Hurrah for Present Kain.
Sammy had been delighted by my offer. I was dumb for making it, but I couldn’t take it back, not now. Seeing her so depressed and knowing I could relieve even some of that pain . . . I couldn’t have done anything else but help.
When I squeezed my motorcycle’s handlebars, I imagined the glittery heels that had recently been dangling there. When I’d arrived home after visiting the Dirty Dolls yesterday, I’d taken them inside with the clear plan of handing them back to Fran. What use did I have for pre-worn wedding shoes?
Instead, I’d passed by her room and tucked the glittery heels away in mine.
Somehow, I couldn’t give them up.
Maybe I need to see a therapist, I mused to myself. Isn’t this how freaky shrines with locks of hair get built? I’d figure out what to do with the damn things later. After all, I’d found my Cinderella; she was clinging onto my muscled torso with all her might.
The apartment complex was an easy drive. Last night, I’d parked out of view so no one would report a suspicious man hanging around, peeping on the elderly. With Sammy here, I drove into a wide-open spot and cut the engine.
She climbed down quickly, straight-up running over the asphalt and jumping the steps to one of the doors on the motel-like building. I caught up to her just in time to hear her knocking rapidly. “Mom?” Sammy asked, testing the knob—she had no keys, but the door swung inward with ease. “Hey! Mom! Are you okay? Mom!”
I’d only peeked into the windows last night—just to make sure the woman was in bed and alive. Seeing the place in the full light of a few tea-leaf-brown lamps, I wondered where I was supposed to sit. Everything was cramped and covered with papers or books.
An older woman with hair far longer than Sammy’s leaned into the main room. Small glasses were balanced on her nose. “You’re the one who’s late, give me a moment, I was just going through my planner—oh!” she squeaked, looking me up and down. “And who’s this sexy beast!”
Sammy went from relieved to uncomfortable, all in a single second. “Mom, no—Mom.”
Grinning madly, I made an exaggerated point of taking the older woman’s hand and kissing the back of it with a deep bow. “Kain Badd, at your service.”
When I stood back up, she was staring at me like she’d seen a ghost. I barely had a chance to process what I’d done wrong before that look was gone, replaced by a sweet and firm smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jean, but you can call me Mom.”
“Jean is more fitting,” I said politely. “You don’t look like any moms I know.” Inside, I was consumed with wonder over what had turned her skin so pale—well, paler, anyway. The woman didn’t look exactly healthy.
Wincing, she eased onto the couch. “This is why I didn’t see you this morning, hm? New boyfriend? The one you said wasn’t going to work out?”
Sammy’s jaw kept going lower. “Mom—”
“It’s fine, it’s fine!” She waved her hand by her cheek. “The guy is living man candy. I know you always had a sweet tooth.”
Okay. I adored this woman.
“No reason to lie,” I said, scooping an arm around Sammy’s waist. “Jean is right. Sorry for stealing your daughter away.”
Sammy was the brightest shade of crimson. Glancing at me, she said through her teeth, “I’ll try not to make a habit of being late again. Maybe Kain can help me with that.”
Her meaning was obvious. She wants me to break her out of the estate again. Right then, I might have promised to do it for her. I was sure my father would be upset, but Sammy and her mother . . . I could feel the love between them.
How could I choose to step between that?
Jean sat there with her head in her hands. “This is nice. So nice.” She eyeballed me, saying sweetly, “So you met the other day, hm? How long until I get some of those grandbabies I’ve been wishing for?”
“Mom!”
The rest of the visit went like that; Sammy enduring her mother’s jokes and me encouraging them with all my energy. As much as she blustered, Sammy was obviously having a great time.
I gave the older woman a hug good night—noting how she blatantly squeezed my ass. “So that’s where your daughter gets it,” I mumbled.
She just winked and cackled, shutting the door after a quick cheek kiss for Sammy.
Following Sammy down to the parking lot, I chuckled softly. “She’s nice.” When I looked up the stairs at the complex, I said, “I guess your dad wasn’t the only one to teach you good manners.”
“She’s nicer now. Before she got sick, and before Dad passed, she was a little harder to deal with. She hated me going off to New York—she’d never say it to my face, but it was obvious when she never came to visit.”
“People change.” Though not always for the better. Thinking about Costello and Francesca brought a stab of sadness.
Climbing onto the motorcycle, Sammy lifted her helmet but hesitated before putting it on. “You know, it’d be a shame to go straight back.”
Blinking, I made a face. “Oh, yeah?”
The edges of her mouth curled up. “Definitely. There’s this ice cream place right around the corner. Really delicious, but they’re only open on Thursdays, and . . . well, who knows when we’ll be back here.”
Starting the bike, I climbed on. “If you want ice cream, just ask nicely.”
Her arms came around, linking on my belt and hugging me against her. Tenderness flowed through the heat of her body. Over the rumble of the engine, she whispered into my ear. Each breath made my heart thump quicker. “Can we please get ice cream?”
The urge to bend her over the seat and take her right here was overwhelming. My mind was whirling with the image of those whispering lips curling around the tip of my rock-hard cock.
Did she know how sexy she was?
Reaching down, I grabbed her right hand. Sammy squeezed back, a romantic gesture. That was nice. You know what was nicer? When I slid her palm down, making her feel my dick as it strained to escape my jeans.
“Holy shit,” she gasped into my ear.
A sharp tingle rolled up my spine. Her honest exclamation was plain erotic. It also wasn’t doing much for making me want to take her to get ice cream. We’ll have time for more fun later. She’d be living with me for who knew how long.
I had a hunch we’d be taking advantage of that.
Fighting down my animal urge to rail her with my cock, I revved my motorcycle. “Put your helmet on,” I said, the headlights setting the lot on fire. “There’s only one cure for a massive hard-on.”
“What’s that?” she asked, teasing at my zipper like a damn succubus.
When I slammed the gas, propelling us forward, I clamped my hand on her arm to make sure she didn’t fly off the bike. “Driving like a madman!” I shouted, the mechanical roar starting to blur my voice. “Fear of death is pretty good at making you focus on something beyond sex!”