Page 18 of Return to You

“You’re so wet.” He whispers against her mouth. “I love that you’re so wet for me.”

Ali’s body rocks into his touch, seeking release as he begins singing “Brown Eyed Girl” to her. She grips him tighter but no longer feels his chiseled form beneath her touch. Like Marty McFly in Back to the Future, the more he sings the more he fades away.

She shuts her eyes to block out the sound of his melodic voice and focus on the feeling but the harder she squeezes her lids the faster the sensation is slipping away. Ali isn’t normally a beggar but when it comes to coming she allows herself to make this exception.

“Please,” she half-pleads, half-demands.

The sound of her own voice caused her eyes to flutter open. The first sense that registers in her brain is the bright light that streams in through her partially-opened blinds.

“No,” she slammed her eyes shut and groaned as all of her senses returned at once, crashing into her consciousness.

She’d been dreaming. Kade hadn’t really backed her up against a wall, kissed her senseless, and ran his fingers along her panties taking her to the brink of oblivion.

Ali did her best to will herself back to sleep. It had been a long time since anyone had brought her any real pleasure and she needed her fantasies to sustain her. Her nose itched as the sun warmed her face and she turned so that her back was to it.

Wait.

The sun?!

Ali always got up before sunrise.

“Shit,” she cried as she sprung up to a sitting position and reached for her phone on the nightstand.

It wasn’t there.

As she searched for the device she did a double take when she glanced at her clock and saw the time. It was ten-thirty a.m. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face.

She’d stayed up all night fixing Ricky’s science project and now she’d overslept so it wouldn’t matter at all. She’d missed her alarm and hadn’t woken him up. Her mind raced to remember his schedule. A small sense of relief surfaced when she recalled he didn’t have Truman until after lunch. If she got him up now, she could get him there in time to turn in his project.

She scrambled out of bed, briefly getting caught in the sheets that were twisted around her calves causing her to tumble over the side. With catlike reflexes the soles of her feet hit the hardwood flooring and she stood, not missing a beat before racing across the room. She swung open her door, making her way down the hallway to pound on Ricky and KJ’s doors.

“What the…?” She asked the empty hallway when she saw that both boy’s doors were open and neither of them were asleep in their beds.

Maybe they got up without me waking them, she considered.

Stranger things had happened.

Her heart was still pounding in her head when she heard music playing. The upbeat chords of “Brown Eyed Girl” were drifting up from downstairs.

“Ricky! KJ!” she called out as she hurried down the stairs.

“They’re at school,” Kade shouted from the direction of the laundry room.

Relief spread through her. She hadn’t single-handedly screwed up Ricky’s perfect attendance record. It was short-lived, however, when she rounded the corner and saw the autopsy that Kade was performing on her dryer. The machine was pulled out from the wall and the top of Kade’s head was peeking up from behind it. There were parts and tools laid out on the floor.

She took in the scene and panicked. “What are you doing?!”

“The boys told me it was broken.”

“It was temperamental,” she defended, “but it worked!”

His only response was to sing along to the song that had been featured in her dream. When he did, her lady parts sang right along with him.

No. Down girl. He’d lost the right to cause her to flutter. She was banning herself from having any physical reaction to him.

She stood taller and cleared her throat. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

The moment the question left her mouth she winced. She hated that she sounded like a nagging wife. It was mainly the nagging portion of that title that she took issue with, the wife part sounded great. And that just pissed her off more.

---