Suddenly, his own hand clenched around mine and he forced my grip to tighten. Then he was filling my mouth. Filling it so fast I wasn’t sure I could swallow and keep up. The taste of him wasn’t vulgar, but it certainly wouldn’t go down as my favorite consumed meal. He was salty, warm, and a little bitter. The texture was thick and gooey. Don’t get me wrong, it was edible, just not something I would describe as delicious. I had read a book once that described the taste of semen as sweet, smooth, and earthy. Not…even…close. It kinda smelled like bleach. I let him slip from my mouth and glanced up into that handsome face that towered over me. The look of wonder and tenderness I saw was my undoing. Yeah, I’d swallow his slightly funky essence all freakin’ day long if that’s how he would look at me after.
“Country, that wasn’t at all how I intended for this to play out.” He reached down and gripped my arm, pulling me to my unsteady feet. “But that was by far the best blow job I’ve ever had.” Before I could respond, he kissed me. At first I was worried he might prefer not to taste himself in my mouth, but as his tongue pressed forward, I realized that he wasn’t bothered by it at all. As he shouldn’t be, I mean, it was his spunk. Knowing I had scored an A in oral sex had me secretly thrilled. I wanted to drop to my knees and do it again. Decker buried his head in my shoulder and I simply enjoyed the heat of his hard body pressed against mine. He was still breathing hard, trying to regain some equilibrium as I peered over his shoulder to the bookshelf opposite us. That’s when I noticed it, those books. My heart lurched, and my stomach rolled. I pushed Decker gently in a bid to get free. With some reluctance, he stepped aside. My body moved forward, numb and stupefied. My fingers rose to the flat edged binding of one of the books. The sight of it was like having a knife plunged in my heart, the feel of it under my hand was too much, and a garbled sob escaped my throat. I couldn’t deal with this, not now. It was too close to the day.
“I found them in a box out back. I thought you missed them by accident,” Decker whispered in an urgent voice.
I started pulling the books from the shelf. My father’s books, all twenty-eight of them, neatly displayed in alphabetical order. I pulled them from the shelf, trying to juggle them in my arms.
“Shit, Andi, I’m sorry. Let me help.”
Decker tried to reach for the books, and I pulled away, glaring at him.
“Go,” I managed to snap. A small part of me that was buried beneath the grief realized this wasn’t Decker’s fault; he didn’t realize how close it was to the anniversary, but I was too upset, too angry to embrace the truth.
“Let me help you,” he said, taking more of the books down from the shelf. I slapped them out of his hands and they tumbled to the ground. He was shocked, the stunned expression on his face hurt just as much as seeing these books.
“Please just go,” I begged him. With hesitancy and reluctance, he took a few steps away from me. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed. Decker winced, but compliantly turned and left.
I scrambled to pull the rest of the books from the shelf, and then knelt down, trying to stack them into my shaking arms, but they kept tumbling free, and just the sight of them was pushing me towards hysterics. It wasn’t just the sight of my deceased father’s books, but the timing. I hadn’t told Decker because I didn’t want him to act any differently towards me. His pity, that knowing look of sympathy that I wanted to avoid, would be written all over his face if he knew tomorrow was the one year anniversary of my dad’s death. The tears that fell from my eyes dropped in a steady cadence from my chin to the books beneath me. That pissed me off because I was worried about ruining them. A strong familiar hand gripped mine.
“Come on, Cinderella, let’s get you up stairs.” I looked up into Casey’s face. There was no pity there, only understanding and concern. Lionel stood behind me and gave me a gentle smile.
“Let Casey take you upstairs and I’ll tidy this up for you. I promise I’ll take good care of them.”
Casey pulled me to my feet and guided my listless body upstairs. It had been a long day. First Miles, now this. I felt drained to the point of disconnection. My shoulders were given a gentle push, and I slipped onto the couch. A blanket was thrown over my lap, and within minutes a fresh cup of coffee was placed in front of me. Casey sat at my side and enfolded me into his embrace, and a short time later, Lionel took up position on the other side of me. His arm draped over my shoulders, his hand resting affectionately on the back of Casey’s neck. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by their friendship and support.
Chapter 17