Made in America (19 page)

“Anyway,” she sighs, “he was drunk, and things had been tight. Mom hadn’t worked since I was born, and money was scarce. Even though he’d been a postman for as long as I can remember, Dad was always just an average worker. Never strived to be better, or any of that, so the money he made was stagnant. Hardly ever got a raise, that sort of thing. Basically, we were poor.

“So he comes home, and immediately Mom starts harping on him about the bills, because from what I gather the money he was supposed to use to pay the electric bill he spent on lottery tickets.”

Raven shakes her head. I can only imagine how painful the memory is for her.

“He just hauled off and hit her. Didn’t say a word. Just…hit her. Right in the face. Right in front of me. Mom dropped to the ground like a sack of biscuits, laying beside me with her eyes wide open and this dazed, confused look in her eyes. Like she didn’t understand what just happened, but I did. I saw my father hit my mother, and as they days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I saw it again, and again, and again, until there was nothing left inside her, you know? She used to be so full of life. Funny, loud, but after that, she was just this meek little woman who would jump at the sound of a door closing. It was heartbreaking.”

A tear drips down from her cheek, landing wet on my pants. My eyes sting, blurred with emotion, and I swipe at them as she sniffs.

“Then one day he was gone. He left for work and never came back. I don’t know where he went, I don’t know why. He just…vanished. But the damage had already been done. Mom was never the same. Sure, there was a bit of life in her after that since she wasn’t getting beat down no more on a regular basis, but the mother I knew? My father took her with him when he left.”

“Jesus, Raven,” I manage. It feels like there’s gravel in my throat, but I still want her to know I heard her.

When I try and hug her closer, she shoves away, turning slightly to look me in the eyes. I flinch, noticing the blazing gleam in hers, which is a far cry from the sad, lonely expression I expected to see.

“When you shoved me, Grant—when you put your hands on me—that’s who I saw. My father.”

“Raven…I didn’t mean to do that.”

“That’s what he always said. He didn’t mean to do it, she just made him. When I fell on my ass, that’s who I was in that moment—my mother—and when I looked at you, all I saw was him. It scared the hell out of me. I don’t ever want to feel that way with you, Grant. Not ever.”

I nod, realizing it’s futile to try and justify my actions. I should’ve never lost my temper the way I did. There’s no excuse for it, and after the story Raven just told me, nothing I say can take away from how she feels, because those feelings are hers to own. They don’t belong to me. All I can do is try and be the man she needs, not the man she’s afraid of.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my gaze to my lap. I feel completely ashamed of myself, as I should.

She says nothing. Goes on staring at me for a few beats, either to see if I really mean what I said, or to compose herself enough to walk away.

After a moment passes, Raven takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I look up at her as she musters a smile, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“People are going to say things about me, Grant. My tits, my ass, my tattoos. I’ve heard it all before, trust me. You’re going to have to get used to that and not hulk out every time someone makes some smart remark, otherwise you may as well just sell your company now and become a boxer, because that’s what you’re going to turn in to.”

“I was just trying to protect you,” I shrug.

“I’m a big girl, you don’t need to protect me.”

Her words pierce my heart, because she doesn’t know how wrong she is.

I open my mouth to say something, but she swallows my breath with a kiss planted softly on my lips. My heart races in relief because I thought for sure that was it. Thought she’d get up, walk away, and I’d never see her again.

“C’mon,” she says, lifting her feet from the water. “Let’s go inside.”

“Okay,” I say solemnly.

“Don’t be like that, okay?” she chides. “What’s done is done. Let’s move past it and hope it never happens again.”

I rise to my feet and take her in my arms, holding on for dear life. The life she’s given me. The life that feels new and wonderful, and that I never thought I’d have again.

“It won’t,” I promise.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

She stretches on her tip toes to meet my lips, and after a quick peck she leads me back up the dock toward the house, giving a thumb’s up to Tito and Frankie, who have been standing outside on their deck watching our entire exchange.

- 20 -

Raven

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” I turn on my side and prop my head up on my palm. Grant lays next to me in bed, looking scrumptious in nothing but a pair of silk pajama bottoms, his bare chest on display for me to play with.

He sets down the book he’s reading—some motivational business jargon—and mutes the TV. I can hear the water outside in the creek lapping at the shore, illuminated by nothing but the moon at this late hour.

“I wanted to be what all young boys want to be: an astronaut.”

“Shut up,” I joke, slapping the solid muscle of his pectoral.

“What?” he grins. “You asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I’m telling you.”

“I meant when you were old enough to know what that meant. Being an astronaut is something you want to be when you’re five, what did you want to be when you were fifteen?”

He ponders the question for a moment, and I love looking at him when he’s thinking. His eyes curve up and to the right, and he purses his lips a little in that same direction. Absolutely adorable.

“I wanted to be a chef,” he says matter-of-factly.

“A chef? Really? Well after that dinner you cooked tonight I’m surprised you didn’t.”

He made us a pair of delicious strip steaks, bathed with fresh rosemary, onions, and a red wine sauce. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water for more. I had no idea he could cook, but after listening to him confess his childhood dream it makes sense.

“So how do you go from wanting to be a chef to becoming some financial god?”

He laughs, dismissing my statement that he’s anything but brilliant in the boardroom, but it’s true.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm underneath my palm. His skin is warm and comfortable, smelling like body wash after a shower.

“Come on, you don’t get to where you are on luck alone. How’d you get in to it.”

He shrugs. “I’ve always been good with money, and when my grandfather died he left me some, so I took that and invested it wisely. Then one thing led to another and here we are.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty,” he says, shifting his weight in the bed. His face turns hesitant as he adds, “Can we not talk about this stuff right now?”

I frown, perturbed by his hesitancy. “I’m just trying to get to know you more,” I say. “Sorry if that’s so wrong.” I flip over and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Raven,” he groans. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

Grant lays on his side to face me, his head cradled softly on the pillow. His fingers trail up and down my arm, making me shiver with delight. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s doing that.

“It’s just that my grandfather’s death is a painful subject for me. I don’t like to relive it.”

I say nothing. Instead I think back to when I first met him and I searched for him online, finding nothing of his past. No mention of a grandfather. No…nothing. I haven’t thought about it much since then, figuring eventually Grant would open up to me, but now I don’t know how to feel.

But I do know how to feel about his hands on me, and I shift my eyes downward, looking at the tips of his fingers as they brush delicately across my flesh.

Grant grins, knowing the effect that he has on me.

“Come on,” he kisses my bare shoulder. “Don’t you want to have some fun?”

His tongue glides up toward my earlobe as his hand brushes softly over my stomach. The southern air is humid past the window, but Grant has the central air on to keep us cool. Despite that, I’m wearing nothing but a tank top and my panties, so it’s not hard for him to tell how turned on I am by the way my nipples stiffen beneath the thin fabric of my top.

“Well,” I tease, “you
do
owe me some make-up sex.”

He nods. “I do, and I so want to make-up to you.”

Grant takes the hem of my shirt and lifts it up. My breasts spill out and I close my eyes as his mouth dips lower over my body. His tongue circles around my nipple before he takes it in his mouth, sucking hard on it. My back arches and I moan, feeling his strong hand glide down to my panties. His fingers trail along the waistband before slipping under it, and when he finds my clit I suck in a sharp breath of air, loving the way he knows what to do with it.

“I love your pussy,” he whispers, his hot breath engulfing my breast.

“My pussy loves you,” I smile.

He glides easily up and down my wet cleft, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me squirm before he slides a finger inside me while his tongue flicks delicately over my nipple.

“Fuck,” I shudder the deeper his finger goes.

“I’m going to do that, too,” he grins.

“Promise?” I purr.

Grant nods. “I’m going to fuck you hard from behind so you can feel all of me deep inside you.”

He slides another finger inside my hole and I whimper as my muscles clench tight around him.

“And then I’m going to slap that beautiful ass of yours while I fuck you,” he continues.

He quickens the pace, moving his fingers faster to slosh in and out of my wet cunt. My body is on fire for him and I reach down, eager to feel how hard he is. He rolls his hips forward and I break out in goosebumps as he presses against me—already at full capacity—hard and thick, ready to pummel me.

“Is that what you want?” he growls while I stroke him.

I nod approvingly.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you want.”

I tug on his cock. “I want this.”

“Where do you want it? Tell me.”

“I want it in my pussy.”

“And whose pussy is it?”

“It’s your pussy,” I open my eyes and watch as he gets to his knees.

“And this,” he says, slipping out of his bottoms, “is your cock.”

I gasp as he springs out of the confines of his pajamas. He truly is a specimen, and the way he commands my senses with his filthy mouth increases the ache my body has for him.

“Turn over,” he says.

I strip out of my tank top and do as he asks, swaying my hips back and forth seductively. Grant takes his time removing my panties, kissing sweetly down my ass as he does it.

“So beautiful,” he muses, his lips soft and wet against my skin.

He spreads my cheeks wide open and licks up my cleft, tasting me from behind before diving in and eating me like I was his last meal. I moan and quake, grinding against him as his tongue darts in out and out. The feel of his hands on my ass, his mouth, it works me into a frenzy until I’m begging to be fucked hard.

Then he licks higher, rimming me. I’ve never been much into ass play, but with the way Grant makes me feel I shove off my inhibitions and let him have his way with my body. It feels comfortable giving up that control to him, because I know he’d do the same for me.

“Fuck me,” I plead as he licks around my ass.

He gets to his knees and slaps his hard cock against me before gliding it back and forth up my crack, squeezing my cheeks together around his shaft. Growling through his teeth, he parts my lips with his crown and eases his way inside my pussy. I burrow down into the pillows, keeping my ass high in the air as he enters me. I bite down hard, taking a mouthful of fabric to help alleviate some of the pain I experience from how thick he is.

“So fucking tight,” he groans pleasurably, feeling my sex clench around him as he goes balls deep, holding himself in there for a moment.

I grip the sheets, pushing back against his thighs.

“You want me to fuck you?” he teases.

I nod, whimpering, “Yes.”

“Then get ready, baby, because you’re about to be fucked hard.”

Grant slaps my ass and I cry out at the unexpected pain mixed with the pleasure of his cock inside me. He slaps it again before taking hold of my hips and pounding hard against me. His cock drives home over and over and it doesn’t take long to feel his girth resonating deep in my core. I don’t remember the last time I was fucked this hard—if ever—and hearing him moan and grunt behind me as he watches himself slip in and out causes me to buck that much harder.

“So fucking hot,” he pants, before reaching over to take my hair.

I rise up and rest my weight on my palms, allowing him to tug on it. My neck arches back and I howl like a wolf at the moon, listening to the sound of his flesh slapping against mine. That’s how Grant makes me feel, like a fucking animal when I’m with him, and I lose what little self-control I have left and just let my body take over and enjoy every inch of him.

“Fuck me!” I cry out.

His fingers tangle in my hair and his other hand rests on my shoulder until he brings it up and around my neck, gently squeezing my arteries in a show of dominance while he doesn’t miss a beat with his cock, which continues to pummel me. Coupled with the tugging on my hair, his hand around my neck, and the way his heavy balls slap against my clit with each forceful motion, it doesn’t take long for my core to blossom as my simmering orgasm surges through me in a burst of passionate waves that has me in tears as I soak his cock.

Releasing me, I collapse flat on the bed, his dick slipping out as I lay prone in an exhausted heap. Grant quickly gets on top and slips himself back in. I keep my legs closed shut, and look over my shoulder while he straddles me. His skin glistens with sweat and he catches my eye, winking as his cock glides between my walls.