Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama Page 8

  I smile at his comment. Talking to him is the best part of my day, too. We text throughout the day, but nothing can compare to hearing his voice every night before I go to sleep. I snuggle down into the covers just as the screen on my phone signals a facetime request from Dean. I hit accept and his beautiful face fills the screen.

  “Fuck, you are so gorgeous,” he says, and I shake my head. His eyes roam over me and his lips tip up into a smile. “Tilt the phone.” He demands and I oblige, revealing my breasts. He groans. “God what I wouldn’t give to be next to you right now.”

  “Ya know, there’s this thing called phone sex that I hear is pretty hot,” I say, and he drops his head back on a groan.

  “Fuck. Yes.” I lose his face but he’s back shortly, sans shirt. “You know what I want?”

  “Mmm, no baby. What?”

  “I want you to open the nightstand drawer and grab what’s in it.” I prop the phone up on the stand beside me, making a show of crawling across the bed, my panty clad ass pointed directly at the camera. He groans behind me. I slide the drawer open. Shit. I go back to my side of the bed and hold the vibrator up. “Bought that before I left, and we haven’t had a chance to play. This is even better though, cos I get to watch you play with yourself.” I rub my thighs together because I want that. Badly. He notices the movement and chuckles. “Lose the undies, babe.”

  I do as I’m told and wriggle out of my panties, making a show of tossing them over my shoulder.

  “Lemme see that pretty pussy,” Dean demands, and I climb to my knees, the phone still propped up on the nightstand against the lamp. “Oh, fuck yes,” he murmurs, and I watch his hand disappear down the screen. He adjusts the phone so it’s below his cock and I have a clear view up his body. That beautiful dick is standing at attention, thick and hard, a vein running up the underside of it. A vein that I want to run my tongue along.

  I lick my lips, dragging my hand across my chest and over my pebbled nipples. Dean gives his cock a hard stroke as he watches. “I miss your cock,” I say, and he chuckles again.

  “It misses you, too.” I continue my path from my chest down my stomach, pausing when I reach my pussy, taking in Dean’s face. He is still stroking himself, the cords in his neck popping out, his eyes heated with desire.

  “Is this what you want to watch?” I ask, dipping a finger inside of myself and biting my lip. I’m already wet and he knows it.

  “More,” he demands, pumping faster. I insert another finger which elicits a moan from me. “Fuckk,” he groans. “Been too long without you, baby. I’m not gonna last. Grab the toy.” I pick the vibrator up with my free hand and turn it on. I start to slide it inside, but he stops me. “Other hole,” he grits out, and my hand inside of me stills.

  “But…” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Good, now be a good girl and do what I say.” I stay on my knees, dragging the vibrator from the front to the back, and press it there, the pressure and vibration drawing out a moan from me. My eyes fall closed. “No.” Dean snaps, and they fly back open, “eyes on me. Look at what you do to me.”

  I watch as he strokes himself, cum dripping out the tip of his cock. I whimper as I drag my finger over my clit. I’m so close already.

  “If I was there, I’d flip you over, face down on the bed. Slide into your tight pussy, that pretty ass of yours in the air. Then I’d use that,” he motions at the vibrator, “turn it on high, and press it against that sweet fuckin’ ass of yours. I’d hold it there while I powered in and out of you, overwhelm all your senses. Make you lose your mind, same way you make me lose mine.”

  “So close,” I whimper, “c-can I please come?” I beg, my legs shaking from supporting my weight.

  “That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself just like that,” he demands, his hand still stroking up and down that beautiful cock of his. I watch as his orgasm tear through him, his eyes still on me, his lip caught between his teeth. I press the vibrator in just a little and it’s like hitting a switch. My orgasm hits me and I scream out his name, letting it wash over me, riding the wave until I’m completely sated. I open my eyes and he’s still staring at me, cum all over his chest and stomach. I drop down against the bed, breathing heavily. He chuckles.

  “Can’t wait to be next to you again, Whit.”

  “Mm,” I mumble in agreement, completely exhausted and content.

  “Sweet dreams, gorgeous,” he murmurs before disconnecting the call and I’m out like a light.

  Dean

  I slam the door on the ‘stang and jog back up the stairs of the house go lock the door. Knocking twice on the frame, I make my way back down to my car. Well, Jim’s car. Mine now. The 1969 Mustang fully restored, and garage kept this entire time. I’ve spent the last four weeks clearing the house out, selling a lot of Jim’s things and keeping others.

  I also hired an interior decorator to update the house so that I could list it on one of those home rental places until I decide to sell or keep it. The neighbor down the road said she’d check in on it occasionally and be available if any renters have any issues, doesn’t hurt that I’m paying her a song to do it for me.

  “That the last of it?” Greg, the new owner of Jim’s bar asks.

  “That’s it, man.” He met me here to get the last of the old bar signs that Jim had stored in the barn. I couldn’t part with them, so I was thrilled when Greg said he’d like to hang them at the bar to honor Jim. “Can’t thank ya enough for meeting me out here.”

  “Ain’t no thing. I’ll be happy to carry out at least a little bit of Jim’s legacy when we reopen.” Legacy. I wonder what Jim would think if he were here. How he’d feel about the decisions I’m making. Would he have wanted me to sell?

  That was a hard decision to make. I chewed on it for the first week, trying to realistically figure out if I could run two bars in two different states. Whitley said she would support me with whatever my decision was, but all that traveling back and forth wouldn’t be fair to her or our bar so when Greg made me an offer, I took it. I gave him a good deal.

  “Appreciate that, man. I really do. Any questions or you need anything, you’ve got my number. Don’t hesitate to reach out. Now, I’ve got a girl I gotta get my ass home to.” We shake hands and he takes off, leaving me standing in the driveway of my newly acquired mountain home. It really is gorgeous up here on the bluff. Can’t wait to bring Whitley back occasionally, spend some quality time together, fucking her on every surface. That patio sex was some of the hottest sex of my life. Fuck. I miss her so much.

  I jump in and crank the engine over as she purrs to life. Time to get the fuck out of here and home to my girlfriend.

  Whit

  “Hand to God!” Jim-Billy shouts over the low hum of the other bar patrons. Next to him, Jax grins and shakes his head. They’ve both been here for a few hours, Jim-Billy because that’s what he does, his ass is in that seat every day from the time we open until about ten at night, when he finally drags himself home. Jax has been here for a few hours, lookin’ distraught. I’m sure it’s got somethin’ to do with his secretary, though he won’t come out and say it. Him and Avery have been playing this game of cat and mouse for so long, I’m not sure they even know which way is up at this point.

  “You’re nuts, man,” Jax says, sipping his whiskey. “There ain’t no way you boned Julia Roberts.” I snort, the whole thing ridiculous. God love him, Jim-Billy could barely pull Rhonda, the town bicycle. And that’s saying a lot because Rhonda will fuck basically anything with two legs and a dick. Jim-Billy takes a swig of his beer.

  “I said her name was Julia Roberts, didn’t say she was THE Julia Roberts,” he winks at me and Jax guffaws.

  “Y’all need Jesus,” I conquer, sliding their meals out of the food window and dropping their plates in front of them. They go about eating while I stock the beer coolers. It’s going on almost ten o’clock, which is the time we close on Sundays and I�
�m dog ass tired. Our new bartender quit already, so I’ve been cross training Kolby to work the kitchen and the bar, which has put me working extra hours on top of the office work and I’m just spent.

  I’m sliding the last beer into the cooler when the front door opens. I don’t bother turning around.

  “Sorry, you missed the last call. We’re officially closed for the evenin’,” I shout over my shoulder.

  “You sure about that, sugar?” I whip around. Dean’s standing just inside the door, looking massive and fucking gorgeous. I’ve missed him so much it literally hurts. My feet come unstuck and I break off into a sprint, flinging myself at him. He braces to catch me, going back on one foot, his hands sliding under my ass to hold me up. I bury my face in his neck and inhale his scent.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper, pulling back and taking in his beautiful face. His previously trimmed beard is much longer now, thick and luscious. His hair is so long he’s got it pulled back into the sexiest man bun I’ve ever seen.

  “Fuck, but I missed you,” he growls before slamming his lips against mine. I tug his ponytail holder out of his hair, letting it fall around his face and sliding my fingers into it, rocking myself against him. Dean breaks the kiss and walks us towards the office.

  “Lock up when you leave,” he directs at Jax and Jim-Billy, the only patrons left. I’m kissing his face, his neck, my hands roaming over his shoulders. He fumbles for his keys in his pocket before unlocking the office door. It’s barely shut before he has my back pressed to it, my legs still wrapped around him. I can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against my center, and I grind against it. He hisses out a breath.

  “Fuck, baby. Slow down, slow down.”

  “No,” I mumble, pushing back and tugging his shirt out of his jeans, “no slowin’ down.” He groans as I slide my hand between us and drag it up his hard length. He captures my wrist, stopping me, and I huff out a sigh. His chuckle washes over me as I unlatch my legs from around him and drop my feet to the floor.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were comin’ home?” I ask, letting my fingers slide underneath his shirt, tracing a path along his waistband. He braces his arm above my head on the door and tilts my chin up, pressing a long, slow kiss to my mouth.

  “And miss this homecoming? Never.”

  I slant my head and slip my tongue into his mouth, tasting and taking. His hand snakes a path down, popping the button on my jeans. He drags the zipper down, slipping his hand inside my pants. Yanking my panties to the side, he drags his finger through my folds, kicking my feet apart. I moan as he slips two fingers inside me. Breaking our kiss, he drags his beard across my cheek, whispering in my ear.

  “Fuck yourself on my hand,” he demands, pressing his palm against my clit while his fingers are still inside of me. Nipping at my ear, he slides his tongue over the shell. I roll my hips, grinding my clit against his palm. I’m already so close to coming. Nothing I’ve done to ease the ache while he was gone has even compared to this man, the way he fucks me. I cling to his shoulders as I work myself against his hand, chasing my orgasm. He slides his fingers out of me, gripping my clit roughly as his other hand finds my throat, he squeezes. My eyes fall closed.

  “Look at me,” he commands, squeezing. My eyes pop open and my jaw goes slack. If it were anyone else, I’m sure I wouldn’t enjoy this. But, with Dean, I know I’m safe. “Have you been touching yourself while I was gone?” I nod my head, best I can with his hand still wrapped around my throat, my pulse fluttering against his finger. “What did you think of to get you off?”

  “Y-y-you,” I rasp out, still riding his hand, “I’m so close, honey.” He makes a noncommittal noise in his throat.

  “And what, you think I should let you come?” He asks, releasing my throat and stepping back, leaving me propped against the door. “Touch yourself,” he demands. My hand replaces his, fingers going straight to my clit.

  “Yessss,” I hiss out. “Pleasee, let me come.” My eyes are on him, watching me as he leans against the desk, wallet in hand, slowly dragging a condom out.

  “Stop.” He demands and my hand stills.

  “Dean,” I whine, my body screaming for release. He tears the wrapper open with his teeth, giving his cock a slow stroke with his hand before he rolls the condom down it.

  “Lose the shirt,” he crosses his arms over his chest, his beautiful cock jutting out in front of him. I frantically rip my shirt off and shimmy out of my jeans, kickin’ my boots off. I’m back on him in a hot second, climbing him like a fucking tree. I sink down on his length and cry out as he fills me to the hilt. Sex with Dean before was never this good. Don’t get me wrong, he always made sure I was satisfied. But this Dean, this Dean is hot. He’s in control and he isn’t afraid to tell me what he wants and exactly how he wants it.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear and his resolve snaps. Suddenly my back is to the desk, legs thrown over his shoulders, and he’s powering into me. The desk scrapes along the floor with each thrust. Each slam. Each punishing slide of his cock, the slight curve of it that always hits in just the right spot to make me scream.

  “Play with your tits,” he grits, watching as I obey. I twist my nipples and meet him thrust for thrust.

  “Dean, please. Please touch me,” I beg, watching him fuck me. He drags his hand up the inside of my thigh, finding my clit. It’s only a second before my orgasm tears through me, my hands slapping the desk, screaming his name. He’s right behind me, filling me to the hilt as he comes. He leans over me, pressing a kiss to my chest.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper, my heart thumping a staccato inside my chest. This man has the power to destroy me and I’m not sure I could live through the pain twice.

  Dean

  Dragging Whitley along behind me through the bar, I check to make sure everything has been closed properly and that the kitchen guys didn’t forget anything. She locks up the beer coolers while I check the grill and fryers, making sure everything is turned off and shut down for the night. Hitting the lights on the way out the front door, I turn to lock it and Whitley gasps.

  “Dean!” She cries out and I whip around.

  “What the fuck?” I growl, stalking towards her car, shattered glass scattered about. The word WHORE is spray painted in red across the side of it, tires slashed. The ‘stang sits untouched across the lot.

  “Go back inside, lock the door, and call the cops.” She does what I say, and I scan the lot, looking for anyone who might still be hanging out. I am fucking heated that someone would even think of doing this to Whitley, who would never hurt a god damn soul.

  I stalk to the door of the bar, banging twice and announcing that it’s me. The lock clicks and the door swings open as she hangs up the phone.

  “Derrick’s on his way.” She says and her eyes flick back and forth between mine, glassy as tears fill them. “Who would do something like this?” She asks, tears slipping over her lashes as I pull her against me.

  “Shhh. I don’t know,” I console her, tucking her head under my chin, “I don’t know, but I swear I’ll find out.”

  We stand like that for a few minutes, her crying silently in my arms. A knock on the door causes her to jump.

  “Whit, it’s Derrick,” is called from outside and I swing the door open, not letting go of my girl. “Anderson,” he greets, “glad to see you back. You got cameras installed outside?”

  Fuck.

  “No,” I huff out, frustrated, “it was on my to do list before I left town.”

  “Damn. Alright, well let me go nose around, see what I can find. Whitley, I called a tow truck for ya, they will be here shortly. Will have ‘er towed to the precinct, give it a good once over. See if we can come up with anything.”

  I give him a chin lift, a silent thank you for handling that call. I need to get my girl home, ASAP.

  Whitley

  There’s a quiet tap on the bathroom door.

  “It’s me,” Dean’s voice comes fr
om the other side of it. I flip the lock and swing the door open, pulling him inside quickly and relocking it. He’s got a white paper bag in his hand. My belly flip flops again, same as it’s been for the last month or so. Not really where I thought we would be doing this, in the Walgreens bathroom, but I can’t take these at either of our houses.

  “I didn’t know which one to get, so I bought three.” I look at his face, his green eyes bright with worry. They’re almost always an emerald color, but anytime he’s sad or worried, they’re a bright green. And he’s worried, his brows furrowed, the little worry line between his eyebrows more prominent than ever.

  “Thank you,” my voice trembles as I take the bag from his hands, sliding the boxes out. Three pregnancy tests. My belly dips again. I drop the boxes and make it to the stall, retching into the toilet. I’m two heaves in but Dean is right behind me, holding my hair out of my face and lightly rubbing my back while I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I flush and stand, giving him a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” I start but he cuts me off.

  “Babe. You don’t have to apologize every time you puke.” He gives me a sad smile before pulling me into him and pressing a kiss to my lips. I cringe, knowing my mouth tastes like throw-up, but also knowing that he doesn’t care. He’s grown accustomed to my puke mouth over the last month. At first, I thought it was the flu. But then it just wouldn’t stop, and it was only in the mornings. Which is why we’re here, locked inside the bathroom at Walgreens, getting ready to take a pregnancy test.

  I shove him out of the stall and take all three sticks in with me, closing and locking the door. Once I’m done, I replace the lids on all three tests, lining them up on top of the toilet paper holder. I flush the toilet and leave the stall, washing my hands as Dean leans against the door, the timer on his phone counting down from three minutes.

  Three minutes that we have to wait to find out if we’re going to be parents. I find myself unconsciously resting my hands on my stomach as I look at my face in the mirror.