Tarnished

by Erica Chilson

  “You didn’t tell me to put the pan underneath the car before I pulled the plug.” Kade gestures wildly, face bright red with embarrassment. “Oil. Every-fucking-where. It was like the motherfucking Exxon Valdez. I went into wildlife protection mode.”

  “Not my fault!” Warren shouts while I murmur, “Common sense is not your strong suit.”

  “Yeah… well, I’ma tackle that bitchin’ task this time around.” Kade puffs out his very large chest, looking intimidating as all hell. “I’ll be the best dang grease monkey Mechanic Franklin has ever seen. He’ll be ditching his asshole son-in-law and taking me on to apprentice. I’ll prove I can do it all. Getting my Master’s yet knowing a trade.”

  Baying like a wild animal, Warren loses his shit. “Bro, shut the fuck up. I’m gonna piss my pants laughing.” The bucket overturns in the commotion. “Just stop. Go back to pushing your papers.”

  “Rat-bastard,” Kade grumbles. Stomping back to his office, a pair of Chucks doesn’t have the same effect as his usual Wolverines. He’s pounding extra hard, and gets frustrated. “Ahhhhh!” he shouts. “Fuck you!”

  “Ain’t ya glad you got him at sixteen?” Warren smirks at me. “That’s the best he can do for an adult temper tantrum. When he was five years old…”

  “Good Lord.” My eyes bug out imagining a kid with gangly uncontrollable arms and legs pitching a fit. “You get that it’s people like Kade who need the Life Skills Center the most, right? We just tell the townies it’s for the hillfolk.”

  “We best keep that a secret,” Warren says with a wink.

  Eyes darting around, I look into the Welcome Center, and then peer into the Study Lab. “Have you seen your sister around anywhere?”

  “In The Kitchen with a smile on her face and a hitch in her step. You did good, boss man.” Warren flashes a naughty grin at me and waggles his eyebrows. “I’d suggest the pantry. It’s nice and dark, and has a lock. Be forewarned: if you don’t see me or Penny around, enter at your own risk.”

  “The Life Skills Center has a fuck booth?” I mull that over, liking the sounds of that. “Good to know.” I wander away with The Kitchen as my destination. “Good to know.”

  The Study Lab is dark and appears to be empty as I enter, but as I get farther into the room, a high-pitched voice filters to my ears. Looking around at all the desks, peeking behind the bookshelves, checking out the seating area, I see nothing.

  “What the hell?” The Study Lab used to be the insurance office, so it’s just as deep as every other building on the block. Checking out all the nooks and crannies, it’s always the last place you look.

  Huddled together at the desk in the far back corner, used for people who can’t study without isolation, I find Brennan and Jack talking to a laptop.

  “Dude, pan your webcam around and show us your room,” Jack’s demanding.

  “Did you just call me dude, sugar?” A tiny voice reverberates from the laptop speakers. “A dude? I’m a queen.”

  “Just do it.” Bren’s voice contains an eye roll. “I’m living vicariously through your Big Gay College Dorm Life.”

  “I like the sounds of that. I’ll have to do webcasts for a new reality show.” Creeping up behind them silently, I peer over their shoulders. “For you–” Franny is sitting at a desk with a cinderblock wall at his back. He spots me and smiles but doesn’t tell the boys. “For you, sugar, I’ll do anything.”

  Panning his camera slowly, Francis shows us his dorm room. Two twin beds. Two dressers. Two desks. Two wardrobes. Nothing different than any other dorm room. Half the walls are covered in Pride propaganda and feather boas, and the other half is covered with poster-sized book covers featuring half-naked men and a huge dry-erase board with a detailed schedule.

  “I’m guessing your roommate is a gay English major who is anal retentive,” Jack observes for me, but his voice is flat, like he’s jealous. “How’d ya manage that feat?”

  “Spot on!” Franny is glowing from the screen when the camera pans back to him. “Sage is most definitely gay, an English major, has a stick up his ass about being on time and doing your best, but he sure is pretty as a picture.”

  “Got a picture?” Bren leans closer like he can spot one on the desk somewhere.

  Lips twisting up deviously, Franny’s eyes twitch between Bren and Jack. “I ended up with Sage Fischer because they dump the gay kids together, fearing we’ll infect the straight kiddies, and it terrifies their mommas and daddies.”

  “Assholes,” Jack mutters. “West Virginia U just pretends we don’t exist. I wouldn’t have roomed there if Wynn wasn’t.”

  “I lucked out. Sage and I were named The Queen and The Twink. Everyone is very sweet to us. Helps because his family is real big in medicine and politics. His uncle is some low-level politician scumbag.”

  “Eww,” Bren and Jack say in unison while I grimace.

  “It gets worse,” flows a soft voice, and then the sound of the door closing warbles the speaker. “The Sages of Massachusetts are right-wing conservative Christians. I’m real fun at cocktail parties for the Catholic hospital.”

  We get the view of a purple shirt as the kid comes into view. “Hi, I’m Sage Fischer. I’m gay. And I’m a liberal,” he announces with obvious pleasure, no doubt his practiced, standard greeting to rub his family wrong.

  We all lean forward, waiting for the roommate to come into focus. Tiny with delicate features, he’s beautiful. Skinny as a rail, the kid sits down next to Franny, sharing the same seat.

  Bren and Jack lean in closer, looking awed and murmuring odd noises from their chests that I wish I could remove from my ears. Clearly this Sage kid is a ten, judging by the boys’ reactions.

  Grin showcasing perfect white teeth, the kid musses up his white hair while a blush creeps up his cheeks. “You’re giving me an ego,” he purrs, and it’s creepy how seductive he sounds.

  “How much time do you spend on your hair every day, pretty boy?” Jack turns feral. “Your shirt costs more than my car.”

  Pointing at his roommate, “Sage rolls outta bed like that,” Franny bursts Jack’s bubble. “No joke. I’ve got a case of the green-eyed monster.”

  “Conservative family, remember?” Hurt mars the kid’s expression. “It means we have money but we don’t spend it. My mom only allows me to have seven shirts, three pairs of pants, and two pairs of shorts. Plus the five suits and the tux. Opal Fischer might be a Mensa member, but she underestimated me. She forgot to put a monetary cap on my wardrobe. But Mom fell for a shopaholic– Ginny. So my other mom sneaks me goodies.”

  “Nice,” Bren drawls. There’s a deep flush creeping up the back of his neck that freaks my ass out. “Very nice.”

  “Mmm… this one here will grow up to be a fine looking manly man.” He points at Bren while eyeing me, obviously knowing I’m the daddy.

  Jack winces, jerking backward like he was just slapped. Lurching forward again, he growls at the laptop screen.

  “Put your claws away, tiger.” Sage curls his fingers and scratches the air. “I’m taken. And none of you are my type.” Stretching, shifting closer to the screen, Sage holds our undivided attention. “I can’t go home for like… seven years. Statute of Limitations. Can’t besmirch the impeccable Sage surname.”

  “What’d you do?” Jack and Bren say in unison, and I fight back the urge to speak myself.

  “My sort-of-boyfriend is blond, blue-eyed, cute as a button, and glows like the sun. He’s six-four, two-hundred pounds of boy-next-door. He’s Fairport’s rising star on the football field. But he’s also the Chief of Police’s baby boy.”

  “And?” Jack’s getting impatient, and so am I.

  “Massachusetts isn’t Pennsyltucky,” Sage says with an evil smirk.

  “West Virginia, ya prissy douchebag,” Jack snarls, but it only sparks the kid to keep riling us up.

  “Pennsyltucky. West Virginia. Same difference.” Insert menacing eyebrow raise. The kid is a consummate actor. “I just turned eighteen
five days ago. Let’s just say I want to be an English teacher, Chief Malcolm Mason has a major hard-on for the law, and Massachusetts has very strict age of consent laws. I have to stay out of the state until Chief Mason’s anger subsides, or I won’t be able to teach if I have to stay so many feet from a school zone.”

  “Dude, what did you do?” Bren gets impatient this time.

  “Seriously, stop saying dude!” Franny bitches through the screen. “You’re not a bro. You can’t pull it off.”

  Sharing a laugh with his roommate, Sage decides to put us out of our misery. “Even though I’ve known the kid for five years, it’s technically child molestation to accept the gift of a fifteen-year-old’s virginity on your eighteenth birthday, even if he’s the one holding you down on the mattress and a blink away from sixteen.”

  “Bullshit,” I snarl, making myself known. “Total bullshit.”

  “I knew you were there.” Bren leans back into me. “I’ve got Dad-dar.”

  “It’s not bullshit.” Sage nods his head up and down rapidly. “Trust me. I’m well-educated on the age of consent laws in my state.”

  “Nah, Sage.” Bren leans forward again. “Dad believes ya. He’s saying bullshit ‘cuz he fell for a fifteen-year-old child bride and it turned him into an idiot. ‘Round here, no one gives two shits unless you’re gay.”

  “Ah, well…” Sage points at Franny’s rainbow walls, and then at himself. “That’s an issue for me, too.”

  “Hang in there, kid.” Since I can’t pat Sage on the shoulder, I rest my hands on Jack’s and Brennan’s instead. “Let the feller grow up some. His daddy will come around.”

  “Damn,” Sage mouths. “That accent.”

  “Down boy,” I chastise him, blush riding my cheeks because I’m flattered. “This old man has got to go find his woman.”

  “God, love a caveman,” Sage’s voice follows me as I walk away. “Franny says this one is bi,” no doubt talking about Brennan. “Some guy ought to snag him before the breeders do. He’s gonna age like fine wine.”

  Striding into the building we dubbed The Kitchen, still blushing like crazy, I find the rest of my family digging into some grub. Hayley and Hayden are fisting sandwiches while sitting on stools at the counter, their feet kicking at the lower cabinets. Kade and Wynn are shoveling chips by the handfuls, sharing a whispered conversation.

  … And Willa. Back turned to the room, she’s humming to herself while organizing ingredients for this evening’s class on bread baking. She’s wearing a virginal white dress, and my heart starts beating in my dick.

  Announcing my arrival, “Bren and Jack have Franny on Skype.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “You better go check out his roommate.”

  “Sweet!” Wynn drawls, dropping the chip bag and charging out of the kitchen. Kade’s on Wynn’s heels, but he’s being slowed down by two kids trying to overtake him.

  Squealing, “Franny!” Hayley’s super excited to see her friend again. Francis was always really patient with the kids, especially Hayley. She liked to be dressed up like a living doll. Hayden wanted nothing to do with it, except to document the humiliation on film.

  “You sure do know how to clear a room, Mr. Kennedy.” Turning to face me, Willa’s smirking. “So, tell me about the roommate. Ah! You’re blushing.”

  We both hitch our heads to the side when a “Damn!” flows in from the room next door.

  “Pretty sure that was Kade. He always did have a thing for twinks. Never could understand his fixation with Wynn, seeing as how he’s the total opposite of one.” Blush deepening, I clear my throat. “Yeah, we should have followed them in there and watched the drama unfold. I’m positive Kade and Wynn are exactly that flirty kid’s type.”

  Lips quirking up at the corners, “Coming onto ya, was he?” Willa sashays toward me, white dress swaying around her hips. I just back up, allowing her to think she’s herding me to the pantry. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Have ya, now?” I reach behind me blindly to twist the knob. “I missed being inside ya, Mrs. Kennedy.”

  Eyes sharp, stalking me like a predator, Willa traps me in the pantry. “I think we could remedy that, Mr. Kennedy.” My audible swallow is loud in the quiet pantry.

  Allowing Willa to feel powerful, to feel in control like she’s won, I stand in the dark room, watching as she shuts us in and locks the door. Then I pounce.

  “Uh!” a grunt is torn from Willa’s chest when I pin her face-first against the door. Stunned frozen, I use the opportunity to fetch both of her fragile wrists in one of my palms. Arms raised over head, her dress hikes up. Knee parting her thighs, I press into her.

  Lips fluttering at her ear, “Welcome to the fuck booth, Mrs. Kennedy,” flows, flicking her on switch. Free hand fishing between us, my fingertips hook into her panties. Rip. Willa jerks with the force but she remains completely silent.

  “You’re never allowed to wear pants,” I rasp against her ear, then give it a little lick. Wiggling against my chest, Willa turns liquid. “And I’m seriously debating on never replacing your underwear.”

  “Hurry up!” Willa pants, turning impatient. Her ass grinds into me, always trying to usurp control. The push and pull struggle between us is what keeps it interesting. Using my free hand, I try to tear at my fly. “If I gotta wear a dress, you better invest in some workout pants.”

  “You’re so smart,” I mutter breathlessly, complimenting her. “We’ll hit Amazon in a few minutes. But first–” Zipper down, I reach in, tugging my boxers out of the way to free my willy.

  Surging forward, ass flexing, I thrust my hips, driving my cock home. “Ahhh!” Willa and I moan together, relieved after being apart for five excruciatingly long hours. Shivering, my body falls lax, all of my weight pressing Willa against the door.

  Taking my time, my hand roves up the front of Willa’s body. Her dress tickles at my forearm. Palm cupping first one tit, and then the other, I take my fill. I’m not rough, knowing her nipples are abraded from last night and this morning.

  “Are you sore?” I swivel my hips, dick getting sucked by her lady parts, making sure she knows what I’m curious about.

  “Yes,” Willa breathes back, but then she counterthrusts. Hard. My dick bottoms out, cockhead smashing deep inside her. “But I love how alive it makes me feel. That little edge of pain makes the pleasure more intense.”

  With a smile in my voice, “That’s my girl,” I sing.

  Using her raised arms as leverage, I release my passion for Willa that I usually have to contain and dampen. Legs spread wide, I force up into her over and over again. Her fingers curl around my thumb, nails branding my skin.

  Hand leaving her tiny breast, I cup her mound with my palm. Hoisting her up by the pussy, I slip a finger deep inside right alongside my cock. I fuck the living daylights out of Willa, pressing her face to the door to quiet the animalistic sounds pouring from her throat.

  Unable to last, I’m pouring when the first of Willa’s spasms suck at my cock. Trying to ride out our orgasms in silence, the only sound escaping is our labored breath and the scratch of Willa’s nails on the door.

  “I’ll build my stamina back up,” I promise. I pull free of Willa’s body, shuddering as her constricting muscles try to recapture me. “We went too long without.” Tucking myself back in, I take a step back to give Willa some room.

  She rolls from her front to rest her back on the door. Completely boneless, Willa sprawls, not caring about my semen running in rivulets down her inner thighs.

  Dropping to my knees, the tile floor jarring me, I press my mouth to her girly bits and get to cleaning up my own mess. I lick her thighs clean first, then I spread her wide open with my fingertips. Mouth latched, I suck at her opening until all I taste is her essence. Tongue curling around her clit, Willa breaks apart again. Head rocking back and forth against the door, stifling her cries she bites her own fist.

  Once the last shudder passes, I pull away, seeking her discarded panties. “What was that?” Wil
la’s voice is rough, throaty. Blushing, I wipe my face clean with her panties, and then tuck them in my front pocket.

  Rising to my feet, “You don’t have any underwear, and you can’t walk around with my cum trickling down your legs all day. It’ll drive me nuts and freak the kids out.”

  Willa sounds embarrassed yet awed. “I planned on hitting the bathroom.”

  “My way was more fun.” I flash a smile, then lean in to lay a wet smacker on her lips. “You got off a second time, and you don’t have to chance a walk of shame if anyone is in the kitchen.”

  Pulling out her cellphone to use as a light, “Good point.” Willa shakes her head, still looking shocked. “Do I look okay?” She pats her mussed up hair and tugs her dress into place.

  “You look perfect,” I reply honestly. Willa looks like I just fucked her six ways to Sunday and back again. Curls sticking out in every direction, lips ruddy and swollen, face and chest flushed– I did that.

  “C’mon, Mrs. Kennedy.” I unlock the door, squinting when I open it and get hit by the bright light. “We have a center to run.”

  A few minutes later, Willa’s back to organizing tonight’s baking lesson and I’m sitting on a stool eating the huge after-sex sandwich she made me. Could the woman be any more perfect?

  All the kids pour into the room, mad chatter following them. Popping a piece of tomato into my mouth, I try to absorb this, because it’s the last time. Tomorrow afternoon the boys head off to college, beginning a new era for all of us. Plus, I’m pretty sure Wynn is never going to forgive me when I drop the fact that I’m the twins’ father into his lap.

  Not looking forward to that.

  Mmm… Teeth sinking into ham, salami, and Muenster, I watch my kids with great amusement. The twins hop up on stools on either side of me. Their Gillette lineage showing, they turn to thievery. Hayley steals my pickle, but Hayden steals half my freaking sandwich. I issue a warning glare, but the little brat takes a big bite.

  “You’re just like your brother licking Kade’s sweets,” is on the tip of my tongue, but that secret is still hovering over us. But not for long.