Chapter 7 #2
I had thought that domesticity would kill my allure, that seeing me entrenched in his life would make me less than hot.
But that was not the case. Seeing me in the kitchen at the end of the day, finding me in the backyard watering the lawn, watching me throw the ball for the dog, all those things made the man wild for me.
He loved it. And it was amazing. We were a family, one I had never dared to hope I’d have.
I had gradually reconciled the what-made-a-man-a-man part with who I was.
Because I was the center of everything. Without me, Cy was different, not the man he was now, warm and loving and free.
Without me, the boys didn’t feel protected and grounded and safe.
Without me, Lyn didn’t have a wall to lean on, someone who had her back no matter what.
They were all a blessing, especially Cy, but I mattered too, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
“Oh dear God, what is that?” Cy whimpered beside me, bringing me back from my roaming thoughts to the here and now of the Easter program.
“It’s a xylophone,” I informed him.
“A what?” Lyn whispered from the other side of me.
I rolled my eyes. “Micah plays the xylophone and sings. Where have you people been?”
“Are you kidding me?” Lyn poked me in the arm.
“It’s loud too,” Tristan informed his uncle from the other side of him, putting his hands over his ears. “That’s why Weber makes him practice in the garage.”
“That’s why he’s been in the garage?” Cy asked me.
I nodded as the first notes on the xylophone were struck.
The microphone was right there, right where the resounding noise could travel all the way through the crowd and run straight up your spine to the center of your brain.
The lady in front of us said ohmygod, but not in a good way.
The man behind me jolted and kicked my chair. “Sorry,” he gasped, startled.
Lyn started giggling, Pip climbed out of his seat and into my lap, and Cy turned to me like it was all my fault.
“What?”
“Are you kidding?” He was horrified. “This could damage my cerebral cortex.”
I shook my head. “Probably not.”
“I’m sorry, when did you get your medical degree?”
“I live with a doctor.” I waggled my eyebrows. “You pick up a bit.”
Another chord was struck.
“This is torture,” Cy whimpered.
“It’s only for the first three songs. Then they switch to maracas.”
He was stunned.
I made sure Micah saw me when he looked up, that he saw me smile. The kid had to be supported, for crissakes.
Before New Year’s, we were all having dinner together, and Micah had asked Cy to please pass the mashed potatoes.
And Cy had. We made no event of it, and when we made the trip up to see his parents on the first day of the year, having seen them at Christmas a week before, they were shocked to hear him talking like it was no big deal, not speaking any louder or faster or even more, but just like he used to.
His life was settled. If he wasn’t at school or at an activity or with his mother, he was with me.
I wasn’t going to die on him, and neither was his mother or his uncle.
He had faith in all of us to stick around.
His father was gone, but the man had been too busy to spend much time with his kids—busy in more ways than one, as it turned out—and the sad part was that Micah didn’t miss what he hadn’t ever had.
He didn’t miss the relationship with his father, didn’t mourn the man’s absence.
None of the boys did. They didn’t even ask after him, which made me think even worse of the man.
I did hope he was happy living in Vegas, though, and I, like Lyn, wished he’d remain there and have a good life.
Ours was perfect; we didn’t need to begrudge him his.
The tap on my shoulder brought me from my thoughts. Turning, I saw the very pained-looking but beautifully dressed and accessorized mother of one of Micah’s classmates. “Ma’am?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt. Did you say only two songs like this, or two more and then the maracas?”
“Two more after this, then the maracas.”
She winced. “Thank you. Aren’t you Micah’s nanny?”
“Yes, ma’am, and you’re Kellie’s mom.”
“Yes.” She tried to smile at me.
“She plays a mean ukulele. I heard her practicing yesterday.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She was trying to hold on to her smile, her forced cheerfulness. “I forgot there’s that too. Thank you.”
I nodded and turned back around as a hand slipped into mine. Looking over at Cy, I found him smiling at me.
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I love you back.”
“I’m still going to kill you for not warning me about the xylophone,” he moaned as a wrong note was gonged. It was really loud, and his eyes got huge.
“That was cute there, Doc.”
He growled under his breath.
Two hours and fifteen minutes later, after the last percussion and vocal interpretation, everyone wanted to know why the Easter program had xylophones, maracas, bongo drums, and ukuleles anyway.
“It’s about experiencing and appreciating different cultures and their musical interpretations and gifts,” I explained.
“It’s what?” Cy asked as some of the other parents squinted at me.
“World music. You need to open your mind.”
He was looking at me like I’d grown another head.
“Oh, Mr. Yates.” Micah’s art teacher, who shared a classroom with the music teacher, was beaming at me. “Bravo! That’s it exactly. We must all expand our minds, breathe outside our own cultural boxes.”
“Our own what?” Cy tried again.
“I know Becky’s just thrilled to have such phenomenal parental support in you,” she gushed to one of the parents, and Lyn rolled her eyes.
Micah came charging across the room then, in his suit and tie, and flung himself into my outstretched arms. He hugged me tight, arms around my neck, and squeezed.
“You were so good, buddy.” I patted his back, feeling his little hand in my hair, the other still holding tight. He inhaled me then, which was his new habit. Apparently I had a smell he liked.
“I saw you, Weber. I can always see you, so I wasn’t scared.”
“You’ll always be able to see me.”
His sigh was long. It seemed I was quite a comfort to a six-and-a-half-year-old.
Later that evening, as I hung up my tie and my suit jacket, arms wrapped around me from behind. There were lips on the side of my neck as well.
“Aren’t you supposed to be making popcorn?” I asked him.
“You’re complaining?”
“No, sir.” I took a breath, closing my eyes, savoring the feel of his hard body against mine, his hands on my hips, and the soft whimper of need from the back of his throat. “I would just prefer not to be interrupted, is all.”
“We won’t be,” he promised. “The door is locked, and Lyn is taking care of the popcorn and the movie. We can stay in here all night.”
“What brought this on?” I turned in his arms, looked at him as his hands went to the buttons on my shirt.
“You’re leaving me.”
“Yeah, for three whole days.” I chuckled. “The soccer camp is done Saturday afternoon. We’ll be back Saturday night so we can be here for Easter Sunday.”
“Still.” He opened my shirt and stepped into me, plastering his bare upper body to my chest, to my skin. “It’s the first time since we said our vows.”
“I’ll be back before you know it,” I told him, my hand under his chin, tipping it up so I could see his eyes. “But so you know, I’ll miss you too, darlin’.”
“Watching you and Micah tonight… It was beautiful, Web. All three boys love you so much, and, I mean, as long as they have you and their mother…” He trailed off.
“You know who I need?” I smoothed a hand over the front of his dress slacks, over the hard bulge of him, enjoying the strangled whine so full of raw, aching desire. “Would you like to guess?”
“No, I wasn’t— Web, I wasn’t fishing or— God.”
I had pressed my groin to his, and all the fight went right out of him.
“Please, Web. I need you.”
I dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Jesus, just watching you go down in front of me could make me come.”
He had already ditched his shirt, which was nice because I loved kissing across the rippling, chiseled planes of his abdomen and touching the sleek golden skin. The man was a work of art, and he belonged to me.
Suddenly ravenous for him, I unbuckled his belt, got it loose, then made short work of his pants, the clasp and zipper. When I shoved his slacks and briefs down together, he gasped as his hard, seeping cock sprang free.
“I want you to suck my dick, and then before I come, I want you inside me.”
I was making no promises as I licked his cock from balls to the wide mushroom head.
I loved the length of him, how thick he was, and most of all, how he tasted.
As I took him down the back of my throat and his hand fisted possessively in my hair, I doubted he’d be able to make demands and stick to them.
“Please, Web…like you’ll die without me, like you need me…”
I could read him so easily. He thought the puzzle could function without him. That the boys and me and Lyn could possibly fit together without him in the picture.
“Now who doesn’t know what he’s worth,” I growled before attacking him, sucking hard, laving every inch of his beautiful cock, using my tongue, my teeth, and making the suction almost more than he could bear. I would worship him so he’d know he was everything.
“Weber.” He was panting, tugging on my hair, writhing in front of me. “I need… I have all the power at…don’t want any…just want you.”