by Ali Parker
“How long have you and Deanna known each other?” I asked her.
“I don’t know, like fifteen years or so.”
“I know she’s your best friend,” I said, thinking about a young Adelaide and Deanna.
I had never really paid a lot of attention to her back in our younger years. She was way too young for me and she annoyed the hell out of me. Things had certainly changed.
“She is my best friend. I think of her as my sister,” she replied.
“And I think of Dalton as my brother,” I said with a laugh.
“Deanna was there for me when my dad died. It was a tough time and I kind of fell apart. She kept me going, kept me alive,” she said, her voice soft.
I nodded, vaguely remembering when all of that had happened. “I know you and your dad were close. I’m sorry.”
She offered a faint smile. “We were very close. It was just he and I my whole life. You know what it’s like to lose someone, but I always got the feeling people were annoyed by my grief. I always felt like I had to put it away whenever I was in public or out with others. They didn’t want to see it or hear about it.”
I nodded in understanding. I did know what she meant. “I can’t say I grieved a lot when my own father passed, but when Antoinette died, it was hard. My brothers didn’t really know her. She and my mom had kind of drifted apart and weren’t all that close when she died. None of them could understand the loss I felt. I think that’s when I really pulled away from the family. Just like you said, they didn’t want to see my grief. I chose to leave.”
“I don’t think people are trying to be mean or heartless when they get frustrated by the grief. I think they don’t want to see it because it’s dark and heavy and there’s nothing they can do to fix it.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think grief is supposed to be a warm and fuzzy feeling.”
She giggled, sipping on her drink. “No, I suppose not. That time in my life was when I really kind of shut out the rest of the world. I didn’t trust anyone. Deanna was the only one I could trust. I knew she wasn’t going to scold me for having a moment of tears while shopping or watching TV and a commercial came on that triggered a memory of my dad. She didn’t judge me. Deanna and my dad are the only two people in the world I have ever trusted enough to let them see me, the real me.”
I listened to her and knew exactly what she meant. People were assholes in my opinion, whether they intended to be or not. It was human nature, I supposed. My nature was to shut them out, not let anyone in that could hurt me.
“I get it, I really do,” I murmured.
“I got a little money from my dad’s life insurance. It’s what I used to start the coffee shop. I opened it with him in mind. He had always talked about having his own business one day and being his own boss. He never got that chance, so I’m doing it for him. I don’t know if he would have opened a coffee shop, but I figure a business is a business. I named it Sinclair’s for him,” she said with a fond smile.
I laughed. “That’s where you and I are very different. I never wanted to fly my dad’s flag. Maybe because I had so many brothers already trying to do exactly that. He wouldn’t have liked the way I did it anyway. I never bothered.”
“Competing with five brothers would definitely be challenging,” she stated.
I nodded. “It wasn’t even a competition. Grayson was always the shining star. The rest of us just kind of fell in around and under him. My dad wasn’t really a warm guy. He had enough love for my mom and Grayson. Although, to hear Grayson tell it, Jack was my dad’s favorite. Neither of them has any idea what it was like for the rest of us to be afterthoughts. Grayson and Jack were the heir and the spare, and from me on down, it was just extras.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Really? Do you really think it was like that?”
“I do. I mean, I think he loved me in his own way, he just really sucked at showing it.”
“Was he one of those hard-ass types?” she asked.
I smirked. “You could say that. It was do or die in his eyes, and if you did, you had better be the best. I kind of feel sorry for Grayson, because he was the oldest and my dad was pretty tough on him. I don’t think he ever really thought about doing anything else other than run the company. It was just kind of decided for him at birth.”
“That would be very hard. What if he would have wanted to be an artist or a doctor?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he ever let himself think like that.”
“I am very fortunate to have had my dad. He let me make all the mistakes in the world, and I certainly set a goal to make them all. He never really got mad at me, not even when I got blackout drunk my senior year and fell asleep in the front yard. He was just always there, supporting me and very gently steering me back onto the right path.”
“Antoinette did that for me. She loved me unconditionally. I didn’t realize what that was until I was probably around thirteen or so. That’s when I started spending more time with her. She seemed to understand me, and she never, ever told me I was doing something wrong. She always encouraged me to do what I felt was right. My parents enforced some pretty strict guidelines. There was no coloring outside the lines in their world. We were expected to act a certain way, dress a certain way, and never do anything that would tarnish the family name,” I told her.
She laughed. “I think parents are supposed to set guidelines. Without them, we would run amuck and end up dead or in prison.”
“True, but sometimes they create a rather narrow path for us to follow. I need lots of open road,” I replied. “Antoinette always told me I was a free spirit and needed room to stretch my wings. She had tried to talk to my mom several times, but my mom seemed to take it personally. Antoinette quit trying.”
“I’m glad you got that from Antoinette. Think of the mess you would be if you didn’t have her in your life,” she teased, tossing a fry at me.
“That’s a scary thought,” I agreed.
“Your parents did a good thing when they named her your godmother,” she said.
I laughed. “Maybe they knew I was going to be their wild one. My two older brothers share godparents. I imagine those godparents took one look at me and promptly declined the opportunity to be mine.”
She burst into laughter. “I doubt that. It isn’t like you were born with the tats and long hair.”
I shrugged. “I probably had some mark of the beast on my forehead. Antoinette was the only one to step up to the plate.”
“I think it was fate. You two were meant to be in each other’s lives. I’m sure you brought her a lot of excitement when she was here,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “She was my go-to when I got picked up by the cops. The woman was fierce. I always told people she was my real mom, which of course, really pissed off my mom. She would march into the police station, throwing her name and money around, and drag me back to her place. I always knew I could call her, and she would show up, no matter where she was or what she was doing. She was just always there. I think that’s what I miss the most.”
“I understand completely,” she whispered, and I knew she did.
It felt good to talk to her. I felt free, light as a feather. I hadn’t opened up to anyone about my family and Antoinette’s place in my life in forever. Dalton had a good idea, but it wasn’t like we sat around talking about our feelings. I was a little nervous about opening up to her, but I felt like I could trust her. She and I were so much alike it surprised me.
We finished our dinners and sat on the patio until the sun had long set. She tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. I knew she had to work early again tomorrow.
“I should probably get you home,” I said.
She nodded. “I do have to get up early tomorrow.”
I was bummed to have the night over, but I was hoping she would let me take her out again. She was better than any of the therapists my parents had sent me to over the years. We walked out to my bike. I helped her
with her helmet again before climbing on. She got on behind me, snuggling up close to my body. It felt right to have her back there, like she’d been riding behind me for years.
I took it a little slower on the ride back to her place. I wanted to prolong the evening. I loved riding at night, traffic was light, and the ride was relaxing. I parked in front of her place and got off, helping her off as well. I wasn’t sure if I should try and kiss her or just get on the bike and leave.
I pulled off my helmet, watching as she carefully pulled hers up and off her head. I grinned at her, not saying a word about the helmet hair. “I had fun tonight.”
“I did too.”
We stared at each other. “I should go. I don’t want to keep you out late.”
“It’s not so late. I could probably stay up long enough to have a nightcap,” she said, her voice low.
I smiled. “You think so?”
“I do. Would you like to join me?”
As if she had to ask. “I think I would.”
I grabbed both helmets and carried them upstairs behind her. Of course, I had to check out her ass as we walked. I didn’t know what was happening between us and I wasn’t about to do anything to mess it up. I would have the nightcap and leave. I didn’t want her to get the idea I had invited her to dinner for the sole purpose of getting laid after.
I would be completely satisfied with things just as they were. It had been a good night, better than good.
Chapter 20
Adelaide
I realized once we got into my apartment that I didn’t really have anything to offer in the way of a nightcap. It had seemed like the right thing to say. I wanted to invite him up, but I couldn’t just come right out and ask him to come up and have sex. That was a little too blunt, even for me.
I found a bottle of vodka. Not exactly what I was looking for. There was a box of peppermint tea sitting next to the bottle in my cupboard. I pulled it out and turned to face him. He was standing in my living room, staring at the wall I had covered with pictures of my dad and myself taken over the years.
“So, it turns out I don’t really have anything worth calling a nightcap,” I said.
He turned to look at me, smiling as he walked toward me. “Are you saying you invited me up here on false pretenses?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe. I was thinking about having a cup of tea. Is that totally against everything you believe in?”
He laughed, a deep baritone that sent shivers over my body. “I think I can relax my beliefs for one cup of tea.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. We can spike it with vodka,” I offered.
“I don’t need alcohol,” he said, looking me in the eye.
I nodded. “Okay.”
I was suddenly very nervous. I had the bottle of vodka in one hand and the box of tea in my other, standing there, feeling foolish as ever in my tiny kitchen that he was now standing in.
“Adelaide, do you really want a cup of tea?” he asked in a husky voice.
I slowly shook my head. “No.” I breathed out the word.
“Good, because that’s about the last thing I want right now,” he whispered, taking the vodka bottle and setting it on the counter behind me before reaching for the tea and putting it down.
My gaze held his. I felt flustered with him standing so close. His hands dropped to my hips as he stepped closer to me. He rested his forehead against mine, looking at me with serious intensity that sent my temperature spiking a good five degrees.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his breath brushing over my mouth.
“Oh,” I squeaked out the word.
He gently pushed his lips against mine, barely brushing over them with his. “Yes, oh. I’ve been reliving that moment over and over in my head. I want you again and again,” he whispered.
It was all I could take. I was going to turn into a pile of hot goo at his feet if I didn’t do something and fast. I pushed my mouth against his. I wanted a lot more than a brush of his lips over mine. He responded exactly how I hoped he would. He dropped all pretenses of being gentle and devoured my face with his mouth. His hands moved up to cup my cheeks, holding my head firmly in place while he plunged his tongue inside my mouth. He was far more intense than the first time. He was acting like a man with no control over his desire. I nearly orgasmed just thinking about me doing that to him.
My hands dropped to his hips, pulling him close to me and grinding myself against him. I could feel the bulge in his jeans and gasped. I rubbed myself harder against him. It was like something took over my body. I couldn’t stop rubbing and grinding, pleasuring myself with his hard length hidden under a layer of denim.
“Slow down,” he whispered, stepping away from me.
“I can’t. I’m on fire,” I rasped, my desire making me feel anxious.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised.
“I need it now.” I groaned.
He reached down and lifted me up, my arms going around his neck, my legs around his waist as he carried me into my bedroom. He walked in and dropped me to my feet before reaching for the bedside lamp and turning it on. I was actually glad he had turned on the light. I wanted to see him in the light when I stripped him naked.
He pushed my jacket off my arms, letting it drop to the floor. I looked down, watching his hands grab the hem of my shirt and pull up. I lifted my arms, letting him pull it off and discard it as well. Then it was my bra hitting the floor. His eyes dropped to my bare breasts, reaching out and touching one, sucking in air through his teeth.
I watched him touching me, his big hands roaming over my naked breasts before trailing down to undo the button on my pants, pushing the zipper down and stripping me to stand nude before him. I looked up at him, unashamed of my body, letting him look his fill.
“You are one gorgeous woman,” he said reverently.
“I want to see you naked,” I told him.
His eyes lit up. “Then take off my clothes.”
I didn’t hesitate. I shoved his leather jacket off, none too gently before I attacked his jeans. That’s what I was most interested in getting to. I was careful pulling the zipper down, freeing his heavy cock as I pushed his jeans down his body. He took care of pulling off his shirt.
We stood naked before each other, each of us gazing at the other’s body. I drank in the sight of him before reaching out to trace a tattoo of a pair of angel wings over his heart. I knew those were likely a tribute to his godmother. It was very sweet.
“Adelaide,” his voice was gruff.
“Hmm?” I hummed, running my fingers over his hard chest, tracing another tattoo.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered.
My hand stopped moving, my eyes darting up to meet his. “What?” I asked, my mouth dry.
“This. Slow. I can’t. I want to. God, I really want to, but I’m so hard it hurts.” He groaned.
My eyes dropped to his engorged cock. I reached out, wrapping my hand around it and gently squeezed. He hissed, sounding as if he were in pain.
“Are you saying you want to be inside me?” I asked coyly, deciding to enjoy the power I was quite literally holding in my hand.
“It’s not a want. I need you.” He ground out the words.
I leaned up, still holding him in my hand as I closed my mouth over his, sucking his tongue into my mouth and squeezing again, over and over.
He snapped. That was the only word I could think of to describe his sudden response. He reached up, grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled my head back. His mouth dropped to my neck, sucking my flesh between his teeth as he slid over my throat. I moaned, releasing his shaft and reaching up to hold onto his arms as I bent back, giving him complete access to my neck and throat.
His hand worked between my legs, his fingertips sliding over me, parting my folds before he pushed one finger inside. I gasped, my head jerking forward as his finger invaded my body. The earlier need rushed to the surface once again. I could hear mysel
f moaning with pleasure, my nails digging into his arms to stay standing.
He slowly, achingly pushed a second finger inside, stretching me and triggering an explosive reaction I hadn’t been ready for. I cried out, trying to pull away, the pleasure so intense my body was at odds with my brain that was demanding more. It was a pleasure overload.
“Fuck, yes.” He groaned, his mouth slamming over mine and swallowing my cries.
My body convulsed against him, arching and jerking as his fingers stilled inside me, the pleasure finally ceasing. His mouth moved to my chin, over my jawline, and sucked hard at the base of my neck.
“Good God,” I muttered for lack of anything better to say.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I stepped back, pulling his finger out of me as I turned to do as he ordered. I leaned forward, placing my hands on the footboard of my sleigh bed. His wide palm snaked down my back, gripping one butt cheek and squeezing tight. His knuckles brushed over me and a second later, I could feel him probing at my core. I bent forward, holding on tight to the smooth wood surface as he pushed himself inside me.
“Oh God.” I moaned, the feel of him inside me was so good.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he rasped.
“Move,” I demanded.
“Oh, I’m going to, princess, you better believe that.”
He thrust hard, nearly sending me headfirst over the footboard. I held on tighter, pushing against him. He took it as a challenge, slamming his body against mine. I gasped, the intense pleasure shooting over my body was almost too much. My knees felt weak. I rallied, pushing back hard and fast. I heard him grunt, his hand going to my hip and holding tight as he pummeled his body against mine.
