The Palisade (Lavender Shores)

by Rosalind Abel

  He covered his mouth as he laughed, and I scooted away to give him room. He was laughing at me. Had to be. At my utter insanity. At this bizarre mess we found ourselves in.

  His green eyes glanced my way, and he choked out an apology before a new fit of laughter broke free.

  I tried to figure the easiest way out. The one with the least embarrassment and the least amount of hurt.

  Joel’s laughter died down but didn’t quite subside. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I tried really hard not to laugh, but that just made it worse.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” I’d leave, right then. “I’ll just let you—”

  “I was thinking about your dad and then remembered—” His words got swept away in another round of laughter.

  I froze, thinking I’d heard wrong. “You were thinking about my dad?”

  He laughed harder but managed to speak after a moment. “Yeah, sorry. I know that sounds gross, considering we’re both in bed naked, but your dad’s just so—” Giving up, he tossed back his head into the pillow and laughed loudly, causing the entire bed to shake.

  Despite myself, I couldn’t suppress my own laugh. Whatever he was thinking, it was contagious. And it wasn’t about what a fucking shit show the man he took to bed turned out to be.

  He sighed, laughter starting to die down, and wiped at the tears at the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” His ridiculously wide grin contradicted that claim.

  I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I couldn’t help it. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking about my dad?”

  “Oh, Andrew.” Still, the laughter continued, but soft enough he was able to talk through it. “He’s just so gay. So very, very gay.”

  At any other point, I would’ve been offended, but I was so relieved it wasn’t about me that I didn’t care.

  Joel kept going. “I was lying here, picturing him at dinner. The way he hugged me, all the talk about graffiti penises, and then I started thinking of my friend Paul in high school.” Another loud burst of laughter, and I waited, chuckling along because I couldn’t help myself. “His dad was a preacher, but he ordered all his underwear out of the International Male catalog. Paul’s chore was always laundry, so there he was, folding his dad’s thongs, mesh briefs, and assless—whatever you call them—with a black lace pouch in the front. He even kept a collection of the catalogs hidden in his underwear drawer.” He smiled over at me, tears streaming now. “I’m so sorry.”

  “My dad has lots of underwear from that catalog. A couple of their pirate shirts, too—the ones with the puff sleeves and crisscrossed ties over the deep V in the neck.”

  He pushed himself into a sitting position and shoved my shoulder. “Shut up. You’re lying.”

  I smiled and shook my head, happiness flooding through me that Joel wasn’t freaking out about me and marveled at how he looked more stunning than I’d seen him yet. His hair a mess, his defenses down, and laughing like a kid. “Well, you’ve met my dad. Do you really think I’m lying?”

  “Holy shit. That is good, good stuff.” Joel laughed again and gave a contented sigh. “At least your dad is up-front about it all. He’s just, like, this is me. I love my wife, and I love spray-painted penises and frilly underwear under my pirate shirts.”

  From anyone else, it would’ve sounded like an insult, but it was clear he didn’t mean it that way. And really, he wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, that’s my dad all right.”

  Still chuckling, he lay back down. “I love that guy.” He stretched out his arm and waited for me to nestle back in.

  This was really happening. I’d been a mess, and it wasn’t even an issue. I had freaked out, thinking he was ready to push me out of his room and bolt the door, and he was thinking about my dad and International Male catalogs. A blanket of happiness fell over me as Joel’s arm tightened around my shoulder and he used his other hand to caress my arm.

  He sighed. “You’re lucky he’s your dad.”

  I couldn’t miss the note of tension, so evident following his laughter. “Tell me about yours.”

  “My dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stiffened. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly happy moment.”

  I tried again, attempting a better topic and looking for a way to get to know this man I most definitely wasn’t completely head over heels for. “Well, you’ve met my crazy parents and our crazy friends. What about your mom? She got any strange qualities? Maybe a love of combat boots and NASCAR?”

  I knew instantly I’d made an error. All levity left Joel’s body, and the sadness was palpable. He let out a long sigh.

  “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about family.”

  He continued to run his hand over my arm, but it seemed more like an automatic action at this point, though still pleasant. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. I met yours. They were great. Weird but great.” He hesitated, and I kept still, figuring he’d continue when he was ready to find a way to change the subject.

  When Joel finally spoke, his voice was steady and quiet, and he sounded as if he was retelling plot points of a movie instead of aspects of his own life. “Mom left my dad when I was eleven. She wanted me to go with her, but I was always more my father’s, if that makes sense. I’m not sure he would’ve allowed me to live with her, even if I wanted to, but I didn’t, so it wasn’t a thing. I knew I was making her sad, but she was the one choosing to leave, after all. Not me.”

  He paused for a bit. I wasn’t sure what to say. Nor could I tell if he still felt that way or if I noticed the hint of regret. Instead of speaking, I traced my fingers over Joel’s arms, loving the feel of the fine hair against my fingertips.

  “Mom was gorgeous.” He gave a small laugh, a very different one than before. “Like she’d be any other way. Dad wouldn’t be with a woman who wasn’t physical perfection. She moved to New York, clear across the country. I stayed with her one summer but then refused to go back. She didn’t push too hard. We were crazy close when I was younger, but by then it was too late. Like I said, I was always more my father’s. There wasn’t a day that went by that summer where I didn’t hear ‘you’re just like your dad,’ with every move or comment I made.” Joel seemed lost to the memories, maybe not even aware he was still talking to me. “She was right, of course. I was. And the few areas I might have been like her, I did everything in my power to fix by emulating my father instead. Most of them, anyway.” He shook his head and went quiet.

  Several minutes passed until I decided he wasn’t going to speak any more. Maybe I should’ve left well enough alone, but despite his monotone delivery, the regret was obvious. I couldn’t imagine being cut off from my mother. Of course, in most ways, I was more like her than my dad, but still. “Are the two of you closer now that you’re an adult?”

  A longer pause this time. “She passed while I was in college. An accident on the subway.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Shit. What was I supposed to say to that?

  He patted my arm and didn’t reply.

  Wow, I really knew how to fuck up a romantic night. Twice. I searched for a different topic, for a long, long time then decided it was better to just keep my mouth shut.

  Joel’s hand continued to trace my arm until it was nearly numb from the contact. But I wasn’t moving to save my life.

  I’d nearly decided he’d fallen asleep when he shifted, and I turned so we were face-to-face. “So tomorrow, I was thinking we drive in to Olema to check out the compet—er… to get ideas for the shop I’ll open. Just see what’s there.”

  Okay, then, family conversation over. I studied him for a heartbeat before responding. He seemed to be himself again, which was quick. “Sure, whatever you want. That reminds me. I need to text Regina, let her know I’m taking those days off she offered. I bet the paperwork for Gilbert’s place will be ready by the time we’re back.”

  “Great.” An emotion I couldn’t name flickered over his features at the mention of Gilbert’s house, but Joel kept going. “And I was won
dering, when’s the last time you visited San Fran?”

  That sounded like the lead-up to an invitation. Maybe I hadn’t really fucked things up before. “It’s been a few years. I don’t get out of town too much.”

  He balked. “A few years? The city’s an hour away. If I was stuck in a small town, I’d be jetting out every weekend.”

  There it was. The kiss of death to every relationship I’d ever had. “I love it here. San Francisco is beautiful, but I’m happiest here. Always.”

  “Well, Lavender Shores is gorgeous, I suppose.” Joel almost sounded skeptical.

  “I know that makes me sound crazy. But on the bright side, I’m thirty-three right now, so it sounds less crazy to be content in a small town than when I was twenty-two. And someday I’ll be sixty, and it’ll sound perfectly normal.”

  “You’ve got a ways until sixty.” He laughed softly. “Though you’re a little older than I thought. At the beginning I figured you were around twenty-five when I noticed you at the table.”

  “At the beginning?” I teased. “You make it sound so long ago. You mean last night?”

  His eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re right. I keep forgetting that. It feels so much longer.” He rushed ahead. “In a good way.”

  “I know what you mean. That same thing keeps happening to me.” It felt like I’d wanted him forever. But that wasn’t reality; he hadn’t even known my age. “Sorry to disappoint you that I’m not as young as you’d hoped.”

  “Hell no. That was actually a drawback. I don’t need to be playing around with a kid.” For the first time in a while, he offered the smile with all the promises of heat and sin.

  Right. Playing around. That’s what we were doing. I’d forgotten that. Hurt cut through me.

  For once, I must have managed a poker face, as the wicked factor in Joel’s expression increased. He slipped his hand under the sheets and wrapped his fingers around my dick. “Speaking of which, I’m fairly certain I promised you a ride earlier.”

  I began to harden instantly at his touch. As he stroked me, he leaned closer. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead, he lowered his head and flicked my nipple with his tongue. My body responded, heat rushing through my veins and burning away the melancholy his words had brought. It didn’t matter if all we were doing was playing around. If that was all I could have, then I’d take it.

  His lick turned to a quick bite, and I sucked in a breath. Reaching between us, I gripped his cock, which was already as hard as mine, straining and leaking precome.

  “Oh fuck yes, Andrew. Get me ready. Get that dick as hard as you want it before you ride.”

  I pushed everything aside, including him, shoving his shoulder so he lay flat against the mattress. Tossing away the sheets, I got to my knees and took his cock into my mouth. At his groan, I swallowed him to his base, feeling his thickness stretch my throat to an uncomfortable level.

  “That’s it, Andrew. Fuck yes.” His hand found the back of my thigh and he pulled, urging me to move toward him. Keeping up the motion I was building on his dick, I shifted so my body was parallel to his. There was a click of the bottle, then a cold slickness as he ran lubed fingers over my ass. “You have the most delicious ass. Round and firm, covered in fur. And that sweet pucker.” At that word, he breeched me, shoving his thumb all the way in without any other preparation.

  I called out a strangled cry around his cock and instinctively pushed back, trying to get him deeper.

  He chuckled darkly, his voice rough. “And I love how you want it. How your ass begs for it.” He pulled his thumb free, and I let out a frustrated pant as I continued his blowjob. He laughed again. “Yep. Exactly. That hungry hole belongs to me.” Fingers replaced his thumb, shoving in deeper, stretching me so I held still, his dick halfway down my throat, allowing me to breathe and adjust to however many fingers he’d thrust in. “Don’t stop, Andrew. Ride my fingers while you blow me.”

  I gave in. I quit worrying about how desperate for him I looked. Ignored the implications of him claiming my “hungry hole.” They were just words. Words that made me want to be thoroughly used by him. So I gave in, devouring his dick and pushing back on his hand so each thrust took him in deeper.

  After a few moments, tangy precome coated my throat and tongue, and Joel’s dick began to quiver. I lifted off him, and pulled free from his fingers, the sudden absence of him in me making me move with near frenzied urgency as I whirled around.

  “You ready to ride?”

  I met his gaze, green eyes dark with lust. I didn’t answer, just reached for a new condom, ripped it open, and rolled it over his straining erection.

  “Fuck, yes, Andrew.” He squeezed more lube on his hand and coated it over his dick as soon as I got the condom rolled down. “Ride me. Fucking use my cock.”

  I straddled him, reached between my legs, and lined him up, then plunged down, taking all of him at once.

  We both cried out. Joel pushed up into me as I arched my back, curving so he collided with my prostate.

  “Hell, yes, man. Use it. Use it.” Joel slapped my stomach, his hand making a loud smack against my taut muscles.

  I arched back down, pushing my fists against his chest for leverage, and I began to ride, rocking my hips so his length nearly slid out of me before shoving him in deep once more. “God, your cock, Joel. Fuck. Your cock is so… so…” I couldn’t finish the thought. Who knew what it was, besides the best damn thing I’d ever had inside me.

  “Stroke yourself. Now. I want you to come. Spray over me as I fill you.”

  Lifting back up to a fully upright position, I continued my feverish pace on his dick and wrapped my slick fingers around my own. I couldn’t stop watching him as he writhed beneath me. His beautiful face scrunched up in an animalistic grimace. His smooth muscles flexing with every motion, glistening with sweat. His typically controlled and measured demeanor shattered to grunts, growls, and curses. He was undone beneath me, as much as I was with him inside me. The pounding of his cock on my prostate already had me close, and I hissed after only a couple strokes. “I’m gonna come, Joel. I’m gonna come.”

  He began rocking his hips in time with mine, somehow forcing himself even deeper, making me stretch in exquisite pain. “That’s it, stud, come for me.”

  My orgasm broke through, forcing out a strangled scream as jets of come arched between us and covered Joel’s body.

  “Yes! Fuck yes.” Joel gripped both of my hips as he fully turned loose and fucked me, pounding upward, the sound of his skin slapping against mine filling the room. “Fuuuuuck!” His gaze captured mine as his upper lip curled in a snarl as he came, his cock pulsing in my tender ass. He kept thrusting, until his fingers gradually lessened their hold, and he slowly lowered us back onto mattress.

  Once again, I steadied myself by pressing my hand over his chest, my legs trembling and refusing to support my weight. “Fuck.”

  “You’re telling me.” His lips curved into a heated half smile as he tried to catch his breath. “Dude, now that’s how to fuck.” He smacked my stomach again. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking good at that. And fucking hot.” He moved his hand gently over my stomach, then pulled lightly at the chest hair, causing me to hiss again. “I mean, seriously, Andrew, you’re fucking sexy as fucking hell.”

  I reveled in his words, that someone like him would feel that way, but couldn’t help a chuckle. “You say fuck a lot when you’re turned on.”

  He lowered his hand and gave a halfhearted shrug. “Well, we’re fucking. So yeah. And I can’t think of a better way to describe you than fucking sexy as fucking hell.” He swiped over his chest. “You’ve got me covered. Again. Even more this time.”

  “Sorry.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Shut up. Never apologize for that. You can do that to me as often as you want.”

  If only that was true.

  Shit, none of that. No more thoughts like that.

  “Give me a second to get my legs working, and I�
��ll get off you and get a towel.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m miserable with my dick still in your ass. Please, for the love of God, hurry. I can’t take another minute of this torture.”

  I smacked his stomach that time. He laughed.

  As tempted as I was to see how long I could keep him inside me, I managed to lift off him while securing the condom, then slid it off his dick as I swung my leg around to get off the bed.

  Joel glanced down at his bare fading erection and then up at me. “Well, damn, dude, you’ve had some practice at that. That was a smooth dismount. Trying out for the Olympics?”

  “Shut up.” I started to laugh and then realized the implication. “Maybe I’ve had too much practice, huh?”

  His brows furrowed in confusion for a second, and then he smiled and shook his head. “Oh hell no. Thank you for every second of practice you’ve had. Shit, if you’ll give me a list of the guys who got you ready to do that, I’ll send them each a thank you card.”

  I eased at his tone, thankful that wasn’t going to be a thing. “Be right back.”

  Less than two minutes later, we were both clean, at least clean enough, and I hesitated again, unsure whether he still felt like having me spend the night.

  He patted the bed then reached toward the light on the bedside table. “Get in.”

  Relieved, I crawled in beside him, and he once more slipped his arm around me, pulling me to his chest. He twisted slightly and kissed the top of my head. “Night, hot man.”

  No, I wasn’t relieved. At least not only relieved. I was happy. And as long as I focused only on that moment, content as well. “Goodnight, Joel.”

  He kissed my head again before sinking back into the pillow and pulling me just a bit closer.

  “Wow, this town is pretty too.” Joel nodded and observed Olema with his hands on his hips.

  I shut the truck door and walked around to join him on the sidewalk. “Not as pretty as Lavender Shores.”

  “Well, no, but still.” He reached for my hand and then slid his fingers between mine.