by Leanne Davis
“Great,” she mumbled to the linoleum.
Conversation resumed between her parents and kids, but Tracy stood there. Doing nothing. She folded her arms over her chest and then dropped her hands at her sides in tight fists. Her mother chatted on about seeing a small shipwreck she heard was down the beach a short distance. She prated that it was visible at low tide while making sandwiches and packing up snacks. Donny was quiet and his voice didn’t enter any conversation. Tracy stole a glance his way and found him glaring down at his half-eaten toast. He pushed it away and turned towards Julia when she started fussing and reaching for him.
Finally, the family started to disperse. Tracy volunteered to do the dishes just to have something constructive to distract her. She hoped not to accidentally meet Donny’s gaze, or, God forbid, get close to him.
Not while her entire body was still humming like a bee after what he’d done to her.
Just sex. It was just sex. Nothing. It should have been ignored and forgotten, soon to be buried like the bad secret it was.
She attacked the dishes with a vigor that exceeded their importance. After filling the sink full of suds, she plunged into it with both hands and scrubbed everything well past clean. Glaring at her hands, which were furiously working, she thought again, how could she freaking do that? The kids passed through the kitchen, arguing over who would ride in the third row seat. Then her mother and father went past, her mom carrying Julia in her arms, and her father grabbing miscellaneous items that still needed to be loaded.
“We’ll start getting everyone in the car.”
“Sure,” Tracy mumbled, her head still down. Then silence filled the house. Except… where was Donny? She stood on her tiptoes to scan the outside drive. They were on a hill so maybe he went down the other side of it.
She shrieked when two hands grasped her waist and Donny’s big body blocked her against the counter. She could feel him warming her backside, as hot as an iron. His hands squeezed her waist and pulled her closer to him. He leaned down so his lips were at her ear. Her hands were wet and soapy so she couldn’t really do anything to stop him, but she didn’t move. She froze as solid as if she’d been in the freezer.
“How long before you’ll dare to look at me again?” His lips were right next to her ear, And his breath felt warm on her skin. Even his voice was whiskey—smooth.
She wiggled her butt finally, trying to dispel him. “Get off me. Anyone could catch us.”
“Everyone is in my range of view and about to leave, so no, they won’t.”
“Please, you know this is…”
“Did you actually think this would somehow change things?”
She frowned and glanced down when he tugged on her shirt. “What?”
“The t-shirt. Telling me you are a mother, and therefore, you don’t have sex. Isn’t that what this is for? To remind me, but really, it is more for you, that we are not an item or a couple. We couldn’t really have had sex, not when you’re a mother.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Tracy lifted her hands to the sides of the sink, wet and all, to lean on them. “I am a mother. And you’re a father.”
“Pretty sure sex led to both of us getting those roles.” He was laughing at her. She could hear it in his voice.
“But not with each other.”
“I think we’re past that issue. It’s done. We’ve had sex. Hot, exciting, sex that you can’t wash away, no matter how prim and prissy you try to be about it. And besides, that t-shirt? It does nice things for your breasts.”
He pushed his hands up to cover them and she stood up straighter at the contact. He swiped both thumbs over her and both of her nipples pebbled into hard, almost painful knobs. She was damp that quick. He did it again and she leaned back into him. She hated her weakness. For falling against him, and not pulling away from him. And for wiggling automatically against the heat that was now growing as she moved over it. A soft moan escaped her lips. He ground into her, hard. His hand moved down to her stomach where he pushed her harder against him. He dropped his other hand into the front of her shorts, her way-too-large shorts, intended to repel him and keep him away. And to keep him thinking how motherly she looked. They were not supposed to provide easy access for him, or allow him to do this.
“God, Tracy, you’re as wet as this sink.” He nearly groaned as his hand cupped her over her underwear and she strained towards him, seeking more pressure. Her head flipped back onto his shoulder and he slipped his finger beneath her underwear as she opened her legs wider. She was aware of the shouts outside. Of kids’ voices and the murmur of adults. She was aware enough to judge that moment, and there was no one around who could see them. At long last, she heard the crunch of gravel as the car tires pulled away.
They were free finally. No one else was there. It was the only permission she needed.
He stepped back and pulled her with him, his hand still underneath her panties. She barely registered the movement until they were inside the small bathroom downstairs. He used his back to shut the door and slid his hand up under her shirt, moving her bra out of the way before pulling her breast out. His finger softly played with the engorged, hard, sensitive nub that seemed like a direct live wire into Tracy. When he touched the sensitive nerves, she went wild. She panted and bit her lip to keep the deep, satisfying groans inside. He turned her around as his hands came out of all the lovely places they were playing and stared into her eyes for a long, pronounced second.
“Tell me first you want to do this. I don’t need another round of you pretending I don’t exist. Or that I somehow stole your virginity without your permission. For God’s sake, you can’t make me feel guilty for doing something you asked of me.”
She nodded, nearly frantic for him to touch her again. She would have agreed to anything he asked. She didn’t care.
“Tracy? Are you listening?”
“I’m listening,” she mumbled, without really hearing him. She slid her hands down his pants, completely distracted by the bulge that continued to grow there. His heat was scalding to her touch, despite the thick material of his jeans. She undid his button and wrapped her hand around the heat source. He swore, although the point he intended to make seemed lost. She used both her hands to cup the heat and steel, cocooning in his pants for her. She finally released him like a hot, pulsating vibrator. Her body trembled in anticipation when she stared at the thick, hard shaft she held in her hands. She squeezed her legs together, trying to stop the unrelenting, almost painful ache.
“Trac—”
Without another thought or concern, she simply dropped to her knees and put him in her mouth. He fell against the bathroom door with a thump and again swore at her. He spread his legs wider to hold himself up as she took him into her mouth as deeply as she could. She held him still while pulling and sucking on him. His groan of appreciation was nothing short of epic, and his hand tightened in her hair as he wrapped the ponytail around his fist. He pushed her head onto him, saying, “You are nothing like you try to pretend. Holy shit,” he mumbled as her head started moving in a regular rhythm, and her mouth slid up and down him.
“Get up,” he commanded. He was so close, she could feel it. Reluctantly, she let him pop from her lips and glanced up at him. His face was dark with desire and heat. He was as turned on as she was. A bolt of excitement rippled through her body, right down to her toes and fingers.
Even though it was so, so bad.
He leaned down, and dragged her up before his lips touched hers. His tongue came into her mouth as he licked and sucked, while she groaned with more pleasure. Her entire body transmitted her need, which was so deep, it was almost painful. An aching reservoir that she needed filled now. He pulled her shorts and underwear off, and turned her so her back was against the door. Holding her gaze, he pushed inside her and her back heaved against the door. She righted herself by holding onto his neck. Closing her eyes in pure ecstasy, his body hammered into hers like a machine. Hard and smooth and deep. His hips bucked aga
inst hers and her entire body was pressed against the wooden door. She grasped him as tightly as she could just to stay upright.
His hand again tangled with her hair as he pulled her head back and his lips trailed over her throat in a wet path. He kept her head pulled back. He liked her hair. He liked touching it and wrapping it around his hands. He liked the control it gave him to her flesh. Her heart skipped a beat when his mouth sucked on hers. There was so much she wanted to do. So many different ways. They needed hours… days… years. She whimpered softly at the pangs of desire. For this. Now. For them. Forever? Maybe. Maybe that’s what she wanted when she felt his hands on her, filling her up in the most complete way another person could.
Finally, he lifted her up and again, nearly impaled her on him. He abraded her vaginal walls with enough pressure and heat to send her spiraling into an orgasm. She kept pulsating and tightening around him for many long moments. He finally uttered a deep, guttural cry from his throat and pinned her to the door, nearly spearing her with his deep, penetrating thrust.
He dropped his face to the nook in her shoulder. She could feel his chest going up and down as if he just finished running a marathon. His arms were still around her and his caress in her hair went from controlling and harsh to soft and gentle. He ran the long strands through his fingertips. Her heart simply rose up into her tonsils when he cupped her face in his big hands and tilted his head down to kiss her lips in a soft, long, lingering kiss. Soft, gentle, beautiful and so the opposite of the last few minutes. From heat to tenderness. From knock-your-teeth-out-rough sex to the gentle, caring, soft, tender persuasion.
He trailed kisses down the side of her face and on her hairline, burying his face into her long, red hair. Hair she always hated. It made her self-conscious. She often wished for long, platinum hair, although she never wanted it enough to bleach hers that shade. But the way Donny tangled his hands in it, and caressed it as though it represented the most treasured object of his life, suddenly made her grateful for it.
His lips were hovering, once again, above her ear. “I love you,” he whispered. She was leaning into the door, barely able to stand from the mind-blowing orgy of feelings he just educed from her. It was almost like a tidal wave, or a tsunami, of emotions and needs while also possessing a kind of reverence. Like in the way his fingertips glided over her skin and hair as he covered her in small, soft, nonsexual kisses. Kisses that spoke of caring, love, friendship and desire. She closed her eyes at hearing his words and her hands went limp around his neck.
She started to cry. She didn’t want him to say that. She also didn’t want him not to say it. He pulled her completely into his arms and pushed her face into the crook of his neck as he cupped the back of her head. “Shh. No more tears. No more crying. Not over us.”
“We can’t—”
He nodded his head. She could feel the up and down motion against the side of her face. “I know we can’t.” He paused before adding, “But I do. I have for awhile. I have in ways I never loved anyone before.”
“Even my sister?” The sharp sarcasm was uncalled for. It came out as anger that this was happening, that he said it, and that he’d ever said it to her sister.
“Anyone.”
“I told you: I still love Micah.”
He suddenly lifted her up, although she wasn’t that small of a woman. He planted his hands under her butt to keep her near him. “Neither of us believes that. Not anymore. You might not be in love with me, but I know you feel something for me.”
He opened the door and staggered upstairs. Placing her on the bed, he stood back, his hands on his hips, and just stared at her. She pulled down the t-shirt to cover whatever it could. She wished she were tall and long and lithe. She wished she had a flat stomach. And less cellulite on her thighs. She wished… she didn’t like seeing the flare of heat that sparked in his dark eyes. He lifted the oversized shorts up. “You can wear these every day for the rest of your life, but it won’t make me desire you any less. You can never wear makeup again. You can get fat. You can cut your hair off, or let it go gray. I don’t care. I will want you, no matter what you do. You can’t talk me out of it anymore. You can’t undo this. And you can’t try to make me see you as my sweet sister-in-law ever again. You’re mine now, Tracy. I have no idea how we’re going to make it work, I’m just telling you I intend to do everything I can to make it work.”
She was spared from having to answer him when he came to the bed and discarded his preppy polo shirt. He leaned over her, pinning her on the bed. She was again lost in a matter of minutes of making out. “You’re different than I expected.”
“How so?” he asked, pulling their lips apart long enough to speak.
“You’re… domineering. Kind of controlling. Kind of the complete opposite that you appear in life.”
“Yeah?” he replied, his tongue gliding down her throat. She caught the small smirk of arrogance that flittered over his mouth. “Do you want me to stop? Be nicer? More ordinary?”
She leaned her head back for her answer, offering her neck to him. “Never,” she said breathlessly. He sucked on her neck and collarbone before moving down to her breasts.
“You’re different too. You’re uninhibited. Not what I expected.”
“Not ordinary?”
He paused, but looked up over her exposed breasts, neck and face until he smiled at her. “You haven’t been ordinary to me since about the day Micah left. Since the day a tiny crack in our previous, formal relationship started. From that day, when I finally actually saw the real you.”
“This is all just so bad.”
“Not as bad as you think.”
“How do you figure? You’re married to my sister.”
“I just think you’ll find it really isn’t that bad. She doesn’t love me. She just… needs me. She won’t be heartbroken.”
She shuddered. She hated to say Vickie’s name. Donny touched her skin and her entire body broke out into goose bumps at his unexpected contact.
“We can’t tell anyone.”
He leaned away and she nearly cried for him to come back. “Secret? What? Do you like the thrill of secrecy? I think we would be much better off if we just got this out in the open. Deal with it now and move on.”
Her heart shriveled in panic at his proposal. “No. I mean it. We cannot tell anyone. How could I tell my daughters that I’m… doing this with their uncle? It’ll ruin them for life. Forever. Scar their senses and destroy their image of me—”
“You know, your daughters picturing you having sex with anyone, even Micah, would do the same thing, right? Calm down, Tracy. I’m sorry, but you’re divorced. You’re bound to move on and find someone new. You’re bound to have sex again. Didn’t you already with Jim? I didn’t see any repercussion destroying your kids with him.”
“Yes, but he’s not a family member!”
“You and your family didn’t even know me until three years ago. It’s not like I’m your first cousin or something. I’m the soon-to-be-divorced-from-your-sister ex brother-in-law. If we hadn’t done this, in a few years time, you wouldn’t even know or care where I was. I’d have faded into the horizon like all the rest of Vickie’s exes.”
“Divorce?” Did her heart melt with gladness to hear him say that? Or freeze in horror?
“I was divorcing her before this happened. Before we happened. I was divorcing her last year, but stayed simply out of respect for my daughter. We’re done. Over. Moved on. You have to know that.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t.”
He sighed and flipped over, wrapping her in his arms in a tight squeeze. “We decided last spring.”
“What?” She struggled against him in order to sit up. “You’re telling me this now? How could you not tell me sooner? I’m dying here and you have a damn revelation and you don’t share it with me?”
His chest rumbled as he chuckled. “It hasn’t been even twenty-four hours since you first planted yourself on top of me. But okay, I waited, as you c
laim, because I promised her I would. It’s only to protect your parents awhile longer from her next actions. You know how she is about it. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell. I was trying to give her that. But then, you attacked me last night, and I think the point is kind of moot now. So you see? I don’t think any of this is as catastrophic as you do.”
“She’s still my little sister,” she whispered. When she said, “little sister,” she sounded almost ashamed to be talking about her.
“Yes, she is. I can’t undo that. Or that she’s Julia’s mother. You’re going to have to learn to deal with it. Or at least, I hope you will. I don’t want to give this up. It’s everything I think I’ve been searching for. You’re all of it, Tracy. This isn’t sex gone wrong. This isn’t bad. This is love. That’s what I see. I’m sorry if you don’t agree. But I hope you’ll grow to eventually agree.”
She shifted so she was closer to him. His words lulled her into a soft place of love and care. It had been so long since she felt safe and cared for. Or wild and free. How could she feel all those things? Lying there on the bed, in middle of the day, naked and turned on, with a big, naked and turned on man, who spoke his thoughts of love was hard to ever regret. Tracy felt young and loved and beautiful again. Special again. She closed her eyes as his voice wafted over her.
“What about Julia?”
“Vickie and I agreed she could come and go at her own discretion. She can’t do this like us. I think we both saw that right off. She can’t stick to this, day in, and day out. Not like you do with your children. One of the reasons I fell so deeply in love with you was after seeing your devotion to the everyday duties of raising children. So the t-shirt, the one you hoped to turn me off with, did just the opposite.”
Her laugh was inappropriate. It popped out of her mouth even though they were supposed to finally be discussing more important things. At last... after all the innuendos, and all the wrongs, they were discussing it for real.
“So you’re just going to let her flit in and out? Like always? Like usual? When the mood strikes her, she can come play Disneyland Mommy? Or just disappear for weeks at a time?”
