Brice runs her hands through her hair. It’s blissful to watch her in motion, seeing her natural rhythm portrayed in a story. She dances above me, rocking her body in a groove until her pace becomes unhinged. Now she’s riding me like I’m a raging bull. The skin between her breasts sweats, beads trickling down to her abdomen. I catch a glimpse of her stomach muscles when she leans back and really gets going. In this position everything feels tight. She bringing me to the edge, knowing I’ll be unable to withstand from losing it.
Her breasts bounce around opposite the way her hips stride. I’m falling apart, gripping her ass in order to slow her down, but it’s impossible. She’s on a mission and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m crumbling. In a matter of seconds my body takes over and I tighten. She’s bucking against me, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me. My climax cripples me, finally causing every inch to go limp.
Afterwards we face each other, my hands tracing patterns on the exposed parts of her back. “It doesn’t get any better than this, does it?” I ask.
“You can say that again.”
So I do. “It doesn’t get any better than this,” I say while leaning forward to kiss her. “Love ya, babe.”
“Right back at cha,” she matches with a tap to the tip of my nose. “There’s no place else I’d rather be than right here with you for the rest of my life.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Mrs. Future Weston Wallace.”
She snickers. “You better.”
All drama with her dad aside, I know this is right. We have much to look forward to, and nothing will stand in our way as long as we remain on the same page, which I know won’t be a problem.
Chapter 6
Weston
The week after Christmas is usually the most boring, but beneficial. We take off of work. Even my dad’s restaurant operates on holiday hours. A three hour breakfast shift in the mornings and then closed afterwards. They have a New Years Eve dinner that we all have to contribute to, but it’s sort of a tradition that we’re together, so we don’t mind it much. Last year it consisted of my whole family and then a few local residents we’ve known forever.
This year’s celebrating is going to be a bit different. Since Brice is pregnant, I’ve been given the go-ahead to drink, which means I have a beautiful, caring, designated driver to make sure I get home in one piece. I offered to stay at home for a quiet night, but Brice insisted. Even when I asked if she wanted me to have a sober evening, she refused. The plan is to take it slow so that I’m not a burden. I want her to have a good time even though she won’t get to have the traditional shot at the stroke of midnight.
After being in a vegetated state for the past week, where we literally laid around binge watching television and movies until we’d pass out, emptying the cabinets of every snack possible, and doing a whole lot of nothing else, we are ready for a night out and a nice meal that doesn’t consist of canned anything.
I enjoy cooking, but we hadn’t gone grocery shopping, and neither of us wanted to step foot outside, especially since it’s been raining on an off for the past seven days.
All my brothers have arrived when we walk in the door to the restaurant. The twins, Caleb and Coop, are sucking helium from a balloon and talking to each other, while two females watch as if they’re actually entertained. Obviously they’ve already started drinking, or else they wouldn’t think two grown men acting immature is a fun time. Another of my siblings, Dane, sits in a booth with his arm around a familiar blonde. He offers a wave, but is too invested in his own conversation to move from that spot. Bristol and my step-brother Chris are arguing about something behind the counter. She pulls and object from his grasp and hurries away. It only takes me a few seconds to notice it’s a cell phone, one that’s bedazzled, which means it’s probably hers. They like to hack each other, posting random statements on each other’s pages to cause a fuss. Chris usually does a better job, and in this case he’s definitely made her mad.
Brant and Jamie approach us, leaving my dad and Alice to a few neighbors that sit with them. After a quick shake, Brant and Jamie both hug Brice.
“How are you feeling today?” Jamie asks.
We haven’t seen them this whole week, choosing to spend alone time together than invite another couple to come over. They’re usually the only people we hang out with, but from the look on my brother’s face I’d say he’s been doing the same thing. Jamie is all smiles, and he can’t keep his eyes off her.
I nudge him. “I know the feeling, bro. What shows did you binge this week?”
“We’re all caught up on Game of Thrones and Shameless. Then we watched porn and fucked like rabbits.” He laughs at his own comment.
“If that’s not a joke I don’t want to hear details. Keep that shit to yourself.”
Jamie offers her two-cents. “If your brother is watching porn, he’s doing it on the toilet. Contrary to his sense of humor, I’ve never been interested in watching a bunch of people pretending.” She cups a chunk of his ass. “I happen to like the man I’ve got too much. He’s pretty freaking awesome.”
I pretend to gag, only to get a rise out of my brother. “Don’t even, bro,” he starts. “Like you have any room to talk. You’ve been obsessed with Brice for years.” He’s right. I throw my hands in the air. “Guilty as charged.” She walks over and I loop my arm around her waist and pull her close. “I’m her bitch. She knows it.”
Brice rolls her eyes but manages a smile. “What’s he over here telling you?”
“Nothing but good things,” Jamie assures.
She pats my chest with the palm of her hand. “He better. If he knows what’s good for him.”
“I do, babe. Trust me. No complaints here.”
“Except for your dad,” Brant interjects.
Shaking my head, I simply button my trap and see if Brice feels offended. I can’t lie my way out of it. She knows more than anyone how I feel about her father.
“One day my dad is going to be sorry for treating West the way he does. I’m not real sure when it will happen, but mark my words, it will.” She strokes the side of my face. “Isn’t that right, dear father of my child?”
I kiss her lightly and then take her into my arms and swing her around a bit. “Hook, line, and sinker. I’m yours forever.”
She playfully slaps me on the cheek. “Sweet Talker. That should be your pilot name.”
I straighten and laugh it off. “My what?”
“Your pilot name. Like Maverick, but more badass and less sex appeal. I wouldn’t want competition with the other ladies.”
I’m flabbergasted. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
She comes up and kisses me with as much enthusiasm as a twenty year convict sees in his first female encounter. I’m taken back, but go with it, not even caring who could be watching. When she pulls away, she snickers. “I’ll show you later, or better yet, you’ll be showing me. You can be the pilot and I’ll be your personal stewardess.”
My brows raise. “We can leave right now. These fools aren’t that important.”
“Good things come to those who wait, Sweet Talker.”
“Okay,” it comes out with a guffaw. “I’ll be whatever you want if it requires us to be naked. I’ll fuck you until next Friday and then across the whole damn weekend.”
“You’re a weirdo.”
I smack her ass. “You love it. Shut your pretty little pie hole.”
“You too are pathetic,” Brant interrupts. “Seriously, get a room, or at least go in the back. You do know married people never have sex, right?”
Jamie snickers, while I consider the possibility. “Yeah right. My woman is a nymphomaniac. She knows it’s medically healthy to fornicate at least three times a day.”
“Fornicate?” Jamie can’t contain her amusement. “You are ridiculous. On that note I need another soda.”
The girls go off to mingle again, while I head over and join my dad and Alice. Their company is off tal
king to some other locals now, leaving them available to chat with. “How are the grandparents to be?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head with a big old smile across his face. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m excited. I was just telling Alice how great it’s going to be to have little ones in the house again.”
“Your dad and I can’t wait to babysit. He thinks there is all sorts of baby things in the attic.”
“That’s pretty damn cool. I’m excited. Hell, I’m even looking forward to talking to her dad tomorrow. I’ll make that dickhead see I’m the man for his daughter. I’ll prove my worth if it’s the last damn thing I do.”
Dad offers a bit of advice. “You don’t need his approval to know you’re a good man, Weston. I’m proud of you, and Brice adores you. Don’t let that SOB ruin these first years. They’re the important ones you’ll never forget.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The music is playing over the sound of the television, which are all tuned to the same channel hosting the ball drop. With the amount of people in the restaurant, it's hard to stay in one place. We mingle around the only stipulation being that every time someone mentions the year we all have to drink, minus Brice and Jamie who have both opted out of consuming alcohol.
A couple hours go by and much to our surprise the media talks about the Year way more than we originally anticipated. I'm knocked off my ass, and it's possible I won't last till midnight. I'm certainly looking forward to climbing in bed and closing my eyes.
The party gets a bit rowdy. Dad takes the twin’s keys and makes sure Jamie is driving Brant home. Dane doesn’t stay the whole time as usual. He and his date duck out around eleven saying they have another party to attend. Bristol and Chris have a few friends stop by, so they’ve been hanging out with them for the past few hours.
It’s five minutes to midnight and I see Brice yawning. She’s tired, and even in my drunken state I can tell she’d rather be home in bed. I wave goodbye to my family, opting to skip out before the ball drops so we can be alone. Brice doesn’t argue. We’re no sooner in the car when the radio disc jockey starts counting down. Halfway out of the parking lot she stops the car and throws it into park. “Happy New Year, West. It’s going to be a good one.”
“As long as you’re by my side I know it will.”
Our kiss is long and full of passion. I know we’re not going to bed when we arrive at the house, and it excites every part of me. This is what I want. Tomorrow can wait, or technically it’s already tomorrow, but at least there is a sleep in between. My life is set. All I need to do now is convince her asshole father that I’m it for his daughter. Then it will be perfect.
Chapter 7
Weston
It’s the middle of the night, and the sound of rain makes a constant tapping against the metal porch roof next to the bedroom window. I’m not sure how long we’ve been sleeping, me passed out, but I know I was dreaming about a little baby girl with big dimples and curly hair. I sit up, wipe my eyes and listen to Brice answer her phone.
I wonder if we’ve just arrived and it only seems like we’ve been here a while. Perhaps we left something at the restaurant, or maybe someone had car trouble after we pulled away. We’re close enough where it’s a possibility.
My head starts to pound, telling me I either need to close my eyes again, or get up to find medicine to ease the pain.
Brice sees me sitting up and immediately leaves the room. She’s only wearing a pair of panties, which tells me we probably had sex when we arrived. Everything is foggy. Maybe it’s morning. A quick investigation of the window and it tells me it’s dark out.
I wonder the probability that there’s an emergency. Is it my family? Hers? My curiosity causes me to jump from the bed and seek out my equally tired fiancée.
In the kitchen leaning against the breakfast island, she’s arguing with someone. My only thought is Kimber. She wouldn’t call my family immature to their face. Ok, I take that back. She’d definitely tell Caleb and Coop where to go. Standing next to her with my arms crossed, I wait for an explanation as to why she’s so distraught. The conversation only lasts a few more seconds. Brice sits her phone on the quartz counter and sighs, leaning against the hard surface for support. “Sorry I woke you, babe. You can go back to bed.”
Touching her shoulder is enough to get her to fall against my chest. “What’s going on?”
“Just my sister. She’s at a party and wanted to know if she could crash here.”
“Did you tell her to stay put if she’s drinking?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? She wants to come here.”
“I didn’t hear everything.” I back away and wipe my face with my hands. “To be honest I’m still pretty fucked up.” When I grab her phone and look at the screen I can see why. It’s only one. We’ve literally been home for about an hour, and there’s no way the alcohol has had time to work it’s way from my bloodstream. “You coming back to bed?” I say while pulling her along.
She jerks away, but casually, as if she still needs a second to calm down. “Be there in a minute. I’m going to grab some water.”
I kiss the top of her head and snicker before leaving the room. “Cuddles await!” It’s the last thing I say before I hit the mattress and get lost in a much needed slumber.
Unfortunately the dream of my unborn child doesn’t return. The next time I wake the sun is bright illuminating the bedroom. I wipe my face and pat the spot beside me, discovering it’s empty. It’s not even remotely warm. My first thought is that I snored so loud from drinking that I literally forced her into the guestroom. Taking my time, I stretch then proceed to the bathroom to relieve myself. While I’m there, I brush my teeth, because it’s harder to apologize for bad manners with ass breath. My hair is an easy fix. A little water tames the beast. For someone who can only remember part of the previous night, I’m not too shabby.
Before venturing out to most likely wake Brice, I check my phone for messages, and peruse through the slew of ridiculous photographs that I apparently captured at the New Year’s Eve party. At least Brice is smiling in most of them. The others she’s making silly faces and being the happy woman I love dearly. I’m just hoping she’s not too disturbed with me, or that I may have said something inappropriate to warrant her sleeping in another room.
The first thing I notice is that the television isn’t on. I check the guest room and it hasn’t been slept in. Then my eyes scan the wall where we hang our coats and keys. Hers are gone.
I open the refrigerator and check to see if we’re out of creamer or something she’d want to pick up spur of the moment. We may be out of most items, but there’s still stuff for breakfast and nearly a half bottle of vanilla flavored non-dairy creamer.
Instead of wondering if I said something unforgiveable, I dial her number and hear something faint coming from the bedroom. She’s forgotten to take it with her. It’s vibrated off the nightstand and onto the floor. I pick it up and see that she’s gotten quite a few messages. The oldest ones are from Kimber, sent between one and two. She’s asking her to come get her. There’s no response from Brice, but I’m beginning to assume that she left hours ago, which makes me worried. Quickly I dial the number back and wait for her to pick up and start explaining why Brice isn’t home yet. Knowing Kimber, she conned Brice into getting her a hotel room to sober up in, ended up puking, and made Brice feel like she had to stay to help. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The cell phone rings until the voicemail picks up. Just hearing her talking makes the hair stand up on my arms. I’m so pissed I decide to leave a message threatening her. “Answer the fucking phone, Kimber. I’m worried about Brice. Have her call me if you’re still together.”
I try to call again, and then a third time, but it continues to send me to the voicemail. Assuming she’s probably at her parent’s house, because she was too tired to make it any further, I dress and prepare to head over. I’m still trying to reach Kimber when I pull up at the hous
e finding neither of their cars in the driveway, in fact, there aren’t any cars parked at the house, not even the asshole’s BMW.
I run up to the front door and decide I have to at least see if anyone is home. Maybe he’s managed to clean out the garage enough to fit two cars inside instead of one. Maybe one is in the shop. There has to be an explanation as to why, this early in the morning, no one is picking up their phones or home.
I beat on the door for a few minutes and no one comes. Back in my truck, I’m on the phone again, this time calling Brice’s mother. Her dad will be a last resort if I can’t get through.
Three rings and then a female picks up. “Hello?”
This voice isn’t someone I’m familiar with. I even look down to check and make sure I’ve dialed the right person. “Is Kathy there?”
“I’m sorry, may I ask who this is?”
“It’s West. I’m her daughter’s fiancée.”
“You haven’t heard?” There’s shuffling on the other end on the phone as if the person I’m speaking to is walking around.
“Heard what? Did something happen? Is Kathy okay?” I can only assume something happened and everyone is at the hospital. She’s been complaining that something is wrong with her stomach, but Brice said it was nothing but a case of gas.
This woman is louder and more clear when she responds. “I’m sorry, but there’s been an accident. It’s best if you get here as soon as you’re able to.”
“Accident. What kind of accident? Is Brice there? Can I talk to her? She left her phone at home.”
“We’re at Peninsula Regional. That’s all I can say right now.” She hangs up abruptly, causing alarm to my already concerned mind. I’m freaking out as I tear down the road and try to head off the island. The hospital is nearly an hour away. I don’t have time to waste. For whatever reason Brice couldn’t talk to me. I start to wonder if Kimber got into an accident and that’s why they’re all unreachable. She probably didn’t wait around for Brice to come to her rescue. It’s going to be terrible for her if she was the one to pull up on the accident. I’m worried and lost the entire time I’m driving. I’m making phone calls, hoping my local cop friends can shed some light on vehicle collisions that happened between the times I’m assuming this may have occurred.
Waves of Despair: Oyster Cove Series Page 5
