I mewed softly in response, unable to speak at the fullness I felt having him that way. I rolled my ass, teasing his cock, and he clamped his hand on my hip and ground into me. His breath at my ear sent tingles down my spine. He growled as his hand skidded up the front of my body and he cupped my jaw, bringing my lips to his. His tongue danced with mine, dipping in and out of my mouth, stealing my breath. Still gliding in and out of me, he licked his way down my jaw, twisting me so he could suckle my tightened bud. He sucked on it hard, biting down, and I moaned in ecstasy.
Blake cupped my breast in his hand and pushed his hard chest into my back, searching for his climax. “I’m gonna come. Come with me, baby. One more time.” He pushed further inside me, his hand coming around my belly to find my sweet spot. He flicked it between his fingers, and my body convulsed around his, bucking and shaking as he screamed my name with his release.
Still on our sides, we both melted into the mattress. My body lay limp in his arms, drained of everything. Blake ran his sexy feet up and down my calves, nuzzling into my neck. “Sleep. I want you in my arms all day.”
“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I love you, Blake Turner.”
“I love you more, Evangelina Ricci.” He kissed the top of my head, and his breathing became slow and even.
I prayed for the millionth time that it would always be this way.
“Check, one-two-three.”
I smiled at my dad as he and the band set up. Walking to the register, I leaned my hip against the back counter, popping some bar nuts into my mouth. “Thanks again for letting them play here. I really appreciate it.”
Rick smiled over the stack of bills in his hand. “Anytime, munchkin. You know I’d do anything for you.” He kissed my forehead. “Would you go grab the Coronas from the back? We’re kinda light up here.”
“Sure.” I stopped at the corner of the bar. “Ma, take a walk with me.”
My mom never missed my dad play. Thirty years later and she was still his biggest fan. They’d met when he’d been playing at a club in her neighborhood one night. She’d followed him home like a groupie and had been trailing him ever since. It was kind of cute when I thought about it.
“Grab a box, would ya?” The bottles clanked inside the heavy confines as I hoisted the load to my hip. “Got it?”
“Yeah.” My mom grunted as she lifted, struggling with the weight.
“You sure?”
Her green eyes gave me a pointed look. “Eva, I carried you around inside my body for a full nine months. I can carry some beer to the front.”
“Touché.”
Laden with clamoring boxes, we waddled by the band and a sharp whistle sounded through the speaker. My mom shook her head and blushed, acting as though she wasn’t used to my dad by now. I dropped my burden behind the bar and stood, blowing air up toward my forehead to rid loose strands of hair from my face.
“You almost ready, Big Joe? We’re about to open the doors,” Rick yelled over the bar.
“We’re good to go. Let them in,” my dad called into the mic.
He clapped his drumsticks together and began their rendition of A Hard Day’s Night by the Beatles. My dad played hard like a rock star. He lived for this stuff, and I always had a blast watching him. It never got old for me. He didn’t let his day job as an international banker ‘steal his soul’ as he liked to say. He always provided well for his family, while still holding onto his spirit, and I admired that.
Lately, things were slowly returning to normal, and I couldn’t have been happier. I was seeing my family more, relaxing around my friends, and the night terrors seemed to have stopped again. I had Blake to thank for it. He’d helped me to feel again. Live again. Be in the world instead of gliding in and out of each day with my head buried in the sand. I owed everything to him.
A few hours later, I needed a breather. I wiped the back of my arm across my forehead and took a sip of water, proud of how receptive everyone was to my father’s band. It always amazed me how young people enjoyed them just as much as the more suitable, older crowds. The place was packed with wall to wall bopping heads and dancing figures. Their cover of well-known, older rock like The Beatles was always a crowd pleaser.
I positioned a row of glasses, then shook the metal container between my hands and poured shots of snakebite in a single line. Setting the container down, I glanced to my right. Blake and Eric were laughing, joking the way they always did. Blake looked so relaxed with his hair gelled back, away from his face, a rosy hue to his high cheekbones. He seemed so carefree in his white V-neck, leaning one forearm on the bar. I pictured his black jeans perched on top of the barstool and got warm inside.
“I’m ready for another one, beautiful.” An empty Miller Lite bottle slid and hit the side of my hand.
A cool chill raced down the back of my neck, and my hand snapped back as I met the eyes I despised most. Gathering the pieces of my newly empowered fierceness, I straightened my spine, swiped the bottle, and threw it into the cardboard box under the bar. “Abby, too?”