The table laughed at that—even Hilde.
“Dad, I know you’re spelling penis,” Brody commented.
Mark scowled at Hilde. “Why are they teaching our child how to spell penis in kindergarten?”
Hilde shrugged. “He’s an advanced reader.”
Mark looked at me then. “Do you like the barbeque sauce? It’s a family recipe.”
I glanced at Helene who was smiling sweetly at me, still with barbeque sauce in the corner of her mouth. All I could think about was licking it off and just how delicious Mark’s family recipe would taste on my tongue. And when my brain went there, my cock did too, and I ended up with a hard-on.
“Yes, it’s very good.” I commented.
I survived the rest of the meal without any more verbal assaults from Hilde, and when I stood to carry my plate to the sink, Helene followed me. Hilde nudged us both out of the way as she started rinsing dishes.
“Can you show me where the restroom is so I can wash my hands?” I eyed Helene’s lips even as I asked her the question.
“Sure.”
I followed her down a short hallway to a small half bath, and when she held her hand out toward the cramped little room, I grabbed it, pulled her in with me, and closed the door behind us.
“Look at those sweet little lips of yours,” I whispered in her ear as I turned her to face the mirror above the sink. I reached around her shoulder, clutching her lower jaw in my hand. She was far too busy studying my eyes to see the barbeque sauce. But when I stroked my thumb down the side of her jaw, it pulled her attention to the spot. Her eyes bulged as she took in the red sauce stuck in the corner of her mouth, and her cheeks turned pink.
“Lick it,” I whispered in her ear, and then I angled her face toward mine.
Her tongue ran to the corner of her mouth, and I leaned to her lips, holding my eyes open and on hers as I did. I licked the tip of her tongue as she shoved it into that crook of skin, and she hummed. But when she stopped licking, I didn’t. The laving soon turned into a kiss, and when my tongue slipped past her lips, she whimpered.
I turned her to face me, pushing her against the bathroom counter and never breaking from her mouth. My fingers ran through her hair, and my moan was laced with a sigh, breathy and heated. “Fuck, I need you,” I growled against her lips.
She shook her head, but her refusal was barely more than an idea, and clearly not one with much backbone to it. She kissed me harder, and it was a good minute of juvenile groping later before she finally made a real attempt at stopping this, and when she pushed me away with her forehead, I sighed.
I growled with my mouth to her neck. “Being hated by Hilde really makes me want to fuck her little sister in the bathroom of her own home.”
Helene laughed quietly. “Pinnacle of maturity you are.”
I laughed then, finally stepping back from her body. I stroked my bottom lip with my finger. “I have to say, Mark does make exceptional barbeque sauce.”
She ran her thumb over the corner of her mouth as she shook her head. I walked out, and she followed, and within moments, we were back in the kitchen—Hilde none the wiser, which was almost a shame in my opinion.
“Mark went outside,” she said to me. “Storm’s coming in, and he wanted to get the smoker in the garage. He’ll probably move my car out so it can be downpoured on just so he can protect that thing.” She actually smiled as she glanced over her shoulder.
“I’ll go see if he needs help.”
Helene smiled at me as I walked back out the slider to the patio.
The clouds were darker, and thunder was rumbling ominously in the distance. It was colder yet than it had been an hour earlier, and leaves whipped across the ground. It was the first week of October, almost eleven years to the day since I left this town. Hell and I had been in the second month of our senior year of high school, and it was two weeks before homecoming when the world came crashing down around us.
I’d been contemplating asking her to go. Actually, I’d been working up the nerve. I knew I was going to ask, but nothing with Helene was ever as simple as it was with other people. I knew if I asked it would change things for us. And I was terrified of that. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Homecoming was the stuff normal life was made of—not our lives. Our lives had been ruined by then.
I sighed as I looked up at the sky, and then I ducked into the garage.
“Hey,” I said to Mark.
He peered over his shoulder at me, smiling broadly. “Hi. I was afraid you’d get roped into dishes.”
“I escaped just in time.”
Mark was pushing the smoker back into a corner, and when he turned around he brushed his hands off. “Afraid that’s probably the last time I’ll use the smoker until spring.” He ran his hand over it as though it was a coveted thing.
The man definitely had a hard-on for his smoker.