"Mmhmm," I agreed, slipping my fingers up her pussy, teasing over her clit. "That's why you're going to be real quiet," I told her, voice going lower.
My free hand went to the back of her neck, pressing her face against my shirt, muffling any sounds as I worked her clit, as I finger-fucked her pussy, my cock already aching for release.
Impatient, I led her over to the bed.
I yanked her pants down her legs, nudging her forward, getting her knees on the edge of the mattress. My hand slid up her spine, pressing it, making her bow forward, her ass up high toward me, giving me a great view as I straightened again, my finger tracing down her slit, slipping inside her for a moment, stroking over her G-spot, driving her up for a minute before pulling out again.
Reaching in the nightstand, I pulled on a condom, grabbing my cock, and slipping inside her.
Every ounce of me wanted to slam in, to fuck her hard and fast, to leave us both panting and boneless in the aftermath.
But she would be embarrassed after.
So I slipped inside her. I fucked her slowly at first, careful not to knock the bed around.
Even so, though, the need for release worked its way through Katie's system, making her whimpering noises become louder.
My hand moved down, grabbing the back of her neck, pressing her face further into the bed fabrics, muffling her noises as I fucked her faster, driving her up, pushing her over, feeling her pussy spasm around me as the comforter swallowed up her cries.
I slammed deep, coming with a hiss.
Afterward, Katie slipped forward, rolling onto her side, shooting me a devilish little smile.
"Okay. I will run out and get the ingredients," she said, making a surprised chuckle move through me.
"That's all I'm asking," I told her, slapping her ass.
"What kind do you want?"
"All of them," I told her, pulling my pants back up, going in my closet to grab some clothes for the day.
"Greedy."
"Mmhmm," I agreed. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Then I will drive you home. You're thinking about going into work late, aren't you?" I asked, watching her gears turning.
"Just for a couple hours. I have been leaving earlier lately."
"Alright, I'll be quick," I agreed.
The selfish part of me wanted to get to her place and take her to bed all day. The other part knew she had responsibilities. So did I. Work as well, and whatever Atlas was going to need from me.
There would be time for bed later.
And then, hopefully, crêpes.
EPILOGUE
Kate - 2 weeks
"It's gonna be alright," Rush assured me, his hand grabbing my thigh in the car, putting a stop to the tap-tap-tapping I was doing.
Nervous.
I was nervous.
It wasn't a new sensation to me by any means, but the scenario was.
I was going to meet this family.
Sure, I'd met Fee. And Kingston. And even Atlas. But I hadn't met the rest. And I hadn't met his parental figures—Helen and Charlie—either.
The loan sharks.
Fiona had been a lot less subtle when explaining the whole family dynamic to me. I guess, being a member of the family for longer, she felt entitled to spill their secrets more than Rush did.
Charlie and Helen might have, on the surface, looked like fine, upstanding citizens who had their hands in many legitimate businesses and even some charities. But under the surface, there was a network of criminal activity spanning back to the eighties. When Charlie had started his loan shark operation after stealing the daughter of his former boss—a cocaine kingpin.
Their sons had been in the business as well. Until Hunter ran off to pursue tattooing in New York—and meeting and falling for Fee. And then, eventually, Eli found himself abruptly out of the business as well, leaving mostly Shane and Mark doing the dirty work, and Ryan handling the books.
So, not only was I going to meet the sort-of in-laws, but I was going to meet the loan-sharking in-laws, their kneecap-breaking children and their whole slew of grandchildren.
"I should have reasoned with Helen to get your another week," Rush said, and I found his borderline—if not outright—fear of the Mallick matriarch charming. He was like a little boy afraid of getting his hand caught in the cookie jar.
I felt like that said good things about Rush, but I had no idea what it said about Helen.
Was she a harsh, hard woman? Would she be nit-picky about the women who joined the lives of the men she saw as adopted children?
Would she weigh and measure and find me wanting?
My ex had a mother, but no other family. And I guess the experience of having her in my life had been somewhat traumatizing. Because she was one of those moms who thought her underachieving, lazy, selfish son walked on water, and no woman would ever be good enough for him.
I didn't keep the house clean enough.
I didn't cook him his favorite foods.
I didn't give him children.
Children he did not want, I might add. But changing that mindset was somehow on me.
How could I convince him to want a child when he was too busy being one himself?
I spent every holiday with my stomach in knots over having to go to her house. Or, worse yet, have her come to mine. And because my mother was a mama bear in her own right, the two of them had gotten nearly into a fistfight one Christmas, making it so we had to split every holiday after into shifts. So I never had someone on my side.
I guess it never occurred to me during my marriage that my husband should have always been on my side.
"What are you thinking?" Rush asked, glancing over at me when we stopped at a red light. "The whole truth, not the half story," he clarified, knowing I had a tendency to sugar-coat things, to tip-toe around the true issues.
"I was just thinking about how my ex's mother used to treat me badly, and how he never said anything to try to stop it."
"We've established he's a dick," Rush agreed. "But I'm figuring this has less to do with him and more to do with you being worried about meeting Helen. I won't lie to you. If she thinks you're not the one, she probably won't be shy in saying that. That said, no one has ever brought someone serious to one of her dinners and had Helen say anything angsty. And beside that, I can't think of a single world where someone would talk shit about my woman in front of me, and I would stand there like a pussy and say nothing. That's not how this works. I know we're new, baby," he went on, giving my thigh another squeeze, "so I get why you don't just know this shit already. But it is my plan to get you to that level of trust in me."
"I trust you," I insisted. I did, too. Possibly more than I trusted anyone except my mother.
Maybe a big part of that was his ability to communicate his needs clearly, never sulking in a bad mood, refusing to tell me what was on his mind. I always knew where I stood with him. That sense of balance was refreshing. And it made it impossible to feel like the foundations were shaky, never forcing me into a panic mode.
The other part was likely his ability to read me, to accept me with all my many flaws. And even, not to see them as flaws at all.
"Never had to fight my own brain day in and day out, baby," he'd told me one night in bed. "That's got to be the most gangsta shit ever."
"It's going to be loud," he warned me again as we pulled up to the house, a sprawling home on lush green grounds, a few straggling yellow and red leaves littering the driveway and front walk, crunching under our feet as we got out of the car.
I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I would be fine. But I learned not to make promises I couldn't keep when it came to how a situation was going to impact my mental health.
I hoped it would be fine, that I would find the racket charming and homey. But I also knew there was the potential for it to overwhelm me, to stress me out. I might need to excuse myself to the bathroom or the back porch to take a few calming breaths, get myself back together before I went into the thick of it ag
ain.
I figured this family would be understanding.
They'd welcomed Ryan's wife, Dusty, with open arms, never seeming to judge her for her anxiety issues.
"Helen's going to like that you cook," he added, squeezing my hand as we made it to the back door just as it burst open, sending a group of kids flying out, knocking into us as they squealed.
"Trial by fire," Rush told me, smiling. "It will be quieter now. There are more older kids right now than younger ones. They'll probably be inside sulking that Helen won't let them fuck around on their phones during Sunday dinner."
"There she is. The Crêpe Queen!" Atlas declared as soon as we moved into the living room, beaming over at me, light, carefree. I'd forced Rush to drop him off some extra crêpes when I'd made Rush his entire smorgasbord of them.
He'd paid me back by making a drawing of a six-hundred-pound him, surrounded by piles of empty plates.
Apparently, landscapes weren't his only forte.
I kept the picture, mostly because Rush wanted to take it and get it shrunk down to fit on a birthday card to give back to him next year.
I didn't pretend to understand brotherly love, but it seemed to have a lot to do with teasing the hell out of one another.
"Hey!" a voice called, coming into the room with multi-colored hair and tattoos. "How's the vibrator?" she asked, making Rush glance over at me, brows raised, as Atlas tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.
"I, uhm, what?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Fee. She gave you the vibe, right? That's a good one. I mean it has nothing on the little butterfly one you can wear hands-free, but it's good."
"I, ah, I haven't tried it," I told her, feeling my face heat up.
"Oh, that's right. You're in the 'oh your dick is as good as any battery-operated device' stage still, right?" she asked, whacking Rush on the arm.
"This is Peyton, in case that wasn't infinitely clear already," Rush introduced the woman whose reputation preceded her. "Peyton, Katie."
"Yep. And she's ours now," Peyton said, reaching out to grab my free arm, pulling me away from Rush. "Go on. The guys are checking out Charlie's new TV."
With that, I was pulled along with Peyton as Rush shot me an apologetic look.
He'd warned me they would take me. It sounded downright cult-ish when he'd first said it. The reality was, I was pulled through to the kitchen where all the women were gathered around. Some stood at the oversize island, breaking green beans or slicing up broccoli. Others were sitting at the table, making desserts, sugar and flour all over the table, the floor, and themselves.
Others still were in front of the stove, stirring and checking inside.
"Kate!" Fiona greeted, waving a piece of lettuce on me. "They're letting me help," she declared. "I'm considering screwing it up, so I can continue my long streak of doing nothing but providing colorful commentary. Guys, this is Kate," she said, pulling me toward her side and away from Peyton who barely seemed to notice as she went to pour herself a glass of wine.
"And Kate, this is," she started, sucking in a deep breath. "Peyton, Autumn, Savvy, Lea, Scotti, Jamie, Dusty, and, of course, Helen. Oh, and my minions over there. Becca, Izzy, and Mayla. That's a lot of names. No one expects you to remember everyone—"
"I think I know of everyone but Jamie," I admitted, looking over at the woman with the short hair, wearing a gray and blue flannel.
"Jamie. Peyton and Savvy's best friend," Fiona supplied.
"Hi," I said, giving her a smile.
"So... Rush has been talking about us, huh?" Peyton asked. "What did he say about me?"
"Ah, he said a lot of things about you," I admitted, smiling a bit at the stories.
"All bad, I hope," she said, shooting me a wink.
"What did he say about me?" another voice asked, making me turn to find the Mallick matriarch standing there. The oldest woman in the room, she somehow also managed to be the most striking. Tall, fit, with beautiful bone structure and long, thick hair, she carried herself with the bearing of a queen. But one who had seen battles herself.
She was even more intimidating in person than I had made her up to be in my head. Which was an impressive feat.
"That you took him and his siblings in like your own kids. And that you are a great cook. And that you would tell me to my face if you don't like me."
"Well then," Helen said, lips twitching. "There you have it. It's nice to meet you, Kate. Atlas has been raving about your baking skills since he started crashing in our basement two days ago. Apparently, they are life-changing. So I guess we should stick you on desserts with Dusty and Becca," she said, waving me toward the table.
I imagined that it had been mentioned that I cooked, not just bake, so I was curious if Helen decided to put me with Dusty and her granddaughter because she thought they would be easier transitions for me into this crazy kitchen world they created.
Even when the women weren't actively speaking, they were loud. Chopping, opening and closing cabinets, putting baking trays on the counter, shuffling pots and pans together.
It was a lot for my system that was used to a certain amount of quiet.
"I like your dress," Becca declared, giving me a warm smile.
"Thanks. Fiona picked it out. I think she's taking it upon herself to completely redo my wardrobe. Too many sweaters and comfy pants, she says."
"She'll back off if you ever get pregnant. She claims she went into a 'frump mode,'" Dusty told me, giving me a warm smile. "Though I have yet to see any evidence to support that. Helen actually has a picture of her with a two-month-old Becca on her hip wearing a wrap dress and five-inch heels."
"Assuming you want kids," Becca was quick to add. "And it's totally fine if you don't. This family spawns like squid, but that's not everyone's path."
"I always wanted kids. Well, at least one. I never really considered beyond that. But I wanted them. It was just never in the cards."
"You're still young enough," Dusty said, shrugging. "Rush would be a great dad. Except, maybe, I wouldn't let him teach a kid to drive," she said, smiling.
""Don't tell Mom, but Uncle Rush was who actually taught me to drive," Becca declared, eyes mischievous. "She and Dad think they taught me it all on the backroads at ten and two with no music on. Uncle Rush took me out in that old car of his, right onto the parkway, with the music thumping. I failed the test twice before him. But then after two lessons with Uncle Rush, I passed."
"You passed what?" Fiona asked, looking over.
"Oh, one of those online quizzes about old 90s TV shows."
"I'm mildly concerned about how well you told that lie," Dusty told her niece, brow raised.
"Is it really a lie when the truth is going to come out eventually?" Becca asked. "No one gets to keep any secrets in this family."
"That's true," Lea said, moving over toward the table, grabbing one of the apples out of the bowl next to Dusty. "If you have any deep, dark secrets, now is the time to air them."
I felt my stomach bottom out at that, thinking of how humiliating it would be if they all learned how I'd been lonely and horny and desperate enough to call Rush's phone sex line."
"I know her secret!" Fee declared, waving a knife with tomato guts on it at me, making that stomach thing even more overwhelming. "She reads smutty little sex books," she said, making a wave of relief course through me.
"Oh, I have some books for you then," Peyton said, beaming.
"Don't trust her," Autumn, her sister, declared. "They're not normal sex books. They're horror-porn sex books."
"That sounded mighty judgy for the owner of a sex store," Peyton shot back.
The food prep went much like that, the women sharing stories, both old and new, occasionally bringing me into the fold, but never in too big of a way, keeping it all very casual.
I was starting to think there would be no issue.
That is until all the food was brought and lined up on the sideboards in the dining room. And the men and kids filed in.
My heartbeat tripped into overdrive as a band of tightness pressed against my throat, making it hard to breathe.
Hugging the walls, I made my way toward the back of the house, opening the door to the back porch, and slipping outside.
"You found my hiding spot," a voice said at my side, making my overwrought body jolt as a yelp escaped me. "Sorry," Dusty said, giving me a smile. "I come out here sometimes," she said, shrugging. "When it gets loud and crazy and I can't take it."
"I'll go find another spot," I told her, feeling bad for interrupting.
"No. No, come sit," she said, kicking out the chair across from her at the table. "It gets better," she told me as I sat down. "After you get used to it. But I won't lie to you and say it all goes away. It doesn't. Obviously," she said, waving a hand at herself. "The initial food line is always the worst for me for some reason."
"Yeah, that's what did me in," I agreed, feeling better that I had someone to talk to about it who wouldn't be offended.
"They're good with it, you know," Dusty went on. "When we go back in, they will act like nothing happened. No scenes to worry about. Or anyone asking if everything is alright. They just go with the flow. I was," she started, letting out a little humorless laugh, "I was a real wreck when I first met Ryan. Completely agoraphobic. Hadn't left my apartment in ages. You can imagine how the Mallick clan terrified me back then. Though, there were fewer of them. There are bound to be a lot of little kids again soon with all the Rivers boys finally settling down. And that can sometimes get bad too, if you're not used to it. I mean, if you end up having kids, you'll get used to that kind of crazy fast enough. I used to be a teacher, but even so, the kids running and squealing was a hard adjustment at first."
"My family is really just my mom and me. So all of this is very new to me."
"It's overwhelming, but it is also amazing. I mean, the holidays? There's nothing like it. And they are totally going to invite your mom. It will be one, big, happy family. But if you take any meds, you might want to make sure your script is full around Thanksgiving and Christmas. The cold sucks, but it helps, right?" she asked when a shiver racked my system.
Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3) Page 18
