The Sweet Under His Skin

by Portia Gray

  "Okay. Sorry, but he wants to surprise you."

  He nodded, giving her a quick kiss. "I get it. I love it."

  "Arielle, good, you're still here," a voice declared behind them. They both turned, Quentin keeping his arm around his girl as she said a quick hello to Mandy.

  "Supper tonight, our place. Bring the munchkin," Mandy said, almost all in one breath before letting the clubhouse door bang shut again.

  "I guess we'll have to hurry up on Calvin's surprise," Arielle said wryly, and Quentin chuckled. Yep, his girl was learning the life alright. Not arguing with Mandy was a survival instinct.

  Arielle looked up at him, prompting him to kiss her again. The little tart snuck her tongue out, which made him clamp onto her tighter, meet her tongue and get her gasping again.

  "Babe," he growled, walking her backwards away from the clubhouse door and towards the dorms.

  "Quentin," she giggled, still kissing him back. "I thought you needed a nap."

  "This negates sleep," he threw back at her, stopping and ducking to grab her behind her knees and heft her over his shoulder.

  "Q!" she squealed, and since she usually did that when he was making her come he went from half to full-mast in a half second.

  "You're asking for it, woman."

  "Miss Mandy's house is nice." Arielle reached out, rang the bell, and smiled down at Calvin.

  "You think so?"

  "Yes."

  She was laughing as the door opened, unexpectedly by Colton. "Hey Arielle," he said warmly, leaning over and kissing her cheek. This group was big on cheek-kissing, she realized.

  "Hi Colton," Calvin piped up.

  "Hey Calvin. You good?"

  Calvin nodded emphatically as they entered the foyer. "Yeah."

  Mandy appeared at the kitchen entry, grinning and reaching out for the bowl of oil and vinegar coleslaw Arielle brought along. "Thanks, doll," Mandy said with an arm squeeze. "And how's Calvin?"

  "I'm fine Miss Mandy," Calvin said politely.

  Mandy's eyebrows went high. "I can't scare the manners out of you, can I?" Calvin shook his head. "Everyone's at the kitchen table," Mandy started, and Arielle felt bad.

  "Oh no, are we that late?"

  "Nah. The guys had an impromptu meeting. They just haven't moved their asses yet." Mandy dropped her eyes to Calvin. "Can I trust you to help us at supper?"

  "Sure."

  "They're in the living room, right over there," Mandy explained, and Calvin was off like a shot, making Arielle grin as she shut the inside door behind her.

  "He likes to be the helper," she remarked.

  Mandy nodded and led the way to the kitchen. "Thank God for kids like that."

  "What can I help with?"

  Mandy set down the 'slaw, then turned back with two bottles of wine. "Take these into the dining room. Time the meeting broke up. I'm fucking starving."

  Arielle laughed and did as told, entering the dining room around the large louvered dividers that split the kitchen from the eating area. There was some masculine chuckling going on, Colton taking his seat again as she set the bottles down. There were a couple bottles of JD on the table and from the volume of things that meeting had been over for a little while.

  "How lovely, Lady Arielle is here," Dillon slurred, and she found herself chuckling since he was clearly inebriated. She even forgot her discomfort from earlier that day learning about her sister spending time in his dorm room.

  "Hello, Dillon," she said agreeably as other, familiar hands took her by the waist and pulled her into a waiting lap.

  Before she could act outraged Quentin had her face in his grip and gave her a hell of a kiss, holding her so tight she couldn't get away, even as she shoved at his arms and kicked her feet a little bit.

  The table broke into cheers and catcalls, but Arielle was mostly aware that she was blushing again and that Quentin tasted and smelled of bourbon. When he finally let her go he was grinning wickedly, rubbing his nose up along the side of hers. "I felt I owed you that for this afternoon," he said low enough for only her to hear, and she felt her face get warmer still.

  "Quentin," she snapped, pretending to be annoyed. But now she was remembering that afternoon as well, bringing back the throbbing but slight discomfort between her legs. He'd been enthusiastic with her, fast and rough, but she could not have minded that much if her three orgasms were any indication.

  "All right, Arielle brought coleslaw. Colton, go get the chops off the grill. T-bone, come help me get everything else?" Mandy rattled off standing next to Bishop's chair before leaning over to give him a kiss. "You need a beer?"

  Bishop nodded, and as his blue eyes came down to rest on Arielle again she gulped. Every time that man looked at her she could swear he was reading her mind and found it amusing.

  "Can I take my seat now?" she asked Quentin, finally getting out of his grasp and standing up.

  "Next to me," he ordered, kicking out the seat next to him. As she sat he dragged the chair closer to his. That was fine with her. It felt better to have him between her and Bishop.

  "Oh God, Quentin—"

  "Get it babe, Jesus."

  Arielle leaned away from him slightly, angling her hips, resting her weight on her hands which she clamped on his thighs. He was sitting upright, holding her around the back with one arm, her breast in his hand, eyes on her face as her head lolled back, mouth open.

  "Quentin, that's it!"

  "Don't tell me, babe. Show me."

  One thing had to be said; when his girl let herself go she really rode him with abandon. He just held on, enjoying the show a hell of a lot, feeling the smile. She was so fucking beautiful. He didn`t want to say or do anything to ruin it.

  "So good," she was whispering, and his eyes ran down her body, her shift in position giving him a great view of where they were joined. Even with her this undone and wild she was tight as fuck, forcing herself onto him in a way that was dangerous to his control.

  "Fuck, Arielle."

  "Quentin!"

  "Babe."

  Then she got silent, still, and he felt the grin right before she brought her head forward, tucking her face into the side of his neck, sinking her teeth into him while she squealed.

  He waited until her trembling stopped, then traced his fingertips up her back lightly. "You sore, babe?"

  She leaned back. "Just a little. From this afternoon."

  "We should stop then." He hated to think she was hurting, but he'd felt her cringe when they started up again.

  "No," she said immediately, kissing him with everything she had.

  "Arielle, I don't want you hurting, babe."

  She fell still, taking his face between her hands. "This hurt I'll gladly take, honey."

  He grinned. "I love it when you call me: honey."

  She kissed him at that, then pulled away and moved her hips again.

  On a hiss he reminded her, "You're hurting."

  "I want to enjoy this as much as I can," she whispered. "In a few days you won't even want to hug me, I'm sure."

  He frowned. "What’re you talking about?"

  "Once I'm sick, throwing up again. You don't want to be around that."

  He brought his hand up to cup her jaw. "Sickness and in health, babe."

  She inhaled, falling still. "Careful. That's a wedding vow, honey."

  "I know." Her eyes locked on his, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "For better for worse."

  "Don't."

  "Richer or poorer."

  "Quentin, please—"

  "As long as I live, babe. I'll take care of you."

  Her bottom lip quivered, so he kissed her softly, twisting his torso and rolling her to her back so he was on top of her, still connected, only moving again when she kissed him back, her hands clutching him tight. The need to fuck her mindless was gone. As he slid in then out he was slow, attentive, as much about the kissing and caressing as anything else.

  They finished together, sweetly, not screaming-inte
nse, but shuddering and whimpering into each other's mouths, not wanting the kiss to end. Something had been broached there, something deep that made him say that shit and not even freak out as he did it. Her admitting, somewhat, that she was scared. Not just of being sick, but losing him.

  Him.

  This woman thought there was anything better for him that the absolutely perfection she was. She was out of her goddamn mind.

  "Wow," she whispered when he raised his head, her hand running from his shoulder, down his neck to his chest.

  "Wow," he agreed, reluctantly parting from her and rolling to the side of the bed to clean up. When he came back she was asleep, curled on her side, still naked, tucked in a ball, wig still on.

  Quentin grinned, carefully raised her head and slid it off. He approached the wig form with that grin wavering, but he put the wig on it backwards so he couldn't see the face and slid into bed next to her, turning off the light.

  He snuggled Arielle into his side, her breathing not hitching in sleep, and he knew she was out dead. So he felt absolutely safe as he said softly, "I love you, Arielle."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A clanging woke Quentin from the dead of sleep and he jackknifed upright, taking Arielle with him and startling her awake, too.

  "Shit, babe. I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as she rolled to her back and gazed up at him, looking sweet and sleepy and…yeah, fuckable. Like always.

  "Happy birthday," she whispered, and his goopy reaction to that was something he'd rather ignore. Especially since she looked fuckable.

  Letting that thought take over he ducked his head to kiss her shoulder. She giggled, then he lowered his mouth to her scars, teasing and tickling with tongue and lips, making her gasp. Then the loud noises sounded again from the kitchenand he raised his head. "What’s going on out there?"

  Arielle rested her hand on his head, smiling. "Calvin's making you breakfast."

  He blinked a couple times, putting it together. "For me? Is that what you guys were preparing yesterday?" She nodded, and Quentin felt a weird jolt run through his chest. He sniffed, looking away from her, his eyes burning for some weird reason. "Charlie's making me fancy birthday breakfast?"

  Her hand kept playing with his hair. "He didn't know what to get you for your birthday. So he said he wanted to make you waffles."

  "Shit, Charlie's making waffles? What if he burns himself?"

  "We practiced some yesterday. I trust him. He's very responsible."

  Quentin turned his face away from her to swipe at his eyes, irritated. Fuck, what the hell was this?

  "Quentin, it's okay," she whispered. "Everyone deserves fancy breakfast on their birthday."

  Quentin moved quickly so she wouldn't see that he was tearing up, kissing her hard. She responded immediately, distracting him from this sudden flare of emotion. When he pulled away he suspected he was steady, but his voice still sounded shaky to him. "That kid," he mumbled, rolling away from her and sitting up. "Turning me into a sap."

  She rose to her knees behind him, pressing into his back, hands running over his chest as she kissed his neck then propped her head on his shoulder. "You already were a sap, honey."

  "I gotta go have breakfast right now so Charlie's not late for school," Quentin growled.

  "I know."

  "You making me want to fuck you—is gonna make him late for school."

  She giggled and backed away. He made like he was lunging to grab her, making her squeal and hide under the blankets. Then he got up and pulled on his shorts and jeans, then a T-shirt. "I already know what else I want for my birthday," he shared, pulling his shirt over his head.

  "What's that?"

  He stopped in the doorway, looking back at her as she pulled on his Dead Men T-shirt. "I want you and Calvin to move in with me. No need to pay rent if we're basically living together. I own that place. It won't feel like home without you guys there." Her face got all soft and weepy at that, and he opened the door. "Just…think about it. Okay?"

  She nodded. "Okay."

  The kid was cranking out waffles like a madman, a stack on a plate about ten high was being tucked into the warm stove, and the waffle iron was unplugged, ready to take a rest.

  "Jesus, Charlie," he muttered from the entryway. "You got a thing for waffles or what?"

  "Happy birthday, Q!" he shouted, rushing through the room and throwing his arms around Quentin's waist. Quentin grunted, not a put-on, and ruffled the kid's hair.

  "Thanks Calvin," he returned, hearing the thickness in his own voice as that damn eye-burn came on again.

  "We have whipped cream, strawberries, mangoes, peaches, raspberries, blueberries and syrup."

  Quentin surveyed the table as his stomach gurgled. "Damn, you've been working hard, Charlie."

  There were bowls of the mentioned fruits on the table as well as a huge bowl of fluffy whipped cream. Coffee was already set out, along with orange juice.

  "Sit down," Calvin instructed, pulling him to the table where a chair was angled out, inviting.

  Quentin did as told, pulling his chair to the table and waiting with hands crossed in front of him as Calvin opened the stove and took out a warm plate, wearing an oven mitt, and carried the plate to the table. He set it down in front of Quentin, then went back for the high rise of waffles and did the same. With a big grin he pulled off the mitt and just looked at Quentin.

  "What, I'm eating all these myself? Sit down, Charlie. Keep me company."

  Calvin grinned, ran back and slammed the stove shut then scurried into the chair opposite. Quentin grabbed a couple of the crispy creations before shoving the plate closer to Calvin, who did the same. Then the kid watched while Quentin piled a bit of every kind of fruit on top of them, and he immediately did exactly the same thing. Quentin paused with the whipped cream, grinning at the kid who was back to watching him again.

  "What?" Calvin asked.

  Having that kid copy his breakfast was…fucking weird. And Quentin didn't know why it made his eyes all warm again. He set down the whipped cream and waved the kid over. "Come here, Charlie."

  "Why?" Calvin wanted to know, even as he did what he was told.

  Quentin grabbed him and hugged him, lifting him into his lap. "Thanks buddy," he said, giving the kid a tight squeeze then setting him back on his feet.

  "You're welcome, Q," Calvin replied climbing back into his chair, totally nonplussed and taking the offered whip cream from Quentin.

  Warm hands slid around his chest from behind, and he immediately covered Arielle's hands with one of his. She kissed his neck and said close to his ear, "See? Complete sap. Just a big teddy bear."

  Quentin grinned and pretended to bite at her hand before she pulled it away, then dug into his fancy birthday breakfast.

  Fancy breakfast took most of Calvin's morning prep time, so Arielle was doing the dishes and smiling to herself, losing herself in her thoughts as though she wasn't starting another round of chemo the next day.

  Sickness and in health, babe. For better for worse. Richer or poorer. As long as I live, babe. I'll take care of you.

  As he had said those words the night before she realized she'd never had the girl moment where she felt she needed an answer to the big question: "Is this going anywhere?" She'd never wondered that. She hadn't had to ask, and before the thought was hers he gave the answer all on his own.

  That was just…wow.

  Quentin had offered to help her with dishes when he got back from dropping Calvin off at school, but she reminded him that a person did not do dishes on their birthday.

  She'd just dried and stored away the last plate when the phone rang. Still smiling, she answered the wall phone. "Hello?"

  "Arielle?"

  Jolene's panicked voice for one word and all her contentment fled. "Jolene? What's wrong?"

  "I'm sorry. I…I'm getting out of Portus Felix. I just wanted to say first I'm sorry, and I love you and Calvin and Thelma. And I'm so sorry."

  Her hand
tightened on the receiver. "Jolene? What have you done?"

  "I gotta get out of here. They'll hand me over and let Reuben kill me. I swear, they will."

  "No, Jolene. Stay here and you'll be safe. You can trust them." She wasn't sure how true that was, but Jolene on her own was a guaranteed disaster. She was lunging for her purse on the counter as she spoke, fumbling to get the burner cell Quentin gave her while keeping her sister on the line. "Where are you? I'll come get you."

  "No, they'll just follow you here." Jolene must have been on a payphone, Arielle could hear traffic.

  "Jolene, what's changed?"

  "Clark Davidson showing up, that's what's changed. He can bring Reuben to them. I don't want to be here for it."

  Arielle flicked through the phone book on the cell, finding Colton's number. Quentin was taking Calvin to school which put him pretty far from the rest of the guys. Hopefully Colton was at the clubhouse.

  It didn't even occur to her to call Bishop instead.

  "Arielle? I love you guys a lot. I gotta go. Bye."

  The line went dead, but not before she heard air brakes. But was it a bus or a truck stop?

  She slammed the phone down with a loud, "Shit!" just as Colton picked up.

  "Yeah?" he asked after a pause, some laughter in his tone.

  "It's Arielle."

  "Hey,Arielle—"

  She cut him off. "Jolene got out. She just called me to wish us all well but she wants out of Portus Felix. It sounded like she was at the bus station or a truck stop."

  "Shit, she was in Dillon's room this morning."

  "Again?" Arielle was surprised that Jolene picked favorites on anything.

  "I'll call Bishop and Quentin. You got T-bone watching you right now, right?"

  "Yeah," she replied, panicking.

  "I'll leave him on you, but I'll see where everyone else is. And I guess I better check on Dillon. Your sister has a history with us."

  Arielle cringed. "Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry."

  "I'm at the clubhouse, heading to the dorms right now. Don't worry Arielle. Stay put, I'll let you know when we find out anything worth knowing. Okay?"