Clint
May is beautiful as she talks with my parents over dinner. I can hardly take my eyes off her. Even when Grace comes and asks to sit on her lap, she’s more than willing to stop everything and take my daughter on her knee like a mother.
It’s as if my life has suddenly become whole and I’m an idiot stumbling through the motions. Grace is happy with May. Mom and May are already thicker than thieves, and dad won’t stop congratulating me.
It’s fucking amazing.
And heartbreaking.
Grace looks at me from May’s lap, her face alight with joy. “May said I can have her cake!” May looks up at me, her eyes sparkling as she flashes me an apologetic smile.
I shrug, helpless. I don’t give a fuck about the cake. I care that this has suddenly become real. Someone is going to get hurt. But for now, I’m going to sit back and enjoy this night, enjoy my father’s approval, my mother’s love and joy, Grace’s energy, and those little smiles May keeps sending my way.
As if aware I’m thinking of her, May looks over at me again, an unmistakable warmth in her eyes. And I want to pull her aside and remind her this isn’t real. That she can’t get in too deep. Even though I’ve told my parents Grace doesn’t know about the engagement because we’re protecting her, everything feels too right to be an act. It’s messing with my head.
When we’re finally ready to leave, I hear May talking with my mother. “She’s such a light sleeper. I’ve been playing some music in her room, really low, at night. It seems to help keep her from bolting upright at every little gust of wind,” May says.
“I used to do that with Clint,” Mom says right back in that low voice, “he’d never have slept a wink if I didn’t.”
May smiles and gives Grace a huge hug. “Well,” she says to my daughter, “You be good, now.”
Grace is solemn as she looks up at May. “I will.”
But May grins, her playful face lighting up. “I know, I just had to remind you.” Just like that, Grace is hugging her tight and softly telling her she’ll miss her. Even now, with my dad bumping shoulders with me, I feel a tightness in my chest and an ache behind my eyes.
This ticking time bomb is going to blow up in my face. I shouldn’t have dragged May into this. I fucked up. Badly.
***
The whole drive home has been in silence. May is staring out her window, her pretty throat bared and creamy white in the dying daylight.
“They liked you,” I say.
She nods, but says nothing.
The lack of feedback is killing me. I need to get in her head. I need to know if she hates me. But she keeps her focus on something beyond her window and I seethe silently behind this wall she’s placed between us.
When I finally pull up before the house, she’s quick to escape the truck and head into the house. I follow, needing to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Did she break? Did she tell them? I can’t imagine she would have and it not be trotted out at dinner.
“May,” I say and she turns, her lips parting. And in her eyes, I see tears. “What’s wrong?” I ask; all anger dissipating.
“Your parents are amazing,” she whispers, her eyes tortured.
And I wrap her up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, “we can stop this now.” I’m not going to hurt her, not going to hurt everyone for my selfish need for my father’s approval. I’ve gotten along just fine without it up until now.
But, with her in my arms, I realize I need something else. Taking her chin in my fingers, I kiss her lips. She melts, her tongue instantly seeking mine. There’s a new fire to her, a spice that destroys my will to stop.
With a growl, I begin to move her back through the house. Her hands find the hem of my shirt and she tugs it up. Our lips only part long enough for the shirt to pass before we’re kissing again. Behind her back, I work the zipper I’d helped her with earlier tonight. Then we’d been proper, distant, even.
Now we’re like two totally different people as I force the top of her strapless dress down. Leaving her lips, I press a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat. I’ve never craved anything like I crave her right now, in this moment.
She whimpers as the dress flutters to the floor. It settles into a puddle of cotton at her feet and I’m quick to notice her lack of underwear.
I groan. She was naked under that dress all night…
I press my lips to the space between her beautiful breasts and she gasps. Her hands find my shoulders and she grips like she’ll fall if she doesn’t hold on for dear life.
“Clint,” she whimpers, but I’m busy kissing her pert, pink nipple. Turning her so the bed is behind her, I lower her back, needing to taste more of her. All of her. I need all of her.
Her hips buck up into me and she begins talking. “I’ve needed this for so long, I’ve wanted it...” she moans, her body reacting as my teeth scrape along the full curve of her breast. She’s delicious, a drug that’s taking hold as I taste her, sample her, enjoy her.
She’s mine.