by MK Moore
I am freaking fogged up and in a daze that I barely register him kiss me once more on the head, pat my butt, and send me in the hospital. I am literally floating in air wrapped in a Sterling cocoon.
“Well, it’s about time you stop being such a goody goody.”
Burst. Pop.
Happy bubble burst and popped. I look at my mom and then everything that just happened comes flooding back to me. Shoot. What did I just do? And how do I get out of it?
ONE MOTHERFUCKING AMAZING KISS AND I am done. Finished. This girl is it and I love that she doesn’t seem to get that. I barely kissed her. Not a tenth of what I am going to do to her, and she came in my arms. She is either crazy sensitive or untouched. The jealous possessiveness that courses through my veins is a new one for me. Am I wrong to pray she will only be mine? Will I love her any less if she has been taken? Love? What the fuck is wrong with me? I haven’t been with many women, but a few minutes is enough to know she feels different to me. She feels like everything.
The first one was the girl I took to the prom. We had “dated” in high school for six months before prom. If I am honest, she was the one who pressured me and what was an eighteen year old going to do? The second was over eight years ago. It was a drunken one night stand and I didn’t even know her name. I should have waited like my brother Jace. We all give him shit for being a virgin, but now I actually envy him.
One look and I instantly felt connected to Kennedy and cannot wait to get back and claim her. She is so beautiful it has to be a sin, while there is just something about her. Her mother seems to be a train wreck. But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t tolerate when it comes to her. Kennedy being my wife is the only thing that feels logical to me even though I know how illogical it is. I am a firm believer in God setting things in my path for a reason. This is no different. She is meant to be mine.
As soon as I drop them off at the hospital, I head over to the Crawford Construction office. It is tucked away under the bank on Main Street. My brother Ham is in charge, but I handle the accounting and product ordering. My office looks like a man cave, which is what it is. Firing up my computer I get going on entering the checks we got in today. $10,000 isn’t bad for one week of work on two houses.
I keep glancing at my watch because I am impatient to get back to the hospital. My need for Kennedy is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. At twenty-five, I am ready to settle down and only she will do. The having never sewn any wild oats or anything like that is not a problem because I’ve never really felt the need.
Patience is not my strong suit. I do blow through ordering stainless steel appliances and cabinet finishing’s that our clients requested special. We offer a full service treatment and pride ourselves on our ability to adapt to our clients ever changing needs. I do not get my hands dirty anymore, unless it is an all hands on deck deal. Winter is our off season and by April we will start getting busy. I am much more content when I have something to do.
I pull back into the parking lot of the hospital and get out and head inside. Going straight to post op I see my girl crying. Not being sure what kind of tears these are, I do not hesitate to pull her from the hard plastic chair she is sitting in and into my arms. Seeing her mother on her phone pisses me off when I glance in her direction. My resolutions of claiming her became a thousand fold stronger. She needs to be cared for. Treasured. Protected.
“What happened baby?” I ask calmly. Her tears are killing me as I use my thumbs to wipe them away.
“Don’t call me that. These are angst tears. He had a hip replacement and didn’t tell me about it. He’s fine, just ornery as a wild mule.”
“That’s good to hear. The part about him being OK. Not the ornery part. Let’s get you home, baby. Are you hungry?” I say, babbling because she makes me fucking tongue tied.
“Stop calling me baby Sterling. I am not now, nor will I ever be your baby. However, no I am not hungry. Please just take me home.”
She sounds every bit as regal as her fancy names implies. On the outside she may look and sound fancy, but I feel in my heart she knows the value of hard work. Gathering her stuff and her mother has her in a tizzy all the way out to the vehicle and head back to Dale’s place. I park in the driveway and Jackie hops out. As Kennedy grabs the door handle, I touch her arm. She stops and turns to me.
“Baby.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Sterling. Please don’t make this harder for me.” That throws me.
“Make what harder? You are mine. Keep telling yourself anything you need to, but you will be mine. In every fucking way. Don’t doubt that or bet against it.”
She jerks her arm from my grasp and gets out of the truck. She stops before closing the door. “Thanks for the ride Sterling.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow baby.” I say with a wave.
She shakes her head. “No. You won’t,” and closes the door. I wait until she is inside before leaving.
We will see about that Kennedy Onassis Sherwood. It’s just a matter of time.
SHOOT. RESISTING HIM IS HARDER when he touches me all the time and says stuff, like I belong to him. I never intended for him to see me crying. Talk about mortification. I was caught in the heartbreak of knowing I can’t be with him, and thinking about my Gpa being in surgery I didn’t notice him walk up. When he pulled me into his arms, as good as it felt, I wanted to immediately flee and hide from him. How did I go from being turned on and pretty sure I was minutes away from falling for him, to knowing unequivocally this would never work?
His concern and consideration for me and my feelings are too much, because I haven’t had someone pay any positive attention to me since my father died. I need to put a stop to him calling me baby, even when he makes me want to bawl like one. It takes all I have to appear unaffected.
“Stop calling me baby, Sterling.” After telling him I am not hungry and just want to go home. I stop talking, because nothing else coming out of my mouth will make it easier for me to walk away from him. However, no matter what I say to him, he is relentless. He will not stop saying things like, I am his, calling me baby, and trying to get into my space.
When he finally drops me off, I take a chance that maybe if he knows how much it is hurting me, he will stop. “Please don’t make this harder for me.”
The look on his face makes my stomach hurt. It was as if I slapped him, and hurting him hurt me. Of course, he didn’t back off and secretly I am glad he didn’t. However, I know I am not going to hang around him anymore than I have to.
I am more than happy I got to see my gpa and make sure he was settled into his room and doing OK. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, completely drained, and didn’t have the energy to be anything but defeated. So when he said he would see me later, all I could muster was a “No. You won’t”. I ran in the house behind my mom, slammed the door, and slid to the floor while letting tears slide down my face. Why can’t I find happiness and someone to love me like that? Why is it far-fetched someone could find me worthy of being their one and only?
“It’s better you walk away doll. Men like him don’t marry girls like us honey. We get their sheets all messy and then escorted to the door. No one wants a wife from the trailer park with no education or family heritage they can turn into something. You should try using your name, Hun. It might get you kept for at least a year. Make that work.”
And there is my answer. I will always be ‘easy’ for a guy like Sterling. He can have any girl he wants and by the looks of his truck and the way people defer to him when he speaks, you can tell he is somebody in this town. A somebody needs a somebody. Me, I’m a nobody and I will not be one of those girls with her head in the clouds, looking for rainbows where only rain exists. Reality is better suited for me. With that resolved and tired as hell from the long day, I go upstairs to get ready for bed and pass out.
When I wake the next morning, I am anxious to see gpa. Because it is Sunday, visiting hours don’t start till noon and it is only 9am. After making
me and mom breakfast, I go about cleaning gpas house for when he is discharged. He will come home to a spotless place. Next, I am going to start making him meals that will keep until long after I am gone and he can eat without the hassle.
As I dust the living room, I run across pics of my Gma and feel the tears start again. She was a remarkable woman, who was warm and kind. I got hugs all the time when she saw me, and gifts for any occasion she could think of. She would tell me how beautiful I was going to be. How the man who catches me will be lucky to have a pretty, sweet, and smart woman at his side. I used to believe all of that. I use to picture the day I leave the TP and go to college to become something more than Jackie, the whores daughter. I thought the dream would actually come true, until the day my Gma died suddenly of a heart attack. All the dreams we use to share were buried with her.
I am working on three casseroles when the front door opens with a key. A little curious about whom the heck it could be, I walk to the front door and am greeted by jazziest old lady I have ever seen. “Hi.” Is all I can think to say because somehow this feels awkward?
“Hi yourself, young lady. Get over her and give me a hug. You’re even more beautiful than your pictures.” she says to me while hugging me like she has known me my whole life.
“Thank you. I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”
“Hmmm, I see he has kept more than just his health a secret. Men. They act like scared little babies when they got stuff to tell. My name is Greta and I am the one that called you.”
My shoulders relax because I remember talking to her thinking; she would be a great person to talk to if I ever get the chance.
“Oh my goodness. Greta. It is so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for calling me and letting me know. I could strangle him for not telling me the minute he injured himself. I would have been on the first bus out.”
“Well, you are just the sweetest thing. I see your making him some casseroles. Like minds young lady. It is precisely what I was coming over here to do.”
She looks around for a second. When she comes back to me, her eyes are smiling and her mouth is turned up in a devious smirk. “I see you have cleaned to. Well, aren’t you just the domesticated little thing. No man snatched you up yet?”
I barely register the sound of the door handle turning as soon as she asks the question. Wouldn’t it be perfect timing, because as soon as the question leaves her mouth, in walks the man I can’t seem to escape.
“Yes. A man has snatched her up. Greta.” Nodding to her. He stalks over to me and before I can back away, he pulls me by the waist with one hand, the other behind my head, and slams his mouth down on mine. This kiss is chaste compared to the one we shared, but it feels different and more definitive. I can’t stop myself from grabbing his shirt and pulling him into me, while I moan into his mouth and mewl a little when he pulls back from me.
He looks me in the eye and whispers so only I can hear, “Not when we have an audience baby. No one gets to see you in the throes of ecstasy but me. I don’t care who it is.” he kisses me on the forehead and turns to Greta and says “This is my fiancée Kennedy. Kennedy, meet your gpas lady, Greta.”
I barely register the word lady, before he throws in fiancée.. Oh boy. I get the feeling he is going to impossible to get rid of. I have to ask myself. Do I really want to?
I DON’T KNOW WHY I said she was my fiancée, except in that moment it is exactly what I want. Now, I need to make it a reality. She is so goddamn beautiful. My mouth waters and cock hardens every time I am near her.
“His lady?” Kennedy asks looking scandalized. “Like his girlfriend?”
“Oh dear. I am sorry he never told you. We have been seeing each other for about two years and we have both been lonely since my husband and your grandmother passed. You understand, don’t you?”
“Do you guys still do it?” Jackie chimes in from where she is laying on the couch. She pops up into a sitting position, like a jack in the box. I have to bite my hand to keep from laughing. Greta is going to get a kick out of Jackie. I, for one, can’t wait for the hilarity that will ensue. I am unable to put my finger on what annoys me most about Jackie and then I figure it out. Her indifference to my girl pisses me off.
“Listen here Miss Tang. That’s a rude question, but since you asked, hell yes we do. We are 65, not dead.” When she winks at Kennedy, I lose my shit and start laughing.
“Oh my God. Mama, don’t ask everyone you meet that question. Sterling, don’t encourage her crazy ass. Greta, I am so sorry. Can I get you guys some tea?” She says to Greta and I.
“Tea would be great.” I say to her.
“That would be just lovely Kennedy. Thank you dear. I take cream and sugar.” Greta says,
“I want nice aged bourbon on the rocks.” Jackie chimes in standing up. Her outfit is something straight out of the Dukes of Hazzard, with tiny shorts and a tank top. It is cold as hell outside and she is dressed like she is waiting for a day the beach. Very motherly, I think, mentally shaking my head. Her daughter puts her to shame and when we stare at her, she laughs. “Kidding. Geez. I know it’s only ten in the morning. Tea sounds good. Calming, ya know.” She shrugs and shakes hands with Greta before the two sit on the couch. Jackie unmutes Flip or Flop and the two settle in.
Kennedy rolls her eyes and goes to the kitchen in a huff. I wait a few seconds and then follow. When I enter she already has the kettle filled and on the stove.
“She irks me so much.” She says as she pulls cups down from the cabinet.
“Can I help?” I ask. Coming to stand on the opposite side of the center island.
“It’s tea, Silver. I think I can handle it. Actually, I can handle all sorts of things”. She smiles and busies herself dropping teabags into the mugs.
I arch my eyebrow and choose to skip over her innuendo. The thought of everything she has probably had to handle, has me seeing red. “Silver? Baby, are you nicknaming me?” I focus on the nickname, because any question I ask will kill me to know the answer.
“What? You can call me baby, but I cannot return the favor?” She says with a lot of sass I didn’t know she has. I like her sassy and feel this is a part of her no one sees. A part of her that is only for me. I am so gone for this girl and I don’t give a fuck. The more time I spend with her, the more I want to know every little thing about her.
“Oh baby, you can return the favor anytime you want.” I growl in her ear as I press my lips to her neck, after moving in behind her. Inhaling her sweet scent reminds me of wild flowers and something that is all her I cannot define. Sweet Jesus. Her ass is amazing. I know she can feel my cock pressed against the small of her back because she stiffens and side steps me, while she jabs her red painted index finger into my chest. I let out a small moan.
“Are you real?” She asks as she is jabbing me. “Sterling Crawford, I’ve told you several times in the last day I am not the girl for you. I am more than happy to be friends while I’m in Moosehead, but nothing more. You keep that…that monster away from me.” She gestures to my cock as the tea kettle whistles.
“Monster? Baby, you don’t know the half it.” I growl out. She is fucking delicious.
“Jesus Silver, be normal for five seconds please. I cannot handle this now.” She rubs her temples, then pulls the kettle off the stove and pours it into the waiting cups. She doctors each tea and places it back on the tray.
“Ok baby. What irks you the most about your mother?” I ask while crossing my arms over my chest to change the subject.
“I don’t know. Everything. Yes, everything. She is not normal and not like any other mother. I know I am being dramatic, but damn it, I need something to be about me.”
“Baby, I can and will make everything ‘about you’, if you would give me a chance.”
“Silver, please don’t push me on this and trust me when I say you don’t want me.”
“Trust me, when I say I there is absolutely nothing more I want than you. Not air, food, or water. O
nly you Kennedy Onassis Sherwood.”
“Fine, trust me when I say you shouldn’t want me.” She looks torn as she says this. Like she wants me but doesn’t want to want me. I can work with that.
“But I do Kennedy. Fuck this.” I say, as I stalk over and pull her into my arms. As her arms wrap around my neck, I slam my lips down onto hers. Her moan spurs me on, and Lord help me, I need this woman in my life and my bed.
It takes everything in me not to throw her over my shoulder and take her from her grandfather’s house to my cabin in the snowy woods. Where I can worship every inch of her body, instead of taking her right here on the kitchen floor. My need for her keeps growing with each passing second and fuck I don’t want it to ever stop.
WHY DOES HE HAVE TO kiss me? I was doing good at resisting him, then he had to go and be charming and concerned and just….him. I simply need a minute. Not only did I learn my gpa has a “lady” friend, but now Sterling is calling me his fiancée. What the heck? I need to find something to occupy my mind and keep my hands busy. If not, I will either break out in tears or throw something and run away.
His kisses are not only sexy, but a balm calming my soul. I don’t mean to kiss him back or moan as he fucks my mouth, but damn it I can’t help it. The kiss is more than a kiss, it’s an attack on all my senses. I feel him in my blood, smell him through my nose, and taste more than the peppermint flavor of his mouth. It tastes of his desperation and frustration as he battles his want for me. As he kisses me and grabs my ass to grind his growing erection against my stomach, I see stars and colors. I rub myself against him, racing towards my own orgasm. If he took me to my room right now and ripped all my clothes off, I wouldn’t stop him because I am so far gone into him I cannot fight it if I wanted to.
