Chapter 57 Kitty
FIFTY-SEVEN
KITTY
“God, you guys are so noisy.” Neev’s eyes gleamed. “I love it.”
Raisin mock-retched, but I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “Jealous?”
Neev snorted. “Fighting fire with fire, I like that more. Somehow, Stan’s made you sassier.”
Raisin scowled at us both. “Don’t be a bitch, Kitty.”
“It’s in her nature. She can’t help it.”
“I can help it, Neev,” I ranted. “I just won’t take Raisin’s shit.”
“She’s finally accepted that you weren’t lying about how long you’ve known Stan.”
“Oh, at last!” I prodded her shoulder. “I mean, I’d get it if you were Cade or Lucas. Of course I’d lie to them. But why would I lie to you two?”
Raisin sank onto my sofa. “I don’t know.”
I cut Neev a look, who shrugged as she dragged the ottoman over to the couch so she could prop up her legs while she devoured the cottage pie Ma had brought us to eat.
“What are you three talking about?” Ma stuck her head around the door. “You’re not still going on about the boy, are you, Raisin?”
The boy.
And she actually liked Stan. Especially after I’d told him to give her that orchid of Storm’s as if it were from him.
God only knew what she’d call him if she didn’t.
We hadn’t graduated to ‘Ma,’ but I thought she was holding out on a wedding ring. She had to be. The orchid had had her in tears and she’d yet to concede defeat.
“No, she’s finally realized that I wouldn’t lie to her.”
Ma’s nod was loaded with approval. “What have I told you? You girls stick together.” She waded out with two dishes, one she shoved at me and the other she settled on her knee as she sank onto the armchair she always used when she visited.
“Now, Kitty, I have to say… you need to get some kind of noise canceling thingies here. Those foam squares you stick on the wall?”
I sputtered as Neev squawked with laughter and Raisin giggled into her mashed potato.
“What?” Ma blustered. “I have ears and I’ve seen the YouTube. You know the squares I’m talking about. Neev, help your mother.”
“It’s soundproofing, Ma.”
“That’s it.” She clicked her fingers. “Especially in the kitchen.”
Raisin gagged. “Please tell me you sprayed Lysol on the counters before you dished out up here, Ma!”
Ma tapped her nose. “It’s good to know the boy can use his penis—”
“MOTHER!” I shrieked, but I shattered into laughter, sagging into the cushions so hard that gravy nearly spilled everywhere.
Raisin caught my dish before a calamity could unfold. “They’re right. You’re noisy as fuck.”
“Were you always this loud, child?” Ma inquired, her tone prim. “Or does he just have superpowers?”
“My god, can we not talk about this?!”
Neev, because she was a demon, cackled. “I think we should talk about it all night. Especially as it’ll be more entertaining than whatever bullshit show Raisin’s picked for us tonight.”
“Fuck off. The documentary looks interesting!”
Neev gagged. “Wait until it’s my turn to pick again. Documentary, my ass!”
“Girls!” Ma screeched. “No fighting.”
As my sisters glowered at one another and I tried to disappear into thin air, the sound of a key in the door grated overly loud in the room.
“You gave him a key?” Neev whispered.
“He lives here! What was I supposed to do? Always answer the door?”
Ma sucked in a breath. “He lives here?!”
“Please let Lucas find out when I’m there,” Raisin drawled before shoveling down a large bite of cottage pie.
Stan’s eyes widened a touch at the sight of us, but I noticed he zeroed in on our dishes.
Ma, also noticing this, beamed at him. “There’s plenty in the kitchen, boy.”
“Really?” he asked, tone hopeful.
“Go and fix yourself a plate.”
Stan shifted around the couch to press a kiss to the top of my head, which had me melting into the cushions for a different reason.
Neev cooed, “He’s got it soooo bad.”
“As he should,” Ma declared. “Though, you two shouldn’t be living together without a ring on that finger, my girl.”
“Ma! It’s the twenty-first century!”
“Oh, she has a ring,” Neev teased, snagging my left hand and waggling it until I yanked it free of her hold.
“It isn’t official. You don’t give away the milk or he won’t want the cow,” Ma said sourly.
“Did you just compare me to a cow?”
“You know what I mean. If I were twenty years younger, I’d be giving away my milk too.”
“MOTHER!” I shrieked again, but she only smiled as she continued forking up her own dinner.
When Stan strolled in, the casserole dish in his hand as he ate straight from it, Ma boasted, “Growing boys need food.”
Stan’s smile was sheepish. “I haven’t eaten since four.”
“It’s six,” Raisin said dryly.
Ma tutted. “Let the boy eat.”
“I’ll leave you girls to it,” he countered with a grin as he strolled toward the bedroom.
“You don’t have to,” Neev called out. “We’re only watching TV.”
“I’d be a fool to disturb a ritual,” he replied. “Enjoy and pretend I’m not here.”
As we glanced between each other, the sound of the TV in my, our, bedroom came on.
“You didn’t tell him we were gathering tonight?” Ma inquired.
“Nah. We haven’t done it since… everything.” I shrugged. “I forgot. It’s a learning curve too.”
“Living with someone is. You girls haven’t reached that phase with anyone yet, but it’s a steep transition and requires a lot of wine and chocolate to ensure patience.” Ma pointed at the TV. “Go on then. Start the damn documentary so we can get it over with.”
Raisin grumbled but did as requested.
Dessert and a bathroom break weren’t the only interruptions, not when Neev spent most of her time talking over the docu as she rated my guards’ hotness out of five.
Raisin ended up switching on Passion Island, a cooking show where contestants had to make their date a meal before said date picked a ‘winner’ who he’d take away on a two-day vacation to Cancún.
Ma didn’t notice our wide-eyed glances at that.
The great girls’ night was even better knowing that Stan lived here. That he’d had no problem with it. That he didn’t huff about not knowing that my night was being taken over.
But then… why would he huff?
He was a family man. He cherished family.
And I was the girl version.
In this, we gelled perfectly.
He only laughed when he stepped out a few times to get a drink and for some ice cream, awwing one time when a contestant started sobbing because her soufflé sank.
Just before midnight, my sisters and Ma disappeared to their own apartments. I slipped into my bedroom and found him in bed, leaning against the headrest, a notepad on his lap and a whole lot of chest on display.
Damn, my man had muscles.
And those tattoos…
I wasn’t sure why he had flowers inked on his skin, but he totally rocked it. They weren’t at all feminine and somehow amped up his own masculinity—because they proved his inherent lack of fucks to give.
I’d traced those lines and knew I’d trace them for the rest of my life as I went to sleep. Even better, he wore my lines. And my bite.
They remained pink and raw-looking, much as my ink was, but eventually, they’d be physical claims, and I couldn’t wait for the moment I could stroke them and taste them—literal proof that he was mine.
Already touched by the notion, as well as grateful, I grabbed the A&D ointment and began our nightly ritual of tending to one another’s ink. “Busy?”
He dropped the pen so he could stretch before snagging the tube from my hand. “Nah. I’m jotting down some notes.”
“About?” I asked around a shiver as the cool salve and his fingers attacked my nerve endings.
“I had an idea for a formula that could counter Red.”
Intrigued, I tipped my head down to study his notes. “I thought you were trying to improve the formula?”
“That too, but I’m brainstorming on that one.”
His ‘idea’ had filled dozens of pages.
“You’ve been working on this all night?”
“Your ma’s shepherd’s pie inspired me.”
“Don’t let her hear you call it that. Cottage pie,” I corrected with a grin before I carried on analyzing his notes where I saw the idea had evolved into a working hypothesis. “How will this change Red’s pharmacodynamics?”
As he explained how this compound here would counteract this compound there and went into graphic detail about the drug, I didn’t get it until he explained how the formula affected the body.
I was so grateful I’d done my research because it prevented our discussion from being one-sided.
In fact, it deepened further as I countered with what I’d learned from seeing Red on patients in the ER. And as the monstrosity that was this drug permeated my conscience, I accepted something.
Something horrible.
Something terrible.
I was so turned on right now.
He had a cowlick from scrubbing his hand through his hair. His eyes were bright with a fire that licked at the sapiosexual genes in my body. His intelligence poured from his lips and infiltrated the strong slashes of his handwriting.
In fact, I was so done.
When molecules became the center of the discussion, I climbed onto his lap, grabbed a hold of his ears, and yanked him into a kiss.
The second our mouths met, I melted again—straight into him and not the couch this time.
He was so clever!
His smarts tripped my triggers and made me want to devour him. Stat.
I cuddled up to him, grateful I’d dragged on one of my comfy nightshirts earlier to veg with my fam because it meant that only his boxer briefs and my panties sat between us.
His hands shaped my ass as he fell into my kiss, letting me take control as I tasted him, tested him—reveled in my power over this frickin’ genius. A genius that had gone to work because I’d asked it of him. A genius that I’d leashed.
“I am so wet.” I moaned against his mouth.
I knew he had to be far gone too because he just groaned.
My panties were drenched. He had to feel it. He couldn’t not.
As I found the ridge of his dick, I squirmed until it hit the right spots and then rocked my hips as I thrust my tongue into his mouth.
He wasn’t a quiet man in the sack. I’d noticed that about him early on. He had a habit of moaning, which did things to me that should be illegal. He was verbal and he’d tumble into Sicilian, which told me I’d blown his mind so much that English was beyond him. Tonight, however, he was silent.
All heavy exhalations and deep sighs, sharp moans and long groans.
This man—he destroyed me.
And I wanted him to do it to me every night for the rest of my life.
When I whimpered, that seemed to be his breaking point. His hands no longer shaped my ass, urging me to grind into him. Instead, they lifted me higher as they hauled me against his chest.
When he spun us around on the bed, I laughed into his mouth, the sound breathless and need-filled as he maneuvered me around the mattress like I was his personal marionette.
Looming over me, he spread my legs wider, shoved my panties aside, and fucked his dick into me.
My back arched at the sudden fullness.
I sobbed as he didn’t relent, didn’t give me time to breathe. He filled me. So beautifully. He was so thick and long and my cunt swallowed up every inch of him like the greedy girl he made me.
My fingers dug into his muscles as he blanketed me, pushing me into the bed. Not letting me move. Dominating my space.
For a split second, my mind drifted.
His relentlessness reminded me of another time.
Another place.
Another man.
Then, his lips retreated and he was nipping my earlobe, rumbling, “This pussy is so perfect, Kitty. You take me. All of me. You’re so wet. You’re my downfall and my rise to glory, liunissa.”
His words brought me back to now. I had no idea why that flashback had been tripped after such a great night and when I was so ready for him, but the brain did weird shit all the time.
Maybe he sensed that my need had been quenched somewhat. Because he slowed. And instead of carrying on like my pleasure didn’t matter, he stoked it back to life.
He stoked me back to life.
It was then I realized why the trauma from that night rarely overset me—because he let me explode at him. He let me cry. He held me through the night. He tucked me into him when I had random nightmares.
He embraced my fears and my trauma and me.
I kissed him when that thought trickled through my mind.
Such acceptance was powerful.
But didn’t I accept him in return?
All the crazy, horrific shit he’d done, the mad stunts he’d pulled, the wicked sins he’d committed—I gave him a hard time about them, but I didn’t deny him.
Because he was it for me.
And I was it for him.
My fires well and truly tended and cosseted back into a blaze, I urged him into moving faster. He shifted on top of me, his bulk pressing me into the mattress, overtaking every single one of my senses. Even better, in this position, somehow, each deep thrust had him grinding against my clit.
I blew up.
Crazy fast.
Crazy strong.
Crazy us.
This mayhem was something we created together.
Something we destroyed together too.
He exploded. As much as I had.
Moaning my name, whispering it, invoking it—like it was his salvation. Like I was his salvation.
As he pumped his cum into me, overloading me with him, fucking me, making love to me, breeding me, I sagged into the bed.
Which was when I heard it.
And that was when I groaned.
“What is it?” He panted, his face smushed into the mattress.
“I think we may have to move out and into a place with soundproofing.”
He stilled. Sagged. Snickered. “Is that…?”
“My ma knocking on her ceiling with a broom? Yeah. Apparently, we’re noisy together.”
When his snickers morphed into outright laughter, I joined in.
How couldn’t I?
This was my life now.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.