Broken Home Pt. 03

The quiet of the Labine home startled me into a wakefulness like I had just drank a pot of coffee. I knew that home could be quiet -- I'd stayed there so often I could navigate my way to the bathroom and kitchen in complete darkness -- but this was new and different. Weighted, somehow. Anticipatory.

Waking up under Brandon's blankets was unusual, but not so alien as that silence. My own bedding was fine, but Brandon's sheets and blankets were ungodly comfortable, cool beneath, warm above. I felt as rested as I ever had, despite a night of wandering dreams. I breathed deep the familiar clean and crisp smell of Deana's preferred laundry soap, and I felt... okay.

Was that wrong? I had no idea. But I did. For the first time in years, I felt like I finally had a foothold again.

It was too early yet for the morning light to sneak in, but I was awake and moving anyways. I turned on the light and took a few minutes to look over Brandon's things. He wasn't a poster guy, but his walls were lined in memories of his life, stories I knew as intimately as my own. The Red Sox pennant was from a playoff game when we were teenagers. The black-and-white picture of him in Dollywood was the last vacation he took with his mom, dad, and sister, back when he was twelve. The dog tag with "SNICKERS" on it belonged to his terrier, which passed when he was fourteen.

The lipstick-stained napkin was a pretty funny story. He used to obsess over a waitress, and we would go there at least once every couple weeks just so he could see her. Even when he was dating someone, he'd go. His crush was obvious. One year, we went there for his birthday, and Hannah got her aside for a minute or two. I think money was involved, but when she came back, she had on a fresh coat of lipstick, and first kissed Brandon's cheek, and then a clean napkin for him to take home, along with her signature. Daphne. A whole week we had to endure him saying he was in love.

Good memories.

After a while, I decided I wanted a workout. After all the good food I'd been eating lately -- let's face it, anything was better than what I'd been living on the last six months -- my body wanted even more self-love. I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, and headed out into the darkened house to the living room.

Deana kept some workout equipment in a closet off the living room. Kettlebells would work perfect for what I had in mind, nothing too strenuous, just a basic workout. I was doing some standing crunches when I heard soft creaks. Deana, coming downstairs.

She looked good, even first thing in the morning. It was the sleepy look in her eyes, the one that used to make me get up in the morning to have breakfast with her before the rest of the household woke, that I always loved. But the way she was dressed made my heart hammer faster than my workout, in clinging pajama bottoms and a tight spaghetti strapped tank.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked me.

"No. I was going to ask you the same thing. I didn't know you were up," I said.

Her eyes drifted to my abs as I did another slow crunch, then back up to my face. "I was responding to some work emails. I won't be back for another few days, but... I needed something to do. Mind some company?"

"I'd love it."

We worked out together for a half hour, our eyes never leaving each other despite Deana's desire that I be solely with Hannah. Several times one of her nipples would bounce free of her top, and she gave a soft "oops" each time until I could take no more. I dropped my kettlebell and went to her to pry hers from her fingers. When I dropped that one too and wrapped her in my arms, she nestled close to my chest and breathed, "We need a shower."

"Mm."

"Or better yet, a bath."

I loved that idea, and let her guide me upstairs, her hand on mine. My other hand roamed her magnificent ass until we made it into the bathroom. She worked the knobs for the tub's water while I brushed my teeth, watching her in the mirror. She saw me and smiled shyly.

"I've wanted you for a while," she said, coming to me and wrapping her arms around me from behind. "The day I really knew, you were eighteen, at one of your track meets. Don't get me wrong, you were always a handsome boy, but I never thought of you really like that. Elena Ward and I were sitting together and she said something like, 'You're lucky to have Nick drooling all over you. He's yummy.'" She undid the knot on my sweatpants and slid them down as I watched her eyes in the mirror, my toothbrush still in hand but forgotten about. "I was bad, because I looked and I really saw you for the first time. Your ass in your shorts. How sleek you were. How tall."

She reached for a bottle of lotion and squirted some into her hand. I turned around. Instead of stroking me, she spread the lotion between her breasts and tugged the top up and over her head. I gaped as Deana knelt in front of me, her breasts gleaming with the lotion.

As she took me between her big tits and squeezed, she said softly, "When you would stay over, I'd be upstairs, playing with one of my toys, thinking about you coming up there in the dark and taking me."

"Fuck," I moaned, thrusting my cock through her tits as she squeezed them tight around me.

"I never thought we could. It was always so taboo. But I just don't care anymore. I want you." She rocked up and down, her eyes holding mine, her expression dark and wanting. "And until Hannah decides you're hers, I want to do anything and everything with you, Nick." She kissed my glistening tip as it neared her chin. "Anything."

"I've wanted you forever," I said.

"I know, baby."

"No," I said, and pulled back from her. She stared up at me as I reached down to take her arm. She rose up, and I pulled her in tight, my hands roaming her ass in her pajama bottoms. "You don't. If you did, you wouldn't tell me things like you want me to do anything to you. Because I will want to." She gasped as I spun with her. She went with it, and when I twisted her around so she was facing the mirror, she watched me with fire equaling mine in her eyes. I yanked down her pajama bottoms and stared at her tremendous ass. It was the first time I really had a great look at it. "I'm going to want every inch of you, Deana."

With that, I sheathed myself inside her pussy in one hard thrust, shoving her forward. She dropped her hands to the bathroom vanity and stared, openmouthed, as I gripped her waist and pounded into her.

"I'm going to want this pussy."

"M-my p..." She seemed incapable of saying the word.

"Oh, I've got a dirty mouth," I said, and ran a hand down around one of her full, luscious ass cheeks.

Blushing furiously, she said, "Take it. Take my..."

"Say it," I said, shoving deep in her again and again, rocking her back and forth, her breasts bobbing with it.

"My pussy..." The word was a whimper coming out of her mouth. "My c-cunt..."

Now that floored me. I had a feeling she was testing the limits, her own or mine I wasn't sure, but I growled, "Yes. Your cunt. I want this cunt wrapped around my cock every chance I get." I think she was just as startled at the word coming out of my mouth as I was at hers. This was uncharted territory for both of us, and I loved it.

Oh... oh fuck, Nick... this is wrong, this is so wrong." But that sure as hell didn't stop her from rocking back at me, her ass and my hips slapping together.

"Tell me you believe that and I'll stop."

"Don't stop, don't you dare," she said.

I decided to be a little daring again. In for a penny, I guessed. "You like this cock in your pussy?"

Christ, I wanted to laugh at myself, at the B-tier porno quality words spilling out of my mouth, but she arched her back and slammed back against me, her eyes crazed. "I l-love this cock in me, in my pussy, oh, oh fuck, Nick, so... so young but... oh my fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!"

She strained upward as she came, her mouth falling open, her eyes fluttering. I grabbed her around the waist and shamelessly grabbed one of her breasts with my other hand as I plunged into her. I was lost to her, to the sight of her coming in my arms, to the faint pleasant smell of sweat from us both, to the mom of my dreams writhing against me as I buried my cock in her warm wetness.

It took every ounce of my willpower to pull out of her in time. She spun around and dropped, staring up at me as she gripped my cock and jacked it against her breasts. The sight was too much, and I painted her with a flood of my come.

"Look what you gave me, look at all this come," she cooed. Staring up at me as she ran her fingers through it. "Mm. Think I should play with it or try a taste?"

My brain short-circuited and all I could say was an eloquent, "Fagh?"

Deana giggled. "Both then? All right. Dirty boy." She ran a finger through a glob of it and brought it to her lips. She made a show of flicking her tongue against her finger, then swallowing the whole finger down, sucking it back and forth like it was my cock. I moaned, and she swirled the other globs against her breasts and cupped them for me.

"You are fucking incredible," I said, breathless.

She grinned, then gasped, "Oh shit, the water."

While she stood up, I snapped for the tub. It wasn't quite overflowing but it was pretty close. She laughed while I turned it off and tested it with my foot. Nice and hot, but not so hot it would boil us alive. Once we drained it a little bit, Deana waited for me to slide in first. I sat down and she joined me, giving me a terrific view of her ass before she settled down and nested back against me.

"I could get used to this," I said as I roped my arms around her.

"Me too," she said, leaning back and reaching for a loofah and a bath bomb. Soon the bath was filled with a delicate scent of vanilla. Once she soaped the loofah, I took it from her and ran it lazily across her skin.

The water relaxed us both, and quickly. It was the perfect comedown from the crazy sex. As I thought about her bucking back against me, I snickered. She twisted and smiled quizzically. "What?"

"Me. 'I'm going to want this pussy.' Jesus. I sounded like a bad actor."

She laughed softly and wiggled her ass back against my groin. "I loved it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Talk dirty to me all you want when we're in bed together. But be a gentleman to me everywhere else."

"Always," I said, and kissed the side of her neck. "What can I do to repay you for all of this, Deana?"

"You don't owe me a thing. I know you'll work hard and get back on your feet soon."

"There has to be something."

Rising up just far enough to push back against me, she said, "Well... there's that." I chuckled. "And pick up after yourself."

"Of course."

"And help with the lawn."

"Hopefully I'll be out of your hair by the time it warms up."

"I want you to stay. As long as you want me... this... please. Stay."

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do." She drew a deep breath and let it out. "There might be something else I ask you for. But I don't want to talk about it yet. It's something I need to think about."

"Whatever you need."

She quieted, and relaxed back against me. Much as I might like a round two, that water was so warm and relaxing I couldn't help closing my eyes as I held Deana close to me. Her breathing evened out too, and in the early morning hours, as the light slowly began to fill the world, we dozed together, safe, comfortable, at peace for a few minutes.

Deana was the one to break the quiet. She reached out with her foot and drained the tub. I grumbled, still half-asleep, and she chuckled throatily as she started back up the hot water. She twisted around on her hands and knees and gripped my cock as she filled my world with her lips and tongue and soft breathy words. She pushed my legs together and positioned me so I was lower in the tub, looking up at her. Her hands held me upright as she settled her knees on either side of me and dropped down.

She used me fast and hard, her eyes holding mine captive as she ground her hips down on me and bounced. The water rose up to my hips before I had enough sense to shut it off again, and I took over, gripping her ass and thrusting up at her while she twisted her head and cried out.

I felt a change, a chill in the air, something I should have paid attention to but didn't. I was too enraptured with Deana, with her curvy ass in my hands, the warmth of her cunt, the brush of her breasts against my chest. She came, and neither of us noticed the lizard-like eyes watching us from the open crack of the door.

* * *

I had a job interview that day at a burger place near where I used to live, but that was now a city away and wasn't going to work out. Still, I wanted to go talk to the manager myself, to show that I really had meant to come in for the interview. Deana drove me there and walked in with me. We talked about the vagaries of my situation and the manager made a call to another out in that direction to see if they had any openings. "My loss," she said, sighing theatrically. "You're pretty cute."

"You just made my day," I said.

That new interview was going to have to wait a couple days. In the meantime we made another stop, this time to pick up a transit pass. I made a mental promise to myself that someday, when I was on my feet again, I'd find a way to make all this up to Deana.

We headed back to her house, where Hannah was sacked out in the living room with a small plate of the meats and cheeses from the coffee hour the day before. She joined us at the kitchen table, where the two of them joined forces and helped me create a resume that made me sound like a wizard at stocking shelves and manning a register.

I stared at the printed copy when they were done. "You two are amazing. Seriously."

"I just wish you'd come to us sooner, dickhead," Hannah said. "What's the matter with you, starving yourself and nearly going homeless when you've got two gorgeous girls waiting to swoop in on you?"

I laughed, got up, and kissed her cheek for that.

"I want you to feel at home here," Deana told me. "You know how I like to keep my house and I know you're a good man. So I want you to feel free to help yourself to whatever's in the fridge or do whatever you need to."

"Thanks, Deana," I said, and came to peck her cheek too. "What do you two have going on tonight?"

They gave each other sour looks, and Deana said, "Dinner with Gordon and Rachel before they drive back."

"That reminds me," I said. "Yesterday at the funeral, she said she was sorry to me about the way he was acting."

"I wonder if she's smartening up too," Deana said. "God, I'd love to get her aside and tell her some stories."

"That dress though," Hannah said. "That pissed me off so much."

"It might not have been that simple," Deana said. "Maybe I'm trying to apologize for her, I don't know. But I'd bet a lot of money Gordon somehow talked her into that."

"That does sound like him. Are you coming with us?" Hannah asked me. "Dad's an asshole, but he'll want to pay and show off, so I guarantee you it'll be great food."

"If me being there is going to cause trouble, I don't want to stir the pot," I said.

"That's exactly why I want you there," Hannah said.

"Hannah," Deana said, though the effect was spoiled by the faint uptick of the corners of her mouth. "Join us. Please."

Our eyes held long enough for the air to crackle between us, and I finally caught myself. "Okay. Sure. Thanks."

Hannah watched us both, but said nothing.

* * *

It's amazing how many things can go wrong for a person all at once. I should know. I've dealt with a lot of shit piling on, but strangely enough, that night, it wasn't going to happen to me for a change.

Gordon Sellars did, in fact, want to show off for his ex-wife and daughter. He booked a table at a high-end restaurant in the outskirts of Evanile, the sort of place where the prices are so high they don't bother listing them on the menu, because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it. Gordon, leading the charge in a brown suit, gave me a pointed look. I was dressed in much the same outfit as I wore to Brandon's funeral. He said to the hostess, "He doesn't own a jacket."

"Gordon," Deana said, weariness dripping from her voice. Rachel too looked less than pleased with his comment, but said nothing, hanging in the back of the group.

The hostess took it in stride and gave me a bright smile. "You're tall, but you look like an easy fit and we have several jackets that might work."

"Thanks," I said, feeling about an inch tall.

But the hostess was correct. A waiter came out with two jackets and the first one I tried on was a good fit. Hannah, Deana, and Rachel all commented I looked great, making Gordon glower.

Our server gave us a choice between a la carte dining options or a chef's tasting choice. Gordon, in his asshole element, gave the a la carte options a quick once over and fired off a list of what we'd be eating. Everyone ordered wine or whiskey, in Gordon's case, but when the waiter came to me, Gordon said, "He's twenty. You want a pop, Nicky? Maybe some milk?"

"Gordon!" Deana said more sharply. Beside me, Hannah reached under the table and took my hand.

"Water's fine for me, thanks," I said.

"Dad, can we not do this tonight?" Hannah asked. "With Brandon, with everything...?"

"What? Oh, I'm just giving the kid shit. Nicky, if I hurt your feelings, I truly apologize," Gordon said.

"No offense taken, Gordy," I said, and beside Gordon, Rachel choked on a laugh. Gordon's smile dimmed, and before he said anything, I said to Rachel, "I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk much. What is it you do for work, Rachel?"

"I'm a TV producer," she said, giving me a warm smile. Christ, she was beautiful. Her lips were painted that evening in a color somewhere between pink and peach, soft and immensely kissable. Her gray eyes held me sway and it took a moment to register what she said.

"Wait, really? Anything I might have heard of?"

"Charlene Schwartz's 'Country Mile?'"

"Oh my God," Hannah said, "I love that show." To me, she asked, "Have you seen it?"

"I've heard of it, I think," I said. "Travel show, right?"

"Exactly," Rachel said. "Charlene and our film crew visit hotels and bed and breakfasts all over the world and get in some culture and good food."

"Sounds great," Deana said.

"We are watching that sometime," Hannah said. "I love it. It's so smart and they're really kind on the show to all the people they see."

"Doesn't hurt much that the host is stacked either," Gordon said, drawing dead silence from the table. "Oh, what, did I say something politically incorrect? Jesus, lighten up."

"How about you, Gordon?" I asked. "How's the lawyering business?"

"Booming," he said, clearly pleased the attention was back on him. He launched into a story I couldn't follow, about litigation brought against one of his clients and how he usually didn't like things to go to court, but it was such a bullshit case that he and his client agreed it should be seen in a court just to shine light on cockroach litigators who would sue anyone or anything just to get some money. To keep the peace I tried to sound suitably impressed but my eyes glazed over a few minutes in and I was desperately grateful when our first course arrived. I don't think I was the only one.

As I tried the mushroom carpaccio, Gordon leveled his gaze across the table t me and gave me the full blast of his smirk. "Boring you?"

"Uh. No. Just different worlds, I guess."

"I understand. And what is it you do for work now? I understand you had a mishap in college, is that right?"

Hannah drained her glass of wine in one gulp as I cleared my throat. "Uh. Yeah. That's right. I was kicked out my freshman year. Right now, I'm between jobs, but I was working at a gas station the last year or so."