Over the Fence (32 page)

Coming back to Kourtney’s on Tuesday evening, alone, should have felt weird, but it didn’t. Knowing she’d be home in a few hours made me smile and being in her space made me feel happy. As promised, she had left me spaghetti to eat for supper, so after filling up on delicious pasta, I decided to spend a productive evening while waiting for her to get home.

I made a trip to Home Depot and bought her two chairs for her table outside, as well as an umbrella. They matched pretty well and I felt better seeing them there. I thought she needed the umbrella to protect her pale complexion from the sun. I knew she would like the flowery design. After setting it up, I stood back, satisfied with my work, hoping she would approve. I also brought over my Blu-ray player and hooked it up to her TV. I knew how much she enjoyed watching movies and her DVD player wasn’t working well. I held back on the sound system, at least for now. I carted over some beer to put in her fridge. Settling back on the sofa with a cold beer, I sighed in satisfaction. I liked it here. It felt right. Once Kourtney got home, it would be perfect. I leaned back, letting my eyes shut. It felt good having someone to wait for.

I woke up when Kourtney came home, tripping into the living room, all smiles, giggles, and hiccups as she observed me sitting on the sofa. “Hi, Tomcat.”

I grinned at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, indicating she was feeling no pain. “Were you and Annie drinking wine again, Kourtney?”

She nodded as she walked toward me, wobbling a little. “Jason had to come and drive us home.”

I held out my hand, glad Annie hadn’t attempted to drive. “Good.”

She kneeled down at my feet, smiling up at me. “Did you have a good night?”

I stroked her cheek, the skin warm under my fingers. “I did, but I missed you.”

She turned and kissed my hand, her lips lingering. “I missed you, too. Did you eat the dinner I left you?”

I chuckled at her need to look after me. “I did. Fucking awesome as usual, Chefgirl. I take it you had a good time? Lots of information sharing?”

She nodded enthusiastically and giggled, hiccupping again. “We did.” She leaned forward. “I told her you were my boyfriend. And you gave me my first orgasm.” She winked ludicrously at me. “And a few others since.”

My eyebrows shot up. Information sharing indeed.

She regarded me with a frown. “Was that okay?”

“You tell her anything you want, Kourtney.”

“She told me some stuff, too,” she spoke low, attempting to waggle her eyebrows and failing badly.

I sniggered at how adorable she was in her tipsy state. “I’m sure she did.”

“We talked about lots of good stuff.”

“Good stuff?”

“You know—good sex stuff. She knows things.”

I threw back my head in laughter. “She does, does she?”

Kourtney’s eyes were dancing with mischievousness as she gazed up at me. “Yep.” Her voice lowered. “Nathan?”

“Yeah, Chefgirl?”

“I want something.”

I couldn’t stop my grin. She could have anything she wanted. “Okay . . . what?”

Her hands ran up my legs, settling on my thighs as she leaned forward, her mouth seeking mine. I was only too happy to oblige. I cupped the back of her head, bringing her close and kissing her deep, tasting the wine she had been drinking. I tilted her head, deepening the kiss, groaning as our tongues slid together. The feeling of her warmth, and her quiet whimper, ignited the desire I felt whenever she was this close, filling me with need. I felt her hands tugging on the waistband of my lounge pants, and I raised my hips, allowing her to pull them off. She sat back on her heels; her hands stroking my thighs nervously while she gazed at me, and glanced down at my growing erection. “I want to . . . taste you.”

My breath caught in my throat in anticipation when I realized what she was saying.

“I’ve never done this.” Her cheeks were flushed, a nervous look replacing the impish one her eyes had held before.

“You don’t have to,” I assured her; even though the thought of her lips wrapped around me, caused my cock to twitch.

“I want to—if you want me to?” she asked shyly; sliding her hand up, to wrap around my now throbbing dick.

I groaned at the sensation. “Yes, baby,” I hissed. “Believe me, I want you to.”

My head hit the back of the sofa when I felt her tongue tentatively slide up the underside of my cock and around the head, swirling and gentle; the teasing feeling caused me to jerk in surprise.

“
Fuck
.”

She backed off, eyeing me warily, and I lifted my head. “No . . . don’t stop, baby. That felt so fucking good,” I encouraged.

She licked her lips, slowly engulfing me in the warmth of her mouth; sending flickers of heat along my spine. I couldn’t stop watching her as she explored me; her hands and mouth moving in tandem, quickly working me into a frenzy of hot, blistering need. Her nervousness seemed to dissipate as she locked eyes with me, the desire blazing at me leaving me breathless. She rose up, her hair falling forward, its silkiness brushing my knees. The shift in position sucked me deeper into her mouth, and I wound my fingers into her hair, restlessly caressing her skin.

“Kourtney,” I moaned, drowning in the sensations of her mouth’s increasingly firm sucking, the way her tongue swirled and lapped, and her hand stroked and caressed. I hissed as the intensity amplified, my hips lifting off the sofa, bucking upward, wanting to go deeper into the source of pleasure. All of my senses were on overload and I knew I wasn’t going to last. She was way too good at this and the pleasure was overwhelming. I could feel my orgasm burning through me, my body beginning to shake, my nerves tightening. I gasped her name loud, moving my hands from her hair and grasping onto the cushions tightly. “Kourtney . . . I can’t . . .
baby . . .
you
need
to stop—”

Her rhythm never faltered, and I came. Hard, throbbing and intense, my eyes shut, as I spilled down her throat, feeling it flex as she swallowed. My grip tightened on the cushions, and I felt the fabric give away under the strain while I shouted out her name. I collapsed back onto the sofa, gazing down at her in awe. She moved back, a satisfied little smirk ghosting on her lips as she beamed up at me.

“You’ve . . . never . . . done that . . . before?” I gasped out between pants.

“No.”

“Jesus.”

“Annie and I Googled it over dinner. And she gave me some pointers.”

“You G
oogled
it?”

She nodded, looking proud. “She has an iPhone, the same as yours. We used the ear buds so no one else heard.”

I laughed at the thought of the two of them, drinking and Googling porn in a restaurant to help give Kourtney some tips on the subject of blow jobs.

I groaned. “You’re a fast learner.”

She frowned. “Annie said when I had more practice, you’d come quicker. I’ll get better.”

I gaped at her in shock. “
Get better
?
Come quicker
? Fuck, Kourtney, if you get any better at it, you’re only going to have to
think
about giving me a blow job and I’ll come in my pants. Game over. That was fucking
incredible
.”

Her smug, proud smile said everything. I hauled her close, kissing her deep, groaning as I tasted myself on her tongue.

“You, my girl, are far too clever for your own good.” I paused, grinning. “But I like it.

“Anything else sexual you want to learn, I’m more than willing to be your guinea pig, okay? You can practice on me. Anything, anytime, Chefgirl—I’m your man.” I glanced down at her ruined sofa cushion. “Although I can’t guarantee the safety of your furniture. I owe you a new sofa.”

She shrugged. “I think I can fix it. And if not, it was so worth a new sofa.” She giggled, burying her red face into my chest. After briefly being the assertive one, my shy Kourtney was back, and I was okay with that. Chuckling, I tucked her beside me on the sofa and we sat quiet, while I stroked her head, both of us enjoying being back together.

When she yawned, long and wide, I cupped her cheek. “You ready to go to bed?”

She nodded up at me sleepily. “I don’t drink much.”

I laughed. “So you keep telling me . . . every time you’re rather tipsy.”

“It’s Annie. She’s a bad influence.”

“I rather like her influence.” I winked. “I encourage these information sharing dinners.”

She yawned again, and I stood up. “Come to bed, Kourtney.” I wrapped my arm around her as we walked down the hall. “You know, I know lots of good sex stuff, as well. And I’m always glad to share.” Leaning down, I nipped her ear. “You won’t even have to Google it. Only too happy to give you a hands-on demonstration—anytime.”

She grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, Tomcat.”

Another yawn escaped her mouth, and I brushed my lips over her forehead. “You go get ready. I’ll meet you there. I’m gonna make sure everything is locked up.”

Ten minutes later, I slipped in beside Kourtney, who was already half asleep, and I drew her into my arms. “Thank you,” she said quietly, glancing up at me.

“For what?”

“For being here, for making me feel so happy, and safe.”

“You are safe, Kourtney. I have you. And you make me just as happy.”

She snuggled closer and the room was quiet. As sleep claimed me, I heard a pleading whisper in the dark, so low I wasn’t sure it was real.

“I’ll always want you with me. Stay. Please.”

Wednesday night, we were sitting outside at the table, enjoying the evening, on the new chairs Kourtney loved. I was working on creating an account for her in Dropbox: my next planned learning experience for her with computers, when her message light lit up. Message after message came through, the beeps constant. Frowning at the name, I looked up.

“Kourtney?”

“Hmm?”

“Who is
Pistonman
?”

Her head snapped up; her face paled. “Andy.” She stared at me. “Is that what all the beeps are?”

“Yes.” My voice was strained. “Why does he have your IM address?”

“He set up the account for me when I was back at home.”

“He built it?” I frowned, not liking the sound of that information. “Did he pick your user name?”

She hesitated, glancing over at me and looking nervous.

“Tell me.”

“Yes. He always said I was the size of an Elephant and he thought it was funny.”

“So this is another one of his insults that keeps following you around.”

“I didn’t know how to change it,” she confessed.

I stared for a moment, then looked back to the screen. I hadn’t yet opened the window. I kept my voice calm, although inside I was furious. “What do you want me to do?”

There was only silence.

I scowled. “He shouldn’t be contacting you. Why didn’t you tell me he was on your friends’ list? I would have deleted him.”

“I forgot. He never contacts me.” She sounded upset. “Should I read them?”

“Are you interested in anything he has to tell you? Do you honestly think they’re going to be pleasant?” I could hear the impatience building in my tone.

“It could be about my dad.”

“Again, is that something you should care about?” I huffed, starting to feel the anger leaking out.

Kourtney’s hand reached over, and I pushed the laptop her way. I stood up, not wanting to watch her do this to herself.

Angry, I went inside and grabbed a beer. I stayed in the kitchen drinking it, unsure what to do. Why did she continue to allow them the access to reach her? On some level, she had to know they were going to continue to hurt her any way they could. Why was she letting them do this to her?

I paced the kitchen for a minute and glanced outside. Kourtney was still in the same position I had left her in, the laptop sitting on the table. Her hand was on it but she hadn’t turned it around. I could see her shoulders shaking and I knew she was already crying. My shoulders sagged in defeat. I couldn’t leave her out there alone or ignore her pain. Sighing, I set down the beer and went back outside. I dragged my chair over beside her and sat down, pulling her into my arms.

“Tell me what to do.” She sobbed into my chest. “Just tell me.”

I shook my head, my anger dissipating in the face of her pain. “I can’t, baby. You have to decide what you need to do. You’ve had enough decisions taken away from you.”

“You’re right.” She hiccupped. “I know you’re right. They’ll only be filled with hate. I don’t want to read them and he shouldn’t have sent them. Can you please delete them?”

I lifted her chin; my heart aching at the sight of her tear-stained face. “Kourtney, we should use them; show them to the police, and you need to get an order in place.”

“It will make him even angrier.”

I snorted. “He should have thought about that before he made such a stupid move. This is
completely
on him, not you.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “Let me save them and delete the account. I’ll make you a new one he has no access to, okay? One without another negative connotation attached to it.”

“I didn’t know how to change it,” she repeated.

“I know, Chefgirl. But I do. Don’t let him in. Don’t give him this chance. You need to cut them both out of your life.”