Chapter 11 #2
Chuckles escape them both, but it’s Thayne that ponders, “You a daddy’s girl?”
“Uh…” my head bounces back in forth in contemplation, “no?”
“Mama’s girl?”
The action is thoughtlessly repeated. “No?”
“Question mark?” Bronny tosses over in my direction at the same time he presses pause.
“Alright, so, you don’t even ask shit anymore?” his brother laughs in disbelief. “You jus’ throw out punctation?”
“Eye roll emoji.”
“I will throw this slice of avocado at you,” Thayne threatens alongside flashing the food.
“I was more of a Big Daddy type of girl,” I announce, drawing both of their stares.
“He was my mom’s dad. Sweet. Southern. Blues musician.
Had a whole Howlin’ Wolf meets B.B. King vibe that kept him on the road and his instrument not in his case.
” The executed wink adds to the implication I’m trying not to flat out say.
“And while he wasn’t around steadily or predictably, when he was around, he saw me.
Like actual me.” Wistfulness can’t be kept out of my tone.
“You know everyone else saw M and what he could do and what barriers he could break and how far he could go and believed he would go but…Big Daddy saw me. Pulled me away from just being another face to support my brother and taught me about different types of music. Pushed me to hear them all. Encouraged me to do little things on my own. Read the book that I thought was too big for me. Wear the lime green rain boots in 100-degree heat. Eat dessert first because dinner may suck.”
Both guys laugh louder.
Warmer.
“While everyone else was focused on M…he was always focused on me. Telling me to be a star no matter what sky I decide to shine in.” I swallow the lump of tears that clumps together in my throat whenever I bring him up.
“He died when I was nine, and now that I think about it…I guess so did that reminder to be seen.” An unstoppable urge to be truly heard has me finding Thayne’s stare again. “Until you.”
This time it’s him that’s trying to choke back his emotions. “I’ll always be the one that sees you, Gillian.”
“Even better if you buy her some lime green boots,” teasingly interjects the teen.
“I’ll buy you a matchin’ pair, aye,” Jukes jeers back, abandoning his almost empty plate onto the same table.
“You know we were close to our grandpa too,” Bronny announces at the same time he tucks one hand behind his head. “He was def the dad energy for Thayne, but Thayne was def the dad vibe for me.”
Bewilderment isn’t kept out of his tone, “What?”
“Yeah,” his little brother warmly grins, “you were the one who taught me not to kiss girls too soon-”
“You were only two, you little shit.”
“Taught me not to drown in the duck pond-”
“All you had to do was stand up.”
“How to ride my bike-”
“And change a flat.”
“How to catch a football, baseball, and puck.”
“Still ain’t good at the latter.”
“And to always pour Grams that extra shot of whiskey, so when she falls asleep, leavin’ you to clean it up, you can have it ‘cause you’re never supposed to waste the good stuff.”
Loud, loveable laughter shakes Thayne’s entire frame, calling me to tuck myself into him tighter.
Curl in closer.
“Plus…” Bronny briefly pulls his lips to one side, “he was always there for me even when he wasn’t.”
My head tilts in a wordless request for more.
“Didn’t matter where in the world he physically went, he was always just one text or video or SNAP away.”
“Still am, bud,” sweetly swears Jukes as his arm drapes itself around my shoulder. “That’ll never change.”
Rather than lean into emotional moment, the young guy pulls out his phone to instantly distract himself with one swipe, “Denver needs one more for a game of touch. Can I go?”
“You goin’ for the game or for the girls?”
“Both.”
“Bronson.”
“But I’ll be responsible or whatever.”
“The ‘or whatever’ makes it less convincing,” I inform right above a whisper.
“You’ve got an hour.”
“Two?”
“Ninety minutes.” His fingers lovingly feather my shoulder. “Ninety-one and you’ll be up at six doin’ reverse lunges ‘til I feel like makin’ breakfast. Got it?”
Bronny flashes him a thumbs up prompting me to snicker, “How bad did you wanna say thumbs up emoji?”
“Pretty bad,” he admits on a chuckle. “But I didn’t!”
“Growth,” amusedly acknowledges Jukes. “You’d make the Beach Boys proud.”
A curious hum precedes me meeting his gaze. “Not sure I know that one.”
“Not a favorite.”
“Can we keep the epi paused ‘til I get back though?” Bronny frantically sends a text accepting the invite. “I need to know if Noelle’s dad is really the scuba instructor from Honduras or if bro was lyin’ to the priest in the confessional.”
Giggles are attached to my nodding. “We’ll um…watch something else while you’re gone.”
Or better yet do something else.
As if he can hear the words floating around in the back of my mind, Jukes wets his lips.
Shifts his hips.
Lets his thumb lightly stroke the side of my neck.
The very edge of my face.
“Legends,” praises the teen at the same time he rushes out of his seat to find his shoes.
Our stares drift towards one another’s again, clearly anxious for the overdue solitude.
An hour and half of just us?
Just me on him?
Or him on me?
Mouth?
Fingers?
Both?
All?
And naked?
Hell, even half naked would do at this point.
Pretty sure we’re both tired of these first thing in the morning – because the teen’s not conscious yet – watching from the other side of the phone masturbation sessions we’ve been suffering through.
I mean I like going to work a little more mellow, but I would love going in a little more freshly fucked.
That’s all I’m saying.
“Thayneeeeeee,” Bronny yells while his big brother lets his eyes hungrily linger on my tits. “Where-”
“Shoe closet!”
A smile of admiration slides onto my face, truly impressed by how wonderfully he’s been caring for the person that was literally unexpectedly brought to his doorstep.
“Why would my shoes be in the shoe closet?” he grumbles loud enough for us to hear him despite the fact he’s around the corner.
Jukes lets his mouth lower to answer pushing me to shake my head.
Nope.
More engagement with him means less engagement between us.
Which we need.
We passed want yesterday.
“Ninety minutes starts when I get there!” Bronny announces right before the door slams closed with him on the other side.
“I know he makes the whole nurturing him thing feel like pulling teeth-”
“Dentist pun acknowledged.”
“-but he really does adore you.”
“Jus’ ‘cause I feed him.”
Light giggles appear before I shake my head. “It’s because you really care about him. Just like you really care about me…” My teeth steal a tiny bite from my bottom lip. “And I think that shit is so fucking sexy.”
An undeniably delicious grumble rattles his chest. “Is that right, Slayer?”
Between the sound and the name, all I can manage is a nod.
And even that’s ridiculously difficult.
“What else are you thinkin’ about?”
Whimpering is accompanied by a less than innocent glance at his crotch.
“You want somethin’, Gillybean?” His face cockily tilts itself to the side. “Be a good girl and tell me what.”
“To climb into your lap…”
“It’s open.”
“And…” my frame slinks itself into the aforementioned position making it easier for me to tangle my arms around his neck, “have you give me the Boys II Men treatment.”
This rumble vibrates his entire frame in such a way I can’t stop my hips from rolling into it. “You want me to make love to you, baby?” Both hands glide around to cup my ass. “All through the night?”
“Can you do that, thirty-five?” my mouth lecherously brushes against his. “Can you not let go until I tell you to?”
Jukes’s teeth dig into his bottom lip with the same voracity his fingers do my ass as he slowly nods his understanding. “Lead the way.”
Hesitation to scramble onto my bare feet is non-existent; however, the instant he stands, hard cock outline completely visible in his form fitting sweats, I know we’re not going to make it upstairs.
Network negotiations truth?
We’re not gonna make it off this couch.
God, I hope the teen doesn’t change his mind and come home sooner.
While Thayne is anticipating me reaching for his hand, I grab a fistful of his white t, completely catching him off guard when I use it to yank him down to me.
Our mouths ravenously part on impact, tongues unstoppable in their determination to devour one another.
Rolls are soft then hard.
Hard yet slow.
Slow but so all-consuming that it fails to really register when my scrub bottoms cascade to my ankles.
Or when his sweats are given a similar fate.
Thoughtful twirls transition into untamed tangles alongside impatient tugs at all the remaining material blocking our way.
I want them off.
I want to be getting off.
I want to be past the chorus, onto verse four, putting ad libs over the bridge, forfucksake.
Despite my whimpers and whines and wordless complaints to speed everything up – after all we are on a ticking clock – Jukes maintains his even temper demeanor.
His devotion to me.
Pleasing me.
Feeling me.
Exploring each and every curve the second it becomes exposed to the same unhurried pace that his tongue is subduing mine.
And the more impatient I become, the louder I moan and scratch and claw at his biceps.
Clumsily help him rip off his shirt.
Palm his hips and perfect plump ass I knew from the jump wasn’t all padding.
He groans in long stretches, serenading me in the most primitive fashion, greedily gripping a fistful of my hair at the same time he kisses me harder.
Blocks the desire to breathe.
Shoots away the need.
Stops every ounce of logic from reaching my brain until all that I am is a trembling, breathless, soaking wet, mess of a woman.
Aggressively pushing his naked frame onto the couch barely precedes me promptly returning to his lap where I brazenly grip his cock with one hand and brace the other one on his shoulder.