Man of the House

by Abigail Graham

  She nods. “Okay.”

  “Get some sleep. Sleep will heal you up so you can walk again.”

  I kiss her lightly on the forehead and turn off her light. It’s early, but she’ll be out like a light. After that stew, I don’t know how anyone could stay awake.

  Alexander is still on my couch. I sit beside him. He looks at me and his arm shifts on the back of the couch. His fingers brush my shoulder. My heart starts to speed up.

  It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. The anticipation, the quiver in my stomach, the light feeling in my limbs. The sense of him next to me in all his hugeness.

  I’m trying to watch television. Why am I not throwing him out of my house? I can’t stop thinking about how big he is, about the body under that T-shirt. When I glance at him, I can see the outline of his muscles. The soft worn fabric clings to his chest as he breathes, bunches up around his arms and under his huge shoulders.

  Then I realize he’s looking at me the same way. I shiver, like I’m just waking up and I stepped into cold water. He’s trying to look like he’s watching TV, but his eyes are all over my body. All at once, I become conscious of the way my shirt is pulled tightly across my chest, and the shorts I chose for lounging around leave my legs bare.

  Oh my God, I’m full on staring at him now. I keep looking down, my eyes sliding down his hard flat stomach to the bulge between his legs. His hand slides down between my back and the couch, and his palm settles on my hip.

  Alexander pulls me close against his body, and leans over. He’s so much bigger than I am that I look up at him seated next to me on the couch. I crane my neck back as his face fills my vision and his breath tickles my lips.

  He kisses me. Softly, tenderly, too gently for a giant, like he’s afraid to press too hard.

  I press into him hungrily, tasting him. His eyes shoot open when I suck on his tongue. Alexander locks his arms around me, lifts me bodily from my seat on the couch, and drops me on his lap. His huge arms wrap around me, binding me to his chest. I twist and shift until I’m straddling him, heat throbbing between my legs as I grind on his stomach.

  His big hand cups the back of my head and holds me still, and he kisses me harder this time. Heat floods my flesh, dances a fluttering beat in my chest, throbs in my loins.

  I push down, pressing my ass between his thighs, and I feel him hardening. His cock is already huge to begin with and gets bigger with every beat of his heart, stiffening with every throb until it’s so hard, it feels like he could just thrust right through our clothes into my body.

  His mouth is hot on my throat, his hands rough and warm on my skin. One skims up under my top, the other into my shorts, gliding over my ass. He growls when he squeezes my rump, like an animal in heat. Alex’s stomach tenses and I feel little involuntary thrusts shaking his body, grinding his cock against me.

  I want it. I want him. I want to get fucked. Hard.

  He turns and drops me on the couch and when he pins me down, a wild thrill runs through my body. I squirm but he wraps his arms around me and kisses me, lying on top of me with one foot on the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist and squeeze, pulling him into my body. If we didn’t have clothes in the way, he’d be inside me. His thumb flicks my nipple and I cry out into his mouth. He swallows the sound.

  I shove my hand down his sweats and grab his cock. God, it’s huge. The thought of taking him almost scares me, but I’m so excited, I can’t help it. I stroke him, fingering the waistband of my shorts as if I’m going to pull them down. No, I’m almost pulling them down.

  Then he jerks my hand away from him and pins them both to my sides. He lets go and yanks my shorts down. My bare ass presses into the couch, and my heart wants to explode out of my chest with every beat.

  He’s going to do it, he’s going to fuck me now, do it, do it…

  Alexander shoves my top up, baring my breasts. I arch my back as he takes my nipple into his mouth. I roll and pop my hips, silently begging him to take me, fill me, tame me.

  “Please,” I beg him.

  He rises, and I feel his stomach slide against mine. He’s so big.

  “I have to tell you something,” he whispers in my ear. “It might scare you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “If you fuck me, you give up control. You don’t tell me what to do. I decide when you get my cock. I decide when you come. You’re mine or you get nothing.”

  I swallow hard. I should be angry. I shouldn’t want some man commanding me, ordering me around, treating me like I’m begging for a cookie, but… fucking hell, that turns me on.

  “I’m the boss. You just let go. I’ve got you.”

  I’ve got you.

  I press my lips shut, and he sucks my nipple, hard. I groan and buck under him, my hands running up his sides. I try to grab his cock again but he takes my wrists and pins them down as he works down my stomach, leaving a hot trail of kisses across my flesh until I feel like I’m boiling from the inside out.

  His lips brush my mound and I make a hungry, almost animal sound of desire. Yes. Please. Please.

  He sits up suddenly and I start to talk, but he presses his finger to my lip to silence me. The look on his face when I suck on the tip sends a thrill up my spine. He could smash the couch fucking me and I’d love every minute of it.

  Alexander slips his hands under my armpits, lifts me bodily from the couch, and slides me up so my head falls on the arm. He grabs one leg and throws it over his shoulder, and the other falls off the edge. His hands cup my ass, and he dives down and drags his tongue over my pussy.

  I arch back and clench my teeth to hold in the sound. I can’t be too loud. I can’t make any noise at all. His mouth is so hot and I am so wet. He teases my entrance with his tongue and kisses my lips, licks my thighs and squeezes my ass in his hands.

  My eyes flick open as his finger sinks into my body. I melt into the couch, all the strength flowing out of my muscles as he gently pumps his finger inside me and works my clit with his tongue in slow, undulating motions, the pressure and heat building my excitement with every stroke.

  Oh God. I test him by touching his head, and when he licks me harder I knot my fingers in his hair. He pumps faster with his finger, his tongue moving harder, faster, his eyes locked on me. With a squirm and a pant and a gasp, moans catch in my throat as I fight to stay quiet.

  My eyes shoot open as the pleasure builds. I feel it coming, like it hasn’t in a long, long time. It’s going to be a big one. I clap my hands over my mouth, knowing it’s the only way I will hold it in.

  It’s still hard to stifle the cry. It’s like an explosion, a sudden burst of heat and cool blasting through my body in waves. I grip his head with my thighs and quiver and struggle with myself. Shocks flicker down my legs and rise through my body. I feel like I’m drifting, being carried away by an all-powerful current.

  Alexander rises from between my legs and I see his cock hard in his pants and I want him so badly, I want to come and come and come until I can’t breathe. Take me, fill me. Please.

  I offer myself to him in silence but he doesn’t take me. He pulls my shorts up to my waist and tucks my top back down, and pulls me up from the couch. I fall against him and he kisses me, hard, his hands roaming over my body. I’m so sensitive, his touch is almost painful, but it only grows the lust flaring in my chest.

  I grasp at him but again he takes my wrists and stops me. His hands are so huge and powerful, but his touch is delicate, especially when he caresses my palms with his thumbs.

  “You want more?”

  I nod, vigorously.

  “Let me take you out.”

  I tug at my hands, trying to free them. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  “You can. I know you want to. I think you’d do just about anything I asked right now.”

  God, I would. Any disgusting thing, I’d do it. Anything he wants, he could just use me that way. I give him a pleading look, be
gging him to finish what he started. I need more.

  “Go out with me. Dinner. Just you and me.”

  I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, it’s a terrible idea, but I have a history of terrible ideas, don’t I?

  No, he’s not like that, is he?

  I stare at this man and try to decide whether he’s good, or just a good lay. Whether he’s playing me or he’s genuine.

  He answers the question for me by brushing my cheek with the tips of his fingers, so gently. He takes me by the arm and the back of my neck and kisses me, firmly but gently this time, denying my attempts to deepen the kiss and draw him back down to the couch to take him inside me. I know how badly he wants it. I can feel the strain in his cock when I caress it through his pants.

  “Make arrangements for a sitter. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock. I mean it.”

  I bite my lip. Then I nod. “Okay.”

  He kisses my forehead and then leaves my home, pulling my door shut behind him. I lean forward on it, my nose against the wood, trying to will my heart to slow down.

  The woman in the mirror hanging by the door is sweaty and disheveled, her clothes askew and her face flushed. I can’t let Carrie see me like this. On aching, trembling legs, I trudge upstairs, turn on the water, and get in a shower so hot I can barely stand it, but that only makes it worse, so I turn the water cold until my teeth chatter.

  Returning to my bedroom feels like a dream. I wrap up in towels and lie on my bed until I finally catch my breath, then pull on some pajamas and slip over to check on Carrie. She’s fast asleep, a book propped on her chest.

  I smile to myself and lean against the door, watching her sleep. I still have to check, almost every night, to make sure she’s still breathing.

  When I’m satisfied, I return to my bedroom.

  Unsatisfied.

  I walk to my window and look, hoping to see him again, but his room is dark. He must be asleep. I wonder if he’s touching himself and thinking about me. I want him so much, it hurts, an ache in my bones. How will I even make it until Friday?

  Sleep is a dream that never comes. I roll around in bed for a few hours and end up staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t go anywhere near him, and finding an excuse to ignore them all. It’s Carrie’s alarm clock that wakes me.

  “I’ll get you breakfast,” I tell her.

  “I want to go downstairs.”

  “Okay, let’s see how you do.”

  I support her as she hobbles down on one foot, leaning on me. She drops into a chair at the dining room table and yawns as I start rummaging for something to make her.

  The knock comes at the door, and I let Alexander in. He gives me a look that makes me feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor, then walks past me with a big grin on his face.

  “Hey, you,” he says.

  “Hi,” Carrie says.

  “Who wants pancakes?”

  “I do!” Carrie chirps, “Me! Me!”

  He glances at me, eyebrow arched. “Want some?”

  “Yeah, sure, why not.”

  I try to help but he shoos me away. I sit with Carrie and wait for him to finish. He brings us both tall stacks of pancakes and bacon drizzled with maple syrup.

  I could get used to this. He’s a good cook. Carrie wolfs hers down hungrily and takes a second stack with joy.

  “I have to go,” I announce, sighing.

  “We’ll see you when you get back,” Alexander says.

  Carrie gives me a thumbs up. Her mouth is too stuffed full of pancakes to articulate her agreement.

  I change into uniform and head out to the Tahoe to report in and start my shift. As I back out, I notice an unusual car.

  It’s that same orange Volkswagen I saw yesterday. It’s not exactly subtle. The driver starts up the car, swings it around in a J-turn, and drives up the block.

  I frown and follow, wondering if it’s worth flipping on the lights. I can’t just pull her over for sitting on the side of the road, but I can follow her. I grab my radio mic and thumb the button.

  “Dispatch, this is Maguire. I’m following a suspicious vehicle. Might be in a little late for my shift.”

  The radio crackles and Bill comes back.

  “Take your time, sugar buns. We’re covered.”

  I almost smash the mic back into its cradle and grit my teeth.

  The Volkswagen, which I have now identified as a Rabbit, keeps under all speed limits and obeys all posted traffic controls and signs, so I can’t tag her for that either.

  She leads me on a very slow speed and very merry chase, looping around the same streets about five times.

  I flip on the lights and beep my siren. She quickly and obediently pulls to the side of the road. I step out, put on my hat, and walk up to her passenger’s side window.

  She sits there staring at me like a deer in the headlights through the glass.

  I make a roll-down motion with my fist.

  “I can’t,” she yells through the glass. “It’s stuck.”

  I frown. I give her a wide berth as I walk behind the car, closer to the Tahoe than to her bumper. Approaching her driver’s side door with slow, even steps, I don’t rest my hand on my sidearm but I keep my arm limber, ready to pull if I need to.

  Something smells really wrong here.

  “License and registration.”

  She fishes them out of her glove box and I take the opportunity to sniff her car. I hope to find a really obnoxious weed smell so I can run her in, but it just smells like the old Burger King wrappers in the passenger’s side footwell, and body odor. She turns and sticks an envelope and her license out at me.

  “Stay here,” I warn her.

  I walk her papers back and hop in the Tahoe to run it all. Her name is Sarah Andrea Talbot, and she’s from Ohio. No record, no priors, nothing in the system. I sit for a while longer and type nonsense into Notepad to make it look like I’m doing something more involved before I walk back her stuff.

  “Ma’am,” I ask her, without returning her paperwork. “Why were you sitting on the side of the road last night and this morning?”

  “I was lost. I’m looking for someone.”

  I give my hat a polite tug on the brim. “Well, I was born and bred in this town. If you need directions, I’m happy to help. Where can I direct you?”

  “Oh. Um. Well, I’m looking for a person, not a place.”

  “What’s their address?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you give me a name.”

  The way she hesitates says yes, but I don’t want to.

  I hate to do this. It offends me to my core, but sometimes it’s necessary.

  I lie.

  “We’ve had a complaint,” I say, trying to sound amiable. “One of the neighbors called in about your car, said you were acting suspicious. If the person you’re looking for isn’t on that street, I’m asking you to look elsewhere.”

  “Oh-oh, okay,” she chirps. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not at the moment. Here,” I hand her license and ratty registration card back. “You’re free to go. On your way.”

  “Thank you, Officer.”

  She rolls her window up, and waits for me to get back to the Tahoe. I sit there in a low-intensity standoff with her until she decides to leave.

  “What the hell?” I mutter to myself.

  Chapter Seven

  Alex

  Tonight’s the night.

  This morning, I watched Phoebe lead Carrie, who is now moving about on crutches with the rapid familiarity of a kid who’s been down that road before, to her cop car and drive off with her. No need for me over there today.

  So I have all day to plan, and that’s what I’ve been doing, scouring Yelp for local places to take her. I could just ask, but that’s really not my style. She’d pick something dressed down, I’m sure. I want something with a little more style.

  Wesley House. This looks good. Nice place for dinner for a coup
le. Quiet booths look cozy. That’s it. I dial the number.

  A hostess answers.

  “I’d like to make a reservation for two for tonight. Seven thirty.”

  “Yes, sir, we have a few spots open. Table or booth?”

  “Booth.”

  “Name?”

  “Alexander Wright.”

  There’s a pause on the other end.

  “Oh my God, are you him?”

  I sigh. “Yes.”

  “Oh my God, who are you bringing? Are you going on a date?”

  “Listen, keep this quiet, okay? I don’t want anybody to know I’m coming and I want some privacy. There will be a little extra in it for you.”

  “Oh, okay!” she squeaks. “See you tonight!”

  I can hear her saying ‘oh my God’ to someone else before she even hangs up. Yeah, that went well.

  Clothes. I don’t have anything to wear when taking out a woman, at least, nothing proper. Fat chance I’m going to get something off the rack.

  I dial Lou. He answers in three rings.

  “There’s the big man. How are you holding up out there?”

  “I need a suit.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Taking someone out.”

  “What? Like, on a date?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Whoa. Hold on there, champ. With whom?”

  What business is it of his? “My neighbor.”

  Silence hisses on the other end, then I hear him clear his throat. “What? Which one?”

  “The female one.”

  He snorts. “Very funny, big guy. You’re scaring me, here. This is a joke, right?”

  “No. I need some clothes that fit. I’m taking her to a nice place.”

  “I want to clarify something here since you seem to be dancing around it, my friend. You’re taking the cop that busted your ass and got you sentenced to coaching peewee football on a date.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “No. I like her.”

  “You like her? She ruined your fucking career, Alex. I’m starting to think the best I can do is save you from a breach of contract suit.”

  “Then do that. I’ve got a lot of money. I’m not worried about it.”