I groan, standing, trying not to trip over the length of the robe, and straddle him on the chair. I maneuver so that his robe drapes off the sides and my pussy is sitting on top of his cock. It springs to life, thickening under my body. I smile. “Let’s go drifting away.”
“You mean . . .” He grabs my hips, his fingers searing my skin, and I move myself over him.
“Yeah. I mean. Let’s get a boat and a skipper or whatever you call it and go see shit.”
“Language, rudo.”
“Exactly. It’s just language,” I tease. “But I’m going to wear bikinis, so if that’s going to be an issue . . .”
His eyes light up again and my heart dances. I lift up on my toes and he grabs his cock and guides it into me. I sit down, the fullness taking my breath away.
“I’ll get a female captain,” he says roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You do that,” I breathe.
I begin to move, my clit rubbing against his hardness, and his gaze doesn’t bend from mine. It’s different this time, in the bright sunlight. Besides a couple of cotton robes, there’s nothing between us. And it’s never felt better.
“Turn here.” I point to my right and Fenton pilots his car onto my parents’ street. “I’ve never been so grateful for window tint before.”
Lining both sides of the street as we get closer are media trucks. Reporters stand on the sidewalks, along with some neighbors, old acquaintances, and other busybodies wanting to get a glimpse at Brady.
I send a quick text to my father and watch as almost immediately the garage door pulls open. “Dad opened the door. Just pull in the second bay.”
As the car slows, people try to peer in and see who we are. Brady is already home, but they apparently don’t know that.
I glance at Fenton to see his jaw pulsing. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t quite believe you.”
“I’m just nervous.”
“About what?” I laugh. “Seeing my family?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, hitting the driveway. “This isn’t a normal ‘meeting the family’. I was your brother’s employer. Your brother went missing. Are you sure your father isn’t going to try to slice my throat?”
“I’m sure, babe.”
The car stops inside the garage and the door closes swiftly behind us. We wait to open the doors until it hits the ground.
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper before opening my door. I’m at the front of the car before Fenton gets out, his hands shoving in his pockets. “Relax.”
“I’m trying.”
I pull a hand out of his pocket and lace my fingers through his. We take the couple of steps into the house. My entire family is in the kitchen, crock pots and cookie sheets lining every available spot.
“Geez, Mom. You weren’t kidding,” I laugh, taking a quick inventory of the dishes. “Did you make everything you have a recipe for?”
“Just about,” she laughs, whirling around and coming towards me. She takes a stutter step when she sees Fenton, but recovers quickly, pulling me in for a quick hug. “How are you, sweetheart?”
“Good,” I say. “This is Fenton. Fent, this is my mother.”
Mom wipes her hands on her apron and starts to stick her hand out to shake, then tosses it in the air and brings him into a hug. He looks at me over her head, patting her awkwardly on the back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears. “I mean that. I want to thank you—”
“Ah, Mrs. Calloway—”
“Don’t you dare call me that!” she grins. “Call me Mom or Andrea or something but there will be no formalities. You are family.”
His boyish smile slips across his face as he looks at my mother. My heart bursts with happiness, all of my people together. Finally.
“Andrea,” Fenton tries again, this time with a smile, “it’s not necessary to thank me for anything.”
“The hell it isn’t!” my father booms, rounding the corner. He extends a hand and Fenton takes it. “We can never thank you enough for what you’ve done.”
“I . . .”
“A damn hero. That’s what you are,” my father boasts, seeing me for the first time. “Hi, Brynne Girl.”
“Hi, Daddy,” I blush.
“Your brother filled us in.” He looks back to Fenton. “And I couldn’t be more proud to welcome you into our family.”
“What?” Fenton’s eyes go wide and he looks at me.
“Daddy, we’re just seeing each other. We didn’t get married overnight!”
“And I know what kind of girl you are and I know what kind of man he is,” he says, his hand going around my mother’s waist in a move that now means more to me because I know what that feels like, what it means. “So I know there’s no way he’ll let you go and vice versa. It’s a matter of time.”
“Well, let’s have a summer wedding,” Presley exclaims, coming in from the back porch, Brady on her heels. “Because the summery dresses are prettier as bridesmaid gowns.”
“Will you shut up?” I laugh.
Brady grins a shit-eating grin. “How are you, Fenton?”
“Good, my man.” He shakes my brother’s hand, his posture relaxing tenfold. “How ya feel?”