on the small, yet comfortable couch, and try to slow our breathing. The only sound is the occasional car passing by and the steady beat of his heart under my ear. I could easily fall asleep, letting the serenity lull me into the darkness, but I don’t. All I can think about now is how mad he was when he came home.
“I’m sorry I painted your living room without asking if it was okay first,” I tell him, nestling my jaw into the side of his chest.
Samuel sighs. “No, I’m sorry I freaked out the way I did.”
“It’s just so…white and clinical here. I was trying to breathe a little bit of life into the place.”
He’s silent for a few long seconds before he responds. “I get that. It’s just, well, having you here is already pushing me outside of my comfort zone. These changes, they’re just a lot to take all at once.” There’s a pain in his voice, but I know it’s only because he speaks the truth. He’s as anal as they come, so me painting all his stuff is probably a hard pill for him to swallow.
I should have realized that before I did it.
“How about we make a deal,” he starts, running his nose along my forehead and sliding his fingers in my hair. “You can make small, subtle changes while you’re here, but you have to run them by me first, okay? And maybe, start in the guest room?” he says with a chuckle.
Smiling, I reply, “You got it, Sammy. I’ll make sure to ask before I buy the purple bath towels I was looking at and the black light for your bedroom.”
He stiffens around me. “Black light?”
“You know, all the rage back in the day. You can write messages on the walls and then when you turn on the light, the messages appear. I remember we used them in the compound every once in a while. I’m pretty sure the names on Master Leonard’s wall was his sex list, but I tried not to look at it when I went in to gather his laundry. He always left on his black light.”
“That’s…gross.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I brought home dinner,” he finally says, kissing my forehead. “Why don’t we run and get cleaned up and then we can eat.”
“Sounds good. I’m ravenous.”
And not just for food…
***
The days fly by and before I know it, another week has passed. I’ve made very few changes to Samuel’s house, little almost unnoticeable changes, as to not cause him any additional stress. Elma hasn’t been well for more than a week, but insists on going in every day, even though her son, Robert, as well as Samuel have tried to convince her to go home. Personally, I think she’s just tired. The woman has been working that funeral business for decades, and what she really needs is some R&R.
Samuel is working nonstop, putting in late hours at visitations and going in early to prepare for the funerals. It’s all part of the man he is, the one I’ve fallen in love with. He’s driven and committed, giving more of himself than required to make sure the job is done well, and right. He’s so dedicated to his job, but it’s hard to watch him wear himself completely out.
That’s why I’m stopping in for lunch. I have a basket full of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and rolls. I purchased some additional veggie kabobs for me and even some fresh, warm peach cobbler for dessert.
The low hum of a buzzer sounds when I enter the funeral home. I was grateful not to find extra cars in the lot, so I’m not interrupting funeral planning or something. That would be embarrassing.
Before the door is closed behind me, Samuel appears from the office. “Freedom?” he asks, concern written all over his face. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yeah, fine,” I tell him, holding up my basket of goodies. “I brought lunch.”
“Lunch?” He seems completely perplexed by this scenario.
“Yep, you know, food? I thought you could take a few minutes and eat a good meal,” I state as I breeze by him and enter the office. “Oh, Elma, you look absolutely stunning in that shade of blue. It’s definitely your color,” I tell the older woman, as I set my bags down on the floor in front of her desk.
Elma grins and stands, her cheeks flushed and a tired look to her green eyes. “Why, thank you, dear.”
“You know, Miss Elma, a little birdy has told me you’ve been putting in long hours again,” I say, as I come around to her side of the desk. Before she can open her mouth, I continue, “And for someone who has given her blood, sweat, and tears to this business, I think you deserve a break.”
“Oh, uhhhh…”
“That’s why I brought you a gift! It’s a care kit I put together with you in mind,” I tell her, bringing the bag up to her desk. “I have lavender and vanilla scented candles for relaxation, some rose and jasmine soaps and bath products, rich in essential oils, and a calming CD with soothing sounds of nature.”
“Wow,” Elma replies, grinning from ear to ear as she gapes inside the bag of goodies. “I don’t know what to say.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “You don’t have to say a word. This is Samuel’s and my way of thanking you for all your dedication and commitment to the business your husband so tirelessly started all those years ago. I mean, three generations? That’s amazing.”
Elma nods, her eyes sparkling with life and excitement. “Definitely. Ernest gave everything to his business.”
“And you too,” I add, like a cherry to an ice cream sundae.
I think Elma actually blushes. “Well, yes, I really have.”
“You know what, Elma? I think you should take the rest of the day off! I mean, you’ve earned it. When was the last time you took some me-time?”
She just blinks a few times. “Actually, I don’t know.”
“Exactly! I
insist, Elma! And I have the afternoon off, so I’ll make sure to run a tight ship in your absence.”
She places her hand on her heart and looks around uncertain. “Oh, well, I don’t know…”
“Actually, take tomorrow too! I don’t have anything scheduled and would be honored to help here in your absence.”
Elma looks at Samuel, as if seeking confirmation. He quickly steps forward and nods. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Elma. Freedom and I can manage the afternoon and tomorrow in your absence.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” she says, glancing down at the bag of goodies I brought. “It has been a long time since I took some me-time.”
“Exactly,” I reply, all bright and full of eagerness.
Before Elma knows what’s happening, I have her bags gathered and am practically pushing her to the door. Even though she seems a little shocked by the recent events, she goes willingly. Samuel follows, opening the front door and escorting the older woman to her car. When Elma is secured inside and pulling out of the lot, he returns to the entrance, where I’m standing.
Samuel shuts the door, places his hand around my elbow, and escorts me back to the front office. “I don’t even understand what just happened,” he says.
“Well, you said you thought she was worn out and possibly wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d help. Hopefully, she’ll take a break and come back next week feeling refreshed and energized.” I dig out the food from the basket and start placing it on the small table in the middle of the office.
He’s silent for what feels like minutes, so I look his way. What I wasn’t expecting was the smile on his lips. Shit, he’s so sexy when he smiles. “Thank you, Freedom. For everything.”
Shrugging, I reply, “It was nothing. Plus, it was lunchtime so I thought I’d bring you something to eat.”
He joins me at the table and shocks when he sees the spread. “Chicken? But you don’t eat meat.”
“I know. They had veggie kabobs, so I bought some of those for me. But I could eat my weight in mashed potatoes and gravy, so be ready to receive less than half of those,” I reply, scooping a little on his plate and a lot on mine.
“Take as much as you want, Freedom. I just can’t believe you bought chicken,” he replies, taking the seat across from me.
“Well, I know you like it, and even though I don’t eat it, doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed you’ve changed the way you’ve been eating on my behalf.”
Now it’s his turn to shrug and he grabs two pieces of chicken and piles it on top of the potatoes. “Believe it or not, I haven’t missed it much.”
“No?”
After taking his first bite, he wipes his mouth with the napkin and says, “Well, maybe a little. I do love fried chicken.” He gives me a sheepish grin before taking a second hearty bite.
He tells me a little bit about his morning as we eat lunch, as if sitting around and sharing a meal is the most natural thing in the world for us. When I’m finished eating, I start to gather the trash and put lids on the food containers, but Samuel stops me. “I can get the cleanup.”
His hand lingers on mine, a fresh wave of heat and longing sweeping through my body. “Thank you,” I whisper, just as the phone starts to ring.
Samuel smiles, and I feel it clear down to my fancy little panties.
“I guess, since I’m working here for the afternoon, I better get that,” I say, nodding toward the ringing phone.
“Yeah,” he says, his own voice sounding thick and raspy.
I head over to the desk and pull the phone from the cradle. “Hanson Funeral Home, how may I help you?”
And with a smile on my face, I get to work.
Working alongside Samuel.
Chapter Seventeen
Samuel
“You actually worked at the funeral home?” Harper gapes across Mom’s massive dining room table, her fork halted halfway to her mouth.
“Yep! It was pretty much awesomeness,” Freedom tells her best friend.
All eyes seem to bounce between Freedom and myself, making me a little hot under the collar. Reflexively, I adjust my necktie and glance down at my food. I hate being the center of attention, especially at a family dinner. Even as I toy with my mashed potatoes, I can feel their eyes on me.
“How did that go?” Marissa asks, seeming very curious by the conversation.
“It went great! I sent Mrs. Hanson home to rest and spent Thursday and all of Friday there. I even got to help set up and greet people for a visitation that night,” Freedom adds, her eyes sparkling like the chocolate diamonds they are.
“And you didn’t kill each other?” Harper asks, a wide smile on her face as she looks my way.
“We live together,” Freedom reminds my family.
“Temporarily,” I add, even though I’m not sure why. I mean, yes, it’s a temporary situation, but it’s more than that. I actually seem to enjoy having her in my space, despite the fact she repainted and redecorated the living space. But it’s the flash of hurt that fills her eyes that gives me pause and makes me feel total guilt.
“Anyway, Sammy was super helpful and showed me all that goes into preparing for a visitation,” she tells my family over sautéed vegetables and potatoes.
“She asked me if I have to shave their balls,” I mumble, recalling the completely inappropriate conversation after I had Mr. Marton prepped for his visitation.
Everyone laughs.
“Total legit question, right?” Freedom asks Harper, who nods her approval. “The answer is no, in case you’re wondering,” she adds, telling the rest of the table.
“I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing my big brother doesn’t have to shave their balls,” Harper bellows, giving me a wink.
“So how was the honeymoon?” Kathryn asks as dinner progresses.
“It was amazing,” Harper singsongs, giving her husband a knowing look I don’t want to dissect. “I’m ready to go back.”
The way Latham gazes at her lets us all know he’s more than willing for a repeat trip. He takes a sip of his beer. “Me too.”
“Did Kate tell you she was selected to show some of her art in town?” Jensen asks, proudly grinning at his fiancée.
“What? That’s exciting!” Marissa boasts, echoing what we’re all thinking.
“It’s just a small showing,” Kathryn replies with a blush, waving her hands.
“No such thing,” Jensen says, bringing her hand up to his mouth. The sparkler on her ring finger flashes as the lighting hits it. “They’re wrapping up a display from an artist from New York City, and they’re eager to show some of Kate’s stuff afterward.”
“Kathryn, we’re so proud of you,” Mom declares with tears in her eyes. Kathryn and her mom haven’t had the best relationship, and Kathryn has really become close to Mom since she returned to Rockland Falls.
Kathryn tries to brush off the praise. “Thanks.”
“Do we get to go to a show or something?” Rhenn asks.
“Yes, the gallery is hosting an opening night gala after the first of the year. You’re all invited,” Kathryn says.
“Really? Like dressed up in fancy clothes and drink champagne?” Freedom asks, seeming to perk up at the idea.
Kathryn nods. “As soon as I have the details, I’ll let you all know.”
Conversation fills the room as everyone shares what’s going on in their lives. I’ve been here before—many times, actually—sitting around the dinner table and surrounded by laughter, and for the first time, I feel a part of it all. The conversation, the arguments, the merriment. I’ve always felt like an outsider looking in at these things.
But something has changed.
Glancing to my side, I realize what.
It’s Freedom.
Having her beside me, hearing her laugh and carry on with my family, fills a void in my chest. That hollow feeling is replaced with something else.
Love.
I realize, in the midst of everything, I’m falling in love
with her. Hell, I probably have been for a while, just too stubborn and stupid to realize it. But we’re so different, you know? Oil and water, that’s us. Yet, here we are, coexisting at home and even working together the last two days. If I were being completely honest with myself, working beside her at the funeral home has been a bit unbelievable. She brings a sweet chaos to my calmness, and I didn’t realize I desperately wanted or needed it.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel alone.
Guilt sweeps in once more. The divorce papers were delivered yesterday. Fortunately, Freedom was arranging some of the flowers that had arrived an hour before. I was happy to let her have the moment, knowing I was going to rearrange them as soon as she was done. Then, the carrier walked through the door and had me sign. The moment he left, I shoved the large envelope into my shoulder bag, where they still are today.
“You okay?” The woman I can’t seem to stop thinking about is staring at me, concern written all over her beautiful face.
“Oh, yeah. Fine.” Clearing my throat, I glance around and realize everyone is moving. The ladies are headed to the living room, while the guys are collecting the dirty dishes. “I’m going to help,” I add, reaching for the stack of plates in her hand.
“The girls are going to overshare and have margaritas on the back deck. I’ll see you in a bit?” she says, leaning in but then stopping herself. It’s as if she realizes what she is doing, but stops before our lips actually meet.
I stand up tall and nod, quickly making my escape to the kitchen. Rhenn is rinsing the dirty dishes and handing them to Jensen, who places them in Mom’s industrial-sized dishwasher. Latham is over scooping the leftovers into bowls, so after I set the rest of the dirty dishes down on the counter, I head over to help him.
“You’ve been working and living with Free, and you’re both still alive?” Latham breaks the silence in the kitchen.
“Well,” I start, clearing my throat. My hand moves up to my tie, where I adjust the already pristine Windsor knot. “It wasn’t easy at first. She repainted my living room.”
Silence wraps around me as they all turn and gaze my way. “Seriously? Like a soft beige or, maybe, ivory?” Jensen asks.
