I recently went to my 20th high school reunion. I have been out of high school for two decades, have two lovely preteen daughters, a great husband, and numerous pets, but at the reunion I felt like I was fifteen years old again. I felt the same way when I had my first child. I remember looking down at her in my arms at the hospital and thinking, "You should not be going home with me. Are these doctors and nurses crazy? Can't they see this is way over my head?" She and I muddled through; she must have sensed the precarious predicament she was in and took pity on me. She was slept through the night early on and had the sweetest disposition.
Do you remember what fifteen feels like? The uncertainty and the excitement and the terror? You have this entire life that is waiting for you to just do something with it. At fifteen, I also wrote romance novels by hand and read them during recess and lunch far, far away from teachers. In fact, all of my classmates remembered me as the girl who wrote "those stories." I can't remember much about these stories, but I am sure there were depressed heroines, emotionally unavailable heroes (is there anything more attractive to a teenage girl than a boy out of her league?) and a lot of inaccurate sexual details and exploits. But what I do remember is the sheer pleasure that writing these stories brought me. And so I started writing them again, hopefully with better heroes and heroines, more interesting plots, and really fun and accurate sexual exploits.
This is a blog about writing, but more than that, it is a blog about doing whatever it is that you truly love. We should all do whatever it is that makes us feel fifteen again - the excitement and the terror and the awe in knowing that life is just waiting for you to do something with it.
Here are the blurb and the first three chapters from my contemporary romance, Princess Charming.
I hope you enjoy it! The entire novel can be downloaded for free at
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/322938
Princess Charming
Princess drives into her
hometown, Kingstree, North Carolina, on fumes and Xanax. She is running from a past defined by tragedy
and, hopefully, straight into the arms of Gabe Connor. He is the one man she can’t have and can’t
forget. She doesn’t count on the serial killer that makes her sleepy hometown
his hunting grounds. As dead bodies pop
up like weeds in quiet Kingstree, and Gabe fends her off at every turn, she
decides to buckle down, get off the Xanax, and write her own happy ending. She just needs to catch a killer and hogtie
prince charming first.
He
never forgot the smell of roses as she lay beneath him, her cries, or the way
his fist sunk into her flesh again and again and again.
She
laughed at him like she was too good for him.
The first time she told him no he came with flowers. He stood on her porch, sweating from the
humidity despite the shade while her little girl played in the front yard. She wouldn’t even take the flowers. Just told him that she didn’t want him, gave
him some lemonade, and sent him on his way.
He
came back with wine and candy and more flowers. And he kept coming back,
despite Aher objections. It got to the
point where she’d start frowning when she saw his car like he was some kind of
stray hound nipping at her heels.
He
started to hate her. The hate added fuel to the lust. She must have seen it. He smelled fear on her whenever he stopped
by. She didn’t greet him on the
porch. When she saw him coming, she
grabbed her little girl, ran into the house, and locked the door.
He’d
had wife, a pale little blond thing with rabbit teeth. She left him when she got tired of his fist
plowing into her face. She went back to
her people in Georgia,
and he was more than happy to see her go.
But
this woman. He went to sleep with her vision stored tight behind his closed
eyelids and woke up hungry for her in the morning.
He
planned for weeks, relishing each detail, the planning a kind foreplay. What he would do to her, how he would hurt her,
show her. She’d never say no to him
again.
No
sir, not ever again.
When
he got to the house, she met him with tears and fury. She was the most
beautiful woman in North Carolina
– probably in the South and she stood there with panic blooming on her face,
gasping for breath, her only defense a butcher knife.
It
was easy getting the knife away from her, easy to drag her down to the floor,
tear her clothes from her body.
It
wasn’t until he was done that they remembered the girl. He looked for her for
hours, until he heard a car coming up the road.
But
he never, ever forgot. And he watched. And he waited.
Prin
drove into Kingstree on fumes and Xanax.
She was so desperate to get the hell out of Charlotte she forgot to fill up the gas tank,
and the Xanax kept those annoying little panic attacks away.
She
pulled into the local BP gas station.
She could take care of the gas.
Taking care of her big bag of crazy was another matter entirely. Mr. Hubert came out to the pump. She hadn’t seen him since the last time she
was home and he streaked bare assed down Lee Street after last call at the
Catfish. It wasn’t a sight she was soon
to forget.
He
leaned into the car. His breath smelled
like mint and his full white beard made him look like a sun baked Santa in the
summer sun. “Prin. How are you,
sweetheart?”
So
it began. The looks and whispers and
curiosity and pity. She knew what she
was coming home to, but staying in Charlotte
was no longer an option. “Fine, Mr. Hubert.
Better than I ought to be, and luckier than I deserve.”
Mr.
Hubert tugged at his beard, trying to think of something to say. He must have fallen short because all he
offered was, “Prin, this too shall pass.”
She
nodded her head. “I hope so. Pray I’m
still standing when it does.” It was
hard to talk to him and not see him naked. Prin shuddered at the image.
“I
certainly will. You come on by and let
Lizzy know if you need anything.”
“Thank
you, Mr. Hubert. How is Ms. Lizzy?”“She’s
fine. Being run ragged by all the
grandkids.”
Mr.
Hubert and Ms. Lizzy had been married thirty odd years, had three children, and
enough grandchildren to start their very own football team. “Tell her I’ll stop by after I settle.”
“That
I will, Prin. That I will. I saw your Poppop. He sure is relieved to have you home.”
“Yes,
he is, but we all know he never wanted me to leave in the first place.”
Mr.
Hubert was too polite to point out that Poppop had not only been right but
prophetic. Poppop told her nothing good
was going to come out of her hightailing it to Charlotte.
Prin
drove through Kingstree with the windows down so she could take deep breaths of
the sweet summer. It took her less than fifteen minutes because that’s how
small Kingstree was. It had Lee Street, the main artery of the town, surrounded
by streets named after lesser confederate generals (Johnston, Polk, Ramsuer)
and, after the Civil Rights Movement, leaders of slave rebellions (Prosser,
Vesey, Turner). Kingstree took its
history seriously.
Lee Street
housed City Hall, the police station and jailhouse, and an entire assortment of
small businesses: The one lawyer and doctor in town, Catfish, Ms. Althea’s
diner where Annie Rose was the chef and where Mr. Hubert never missed last call,
a craft shop, and a bookstore. Big Macs
and Route 66 jeans could only be had on the expressway coming into town.
When
she pulled up to Poppop’s, Annie Rose was waiting on her, her curly red hair,
which was her pride and joy, blowing like a flag of welcome. She fisted her hands on her curvy hips and smiled
wide. Her milk white skin was already
red from the sun, but Annie Rose was too vain to wear a hat. She just slathered on sunscreen and hoped for
the best.
It
was Annie Rose who ran up to Charlotte when the shit hit the fan, stayed with
her as she made the not so hard decision to leave, and helped her pack up her
small apartment. It took less than two
weeks to box up four years of her life.
Annie
Rose dragged Prin out the car and straight into her arms. They had been best friends since first grade
when Annie Rose was teased because of her red hair and Prin because her Mama
was the other woman. The other woman was
still something to gossip and gasp over in small southern towns. Prin couldn’t
imagine what it might have been like for Mama almost thirty years ago.
“Princess,
you are a sight for glad eyes. How was the drive, sweetie? You should have let me come up and drive back
with you. I don’t see why you had to go
and play Joan of Arc.”
Only
Annie Rose and Poppop ever called her by her ridiculous first name. What was her mama thinking? Prin tied her hair in a loose knot at the
nape of her neck. “Yes, well, since you were about to get fired because you ran
to my rescue the first time, I didn’t think it’d be fair to call you
again. You need that job.”
Annie
Rose laughed, “No, I don’t either. I’m
about to find some naïve man to take care of me in the manner I deserve.”
“Good
luck to you. Poppop home?”
Annie
Rose started unloading the car. “You
think Mr. Jim going to miss a day of work?
Not hardly. I’m all you got right
now, so let’s get to work.”
It didn’t take them long to get her every
single possession in life unpacked and stored neatly in her old room. Poppop didn’t believe in change the way revival
preachers believed in old school religion and an eye for an eye. Her room was the same as when she left
it. White washed walls, pastels curtains
and bedspreads, and old furniture that she and Annie Rose spent an entire week
painting white their sophomore year in high school. They were going for shabby chic at the time
but ended up with just plain shabby.
After
they were done, they sprawled on the bed.
Annie Rose at the foot and Prin at the bottom just like they used to
when the only real worry they had was who was going to ask them to the latest
school dance. The ceiling fan hummed as
Annie Rose studied Prin’s face feature by feature.
Finally,
she came to a verdict. “Well, you look
better. Got some of your weight
back. Unlike me, you cannot afford to
loose a few pounds. And you don’t look
quite so shell shocked. You scared the
hell out of me in Charlotte. I don’t ever want to go through that again.”
Leave
it to Annie Rose to write her lovely self into the tragedy. She couldn’t help it like she couldn’t help
her red hair, milk skin, and honey accent. But without her, Prin would still be
curled up on the bathroom floor in Charlotte.
“I
wished I felt as good as I apparently look.
I feel like I’m walking around with my insides on the outsides.”
“Insides
on the outsides?”
“You
know, raw and oozing and bleeding. I
hurt just about everywhere.”
“Thanks
for the visual, sweetie. Okay. None of
that now. You couldn’t do anything to
prevent what happened to that child, and you can’t do a thing to change it.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel like I did enough, Annie Rose.”
Annie
Rose sat straight up, and her eyes were sharp with sympathy. “Maybe, but maybe it wouldn’t have changed a
thing. You can’t play that game because
there’s no winning to it.”
“You’re
right, Annie Rose. I know you’re right. I’m counting on you not to let me wallow in
self pity or run straight into crazy.And just so we’re clear, I’m more
concerned with running into crazy.”
Annie
Rose lay back down on the bed. “Don’t
you worry any more about it, and if I can’t keep you from crazy, I’ll sign on
for the ride.”
It
was the sweetest relief that after everything Prin could still laugh.
The
North Carolina
sun sat heavy on Prin’s back as she made her way down the long stretch of dirt
road leading to the creek and away from the house she shared with Poppop since
the night Mama died. She tried not to
think about that night because the only thing she remembered was Poppop pulling
her away from Mama.
And,
really, she was already on Xanax and had nightmares and cold sweats that had nothing
at all to do with Mama.Still, her therapist, Belinda with the soothing voice
and sweet eyes, said one day it might come back to her when she least expected
it.
Belinda
was the only thing she was going to miss about Charlotte.
Finding a good therapist was like finding a good husband. It took a lot of time and effort and
compromise and even then there were no guarantees. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it ended in
a messy breakup.
The
green woods of Kingstree swallowed her.
She stopped, took of her shoes, and carried them in one hand so she
could feel the dirt between her toes. She just wanted to walk around, get her
bearings, and reacquaint herself with the town that was in her blood and flesh.
She
loved the pace and the way there was never any rush to go anywhere, to do
anything. She loved the people, and knew
everyone in town by name. But it was
enough to choke her during high school, and especially right after college when
all she wanted was to be grown and not have everybody know every little thing
about her life.
It
was like jail, being surrounded on all sides by lovable prison guards who had her
best interests at heart, or at least said they did.
She
knew better. Some folks were just
gossips and loved to tell a tale or spread a rumor. That was what ruined things between her and
Gabe. Small town gossip and speculation
just about broke her heart. Granted,
there was never actually anything between them, but she was working on it, and
almost brought him round to her way of thinking.
She
veered deeper into the woods, and the shelter of the trees. She walked until she hit the creek. She sat her shoes on the bank, pulled her
dress higher up her thighs and stepped in, careful of the sharp rocks lining
the bottom.
“I’ve
been waiting on you to get on home, Prin.”
She
lost her footing and fell in the creek.
Gabe
Conner smiled down at her as she stared up at him wide eyed, legs sprawled,
showing a hint of hot pink panties.Her legs were long, darker than the skin of
her thighs from sun exposure. Her hair
had loosened from her ponytail, was wild about her face, fell down her back
in soft, black curls. She continued to
gape at him, the soft pink of her tongue showing between her teeth.
He
felt his cock harden at the sight of her pink tongue, her red mouth, and frantically
started counting in his head. There was
still ten years age difference between them no matter how he added it up.
And
this wasn’t some little glad to be home visit for her. She was coming home for good wounded and
tired. He might as well set up his umbrella
in Hell now for thinking about her naked underneath him.
He
bent down to lift her from the creek. She
was slender, didn’t quite reach his heart.
He was big, had played football in high school and college because of
his weight and size and because Football was the second most popular religion
in the South after good old fashioned Baptists. His transformation into sheer
bulk and muscle was completed by the Marines and two tours of duty in Iraq. He was a hard son of a bitch and he knew
it. Way too hard for a woman as sweet as
Prin.
He
lifted her easily against him. It about
killed him to think of her alone and hurting up in Charlotte far from her
people and anyone in the world that really cared about her. He almost drove up to get her till Annie Rose
talked him out of it by reminding him she wasn’t sure if Prin
would let him past the front door.
Her
body was sun baked, fragrant with amber, infinitely fragile in his arms. She tried to pull away, but he held tight
until she settled. And they stayed that
way while Black Bellied Plovers flew overhead and the humidity sank into their
skin. Since he could remember all of his
summers included her tagging along beside him when he was a boy, and then
later, as he ran headlong into manhood and wanted nothing to do with little
girls, sprinting to keep up with him.
She
was good and grown but he couldn’t forget those long summer days he spent
helping her dig up garden snakes, build mud pies, and teaching her how to swim at
the lake. When he closed his eyes, she
was still that skinny little girl with big eyes and curly hair hiding her face.
Most
of the time, he was still able to think of her that way. He only had problems when she was flush
against him, warm, curvy, and so sweet she made his back teeth ache. He put her
away from him before she could feel his erection rubbing against her soft
belly.
She
smiled at him, and pulled the damp dress self consciously from her legs. “Hey, Gabe.
How you been?”
Her
voice was deep, slow, peppered with the
Southern drawl that was native to North Carolina, and made him want to suck the
words from that red mouth, suck on that pretty pink tongue. But she was sidestepping everything that went
down in Charlotte,
pretending that all was sunshine and lemonade in her world.
“Good. Missed you, though.” He reached out to touch the silk of her hair,
thick and heavy. He ran his hands
through it, and she was easy with his touch, leaned into his hand. “You’re okay, Prin?”
Her
eyes narrowed and she barred her teeth.
“I am fine. Just Fine. I don’t want anyone else to ask me that
question as long as I live, Gabe.”
She
was never easy so to speak, but that was part of her charm. “Yup, sounds like you’re just dandy.”
She
had the grace to look away, and then she laughed. She had always been able to laugh at herself,
and that was part of her charm as well.
“Sorry. Mr. Hubert down at the gas
station already put his two cents in and then Annie Rose had to do her follow
up. I’m feeling a bit raw right now. So, maybe I’m not quite fine, but I’m not
falling to pieces either. Don’t you
worry none, Gabe, and don’t go back spreading tales to your mama and
daddy. That’s all I need.”
“I
have no tales to spread. You know if you
need me, all you have to do is holler.”
She
glanced up at him from beneath her lashes and reminded him of all the times he
had to sidestep her clumsy attempts at seduction before she moved to Charlotte. “Yeah, but will you come, Gabe?”
“I’ll
come running. You know that, Prin.” And he had never meant anything more. He still remembered the first time he noticed
her, really looked at her. Her grandfather
had come to speak to Daddy after he found the night her mother died. Her grandfather, Mr. Jim, and his Daddy were
good friends, served early on in Vietnam together, and came home in
one piece before the war ended. Mr. Jim
had come into the house, holding Prin like he was afraid to put her
down. Prin hadn’t looked around, had
stared straight in front of her.
Daddy
made him take Prin outside. She was just a little thing and he was already in
middle school. She came to him without a
fight, rested easy in his arms, and he had carried her out back, sat on the
porch with her, and rocked her as they both listened to Mr. Jim crying.She didn’t
cry, just stared up at him, her gaze locked to his face, her brown eyes huge.
He
started picking her up to go to school, taking her home because for a good year
Mr. Jim was inconsolable, unable to do any of those things, unable to even get
out of bed some days. Mama braided Prin’s
hair at night, fed her dinner, helped her with her baths, and then he or Daddy
drove her home. His younger brothers,
Collin and Sean, played with her to keep her occupied, tried to make her smile.
She talked a lot, was one of those children who was constantly
into something. She liked her books, she
liked to run amuck, and most of all she liked him.
And
he adored her, just like Mama and Daddy and his brothers. She was beautiful, like her mama had been beautiful. She had her Mama’s features, her bone
structure, and the same slightness of build.
Her mama, according to Daddy, had men from three counties hounding after
her. He took a step back, sat, and pulled
her down next to him.
“Nice
way to cool off.” he said, gesturing to the wet skirt that clung to her legs.
“Hot
as it is it’ll dry soon.” Her hands
pulled at the grass at her sides and the smell of earth, dark and sweet,
saturated the air. Her fingers were long
and slender, her nails painted a soft pink.
He could not resist, tangled his fingers with hers, and pulled at the
grass until the dirt stained their hands.
“Does
it feel good to be home?”
She
crossed her legs and her wet skirt pooled in her lap. “You know, I spent most of my life plotting
on how to get out of here. I thought I
had enough of small towns to last me at least two lifetimes. But here I am. Back again.”
“It
doesn’t have to be forever, Prin. Not if
you don’t want it to. Just because you’re back doesn’t mean that your life’s
cut off at the knees or you have no options.”
“That’s
exactly how I feel. Like my life, such
as it was, got cut off at the knees.”
He
squeezed her hands. “That’s the South in you.
No need to be a drama queen.”
She
pulled her hands away from his and punched him in the stomach, leaving a
handprint on his white t-shirt. He
grunted obligingly as she laughed at him.
“Shame on you, not letting me wallow in my misery. You, Gabe Conner, are no gentleman.”
“Never
said I was. Besides, you got enough
people going to let you wallow. I bet
Annie Rose is treating you like spun silk and your Poppop like porcelain. That’s not what you need.”
She
was no longer laughing. She rolled her
eyes. “Since when, Gabe, did you get to be the authority on me? Tell me so I
can be sure to listen the next time you give me unsolicited advice.”
He
wanted to tell her he would always be the authority on her. He wanted to tell her he went to sleep
dreaming about her and woke up with her still on his mind.He wanted to tell her
she was the yardstick he used for other women who, no matter how hard they
tried, never measured up because they weren’t her. He wanted to tell her he studied her the way
preachers studied the Bible and gamblers studied a deck of cards.
He
said instead, “Don’t pretend that I don’t know you inside out, Prin. That’s what happens when you’ve been friends
with someone most of all your life. And
right now, you don’t need coddling or pity, you need someone to take a firm
hand.”
She
sputtered, “You mean you, Gabe? You’re
going to take a firm hand to me? Last
time I checked, I was not a five year old girl and I didn’t need anyone to
handle me, thank you very much.”
Oh,
he’d like to. He wanted nothing
more. “I know you’re not a little
girl. You can rest assured on that
point. And I didn’t say I was going to
take you in hand. Not necessarily, but I
will if need be.”
She
tried to stand up but got tangled in her wet skirt and trapped by his hand on her
wrist. “I am more than done with this
conversation and you for the day. Maybe
for the rest of the week. Let me go,
Gabe.”
She
was annoyed, no doubt about it, but she no longer looked breakable or
devastated. She no longer looked so
fragile he was scared to touch her.
He
knew better. He surely knew better, but
he tugged sharply on her wrist until she was flush against him. “Not yet, Prin. Not just yet.”
Gabe’s
neck was sweat glazed and soft, and the shadow of his dark beard scraped against
her cheek. She inhaled his shampoo, aftershave,
and butterscotch breath. Beneath it all his own individual scent made her want
to lock her arms around him and hold tight.
Why
couldn’t it be like this with other men?
She
tried. Lord knows she tried. First thing she did when she got to college
was rid herself of her virginity with the nicest boy she could find, Bill.He
was sweet and nonthreatening, and always wanted to share everything. He loved
listing his feelings and questioning her feelings and wondering where the
relationship was going or if she was really committed. He tried to talk her into an orgasm.
After the fiasco with Bill, she tried with her last
boyfriend. Just as sweet. Just as nice.
The kind of man that asked politely before he touched her.Neither of
them ever stoked heat beneath her skin until she was overripe and tender. No one but Gabe. And he wouldn’t let her have him.
“Gabe, I’ve just about had enough of you and your
teasing. Last time we ended up here you
told me, quite emphatically if I remember, that no means no.” Prin still smarted from the humiliation. Just her luck to be stuck on a man that
didn’t want a woman to have her wicked way with him.
His hands circled her waist, and his rough palms snuck
under her shirt and almost spanned the entire length of her back. He was so big and hot and male he made her
feel every inch of her body, made her plaint.
She wanted nothing more than to whisper, do it. Anything you want. Everything you want. Just, please, do it.
But she knew how this would end, how it always ended. She couldn’t take more rejection from him,
not right now when her world was crumbling bit by bit around her. “Gabe, I mean it…”
His mouth shut her up but good. His lips just skimmed hers, soft skin against
soft skin, until she wanted to swallow his butterscotch breath, swallow each
and every part of him. She gave up, not
that she fought all that hard. She never
fought all that hard with him and that was probably her greatest downfall. He was her Achilles heel. She tangled her fingers in his thick, dark hair. The strands were like frayed silk against her
fingertips. The only way she was letting
go was if God himself dragged her off of him.
Gabe’s hands traveled up and down her back, the
lightest of touches, as his kiss forced her head back. The taste and thrust of his tongue, the
smoothness of his teeth and cheeks all left her in a kind of dazed frenzy. She
didn’t have to think about responding, didn’t have to anticipate his every move
and then counter. All she had to do was
feel. He made her a creature entirely of
sensation, and she drowned in it even as she realized, if she had any sense at
all, she’d be sprinting for the nearest shore.
His mouth traveled along her cheek, down her jaw, then
skated her hairline. He was patient,
curious, and innovative. It was like he
had no interest at all in ordinary sex, like it was a waste of his time and
what he wanted from her required her body and soul and zealous
participation.She fantasized about him sucking toes, licking necks and the
backs of thighs. Even now his tongue ran
lightly along her scalp between her side part.
It was like Gabe was an entirely different species from the other men
that she’d been with.
He laid her on the ground, and the smell of damp soil
and green grass swamped her as his body blocked out the sun. His hands framed her face and he held
perfectly still until she opened her eyes.
His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen from their kisses, his dark
blue eyes heavy lidded and hot.
It didn’t make any sense for her to love him like she
did, especially when he wanted no parts of her.
Knowing Gabe, this was probably a bid to make her feel better. He’d been riding to her rescue, much to her
annoyance, her entire life. It was
doubtful that he’d stop now. And didn’t it just make her pitiful that she’d
take whatever he gave her.
The weight of his gaze made her nervous. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. She worried her lower
lip with her teeth until his fingers rubbed away the sting.
“What happened to the guy you were seeing, Prin? Kevin?
Kyle?”
He would ask about that. He didn’t want any parts of her love life,
but he liked periodic updates.
“Keith. Turns out he wasn’t the
staying kind. First little hint of
trouble and he scurried off.” She
couldn’t blame him. If there was any way
that she could have run, she would have taken it. Problem was she couldn’t run from
herself.
He eyes got even hotter and he growled, “Idiot. He was an idiot.”
He had no right to be possessive, no right to make her
think that whatever was between them was going to end differently or ever
actually be real and not something she fantasized while downing an entire
bottle of Cabernet by herself. “You know
what, Gabe? I only seem to be attracted
to idiots. Guess I’m just lucky that way.”
He actually had the nerve to laugh. “Now Prin, you know that’s not nice.”
He settled his body on top of hers, his weight and
strength anchoring her solidly to the ground. She felt each and every inch of
her body as his weight forced her hips deeper in the dirt. He nuzzled her neck, her chin, and her cheeks
while the sun shone down on them like revelation and the insects buzzed at her
ears.
She couldn’t help circling her hips or wrapping her
legs about his waist. One of his big hands caged her wrists above her head until
she was stretched taunt beneath him, and her body arched hard in a sharp bite
of lust. His mouth parted, and she caught a glimpse of his tongue right before
she closed her eyes. It was beyond her
to keep them open. He closed his mouth over hers, licked at her lips until they
parted for him. She trembled, trying to
get closer, and he pushed her down into the grass, pushed her down into the
ground. She opened for him and his
tongue went deep. He sucked on her
tongue as she whimpered. He gave her his
full weight and spread her legs.
She wanted nothing more than to pull up her skirt and let
him have her in the dirt.
He pulled away from her and she heaved against him in
protest. “Easy, baby, easy. I’ve got
you.”
His mouth was at her neck, kissing sweetly, and then
biting hard. She felt marked, owned, and
she arched up into the caress. He bit
her again, and ground himself against her.
“You want this?” His mouth was at her ear, the erotic heat of
his breath beating against her.
She had fantasized about him for years. “You are such a tease, Gabe.”
“You want this?”
She had no defenses against him. “Yes.”
He pulled on her hair. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes, watched as he unbuttoned her
shirt. His blue eyes were bright in his tan face. He unhooked the front clasp
of her bra and she wanted to scream as her breasts were bared for him.
She couldn’t hold the words back, and really, what did
it matter? She’d said them before for
all the good they’d done her. “I want
you, Gabe.”
“How long?” He
asked, his free hand holding her by the jaw, keeping her gaze on his face.
“Always Gabe.
Always.”
He bent his head to her breasts. “Watch me. I want you to watch me.”
He let go of her wrist to hold her breasts together
and kiss both nipples, pull both nipples into his mouth. He pulled at them so deep that she felt it throughout
her body. He moaned at her breasts, and she
felt her stomach tighten.
“Lord above, you are beautiful.” His hand moved down
across her stomach, reached for the hem of her damp skirt and pulled it
up until it rested high around her waist.
He cupped her, and she stilled.
He slid her panties aside, encountered soft, vulnerable skin.
He shuddered, pulled himself away from her, until he
was on his knees, between her thighs, ripping her panties off. Neither Keith nor Bill had ever ripped her
panties from her body.
She felt him staring down at her, felt his hands
running over her.
“Look at you.
So pretty and sweet.” His tone
made her move against his hand, begging him to touch her.
His fingers parted her, his thumb tracing her. She
looked up at him, his face was flushed, his nostrils flared. “Tell me to kiss
your pussy.”
She stilled, shocked, slightly embarrassed. She had thought that word, but had never said
it aloud.
His thumb worked her slowly in circles, barely
touching, teasing. “Tell me to kiss you.”
He was moving between her legs, his breath feathering
against her thighs, his mouth nibbling at the tender skin there. “Tell me to
kiss your pussy, Prin. Please, tell me
baby.”
She was almost incoherent. “Please, Gabe. Please kiss my pussy.”
He licked her slowly while she watched clouds lazily
drift in the blue sky overhead. “Tell me again, sweetheart. Tell me like you mean it.”
She lifted to him. “Please, kiss my
pussy, Gabe.” She had never meant
anything more in her life.
She felt a tightness running down her legs, rumbling
through her stomach, a pleasure so sharp and sweet she had no words for it as
his tongue lapped at her before his mouth settled sweetly where she needed him
most. He suckled, gentled, kissed her
like he would kiss her mouth, tender.
He rose over her, tore off his shirt, unfastened his
jeans, and his cock sprang free. Her
body ached like a sore tooth. She
reached out and touched him, her hands circling as he drew in his breath
sharply. His hands closed around hers,
moving her fist up and down.
He settled between her legs, and she almost fainted
with joy because it looked like finally this was about to happen.She pulled his
head down to her and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Gabe Connor. I’ll always love you.”
Her words brought him to his senses. He pulled away from her, looked at the
picture she made sprawled out beneath him, her hair wild about her head.But it
was her eyes, liquid and huge, promising him everything that he ever wanted that
made him stop.
She smiled up at him, sad and sweet, while her hands
lifted to cradle his face. She should be
slapping at him, at the very least shoving him off of her, but there was
nothing but understanding in her gaze and a tired acceptance. “It’s okay, Gabe. It’s okay.”
He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he wasn’t
sure if he could live without her, that he needed her more than he needed food
and water. But there was ten years
between them, and from the first moment he started wanting her he knew it was
wrong. He’d have to fight his daddy and
her Poppop and his mother might just disown him.
He’d happily face all that if he didn’t feel he was
stealing the best years of her life from her.
If he got his hands on her, he’d never let her go. He’d tie her to him using any means at his
disposal. He was primitive enough to
want her pregnant and glowing at his side, to take care of all her needs. He loved hard and he had always loved her to
the point of obsession.
She pushed at his chest, and he fell over to his back. Her hair tickled his belly and thighs. Her soft hands circled him and set up a slow
pumping that had him moving his hips to her pace. The entire time she kept her eyes locked on
his face. Her gaze swallowed him whole
and he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her, to let her nourish and
sustain him. And pleasure him. No way could he forget about that.
Her hands kept up that slow, steady rhythm, never
picking up the pace, never hurrying as if she’d been waiting her entire left to
touch him. He gave himself over to her
as the tension left his body and he relaxed into the sweetness of her
hands. He came with his eyes still on
hers feeling unspeakably vulnerable as she watched every grimace and shudder,
as she watched
the color bloom on his face.
When he was done, she laid down beside him in the
grass, flesh to flesh. She collapsed
against him like she was a deflated balloon, her body warm and supple and sweat
misted against his. Her breathing slowed
down and evened out into a sigh. They
rested together. He didn’t want to break
the silence, didn’t want to move, just stay with her like this with the sun on
their faces and the grass at their backs.He stayed that way a long time,
unwilling to pull way from her and see the damage he’d done.
He slowly sat up and looked down at her. There were bruises forming at her breasts and
hips, and still she watched him with those huge eyes. He had loved her since
she was a child and he had used her this way.
He had almost had her in the dirt, with no thought to her comfort.
He kissed her, his mouth tender against her swollen
lips. He tasted her blood and wondered if he caused that as well. “Forgive
me. Forgive me, Prin.”
He walked away, towards the stream, picking up his
shirt as he went, and dipping it into the cool water. He rung it out, went back to her, and washed
her. Then he helped her dress, hooking
her bra, fastening her shirt, pulling her skirt down until it rested just below
her knees. Her ripped panties were
useless and he shoved them into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Let me take you on home, now. My car’s parked a little ways up the road.”
She took his hand in hers as they walked, another
gesture from her childhood. He was
racked with guilt.
“Gabe, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I wanted you to. Truth be told, I wanted more than that. I’ve always wanted you. One of these days you’re going to get tired
of telling me no. I’m beginning to see
little cracks in your armor.”
God help him, but she was right. It was easier when she was three hours away,
when he didn’t have to see her every day, when he didn’t have to hear her
laughter, or watch her grin light up her face. He thought about all the ways he
could touch her. He knew he would hurt
her, at some point he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. She wasn’t for him.
“Prin, that was just…
Look, you need to be with guys your own age.”
She snorted. “Gabe, you make it sound like you’re on
the way to the retirement home any day now.
Ten years is not that big an age difference.”
“It is when I helped raise you.”
“You didn’t help raise me. You were just around when I was growing
up. There is a distinct difference.I
can’t remember you ever taking a switch to my bottom. Now that I think about it some, I’m sure I
wouldn’t mind in the least if you were so inclined now.”
“Don’t tempt me. You don’t need someone like me
pushing up on you…”
She pulled her hand away from him, and put her hands
on her hip. “Gabe, I swear, I’m about to
lose all patience with you. I mean
it. Next time you’re overtop me, you’d
better be prepared to finish what you started or I will. I want you.
Don’t you want me, Gabe?”
Hell yes. Hell
yes, he wanted her. And she goddamn well
knew it. Wanting her was never the issue
between them. “You are a beautiful woman, and I love you. You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She
trusted him. She had always trusted him
and he would never lie to her.
“But baby, you are not for me. Hear me?
You are not for me.”
She backed away from him, shaking her head. “You drive me crazy, Gabe. Really.
All this honor and angst. Enough
all ready. I don’t need a ride home. I’m fine.”
She was embarrassed and pissed off. He knew he was
courting bodily harm, but he said, “Let me take you on home, Prin.”
“I can walk. I
don’t need anything from you.” She turned and walked slow through the woods
back to the road. She had too much pride
to run from him.
Jim Johnson was so tall his head touched the ceiling
like a mere house couldn’t contain him.
He liked to joke that he was the entire offensive line when he played
football in college. Prin could believe
it. Jim Johnson was a man who could not
be moved.
And didn’t that make growing up with him one useless
battle. It wasn’t even a battle. It was all out war. She was so good and vanquished the only way
she could get out from beneath his thumb was hightailing off to college and
then to Charlotte.
She knew he loved her.
He probably loved her too much for her own good, but it was the kind of
love that took no prisoners and tolerated no dissent. He was first
and foremost a marine; surrender was a four letter word to him.
He stood on the porch of the house with his legs
braced and hands on his hip looking like a taller version of the green
giant. Even though he was in his late
sixties, his back was still ramrod straight.
He narrowed his eyes as she approached, studying every little thing
about her. She was his greatest worry
and, sometimes she felt, his greatest disappointment.He stumped down the
steps. He never walked. His size made sure everyone within a good
mile knew he was coming. The sun threw
sparks off his steel gray hair.
He stopped when he was a few feet away from her and
opened his arms. She ran to him and he
enfolded her tight. She wallowed in Old
Spice, pipe smoke, and clean sweat. His
hands roamed over her head, his touch light and hesitant. She knew she’d scared him. She’d scared the shit out of herself.
He set her a little bit away so he could see her
face. “There’s Prin mine.” His brown eyes were laser sharp, hard as
stone, but beneath it all was real worry and so much love she felt it like a
weight around her neck. When she was
growing up she drowned underneath the weight of all that love, like he had a
death grip on her ankle and pulled her under.
She clawed and kicked and bit to get away from him.
Now all that love was a blessing. She was safe.
She could rest. She could try to
heal. Relief hit her so hard she swayed
on her feet and tried to suck back sobs.
“Poppop, I’m so glad to see you.
I’m so glad to be home.”
He wiped at her tears with his big hands. His hands were soft against her cheeks, and
the calluses on his palms lightly scratched her skin. When she was a little girl and he used to
braid her hair and give her baths, she was always amazed that a man so huge was
so tender. “It’s okay, Prin mine. None of that now. You’re home and there’s nothing to cry about
anymore.”
He led her to the steps and settled them so she was
sitting close with her head resting against his shoulder and his arm around her
waist. “You ready to talk about it yet?”
She was surprised he was giving her an option. Demands were more his style. Maybe age was mellowing him out finally. Or maybe she was such a hot mess right now he
was terrified she’d crumble to pieces if he pushed too hard. “Not yet.
I just want to settle some. Be
quiet and rest my soul.”
He laughed at that.
It was one of his favorite sayings for her because she drove him
crazy with her constant activity and chatter when she was growing up. He’d ask God in complete bewilderment, “Why,
Lord, can’t this child rest her soul?”
God apparently never answered because Poppop never stopped asking.
It would be so easy to stay like this with him
forever, let him wrap her up in little girl fantasies and kiss all her cuts and
bruises. He’d let her pretend as long as
she wanted. And that’s why she couldn’t do it.
It would be nothing more than pretend and she’d just get better and
better at faking like nothing was really wrong with her. “I was going to stay through the summer while
I renovated Mama and Daddy’s old house.”
“You sure you want to do that? I was thinking you might want to sale and
start over. They’ve just built some
pretty little condos right outside of town.
Just enough space for you, beautiful grounds, and it even has a pool.”
A pool did sound nice, but she had the lake. It had a stone bottom and shade and the water
was clear enough so she could kind of see her toes. And the ocean was a nice drive away. White sand beaches and teal blue water made a
pool a little redundant. Condos were too
crowded, people living on top of each other.
She learned in Charlotte
she needed tons of elbow room or she suffocated. She didn’t want to look out her window and
see anyone unless they were coming to visit.
Mama and Daddy’s house had enough land so that there
were no neighbors in shouting distance.
Enough land to plant a vegetable garden and plant some flowers and get
the silly assed dog she’d been dreaming of.
No pure breeds because she wasn’t the type and no lap dogs because,
really, what was the point? She wanted a
huge pawed mutt long in loyalty and sense and short in dignity.
She shook her head against Poppop’s shoulder. “I don’t want the condo. I want my own place. I want to make some more good memories in
that house. We made lots of them before Mama
and Daddy died.”
“I’ve kept it up for the most part. Some cosmetic work will probably need to be done
and we can redo the hardwood floors.
Take a look at the kitchen and maybe modernize it a little.”
“I have a little bit in savings, but not enough for
all that, Poppop.”
“Most of the work we can do ourselves. I’ll help you. Have to admit, the idea of you living out
there makes me nervous. I’d prefer you
stay with me or go on ahead and move into the condo. Lots of young folks live in that condo, Prin.” He pulled her hair and teased. “You can start
looking for a husband and make me some grandbabies before I get so senile I
can’t remember their names.”
“You’re not going to get senile. I’m not sure you even age. You still look the same way you did when I
was a little.”
Poppop raised his hand to his head. “You don’t see all this gray hair, girl?”
She laughed. “A
little Just For Men will knock that right out.
Then you can start dating and work on getting me a grandma. I always wanted a grandma.”
Poppop grimaced.
“What do I need a wife for, Prin mine?”
“What do I need a husband for?”
Poppop’s arm squeezed her waist hard, making her
squeal. “Miss independent, huh? I was happily married to your grandmother for
twenty years before she passed. If I found somebody I loved as much as I loved
her, I’d marry in a heartbeat. I want
you to have what we had. I want you to
have a man that’s going to love you unconditionally, in sickness and in
health. I want you to have your own
children.”
Poppop had always been a closet romantic. He listened to Blues late at night. His favorites were the Blind Boys of Alabama
and Betsy Smith. He was also partial to
Frank Sinatra and Lena Horne. She
remembered dancing with him as they made dinner when she was little, her feet
stacked on top of his. His favorite book
was Anna Karinna. She once told him that
it was a romance novel and he was mortally offended. He didn’t forgive her for almost an entire
week. She kissed his cheek. “You find
him for me, and I’ll marry him without argument.”
Fireflies lit up the dusk. Prin used to catch them and keep them in jars
poked with holes at the top and filled with grass when she was little until
Poppop told her it was wrong to cage something so pretty and free. One landed on her arm and she watched as it
made its slow way up to her elbow before jumping off. Annie Rose sat next to her in Poppop’s back
yard, her legs spread out, and her hands on her belly. Her red hair was piled high on her head in
deference to the heat and damps strands stuck to her cheeks and neck. The dusk stillness was alive with the hum of
grasshoppers and the call of owls.
“You know, I never heard this in Charlotte.
Only thing you can hear at night is traffic and the neighbors. Sometimes a police or fire siren.”
“That doesn’t sound all that bad. I miss the noise of New York. Sometimes the quiet here drives me
straight crazy. The thing about nights
here is they’re for lovers. The heat,
the smell of magnolia and roses, the owls… It’s all like some mating call. And, just my luck, I have no mate.”
“Me neither.”
“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you
haven’t exactly improved your prospects by moving back home.”
“Surely, there is someone somewhere in Kingstree that
I can work my womanly wiles on.”
“Gabe still out the picture?”
“Oh, we moaned and groped a little this afternoon.”
“Really? And
you’re just telling me?”
“Yes, well, it’s not something that I want to
broadcast to Poppop. As always, the
moaning and groping was fantastic.
However, Gabe is nothing if not consistent, and he keeps on telling me
no.”
Annie Rose snorted.
“How he can resist your womanly wiles is beyond me.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.”
Annie Rose smacked at a mosquito that landed on her
thigh. The citronella candles were
burning and they were slathered in insect repellant, but mosquitoes were the
price paid for living in the South.
“This has been going on for years without resolution. You’re the star of your very own soap opera.”
“Don’t I know it.
I’m hoping my evil twin sister doesn’t show up, kill me, and take my
place.”
“As interesting as that may be, my point was surely you
can wear this man down.”
“Maybe.
Probably. But I want him to want
me as much as I want him. You know what
My Butter says? She says I should never
love a man more than he loves me.”
“I’m sure she didn’t realize that the man you love is
her son.”
“Huh. How awkward would that be? Taking her advice about how to deal with her
baby boy?”
“Don’t take her advice. Don’t tell her. Continue to have these clandestine moan and
groan sessions with Gabe. Just don’t
forget to tell me all about it.”
“There aren’t any other prospects? What about Wayne?”
“That man got married over three years ago. He has two kids, a dog, and tons of bunny
rabbits procreating like mad in his backyard.”
“How about Richard?
I used to kind of have a crush on him in high school.”
“He’s living with his partner, a truly beautiful man,
down in Savannah. He’s brought him home a couple of times but I
guessed you missed him. Shame.”
“What about…”
Annie Rose glared at her. “I’m not going to play this game with you all
night, Prin. Every single man we went to
high school with has married, moved far, far away, or is gay.”
Prin glared right back. “No need to be bitchy.”
Annie Rose sighed, “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just thinking about my lack of dating
prospects always puts me in a foul mood.”
“You should try online dating.”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it. Thought about it long and hard. I’m not quite there. I keep hoping the man of my dreams is going
to get a flat tire and be forced to stop in Kingstree so I can wow him with my
charms. And I’m not quite ready.”
She and Annie Rose ran away from Kingstree around the
same time. Annie Rose was always more
adventurous, so she hightailed it to New York where she attended the best
culinary school in the nation, and afterwards, worked in the kitchens of five
star restaurants until Jason, her shitty ex, broke her heart and arm. Soon as Prin
got word from the hospital and police, she called Annie Rose and told her to
pack. Enough was enough. And that sonofabitch better hope she didn’t
see a hair on his head because she was bringing Poppop’s gun. To hell with homeland security.
Prin flew up to New
York and dragged Annie Rose home. Annie Rose was still nervous around men even
though she believed in romance and happily ever after more than anyone else Prin
knew. But being in an abusive relationship for years did that to a woman. Prin pushed Annie Rose’s witch red hair
away from her face. “You do have ample charms.”
“I know it well.
And it’s all going to waste. I
have begun the process of rotting at the vine. I’m over ripe.”
Prin laughed.
“I didn’t know that could happen in your twenties.”
“Mid twenties.”
“You hag.”
Poppop hollered from the kitchen, “You ladies need a
beer or some wine?”
Annie Rose hollered right back, “Yes, please,
Poppop. And your ribs smell divine. I swear, my mouth is watering.”
Poppop was famous throughout North Carolina for his ribs, could open a
rib shack if he wanted to, but he liked his job down Kingstree Beer Company, and
liked working with Mr. Aiden, Gabe’s father.
For as long as Prin could remember, Poppop was a man that loved food and
drink and loved to work with his hands.
He tended his yard, grew his flowers and vegetables, and did all the
upkeep on his house and anyone else’s house, too.
Especially if they were pretty widow ladies that
didn’t mind entertaining and cooking for a hungry man. At Kingstree Beer Company he helped create
craft beers and oversaw the production lines.
He also worked on the intricate design labels that were the trademark
of all Kingstree beers.
Poppop
kicked open the screen door. Annie Rose
jumped up to help, and he waved her back down.
“Annie Rose, you stay right where you are. I’m not so old I need help bringing two pretty girls a drink.” He handed them the beers, Kingstree Summer
Wheat, and went to check the grill.
The bottle was icy cold in Prin’s hand. She rubbed it against her hot face before
bringing it to her lips. The beer was
light with a hint of cherry and went down nice and easy. The only beers she
drank were Kingstree, anything else would have been flat out disloyal. Kingstree beers were also the best.
In Charlotte
she got used to drinking beer from a tumbler, especially when she went bar
hopping with her friends. To do anything else was considered redneck
backwards. But there was nothing in the
world like chugging beer straight from the bottle. There wasn’t any need to fancy it up. Sometimes simple was best.
Soon as Poppop lifted the grill, smoke snaked out,
chasing some of the mosquitoes away. It
had been so long that she had down home cooked ribs she’d almost forgot what
they tasted liked. The spicy smell of
the smoke reminded her right quick.
Poppop closed the grill and sat down, waiting for the
ribs to heat through. The secret to good
ribs, according to Poppop, was to slow cook them in the oven until the skin was
falling from the bone, and then put them out on the grill. Annie Rose patted her belly, “I’m so hungry I
could eat a horse.”
Poppop frowned at her.
“I thought I broke you both from using clichés while you all where in
high school. It’s the mark of a lazy
mind.”
Annie Rose laughed.
“Wait a second now, let me think.
I’m so hungry I could wring a pig’s neck, suck the meat, and chew the
gristle.”
Prin’s face scrunched up. “I think you’ve done turned me off eating
meat altogether, Annie Rose.”
Poppop nodded his head. “That’s much better. And good thing for you since the ribs are
pork.”
Poppop reached his hand across the table for Prin’s
hand. “It’s good to have you home, Prin mine.”
She should have come home a long time ago, before it
went all to shit in Charlotte. She should have come home the first night she
didn’t hear crickets. She should have
come home the first time a bartender poured her beer into a glass. She squeezed
his hand, and leaned down to kiss the back of his palms.
She took another pull from the beer, and they sat in
companionable silence, the sounds of the night echoing from the woods
surrounding the backyard. She heard the
car before she saw the headlights. “Poppop, you expecting company?”
“I didn’t tell you?
Aiden and Blanche coming out, bringing Gabe and the boys. They’re dying to see you. Plus, Gabe can eat all these ribs by
himself.”
She panicked, knocked over her beer, and fumbled with
the napkins as she tried to wipe it up.
Poppop stared at her. “What’s wrong, Prin?”
Annie Rose snickered and started humming the theme
music to As the World Turns.
“Nothing, Poppop.
Nothing.”
“You sure, honey?”
“Poppop, I’m fine. Really.”
She listened as the cars came to a stop, and stood up
when she heard the jumble of voices coming around to the back of the house.
