Wicked White
Page 36
I nod and give her a small smile. “I’m fine, just a little sad, I guess.”
“I understand. At first, being at home without Gran, it was rough. In a weird way, throwing myself into going through her things made me feel closer to her. It reminded me of all the good times I shared with her. It’s going to be hard when you first go in there, but I’m here for you, and I promise, it’ll be okay.”
I lean over and cup her face, bringing it to mine so I can kiss her lips. We both shut our eyes, trusting in one another, knowing we’re here for each other even when it seems that we are lone souls in this world. It’s nice to not feel so alone anymore.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I tell her.
She blushes. “I think you’re pretty great too.”
After a few more stolen kisses, I take a deep breath. “I think it’s time we go inside before I end up taking you right here in the car. I’m sure the neighbors would enjoy the show, but, well, you know how I feel about sharing you.”
Iris laughs and my heart warms. Her laughter is one of the best sounds in the world and is quickly becoming one of my favorite things.
“We better go then.” She gives me a wry grin.
We walk hand in hand up the sidewalk. I fish out the keys, and when we step up onto the small concrete porch, I unlock the door.
Even though Sarah was only my foster mother, she treated me like I was her real flesh and blood. When I turned eighteen and she no longer got paid to keep me, she never once made a move to kick me out. Instead, she encouraged me to stay and go on to college once I graduated high school. Even when I did leave to attend Ohio State, she kept my bedroom exactly the same, like a real mother would do for her son. That’s how I knew she really loved me. I mean, I thought she did prior to that because she showed it in every one of her actions toward me, but that proved it. Before her, I’d never lived with someone who wasn’t always anxious to get rid of me.
I flip the lights on when we enter the small living room. Sarah always kept the curtains drawn shut, said the light affected the television and irritated her when she tried to watch her daytime soaps.
The rest of the house is just as she left it: magazines on the coffee table, her nearly empty coffee mug from what I’m sure was her fifth cup that day, and of course her small library filled with classic books next to her television.
Iris steps in and immediately focuses her attention on the small bookcase near the front door that houses all of Mom’s favorite photos. “Is this you?”
I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. My eyes zero in on the picture of me in junior high with slicked-back hair she’s pointing to. “Yep, that’s me.”
She laughs. “Are you wearing a tuxedo in your school picture?”
I laugh as I recall the day clearly. “Yes. I was an usher in Mom’s cousin’s wedding and I fell in love with the tux. I was nearly fourteen and had never worn anything so fancy and didn’t want to take it off, so Mom paid a couple extra days rental so I could have my school picture taken in it the following Monday after the wedding.”
She leans back into me and I burrow my nose into her hair and inhale her scent again. That’s becoming one of my most favorite scents.
“You were too cute,” she says and then twists so she can gaze up at me. “Will you show me your room?”
I nod and pull on her hand to follow me. The old stairs creak under our feet as we climb to the second level. When we reach the top, I pull her down the hall to my old bedroom. Before I take her in, I yank her against me and back her into the closed door and crush my lips to hers, causing her to groan.
I pull back to gaze upon her face, trying to halt myself from becoming too excited.
She’s grinning. “Are you always so anxious when you bring girls to your bedroom?”
I lean my forehead against hers. “I’ve never brought a girl here before. I just wanted to kiss you one last time before you go in and see my room.”
She cocks her head. “Why?”
This time it’s me who blushes. “I’m afraid when you go in there you might question my manliness.”
She laughs and shimmies her hips against mine, and her grin widens as she feels my semierect cock pushing against her through my jeans. “Trust me. You’re plenty man enough.” Iris pauses for a beat and finds the knob behind her and twists. “Let’s see what you’re so afraid of me seeing.”
Without another word she flings open the door and steps through its threshold backward. I hold my breath as she spins on her heel and takes in the sight of my sanctuary.
“Wow . . .” she says with a breathy voice. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a Shakespeare addict.”
I lean against the doorjamb as she wanders into my room to inspect things more closely. All of my walls are exactly as I left them, covered in posters for plays William Shakespeare wrote. The nightstand beside my bed is still stacked with a pile of books, most of which matched Mom’s collection downstairs. I think she bought me copies because she got tired of me borrowing hers all the time.
My eyes follow Iris as she stops at what I like to call my reward wall. Mom was so proud of me every time I got recognition of some kind. It was hard to talk her out of displaying them all and persuade her to put up only the most important ones, like my high school diploma, along with my valedictorian letter and my bachelor’s degree from Ohio State.
“I understand. At first, being at home without Gran, it was rough. In a weird way, throwing myself into going through her things made me feel closer to her. It reminded me of all the good times I shared with her. It’s going to be hard when you first go in there, but I’m here for you, and I promise, it’ll be okay.”
I lean over and cup her face, bringing it to mine so I can kiss her lips. We both shut our eyes, trusting in one another, knowing we’re here for each other even when it seems that we are lone souls in this world. It’s nice to not feel so alone anymore.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I tell her.
She blushes. “I think you’re pretty great too.”
After a few more stolen kisses, I take a deep breath. “I think it’s time we go inside before I end up taking you right here in the car. I’m sure the neighbors would enjoy the show, but, well, you know how I feel about sharing you.”
Iris laughs and my heart warms. Her laughter is one of the best sounds in the world and is quickly becoming one of my favorite things.
“We better go then.” She gives me a wry grin.
We walk hand in hand up the sidewalk. I fish out the keys, and when we step up onto the small concrete porch, I unlock the door.
Even though Sarah was only my foster mother, she treated me like I was her real flesh and blood. When I turned eighteen and she no longer got paid to keep me, she never once made a move to kick me out. Instead, she encouraged me to stay and go on to college once I graduated high school. Even when I did leave to attend Ohio State, she kept my bedroom exactly the same, like a real mother would do for her son. That’s how I knew she really loved me. I mean, I thought she did prior to that because she showed it in every one of her actions toward me, but that proved it. Before her, I’d never lived with someone who wasn’t always anxious to get rid of me.
I flip the lights on when we enter the small living room. Sarah always kept the curtains drawn shut, said the light affected the television and irritated her when she tried to watch her daytime soaps.
The rest of the house is just as she left it: magazines on the coffee table, her nearly empty coffee mug from what I’m sure was her fifth cup that day, and of course her small library filled with classic books next to her television.
Iris steps in and immediately focuses her attention on the small bookcase near the front door that houses all of Mom’s favorite photos. “Is this you?”
I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. My eyes zero in on the picture of me in junior high with slicked-back hair she’s pointing to. “Yep, that’s me.”
She laughs. “Are you wearing a tuxedo in your school picture?”
I laugh as I recall the day clearly. “Yes. I was an usher in Mom’s cousin’s wedding and I fell in love with the tux. I was nearly fourteen and had never worn anything so fancy and didn’t want to take it off, so Mom paid a couple extra days rental so I could have my school picture taken in it the following Monday after the wedding.”
She leans back into me and I burrow my nose into her hair and inhale her scent again. That’s becoming one of my most favorite scents.
“You were too cute,” she says and then twists so she can gaze up at me. “Will you show me your room?”
I nod and pull on her hand to follow me. The old stairs creak under our feet as we climb to the second level. When we reach the top, I pull her down the hall to my old bedroom. Before I take her in, I yank her against me and back her into the closed door and crush my lips to hers, causing her to groan.
I pull back to gaze upon her face, trying to halt myself from becoming too excited.
She’s grinning. “Are you always so anxious when you bring girls to your bedroom?”
I lean my forehead against hers. “I’ve never brought a girl here before. I just wanted to kiss you one last time before you go in and see my room.”
She cocks her head. “Why?”
This time it’s me who blushes. “I’m afraid when you go in there you might question my manliness.”
She laughs and shimmies her hips against mine, and her grin widens as she feels my semierect cock pushing against her through my jeans. “Trust me. You’re plenty man enough.” Iris pauses for a beat and finds the knob behind her and twists. “Let’s see what you’re so afraid of me seeing.”
Without another word she flings open the door and steps through its threshold backward. I hold my breath as she spins on her heel and takes in the sight of my sanctuary.
“Wow . . .” she says with a breathy voice. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a Shakespeare addict.”
I lean against the doorjamb as she wanders into my room to inspect things more closely. All of my walls are exactly as I left them, covered in posters for plays William Shakespeare wrote. The nightstand beside my bed is still stacked with a pile of books, most of which matched Mom’s collection downstairs. I think she bought me copies because she got tired of me borrowing hers all the time.
My eyes follow Iris as she stops at what I like to call my reward wall. Mom was so proud of me every time I got recognition of some kind. It was hard to talk her out of displaying them all and persuade her to put up only the most important ones, like my high school diploma, along with my valedictorian letter and my bachelor’s degree from Ohio State.
