Chapter 47
car talk
Liam
Ayla’s right, though I’ll never tell her that. Following up on the idea of how and when Briggs Barnett came into my life and business is a good idea. It requires equipment I have at home, though, and my sister is being a beast about my staying here.
I won’t argue for a couple of reasons. The first is Corinne can cook and make it look easy putting multiple courses on a table, hot and ready. But also, the woman can bake, and not things I want to scrape off my tongue with a metal scrub brush.
When I finally got the brownies out of my saddlebags, they were rocks. Not moldy. Not soft, but petrified. How is that even possible?
Corinne, though, has this delicate tart with fresh fruit and some buttery, flaky crust that makes my knees weak. I hope it’s not considered cheating to pop over here for pastries anytime Lorien gets the hankering to bake.
But, primary, and the real reason I’m still here, is my sister. I know I sound like a mush, but Ayla is worried, and since the last time it was Cian, I’ll oblige.
“Ayla-girl, real talk?”
My sister swallows and wipes her fingers on the napkin in her lap. “About what?” She lifts her chin, but fusses over the cuticle on her right thumb.
Her answer is bravado. Her body language is concern.
Christian pushes his chair back from the table, removing Sophia from her carrier and folding her into his arms.
“Have you decided when you want to go to the cops about Dad?”
Her eyes flit from me to Christian to the baby in his arms, before they fall to her hands in her lap. She takes a deep breath. “It will devastate Mom.”
I nod.
“You know it will break her, and that stress isn’t good for her condition.”
“It will break her. It won’t kill her.”
“It’s terrible to be in this position.”
“Same,” her husband puts in.
She looks from him to me as I continue, “I don’t want to put it on you. It’s not about it being all your decision. We’ve all agreed. But your case is the one that matters. What he did to you—”
The sound of Christian grinding his teeth stops my sentence. He makes no excuse but doesn’t say anything more.
“I have little to add to anything legal. He’s an ass, and I hate him, but that’s not illegal.
” I gesture to her temple where the shaved patch has long since grown out and covered the scar she’ll always have from that day on the ridge.
“But that moment. It’s criminal. And the only reason he isn’t paying the price is your—”
“Cowardice?” She rubs her temple. “Are you going to victim-shame and say it’s my fault?”
“I was going to say kindness. And you know me better than that. Your love for Mom is the only reason you haven’t made a move. Am I right?”
She exhales a sharp breath. “Sorry, Li. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I didn’t, but nor did you deserve anything that happened to you. The question is how do we support you. What do you need?”
The fact that Christian stayed silent during this conversation is nothing short of jaw dropping.
She closes her eyes and when she opens them, I see the resolve I’ve always known in her. The woman will find a way, but more times than not, make a way. “I need you and Ci to go see Mom with me.”
“Sure. When?”
“Tomorrow. This needs to be over and done with.”
Christian’s exhale could lift the flatware off the table, such is his relief.
“I’ll get with Cian. We’ll go after coffee.”
I head upstairs after dinner. Not because I don’t want to be social, but because everything in my brother-in-law is tense. He needs his wife by his side. He needs his daughter in his arms. He needs to wake from this nightmare.
I could go home, but there’s nothing there for me right now aside from my computer, and that can wait until after seeing Mom tomorrow.
Poe is feeding like a champ. Her little belly is soft and full, and her verbal frustrations have waned a bit.
My sister has a Belgian Malinois. Cian has a mutt.
I kind of assumed at some point later in life, when the travel slowed or when the need to get gone in a moment’s notice had dissipated, I’d have a dog.
Maybe a German Shepherd or something along those lines.
Something smart, fearsome, that looks intimidating and sounds even worse.
I’m carrying a kitten in a hoodie and nursing it with a syringe smaller than the size of a baby bottle. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my balls were gone. But I know better, because I felt them respond to Lorien’s hitched breaths and soft voice.
Tonight, though, can’t come soon enough, and not because I won’t still be in my sister’s guest room, giving her peace of mind, but because I have plans for Lorien.
Tonight is four hours later when I’m back in Ayla’s guest room.
Me: Are you around?
It takes a minute before she responds.
Wifey: I’m here.
Me: Has it been a good trip?
Wifey: Good, great, terrible, weird. You name it, I’ve experienced it.
I want to hear about the black eye, but not right now. I don’t want to rage right now.
Me: And you got time with your brother?
My phone rings, and she made that happen. Fuck yeah.
“Hey, Wifey.”
“Hey.” Her voice is small, but it goes straight to my dick.
“You haven’t enjoyed your trip?”
“I didn’t say that. Exactly.”
“What did you mean then?”
“Strider is good. That’s huge. That was the point of the weekend, but where things could go awry otherwise, they did.”
“Like?”
“Mom’s broken arm. Sam getting married. There were no segways. My black eye was the least of everything.”
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow when I pick you up. Your sister got married and didn’t tell you?”
She sighs. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, though now the ride home is sounding dreadful, but no, yesterday morning.”
“Tell me something great that happened.”
“I stood up for myself with the mean girl and did what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it even if it wasn’t proper.”
“I’m proud of you, baby.”
There’s an audible gulp. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“Has your family gone to bed?” I shift until I’m reclining on the mattress. Nothing I do gets me comfortable, but some things are better than others.
Her voice is nearly a whisper as she replies. “Yes.”
“Are they asleep?”
“Yes, or at least I assume so.” This one is quieter.
“So, it’s just you and me?”
“Unless you have someone with you at home.”
“I’m at Ayla’s, but I’m upstairs for the night.”
“Do you sleep over there often?”
“We’ll add that to the car talk. Now, I want to hear you come.”
The gasp from the other end of the line is immediately followed by a choke and a cough. She sputters and finds her breath as I manage not to laugh out loud. I also go a little caveman knowing, if this is her reaction, that I’ll be her first. I damn well better fucking be.
“Lorien?”
She coughs lightly. “Yeah.” Her voice is scratchy.
“Have you never had phone sex before?”
“No?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Fine. I don’t always like being inexperienced, okay? I mean, statistically, I can’t have done everything in life by now, but I don’t want to always be on the back foot. Just because you’re older and have had more— Well, I’m just saying.”
My lips twitch, but I keep my voice steady. “Are you struggling to say the word sex?”
“I’m not in the mood anymore,” she huffs.
My chuckle vibrates in the room and startles Poe who gives me the side-eye before relaxing again.
“I think, it’s not that you’re not in the mood, it’s that you’re wound too tight and need a release. Do you need to come, baby?”
Her ragged breaths meet my ears, and blood rushes to my cock.
“Does that greedy pussy need some attention so it can feel good?”
I wait and wait, then wait some more. The silence stretches but I refuse to fill it.
“Yes.” It’s quiet but raw.
I fist my cock, thumbing the barbell, and drop my voice. “Open your thighs.”
More silence aside from the sound of fabric rustling.
“Did you do it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I want you to tell me.”
She doesn’t agree, but I’ll assume her acquiescence.
“What color are your panties?”
“Pink with red lace,” she says breathily.
Fuck me. Fuck me, that’s hot.
“Slide your hand inside those pretty panties and finger your clit.”
There’s a gasp, but I’d swear it was pleasure and not embarrassment.
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Are you wet for me?”
There’s a pause. “Yes.” This one is quieter, like the admission was hard on her.
“Love that.” My cock is straining under my fist. “I’m hot and hard thinking about your tight, wet pussy.”
She gasps. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. You know what you do to me.”
“Oh.”
Oh?
“Are you rubbing your clit?”
“Yes.”
“Do it faster.”
A low moan comes through the phone. It’s not the sound of her orgasm, but it is pleasure.
“Slow down now, but go harder, press deeper.”
“Oohh.”
“Do you wish that was my finger? Or do you wish that was my tongue?”
“I…” She says nothing further.
“Baby, do you wish it was my tongue between your legs, sucking your hot, swollen clit between my lips?”
“Yesss.” That one is stretched out into a sound that nearly has me coming.
“Tomorrow night. I’ll eat you until you’re limp, okay? Tonight, you need to stroke that little pearl faster and harder. I want to come to the sound of your orgasm.”
“Are you…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Touching yourself?”
I jerk and strain and realize too late that my shoulder’s going to scream, and not with pleasure, when I come. “Oh yeah. I wish you were here. My dick wishes it could play deep in your greedy, wet pussy. I’m close. Are you close?”
“Yeah, I just need a few more—” I hear it now. The hitch, the pause, the whimper. “Ohh.”
I need three more strokes. They’re tight and quick, and I release with a groan, “Lorien.”
I’m sticky and panting and wait for her to come down from that high.
But I notice…
I notice she doesn’t cry out for me.
I notice that she doesn’t say my name.