Chapter 36
Colin
“Shouldn’t you get that?” I ask after her phone rings for the fourth time in less than ten minutes. She sighs and gets out of bed, and I immediately regret telling her to get it.
“I’m only going in case it’s someone from my condo board. Sometimes, we get water damage from storms.” She walks out of the bedroom to get the phone from the kitchen table. “This is Brynneka,” I hear her say.
I decide to flip through the channels until she comes back. We’ve been in bed for the past two hours, and neither has paid attention to the movie in the background. Once her hand slid under my T-shirt and stroked my skin, I was lost in the sensation. We cuddled, kissed, and possibly dosed off for a few seconds.
“Vanna?” I hear her ask. Her tone has changed. Before she left this room, she was content and calm. Now, she sounds stressed. “Excuse me?” she asks, raising her voice.
I slide out of the bed and find her in the living room. Her back is to me as she holds the phone to her ear and looks out the window. I put a hand on her shoulder and she puts her free hand over mine.
“Are you serious right now?” she asks. “You’re really calling to tell me off about kicking your son out of the house?” She lets out a little laugh. She faces me and rolls her eyes as she points at the phone. “Your son, my former stepbrother, inherited a house he had no right to inherit based on a technicality. A house my mother owned before she married your ex-husband and let him and your son move in. Then he threw me out of the house I lived in my entire life and then lost it after he destroyed it. I bought the house back, Vanna. Your loser son wasn’t living there when I bought it. Trust me, he can’t afford to rent from me.” She ends the call, tosses the phone on the couch, and takes a deep breath.
I pull her into my arms.
“Let’s go back to bed,” she says. “I’m sorry about that.” She steps out of my arms but takes my hand and pulls me back to the bedroom.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“We promised not to talk about anything serious.”
“We promised not to talk about work. That wasn’t work. Maybe I can help,” I offer.
“You can’t help. Remember my former stepbrother?” When I tell her that I do, she says, “That was his mother, and she’s demanding that I let him live in one of the apartments because it’s his home too, and he has no place to live now.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say.
“The nerve of that woman. Oliver’s dad had full custody of him. She never remembered his birthday or Christmas. He called my mother Mom, and she did everything for him. And he pays her back by kicking me out of the house she always meant for me.” She tells me after her stepfather died, she realized the house was in his name, which meant that Oliver was his next of kin and inherited it instead of her. “I bet she called me because she wants him gone. She never gave a damn about him before. Not my problem.”
“I’m sorry, Honeybee.”
“And he’s such a scumbag. Our parents met because we were in the same art camp one summer. He’s an artist—or at least he was. I don’t know what he’s doing now. The last thing I heard, he was a graphic designer. He’s four years older, and I didn’t realize it until a year after it happened, but when he applied to colleges, he stole one of my designs and submitted it with his application.”
“So, he kicked you out of the house?” I ask, incredulous. “How old were you?”
“I was a junior in college. I lived in the dorm for the first two years, but I took the first semester of my junior year off to take care of my stepdad. He died in November, and when I got kicked out, I lived with Raven for a while. It was a mess. I barely had time to grieve my stepdad.”
I pull her closer and kiss her forehead. “Do you want me to beat him up for you?”
She laughs and snorts at the same time. “I do,” she says.
“Consider it done.”
I light the candles and dim the overhead lights. She’s not much of a dancer, so I put soft music for background noise. I glance out the window and almost want to stick my middle finger at it. The snow stopped last night, and while the roads are slippery, things have started to open up again.
Today’s been great. I went to the store to get the ingredients for the pie after she started prepping the beef stew. She took over my kitchen while I made drinks. When she made the pie crust, I wrapped my arms around her, rested my chin on her shoulder, and watched her work.
Not even getting flour thrown in my face could make me walk away. I decided to make tonight a date night, and she’s getting dressed in one of the guestrooms.
My heart rate picks up when I hear the click-clack of those stiletto boots on my hardwood stairs. She’s in tight black pants and a form-fitting, long-sleeved black and gray lace shirt tucked in.
I approach the bottom of the stairs and offer her my hand. “You smell amazing,” I say after pulling her in my arms. I lift her hand and spin her around. “And you look good enough to eat.” I hug her again and whisper, “And I plan on eating you.”
She pulls away and blushes. For someone so beautiful, smart, and sexy, I don’t think she’s used to being complimented. Every time I tell her how amazing she is, she blushes.
“You made it look so romantic in here,” she says.
“That’s just one of the many, many things I bring into this relationship.” She looks into my eyes, and I think she’s trying to gauge whether I’m serious. “Let’s eat.” I escort her back to the kitchen. While I pour a glass of red wine for each of us, she puts the stew in two large bowls. She slices the bread she baked earlier and brings it to the table. After clinking our glasses together, I take a spoonful of the stew.
“Oh my God,” I moan and take another spoonful. “Beautiful, smart, sexy, and can cook. I’m lucky you were single when we met.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “This was my mom’s recipe. She believed in indulging in comfort foods during snowstorms. She taught me.” She puts her spoon down and looks away. “She was the best.” She puts her hand in the middle of the table, and I put mine on top of it.
“How did she die? She must have been young if you were only nineteen.”
“She was fifty-five,” she says. “She had a heart condition. We didn’t know about it until she died.” A tear slips, and she quickly wipes it away. “That got depressing,” she says with a half-hearted laugh. “What about your parents?” she asks.
“Well, my dad passed away years ago. He was eighty-three. My mom was his second wife. My mother lives overseas, and I see her every few years. She was never interested in parenting, so she let the nannies do it. My dad was too old. Uncle Milton was more of a father to me than anyone.” I almost want to bite my tongue for saying his name. The last thing I want is to kill the mood, and mentioning his name is guaranteed to do that. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to mention him.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “But you’re close to your sister, right? I wish I had a sibling, but Raven and Amira are like my sisters. The good kind. The kind I got to choose.”
“I love having you here, but this pie is not good for my body. It sure tastes good though.” Dinner’s long since over, and we were so full from the stew that we waited a couple of hours to eat dessert. She warmed the pie and put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on each slice. It was so good that after I ate mine, I got the rest of the dessert, dumped ice cream all over it, and grabbed one clean spoon.
She’s now straddling me on the couch while I feed us.
“We’re not supposed to eat an entire pot of stew and pie in one day,” she says. Just as she says it, she opens her mouth for another spoonful, but I move it away from her mouth and eat it.
“More for me,” I say and take another spoonful. She snatches the spoon from me and fills it with ice cream.
“Oops,” she says after dropping some on my chest. “I guess I’ll have to clean that up. I don’t want you thinking I’m a bad houseguest.” Her mouth lands on my chest, and she licks the sugary dessert off me. My dick, which has been in a constant state of arousal, hardens further. “Oh, what just popped up, Mr. Kincaid? Are you being a dirty boy?”
“There’s nothing boyish about me, and you know it. Stick your hand in my pants if you want a reminder.” She wiggles her brows and pulls off my belt. She then unbuttons the top button and unzips my pants. Her hand soon wraps around me, and I throw my head back and close my eyes. “Did you find what you’re looking for?” I put the pie on the coffee table, put my hand to the back of her neck, and pull her face close to mine. “Maybe I should change your name to Busy Bee.” I kiss her deeply and she tastes of sugar and cinnamon.
She lets go of my dick and tries to pull my pants down. I lift myself up, and she gets the pants and underwear down my thighs to my ankles until I kick them off.
“Now what?” I say against her mouth. “What are you going to do?” She pushes against my chest and points to the couch. I follow her lead and lie down. She stands and slowly pulls down her tight black pants. Her shirt hooks at the crotch, and she unsnaps it and lifts it over her head. She has no bra, and her breasts spring free.
She climbs on top of me and sticks her face in the crook of my neck, sucking and biting, and it feels so good I don’t give a second thought to getting marked. She kisses her way down, flicking my nipples with her tongue before she kisses and sucks her way down my chest past my navel. She stops when she gets to my dick. It’s hard and ready for her. The top is oozing that clear liquid, and when she licks it off, I almost fall off the couch.
“Control yourself, Kincaid. I’m just getting started with you.” She leaves my dick and reaches for the dessert. Seconds later, I let out a hiss when I feel a cold substance on me, but it doesn’t last long. She takes me to the back of her throat.
“Honeybee,” I sigh. “God damn, your mouth feels good.” She wraps her hand around my shaft and strokes me. “It’s about time you put that smart mouth to good use.” She stops, and I reach around and slap her naked ass. “Don’t stop, baby,” I say. “Oh, fuck,” I croak out when she puts me back in her mouth. She tortures me by pulling me out and taking me back in. She does it until I almost go crazy. I’m close to the edge, but I want to come inside her pussy, not her mouth.
I roll us over and we nearly fall, but I manage to keep us on the couch. I slide down her body and lift her legs high before I stick my face in her pussy. I don’t tease her clit like I normally would. Instead, I bite it, and she lets out a loud groan. It’s so loud I’m grateful the only neighbor I have on this floor is on the opposite side of the hallway. I give her the same sweet torture she gave me moments ago. I suck and lick and bite, spreading her legs further apart, and suck her inner thighs, ensuring she will have marks there for days, if not longer.
I lie on top of her and slide inside her wet pussy in one hard thrust.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she practically screams.
“You like that?” Whatever she was going to say gets lost when I thrust deep inside of her. “I said, do you like that?”
“You know I do,” she says. “You jerk. Aaah,” she says while I fuck her hard. This is how she likes it, and I will give it to her. Her nails scrape my now sweaty back, and she bites my shoulders. She wraps one leg around me and her moans fill my living room.
“I’m coming,” she croaks before she starts to shake uncontrollably beneath me. I’m not too far behind, and soon I fill her with my release, holding her against me while she continues to shudder.
“I have you, baby,” I croon in her ear. “Let go. Let me hold you.” She slides her hand through my hair, kissing and nibbling the side of my neck. It’s not long until I slide out of her, but I stay on top and kiss her lips, neck, and the tops of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” I say.
“You make me feel that way,” she says.
“That’s because you are.” We roll over, and I spoon her from behind.
“You need some blankets on this couch,” she jokes.