Chapter Three
Holy crap, the past month had been amazing, and Ryan couldn’t remember a time he had been happier. If he was one of those caveman types, he’d be beating his chest and giving loud bellows of joy and pride. “Yeah, suckers, she’s mine!” If he were a wolf, he’d mark her in every way possible and leave his scent all over her, erasing all doubt to her, him, or anyone within a fifty-mile radius—hands off, she belongs to me. He rubbed his sore shoulder where Shay had bitten him last night.
She’d bitten him! Talk about marking territory. Maybe he wasn’t meant to do the caveman, wolf marking stuff, but he didn’t care. Shaylee Markle had chosen him. They fit together so well. Not in the yin-yang way, where opposites attract and offset the extreme differences, making a completed puzzle. But more like two slightly different items, great alone, but mixed together…a masterpiece. Chocolate and peanut butter. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Brown sugar and sweet potatoes. Caramel and chocolate. Salt and pretzels. Maybe he was hungry. All his love anecdotes revolved around food. Luckily, Shay would be feeding him again. The woman made a killer lasagna. Another great mixture—noodles, cheese, ground beef, and sauce. Great. He was comparing the woman he loved to ricotta. She might bite him again.
“Right on time.” She flung the door open, smiling. “What’s going on? Are you plotting something again?”
He kissed her and pulled her in for a hug, inhaling the wonderful combination of her floral presence, oregano, and fresh bread. She wore a cute, red polka-dot dress that cinched right below her breasts, accentuating her curves, and her hair was pulled back in a lopsided half-ponytail—the kind she wore when she threw it out of her way at the last second for cooking or taking a shower. She would be gorgeous wearing anything, or nothing at all. The way her emotions so easily showed in her eyes and the special curving of her firm lips… He could read Shay’s expressions so easily. And her heart was glowing so brightly a blind man could see. “Wow, you look amazing.”
“Thanks.” She shut the door behind them. “Lasagna still has another twenty minutes. How about a few minutes of me thanking you properly for all you’ve done for me?” She led him to the couch and gazed up at him from beneath her dark eyelashes, biting her lower lip before giving him a playful, almost secretive, smile. “Have a seat, and I’ll do the rest.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked as she knelt before him and opened his zipper, releasing his already-hard cock.
Her eyes blazed with heat, and she licked her lips. “Hell, yeah, I’m hungry. Now, hold still so I can do naughty things that will make your head spin.”
“I’m not too worried about my head right now.” He groaned when she licked the base of his hard penis and took all of him into her mouth. “God. I don’t even remember my name with you doing that.”
“You’ll remember mine.” She growled, a husky tone to her voice. “Shaylee Markle.” She sucked him hard and popped off again. “The woman who’s going to give you the best blow job of your life. Say it.” She took him deep in her throat and did the most amazing thing with her tongue, before pulling off again. “Say my name.”
“Holy shit, Shay.” He fisted the edge of the couch as she engulfed him with her tight throat, her mouth so hot and wet. “Shaylee, God.” He felt like a teenager again, ready to blow his load in one-minute flat. But that’s what this treasure of a woman did to him.
Her blonde head bobbing up and down, she looked him in the eye while giving him the best mouth fucking of his entire life. The little swirl of her tongue, combined with the tight heat and the way her lips worked him over; he wouldn’t last much longer.
She released him with a loud pop and gave him a heated look that scorched him, her eyes molten with lust and power. Licking him from base to tip, she grinned lasciviously up at him. “I can tell you’re holding off.” She licked him again and swirled her tongue around his head. “Don’t.” Another lick. “I want you to come in my mouth, down my throat. I want to swallow every last drop so you can mark me from the inside as yours. Want to mark me, baby?”
When she sucked all of him so far, her cheeks bulged and her eyes watered, he came. He bellowed and rocked his hips against her as his balls tightened and his whole body went into a frenzy. The gorgeous woman on her knees in front of him took every last drop he exploded into her. Her eyes wide, she mewled as he gripped her hair in his fists and plunged as deep as he could, shouting her name loud enough to let everyone within a mile know—she was his! His body shook and trembled, his cock raging within her tight lips, releasing everything as he accepted the beauty of the moment. And she kept to her word, swallowing everything he gave her.
“God...that was amazing.” His body shaky and rubbery, he pulled Shay up to sit next to him, crooking her into his side. She smelled like lavender and oregano and tomatoes and, most of all, him. His scent permeated her pores as he nuzzled her and brought her in for a sweet kiss.
She traced a hand along his sore shoulder. Okay, it didn’t hurt that badly. It was more like a small battle scar that would dissipate over the next week. He hoped she would reapply it. “Now, we’re both marked as each other’s.” She closed her eyes and nibbled along his neck, her legs intertwined with his.
The front door opened with a crash. “Hey, Mom, sorry I’m early, but I need—” a younger, blonde version of Shay dropped her laundry basket and duffel bag to the floor, her eyes widening. “What’s going on here?”
Shaylee bolted upright and stepped in front of him. Thank God Ryan’s T-shirt covered his flaccid, just sucked into oblivion, cock. Shit. He quickly zipped up and stood.
“I’m going to head to the bathroom.” Lamest thing he had ever said. But given his girlfriend was standing in front of him, trying to protect her daughter from having a peep show, and that the daughter gawked like she had just seen a three-headed alien crawl out of the lasagna, a tactical retreat seemed the best bet. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you doing here, honey? You guys weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.” Shay’s voice followed him as he locked himself into the bathroom.
High-pitched sputtering and rapid talking—faster than his cousin from Wisconsin—exploded from the living room.
After washing his hands, he readjusted himself in his jeans and made sure he was presentable. “Hi, nice to meet you. Your mother just gave me a blow job,” didn’t seem like the best introduction, so he took a moment to think, trying not to be thrown off by the frantic pacing and click, click of her daughter’s high heels. Shaylee’s low reassurances. And her daughter’s dramatic vocalizations getting even faster and more fevered.
“Chase’s on his way. He had to pick up something from a friend’s house first. We were going to surprise you and have dinner. That man is young enough to be your son! God, Mother, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking this is my life! And the only way he could be my son is if I got pregnant before I was fourteen!”
A knock sounded at the front door, followed by confident steps and a male voice.
Ryan stepped out and headed into the living room. He’d be damned if he left Shaylee to fend for herself.
~.~
Her whole world threatening to crumble around her, Shaylee had to get control of the situation, and quickly. Her daughter sputtered and fumed, wearing out the carpet with her pacing. Chase, her son, had calmed down as soon as he realized Courtney’s emergency text might not be an emergency after all, and now leaned against the doorframe, assessing everything.
Courtney was the louder, more brash, outgoing, and harsher of the twins. She didn’t back down from fights and always let you know exactly how she felt—regardless of personal emotions or feelings. She also showed her hurt and anger through aggressively stated opinions, something Shay had been able to accept for most of the past twenty years, thanks to Court’s seven-minute-older brother. Chase was her mirror half. Calm, cool, and collected, he preferred to reason through all possible scenarios before making a decision or passing judgment. Why couldn’t it have been Chase who arrived first? She grimaced at the thought. Her poor son might not have fared any better had he walked in two minutes earlier and seen his mother on her knees. God, what a mess.
Ryan was doing a pretty good job of seeming nonthreatening while simultaneously edging closer to her.
“Okay, everyone, enough!” Shaylee gave a loud whistle, and all talk around her ceased. “Courtney, Chase, this is Ryan, my personal trainer for the race, and—”
“That is taking personal training to a new level,” Courtney countered. “You were practically screwing right there on the couch.”
Ryan’s firm grip clasped Shay’s shoulder as he positioned himself next to her.
“It is not our business.” Chase tried to reason with her again.
“Of course, it’s our business!” Courtney spat, and glared daggers at both Shay and Ryan. “Dating someone out of your appropriate age bracket creates a huge mess that screws with everyone else’s lives!” Pain and sorrow etched her face.
“Guys, can you go into the kitchen, and check on the lasagna? Give us a minute, please.” She felt a gentle tug from Ryan before he nodded solemnly and turned toward the kitchen, followed by Chase.
Sitting on the couch, she patted the cushion next to hers, and Courtney sat, but at the far end. “Talk to me, baby.”
Courtney’s lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “She just turned twenty.”
Of course. The young, vibrant, beautiful girl who had grown up down the street from them. Courtney’s best friend since pre-school. The woman her husband had left her for—six months into their affair. It still stung, but she thought she was getting past it. She had hoped they were all moving forward. The slumped shoulders and quiet sobs told her Courtney wasn’t. Shay pulled her into her chest and let her cry. “I’m sorry he left us, honey. It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it was. I brought her over every day. Taunting him, I guess. That’s how guys see it, right? They need young, hot bodies and lots of sex to keep them happy. And since he wasn’t happy with you…” She pulled away, picking at a piece of worn wood on the coffee table.
“What are you saying, exactly?”
Courtney’s eyes flashed before turning to a dull, listless, almost-dead gaze. “If you had been a better wife, kept your appearance up, your weight down, maybe not worn those hideous mom jeans and loose shirts, maybe some makeup, and done your hair the past three years, maybe he would have stayed.”
She had expected a full-blown verbal assault, but not something so close to home, and her chest ached with her sudden loss of breath. Her eyes stung from holding in the angry tears. But who was she really angry with? Courtney was right. She had gotten a little relaxed in her appearance once the kids went to college. But she and Roger had been drifting apart for years. Sex had become less frequent, their tastes changed, their styles changed. She’d thought she had time to reconnect with him but had been blindsided when he spoke the words I want a divorce as casually as if he were ordering a coffee, followed by the lackadaisical admission he was dating Courtney’s best friend. In love. And he wanted a chance to be happy for once.
Shay never had the chance to break down. Their house and belongings had to be split. Her aunt died, and Chase broke his arm. She had stayed busy the past fourteen months. So busy, she hadn’t had time to think about her heart aching or prepare for the resentment her daughter obviously felt. She’d hidden her head in the sand and waited for everything to boil over.
And when she “woke up,” she decided to run a 135-mile race through Death Valley. Why? To punish herself? She hadn’t been enough for Roger. She really was an old woman. A forty-three-year-old wreck of a woman who didn’t wear enough makeup, her stomach and waist three sizes bigger than two years ago. Her eyes had dark circles and wrinkles—maybe she should have invested some money in those de-wrinkle creams everyone advised for women over thirty-five. Her thighs already sported some pronounced dark veins, and the only thing keeping some of the cottage cheese off her ass and thighs was the hundred plus miles of cardio each week. After this was all over, she would be back to that again. An unappealing, overweight older woman who couldn’t keep a man happy.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Courtney scooted closer and reached for her, and as much as Shay wanted to refuse her, ignore her, and hurt her in return by taking away her love, she accepted the younger woman’s hand.
“That really hurt my feelings, and I don’t like you very much right now.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Courtney’s tears fell faster, and her long, dark eyelashes directed a river of black down her cheek. “I-I shouldn’t have said that stuff.” She sniffled. “I’m angry at him. It’s not your fault. I was lashing out because you’re safe. I’m so sorry.” She buried her head in Shay’s lap and sobbed.
Shay patted her head and tried to comfort the poor girl. It was crazy. She sat here trying to make her daughter feel better for saying some of the worst things she had ever heard—knowing it was all true. Shay had been ignoring it for too long. Yes, Court had been mean and vicious. But it didn’t make it any less true. “It is my fault, baby. I’m sorry I lost your father.”
“No it’s not!” She sat up, hooking her fist into Shay’s shirt. “It’s not your fault. Please forget I said all that. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please.” Her red eyes begged her, but Shay was done listening.
This had been a mistake. At least with a man her age—with his own potential aging issues, graying hair, receding hairline, wrinkles, increasing gut size, the occasional erectile dysfunction—she stood half a chance because she was aging as well. Unless her partner decided to take a younger woman, like Roger did. That was always a possibility. Men looked sexy with gray hair and wrinkles. But even to think a younger man would pass up the opportunity of years of firm asses and boobs, fresh faces, good arousal wetness, and only needing occasional lube—was crazy. Ryan would leave her as soon as he tired of her.
It wouldn’t be such a big deal if she hadn’t fallen in love with him. Her heart so full, so warm every moment they spent together, the thought of being without him stabbed her even more viciously than when Roger had left. She couldn’t take the chance. It would hurt like hell to break things off. But it would be better than if she fell even harder for him. She needed to get out of this relationship. Set the poor man free so he didn’t get saddled with someone he would regret. Heaven forbid, he might stay with her out of duty—he was that kind of guy—but he would resent her. And she would hate herself.
Rip it off, like a Band-Aid. The pain will only last a moment. It’s what she always told her kids when they were growing up.
She stroked Courtney’s cheek, stood to pull her up with her, and led her into the kitchen where Ryan and Chase waited, a layer of tension in their eyes. “I have three weeks until my race.”
“Okay, do you have a new plan for the next two weeks? We can discuss it as soon as you’re feeling all right.” Ryan stood and walked toward her, but she stopped him with her palm raised. Band-Aid, remember? “I can’t do this anymore.” What did this mean? Helping her train for the biggest race in her life? A relationship with the first man she had truly connected with? The questions showed in the widening of his eyes. “All of it. All of this.” She pointed around her, outside then back at herself and him. “I can’t do this. Tell Max thank you for the help. I’ll send you a check for your training sessions, next month.”
“Mom.” Chase’s low voice registered at the same time as Courtney’s high gasp, but all she saw was the pain reflected in the eyes of the man she loved.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been lying to myself for too many years. This is not what I want.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I have a new plan, but it does not include you. I’m sorry.” She felt even worse as she watched the myriad of emotions cross his features—shock, anger, which he tamped down on—then resignation.
“Mom, please, you’re not thinking rationally right now,” Courtney pleaded, and Chase agreed. Ryan’s tormented eyes never left hers.
“I said I’m done. Kids, I need you to go. I want some time to myself.”
Chase and Courtney nodded and trudged toward the front door, but Ryan remained unmoving.
“I said all kids need to leave. Good night.”
His fists clenched against his sides. The pain in his eyes hurt her almost more than she could bear, but it was better to get him out of here before they did something stupid, like both fall in love. “Good night, Shay.” Cheek twitching, he handed all three of them his business cards. “If I can be of any service, my offer still stands. Professional help from the club.” He strode out the door.
She promised Courtney she would feel better by next weekend, gave her some money for the Laundromat at school, and trudged to the kitchen after locking the door behind them.
She threw away the lasagna, mechanically cleaned every pot and pan and countertop, and sagged down at the table. A lone tear escaped, but she rubbed it away before it got any ideas about inviting its friends. This was such a mess. No, it wasn’t. It was better this way. She wouldn’t lose her heart for the second time in two years, and Ryan would move on to something better—like he deserved. Someone his own age. A good woman—a young woman.