Previously: Homecoming, Part II [X]

Final part. Fluffy and sweet, with a hint of hot sex.

Rated: X. NSFW.

* * * * *

Homecoming, Part III

By the time I was partially dressed enough to run after her, I could hear the truck pulling out of the drive, so I had settled for calling instead. I wasn’t surprised that she ignored my calls. I only had her cell number and not her home address or phone number, so I didn’t know what else to do. I looked for her in the local phonebook, but the only Carlins listed were Arthur and Glen. I considered calling Arthur to ask for her address, but decided against it on the grounds that maybe she didn’t need her dad knowing, well, anything about what had happened, basically. Still, it was, as previously discussed, a very small town, so I got up early on Sunday morning – that wasn’t a problem, as I hadn’t really slept much anyway – and headed down to the diner on Main. Theresa, who had been the waitress there all my life and never seemed to age as much as a day, was quick to supply the information that Spencer lived at the old Cameron place, out by the ballpark. It only took me two cups of coffee and a plate of the best scrambled eggs I’d ever tasted to get round to asking her. I didn’t want to seem desperate and obvious, after all.

The old Cameron house had been a working farm some forty or so years ago so was one of the more remote places in town, sitting on an access road by itself. The nearest neighbour had to be a good half mile down the road. It was very Spencer, if that makes sense. The white house looked freshly painted, probably in the last couple of years, and just like something from a movie: two floors; large porch all around; actual white picket fence enclosing a small, well-kept garden from the overgrown vegetation around it; two large barns, one with many faded oil stains out front, indicating that she probably used it for fixing cars; the windows had big wooden shutters painted kelly green. Again, I wondered if she lived here alone. It looked to be at least three bedrooms, definitely a large house for one person.

There was no sign of activity, though, and no cars or trucks out front. The air was very still and calm. I stood on the porch, pulled back the screen and knocked on the main door. There was no answer. I stood there for a while. Well, it was more like two hours and forty minutes, but who’s counting? By the time the noon sun was making me uncomfortably sticky, I figured she wasn’t coming back any time soon, so I headed back into town. The garage was locked up for the day, so I went to the only other place I could think of.

“Hey, Ash,” Arthur smiled at me as he got out of his car with his wife. “Been here long?” He didn’t seem at all surprised to find me sitting on the steps of his front porch.

“Not long.”

He nodded and his wife squeezed their linked hands. Married the best part of thirty years and still holding hands like highschoolers. I envied him his life.

“It’s good to see you again, Ashley,” Paula commented. “You coming in for a drink or something?”

“No, thanks, Mrs C. I just wanted a word with the big guy here.”

She shrugged slightly and smiled at me before pressing a kiss to her husband’s cheek. As she headed into the house, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his suit and rocked on his heels, looking down at me.

“How’d it go with the appraiser?” he asked.

“What?” I’d almost forgotten that I’d even seen Grady Fletcher the previous day. It wasn’t exactly uppermost in my mind. “Oh, that. Yeah, okay, I guess. He’s gonna send me some figures to look over.”

“You didn’t come here to talk shop, did you?” He sat down next to me, laying the suit jacket that was over his arm on the top step.

“Not really.” We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us staring out at the street. “I went out to the old Cameron place,” I finally commented.

He nodded. “She came to Mass this morning. First time in years. And then we all went for lunch in Anderson.”

“How’s Glen?” I knew from the phonebook that Glen’s address was in Anderson, so I figured it had been a family thing.

Arthur gave a soft chuckle. “Him and Chelsea and the boys are all good, but that’s not what you came here to talk about either, is it?”

I shook my head and we lapsed back into silence. This shouldn’t be so hard. I just wanted to ask Arthur where his daughter might be, but I really didn’t feel up to explaining myself because I wasn’t sure that I could. I had no idea what was happening. I had no idea why I felt so lost and miserable. I supposed that the fact I had been sitting on his front porch would tell him more than he probably needed to know already. He was good at reading people, Arthur.

“She’s avoiding me,” I managed to say.

“Probably,” he agreed. I could tell he was waiting for me to say more and I sensed that he wouldn’t push me if I didn’t want to.

I shrugged. “I wish she wasn’t.” He just nodded, but didn’t say anything. “Do you know where she is?”

“No, I honestly don’t, Ash. She took off right after lunch saying she had somewhere to be.”

“Do you know what’s happening?” I was aware of how weak-ass that sounded.

“Between you two?” he asked. “I can guess.” He grinned a little and nudged my shoulder with his. “Maybe a dad doesn’t want to know all the details of what his little girl gets up to, you know.” I actually blushed. Me. Blushing. “Just give her some time,” he offered.

I sighed. “I don’t have time.”

“You still heading back to LA tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to at all, but I did have things I couldn’t avoid, like a meeting with my manager and one of the record companies who wanted me to work with one of their newer artists. “You think she’ll be back tonight?” What I really wanted to ask why she had run from me, but I figured that it might fall under the category of ‘things a father doesn’t want to think about’.

“I don’t know. When she gets an idea in her head, she can be pretty stubborn, my daughter.”

“Yeah.” I smiled and shut my eyes. Just like every time I had done that in the past ten days, images of Spencer flooded my brain. Maybe she was stubborn and infuriating, but she was also beautiful and captivating and smart and funny and hot and sexy and sweet and charming and just about everything that you could possibly want in a girl. And I wanted her so bad that I felt my skin was screaming with need for her.

“Do you want to come in?” Arthur asked. “Paula makes the best brownies you’ve ever tasted.”

I grinned. “Well, I do love brownies but, no, I think I should go home and pack.”

“So, you’re really going then?” He sounded almost disappointed in me.

“Work. There’s a singer who wants me to collaborate on her new album.” I think he could tell that I wasn’t going to say much. I couldn’t. My mind was in too much turmoil to really talk to anyone except his daughter and I didn’t even have any idea what I could possibly say to her. Not that she wanted to talk to me, obviously.

“Will we see you again soon, Ash?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. I had planned to sell the house and the cars and never return, but I didn’t know what I thought now.

“Well, we missed you. I missed you,” he added for emphasis. “It was so good seeing you again. Don’t be a stranger for so long this time.” He stood up. “Will you call to let me know you got home okay?” That made me smile. He was such a dad.

“I promise.”

* * *

Eight weeks later and the weather was starting to turn a little colder. I was quite glad of that, actually. The rain matched my mood better. I’d like to pretend that I had gotten over what had happened, but I hadn’t. There was barely an hour of the day when I didn’t play everything back in my head to wonder what had happened, why Spencer had just got up and left, what I might have done differently. She still wouldn’t take my calls. Even though I’d got her home number, all I ever got was her machine. The first couple of times, I had left messages, asking her to call me, trying to make it sound as if I wasn’t knawing myself apart inside wanting to speak to her. After a week or so, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to call me back, I stopped saying anything. I just hung up. I couldn’t stop myself from calling, though. And sending cards and flowers. And occasionally calling Arthur. We actually never discussed Spencer, even though we both knew that was the only thing on my mind.

I tried going out a few times, with my sister, with my friends, but it all seemed so hollow. And, besides, it made me feel the need to crawl back into a bottle or something a little more hard-core and I didn’t want to be that person any more. Work wasn’t exactly a bed of roses, either. I don’t think the record company wanted me to write songs of longing and regret for their little rock-chick-to-be. A power ballad is one thing, but I think they were expecting the album to be a little more hard living and, well, old me than I was currently up to giving them. That was really the problem, though. I wasn’t the old me any more. I was me, post-Spencer. I think my sister diagnosed me as love-sick. As if the great Ashley Davies had ever been in love, I had told her. She didn’t believe me. Fair enough. I didn’t believe me.

And then it occurred to me that staying in LA and feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to get anything resolved. I was letting myself turn into a pathetic mess and that was not who Ashley Davis was. You gotta go big or go home, so I decided to go out swinging. I made some calls and took the next plane out. I met with dad’s lawyer before I even reached the house. He handed me everything I needed with a puzzled look, but he didn’t question me. Why should he? I was his client and his job was to do whatever I wanted, obviously within legal reason. I drove over to the old Cameron place, the buff envelope sitting in the passenger seat of my rental car, wondering if Spencer would be home. She wasn’t. That was maybe for the best, as I found that I was almost paralysed with fear. I stuck the envelope between the screen and the front door and headed home to sit in the kitchen and wait.

It was about nine when I heard the truck pull up, its heavy engine cutting through the almost silence. I listened as the scuffing sounds of workboots on wood approached the kitchen door. I swallowed, trying to keep my nerves in check, although I had to let go of my coffee cup because my hands were shaking so hard. She appeared at the door, dressed in her overalls. She took my breath away.

“Eight people today have told me that you were back. Eight.” Judging by her demeanour and the deceptively even tone of her voice, she seemed annoyed by this fact. I didn’t even know how anyone knew, since I’d driven from the lawyer’s to Spencer’s and straight home. I started to say as much.

“How’d -”

“This is why I’ve never dated anyone in town, Ash,” she interrupted. She was starting to pace. “Because everyone knows everything.” Well, I already knew from her choice of house how much she valued her privacy. I wondered if she knew how incredibly hot she was when she was all agitated and bothered. I was finding it difficult to focus just being in the same room with her. Bizarrely, though, the more she paced and seemed off-kilter, the more calm it made me. I could actually feel confidence seeping back into me. If she was this rattled, then clearly I had gotten to her. Oh yeah, baby, I still had it.

“Are you even listening to me?” Wow, I guess she continued to talk while I was giving myself a little victory shoulder roll. Good thing I hadn’t gone with a fist pump.

I grinned at her and shook my head. “Not really. You’re babbling.” That shocked her enough to stop pacing. “Can I get you something?” I asked, changing tack. “Coffee? Tea?” I paused and gave her my best lowered eyes followed by full stare combo. “Me?” Her nostrils actually flared slightly. I was definitely back in this game.

She ignored both my question and my awesome stare and just replied, “Why did you come back, Ash?”

“This is my home, Spence. I live here.” I surprised myself with that one. But, even as I said it, I realised that it was true.

“Yeah, right,” she spat out.

I shrugged. “You can choose not to believe me if you like, but I’m keeping the house and moving back here.” I admit that I was winging it, but I recognised that, with or without Spencer, this was my home now. That’s why LA had felt so wrong. Well, apart from Spencer not being there, of course. And, after all, I could pretty much work from anywhere.

“And your little surprise?” she challenged, pulling a familiar envelope from her pocket.

“A present.” I’d already decided to give her the title to the Auburn when I was still planning on selling up. I admit that my method of delivering the surprise had been intended to get her over here, but I would have given it to her even if I’d stayed in LA.

“A two-hundred thousand dollar present?” she exclaimed incredulously.

I gave her my broadest, flirtiest grin. “What can I say? I’m very giving.”

“You know I can’t accept it.”

“You need me to remind you just how giving I can be?” I stood up and took a single step towards her. When she didn’t immediately step away, I took another.

“Ash,” she said in a warning tone. I kept walking towards her anyway. I never much cared for warnings.

“You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left,” I murmured. She lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. “And I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about me.” I came to a halt in front of her, only about a foot away. I cupped her cheek and pulled her face up so I could look at her properly. “I don’t get what the problem is, Spence. I’m really not that scary.” I decided to say everything that had been consuming me for the past few weeks. “Did I move too fast? Did I push you too hard? Because, you’re the one who kissed me. You had the chance to walk away before anything happened. You think I’m the same person that you heard about in high school? Because, I promise you that I’m not.” Technically, that wasn’t entirely true. Right up until the first time we had kissed, I was completely still the hump-and-dump type. But I knew enough that I didn’t want that with her. I was willing to admit to myself that I’d fallen in love with this girl, although I wasn’t ready to say that to her yet because I knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. “Hell, I even asked you out on a date. Is that the problem? Is it because you don’t date people in town? Is it because you only like to date on your terms?” Oh, the eyes went down again for that one. Seemed like I might be on the right track. “You need me to not chase you? You want to be the one who chases? Because I’m willing to stand here and be chased, if that’s what you want.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively. “Or, we can run around the kitchen island for a while until you catch me, if that makes you feel better.” That got a tiny smile. I rule. “Just tell me what you want, Spencer, because I know what I want. I know I want you.” I was feeling very bold now. “And I want you to want me, too. I want you to give me – this thing between us – a chance.”

Her eyes dropped again. I dropped my hand from her cheek to let her put a little distance between us. When she didn’t immediately move, I felt a thrill pass through me. Go big or go home, I repeated to myself. “I want the whole thing, Spence. I want hearts and flowers and dating and Sunday dinner with your parents. I want to be able to hold your hand when we’re grocery shopping at Thibaud’s. I want to sneak my arm around you in movie theatres. I want you to meet my sister. I think you’d like her, by the way. She’s kind of flaky sometimes, but she’s a good person, really, and she’s dying to meet you. I want late-night conversations on the phone and romantic dinners. I want -”

I was so big on my speech that I didn’t notice her moving closer to me until she was kissing me. After all that time, it felt so good. her mouth was insistent against mine and she gripped my waist, hauling me against her. I really had to remember not to wear anything expensive around her again, as my clothes would doubtless be covered in grease and oil. I let myself get consumed by the fire of her kiss for a few minutes, allowing our lips and tongues to say the things that she clearly didn’t want to put into words. I tried my best to keep things under control, but she was really going for it and I could hardly prevent myself from responding.

It was only when I felt her hand slip underneath my top and insistently make its way towards my breast that I realised what she was doing: she was being the old me. She was trying to distract me from thinking by making me feel. Well, hell, I wrote the book on that one. I pushed her back from me, wrenching my mouth away from hers. She looked at me, panting, her eyes dark with desire and a little confusion, her lips swollen from kissing. Jesus, she was so tempting. I just wanted to pull her back to me and strip her naked and have her on the kitchen floor, right there on the cold tile. I had to remind myself that I hadn’t come back for a quick tumble. I’d already had that and it wasn’t enough.

Mentally crossing my fingers and keeping my tone deliberately soft I said, “God knows I want this, but I need you to say something, Spencer.”

“I want you,” she said, her voice laced with need and seduction.

“I heard that one already.” Hey, look at me being all brave and not giving in to that. She flashed me a look of frustration. Oh, I knew how she felt. I always used to hate it when they wanted to talk feelings and all I wanted was a ride on the carnal train. I wasn’t exactly loving this whole shoe-on-the-other-foot place that I found myself in, but I figured this girl was worth it.

“What do you want me to say?”

I thought about it. Tiny steps, I figured. “Say you’ll come to dinner with me tomorrow. A proper date. I’ll pick you up at your house and everything. We’ll even go somewhere out of town, if you want.” She actually rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she agreed through gritted teeth. It’s a good thing I had fallen for her or I might have been tempted to slap her. I was offering her myself on a plate and it wasn’t really polite of her to make it seem like I was forcing her into human slavery or something, although the idea of Spencer in handcuffs might be something that I was willing to try at a later date.

She leaned back in towards me and looked ready to pick up where we left off, but I used every tiny bit of resolve that I had within me to cradle her face in my hands, holding her back enough that I could just kiss her softly.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered against her lips. “You don’t even have to buy me dinner first. I’ll pay.” I pulled back and gave her a wink.

She shook her head in disgust, at me or herself, I don’t know, and muttered, “Fine,” again. Well, there’s no denying that she knew how to sweet talk a girl. I placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the back door.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

* * *

Have you ever been so nervous that you wanted to throw up? Well, I went a step past that and actually got a little bit sick in my mouth on the way over to Spencer’s. It was a good thing that I’d brought some mints with me. It was understandable, though. The last time I went on an actual date, Clinton was still in the White House and Paris Hilton hadn’t even released a sex tape. Not wishing to be too ostentatious, I had driven over the rental car I’d picked up at the airport, rather than one of the cars in the garage, although I had flirted with the idea of the E-Type just to remind her of our little moment. I’d also considered and rejected the idea of bringing her flowers. It wasn’t prom, after all.

I pulled outside of her house and took a steadying breath as I got out of the car. I noticed the Carlin Autos truck parked over by one of the barns, so at least she was home. It had occurred to me several times on the drive over that she might not be. I knocked on the front door and smoothed my palms over the little black dress I’d put on. The door opened and there she was, standing in her hall, looking more nervous than I think I had ever seen another human being, save for myself.

“You look incredible,” I said. She did. She had on this little bitty skirt that showed off her incredible legs and a strappy top that just seemed to kiss her body in all the right places and a pair of heels that I knew would mean that she would be that bit taller than me when we kissed. She had hardly any make-up on but, then again, she didn’t really need any. And then she blushed and bit her bottom lip and it made her look about sixteen years old and made me feel like some dirty old pervert. But, hey, I could live with that.

“Um, hi,” she replied. “You look really good, too.” We stood there, smiling at each other like a couple of idiots, until she broke the silence by saying, “So, um, you want to come in while I get my things?”

I stepped inside the door and let it fall closed behind me as she headed up the stairs. The house smelled of vanilla and Spencer, I noted. I noticed pictures of her family on the walls leading up the stairs, but was relieved that there was none of Spencer and anyone else. Maybe she kept them somewhere else, of course. She returned within a couple of minutes and smiled at me as she came down the stairs again, her jacket over her arm and her purse in her hand. Before she reached the bottom, she stopped and looked at me, gripping the rail and nodding to herself.

“Look, I’m sorry. For, you know, before. And for my behaviour yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” I replied cautiously. Suddenly, I was the one feeling the need to look at my feet.

“It was -” she trailed off. “I was -” She stopped and descended the last couple of stairs. Her eyes were darting all around the hall, looking everywhere but at me. “I don’t usually do things like that. You know, not just the leaving so soon part.” She looked adorably embarrassed. “I don’t usually do any of that.” I figured she meant sex without a first date. “And I might have panicked a little bit.”

“A little bit?” She looked up at me, I think possibly surprised that my tone was teasing and not remotely reproachful.

She grinned. “A lot.”

“It’s really okay, Spencer.”

“No, it’s not. It was incredibly unfair of me.” She looked embarrassed again and I knew she meant that lack of reciprocation, as well as the leaving. “I wanted to, but I just couldn’t -” She stopped again.

“Start something we couldn’t finish?” I asked. She nodded. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done anything, knowing that I had to leave. It wasn’t fair of me to expect that of you.”

“I shouldn’t have led you on in the first place.” Led me on? Did she have any idea how adorably precious she was? As if I have ever needed led on.

“It’s only leading me on if you don’t intend to follow through,” I stated boldly, giving her a little wink to let her know that I was really okay with all of this. And, you know, with her there, looking so worried and all kinds of beautiful and about to go out on a date with me, I didn’t really care what had led us here, that she was the one who had cut and run, instead of me. I wanted to say that I didn’t expect her to go into all of it right then and there because, well, we’d have time to go over everything later because I wasn’t going anywhere, but I didn’t want to scare her off again, so I just waited for her to speak.

She smiled back at me and then turned thoughtful for a moment. “Did you mean what you said yesterday?”

“Which bit?”

“All of it. Moving back, dating, everything.”

I wrung my hands nervously. “Yes. I did.”

“And when did you decide all of this?” She was looking at me now, holding her breath for my answer.

Balls to the wall, figuratively speaking, Davies. Swing for the fences. “The first moment you kissed me.”

She smiled then, an honest, glowing, utterly gorgeous smile. “Good answer.”

“Thanks.” I rocked on my heels and then nodded my head towards the door. I wanted to move this on before we regressed back from getting somewhere to going nowhere. “Shall we?” I held out my hand to her.

She took my hand but didn’t actually move when I turned to open the door. I looked back quizzically.

“I was thinking,” she started, moving towards me with this fantastically sly little smirk on her face. Oh, hi there, patented Carlin smirk. I had missed you. “I was thinking,” she repeated, “that maybe you don’t have to buy me dinner first.”

“Oh?” I think I deserve some kind of medal for actually saying something at that moment because I had a very good idea what she meant and my entire body just slammed into overdrive. She flashed me the smirk again. I really loved that smirk. I might marry her just to get access to that smirk on a daily basis. I might also try not think too hard about wanting to marry her because I was pretty sure that I did want that and that would probably scare me if I thought about it.

“Uh-huh.” Somehow, her purse and jacket had been discarded because both of her hands were suddenly free enough to be sliding my jacket off my shoulders.

“You, uh, don’t want to go out?”

She leaned in and brushed her lips softly against my neck. “I’ve gone off the idea,” she murmured. “The restaurant might not be able to accommodate what I want to do.”

“Really?” Who squeaked that in an incredibly high-pitched tone? It couldn’t have been me because I was busy sliding my own arms around this glorious girl’s waist, pulling her closer to me. I allowed myself a little grin as she straightened up.

“What?” she asked me, her eyes soft with some kind of emotion.

“You’re taller,” I replied, as if she should know what that meant.

“Yeah,” she replied, a little puzzled, but still smiling at me, “I am.” She started to lean in and I knew what that meant and I knew how quickly I would lose focus on the important things on my mind in a matter of seconds, so I hesitated. She didn’t miss that fact and she stopped. “What?”

“Look, I’m all for skipping dinner and heading straight for dessert,” I started, loving the little bashful smirk that elicited, “but I just want to check that this, um, you know, isn’t your way of getting out of the date altogether.” I sort of rushed the last part, forcing it out before my mind had time to think better of saying it at all. I just needed to be clear with her where this was all headed.

She leaned in, brushing her cheek against mine until her mouth was next to my ear, her warm breath causing tingles and other good sensations all over my body, but especially right between my legs. I needed to get her secrets at some point because this girl could reduce me to a puddle of steaming mush with barely a hint of a whisper of a figment of a fleeting touch.

“This,” she whispered emphatically, or at least as emphatically as a whisper could be, “is my way of saying that I assume you’re now my girlfriend and there will be other, less pressing times to have dinner.”

“Oh.” I was not expecting that at all. I let the idea sink in for a moment and then repeated my “Oh,” this time in a slightly more sensual, much less surprised tone.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” she murmured against the shell of my ear, her tongue tracing its outline.

“No, not wrong,” I breathed, struggling to form coherent thought, just as I knew I would.

“Good,” she continued, interspersing her words with little nips at my neck, which she was thoughtfully soothing with her tongue, “because I don’t do this unless I’m serious.”

My hands went to cradle the back of her head, almost of their own accord. “Nope, definitely serious,” I hissed, glorying in the sensations she was causing. “Couldn’t be more serious.” I vaguely wondered if this might be a good time to propose, just to show my intentions were pure, but her hands had dropped to my dress, which she was slowly working up to bunch at my waist and she was pressing me back into the door, so I wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, to be honest, because talking can be overrated sometimes, especially when there are so many other things to do with your mouth, as she was quite ingeniously showing me at that point. There would definitely be time for talking later, just like there would be time for dinner later, and I could find out everything about her, every last detail, but that could most certainly wait.

But then she took a step back from me and I could feel cold panic creeping up my spine. She wasn’t really stopping, though. What she was doing was taking my hand and walking backwards, pulling me towards the stairs, her eyes holding both a promise and a question. In response, I stroked my thumb across the back of her hand and gave her a slow, sly grin. And it was suddenly as if we had nothing but time as we moved slowly and wordlessly up the stairs and she led me to the last door at the end of the hallway. Her bedroom, like the rest of the house, was bright, airy and uncluttered. The wooden-framed bed even had an old-fashioned patchwork comforter spread across the bottom.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” she said. Spencer was still holding my hand, but she was looking somewhere to my left, not at me. She looked so embarrassed by her admission, but it made my heart sing to know that she trusted me enough both to bring me into her bedroom and to tell me that. I was hardly used to feeling humble, but there was no better word to describe how I felt.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not…” I let the statement trail off. She turned and gave me the tiniest hint of a smirk, as we both knew that there wasn’t any going back or stopping this time. She could hardly run from her own bedroom.

She dropped my hand and grabbed the bottom of her top, easing it over her head and letting it fall to the floor. I wanted to step closer and touch her, but something told me she didn’t want that. I groaned in anticipation as I watched her kick off her shoes and push her skirt over her hips, letting it fall. She was standing barefoot in only her underwear and I was almost helpless with need. She moved around in back of me and slowly lowered the zip of my dress. I stepped out of my heels as she pushed the straps off my shoulders and the dress pooled at my feet.

She pushed my hair aside with one hand as she dipped her head to nibble gently along the back of my neck. Her arms snaked around my waist, holding me in place as she tucked her chin over my shoulder.

“I want you,” she whispered, just by my ear. “I want this.” She emphasised her intent by sliding her hands up to cup my breasts, her fingers gently kneading my flesh through the lace of my bra. My nipples felt impossibly sensitive and I moaned loudly. Then she started sucking a patch of skin just beneath my ear. I knew she was marking me and I arched back into her, finding her show of possessiveness incredibly arousing. Her hands moved from my breasts and I felt her swiftly remove her own bra and then my own. Within a few seconds, I could feel her bare flesh pressed against my back and her hands were on my hips. She shuffled us both forwards until we reached the edge of the bed, when she turned me in her arms and kissed me deeply, before pushing me down onto the bed. She actually pushed me. My almost-naked ass bounced on the bed as I landed. And she just grinned down at me, ridiculously pleased with herself.

As it turned out, that little opening move was just the first sign that Spencer Carlin was pretty take-charge in bed. She worshipped every part of me with her hands, her fingers and her mouth, lips and tongue, all the time whispering little words of encouragement or teasing me with promises of what she was going to do to me or with me. At the same time, she was maddeningly gentle and slow. It only took a few minutes for me to become insensible with need for her. She must have removed what remained of our underwear, because the next thing I was truly aware of was her hand cupping me and me nearly levitating off the bed in response.

“Fuck, baby, yes,” I moaned.

And then she was moving all over me and I was wetter than I ever had been in my life. When I felt her fingers exploring my slick, wet folds and I heard her whisper, “I love that you’re so wet for me,” I thought I might come there and then. When, minutes later, I felt her mouth on me for the first time, I did come, loud and fast and hard, screaming her name. I was beyond mortified at my lack of control, but she just showed me yet another one of her many smirks and whispered, “Well, we’ll just have to start again, then.” She promptly crawled back up my body and did just that.

* * *

We never made the restaurant that night. We didn’t make it for any of the next few nights, either. Which was more than fine with me. After all, I could eat whenever she was at work, even though she snuck away every lunchtime and just showed up at the mansion. There isn’t a sexier sight in this world than Spencer Carlin standing in the doorway with her predatory smirk. Except maybe Spencer Carlin, wet and naked, leaning over you with a slightly different predatory smirk. Like I said, it was all good.

They say that every cloud has a silver lining and I suppose it’s true, because if my father hadn’t up and died, I would never have come home. And if I hadn’t come home, I would never have met my wife and understood that real meaning of the word ‘home’ at all.

I think I played it pretty cool, waiting a whole three months before proposing to her with the ring that I had bought within days of our first real date and had carried around with me every day thereafter. Of course, you can’t actually get married here so I had to fly everyone to Vermont – I know, I know, a real cliché – and state law forbids our marriage from being recognised, but it’s recognised by the people that count most: my in-laws and our friends and neighbours. I can’t tell you the little rush that I get every time someone in town says something like ‘I saw that wife of yours earlier’ or ‘You wanna get your wife to give me a call about Willie’s truck?’

My wife. My sweet, kind, loving, insatiable, incredibly hot wife. Life doesn’t get any better than this.