Chapter 16 Dutch
SIXTEEN
Dutch
The therapist I’d tried had given me steps in how to regulate myself when anxiety was creeping in. He’d also given me a generous prescription for Xanax.
Neither of them had worked.
This tiny chaos demon of a woman did more to ground me in the moment in five minutes than anything I’d tried in the last year.
I hadn’t realized I was heading for a spiral, but she knew.
“Dutch?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we have pizza?”
I laughed. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Me too.” She leaned back, her fingers laced along my lower spine. “How do you feel about Roadhouse?”
“Pardon?” Not at all what I was expecting her to ask me.
“Roadhouse. The movie.”
“Reboot or original?”
She gave me a disgusted look. “Is that even a question?”
“I have very fond feelings about it.”
“Great!” She reached down and smacked my ass. “You slice the pizza up and I’ll start the movie.”
The laugh tumbled out of me as she ducked under my arm and hurried back into the living room. She went right to the large bay window and flicked a switch. A hidden shade lowered, darkening the room as it blotted out the afternoon sun.
I followed directions and cut up the pizza, filching a piece of sausage as I divvied up the slices onto the mismatched plates she’d put out on the counter.
In the three minutes it took me, she’d rearranged the living room to turn it into a Netflix and chill situation. It was the only word for it.
She situated herself on the couch, patted the cushion on one side of her for Mouse who happily hopped up then did the same for me on her other side.
“Do this a lot?”
“You have no idea.” She made gimme fingers and I handed her the plate. “Thank you.”
I was about to sit down when she gave me a pained expression.
“What?”
“Wine.”
I shook my head and grabbed our glasses then settled beside her. She already finished most of the slice before she reached over Mouse for a remote.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes lit up. “You know when you doomscroll and find stupid things to buy on the internet?”
“A time or two.”
“Well”—she took another bite—“I got this little projector. It was total crap, but I loved the concept.”
She licked the pad of her thumb and I had to swallow extra hard to get my own bite down. How on earth was this woman so effortlessly sexy?
“I upgraded and it’s the best thing ever.” She sipped her wine and set it on the end table.
The screen filled with the opening scene in a slick nightclub.
She scrunched down on the couch and Mouse put his head on her thigh, hoping he was cute enough to get a nibble.
I pulled a hassock over that looked like it was reupholstered with an old quilt. A fuzzy maroon blanket was folded on top. She didn’t even look away from the screen, just lifted her plate for me to toss the blanket over her and myself.
And we ate the pizza and watched a ridiculous action movie from the early ’90s.
When she fell asleep against me, I’d never been more content in my whole damn life.
The streaming service auto-played another movie, but I didn’t pay attention to it. My brain was tugging at more small town ideologies. They added to the kernels from the day before.
Slowly building toward a town complicit in the secrets of the lake.
I wasn’t sure how long I spun the ideas around until Mouse nudged my hand.
“Need to go out?”
His tail thumped.
I eased out from under Phoebe and settled her on the couch with the blanket. I let Mouse out and then cleaned up the kitchen.
I noticed a cheap spiral bound notebook by her makeshift charging station. She had an iPad and her phone plugged into slots. A basket of pens, colored pencils, and crayons of all things was beside it.
Maybe if I just wrote a few things down…
I filled up five pages in my shorthand before I heard scratching at the door.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said when I opened the door.
He trotted in and gave me a look.
“I suppose you’re hungry?”
His tail wagged.
I took the notebook with me as I re-read what I wrote and filled his bowl, then set it down on the mat with bones on it. Because of course she had that for him.
I leaned on the kitchen island, scribbling down a few more ideas as they came.
I told myself even stupid ideas were better than no ideas.
Was the story too cliché?
“Fix it later,” I mumbled.
Maybe I should leave her on the couch and go back to my place. But doing that felt wrong. Not only leaving her, but the idea didn’t have enough merit yet.
I knew myself.
Vantage Point was a once in a lifetime story.
I needed to go back to my own basics. If I had any hope of convincing Monte that this book would be better than the one I originally sold them, I needed to come up with a killer story. That meant I needed to marinate a bit.
“Oh, you got an idea?”
I shut the notebook. “Hey. You’re up.”
She yawned and leaned on the counter across from me. “Sorry about that. Guess I was too cozy and full.”
“No problem. Do you want me to get out of your hair?”
“I like you in my hair.” She chuckled. “You know what I mean.”
She slid the notebook away from me, but I put my palm down on top of it.
“Don’t worry, I’m not looking.” She took my hand and pulled me away from the island. “I’m just revived.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded and looped her arms around my neck.
Mouse gave us the side-eye and headed back into the living room.
“That was a little judgy.”
“He knows that you’re about to corrupt me.”
Her lips slid into a sly smile. “He might be correct.”
She jumped up and I grunted and caught her against me. She wrapped her legs around my waist leaving me little choice but to grip her ass.
“We need to take a trip into town before—”
“I may have found two condoms in my stash while you were sleeping earlier.”
“Is that right?” A bolt of lust pushed the last of the percolating idea away.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m saying so now.”
I turned and stalked down the hall, her laughter echoing the whole way. She cupped the back of my head and fastened her mouth over mine.
She tasted of wine and spices.
Of that undeniable Phoebe flavor that was rapidly becoming my favorite thing in this whole shitshow that was my life.
I stood her on the mattress so she was taller than me, then raked my fingers down her slip of a dress so I could draw it over her head.
She was all golden curves and totally secure in her skin.
She cupped my face, hooded pleasure darkening her eyes before she lowered herself to her knees in front of me.
She unfastened the button and zipper of my jeans. “Off,” she said huskily.
“Phoebe.”
Every fucking dream I’d had of her for the last week tumbled through my head.
She stared up at me, the usual sweetness missing. In its place was a siren with those otherworldly dark green eyes. The late day sun dappled the room, tattooing her skin.
I jerked the jeans and boxers down over my hips and let them pool around my ankles. She took me in hand, lifting my cock against my lower belly to lick along the underside of my shaft, making sure to use her mouth much like earlier.
When she’d driven me over the edge.
My fingers slipped into her hair as she sucked the tip, lightly tonguing the drop of precum before taking me deep.
“Fuck.”
She drew strongly and my head fell back as I tried to gather myself.
She hummed out her pleasure. I had to look.
I needed to see her mouth full of me.
My gaze raced over her face, over her swollen lips and tongue as she took me again and again, but then I noticed her fingers between her own thighs.
“Are you wet for me?”
Her lids lowered as if in answer as she took me deeper until I hit the back of her throat.
“Let me taste.”
She slipped her hand free. I took it, bringing it to my mouth as I licked her clean.
She used her other hand to grip my base as she bobbed her head up and down then let my cock pop free of her mouth. “How do I taste?”
I lowered my mouth to hers and she greedily sucked my tongue into her mouth. It was wet and messy, our flavors mingling.
She rubbed her breasts along my cock as she stretched to meet me.
“Where the hell is that condom,” I mumbled against her mouth.
“Bedside table.”
I lifted her up and she squeaked, but wrapped her legs around me.
God, it would be so easy to adjust her and slip inside.
My fingers dug into her thighs as I walked around the bed and tumbled us both into the sheets we’d been twisted in just a few hours ago.
I leaned on my hip and reached for one of the packets. I ripped it open and rolled it on. As I was about to crawl between her thighs, a giggle bubbled out of her.
I frowned, then looked down at the ultraviolet condom.
“Jesus.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me down on top of her. “I’m thankful for the romance author who did a signing at the bookstore with all the very best swag.”
I lifted her knee to widen her thighs.
“Tell me her name when my brain works again. I’ll buy her whole fucking backlist.”
She laughed and all that dark siren power dissipated into the honeyed gold that was Phoebe.
I dragged the head of my cock along her pussy, groaning at how ready she was for me. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
Her hand lifted to my cheek. “I’m stronger than you think, Atticus.”
I wasn’t sure if she meant here in this bed, or that generosity that infused her entire being. I had a feeling it was both.
I deserved neither.
But I wasn’t strong enough to walk away.
At least for now.
She hooked the ankle of her other leg around my hip, drawing me down on her. “Inside me. Show me how much you want me.”
I did.
It was too fast. Too overwhelming what this woman did to me, but I drove into her and let her be my shelter.
Let her golden color wrap around me in every way possible.
I tried to keep it slow and easy, but she met every stroke. Arching under me, wrapping around me until I couldn’t find an end.
There was just her undulating hips taking me. The powerful slap of our skin and the sweat that broke out along my back as I powered into her again and again.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, my back, my ass as she demanded more.
And I gave it.
I didn’t have a choice.
We were locked in the gray.
The foggy otherworld where pleasure danced with denial.
One arm locked around my shoulder, her mouth against my neck. “Atticus. More.”
I pulled out of her and she cried out. I flipped her on to her belly, my hand under her for the friction she needed and slammed into her again. Our fingers laced as I pinned her down.
She pushed back on me, just as hungry as I was.
I nailed her into the mattress. My muscles burning with it but when she cried out my name, the fog cleared.
The prism of colors in the room from the glass and the riot of pleasure drop kicked me into a free fall.
I gripped her hips and came so hard the room fuzzed and sparkled.
When it cleared, it was her, looking over her shoulder at me.
I covered her, then covered her mouth.
Holding on to the light inside of her.