Her words are muffled, but I can still make them out. “I didn’t tell you about the weddings because I knew they weren’t going to last. Nothing ever did. You already hated me, and I didn’t want to give you any more reason to show you what a failure I was.”
Of its own volition, my hand raises and smooths her big hair down her back. “Oh, Mama. I don’t hate you.”
“Yes, you do. You should. I killed my own mama. I’m a horrible person. I deserve to go straight to hell for what I’ve done, and instead your husband sends me on vacation.”
Her body shakes harder with her sobs, and I can’t even comprehend what’s happening right now. But somehow, some way, the icy exterior I forged years ago around my heart to protect me from Mama’s repeated disappointments and harsh words starts to melt.
After Mama and I pulled ourselves together and drank our sweet tea, she got glammed up and headed to B&B. She tried to talk me into coming with her, but I really wasn’t in the mood to be on any kind of stage tonight, whether it’s the karaoke one or just generally being on display in public.
Besides, I needed some time to adjust to what the hell happened this afternoon, and the emotions are running raw in me. So for the past hour I’ve been pouring them into lyric after lyric, feeling like this song is being ripped from my soul and somehow mending it together at the same time.
It’s long since dark and closing in on seven when another knock comes at the door.
Who now? I seriously can’t handle any more surprises. I wait a few moments, and when the knock doesn’t come again, my tripped-up heart rate drops back to normal levels.
The roar of a diesel engine accelerating piques my curiosity, and I rise and cross to the door. Pushing the lace curtain aside a crack, I look out and see nothing. When I crane my head to one side, I catch the tail end of a brown truck driving away. UPS.
After unlocking the dead bolt, I pull the door open, and sure enough, a package the size of a shoebox is sitting on the purple porch.
I smile.
Crey. Is this what he was calling me about earlier?
I grab it and duck back inside before going for the kitchen knife and cutting it open. There’s a note stuck to the bubble wrap. My heart rate kicks up for a whole different reason this time.
He’s only been gone since yesterday, and I already miss him like crazy. I wish I was able to talk to him earlier, but my shock over Mama is pretty much off the charts.
I know I’m boots over brains in love with the man when just the sight of his handwriting makes me giddy.
Holly,
It’s called The Executive, and you better damn sure be screaming this executive’s name when you come.
—Crey
What in the world?
I set the note aside and unwrap the package. It’s a vibrator. A shiny silver vibrator. It’s shaped strangely, but from what I know of vibrators, which admittedly isn’t all that much, it’s got the G-spot and clit action going on. My lady parts sit up and take notice just from my looking at it.
After the crazy-emotional afternoon and evening, a nice hot bath with a big glass or two of wine is just what I need to unwind . . . followed by a test drive of my new toy.
I’m in the middle of an episode of Country Dreams when my cell buzzes across my desk. I slap at it with my left hand, annoyed that someone is interrupting while I’m watching Holly belt out a song called “Independence Day,” and unwilling to take my eyes off my laptop.
I grab the phone, fully intending to hit IGNORE, but when my eyes cut down to the screen, I see Holly’s name. I hit PAUSE on my laptop, and answer immediately.
“Holly.”
She breathes heavily into the phone for a beat before saying, “Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m about to be a hell of a lot better than just okay. But your note said you wanted to hear me scream your name, Mr. Executive, so here I am, following orders.”
Fuuuuck. My dick jumps in my pants. I totally forgot about the vibrator, completely and totally forgot about it. I’m not even sure how that’s possible, but apparently it is.
All my concerns about today fall away at nothing more than the thought of her pleasure.
“Are you telling me that right now, you’ve got that vibrator buried in your sweet pussy?”
“And a plug up my ass.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Holly,” I say on a groan. “You haven’t made yourself come yet?”
“No. I wanted you to hear me.”
“Good girl.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, hit the button for speaker, and lay it on the desk. Then I reach for my belt and undo it, purposely letting the buckle clink together.
“Are you—?”
“I’m getting my cock out so I can jack myself off to the sound of you coming. I miss you, Holly. Miss your hot little cunt, your tight little ass, and those perfect fucking tits.”
“Holy crap. I think I almost came just hearing you say that.” Her voice shakes over the phone.
I smile. “Good.”
As soon as I’ve got my hand wrapped around my cock, I realize I’m woefully unprepared, so I head to the bathroom, snag some lube, and make my way into the master suite, all the while telling Holly the dirty things I’d do to her if I were there.
“Because you liked having my cock in your ass, didn’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure I came until I almost blacked out, didn’t I?”
“You’re fucking perfect, woman,” I say as I strip, settle myself on the bed, and lube up. “Now we’re going to see how good you are at getting yourself off.”