Lost in You: Petal, Georgia, Book 2 (10 page)

He spread her open and bent his head to take a long lick.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she managed to say around a tongue that felt too big for her mouth.

“I’m going to lick you until you come so hard you can’t speak. And then I’m going to fuck you.”

She had no words already so she gave him two thumbs-up and kept watching, sifting her fingers through his hair.

He certainly seemed to love this part of her. Over and over he teased her with his lips. With his tongue and fingers, and every once in a while, the edge of his teeth. He took it slow. So achingly slow she thought she’d explode from it.

And when it came, when orgasm sucked her under, her back bowed as she tried not to pull his hair too hard, holding him in place as wave after wave of pleasure hit her.

But she wasn’t so boneless she wasn’t able to grab his cock when he tried to move up and past her.

He started to speak until she gave the head of his cock a lick, then the words dissolved into a groan. He stilled, letting her have her way as she licked up the line of him and sucked.

He was a big man. In more ways than one. She had no trouble paying homage to his cock. Cupping his balls as she licked around the crown. He moaned softly, saying her name a few times.

He cradled her head, stroking his free hand over her hair. “Yes, God, yes.” She kept on until he pulled her hair, sending a delighted wave of sensation over her skin from the scalp down. “Enough. For now.”

She pulled off and flopped back to the mattress with a pout.

He kissed her quickly. “Don’t pout.” He returned in moments with a foil square and tore it open with his teeth. Anticipation sliced through her as she couldn’t tear her gaze from the sight of him rolling the latex over his cock, suiting up.

“On your hands and knees.” He turned her. “Facing the mirror so I can watch.”

He was totally going to kill her with the dirty stuff.

He got behind her, on his knees and watched the long line of her back. He spread her thighs and teased her with the head of his cock until she was nearly insane and pushed back, taking the head of him inside.

He put a staying, slowing hand on her hip. “Shhh. It’s coming.” She was so tight he needed to go slow. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he was already so close to coming that if she took him any quicker it would be over before it really got started.

She hummed, a sort of moan, as her fingers tangled in the comforter. Her eyes were closed, so it left him free to look at other parts of her. The ones he saw reflected in the mirror—the sway of those tits as he pressed in deeper and then deeper, the way her lips parted on a sigh when he reached around and gave her clit a feather-light touch. And the ones laid out before him like a buffet. The silky-smooth skin of her back. The curve of her ass. The definition of her biceps as she moved. The sable-dark hair as it slid over her shoulders.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had in his bed, definitely the most beautiful woman he’d ever been inside of.

“More,” she gasped. “Please.”

She swiveled her hips a bit, making him see spots as he locked his jaw and concentrated. He pulled her hips back as he pressed in, just a little. And then a little more.

She was inferno hot. Hot enough to scald him even through the condom. So tight, sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to keep control.

“You feel so good,” she whispered and it tore at his heart. At the walls he built around himself. This woman was so honest, so raw. It made the sex a million times better, but also left him stripped down.

That she seemed to enjoy fucking as much as he did was a good thing. He needed to stop tripping on the other stuff that didn’t matter. He shook his head, sliding in that last bit. This was hot. She was hot. There was no reason not to enjoy every last moment of it.

He began to stroke, fucking her slow and deep. She kept his pace, pressing back with that swivel of hers. Over and over until he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. Until he found that place of no return.

He reached around again, finding her slick, her clit swollen to his touch. He slid a fingertip over it and around it. In time with his strokes until her inner walls fluttered, tightened around him, sucking a gasp from his lips as she came. Dragging him right along with her as orgasm hit him so hard his skin tingled as he groaned long and low. It went on and on until he collapsed beside her, finding his muscle control enough to get up to rid himself of the condom and return to her again.

She smiled at him, leaning to kiss his elbow as it was right next to her face. “Wow. If you can fix a car half as well as you can sex a girl up, you’re going to make a million dollars.”

He laughed, pulling her closer. “I’ll take that compliment quite gracefully. Though admittedly you certainly made it all worthwhile.”

Buck bumped the door Joe had closed on the way in earlier.

“My dog has a crush on you.”

She snorted. “He’s awfully cute. Like his human.”

He sat. “I’m hungry again.”

“I may need those promised Epsom salts first.”

He laughed harder. “I meant for actual food. Meet me in the kitchen and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chapter Eight

Joe stepped in between his father and their neighbor, ending the yelling. “Mr. Pierson, I surely do apologize. I’ll get this handled today.” He steered his father away, though his father resisted.

“Get your hands off me, boy!”

“Do you want to go to jail?” Joe was a man in the prime of his life while his father had been battling injuries and illness for the last three decades. It wasn’t hard to get him to go where Joe wanted.

But his father was on a tear. Angry words fell from his mouth like rain. “You think you can be gone for ten years and just come back and everything is all right? I can take care of my own business.”

Joe gently, but firmly pushed his father inside, closing and locking the door, standing between his father and any escape.

“You don’t have anything handled.”

His mother sighed, wringing her hands. “Carl, be easy now. Joe’s just trying to help.”

“He’s useless. It’s a wonder he’s here and not in prison.”

Joe took a deep breath. “The Joe who left here ten years ago could have easily ended up in prison. But I’m not that dumb kid anymore. I’ve changed. I’m hoping you’ll let me show you that. But in the meantime, you can’t start fights with the neighbors. You’re going to get the cops called and then what?”

“I can store my trash any damned way I see fit!”

“No, you can’t. You’re in the city limits and there are laws about how you deal with your trash. You know that. Pierson knows that. I’ll get the trash dealt with in a few minutes. I’ve got the truck, I’ll take it to the dump.”

“I don’t need you to take my trash out!”

“You need someone to tell you a few things.” Joe had made some calls over the last week. His own status as a vet had helped a little. He had some resources on hand. He knew his father had been blowing up more and more, almost always over his stuff and anyone touching it or trying to get him to deal with it. There were issues here far more than the slipped discs in his back.

“Oh yeah? And you think you’re the man to do it?”

He sighed. “Dad, sit down, please. I don’t want to fight with you. But this has gone far enough. It’s a serious thing, you know. People are starting to talk. You’re upsetting people, including Mom.”

“Why is it anyone’s business?” The rage had washed away now, the confusion replacing it.

“It’s not until your stuff spills into your neighbor’s driveway. Or when you start a fight with the mail carrier or George down at the hardware store. Or when you scare my mother. There’s something wrong and I think it’s time to see someone.”

“There’s not a damned thing wrong with me!”

“Dad, you run off in your pajamas with no shoes on. You start fights with the neighbors. Heck, with your friends. People you’ve known for decades. You forget what you’re saying halfway through a sentence. You say things…hateful, ugly things that I know you don’t mean. You threatened to burn the house down with Mom inside. You’re not that man. Sometimes your chemistry gets mixed up. It’s like dirty gasoline. It messes up everything, building up until things break down little by little. It’s not your fault. But you don’t have to keep suffering. There are things to help.”

“You don’t know anything about me. You left.”

Joe nodded. “I did. I know I was a crappy son. I know I kept you awake with worry lots of nights. I’m not that person anymore. I’m here to help. I made some calls. I know you don’t want to go to Atlanta. But there are some other places we can start that are closer to home. All we need to get started is you saying yes.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Of course you’re not crazy. No one is saying that.”

“Then what
are
you saying?”

Joe sucked in a breath and hoped like hell he was going to do this right. “I’m saying that your behavior isn’t normal. Not for you. This stuff you’re doing, it’s getting worse. Your brain chemistry might be off. They have medication that can help. I’m saying I’d like you to make an appointment to see someone about it. Just a first step and we can go from there. You’re not crazy. There is help. If you’ll just take it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ll think about it.” His dad got up and left the room.

Beside Joe, his mother let out a sigh. “You handled that well. Thank you. He doesn’t mean all that, you know. You weren’t a crappy son.”

“Yeah? If I wasn’t, why’d it take you so long to call to ask me for help?”

“Oh, honey. You have made something for yourself. You made us proud when you went into the army. Worried, of course, especially when you were in Iraq so long. But then you came back and you got a job and you built a life for yourself. I didn’t want to mess that up. You and your sister deserve lives away from here.”

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Petal’s not so bad. The garage is doing well. I just hired another mechanic and a part-timer.” And Beth, things were going well with her too. “My best friends live here. You and Dad are here. We’ll get through this. I’ve got to go make a run to the dump. You gonna be all right?”

She nodded. “He’ll hole up in the shed a few hours. When he erupts, he usually will be okay for a day or two until the next time.”

“I’ll be back later today to check in.”

He backed his truck up and filled it with the bags of garbage that had spilled into the driveway next door. Mr. Pierson watched him carefully for a while, but once he was assured Joe was dealing with it like he’d promised, he’d gone away.

The incidents were getting closer together.

There was no way around that. His father’s mental state was eroding. His anger was worse, and Joe was concerned that his father would end up hurting someone.

Where his dad had always had anger in him, he hadn’t been quick with his fists. That had been Joe’s thing. He’d gotten what he’d later thought of as rage hangovers. All that physical anger had washed through him until he couldn’t see straight or think right. The army had given him the discipline to divert that, to channel his energy so that he could deal with his shit without his fists. The last thing he wanted was for his father to wake up, fully cognizant of the mess he’d made, the things he’d done that were not something he could take back.

The years of drinking might have taken a toll on him. Certainly it had masked some of the symptoms as he self-medicated.

The woman at the mental-health-services line had given Joe a great list of resources. He’d read a lot on the internet as well. There were many things this could be. But none of it was anything they could treat unless and until he got in to see someone capable of diagnosing whatever it was.

So that was step one.

He was a better man than the shit-headed kid who’d signed up for the military because he’d been drunk and jingoistic. He’d learned a lot. Become a man. And he needed to show his father that he was someone worth leaning on.

Beth had her hands in the dirt. Digging and planting. Around her the kids played. Some of them helped. The little ones wandered off with the flowers and would bring them back occasionally.

It was a good day there in Tate’s front yard.

Tate sat nearby in a chair Matt had brought out for her. He’d even glowered at his wife until she’d sighed and sat. Then he’d put up an umbrella to shield her from the sun, and people had come by continually to freshen her lemonade or tea.

This pregnancy had been harder on her than the other two. The early months, she’d been fine with occasional evening nausea. But after she’d moved into the second trimester, she’d been so sick in the early parts of the day she’d actually lost weight.

The baby was fine. Growing well. So that was good. Tate was at the stage where she cried a lot, which was normal too. But Beth hated to see her sister in any sort of discomfort.

They all did.

Family had simply gathered around her in a protective knot. Of course that had driven Tate, who was used to being the one in charge, insane. Which was just too bad because people loved her too damned much to let her be any more uncomfortable than she had to be.