“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He says and I try to pay attention to the reverent tone of his voice, try to hold on to the positivity of his statement. I’ve heard that before and it wasn’t said with the same affection he intends it now. It was an insult. I like how Andres looks at me, speaks to me, talks about me…like I’m something special. Tears fill my eyes again but this time from the overwhelming emotion that crushes my chest. “Come here, Prickles, let me hold you.”
I nod numbly, letting him help me from my knees, only now noticing the discomfort of the hardwood floors beneath me. He tugs me up into his arms, and holds me like a child, rubbing his hand up and down my back as he walks into his living room and sits down in a comfortable, well-used recliner.
“Your house is comfy.”
His laughter rumbles against my chest, I smile, burrowing deeper into his hold. “Were you expecting a sterile mausoleum?”
“Yup.” No point in denying it.
His arms tighten around my back, his cheek resting on top of my head. “Jenna, I think you’re gonna find that I may have money, but I am far from the wealthy elite you’re expecting.”
“Don’t get too sanctimonious, your house is gigantic and on a huge plot of land in an exclusive neighborhood.”
He laughs again, his lips pressing into my hair. “I do, for security reasons and because I have family that visit often. I’d also like…” he trails off and I lift my head to see his expression. It’s hesitant, pensive. I kiss his lips softly, then pull back with an encouraging smile. “I bought it because I was hoping my wife and I could fill it one day with children. Maybe a dog or cat.”
“You were married?” I whisper, my stomach curdling at the thought.
He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “I haven’t asked her yet.”
“What the fuck, Andres?” He holds me hostage, not letting me jump from his lap. I hit his shoulders, but he just laughs.
“I just met her. You have to give these things time. I bought it for my future.”
“Your future?”
“Yeah.” His grin grows, toothy and bright, his eyes alight with mischievous joy. “Welcome home, Future.”
“You are delulu!” I deflate against him, all my ire and hurt morphing into unfamiliar peace. “Time. I need time.” My voice is just above a whisper, the need in my tone unmistakable.
“I know you do, Prickles.” Standing with zero effort, he cradles me in his arms and ascends a carpeted staircase. We enter a master suite that blows me away. I meant what I said, his home is surprisingly comfy. Warm colors, soft worn furniture. He throws me on the massive California king bed, then grips the waistband of my leggings and tugs them and my thong down my legs. “Hello, friend.” He speaks directly to my vagina, petting my clit in greeting. I lay down, close my eyes and giggle while he has an entire conversation with it. “You’re right, I have not greeted you properly. I apologize for my rudeness.” I glance down my body and find him looking at me with a smirk. “One of my good friends from my playing days was from an Inuit tribe in Alaska. He would greet me by rubbing his nose along mine.” He leans down and rubs his nose against my clit. I moan and laugh at the same time. “I think I like this better.”
Me too.
Andres 9.
I’ve had a few serious relationships in my 39 years on this earth. And I can admit I wasn’t very good at it. I didn’t cheat or abuse anyone, physically or verbally, but I was always so focused on football that I didn’t pay much attention to my partner. Her wants, her needs. I mean, I took care of bedroom business, but outside of that…not the greatest boyfriend.
I want to be different for Jenna. Iamdifferent with her. She’s changed me so much in such a short time and I’ve embraced every single second with open arms. When I look into her dark soulful eyes, I see thousands of sunrises and sunsets together.
However, it will be my own fault if I don’t live to see tonight’s sunset. I care about her so fucking much, she consumes me body and soul…which is why I forgot to give her a head’s up that I invited my parents over for dinner to meet her. It was an honest mistake; I was caught up in all the sexing we’ve done since she knelt at my feet in my foyer.
She came apart on my tongue when I took her upstairs and we’ve been insatiable since. In between immensely satisfying rounds of sex all over my 6-bedroom, 5-bathroom humble abode, we’ve talked, watched movies, fed each other take out and squirreled away in our own little bubble. I can’t be blamed for forgetting a teeny tiny detail like the two people responsible for my being on earth joining us for dinner when she’s been so open andunguarded with me. Between her mouth on me at the front door and the second time I took her last night, she let the last of her reservations go and it’s been absolutely breathtaking to witness her true self unfurl before my eyes. She’s so fucking smart, insightful, and empathetic. The way she weaves the lessons of history into current topics is seamless.
“Did you know it wasn’t until the mid-20thcentury that ‘meeting the parents’ morphed from a cultural expectation to a respectful suggestion? After arranged marriages began to dwindle in popularity with the inclusion of women in the workforce, it was still required to gain parental approval for any long-term relationships and marriages. If the parents did not find the match advantageous, the couple was pressured or forced to part ways. But with the expansion of the job force, adults were gaining financial independence and autonomy at an earlier age and no longer relied on parental approval, instead relying on their own emotions or physical attraction to guide them in their decisions.” Jenna blinks owlishly at my parents, inhaling a deep breath before continuing. “And right now, I’m wondering if my parents would do a better job of finding me a potential partner than I am since I’ve chosen one who apparently prefers ambush tactics rather than open communication.”
There is a long moment of silence, where my soul withers inside me and my balls retreat to my lower abdomen. My dad tosses his head back and lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, while my mom leans on his shaking shoulder as tears stream silently down her face, her hand on her abdomen as she too laughs at my expense.
“Had I known you two were joining us, I would have packed more suitable clothing.”
“You look beautiful, Prickles.” I argue, uncovering an unknown death wish. If looks could kill…I wouldn’t need a burial, there’dbe nothing left of me to mourn. However, she does look fucking edible. Snug red leggings that highlight her high and perky ass, and one of my old Pittsburgh t-shirts tied at her waist, showing off her flat stomach and full tits.
Mom sobers quickly, glaring at me with a look of censure only a mother can achieve. “Jenna, dear, why don’t you and I grab a bottle of wine from Andres’ wine cellar, and you can tell me more about yourself, while my husband assists my beloved son at the grill.” It’s phrased as a question, but it is in fact a command. Elena Abbott could go up against any coach or military general and leave them shaking in their boots. Which is why my father bounces to his feet and ushers me toward the grill on the other end of my back patio. I stare, open mouthed, as mom leads Jenna back into my house. Jenna doesn’t even look at me once. She’s pissed. Fuck.
I’ll make it up to her with my tongue. Fingers. Cock. And then do it all over again until she forgives me for a minor faux pas. Besides, mom is great. She’ll have Jenna over her mad in no time.
The grill has been heating up while we were talking, so it’s ready to go. I uncover the tray of food and start putting the potatoes on first. As they cook, I’ll add the chicken, zucchini and squash medley, and then the steaks. Dad hovers, his burnished copper hair glinting in the late afternoon sun. He hums, checking over my marinades, that I’ve cut the vegetables properly, my steak and chicken are trimmed…basically making himself a nuisance.
“Ok, old man! Seriously. Back off.”
