“Ignore whatever he said!” The older woman smiled but kept right on working, not bothering to look up from her desk.
Driving home, Andrew called Denise. She didn’t answer, she never did, and he drove on getting angrier as the message system did its thing.
“Denise, Andrew. In the future pick up the phone when I call. Be ready at seven, please. We’re going out to dinner.”
He clicked off sharply and called William, the oldest.
“Dude-“
“Be ready at 7:00, William. Dinner. Tell your brothers.”
“Sure.”
“Make sure you all shower and dress up. No shorts and Ts.”
“Fuck.”
“Language, pal.”
“Dude-“
“William.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t dude me or say fuck when I’m telling you to do something.”
“Crap. You mad?”
“I’m just saying. Got it?”
“I don’t know, man.”
“Sir.”
“Fuck!”
“Fuck, Sir!”
Andrew grinned to himself, tossing the phone to the seat. He felt better already.
Evan had been right. He needed to keep his hands firmly on the reins, steady on the wheel, and every other masculine image of control out there. His mom was a competent, organized, intelligent woman who certainly kept things moving smoothly. But the few times the shit had hit the fan when Andrew was a kid his dad had been all over the place. And he knew better himself, from work, from sports. If you’re in charge, you’re in charge. He’d announced himself with Denise. And then he stood back and waited for her to give him permission. He flushed. Furious with himself. What a dick.
“I expect you idiots back in school. Tomorrow.” He said flatly as soon as they’d ordered dinner. “Any questions?”
“No, Sir!” William said promptly. He dug an elbow into Zander’s side and kicked Lucas.
“Absolutely not!”
“You bet.”
“Sir!” All three added in chorus.
Andrew grinned. “Tell me about all those damn mutts.”
Four sets of eyes fixed on him. Two sets were extremely anxious. The others were merely interested.
The concerned parties both began to speak at once. Andrew shot up a hand, and looked pointedly at Denise. “There are at least twenty fre-“ he bit off the word, knowing if he expected the boys to speak better he needed to as well- “dogs roaming the property. Do any of them mean more to any of you than the others?”
“They all matter!” Lucas voice shook. “And there’s nine. Not twenty.”
“Nine is too many dogs.”
Lucas shoved his chair back. “Why? Says who? They have no other home!”
“Are they yours? All of them?”
The kid nodded.
“We’ll talk.” Andrew looked around the table. “They’re out of control, Lucas. That’s what I won’t tolerate. I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll get kennels or something.”
Some of the tension left the boys bodies. Their sister sat as straight as a martinet, her face a total mask. The rest of dinner passed smoothly, even well. The boys relaxed, and seemed to get the basic idea: He, Andrew, was in charge, but life would probably be a benevolent dictatorship. Denise, on the other hand, could have snagged an Oscar for doing cool, aloof, and very polite.
The boys left the restaurant in a noisy pack, William armed with the valet ticket. Andrew’s hand shot out, a slight pressure keeping Denise in her seat at the table. He waited for her to look at him, the waiter to move away.
“You have your bedroom and I’ve been sleeping in another one. Take your pick, but choose one for us both and let me know before you go up tonight.” He slipped the signed receipt back into the leather folder and reached for his wallet as he stood.
He watched her as he placed the card back in the wallet and slid it into his pants. Her eyes had widened slightly and she’d nipped her lower lip with her teeth just slightly. Otherwise, not a sign.
“Understood?” He eased her chair from the table and reached out a hand to her. He watched her long lashes sweep her cheek as she dropped her eyes. Her head ducked slightly. She dabbed her lips with her napkin and then her tongue swept out and licked nervously. She placed her hand in his waiting palm and stood up.
Andrew waited, possessing her hand, waiting for her to look at him again. She started to turn away. Andrew stopped her, his other hand moving to catch her chin and tip her face up to his. “Look at me, Denise.”
The teeth caught at the lip again, but her eyes came up.
“Understood.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Andrew leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, nipping just lightly. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “Good girl.”
***
It was that good girl that got her the most. In another man it might not have even registered, but oh, with him, it did. The desire to shoot him gave her an actual, physical ache, as if the muscles in her arm tensed as she brought a high caliber rifle to her shoulder. She didn’t want him in her room. Just inside the front door she paused for a brief moment and looked at him. “I’ll come to you, please.”
His lips had thinned slightly but he nodded. “I’ll expect you to stay. You can move your things in tomorrow.” He moved ahead of her, tossing comments after the boys.
In her bathroom she opened the medicine cabinet and flicked the lid off a valium bottle without any hesitation. She swallowed two, and then went to work removing make up, brushing teeth. She spent more time than normal flossing.
She dressed in boxers and left her room, braiding her hair tightly as she walked down the hall, focusing on bringing the strands tightly together. Her hand went out to knock and then she stopped and opened the door because fuck it, if this was to be her room too…-
Andrew lay on the bed, several pillows propped behind his head, the remote in his hand. “Hey.” His voice was casual, and he patted the bed beside him.
Denise didn’t know what to do. What to expect. Sex between them had always been good. But now? All she wanted was to murder him. She climbed up onto the bed. Jeez. She’d never realized how incredibly high off the ground it was. The TV was on, so staying as close to the edge of the bed as she could, she fixed a look of keen interest on her face, as though Amazing Animals really was amazing.
A long, tanned, strong arm swept out and scooped, affixing itself to her hip and dragging her closer. She couldn’t help it -- she flinched, resisted. A mistake.
The remote dropped. Andrew turned more completely to her and pulled inexorably. Her body slid across the bed. He reached over and back, pulling the pillows out from under her head. He propped his head on one hand, and with the other he gently touched her face, softly sweeping the wisps of hair back from her cheeks. “This can be good, Denise.”
The pad of his thumb stroked her cheekbone. Her brow. Came to rest on her lips and caressed. There was the slightest pressure and Denise opened her lips without thinking. His thumb stroked back and forth along her lower lip and then her mouth opened and he took over the warm wet of her, stroking her tongue, following the smooth enamel of her teeth, running his finger far back in her throat. She gasped, swallowed, tried to pull back. He surged up and over, letting his weight settle over her hips.
Denise’s eyes flew open. He sat straight and tall, watching her, smiling gently as she looked up at him, her head rearing back to escape his long finger. He bent, kissing her forehead, her cheek bones, his other hand coming up and stroking her throat, sliding his palm up its graceful column, a finger tickling the lobe of her ear, tongue exploring the inner recesses and drifting back to her mouth.
He palmed the back of her head and returned to an exploration of her mouth with his fingers, his lips making their own path over her face.
Her head held firmly, Denise felt his finger trace her tongue, and his tongue tenderly lap up a tear newly released from her eye. “Shush, ba
by,” he crooned. “This is going to be so good.”
Her body told her he was right. She trembled from the effort not to arch upward, raise herself to him, allow her legs to open. He put an end to that -- moving his hand to cup her breast, lazily rubbing his thumb over her rigid nipple. She moaned.
Her brain did not surrender. This was all wrong. She supposed if she were an intellectual woman she would be able to find treatises discussing this phenomenon. Her body betraying, her mind crying out against the betrayal. So it was all one, was it? Mind and body, not separate? Bullshit. Tears ran freely down her cheeks. Andrew cradled her head, those wicked thumbs stroking her cheekbones, soothing lightly over her lids, his tongue gently following the tears’ path. She hated him. Her body gushed approval.
Andrew asked absolutely nothing from her, simply wrote his absolute dominion on her skin. His fingers finessed buttons and scooped her breasts from the cradle of her bra, lavished warm pulls of his lips and slight, fierce nips of teeth. A knee plowed a furlough between her legs, hands slipping between skin and cloth, allowing those lean strong fingers to slide down her ass, scalping the boxers in one swoop.
He rocked back on his heels and watched her face. He circled her ankles with his thumb and forefinger and ran them at leisure up her claves, widening at her knees to stroke with strong hands before his palms lifted her ass. She struggled briefly then and he held her, his weight on his heels, eyes watching her face, hands steady and when she stopped squirming, the pressure and tilt of his palms forced her legs open further, and his mouth descended, eyes never ceasing their vigilance.
He took his time with teeth and tongue, stroking, probing, fingers parting, murmuring approval until he was satisfied by the limp nonresistance of her body, the soft whimpers from her when he stopped, and he reached for pillows.
“Lift your ass.” He placed the two pillows under her, elevating her slightly. His hands slid down her arms, lacing her fingers in his own he moved her arms over her head and then circled both thin wrists with one of his. His other hand reached for his zipper. He watched her face as he released his cock. “Look at me, Denise.”
Her eyes opened slowly. Glazed with desire. He smiled softly and pressed the head of his cock at her entrance. Still holding himself, he nodded. “Take me in.”
She obediently lifted her hips and he slid in of her effort. Another tear dropped from the corner of one eye.
Andrew braced his hands near her head. He moved his own face close to hers and tilted his hips, his cock thrusting against her cervix. He added pressure, watching as her eyes widened a bit.
He nodded. “Yeah. That’s right, Denise.”
Her eyelids drifted and he shoved at her again. “Look at me!” he commanded and began his ride. Her eyes didn’t waver again. His hand moved to her clit, his touch relentless. When she came, she screamed. When she lay limp, Andrew relaxed his control, thrusting hard several times before he came, finally joining her, sated, limp on the bed, one hand possessively splayed over her stomach.
Reluctant Consent Page 5
