“I don’t think I ever will.” Her eyes held mine through the mirror.
I stretched out behind her, and her gaze fell to my chest and then lower to my hard cock. I winked at her. “I’ll be ready in five.”
She smiled at me, and that heat inside me only burrowed deeper.
Fuck, everything was worth that smile.
I got dressed, and grabbed Jill a banana and a yogurt from the kitchen for a quick breakfast in my truck. We stopped at Rae’s, so she could change, see her daughter, and reassure Rae that she was fine.
At the doctor’s office in Rapid, Grace was waiting for us in the parking lot. Once we all got upstairs, the receptionist ushered Jill in right away with Grace at her side.
I sat in the waiting room and stretched my legs, my shades still on. I didn’t have to remove them. They adjusted in the light into a groovy purply tone. It also kept people away. I didn’t like people in general. Most bikers I knew didn’t either.
A woman in a very tight suit with a briefcase at her side lifted her head from her cell phone and stared at me, a thin eyebrow poking up her forehead. I glared at her, and she went back to tapping on her phone. A pregnant woman was reading a picture book to her young son who was eating a chocolate bar. He looked up at me, and I gave him a tight grin.
I flipped through a parenting magazine and skimmed an article on prepping for the baby’s arrival. I tossed it and shuffled through the other magazines on the table at my side. Celebrity gossip rags, health and exercise rags, pregnancy and delivery— Ugh, no, thanks.
I’d been to a lot of places, but a gyno’s office was not one of them.
“Oh, Brent, honey, let me clean your hands and mouth,” said the mom, putting down the storybook. “What a mess!” She wiped down his hands with a wet wipe.
A mess.
Gets messy.
“Very messy.”
I took in a breath and leaned over, my elbows on my knees.
I was fifteen years old at the genesis of my big mess.
Spanish curses, slaps, and a woman’s squeaks and breathy shouts echoed through the thin walls of the apartment.
“He’ll be done soon. Come here.”
Inès shivered, her teeth chattering, as she wrapped her slim body up in mine.
“I hate it when he does this,” she whispered.
“I know. Me, too.”
The sounds of my Uncle Johnny screwing some puta, as he called the women he brought home, from his room next to ours was a frequent ritual. His Spanish only came to life when he was mad, drunk, or screwing women, which was most of the time.
This was home for the last five years.
It was Inès’s home though, not mine. Inès and I had shared a bed since I’d first come to live with them, but now, I was fifteen going on sixteen and she was fourteen. It was hard for me—emphasis on hard—when she would curl up against me in the middle of the night or cuddle up in my arms after a nightmare, which was pretty frequently. She had turned into this pretty, curvy girl all of a sudden. Just like the girls at school I liked to stare at.
Inès had lost her mom in a car accident long before I had lost mine, and her dad had turned into a freak show.
She had me, and we had each other. We cooked, shopped for food with whatever money he’d left for us, did our laundry at the crap Laundromat down the street, and managed to get our homework done.
Uncle Johnny’s grunting grew more intense, and the woman started letting out more of those weird squeaking noises.
Inès’s fingers traced a lazy trail across my chest and down my middle.
“Don’t.”
“Ticklish?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then, what?” she asked, her fingers still stroking me.
“Just—don’t.”
I was too embarrassed to tell her, but it was painfully obvious and getting more and more painful all the time.
“I know.”
I blew out a breath of air. “What do you know?”
“It’s this, isn’t it?” Her hand stroked over my huge erection.
“Stop it!” I clamped a hand on her wrist.
She planted a kiss on my chest and kept stroking me.
“Shit, stop it,” I breathed, my hips moving.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
Her palm cupped my balls over the thin cotton of my boxer briefs, and my body jerked. I choked on a moan.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” I said through my gritted teeth.
She lightly stroked me up and down, up and down. “Have you done it before? With Lucy?”
Lucy, a girl who liked me at school. She’d only let me cop a feel of her tits so far.
“No.”
A noise rolled in the back of Inès’s throat as her hand kept moving over me. My muscles were on fire. I was on fire. Should I let myself react? It was too difficult not to react, so difficult to hold it back.
“Oh,” fell out of my lips.
The pear scent of the shampoo we both used floated through me as her head shifted over my chest.
Her hand slid under the waistband of my worn-out boxers.
“Ah, Inès!”