Kim

I hiss at Dee, who hisses at Bay, who doesn’t so much as move a facial muscle while she watches me attempt to pick the lock on Jimbo’s trailer door, her critical eyes rolling because I insisted, and truth told, I suck at picking locks.

I wanted to though because if anyone’s coming after anyone with a shotgun for our little B ‘n E endeavor, I’d rather it be me. That way they stand a chance of coming out of it alive whereas with Bay they’d just die and with Dee, well ever since she got married she’s sunshine and roses.

Which isn’t natural and tells me that she’s bottling up her nuts. Bottled nuts is not something that will end well when it gets too full. She’d probably beat them to death with a skillet.

Not that I object mind you, I’d really like to see how that would play out, purely for intellectual purposes, of course. Somehow I doubt telling my mama that Dee killed her brother with a skillet would go over well.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Bay murmurs while I sweat and curse silently.

Mother of God, how does that creepy bitch do this so easily!

I persevere though, following Bay’s monotone instructions and ten minutes later I hear the click of a lock, and I’m smiling as I crack the door and peek inside.

My first whiff of the trailer has me gagging, and I hear Dee gasp, and turn just in time to see her sprint and fall to her knees to hurl her guts out.

“Jesus.”

I nod at Bay, agreeing that it smells like a dead bag of ass in here and cover my nose while she angles a flashlight into the interior. We’re here as a favor to mama, playing a prank on Jimbo since mama is going crazy with him there.

Luanne was supposed to be out of the hospital two days ago, but mama says she thinks Luanne likes it so much there that she’s putting on a little, and the doctor extended her stay to run more tests.

That means that Jimbo’s few days have turned into a week and mama is just about ready to toss him out on the highway and turn him into roadkill like the stuff that felled poor Luanne.

Honestly, I’m starting to feel like Luanne isn’t putting on being this sick if this is what that deer smells like after refrigeration.

“Honey, are you okay to be in here?” I ask when Dee walks back in and stops at my side, her face so green it’s glowing in the dark.

“I’m not missing this!” she hisses, gagging before she sucks it up with effort and turns to smile at us, wickedly.

We’re here on a mission and we Brady girls take missions seriously. Plus, well mama has promised us all a favor, a Brady favor if we pull through on this and I am so collecting.

I’d run over glass, barefoot and then traverse a salt mountain to obtain a Brady favor from the great queen Rue herself so despite missing out on seeing Sully, here I am.

I think he understood my joy when I called him this afternoon screaming and dancing on the spot while Dee whooped and Bay grunted her pleasure.

“Okay, sheesh, sorry. You take their room and I’ll get the living room. Just stay away from Skeet’s old room and we should all be fine. Bay, you got the bathroom,” I drawl, grinning when she shudders, no expression, but I swear even her cheeks shudder.

“You’ll pay for this.”

Yeah, I know, but honestly, I have my phone camera on and rolling, and no fucking way am I missing the chance to see Bayou’s face when she gets a load of where Jimbo takes a dump.

If that can’t crack that nut then nothing, not even a sledgehammer will.

She hisses and stomps off while Dee giggles and heads to the bedroom, her idea of stealthy tiptoeing being to kick the door open and yell a curse at the top of her lungs.

“Oh my God, I think this is where the smells coming from. Did you say Luanne shit the bed?”

I stifle a laugh at her look of disgust and the retching sounds and stalk after Bay, my finger swiping over the record function. Her muffled shriek is music to my ears as it the expression on her face when she runs out of the bathroom and right by me for the door.

Dee follows soon after and I laugh, hard, shaking my head at how weak their stomachs are. Come on! You think I didn’t know what happened here before poor Luanne had to go to the hospital?

Puhlease. Jimbo told mama exactly what happened that night and even tried to get her to come clean the place up before Luanne gets home. Frankly, I think mama’s refusal and the kick to his balls was answer enough and one of the reasons Luanne extended her hospital stay.

Is it poor form to tell you that while planting dead deer pictures on every conceivable surface and wall, the real reason I took this gig is that I get to take a video of Dee and Bay’s reactions?

Weeeell, I mean it was an opportunity that just fell into my lap when mama first suggested this prank and what can I say, this will teach Dee and Bay to keep their noses out of my relationship!

I’m still laughing after thirty minutes of stomach-wrenching stink where I pasted two hundred pictures of a dead deer all over the trailer with the words “roadkill kills” painted in fake blood on the wall, but I walk out smiling and find Dee and Bay leaning against the hood of my car, still fuming.

“You knew it looked that bad?”

“Now, Dee, why in heavens name would I have you and Bay come all the way out here to help me if I knew the extent of the shit-bomb that exploded in there?” I ask innocently.

“Jesus, Kim, I have never seen anything that bad! What did Luanne eat, the dead body of a roadkilled deer that ate the dead body of another roadkilled deer?” Dee whines, her beleaguered tone making me sputter as I get into the car and order Bay to the passenger seat.

I don’t give a shit if Dee gets car sick in the back. I wouldn’t let Bay sit behind me for all the money in the world. That bitch is crazy, and after I laughed at her, I can so see her garroting me from my backseat.

“So that’s it? Just deer pictures and some fake blood?” Bay mumbles, sounding really disappointed.

She would probably have left something morbidly obscene in the trailer, like an actual dead body just to enjoy the trauma they’d suffer. Me, I am so into the subtle approach, I think snorting, because Luanne really will shit her pants when she sees all that fake blood and gets a load of the load Jimbo didn’t bother to clean.

Crap! I forgot to take photos for my Christmas cards.

Slamming on the brakes I make a U-turn, slapping at Dee’s hands when she starts screaming and tries to wrestle the wheel from me.

“No! Please God no. please don’t make me go back there,” she wails.

Bay snorts in that way that suggests she actually knows how to laugh and I feel my lips curl as I speed up and brake hard outside the trailer, grabbing my keys just in case Morticia and Dexter decide to leave me behind.

The place stinks just as much as it did when we left, so I hurry through taking a few good snaps and then I’m back in the car, really satisfied with the night’s events.

“Please do not send me one. I will have nightmares for months; I don’t need your Christmas cards to remind me,” Bay grumbles, her voice almost hitting on an actual tone.

I pout, deciding to make hers extra special and photoshop a picture of Luanne and Jimbo on the front, just something special to let her know I love her.

“Oh, Bay, honestly, doesn’t hell smell worse when you visit there every night?” I quip, giggling when she grunts.

“No worse than the seventy-year-old prostitute you eat out every Saturday night.”

“Oooooh, that was a good one! Can I use it for a t-shirt? I bet I could make Sully wear one if I give him head,” I say, mulling over the best color and settling on bright pink because I’m just a giver that way.

That will teach the ass to wake me up at two in the morning for sex–wait, no that was good. What else can I use as a reason to make him wear it? Hmm, questions, questions.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” Dee scoffs, throwing her hands in the air when I shrug and giggle at the thought of Sully’s big muscles encased in a pink shirt.

I would so make him wear it to his restaurant on senior citizens’ lunch day. It would be priceless. Aaah, it’s the little things that make life worth living.

We’ve been together for about a week, give or take a few hours and so far, so good. We’ve had sex, a lot of sex. We’ve talked about some deep things. Some deep things. Not a lot because that’s my goddamn business and the only way I’ll tell him that I actually have a heart is if we’re dying together.

But yeah, I think…love.

I think what I feel for him might actually be real, honest love. The man is a slob in the bedroom, he leaves shaving gunk on the rim of the sink, he does not lift the toilet seat, just ask the ass full of urine I got three nights ago when I went to the toilet in the dark.

It pissed me off so much Sully got a face full of my soaked ass. I bet he never forgets to lift and piss again!

But so far so good.

I tolerate his grossness, the clothes he drops and leaves on the floor for his housekeeper to pick up, and I even hardly mind the fact that he likes CSI New York better than Miami.

Okay, now I know it must be love, I think, smiling as I turn into Dee’s driveway to see Ky sitting on the porch and waiting for her. The fool squeals, like a pig, hops out before I can even come to a dead stop and falls on his lips like she’s trying to eat them off.

I honk the horn and back up to take Bay home, and she gives me a look of death before turning on the radio. We don’t speak all the way to her place, and she gets out without a word, turning back to lean in and stop my heart with a smile.

Of purest delight.

“Dee puked on your backseat. Enjoy bitch.”

I’m still screaming and trying to keep myself from jumping out of a moving car as I drive home, the smell hitting belatedly but with a force that has my eyes watering.

Christ, what the fuck do the people in my family eat!

 

*****

 

Sully

I roll over just as the alarm threatens to go off and slap the off button, my body feeling awesomely sore when I stretch. Kim is sprawled out beside me, her mouth hanging open as soft snores come from her adorable little mouth.

I grin, taking a few minutes to look her over, just liking the way she looks in my bed and knowing that now that she’s here no way, no how am I letting her leave.

She already spends most nights here with me, only leaving my place at seven after waking up and making me breakfast. Have I mentioned my woman can cook?

Well, she can. She doesn’t just slap eggs and bacon together and toss it at me like I’d have expected. She actually makes gourmet eggs with cheese and herbs and whatever the hell it is she bought when she saw my cupboards and snarled in disgust.

Kim loves cooking, so much I asked her why she buys wedding dresses for a living and she told me, very nicely, at least as nicely as Kim’s capable of, that she would rather have her vagina waxed by a blind sadist who uses rubbing alcohol as a calming balm than make food and let her animal family know that she can out cook them all.

Apparently, mama Brady would start foaming at the mouth, and her cousins would show up at my place demanding to be fed.

I wouldn’t mind much but Dee showed me pictures of the shit storm in Luanne and Jimbo’s trailer, and I don’t think my toilet could stand the brutality of what comes out of those people.

Besides, I kind of like that she only cooks for me. And I am really afraid too. She told me she’d drug me, plant me in the ground with only my head sticking out, and release a nest of fire ants on my face.

I believe her.

Grinning again because her ruthless, serious, unthinkable mind would truly not balk at doing such things and I love it, I turn back over and shimmy down the bed, taking the sheet with me.

Kim’s a true redhead with pale creamy skin and the most amazing hair I have ever seen. It’s not red like Jack’s, but the coppery tone in the highlights that run through her tresses is a stark counterpoint to her paleness.

She has a slamming body that makes me want to fall to my knees and just worship. Her legs are miles long and toned thanks to hours in the gym, her ass is a bubble that I can grab onto while we make love and her breasts are just the perfect size for me to play with.

I’d go on and on about those parts of her, but the truth is I am a pig. There’s only one part that truly holds my interest when my dick is this hard, and right now I am moving down the bed and spreading her thighs to get there.

Her folds are a pale peach, completely devoid of hair and when I slowly pull them open with my thumbs, I lick my lips and stare at the pink slit encased there.

I run my nose through the soft pink flesh and take in her scent as I breathe and try to calm myself. Most mornings I start off slow and try to take my time, but once she wakes up and starts moaning and thrashing around, I can never keep myself in check. I always lose control and things go fast.

Not that I don’t have stamina but damn, the woman knows how to make me lose it and she loves it, too.

This morning I want it to go slow, and I want to suck and lick her and enjoy making her come gently before I get to the main meal and devour her.

She mewls when I swipe my tongue out using the tip to wet her creases and make her slick. Her taste hits my tongue, the sweet tang of our spent passion making my arousal spike because I love knowing that she smells like me, that part of me is in her and on her.

She moves, shifting in her sleep and I smile. I tongue her gently, slowly, using her stillness to explore to my heart’s content and her body starts heating up.

Kim is still asleep, but her body is awake, preparing her. I taste it when I stop swiping at her hard bud and lick down to her entrance, the juices sliding from her making me moan and close my eyes to stop from getting rough.

By now I’d have her legs against the mattress, and my mouth would be ravaging her to bring her to a fast, hard climax. Right now, I want more, so I control it and push my tongue inside, feeling her swollen walls close around my tongue and soften.

It’s not long before she’s writhing as she wakes, and I grin against her when she moans and grabs my hair, pulling none too gently.

“Oh yeah baby, just there,” she whispers hoarsely, putting my mouth back on her clit where I suck without pressure, and she screams in frustration.

“Sully!”

I don’t respond and keep it up, building her slowly because I want this orgasm to rock her until she’s screaming and begging for me to stop. I want her oversensitive and crying with the pleasure.

“Oh, yes. More. Aaaah,” she growls, pulling at my hair when I suddenly clamp my teeth around her bud and suck hard.

She comes, screaming and crying out, and it gets louder when I rear up and shove home, going as deep as I can, my own groan joining hers when I go balls deep, and she flutters at my shaft.

We don’t speak, the only sounds to be heard are moans, my growls, and the slap of my hips against hers as I chase pleasure. Kim isn’t passive though.

Her heels slam into my ass as she tightens, bowing up and shoving my mouth against her breasts.

“Suck. Yes! God, yes.”

I suck hard, knowing she loves the abrasion of my teeth while I gently flick her nipples. I’m not gentle as I push into her but she doesn’t mind, and honestly, right now I am so turned on it almost hurts when Kim goes stiff and starts clenching, her orgasm drawing my own out with a harsh shout that echoes around us.

I come hard, going in all the way and fill her up, my hot seed spilling out as more of it streams out of me.

“Yeah, babe, you feel…” I gasp, almost passing out as the last shudder pulls at my balls before I collapse, falling with my face buried in her neck.

The next little while is silent, just me and Kim breathing while she strokes her fingers through my hair and plays her lips over my shoulder.

“Sully?”

I grunt, rolling off and to my side to pull her into my side, the lethargy that comes over me after the sexual satiation making my eyes droop as sleep tries to claim me.

“Yeah?”

“Can we go visit mama and daddy tomorrow?”

I still, not tensing, just completely flabbergasted that she’d ask me this so soon when just days ago she was warning me that I shouldn’t expect anything commitment like this soon because my ass is on trial and she’s not cutting me slack.

I love it when she flirts with me like that.

“Uuuh, if you want?” I say, the statement sounding like a question because I am not sure what is happening right now, and I don’t want to get my hopes up too much.

She snorts, rolls onto her side and cups my face, stroking the stubble on my cheek. She’s silent and contemplative, as she always is in the morning when she wakes me up at four for sex, rolls over and goes back to sleep.

This morning is different though and I don’t know why. I’m curious, but not curious enough to make a sound in case I spook her.

“My dad wants you over for lunch, and mama promised to be on her best behavior, well for mama,” she snorts, smiling indulgently. “So, is that okay?”

Is that okay? Holy fucking shit! The woman tells me on a daily basis that she’s just test driving me and if I want her to lease me at the very least I need to impress.

Fuck, I stopped forgetting to lift the toilet seat because I don’t want her to cut and run–fine, it’s also because she woke me up two weeks back with her ass in my face, something funky smearing on my cheeks and nose and her evil shrieks of “how you like your piss on your skin asshole?”

Or something like that. I’m sure there were at least six F-bombs in there, but I’m not quoting her. You get the idea.

This whole meet the parents thing…out of the blue.

I guess you could say I have earned it. Kim has met mama more than once, I’ve known the Brady’s since childhood, but never, ever did I think that Kim would look at me this early on in our relationship and actually want to do something this serious.

Hell, I was just happy a few days ago when she dropped a spare toothbrush on the sink, threatened to scalp me if I ever use it, and put on one of my t-shirts to lay around in while I finished off some work in bed.

This is…

“If you’re okay with it, baby. Look, I know you want to take things slow, and I get it, part of me even likes that you want to build something instead of leaping off a cliff with me. It makes me hopeful that we’ll make it. If you’re sure–”

“Oh, Sully, stop yanking on my tampon and get off the rag, man. I do want you to meet mama and daddy, all official-like,” she says slowly, making my lips twitch because she’s got this strange look in her eye and I know that look.

Guilt.

It’s not easy to spot since Kim usually never feels guilty about anything, not even yesterday when she snuck into the old age home in a mask and carrying a rubber machete.

Don’t ask. I don’t know why either, but her mood’s been excellent ever since she walked out there to the sound of old people screaming like crazy.

That’s my Kimmy.

“Okay, babe,” I say, smiling when she shudders and mutters a curse.

Looks like I have a shot.