Chapter 5 #2
He half slumped against me, careful not to crush me. “Cy Pru’s bitch. Pru Cy’s,” he rumbled out. He said it in that very matter of fact, too serious way of his.
A small, self deprecating laugh left me. Maybe he was right, maybe we were perfect for each other. He was fucking nuts and I liked his crazy.
“We ruined the couch.” A small, semihysterical laugh bubbled to the surface.
The snort this man let out above me. Thick fingers slid beneath me, sliding right into the wetness beneath me. Of all the things I thought he might do, pressing his cum wet hands to my stomach to swipe them up my chest, was not one of them.
The squeal I let loose, trying to get away from him but unable to as he finger painted my body with baby batter, had him growling softly as if the noise hurt his ears.
“What are you doing?!” I burst out, slapping at his hands to no avail.
Protests died on my lips as he cupped my breasts, trapped my nipples between his fingers, then began to knead and pinch them until I’d nearly forgotten all about his previous antics.
“Pru mine,” he purred in my ear, then nipped my ear lobe. “Smell like Cy. All know Pru Cy’s.”
“We both know I’m just going to wash it off,” I pointed out. I loved me a good, hot shower at the end of a long day.
“Not if-”
It was a struggle, but I managed to reach around him to clap a hand over his mouth. “Do not even finish that sentence. I will leave you out in the cold to die.”
“We shower,” he grunted out into my fingers.
Thinking about it for a minute, I gave a slow nod. “That’s an acceptable option.”
Cy grinned into my fingers, then purred as he nuzzled them.
All I could think as I struggled to comprehend much beside the fact I enjoyed being in this woolly man’s company far more than I probably should was what the hell have I just signed up for?
According to the news report later that day, after we’d showered, he’d painted a mess on me yet again because he’s a weird, possessive ass, and then enticed me to ride his face so I too had claimed him, then scrubbed the couch and even packed a bit more of the living room up, we were in for about a week of winter wonderland, snowed in together fun.
And it was fun.
Cy was pretty easy to get along with when it was just the two of us— and if we weren’t eating, showering, or trying to work our way through some packing chore or another, we were screwing each other’s everloving brains out.
He was comforting when I carefully wrapped Mom and Dad’s knickknacks, family pictures, photo albums, and promptly started crying. I don’t know how he managed to do it but he even got me to talk about it, to the point I probably divulged too much, embarrassingly so looking back on it now.
It was nearing the end of the week. I was dreading the first break in this crazy winter storm. We hadn’t really talked about where we’d go from here, where to next.
“No more,” I muttered around my last bite of food as we shared a plate. “I’m full. I can’t eat anymore, I’ll pop.”
Cy shrugged and ate the bite he’d been holding out for me.
My toes wiggled, snug in another pair of Dad’s socks, my legs, equally as snug in the lined leggings I never really wore but he’d laid out for me from my still hidden clothes stash that he’d wrestled me into, were draped over his lap on the couch as he force fed me eggs, country potatoes, and bacon until I flat out refused another bite.
Polishing off our shared plate, set on my legs so he had a hand free to smooth over my knee while one of several of my all time favorite movies about an oversized lizard running amok played out on the TV.
“Do you think he’s lonely?” I asked as my gaze strayed from my sex freak snow buddy love monkey to the movie.
“My Pru lonely?” he returned.
Squirming as shit got serious all of the sudden, I hesitated to answer.
“Feel lonely now?” he rephrased the question.
“Kinda hard to feel lonely when I can’t even take a shower by myself anymore,” I pointed out with a teasing smile twisting my lips.
Cy’s smile was just shy of a smirk.
“I draw the line at anything else bathroom related.” The look I gave him brooked no argument. “If we’re going to ride out this storm together, you will at least give me that.”
“Cy not go nowhere.” He tossed it out there so casually.
I so badly wanted to believe him.
Staring at him, admiring the stubborn fierceness that is Cypress the pain in the ass Tree, I opened my mouth to respond to his statement, press him to elaborate, as a thought occurred to me, something I really should have spoken with him about much sooner. “I’m not on anything.”
“Not smell like it.” Cy let out a grunt, dismissed my words, and focused back on the bread he was using to mop up egg yolk off the plate.
“Not what I mean, fuzzy buns.” Clapping a hand to my forehead, I went to sit up but his hand on my knee clamped down, he stopped mid chew, and he turned my way with such a look of utter confusion I nearly laughed.
“Birth control. I’m not on any kind of birth control.
We’ve been doing the Hokey Pokey without a hat. A lot.”
Everything that had stiffened up in the man relaxed. “Oh.” Finishing the food squirreled away in his cheek, he got back to mopping the plate clean to shove his last bite into his mouth.
Oh. Oh? “That’s all you have to say to that? Oh?” I spluttered. I’m not the irresponsible type. Not usually. But I’d admit to completely losing my head with this guy.
Frowning my way, again with the confused look, he blurted around a mouthful, “Cy not use birth control, neither.”
Nudging him with my foot, I rolled my eyes. “Be serious. This is serious.”
“Cy always serious, comes to my Pru,” he rumbled out curtly.
Butthurt, party of one.
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled. Folding my arms over my chest, I waited.
Setting the plate carefully on the coffee table, he twisted to grab his blanket off the back of the couch. Opening it up to come down over me with it, trapping my folded arms beneath it, he grinned down at me as I glared up at him.
“Pru Cy’s. Cy my Pru’s.” Leaning in, he nuzzled my forehead, his breath fanning across the spot, then placed a kiss there. “Cy claim. Pru claim.”
“What about when I have to move?” I croaked out. There I went, ruining what could have been a sweet moment, posing that damn question.
“My Pru stay with you Cy.” His thick shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, like this was no big deal.
“And live with your parents?” I spluttered, agape.
Cy snorted. “What wrong my mama, da?” He was feigning offense. I wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean. We can’t go on like we are at your parents’ house. We’re going to stay in your old bedroom and, what, boink like bunnies in there? Down the hall from Elm? How is any of that going to work?”
“Elm stupid. Not Cy’s problem. Mama no care. Da no care. Mama loves Pru.”
“Not enough to let you bring me home if she put her foot down about us and we were just friends back then,” I huffed out.
“What mean?” Cy pulled back, clearly confused.
Eyeing him, I scowled. “You mean you don’t know?”
“No know what?” he grunted out. He wasn’t faking it. He honestly didn’t know.
I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him, though I was tempted to ask him what his reasoning was for not hanging out with me anymore.
Maybe they only told Elm and Cy thought it was a mutual pull away.
“I can’t live at your parents’ house,” I repeated, more firmly than the last. I refused to stay where I wasn’t really welcome.
“We get place. Cy find one.” Patting my knee reassuringly, he motioned for me to lift my legs so he could take care of our dishes.
“How did we go from snow storm buddies to moving in together? I mean, is this something you really want?” I called out.
If he was serious, I was serious. I mean, yes, this was all moving at the speed of light and that little voice in my head warned me I should proceed with caution but… it felt very right.
Sitting up, I wrapped Cy’s blanket over my shoulders and curled my legs up.
The back door opened and closed. I jumped at the slap of the back door smacking shut.
Shit. Where was he going? Had I upset him?
Hopping to my feet, I was almost to the door when I heard footsteps stomping back up the back porch stairs.
Running back to the living room, I hopped over the side of the couch, threw the blanket over me, and tried to calm my racing heart.
Cy wasn’t quiet about it as he clomped past me with the boots he must have slipped on before going outside in his hands, a duffel bag over one arm, and dumped the boots by the front door.
Tossing the duffel bag to the other end of the couch, he’d just sat down, started to rifle through it for something, when there was a heavy knock at the front door.
Cy glanced my way but I shrugged. “I’m not expecting anyone. It’s blizzarding out there.”
“Maybe we quiet, they go away,” he leaned in to whisper, rubbing my knee as he leaned over me and took my lips in a sweet but heated kiss.
“What if I get pregnant?” I pointed out as Cy moved in closer, and closer, until he had his arms wrapped around me and he dipped to nuzzle my neck.
“Cy love babies my Pru. My Pru goot mama. Cy take care my Pru.”
“How?” I blurted.
Cy paused his sexy nuzzling and pulled back to study me. “Pru not think Cy take care my babies?” Thick eyebrows shot up.
Squirming, in the hot seat, I mumbled, “I didn’t mean you so much as us,” I corrected.
Before he could respond the knocking came again, harder, louder.
My gaze darted to the door and I started to get up but Cy shook his head.
“What if someone is stuck or needs help or something?” I worried.
Cy cocked his head. “Not stuck. Just stupid,” I thought he muttered as he gave me one last kiss, gave me a look that I knew meant stay put, and watched him as he walked over to the door.
Peeking through the peephole, he announced, “We not want none.”
The growl that issued from the other side had my eyebrows shooting up. Had his family come all the way over here in this weather for him?
“Don’t play. They’re probably half chilled through,” I grumbled.
Cy sighed. Hand on the door knob, he rumbled something that I thought sounded like a prayer, and threw the door open.
Someone or something smacked the back door hard enough it rattled the dishes in the cupboard, right as the front door swung open.
I’d just hopped up, ready to check the back door, when thick arms reached in, grabbed Cy, and he was yanked right out the front door with a snarl.
A startled shout left me right along with him as Cy took flight, soaring through the air towards the driveway.
I stopped halfway to the back door, skidding in my slippered feet, and was just turning around to run towards the front door and all of that commotion when the back door burst open. It wasn’t a knocking pounding, it was the person on the other side trying to bust through, I realized.
Birch came barging through with a bellow, to tackle me to the ground like he was playing out a scene in Cops.
“Are you insane?” I breathed. “Does anyone knock?”
Birch paused in wrestling me as I fought dirty and he blocked faster. “Elm knock.”
“I- Well- Yes.” But then he yoinked Cy out of the house, I quietly amended.
“Then yes,” the cheeky bastard quipped.
“Oh, screw you!”
“Smell like Elm and Cy already did.” Birch’s nose wrinkled. “Smell like Cy did a lot.” Another nose wrinkling sniff. “Pru smells funny now.”
“Oh- Fuck off!”
The sound of two males pummeling each other paused and Elm and Cy snarled simultaneously, like two beasts in sync.
“Fuck you too!” I called after them.
“She fine!” Birch hollered after them, like that was what they’d been waiting for, and the fighting resumed.
“Don’t manhandle me! Go after them, before they kill each other! They’re your brothers,” I bellowed at him.
Everything had gone from wonderful, blissful even, to shit in seconds flat.
Birch let out a loud grunt that told me he was thinking about it.
“If you don’t go after them, I will. Then I’m coming right back around for you, Britches!” I warned him.
“Sound like Mama,” he muttered, but hopped off of me and rushed out the door.
Running after him, I would have followed him out but he shoved me back inside and slammed the door shut behind him. The warning look he sent my way as the door closed annoyed me more than anything. It was the fighting outside that had me in knots.
“Fine. Asshole.” Taking up residence near the front window, I quickly realized I’m not much of a spectator of brother on brother brutality and abandoned that idea completely.
I was not about to sit here and just watch them pulverize each other.
Grabbing Cy’s things, his boots, wallet, truck keys, cell, I shoved them all into the canvas bag I kept hanging up by the door, opened the front door, set it all on the front stoop, and found myself promptly yelled at by three snarling grouches.
“Go to hell!” I snarled right back, then promptly shut the door on their angry faces, and locked it.
Yanking the curtains closed, I stomped back to the stove to finish cooking. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
I couldn’t, could I?
That would be plain evil… They’d be pissed. It was so childish, really…
But that smile slowly tipping my lips like a holiday Grinch couldn’t be contained. It would promptly put an end to this nonsense, I conceded.
Grabbing up my phone, I dialed and waited.
Before Sunny could speak, I barked, “Your sons that you banned from being within five feet of me are at my place trying to kill each other in my front yard. I thought you should know.”
“Prudence?” Sunny blurted.
“Boys fight?” Forest grumbled. He sounded close enough to listen in.
“It’s an all out brawl with no end in sight,” I confirmed.
And because I’m not a total asshole and maybe she had a point in keeping us all apart like she did considering the chaos I’d unintentionally instigated, turning me into the homewrecker I was destined to be, I guess, I added, “I’m sorry,” then hung up.
“I… am a total chicken shit,” I mumbled under my breath as I started in on the kitchen, cleaning up the mess we’d made in there earlier. Cy really liked raspberry jam, especially when I licked it off of funny places on him.
Stress speed cleaning up the kitchen, mentally cataloguing what I could donate, keep, and whatnot, the fighting was still going on as I put a new hand towel out and walked the one I’d used to the wash.
The temptation to peer out the window was insane but I resisted. Those assholes had snarled at me, like I didn’t belong out there, like this wasn’t my bullshit too.
It was all my bullshit.
Desperate for something to do, I made a mental list and hopped to it.
This wasn’t exactly the way I’d hoped I’d find the inspiration to get started in on the house, but beggars can’t be choosers.