“Oh, sweet geez-us,” she whispers, her body writhing. Her torso lifts then falls to the console intermittently, the pressure at her core building, searching for glorious liberation. “Brody. Oh. Gawd!” her words are interlaced with agonizing moans.
“That’s it, baby. You’re so
fucking
amazing,” again, he whispers the vulgarity, finding no other way to express the dire effect she has on him. “I love watching you go crazy. Cum for me, Savannah.” Fighting his urge to amp up his thrust, he maintains steadfast, his slow stroke fluid and deep, delivering himself to her from the tip to the base each and every exalted time.
“
Fu…ck
me,” she separates the verb as if that erases its profane nuance. The strange assimilation resonating, the usually omitted word from her vocabulary and its appearance into yet another sexual encounter with this man. Her body winding down, gives in to satiated emancipation.
Brody growls victoriously, pulling her limp torso up to his. Her arms slinging about his shoulders, her forehead rests against his.
“Brody. Brody. Brody,” his name escapes her tongue, her voice raspy and completely spent. “What am I going to do with you?” Her glazed-over eyes meet his, a victim to hypnotic coital endorphins.
“I’d say you’re
do
ing just fine.” He chuckles.
“Did you?” Savannah’s relaxed frame grows attentive with the realization that she got so lost in her own bliss, she didn’t even notice his. Brody shakes his head, releasing
Thor
from his most favorite nook in which to reside. “No,” she rebukes, “don’t take him away. We have to take care of you, too.” Brody gently coaxes her enticing hand away from a reverently alert
Thor.
“Oh, I’m not done,” he affirms, pulling the top of her little black dress up over her bosom. “I could watch you…like that,” he speaks of her climax, “all…night…long.” He smiles, adjusting his suit pants around his waist, safely tucking
Thor
away for a later unleashing. “My place. Round two?” He entices with a sultry kiss.
“You’re insatiable.” Savannah giggles.
“Only when it comes to good food, football and you.” He runs his finger down the bridge of her nose, lightly tapping the tip.
“Well, when you put it that way.” She contemplates her ranking with food and football, two of most any man’s must-haves. “How can I refuse.” She accommodates his guiding hands, shifting her body forward on the console, slipping over into the passenger seat.
Brody makes quick work of hopping out of the backseat and under the steering wheel, his suit shirt wrinkled and hanging open gives Savannah’s attentive eyes a clear view of his stacked torso—thick pecs giving way to a definitive crease down the center of his abdomen. The truck idles as he shifts into gear, his left hand guiding the wheel, his right purposely extended on the console, palm-side up. Savannah strokes her fingers along the massive palm until they interlock with his, a completely different union she could grow quite accustomed to with Brody McAlister.
Chapter Fourteen
A crisp, late-October afternoon finds a celebration at Buffy Bondurant’s home. Graciously bringing in the fall, her backyard looks something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Colorful leaves, quaint bales of hay and precisely sculpted handmade scarecrows are decadently arranged. Picnic tables adorned in autumn-themed cloths are topped with festive, disposable dinnerware, matching cups and napkins. Each table spread with homemade goodies and freshly pressed apple cider from the local orchard. An apple press is on-hand to display the tradition and sits aside an apple bobbing station, should advantageous party-goers want to get in on the fall fun.
Buffy quietly leads Zoey, Luka and neighborhood children in a game of pin the nose on the jack-o’-lantern. Her backyard full of family, friends and neighbors for her annual autumn harvest party.
Jac and Savannah sway in tire swings hanging from the huge live oak supporting the tree house. Having made their neighborly rounds and greetings, the two retreat for idle conversation. Jac watches Vangie as she tends to Payton at a far-off picnic table, serving him apple cider with a side of Buffy’s famous autumn gold pumpkin cake. Jac’s skeptical brow elevates, inspecting Payton, still distrustful based on Vangie’s confession of his probable infidelity. He and Jack Brigant sit across from one another chumming and catching up.
“Simmer down.” Savannah giggles at her overly protective eldest sister.
“Just letting them know I’ve got my eye on them,” Jac says.
“As if they had any doubt.” Savannah kicks up her legs causing her tire to swing more efficiently.
“It doesn’t bother you? That Mama invited Jack.”
“Nope. She told me she was going to. Said she just wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t. No skin off my nose,” Savannah adds, her tone detached. “It’s her party. She can invite whoever she wants.”
“You should have invited Brody.” Jac looks at Savannah, expectant of an answer as to why she did not.
“I thought about it. Until Mama said Jack accepted her invite.”
“Who cares if it makes him uncomfortable.” Jac throws her head in Jack’s direction. “He paraded his new
thing
in your face. Turnabout’s fair play.”
“It wasn’t
his
comfort level I was worried about,” Savannah says, clarifying her concern for Brody. “Besides, whatever Brody and I are or will be, I have no desire to rub it in Jack’s face. I’m not playing games. Really, it’s none of his business.”
“Ooh! Do I sense a bit of defense? A little ownership?” Jac stops swinging, her intent eyes focusing on Savannah, her easiest read. “You like this guy,” she declares, identifying with the sense of protection her baby sister exhibits for gym boy.
“Maybe.” Savannah refuses to look at Jac, robbing her of the satisfaction of the blatant truth on her warm expression. Comforted yet conflicted by the fact that Jac is always right. Just once she might revel in proving her mistaken.
“Good,” Jac affirms. “I’m glad you finally let your conscience recuperate. And I like Brody for you. Although, I’d just as soon keep an eye on him, too. With all those bloodsucking cougars he seems to have affiliated himself with.”
“I know. I’m not completely naive,
sister mine
,” Savannah spars, a kindred affection.
“Wonder why he didn’t bring his
girl
friend?” Jac continues to eye Jack and his partner in crime, Payton.
Savannah shrugs. “I told Mama if she was inviting him, she better invite Daisy. Don’t want her thinking about some kind of reconciliation.”
“Mama? Or the girlfriend?” Jac’s spidey senses kicking in.
“Oh great,” Savannah mutters. “I didn’t even think about that. He should have brought her.” She rolls her eyes with the thought of what Daisy may think knowing he is here among the ex’s family without her.
“He knows exactly what he’s doing,” Jac bites. “Ruffling your feathers by being here. And ruffling hers by excluding her. All the while playing the loyal card in front of Mama.”
“Aunt Savannah! Aunt Savannah!” Luka and Zoey chant her name, attempting to outrun one another, headed toward the tire swings. “We need your phone. For the lyrics to the jack-o’-lantern song,” Luka explains.
“We’re going to Doodle it,” Zoey adds proudly, her hand pushing in front of Luka’s, waiting ever-impatiently for the device. Savannah eagerly offers up the electronic rectangle, glad to be of assistance.
“It’s Google,” Luka proficiently corrects Zoey, shoving her pint-sized hand out of the way and snatching the phone.
“Now don’t fight over it,” Savannah schools them. “Luka, you show Zoey how to do it.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Luka reluctantly concedes, her brow furrowing. The two girls run away, Zoey trailing after Luka much like a hound dog on a hunt.
“Don’t break it!” Savannah yells after them.
Jac laughs. “You know that thing is going to come back malfunctioning, smeared in dirt and cider.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Savannah shakes her head, smiling at the two petite figures disappearing from their sight.
“It’s amazing, really. How different their lives will be. All the technology nowadays,” Jac reflects. “We didn’t even know what cell phones were growing up. Let alone Google.”
“I know,” Savannah agrees. “Remember when Daddy used to take us down to the arcade? Pac-Man and Asteroids,” she reminisces their limited, gargantuan electronic options.
Jac nods her head, a smile forming. “Every Sunday. Video games and football. Not a care in the world.” She scuffs her feet in the grass below her tire swing. “Why do you think he did it?” she asks, her vulnerable tone a rarity, fittingly reserved for the presence of her youngest sister.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question, Jac,” Savannah says of their father’s infidelity. “Maybe he needed a little excitement. Mama’s not necessarily one to throw caution to the wind. Live in the moment, you know.”
“Yeah,” Jac exhausts. “Maybe validation. She’s not exactly the easiest person in the world to please, either.” Both women are silent momentarily, feeling guilty for their candid thoughts. Knowing Buffy Bondurant represents everything a wife and mother should be, on paper anyway. A domestic goddess, a kind and caring person, it would appear as though she did everything right.
“Maybe in making sure everything was right, she sacrificed the natural progression of things. The pleasant surprises. The spontaneity of the moment. All the little things.” Savannah shrugs. “Daddy was excitable. Charismatic. Curious. Maybe being right all the time caused too much pressure, strained the relationship.” Shaking her head she continues, “Doesn’t excuse it. I’m just saying. I don’t know, Jac.”
“Sounds like what that one over there is going through.” Jac nods her head in Vangie’s direction. Vangie cleans up after Payton, scooping his plate out from under him before he’s even finished. ‘Would you just sit down, Vangie? Relax and enjoy yourself. That plate can wait,’ she reads Payton’s lips.
“How is it that there are some people in the world dying for that kind of affection and care, while others feel smothered by it and ultimately pull away?” Savannah asks.
“Is it care or control?” Jac meets Savannah’s question with one of her own, considering Buffy and Vangie’s meticulous discipline.
“Hmm? Guess I never thought of it that way.”
“It’s human nature, baby sister. To grab on to what you’ve got with a chokehold. Doesn’t work, though. Everyone needs their space. A little time…to respect and appreciate what they have.”
“Yeah,” Savannah exhausts, contemplating all of the times Jack made a competition out of her work and her affection for him. ‘You work too much. You never have time for me. You’re going to do really good, I know it. And I’ll just get left behind.’ All of those sentiments, each and every one wedging them further apart with resentment, now seemingly a self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I invited Noah,” Jac divulges.
Savannah pauses, tilting her head, her ears perking much like a canine. “To Mama’s party? Here?”
“Yeah. I think it will do them both good. To meet. They gotta clear the air, Savannah. Noah’s not going away. Maybe it will help Mama to process things…the truth…once and for all.”
“Oh boy.” Savannah picks up the pace of her swinging as nerve-inducing endorphins stir inside her body.
“You’re not going to run off on me, are you?” Jac smirks at Savannah, owning up to her bold move.
“Wouldn’t think of it, Sis.” Savannah chuckles apprehensively. “I’ll be right there beside you. Hell, I think it’s a grand idea. I just don’t think Mama’s going to share in our genius,” she quips sarcastically. “So you’ve been talking with him, too?”
“Of course. After I got over the initial shock. It’s not his fault. What Daddy and his mother did.”
“It’s kind of neat, huh? Having a brother. Not that it’s any better than having sisters,” Savannah quickly adds. “Just different. I try to imagine how our lives would have been otherwise, with him in it.”
“And his, too,” Jac empathizes. “I feel bad for him. Going his entire life without knowing us. Without knowing Daddy. I get the sense it kind of made him restless, you know. Never feeling like he really belonged.” Jac remains still in her tire swing. “Mama and Vangie better not make him feel like an outcast.”
“Maybe they just need some time.” Savannah thinks of how different she and Jac are from Vangie and their mother when it comes to accepting truth and the changes it requires.
“Well, I’d say time is slipping away from them. If he shows up.” Jac shrugs. “Maybe he won’t.”
“Surely they can’t be any more intimidating than a tour of duty,” Savannah references Noah’s status as a Marine. Both of them give in to a nervous chuckle as they watch Buffy, much like a demure drill sergeant, effectively lining up usually unruly neighborhood children for a hayride.
Luka runs toward them, returning Savannah’s phone. Her fearless confidant Zoey having aborted the mission for a much better assignment, sitting shotgun beside the hayride chauffeur. Her proud and horn-tooting arm waves victoriously in the air at her position, the navigator of the team of massive and fastidiously groomed Clydesdales who will be pulling the hay-filled and children-riddled wagon. Luka stops running as she nears them, her cute little face drawn and full of concern.
“What? What’s the matter, Luka?” Savannah jumps out of her tire, kneeling at her visibly disturbed side.
“Is ‘slut’ a bad word?” Luka blurts out.
“Well, it’s not exactly a nice word, honey,” Savannah says, her arm around Luka’s waist, wondering which foul-mouthed young one brought that very adult word to the party. “Where did you hear that?”
“I didn’t hear it. I read it. On your phone,” Luka answers, disappointed.
“My phone?” Savannah grabs it out of her hand, appalled. She shoves the rectangle into her back pocket, scolding herself for letting them run off with the unmonitored cesspool of information. “You know we don’t talk like that, right?” Luka nods her head with gusto, her bright eyes wide as they can be. “I’m sorry you saw that on my phone. We’ll just have to be more careful about what we Google. Deal?”