Page 136 of Mark my Words

I groaned as I felt her start to come, her muscles tightening as she flooded my hand, my grip on the toy faltering and it falling to the floor. Determined to prolong it, I gripped her hips, driving into her as her fingers flexed against the wall in front of her.

“I can’t,” she panted as her legs began to shake, and I knew she was close again, the desperation as she moaned ricocheting off the wall in front of her.

“Yes, you can,” I grunted as I felt myself riding close to the edge, desperate to do this for her. “Fucking come, right now.”

Despite her stubborn independence, she listened, moaning loudly as she came, barely able to hold herself up as she squirted almost violently, soaking the mirror in front of us and my legs as I let go inside her.

“Now we need to shower again,” she sighed as she made eye contact with me in the mirror, her mood much lighter than before.

“Worth it.” It was all worth it with her. Even braving my crazy family to have them meet the woman I was equally crazy about.

KRISTINE

CLIMAX, MI

Sam’s calming techniques had worked long enough for me to get my suitcase packed and loaded into the car. But over three hours later, as he slowed to turn into the driveway of his parent’s surprisingly large house, my pulse went a little haywire.

“Home sweet home.” His boyish grin made me smile, knowing how much he adored his family. He kept telling me I would too, but I wasn’t sure. His sisters had gone to bat for me to pull off my grand gesture, but I hadn’t really talked to any of them other than to assure them I wouldn’t break their baby brother’s heart.

“You ready for the chaos?” he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt, reaching over to grasp my hand, and tracing his thumb over my knuckles. I’d never been the type to seek physical comfort from another person, but Sam often knew what I needed before I did. “My sisters promised they’d try to keep a leash on Mom. But I’m sure she’ll ask some invasive questions trying to keep you on your toes. I promise she’s not that bad.”

“Really great job calming me down there, Spammy.”

“Six months ago, that would’ve driven me nuts, but I know that’s just how you show you love me, baby.” The grin didn’t leave my face as he kissed my cheek, sneakily releasing the buckle on my seatbelt. “But you’re here. So we might as well get this over with.”

“Again, with the ringing endorsements,” I laughed, blowing out a breath before I reached for the door handle.

“You know you’re stuck with me now. I know where you live.”

Rolling my eyes, I opened the door, waiting until Sam rounded the front of the car, offering me his hand as he helped me stand. While I always wanted to open my own doors—both in life and my career—Sam was there to support me, always.

“What do you think?” he asked as we walked up the front steps, the blue two-story Colonial looming over our heads.

“It’s bigger than I imagined.” I knew real estate was more affordable in the Midwest, but this rivaled the space in my parent’s obnoxiously large multi-million dollar penthouse. Just not as pretentious. By a long shot.

“Yeah, it is,” he snickered, winking at me as he squeezed my hand.

“I’m about to meet your mother. Can’t you behave yourself for two minutes?”

He smiled, shaking his head as he reached for the front door handle. “You want me to answer honestly?”

Before I could chastise him for making jokes while I was freaking out on the inside, the door swung open, and while I’d been expecting his mother to jump out at me and begin pestering me with questions, it was a little boy covered with a powdery substance that looked like flour.

“Uncle Sam is here!” he yelled, leaving the door open as he pulled a super soaker from behind his back and shot it up the staircase behind him.

“Um.” Looking over at Sam with wide eyes, he didn’t seem fazed, just shrugging as he pulled me inside and helped me remove my coat, tossing it on a couch overflowing with them in a sitting room to our left.

“That’s how the twins normally are. They’re a little feral, but they’re cool little dudes.”

So far, this visit was not what I expected, but in the best way possible. This was already proving to be as far removed from my family holidays as you could get.

“Sam, get your ass back here,” a feminine voice yelled from somewhere down a hallway to the right of the stairs. “Your dad is trying to ruin the turkey. Come get this electric carving knife before he cuts off his finger again.”

Again? I mouthed as Sam chuckled, towing me toward the origin of the noise, thundering footsteps and squealing sounding from up the staircase as we passed.

As Sam pushed open the door at the end of the hallway, the aromas of a home-cooked meal invaded my senses, and my stomach growled as I followed behind him. It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, a mouth-watering spread of classic Thanksgiving foods covering the entire surface of the kitchen island.

“Sam,” his mother cooed as she turned, spotting her son. She gave him a big hug, oven mitt cladden hands cupping his cheeks as she released him. “I’m so glad the weather cooperated so you could get here. I’d hate for you to miss another family holiday now that you’re closer to home.”

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