It hadn’t worked. The intent was there, and it did help my mom to hear it clearly and articulately outlined what she was doing to me. She already knew. I’d told her so many times, but somehow being told firmly by two males, who were standing shoulder to shoulder blocking her view of me, the whole experience was a message to her.
She backed off, and big time over the last few years because ironically, the farther I got from her, the more support I received, the easier it was to handle her.
I knew she’d always be a part of my life. I’d always want my mom to be a mom, and I wouldn’t get that from her. I’d get hurt, and we’d go round and round, but sometimes I liked checking on her. Right now, she had a new boyfriend and he called a month earlier for advice. He was steady and strong. Not much seemed to bother him, so in a way, maybe he was perfect for her.
I knew what the realistic result would be, but listening to him, feeling my own happiness, I was letting myself be hopeful that one day my mom would get the happiness she never seemed able to find.
Until then, Cruz was carrying me to our bedroom, still kissing me, and laid me on the bed.
His eyes were heated. “We got a fancy dinner tonight. And a heads-up, but we got people coming to the house.”
“What? When?” I started to sit up. A party?
He laughed, pushing me back down, and coming with me this time. “Oh, no way. You’re mine until then, and we are going to be celebrating our engagement our way.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You know what I mean.”
His very hard-on gave me an indication if I hadn’t. I grinned, reaching down and finding his dick, pushing his pants down until I could wrap my hand completely around him. “You remember our first hook-up?”
His eyes flashed. “69. Hell yes. You…？” But he was groaning because I twisted in the bed, my mouth closing around him. It wasn’t long after before my pants were pulled away and his own mouth found me right back.
I loved this guy.
We were currently on the kitchen table, because we went downstairs for something until Cruz hauled me up, laid me on the table, and was between my legs within seconds. He paused, mid-thrust, and gave me an almost startled look. “You’re not a big wedding girl, are you?”
I laughed, dazed because I’d been right there, but–“What are you talking about?”
“The wedding.” He began moving again, sliding deep and holding, grinding. “I was wondering earlier about if we’d have a big one, and how big, and how many of my teammates you’d be willing to let stand up for me, and it just hit me that you’d probably be good with going to the court place. You would, wouldn’t you?”
My body was feeling like an inferno because he was going at me hard now, worked up about what he was thinking, and my brain couldn’t follow him. “Huh?”
“The wedding. Big or small?”
I groaned, lifting up, grabbing his ass, and I yanked him in, then raised myself up and ground back on him. “I don’t care right now.”
“Oh, right.” He reached down, falling so his face was just above mine, and he was going right with me. His eyes were focused back on me, only me, and they were darkening in just the way where I knew he was making sure I was going to release first.
“Cruz.” I groaned again.
“What?” He bent his head, finding my throat, tasting me there. His other hand lifted to my breast and he held me there, his thumb rubbing over my nipple, going slow, leisurely. Delicious. Tingles wracked through my body.
I lay back down, gasping, and my hands held tight to his biceps now. “Together.”
“Hmmm, nope.” He chuckled into my neck, lifting his head and finding my mouth. His tongue slid in and God, this guy could kiss. “You first, baby. Always you first.” And with that, his hand went to my clit. He pressed, rolled, rubbed. He thrust in a last time, and I exploded.
My back arched off the table as I couldn’t move, just holding on as the waves crashed through me. Once I was done, or almost as I was done, Cruz began moving again. Harder. Faster. Until he reached up, grabbed hold of the table, and he was pounding me.
I held onto his back, and as I began to feel another swirl, a buildup, I had a thought before it happened.
We’re going to break the table.
Creak!
It broke in half, right as a second climax hit me, and right as Cruz growled his own. Right as the table gave out underneath us, he grabbed under me and held me up, lifting and backing away. My arms were shaking, weak, but I managed to move to his shoulders, my legs half wound around him as I looked back.
There, in a heap, with two of the legs broken off, was our table.
Cruz snorted in laughter, slowly setting me down on my feet. “Thinking this is a bad time to tell you we got caterers coming in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” I whipped to him.
But he was still laughing.
I stepped away from him. “Ten minutes? Really?”
He nodded, containing some of his laughter, though some still slipped out. “Fancy dinner is going to be here, and after, we got everyone coming.” He’d said people were coming, but I gaped at him, my legs still a little unsteady.
“Who is everyone?”
He was watching me, gauging my reaction. “Everyone. Labrowski’s bringing Angela, now that they had their little girl. He told me to prepare you that she’s going to want some serious champagne tonight. Taz and Race. Zeke. Your whole Fallen Crest crew is coming. My Grant West teammates. Some of the guys from the Javs.”
“Skylar and Zoe?”
He nodded. “Wade and Darren. Miles.”
I checked the time. I had seven minutes left. I squealed, running for the stairs. “Caterers are your thing?”
“I got ’em. Yeah,” he called after me. “Oh, uh…”
I paused at the top, and I wasn’t going to worry that it was going to be so obvious he’d just pounded me when those caterers got here because he didn’t look in any hurry to change that. He was slowly pulling his shirt on, and his pants weren’t buttoned. He was barefoot.
He grimaced, just slightly. “I might’ve told everyone they could stay here.”
“What?”
Everything went so fast once we moved to Arizona. He had early team meetings. Buying a house. Deciding to buy a house together, because that was important to me. Moving. And then he started training in September. By that time, I’d began my application process for graduate school for family therapy. Call me crazy, but I had a feeling I might have some insight. But all in all, we’d not had time to fully furnish the place, and to unpack everything that we had moved in. Our house wasn’t big. We were both just starting out, though Cruz was able to get more money in the last year from early sponsorship deals. I had some from my father that he’d been waiting until I graduated from college before letting me know about. It wasn’t much, but it was for this purpose of funding a future home or helping to pay off school debts.
“I know, but–” He raked a hand through his hair, right as the doorbell rang. “Oh, shit.” He started for the door.
I yelled, “Button your pants.”
“Right.” Then I heard the door open, and voices as he was greeting the caterers.