After everything is set, I snuggle in my warm, comfy bed and ignore the mountains of boxes surrounding me.
Sleeping is impossible. My mind tortures me by replaying Brad’s every smile. Every touch. What would it be like to kiss Brad Rathborn?
To touch him?
And is his cock really that big?
I’m aching and desperate when I finally give in.
“You’re the boss, Charlie. Tell me what to do.”
“On your knees, Brad.”
He drops without hesitation, his eyes on mine, waiting for orders. Fuck. I’m already too close. I order him to take off my pants. My boxer briefs. And he does it all torturously slow. Awkwardness prickles my skin as I imagine telling Brad what I want. And try to keep Syd’s words out of my head.
“Tell me what you want, Charlie?” my imaginary Brad asks.
“Suck my cock.”
I imagine Brad’s mouth on me, and thinking goes out the window as I jack myself off to thoughts of fucking Brad’s mouth. It doesn’t take long after that, but the high from getting off is short. After I clean up, I slip back under my warm blankets, knowing it’s a fantasy. One that can never actually happen.
Friday, January 16th
My welcome-home dinner takes almost two weeks to schedule due to my work schedule and Mom’s commitments. It’s been a week since the taste-testing. Brad’s been friendly but professional. Exactly what I want, right?
Then why am I so upset with him?
Mom’s made my favorite, pot roast and potatoes, and it’s as good as I remember. But it’s difficult to enjoy my food with everything so awkward.
My parents share looks like they’re plotting something. But the most confusing thing of all is Brad.
As Dad points out, Brad and Harper are family. Which doesn’t sit right in my gut. Brad’s eyes meet mine across the table, but the playful teasing from a few days ago is gone.
“Are you all moved in?” Dad asks, although I’m sure he knows the answer.
“Everything’s in the apartment. Unpacked? Not so much.”
I glance at Brad. He’s poking the potatoes like they personally did something to him. Normally, he’d make some crack about me not unpacking my boxes. It was a joke when I moved to college and then came back home.
What’s his problem? But I know the answer. It’s fine to flirt with me, touch my hair, and feed me food as long as no one sees. Especially not my parents.
Why does that upset me? It’s not like I want anyone to know what almost happened between us. But with the way he’s been aloof at work, the shift back to family friend is hard to take. It frustrates me so much that I want to grab his fork and stab himwith it. Every now and then, I catch him looking at me. And then pretending he isn’t.
I ignore Brad and his moods and focus on my parents. “I put my bed together, so that’s a huge accomplishment.” I laugh. “When I moved to KC, I slept on a mattress on the floor for a week. And the first place I lived had mice, so I made quite a few friends before I moved into an apartment building that had more people than rodents. Oh, sorry, Harper.”Stop rambling, Charlie.
She waves her hand. “It’s fine.” Brad’s sister is not a fan of mice. Snakes? Sure. No problem. But no rodents.
“Boxes attract mice, so you should get those boxes unpacked,” Mom says. Her smile dims. “Unless you’re planning on moving again.” Something in her voice reminds me of a live wire you don’t want to touch.
I smile and squeeze her hand. “Not moving anytime soon, Mom. No worries about that.” When I glance back, Brad is staring at me. Does he look relieved, or am I imagining it?
And that irks me. One minute, he’s sweet and adoring, and the next, he’s ignoring me. I’m being unreasonable. What did I expect? But that stupid part of my brain tells me Brad was flirting with me because that’s what he does. He flirts. He hooks up. Has he ever seriously dated someone?
And the way he was this week and how he’s being now, around my family, is what I have to look forward to. But I can’t deal with those thoughts, so instead, I wait for the perfect opportunity.
Brad needs to answer for this torture he’s putting me through.
But first, I need to ask the question.
