that-struggling-writer-lh

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

i fear i need him biblically

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

crazy how fanfic authors drop the most beautiful and gorgeous pieces of work ever, leaving you speechless and sobbing at three in the morning as you quietly contemplate the masterpiece you just read

and they don’t get paid for it they just do it because they’re having fun and they want to share their joy with you

like I would literally die for all of you fanfic authors out there reblog to swear your allegiance to fanfic authors

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower For Every Secret Ch 5. Carnation -

No proofreading, this was a monster chapter to write, and a lot of filler for the next. Busy with a lot of stuff this week. OC is sort of a self insert here?

WARNINGS : MINORS DNI. mentions of intimate partner violence, brief joke about pew pews, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 5652

“Who was that guy you brought to Colleen’s wedding? Word around the office was that you were single, Carillo said he thought so, anyway. Said you weren’t sure if you’d even go without a date.” The question came from a well-known office busybody, Kelly, as she blew a big pink bubble with the gum in her mouth. I made a mental note to stop telling Carrillo, and anyone else for that matter, about my personal affairs on their stops to my desk on his way in and out of the building. 

I felt the blush creep up regardless of trying to stay busy at my computer. Sunday, Joel and I had “coincidentally” bumped into each other grabbing our papers at the same time, it was hard to sleep at all with the lingering feelings of him on my brain and on my body. He had smiled warmly at me and we met each other at the mouth of each of our respective driveways, just friendly neighbors having a chat, thanking the other for the invitation to a colleagues wedding. Polite small-talk about the weather, the upcoming holiday, Sarah and her friends, who had spent everyday together by their pool, how I’m welcome over anytime. 

“Joel is my neighbor.” I attempted to deadpan, clicking at the keys while reading written reports. Data transfer from the field gave me at least something to occupy my brain other than Joel.

She giggled and leaned over the glass separator, “He’s not like any of my neighbors. He’s handsome, huh?” 

I let my fingers stall on my task and flicked my eyes up to her, “Well, he’s my neighbor. Lives across the street with his kid.” the mine, definitely holding a double-meaning.

She hummed in response, a curt, small noise, “Single dad, huh? Not my first choice, personally.” her gum snapped against her teeth.

“Kelly.” I started, signing out her name in exasperation, leaving a pause in the air, raising my eyebrows at her, “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

She shrugged and chewed her gum loudly, “Just makin’ girl talk.”

I pursed my lips and closed the divider, effectively ending the conversation.

I heard her voice, muffled behind the thick glass, “It’s new, huh?” she was still smirking.

“Go away, Kelly.” I couldn’t hide the grin that spread slowly across my face, and she knew she won as she turned on her heels, clicking with every confident step she took.

I smoothed my pencil skirt and tucked my hair behind my ear before exhaling slowly and continuing on with my work. Reports weren’t going to file themselves.

The fourth of July, as Carol had told me from her garden beds in front of her house, always made the cul-de-sac pretty much packed from dawn well through the night. In the big turn-around at the end of the street, tables would be filled with food, drinks, desserts, ending with fireworks after the stars came out. With the holiday landing on Sunday this year, the only lull in the neighborhood would get would be when families disappeared for church early in the morning. 

I spent all of Saturday baking dozens of cupcakes to bring to the turnaround, and decorating them simply with swirls of red, white and blue, topped with sprinkles in matching shades. The Texas heat made it impossible to be comfortable with the oven stuck at 320 degrees all day, even with the roaring sun it was cooler outside than in, chugging sweet iced tea in the shade of my small back porch was the only thing keeping me cool.

I kept my attire casual, a half up ponytail tied with a red bow, white shorts and a navy blue tank top. I surely did not want to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the patriotic neighbors. Joel had made no attempt to actually speak with me beyond small talk all week, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Though, in his defense, his truck would be gone before I left and after I returned from work most days. I’d been blaming it on him owning his own business. Trying not to pine after him pathetically.

I made the first trip down the street to deliver 2 dozen cupcakes to the party, happily exchanging pleasantries with a few neighbors before excusing myself to retrieve the rest when Sarah and her friend, Anna, nearly knocked me down while rushing by on bicycles. Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me apologetically, “Sorry, we’ll pay more attention next time.”  she sucked in her breath.

“You’re okay, Sarah.” I waved the action off dismissively, “just be careful, I know there’s no car traffic tonight but there’s a lot of little kiddos around and older folk. You can’t be zipping through the crowd like that.”

“You’re right.” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “you sound like Dad, though.”

My heart lurched at the mention, “hey, where is your old man anyway?”

“Going to the store with Uncle Tommy.” She explained before Anna announced she was ready to go raid the appetizer table.

I made the second trip without so much as a howdy from anyone.

Walking back up the street the final time, I spied Tommy’s truck parked right next to Joel’s in his driveway, the brothers laughing together as they exited the house, Tommy’s arms full of paper bags nearly overflowing with food and drinks.

I tried to not notice how nice Joel looked in his ball cap and casual navy blue shirt. I just looked down at the pavement, folding my arms and walking up the driveway.

“Hold on, Tommy.” I heard his familiar drawl as I ascended the steps, “Hey, Sweetheart. Been meaning to catch you,” with the prying eyes of the neighborhood tucked away down the street, he had no problem gently taking my elbow in his hand to turn me towards him.

I furrowed my brows, “Oh, haven’t noticed.”

He scoffed a little, looking up the street to the busy party, the sun still about two hours from making its descent, “You free?”

“Just bringing cupcakes down to the party.”

“Okay.” his eyes flicked over my face, brows furrowed in concern as I popped the door open, entering the house, leaving the door open as an invitation for him to follow.

He tracked me through the living room and into the kitchen, where I handed him three clamshell cases of cupcakes and he stacked them up in his arms, “Make yourself useful, Miller.” I stated plainly, still having not looked at him properly.

“Hey… Sweetheart?” He seemed to chew on his question thoughtfully, not sure if he should speak or not.

I hummed in response, not trying to play cold, but trying not to seem like I’d been waiting on him all week.

“I’m real sorry I haven’t really reached out after… I’m not trying to… What do they call it these days… Ghost you.”

I snapped my eyes to his, waiting for him to finish, when he didn’t I shrugged, “I’m not obligated to your time, Joel. You have Sarah, your work. I was busy with work anyway. Had a lot of paperwork to do this week. You know, with the holiday. Wanted to make sure I had nothing they could call me into the station for.”

He nodded, sticking his tongue into his cheek, “I understand.”

“I suppose it’s partially my fault.” I rolled my shoulders back, straightening my posture, “We haven’t really swapped contact information, you know. Aside from the fact we could probably see into each other’s houses if we try hard enough.” 

He stifled a chuckle, “Sure. My fault, too. You’re so close after Sarah’s asleep I could just.. Throw a stone over and hit your door. I just-well.” he sighed, I waited, my worried brow relaxing, “-It’s been a real long time since I’ve… Tried to get out there. In any real sense of that phrase. I mean, I’m no prude, but-”

I nodded in understanding, “I figured. When we first had that big conversation over dinner at my place. I could tell that… For you, Sarah holds all of the stars in her eyes. You’re a father first. Nobody else can matter like that.”

His eyes softened and he adjusted his weight on his feet, “Thank you.” 

“We can take things slow, Joel. I won’t push. I don’t plan on pulling away, unless you want me to.”

I waited a few moments too long for his response, when none came I started toward the front door again, he hadn’t moved his feet from the spot in front of the fridge, “I meant it. Last week, when I said I would like you to come by again. Not have to rush like that. Maybe dinner with just me and Sarah.”

I turned toward him, his face had warmed with a pink flush, “For you? I’m free anytime after five, and weekends obviously.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath and nodded, following me out of the house.

Joel and I walked down the street together this time, while he relayed a story about Tommy and his trip to the tiny market a few blocks away, how Tommy was almost denied being sold beer due to his expired license and a new cashier who had never met the pair who frequented the shop, how Joel had to swoop in and vouch, showing him the matching surname on his ID. 

I giggled at his dramatic retelling as the noise of the neighborhood grew louder, until we joined the cliques of our little slice of the planet and Sarah found Joel, latching onto his waistline with her scrawny arms, begging him to let Anna sleepover just one more time this week, pretty, pretty please!.

He, of course, can never tell his sweet daughter no. So long as she sat and had dinner with the family, he turned to me after with a soft gaze and asked quietly, “Will you join us, too?”

I responded with a nod, trying to suppress the way my heart lurched at the offer, with all of the prying eyes of neighbors. It was another small step to be in public together. 

Tommy and Maria were loading their paper plates with burgers and side dishes, Joel seamlessly falling into step behind, grabbing a plate for me as well, telling me to fill up on anything I wanted.

I accepted the offer gratefully and did the same as the others, anything that looked good landed a spot on my quickly piling plate, “Make sure you grab some of those cupcakes at the dessert table, she worked real hard on those, I’m sure.” he nudged my side with his elbow.

Maria had laid a blanket out on the grass, staking our claim to a patch of grass past the border of the sidewalk, in perfect view of where the firework display would be later.

I smiled shyly as we all settled onto the blanket, and Maria and I exchanged pleasantries. Sarah talked about how her summer break was going, how in five weeks she couldn’t believe she’d be forced back into a classroom. “Good, keep your brains from rotting out of your head.” Tommy said through a mouthful of food, “You crazy kids are always running around the neighborhood. About time you get back to routine.”

Joel nodded in agreement, “You can’t be a doctor without a good education, Sare-Bear.”

Sarah groaned as she stabbed some pasta salad onto a fork, “I don’t wanna be a doctor, Dad. That was so two years ago.”

“Well excuse me.” he drawled.

“You’re bright enough you can be anything you want, Baby.” Maria pointed her fork at the pre-teen girl that sat criss-cross at the edge of the blanket.

I nodded as well, but didn’t feel it was my place to add anything in. Sarah went on about her plans with Anna for the night, crafting new bracelets and watching a new movie her friend had picked up to rent earlier in the day.

After the meal, Joel and Tommy went to go search for more beer in the garage, leaving me with just Maria as Sarah quickly lent herself back to her group of friends.

Maria looked at me with a curious expression after we were left on our own, “How are things?” she glanced behind her shoulder at Joel’s form slowly shrinking around the crowd of neighbors, then back at me.

“I think okay.” I shrugged, “Slow moving, but that’s not a bad thing. Still just getting to know each other, I think.”

“He has a lot on his plate.” she nodded, “Always has.”

I nodded in understanding, sipping from a bottle of water, “It seems that way, he told me about how the whole… Dating thing just hasn’t really worked. Always busy with Sarah and work.”

She gave me a tight mouthed smile, “You’re not worried?”

“About?”

“How if things don’t work you own the house across from him? Might be awkward.”

I shook my head, “No.”

She let out a soft hum and I began picking at a hangnail I only just noticed on my thumb, “Would be hard for Sarah.”

It took a lot of strength not to roll my eyes, “All anyone ever talks about is Sarah… I know she’s his universe but… what about Joel? When does Joel get a say? When does Joel get to be happy? When does Joel get to relax, have fun? Sarah is a sweet, smart girl. You know that, everybody can see it.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but it was impossible to keep the edge at bay, “Joel is kind. Hardworking, seems by all accounts I’ve witnessed honest, not to mention good looking. Sarah is first to everybody. We aren’t talking about marriage or anything, but Joel can be a priority just as much as Sarah can.”

Maria ticked her jaw to the side, “Tommy just  said he’s been talking about you to him while on job sites, and I… I just worry-”

“Rightfully so. He and Sarah are lucky to have people who worry about him, but Sarah is also old enough to know the basics of how… things work in the adult world, I’m sure. I’m sure there’s been times she wanted a female influence that wasn’t her aunt, or her friends’ mothers. He and I are still… working things out, haven’t even been on a real date yet, unless you count the wedding. There’s no pressure here, but I do like him.” 

She considered my words but didn’t respond, just looked to the side of us as Tommy and Joel’s cackling laughter could be heard, I turned to their direction with a smirk, watching Joel slap Tommy on the back, they had twin goofy grins on their faces and beers in their hands. 

“Hey, Doll.” Joel greeted as he returned to his spot next to me, resting his hand on my thigh now that Sarah had gone off with her friends again.

“Hey, Joel.” I feigned a smile and turned my attention back to him.

With the brothers back, conversation flowed more organically, and Tommy and Maria both took the opportunity to get to know more about me. The small details about the town I had come from in New England, that Texas was a perfect reprieve from harsh winters and slow seasons. That I didn’t really have any family, and therefore nothing to lose with moving halfway across the country. I liked my quiet time, my books, baking, and a simple life.

Eventually Tommy and Maria were pulled off by a small group of their friends who had joined in, friends of friends of neighbors. It seemed the more drinks that flowed the more people showed up for the display.

Joel and I held down the fort - being Maria’s picnic blanket. Laying on our backs in an otherwise mostly unpopulated stretch of grass. The volume of the music had started increasing, as did the volume of everyone else's conversations. 

“I’d like to take you out.” Joel interrupted a stretch of comfortable silence.

“Like, on a date or with a gun?” I joked.

He turned to face me with furrowed brows and a wicked smirk, “You think you’re real funny, huh? Course on a date.” he shook his head.

“Well,” I laughed, rolling onto my stomach to get closer to him, propping up my chin with my palm, “Just wanted to clarify, Miller.”

“Of course a date. A real date. Not a wedding, not dinner at each other’s house. You ‘n me. Restaurant or something. Figure out something else, too.”

I smiled and nodded in response, reaching over him to grab a neatly folded napkin leftover from dinner, “You have a pen?” 

“I’m a contractor.” he smirked, digging into his front pocket, pulling out a pencil, pen and permanent marker.

“You just carry those around? All the time?”

He shrugged, “Would it turn you on if I said yes?”

I laughed and playfully pushed him back over before grabbing the pen from him and carefully writing my number on the flimsy paper, “Here you go.” I handed him the napkin and he studied it with a smirk.

“Not a fake one, I hope?”

“You know where to find me if it is, don’t you?”

He looked up to the sky, now seeming to burn with soft shades of pink and orange, “I suppose I do.”

I had figured we’d been in the clear, having avoided nosy Carol until this point, but a shadow soon obstructed the warmth the remains of the sun offered, “Hey, kids!” she announced herself.

Joel and I looked up in unison, “Hey Mrs. Johnson.” he greeted her for the both of us, “Enjoying the holiday?”

She nodded in answer, “Looks like you are, too.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” I smiled at our neighbor, “Nice to get everybody together. I meant to tell you, your carnations are looking gorgeous.”

She gave a genuine smile before answering, “Almost time to cut them down for bouquets. They’ll make someone happy, I’m sure, and make room in my garden for something else. Sweetheart, there’s some drinks over there, Greg set up a sort of bar with one of the tables. Makes a mean margarita.”

“Thank you, Carol.” I answered, “I might take you up on that offer, actually. Care to join me, Miller?” I stood and reached my hand down to help him up.

He grabbed my hand and stood with a groan, as we approached the table a dozen or so neighbors perched at, all giggling with drinks in their hands, Joel greeted Greg with a firm handshake, without even a hello, Greg started as if Joel had been in conversation the entire time, “Oh, Buddy, that work you did in my bathroom has held up beautifully. No issues still. Felt like I was constantly having to have things worked on in there.”

“Well, because I did it right, Greg.” Greg was probably twenty or thirty years our senior, with kind eyes, sparse hair and an affinity for parties from what I’d heard. Like many of my neighbors, so far, I’d only briefly met him in passing. I knew faces and names, but nothing of substance.

He poured into a shot glass and handed me the small cup of clear liquid, without so much of a greeting, “Here, Dollface, this is for you.” 

“Thank you.” I nodded and let the feeling of straight vodka burn my throat. I shivered at the taste, immediately reminded of my too crazy freshman year of college.

“How are you liking the neighborhood now that you’re all settled?” Greg’s wife, Lisa asked from over the rim of a nearly empty cup.

“I love it, everyone has been so nice.” I smiled at the faces around the table.

“Good, not often we get new faces over on this end, especially young ones. All the young people are moving out, further into the city or leaving Texas entirely.”

A man hummed in response, nodding almost solemnly.

“I like it, it’s quiet. Working in the city is enough for me, I like to be able to separate at the end of the day.”

“What do you do, again?”

“She works for the police department. Front desk.” Joel answered for me, and his ears turned a shade pink, he covered it up by taking a long drink from his beer.

Greg smirked at Joel and gave me another pour, “Good benefits in a job like that, but stressful with all the crap that goes on in Austin, I bet.”

I nodded, though I kept my eyes on Joel, and he kept his trained on me, “It’s tough sometimes, but it stays pretty quiet aside from officers and agents and lawyers running in and out. I do a lot of paperwork, computer stuff, and sometimes direct calls if someone doesn’t know which department to call.”

Greg nodded before passing the glass back to me, and I didn’t flinch this time as I welcomed the burn of alcohol, setting the glass back on the table, “Carol tells me you make a mean margarita?”

I was happily tipsy by the time the sun went down, with jokes, innuendos, neighborhood gossip and stories fresh in my mind, Joel and I returned, giggling back to the abandoned blanket. Joel checked a note scrawled on a napkin, “Tommy had something going on in his neighborhood they forgot about, they left.” he explained with a lazy smirk on his face as he laid down on the blanket, now cold from the night air.

I hummed, “and Sarah?”

“I saw her on our way over here, she’s with Anna’s folks, the girls had some sort of handheld gaming thing they were playing on.” I laid down next to him and dared to lay my head into the crook of his arm, snuggling in close in what little privacy the moon and stars offered, he took a slow breath in and let his arm sink down across my back, he started rubbing slow, soothing patterns over my shirt.

Conversation around us settled into excited, quiet chatter about the display that was to be expected, how many people contributed to the display, and how long it would last. I listened intently to the noise around me, along with the even breathing from Joel’s chest, “You can learn a lot about our neighbors from just sitting back and listening, huh?”

He nodded, his chin pressed to the top of my head, “We’re a simple folk around here.”

I hummed quietly and turned my gaze up to him. No matter what lighting, no matter what setting, Joel always seemed so effortlessly good looking. It was almost unfair how even with just the moon, his eyes shone, how angular he was in just the right spots. 

He turned to face me and smirked, “You staring at me?”

My face felt heated and I looked away, “Sorry.”

He let out a noise that may have been a chuckle, but took his free hand, tilting my face back up to his, his thumb tracing a soft line over my cheek, jaw, neck. “You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, a slight rasp to his voice.

“Joel-” I started, but couldn’t finish my thought as he hushed me with a kiss, just as the first shriek of fireworks sang from the ground up, pop, pop, pop.

I pulled away to see the bright glow shimmer in his caramel eyes, before it dissipated and was replaced with another pop, pop, and fantastic red coated us in the cool of the night, “What?” he asked, still just inches from each other.

I shook my head and leaned back in, bathed in blues, greens, whites, every color imaginable while our neighbors wow’ed and awe’d at the display in the sky. I’d never cared much for firework shows. But with Joel’s hands on my back and his lips skimming across my face and neck, it really gave a new meaning to the way kissing someone can be described as fireworks in your chest. Everything with Joel had felt electric from the first time I saw him. His first polite Howdy, Ma’am, I’m Joel. Joel Miller.. 

I relished in the feeling of his teeth on my jaw, it was over all too soon as we both remembered where we were. Who was potentially watching. I was sure if Sarah was going to hear about her father kissing anyone, she’d want to hear it from him, not some neighborhood kid out to embarrass her.

We maintained our separate spaces until the end of the display. Each bang, pop, and hsss, and every swath of color filled me to the brim with happiness. I didn’t want to move from our spot. 

Joel walked back with me, with Sarah and Anna in tow, the girls giggling about something funny another friend had done, groaning about how a boy chased them with a worm. Joel smirked at me, rolling his eyes, “Kids.”

I returned his smile as Sarah and Anna ascended the front porch without even checking for Joel, closing the door behind them.

“Thank you for today.” I looked up at his towering figure.

He shrugged, like it was no big deal, “Of course. This is the first year that Sarah sort of… Took care of herself for the day-if that’s the right way to put it. It was nice to focus on someone other than her. Has been nice, I guess.”

“Well, I gotta head home. I’m expecting a call tonight.”

“Oh? From who?” he quirked an eyebrow up.

“Oh, you know. Nobody too special. Just some guy with thick curly hair, big brown puppy eyes. Someone who I’m sure will be busy with two rambunctious kids way too hyped up on sugar.”

He chuckled and leaned down to press his lips to mine briefly, hand pressed to my cheek, “Sounds like an important call, you might want to go head in and wait for it. Shouldn’t be long before those kids crash down from all that sugar.”

I smiled and chased his lips as he pulled away, and he granted me another kiss, deeper this time, grunting against my mouth, “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“What can I say? He knows his kid.”

He ran his hand from my jawline down all the way down to my waist, pulling me flush against him and kissing me a final time before releasing me. He was silent in the middle of the street as I walked up the driveway and the steps to my front door, “Hey, Sweetheart?”

I turned back to face him, “Hey, Miller.”

“You looked real pretty today. You.. look pretty every day.”

I couldn’t help the blush that crept up, and tried to stifle it by pinning my lower lip between my teeth, “Not so bad yourself, Cowboy.”

He huffed a laugh and turned on his heel, walking up the path to his house, the main lights all glowing out into his yard, “Alright, girls. Snack, teeth, bed. It’s way too late.” I heard him half-shout over rambunctious laughter from the main room as his door opened and shut, sealing them all inside.

I smirked to myself before turning in myself; washing my face in the single basin sink, taking my hair down, brushing out the grass and knots acquired from laying out in the sun most of the day, stripping down and slipping into loose sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that the years hadn’t been kind to. Just as soon as I flicked off the lights and retreated to my bedroom, the phone rang from it’s cradle in the kitchen. I’d never jumped up to reach a phone so fast. The clock read it was after ten now.

“Hello?” I smirked against the phone, cradling the hard plastic between my cheek and shoulder as I stood in the dark room.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a sweet little doll I know, would it? Long hair, sorta short in stature. Killer ass.”

I laughed into the phone at Joel’s familiar drawl, “You are pushing your luck, Joel Miller.”

He answered with a deep chuckle, and I heard a rustling sound from his end of the line, “Pushing my luck, might be my middle name. Glad to know it wasn’t a fake number, after all.”

I hummed in answer, bringing the cordless phone down the hall to my bedroom, settling between the comforter and sheets, flicking the lamp on, “Like I said, you know where to find me if it was.”

“Tempting regardless if it was fake or not.”

I bit down on my lip and nestled down into the blankets further, cocooning myself in the soft, warm blends of fabric, “If only you hadn’t agreed to let Sarah have a friend over, maybe next time you can convince Anna’s folks to keep Sarah.”

“Tried, Sarah misses my Sunday breakfasts when she’s gone.” he chuckled into the phone.

“Joel Miller the chef, who knew?”

“I don’t just build houses, Sweetheart, I can build a mean plate of breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon-”

“-Sausage?” I added a flirty lilt to my tone.

There was a shuffling noise again, I could picture his dimples as I heard the smile in his honey-like voice. Syrupy sweet. “For you, pretty girl, anything you want.” he took a deep breath before adding, “You in bed right now?”

“What if I am?”

A soft hum, “Makes two of us,” another deep inhale, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last week.”

I swallowed my smirk, taking a moment to calm the way my heart fluttered, “Me, too.”

“Been a long time since I’ve had a hard time staying away from someone.”

“I know the feeling, trust me.” I hesitated, “How long for you?”

He scoffed, “Trying to embarrass me? Like I said before, I’m no prude. There’s been times,” he seemed to hesitate, “I saw someone seriously about five years ago. Moved in and everything.”

“Wow, what happened?”

“Didn’t wanna play stepmomma. Or whatever, was some lame excuse. Didn’t feel like a real family to her, so I told her to forget it. Single dads aren’t for everyone.”

I tsked quietly, “Must have been hard.”

“Especially for Sarah.” he sighed, “She liked her until Ronnie-Veronica, moved in. They got on well with limited time, but they started stepping on each other’s toes really fast.”

I sighed, trying to form anything else to say other than a lame sorry before his voice cut in again, breaking the quiet, “What about you? What’s your story?”

I shook my head, not wanting to go into the full extent of details, “Something bad happened between me and my ex. We were never good for each other, and when things got more serious he showed his true colors. Things got physical, to say the least. The last time I saw him it was-it was bad. Should have went to the hospital but I ran home with my tail between my legs, back to Momma. Didn’t leave the house until the bruises were gone.” I nearly choked on the words in my throat. “Was four years ago this spring. I was no prude either, but… I don’t know what it is about this town,” I inhaled, calming the threat of tears, “About you. You feel safe. This place feels safe.”

I took him about three beats too long to respond, “Oh, Baby.” he cooed softly, and more rustling came from his end of the phone, “I’m sorry.”

I nodded, nearly forgetting he wasn’t here to see the gesture, “Don’t, Joel - really. It’s why I work with the PD now. Desk job, sure. Not dealing with specifics or super hands on. But sometimes these girls come in, not knowing what to do, and I can look at them and really say… I know. Sometimes it's all they need to help them say they’re ready for the next steps.”

His voice grew softer than I had ever heard it yet, and he let loose a breath he’d no doubt been holding, “That makes sense, Sweetheart. Very good of you.”

“I didn’t expect to have this talk tonight, Joel.” my voice was as soft as a mouse now.

“Glad we did, though. I’d never-”

“I know. You’re good. Better than I deserve, and I can see that from ten miles away, I’m looking forward to getting to know you more. Getting to know Sarah, and Tommy and Maria. Even if Maria sort of scared me today. Truly.”

“What did Maria do?” his voice perked, and I could almost hear the suspicious crinkle in his eyes.

“Nothing.” I pinched my brow, cursing myself for saying anything at all, “Just that you’ve been talking about me to Tommy, and that she’s worried about if things go south. Me being your neighbor and all.”

I heard a soft thump, and imagined him tossing his head back onto his pillow, I wondered briefly if the cases smelled like him, how he looked all tucked in and sleepy, “She means well, good intentions, poor execution sort of thing. She worries-”

“About Sarah, mostly.” I cut him off with a breathy laugh.

“Right.”

“You’re lucky.” My voice was growing heavy with sleep, I laid my head on the phone, the green glow of the screen displaying his number warmed my face, “To have people that worry over you and your girl.”

“I count my lucky stars every day, that's for sure.”

I hummed quietly in answer, “You need to get your beauty sleep, Cowboy. Need all the strength you can get to make your big breakfast for the girls in the morning.”

He ticked his tongue against his teeth, “I suppose you’re right.” a brief pause, “Come over. Pajamas, bed head and all. I reckon they’ll be up with the sun. Therefore, I’ll be up with the sun.”

I smiled into the phone, “You got it, Joel. Goodnight.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

Love love love love!

6. morning coffee

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.5k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it would be called 'the morning after'

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s hard not to smile when you open your eyes.

More so when you feel his breath on your neck, the scent of body wash you quickly remember him rubbing into your skin—the arm currently draped over your waist. The one keeping you firmly close, as though you would ever wish to be anywhere but here.

Seen, wanted and appreciated—even when he’s not entirely conscious.

The only reason you even contemplate moving from this—and the only real reason you’re awake—is that you’re desperate for the bathroom. It worsens the longer you lie there, thinking of it, the pressure on it from his forearm.

A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table tells you it’s far too early to disturb him. To wake him with a kiss and a whisper that you’ll be right back—especially when you think back to how late it was before the two of you finally whispered that you should sleep.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to.

Wanting instead to keep feeling his knuckles drag up and down your outer thigh and knee. The husk of his voice saying he should really flick the light off, even if he didn’t, instead letting you ask his favourite colour and him answering with a handful of shades you’d never remember.

Pick one, Francisco.

Mmm, not sure I can do that, baby. Too hard of a question.

Too hard to pick one thing?

Not when it’s the right thing.

Glancing over at him, fingers close to his, you swim for a moment in the memories of last night—the ache between your thighs a souvenir you can keep with you until it fades. Admiring the length of his lashes against his cheek, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips that you wish to kiss forever, as a thought—one strong and beating inside of you like your own heart—comes to you:

You don’t wish to trade this. Any of it.

Not just last night, but all of it—all of him.

But, you have to move. Even if your heart pleads with you not—eventually only doing so when your bladder twinges again in protest.

You find, slipping out from under his arm (all cautiously and carefully) is easy, until you glance back at his sleeping frame.

A calmness to him, a peacefulness. Chest and shoulder rising, face tilted ever so slightly into the plump pillow. It makes a pang of want thrum through you, one that doesn’t fade when you tiptoe back to the room and find him in a similar position.

Leaning on the wall, the one between his bedroom and en-suite, you flick your eyes to the half-open door. Spotting his bathrobe, fluffy and dark grey—flecks of white stitched in. Your throat suddenly scratchy, dry. Your body desperate for what usually fuels it when you’re up and about.

And you know you have to decide. Choose between attempting to slide back into bed or searching cupboards for coffee—both for you and him.

But you can’t stand there. Able to bet money that if he opened his eyes and found you staring, he’d one hundred per cent find it creepy.

You move when he sighs—further rolling into the space you had been moments ago. Smirking, you move, the decision made as you unhook the rope. Slowly sliding your arms into it until it’s draped over you and you’re welcomed by it: his scent.

That familiar one. The one which smells like pine cones, cedar wood and so much more. The one which had seeped into your clothes that first kiss close to your car.

And, thankfully, it only gets more intense as you step out into the hallway.

Brushing your hand over shelves as you pass, eyes lingering over the titles of books—ones about woodwork, decor and home. Fingers tracing the spines of them as you take in the photographs littered around.

Some are adorned with Luca, varying ages spanned across shelves. A tooth missing here, a gummy smile there. Some you assume are his family, and then a group of men, shirts off and standing in the middle of a dune—grinning, Frankie’s hair far shorter than it is now.

But, as you stare across his living area, you spot all the things you missed last night. The record player and the vinyls tucked on a higher shelf, placed beside crayon artwork framed in dark wood. There are mini-Lego figures in prime places, with wicker baskets containing multicoloured blocks and toys.

Then, there’s the closet near the kitchen you can’t remember from your tour—making a note to question him on later—before finally arriving at his kitchen.

And, fuck is it beautiful.

It’s all dimly lit by the early morning light flitting through the windows. Quiet, peaceful—save for the humming of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Like much of the place, the cupboards are dark, starkly contrasted by white-wash walls and pinned drawings on the fridge.

Centre-stage, and the thing you’re seeking, is his coffee machine. A sleek silver contraption that looks more complicated than you're used to. Shiny, remarkably clean.

Yet, you're determined.

Remembering his mention about his love of coffee and his preference for Cafe Bustelo. Trying to remember the rest, whether it was black drip, milk or no milk. Stroking a finger down the milk frother as you begin to piece it all together from fragments, hints he had dropped unknowingly.

Up until this point, you had found it difficult to find one thing about Frankie you didn’t like. Then you saw his kitchen layout.

Cupboard, after cupboard opened until you found the bright yellow bag. The smoky, rich smell wafting out as you tugged it close, all strong and inviting—it hooked a finger under your chin and coaxed you to spend several minutes fumbling with the machine.

Then, you hear the satisfying gurgle of brewing coffee.

Resisting the urge to break into a spontaneous dance, you opt instead to steal a momentary glance out the window. The world is stirring, its early morning canvas painted in delicate strokes of pink and orange, a serene backdrop as your gaze falls upon the garden. the worn slide of the wooden climbing frame, its sides adorned in an array of mismatched hues and haphazard brushstrokes. Your eyes begin tracing the trail of tiny handprints ascending one side, the lowest the smallest, increasing in size until halfway up. Then, at the top, larger prints that, just hours ago, you imagine were pressed against your own skin.

As a breeze blows through it, it swings multi-colour bulbs hanging, draped and swinging above. Letting your eyes sweep over the plants—the planters likely made by him, like you imagine much of the furniture outside is—suddenly spotting little figures buried into random bits of soil.  

And it makes you smile, grin—full on fucking beam.

Only letting it flicker when you’re stirred by the beep of the coffee machine, pulls you from your reverie. Fingers returning to opening cupboards, seeking mugs, almost grumbling to yourself when you feel hands on your waist.

Ones that feel right, purposeful.

“Morning.”

It’s gravelly, coated in the morning—slowly closing the door before moving back into him, your back flush to his chest.

“Good morning, Butterscotch.”

Feeling him sigh, chin resting on your shoulder, you raise your fingers to brush against his cheek.

“You trying to bring me coffee in bed?”

Turning, you rotate in his arms. Eyes briefly catching the sight of him half-naked. Before taking a full on glance to spot him in a pair of sweats, ones that sit low on his hips. One of his hands crosses over the expanse of his waist, fingers scratching at his soft stomach while you look up to see his hair all at odd angles—curls slightly frizzed from being over-toyed and ragged.

“Well, I was trying too, but...”

“Machine confuse you?”

Narrowing your eyes, his hands coming around you, you smirk. “I will not confirm or deny.”

Running his hand across his chin, he looks over you before his lips twitch. “It was a gift—the machine.”

“From you to you?”

You watch as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, poking you lightly in your side. “The coffee place near work—it was being refurbed, I offered some thoughts as I was in there all the time, so they gave it to me.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

“Do you use all of its features?”

Swallowing, he sighs. “No.”

Sliding your fingers along his jaw, nose practically touching his, you find yourself unable to break his eyes. To not want to remain pressed against the counter in his kitchen, stood barefoot in his bathrobe, coffee scents filling the air.

“I bet you know exactly how to take it apart and put it back together.”

“Baby…”

“Bet you descale it regularly, when you’re supposed to.”

Groaning at the feel of your fingers in his hair, he buries his face into your neck. “Is that making you hot for me?”

“Oddly, yes.”

Snorting against your skin, he slowly lets out a slow exhale. “I hate that I have to open the shop.”

“What would your plans be if you didn’t have to?”

Smirking, he groans—low, barely reaching the surface, but it vibrates through you all the same. “I would for one have convinced you the bedroom was far more comfortable.”

“Hmm, tempting.”

Laughing, he pecks your lips, not moving from his place in front of you, even if his head moves back. “I like that you smell like me.”

“Territorial, noted.”

Turning, he points to the mugs, as you begin pouring the coffee—handing him one as his fingers brush yours.

“I just… I liked that you stayed.”

“Stayed or showered with you and let you see where soap suds go?”

Tilting his chin down, his eyes burn into your soul—all wide, brown, desperate to swallow you whole. “If I remember right, you were also seeing where soap suds go.”

Shrugging, you smirk against the mug, noting his finger resting on the knot of the belt—the one protecting your modesty. “Well, it would be rude to not watch the show.”

“A show? Glad I put on my best moves then,” he replies, voice all low, a hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

You find it hard not to let your mouth become slack, breath hitching at the act.

“Glad it persuaded you to stay?”

Raising an eyebrow, you try to find something smart to say. Ticking. Whirring away. But then you see it.

Ever-present, hanging there—that worry in his eye. A look which half-pleads for you to pinch him and let him know it’s real. A thing you do as you clutch your coffee in one hand, avoid melting at his words and cup his cheek with the other.

The fabric of his robe-sleeve slides down and his breath flutters warmth against your wrist.

“You didn’t need to persuade me. I wanted to wake up in your arms…”

It’s smooth, the way one of his fingers undo the belt, body coming close as you place the mug down and feel his hands, all rough and worn, sliding over your hips. He's cautious to ensure his chest covers yours, as though attempting to keep you warm, concealed.

“—Plus, I really wanted to try your coffee. But, now I want to steal your coffee and bathrobe.”

His laughter trickles out and draws out against you. Frankie’s head shaking, wearing a large smile on his lips, “Well, I think I can come to some arrangement to let you.”

Sucking in a breath, finding his eyes locked on yours, you lean forward and kiss him. Gentle. Delicate. An assurance delivered softly as the coffee aroma continues to seep into your nose.

“I need to make you breakfast,” he whispers, mouth open, breathing the same air.

“Need, want or should?”

With a soft scoff, he leans in to capture your lips once more, whispering all three against you as his hand finds its way to the curve of your neck. Delicately tracing his fingertips over your jawline with a tantalising caress, you find yourself deepening the kiss, hungry for more. His grip on you tightens as you pull him closer, until there is no space left between you both. None that you want to be there. Desperate to be close, to have, to—

“‘m gonna make your breakfast now,” he says, voice close, pecking against your lips before his hands slide from your skin.

The loss is evident. Immediately missed.

Part of you longs to reach out, to draw him back until you feel him clutching the fabric together for you—a slightly lifted brow as you fumble for the belt, and he begins to pull things onto the counter.

Then, you watch him—tying his robe closed—half-in-awe of the meticulous way he moves around his space, grabbing things like he’s been thinking of what to make while you were busy rendered useless.

Eyes fixed on him so much, you see him pause—briefly. His gaze lingers on the coffee pot, glancing back, forcing you to laugh—a shake of your head.

"Thinking about how you’re going to miss this brilliant coffee, you know, since it’s mine now?" You quip, taking another sip of your coffee.

He turns, a pretend wounded expression on his face.

“I should confess that I’m not a nice person without my coffee," he replies, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement.

With a smile gracing your lips, you ease back against his countertop, enjoying the comforting warmth of both the freshly brewed coffee and his presence.

The sunlight continues to filter in gently, casting a soft and golden glow across the room as you pause to drink in the sight before you. Him, cooking you breakfast.

A thing you thought you could have only thought up weeks ago. His curls tousled, a charming mess.

"Selfishly then, I'll let you keep the coffee," you finally concede.

Nodding, he closes his eyes in gratitude before there’s a twitch of his lips. “Because you like me?”

“Because I really like this bathrobe—the robe is a non-negotiable."

He laughs again, shaking his head in defeat. "Fair enough, it's a deal."

“Because I look so good in it?”

“Well," he says, scratching the back of his head. “I think you look good in everything.”

Harry okay?

Yeah, he rocked up ten minutes after you drove off, was able to pick Luca up at normal time.

That’s great! Did you boys have fun?

We did. He’s really into dinosaurs at the moment so I found this craft we could do where we make dinosaurs out of paper plates.

I like making things with him, plus it’s a nice gift for his mom when I drop him off tomorrow.

So handy and crafty?

Very crafty.

And very good with your hands.

You flirt.

You had a nice day?

I got some work done which I needed to get started, and I did some yoga.

Putting all sorts of images in my head.

Says you, talking about being crafty.

Bed feels weird without you here.

Imprinted on it that quickly?

Yeah. You’re the only one that’s been in it except me, and obviously Luca.

Shut up. I cannot be.

You are.

I don’t bring people back to my house.

Ever?

Never.

Never.

Never—

You don’t think.

Not of the time. That he could be tired. Or that his son is asleep in the next room.

Fingers sliding across the screen, finding his contact, and clicking. It's pressed to your ear before you consider whether this is a bad idea. Clutching it, holding it like a lifeline, knowing it's too late. Even if you end it, he'd know, see—

It barely rings.

Two at most, one and a half being a possibility.

And you sigh.

“Fancy hearing from you.”

Pulling your knees up, your bed groans at the sudden movement as you tug the duvet closer to your chin, cheeks rising with your lips. “You’ve really not had someone in your bed?”

It’s there, the sigh. Not full of annoyance, but more like he’s said too much.

“No… I’ve not had anyone else in it but you,” he admits quietly into the phone.

“Wow.”

“And Luca, of course. I always… you sure you want to hear this?”

There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart flutter in your chest. An unexpected stroke of warmth through you at his question, at his consideration—prompting you to hug the duvet closer to yourself. A subtle smile dances across your lips as you let it wash over you.

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

Clearing his throat, you hear rustling, trying to half imagine if he’s turning over in bed, if he’s getting more comfortable—

“If I met someone, I didn’t… I only went to theirs.”

Biting your lip, you shift in your seated position, crossing your legs. “So, lunch and then theirs?”

“No lunch.”

“Coffee?”

Silence. Thick, ear-eroding silence. Before he breathes. “It would be a one-night thing and I wouldn’t stay.”

Oh. Your hand slides around your knee, trying not to grin too much. It's all far too easy to get ahead of yourself, to think too much. To run away and begin thinking this means more than it does. But, then—

“So, I’m…”

“Yeah.”

There’s more you want to ask, them sitting there, burning a hole in your tongue. Practically desperate to erode it, possibly poison it all—as questions sometimes do.

“And here I was thinking I was just another notch on your bedpost,” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, sweet.

He laughs then, a sound that makes you wish you were there with him, instead of miles apart in your own cold bed. “Not at all, baby.”

Toes twitching in your bed, you let out a breath. Sliding your legs out straight, slowly folding yourself down to the mattress, lying on one side as you hold the phone.

And you confess your own.

The reason you’re single, the reason you bought a house.

It rolls and falls, slipping with far too much ease into the air from your mouth. A burden-shifting, a weight from your shoulders lessening. The admission undoing the tightness around your chest as you continue to let the past be told in the present.

You don’t cry. Don’t even feel yourself well up. An improvement, a shift and change in you that you’re sure is brought on entirely by Frankie. On occasion, you hear movement from his side and the briefest whisper of your name. Not in pity—never in pity—just in understanding, in comfort.

“So, I’m the first—“

“Yes, Morales. You’re the first person to ask me out in a long time, big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal.”

Smirking, you twitch your toes. “In a few more dates I might confess that it is.”

“But not right now?”

Grinning, you bite your lip. “Feels like it would inflate your head, Francisco.”

More rustling comes down the phone before you hear a deep sigh. “Maybe. Are you in bed?”

“I am.”

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Is it weird to admit I miss you?”

“Not if it’s weird if I say I miss you too.”

You swear you hear him smile. That soft exhale he does dusts over your ear as he breathes your name, before adding, “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

A comfortable silence flows out, spreading as you listen to him breathe.

“Want me to tell you my favourite dinosaur?”

You don't fight the laughter that rings out around your bedroom

Sunday tiptoes in with the slightest spring in its step.

With a gentle stretch, you reach for the familiar weight of your phone, heart already skipping ahead of your groggy mind.

There's a flutter of excitement, it mixing with a hint of nerves as you wonder if he's reached out yet. Because it's silly to be excited at the idea that he has, to be giddy at the thought of him thinking of you in this quiet morning hour.

It feels almost teenage-like.

But when your screen lights up you don't care what it is, because there’s little point fighting the grin. The pure eclipsing smile that smothers tiredness and makes your cheeks hurt instantly.

Enjoying my morning coffee feels different without a robe-wearing thief.

Rolling onto your front, the duvet sliding down your back, you dig your elbows into the mattress and run your tongue across your teeth.

Good morning to you too. If there’s coffee left, expect me in half an hour. Unless you fancy getting some with me?

Even if it feels like minutes, his reply arrives in seconds.

Instantly illuminating your phone against the backdrop of your pillow, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips.

Always. But I’m thinking brunch might be better?

Grinning, you fight a giggle. Teeth biting down on your lip as your thumbs type at record speed.

Can’t wear the bathrobe there. No, not really. But, I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry. Promise? Pinky promise. Brunch it is. I'll pick you up.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower for Every Secret Ch. 4 - Lavender Haze

Chapter Warnings:

Pure filth. MINORS DNI. 18+ content. Graphic sexual depictions, graphic language. Joel is a consent king.

Word Count: 2505

We couldn’t just say goodnight politely at my front door. We couldn’t just say see you tomorrow and make some joke about how Joel always waits on the porch for the newspaper delivery so they don’t throw it at his door. We couldn’t just say how much fun we had drinking together, socializing with all of those strangers. Joel had initiated something between us when he asked for that dance, when he tentatively kissed me. I knew the moment our lips touched I was absolutely fucked. All that I had registered was that Maria’s car was parked in Joel’s driveway and a blue, flickering glow of the television light from his living room window indicated all was well across the street.

We didn’t even fully make it inside of my living room before we became a tangled dance of black and lavender fabrics. I used only feel and memory to navigate the house backward as we pushed down the hallway. His hands gripping and groping, our loud, shaking breaths synchronized. All I could see, smell, taste, hear and feel was Joel Miller.

He was on his back seemingly in moments, his perfectly pressed jacket discarded on the floor somewhere between the front door and my bed, I straddled his hips, reaching over to flick on the lamp on my nightstand. Joel all but disappeared under the soft, billowing tulle of the dress. His hands searched for my hips under the mess of fabric, he pushed me down against his groin as his hips searched upward for my aching core. I hadn’t worn undergarments, I was unsure now if it was a blessing or a curse. As he gripped at the soft flesh of my hip bones, I clocked the exact moment he realized that despite being at such a formal event, I had been indecent from the moment I opened the front door this afternoon to greet him.

  “Fuck.” he breathed, letting his hands explore further before retreating from under my skirts entirely, I leaned down to begin working my lips and teeth along his neck, popping the first few buttons on his shirt undone in the process, “How often do you not wear underwear?”

I smirked against his skin, pressing my hips down against his again, peppering delicate kisses up to his ear, “I don’t think you’re prepared for that answer, Miller.”

His head tilted back and he let out a strangled noise, “Fuck.” he repeated, sitting up to unzip the back of my dress, the fabric fell from my shoulders with ease and my breasts were on full display for him. He wasted no time in dragging me further above him, sucking a nipple into his mouth, moaning against my flesh.

I dragged a hand through his curls and closed my eyes at the sensation of him, he gave my other breast the same treatment, softly biting, sucking and grabbing before I pulled away, wanting, no, needing to taste him.

His belt slid from the loops of his pants easily, and landed on the hard floor with a loud metallic clang-clang. Just as I freed his impressive length from the confines of his briefs he looked up to the ceiling and nearly whispered a near silent admission, “I’ve dreamed about this since that U-Haul pulled into your driveway, you know that?”

I bit down on my lip as I admired his length, then gripped the base of him and slid my hand up slowly, teasing his throbbing tip with the flat of my tongue. His breath hitched at the feeling, and just before I dove down to take his length into my throat I replied, equally as soft, “Then look at me and watch your dreams come true.”

He let out a strangled moan, tangling his hands into my hair as I sucked and stroked him in tandem. Struggling to take him fully, I was much too focused on watching each flex of his arms, abs, and listening to each of his noises and sentiments he whispered. Marveling at how it seemed impossible for one man to hold so much beauty. 

“Focus, baby. Relax” he dropped my hair and pinched my chin in his hand as I gagged on his length, “Take me, I know you can fucking take me.”

I looked up at him with doe eyes as my core clenched around nothing, and he perched up on his forearms to get a better view of me sucking his cock, “Good girl,” he drawled slowly as I forced my jaw and throat to open more, to let him rut into the soft warmth of my mouth, “You take me so well, Sweetheart.” 

I moaned around his length and dipped my hand under the heavy tulle and layers of fabric, needing to find an ounce of relief for myself, as soon as my eyes rolled back in pleasure he tutted me softly, pulling my mouth off of him and offering me a chaste kiss before flipping our positions so I was now on my back, him hovering above me on his palms, “Keep touching yourself,” his eyes were blown out in the soft lamplight of my room, his face flushed pink, his breathing still a bit erratic.

“Joel-”

“Touch yourself.” he said again, “I wanna see you touch yourself.”

I hesitated but held eye contact with him as my fingers dipped back in, collecting the slick through my folds before finding my clit and rubbing slow, gentle circles, “Joel.” I moaned his name softly, gripping his wrist with my free hand.

“Keep going, honey. Just you and me. Focus on me. Tell me how good you make yourself feel, tell me what you think about when you do this all by yourself in the dark.” he leaned down, peppering my neck with open mouthed kisses.

“I-” I hesitated, my voice starting to get lost in the sensation that I was causing myself, my hands picking up their pace, searching for that wave of pleasure to crash into.

He sealed his lips over mine, licking into my mouth softly, “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

“I think about you-” my own moan cut off my statement, my face heating in embarrassment, “I think about you, doing yard work, sitting on your porch with coffee, I think about, fuck, I think about how nice your calloused fingers would feel inside of my tight pussy, Joel. I think about how badly I want you. How from the very day I moved in all I wanted was to figure out your name, who you were, and how I could- how I could get you just like this.”

“You have me, baby.” he whispered into my neck and dipped his hand down to encase my fingers in his grip, bringing my slick coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking them in. He ran his tongue around and around until he was sure he got every drop of my essence, he let my fingers fall with a groan, “You’re so sweet, I don’t know how I’ll ever stop wanting to taste you.”

He took his time pushing himself under all of those layers of lavender fabric, running his fingers up and down my legs, each return moving higher and higher as he kissed, licked, and bit down on the plush flesh of my thighs, each kiss bringing him closer to my weeping core. When his mouth finally connected to my center, he took his time in tasting me, running his tongue through my folds, kissing around my vulva. Joel Miller liked to tease, taunt. It drove me insane to the point of begging, “Please, please, please, Joel.”

He chuckled against my heat, all I could see was the mess of curls my hands had made of his hair. I pulled the tulle back to see him, just from teasing me he looked wrecked, “Please, please, please, what?” he mimicked my pleading tone, “You need me, baby? You want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Joel.” I nodded down at him and he teased my thigh with his teeth again.

“Ask me nicely, Sweetheart. Tell me you want me to make you cum.”

“Make me cum, Joel. I want you to make me cum, please.” my tone was a pathetic, whining noise in my ears. 

It seemed to do the trick, though. His mouth disappeared from view and I jolted with the sensation of his plush lips wrapping around my clit and sucking me in, I laid myself down and gave myself to his fingers as he wasted no time in testing the waters with his thick middle finger before adding his index, expertly using both his hand and his mouth to bring me closer and closer.

“Joel!” I cried out, my thighs trying to clamp down around his head, but he used his free hand to force them open to continue pushing me closer.

He groaned against my sex, and the feeling of the vibrations, coupled with the steady pumping of his fingers had my vision going white and my back arching as I pulsed around him, gripping his hair tightly.

He slowed his pace, letting me ride out my high and settle back down, when he deemed me ready, he sat up on his knees, “You did such a good fucking job cumming for me, baby.”

“I want you, Joel.” I panted, “I want all of you.”

He smirked as he settled his hips between my thighs and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to my lips, I reached down to guide him to my entrance and he pushed into me slowly.

I gasped at the intrusion, and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, he took his time stretching me to accommodate his size, each thrust of his hips he’d push a little bit further inside, “If you want to stop just-”

“I don’t want to stop, Joel.” I shook my head, kissed his cheek, his jaw, “I want you.” I assured him, and he nodded in answer, pushing himself to the hilt. The flesh of our hips connecting.

My eyes rolled back as he hit my cervix over and over again, as he pushed his hips up at just the right angle that he hit every point of pleasure in my body, “Fuck, baby. You’re fucking squeezing me.” he gasped out as he found a steady pace, ‘You feel so good around me.”

I added the pads of my fingers to the mix, rubbing quick, tight circles around my clit to get me to my second high faster, with each pant of his name, each crush of his hips to mine, it seemed like in no time at all I was pulling him flush to me, biting into his shoulder as I came around him a second time.

He let me ride it out once again before flipping me to my stomach, finally pushing my dress down over my hips, pulling the heavy fabric from my legs before helping me angle my hips up to the perfect height for him to sheath himself inside of me once again, he wasn’t as soft and gentle as he coaxed me to my third high of the night. He pulled my wrists behind my back softly and in a sweet, breathless voice whispered into my ear once again, “Let me know if it’s too much, and I can be softer.” 

I nodded in answer and as soon as he deemed that my response was good enough he wasted no time in setting a punishing pace in fucking himself into me, with this new angle he hit every nerve of pleasure inside of me, filled me so completely and ruthlessly that I was seeing stars without even being brought to that edge. Just so full of him, I wasn’t even sure if I could remember how to say anything other than Joel, Joel, Joel.

I didn’t even register he bent down to my ear until I felt his breath down my neck, his growling sending shivers down my spine, “I’m gonna fucking ruin you for any other man, if you ever fuck anyone else all you’ll be able to think about is how he isn’t Joel. How nobody is good enough to be inside of you but me. You understand, Sweetheart?”

I clenched my fists together as my eyes rolled back, unable to move under the weight of his body pinning me so perfectly down for him, “Yes, Joel.” I nodded, “Nobody’s ever made me feel so fucking good before.”

“Nobody ever will again, just me, baby.” his pace was starting to falter, and I knew by the straining in his voice and pace that he was close, I was, too. 

“I wanna cum with you, Joel.” I moaned out, pushing back against him to meet his thrusts.

He groaned, letting my wrists go to reach between my legs and rub my clit while he continued to fill me, “Let go for me, baby. Cum on my cock like the good fucking girl I know you are.”

“Oh my- oh my, God, Joel!” His words and fingers sent me to my third high of the night, and my knees struggled to keep me up as I felt him throb and empty himself inside of me.

He pushed off of me and threw himself down onto his back, panting and grinning.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread on my face as I let my hips fall to the mattress, laying next to him on my stomach, “Ruined for every other guy, huh?”

He smirked up at the ceiling fan before chuckling, “I can only hope so, anyway.”

I giggled in response, and he leaned toward me far enough that we kissed each other, delicate and unhurried, just like we had on the dancefloor just two and a half hours ago, “I think you have someone waiting for you to get home, Joel.” 

He sighed in answer with a solemn nod, “Maybe next time you can just pop over to my place, won’t have to worry about it until morning.”

I hummed happily in answer, and he swept a stray strand of hair away from my eyes, “That sounds really nice.”

“I’ll see you?” he asked, standing from the bed and slipping into his pants and shirt, not bothering to tuck anything in, his belt on, but hanging loosely from the loops.

I nodded, “Paperboy comes early.” 

He smiled, looking at me while leaning against my bedroom doorway, “Six ten every morning.”

“You’d know.” I rolled my eyes and threw a throw pillow at him.

He laughed and threw it back at me, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

I watched him walk across the street from my bedroom window, and when Maria’s car drove off and the light flicked on in the room exactly opposite mine, I couldn’t help but smirk again, totally not believing that the last few hours had been a total whirlwind of swooning. I hated to admit to myself, but Joel had me. Hook, line, and sinker.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower For Every Secret Ch. 3 - Basket Flowers

Buckle up my friends because I was giggling and kicking my feet writing this.

WORD COUNT : 1885

WARNINGS: Extreme fluff, mutual pining. MINORS DNI. These guys are sickly in love I can feel it in my bones.

Pair the dancing scene with the song J's Lullaby by Delaney Bailey. ALL THE FEELS.

“You going to Colleen’s wedding tomorrow?” a voice piped from behind the glass window.

“Good morning to you, too. I’m not sure. I feel like it was a tentative invite because I’ve only been here like a month.” I looked up at Agent Carrillo through my lashes, phone on hold between my neck and ear. 

Joel hadn’t been home hardly all week. His truck always leaving at dawn and not back until late, Sarah begrudgingly following close behind him. Both of their clothes had been covered in sawdust several of those days.

He hadn’t acknowledged me much since the dinner he had invited me to, the only conversation being passing hello, how was your day? He didn’t have time to play in the streets with the neighborhood kids, much to the dismay of many parents who had to pay extra attention without Joel keeping watch of the street. He had mentioned a big job in the city, renovating an old shop front into a high-end bakery.

“Still nice to get to know people better, you’re kind of in your own world over here.” he shrugged, leaning past the barrier to peek at my desk space.

I covered the note I was writing, waiting to get it sent out to a patrol unit. A welfare check on an elderly woman, I hung up the line when I was confident my message went through, and sighed. “I don’t have a date. So I won’t know anyone, and I’ll be alone. You have a wife, Carrillo. You have a buffer.”

He seemed to consider, “Find one. I mean this in the most platonic way. You’re pretty. Someone would want to go with you, even if it’s some shitty blind date.”

I chewed the end of my pen gently, the only person that came to mind being the neighbor I’d been pining over for the last week, “I think there’s someone I can ask.”

Joel’s truck was surprisingly in the driveway when I pulled into the cul-de-sac, Sarah in the front yard with one of her friends, laying in the grass with a neatly folded fortune teller. They played the game with smiles on their faces, even from across the street I could hear the flip, flop, flap of the paper with the swish of their hands.

I tentatively walked across the street, “Hey, Sarah. Your dad home?” I questioned.

“In his office, just walk inside and let him know I said it's okay.” She looked away from me and smiled at her friend again, “Pick a number one through four.”

“Joel?” I called into the silent house, “Joel, it’s me, Sarah said to come in. I have to ask you something.”

A shuffling noise and a door opening came from down the hallway and Joel appeared, phone pressed to his ear, he motioned for me to follow, using his spare hand to silently shush me, “Again, it’s not possible with the current price of lumber, tools and extras. I gotta pay my guys, I gotta feed my kid. I’d love to continue offering the labor rate I had five years ago when I previously did work at your home, but I am a small business.” he was rolling his eyes, rolling up his long sleeved shirt to his elbows.

I watched him as he sat at an l-shaped desk, stuffed into a corner of the small room, a window directly in front of his chair. A few photos of him and Sarah framed, dusted. A tiny cactus potted, and neat stacks of binders with printed labels. Money In, Money Out, Project Portfolio, Current Client List and Job Sites, Employee Records/Handbook.

He pinched his brow, exhaling slowly so as not to let the person on the other end hear his frustration, “I offer very competitive rates, you won’t find someone cheaper than me right now, I don’t think. I’ve held off on raising prices again… I understand your frustration, times are changing for everyone. Yes, just let me know. I’d love to be of help to you, have a great weekend Bob.” he put the phone into its cradle and groaned aloud, “Sorry, Sweetheart.” he drawled as he spun on squeaky wheels to face me.

“Sarah let me in, I wanted to ask something pretty big of you this weekend. I understand if it's a no, I just have nobody else I’d like to ask.”

He pressed his elbow into the desk, resting his chin in his palm, “I’m all ears.” 

“There’s this… Thing.” I started, looking up at the ceiling.

He waited for me to continue, “Gosh, I’m nervous.” I huffed a laugh.

“Don’t be nervous, just ask.” he had started grinning at this point.

“The chief’s secretary is getting married tomorrow. I was a last minute invite, I wasn’t planning on going, but was given the option of taking a plus one and-” I froze, trying not to stammer over my words, “I was hoping that maybe you’d like to come. With me. As a favor. It doesn't have to be like…” I trailed off.

His ears turned a soft shade of pink and he looked out the window, now to the side of him, “Let me make a call.” he turned back to the phone and in moments, “Maria.” a pause, entirely too long as he stared directly in my eyes with the phone to his ear. I began wringing my hands together in anticipation. My heart thrumming wildly in my throat, “Nothing serious, just a favor.” he started, “I have uh… A date tomorrow… Need someone to feed Sarah dinner, make sure she’s okay.” he was chewing his lower lip nervously, that eye contact still unbreaking, “Of course,” he was grinning now, the pink in his ears flushing through his cheeks, “I really appreciate you guys. Thank you.”

The phone clicked back into its home on the desk, and Joel stood from his chair, “It’s a date.”

Joel promised to wear his best. Based on what I’d seen I’d hoped it was a little more than a blazer and nice pants. But he could show up in anything and I’d be happy just to hear his laugh again.

I wasn’t sure exactly what to label my feelings for my neighbor as, other than when I look at him it feels like the breath has been taken from my lungs for a moment. I spent all evening laying everything out, he promised to pick me up by three p.m for the four o’clock ceremony in the gardens of the event center. The reception would follow in a large barn. From what I had heard, Colleen’s family spared no expense. I opted to wear a lilac, solid colored dress that ended at my ankles, off shoulder sleeves and tulle underneath the skirts to plump up the whole thing, paired with silver heels. My hair in a french twist with pieces left out to frame my face, my makeup bright, blushy and glossy.

The knock at the door as I put an extra coat of lipgloss on and stuffed touchup stuff into my clutch almost sent me into a panic. I rushed to answer the door, careful not to trip over myself before opening the door. I was not prepared to see him look so- 

“Wow.” we said in unison, wide-eyed.

“You look-” we both started, 

“Handsome.”

“Perfect”

Joel really pulled it off. Hair neatly parted and slicked, facial hair trimmed. He sported a full tux, perfectly tailored. He offered me his arm and I graciously accepted, the cul-de-sac was bustling with life, but it was as if he was the only one there with me. Drowning out everything else in a haze of warm, woodsy cologne and perfect smiles. The warmth made each vein in his large, rough hand rise. It was nearly impossible to keep my eyes trained on any single spot of him. He cleaned up good.

He led me to his truck, opening the door and helping me up.

The ride was near silent, only the radio covering the thrumming of my chest. The nerves electrifying my every fiber.

He kept his hands off of me through the entirety of the ceremony, though our eyes often drifted to each other through the vows. The soft music.

The reception was dimly lit, candles gracing every surface they made sense on, baskets overflowing with blooms of every shade to mark doorways, placed on tables as centerpieces, a chandelier of candles with wildflower blooms laced in every spare beam. 

Joel was seated firmly beside me at a table full of strangers. Eventually his hand found a spot to rest on top of mine, our fingers tentatively lacing together. Both of us obviously nervous. It was different than last week on the walk back to my house from his. I was keenly aware of his every movement, the feeling of his skin. The flush of my face, and each beat of my hammering heart.

Eventually I heard the slow, soft guitar and words sung so softly it was like a private prayer.

Darling I’d wait for you

Even if you didn’t ask me to.

Tie a lasso around the moon

And bring it on down to you.

His eyes found mine again and he rose from his seat, keeping our fingers laced together, glancing around at the other couples slowly moving along to the beat, “Normally I’d say I have two left feet… But this time… Dance with me?”

It took a moment for the words to leave after the nod of confirmation, “Of course.” I whispered as he took me toward the middle of the room. One hand pressed into my lower back, bringing our waists together, his other holding mine so delicately I was sure I must be dreaming. The candlelight illuminated his face in a golden haze. Surely things like this are only in fairytales

Cause, Baby, when your arms are around me.

I’d swear that I’m holding the sun.

“Joel,” I started, “Thank you - for coming with me.” his eyes were so warm I could have melted in them.

“There isn’t a way I’d have missed something like this.” he squeezed his hand at my back, bunching up tulle and soft fabric.

You could have the stars and the trees.

When dividing up the universe.

My breath hitched as words failed me entirely; and my hand, pressed firmly onto his shoulder, loosened, slipping further up and around to the back of his neck, burying in the soft hair at his nape.

His brows furrowed, almost a question. Almost a hope. We studied each other as everything else fell around us. Deeper and deeper. Until all that remained on the crowded dance floor was Joel. Me. And the words of a lullaby.

Darling, I wish that you

Could give me some more time.

To herd the whole sky in my arms,

And release it when you’re mine.

At the same moment he leaned in, so did I. It was hardly even a kiss. More like a tentative brush, testing the waters before making a full swan dive in deep water. He pulled away only to look at me again for confirmation. I nodded and he sealed his lips to mine.

I’d put the beach in your backyard

In hopes to be enough for you to stay.

YOU GUYS PLEASE LET ME KNOW HOW YOU'RE LIKING THIS. If you're enjoying PLEASE comment that you'd like me to continue!

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower for Every Secret - Ch 2. Zinnia

PART 2 OF A FLOWER FOR EVERY SECRET.

WORD COUNT: 2248

WARNINGS: Mention of alcohol, Sarah's mother lore, some fluff at the end, Joel is a big softie. 18+ MINORS DNI.

I couldn’t wait for five to come. Tapping at the keyboard on the computer answering emails, answering phone calls and redirecting them to the proper office in the relatively small building. It all seemed so mundane compared to a dinner with the Millers. “Big plans this weekend?” Detective Carrillo mused, and I opened the glass barrier to be able to hear him better.

“Bigger plans than sitting behind this desk, if that’s what you mean.” I smirked up at the officer, “Big plans for your team after I head out?”

Shifts were about to change, night shift significantly more busy than dayshift on Fridays, “The usual. Patrolling gang neighborhoods, probably a small bust or two. Hopefully no big messes to clean up.”

“Hopefully.” I sighed in response, but grimaced at the knowledge of horrors beyond my comprehension just outside the bulletproof glass doors.

The drive home was fairly quick, and I rushed inside to get out of my business casual attire and into a green sundress that fell to my knees. I pulled my french braid out of my hair, leaving big waves that I secured with hairspray before touching up my makeup, adding a little extra blush and a warm-toned pink lipstick. “It’s just steaks.” I said to myself in the bathroom mirror.

I didn’t want to be too early, so I flipped the radio on and set to work on returning Sarah’s favor of making dessert the previous night, baking a quick batch of chocolate chip cookies, setting them on the platter that I needed to return to Joel. By 6:45 I was too anxious to wait any longer and made my way out the front door, slipping into a pair of flats that I had left sitting by the door.

“Going somewhere, Dear?” a kind voice to my left called after me.

I spun on my heel to face the source, Carol. In her front garden beds, gloves on, covered in dirt. “To the Miller’s.” I pointed down to the plate of still-warm cookies and looked to the house directly across the street.

“With sweets?”

“Sarah made me brownies last night, so I’m just returning the platter - and the favor.” I looked down to the paved driveway and kicked a loose rock back into the grass before looking back up at Carol.

She hummed in response, rubbing her hands together to get the excess dirt off of her pink gloves, “Nice night for it.” 

“Yes, it is.” it was still considerably bright out, the sun hardly had begun its descent. But I didn’t let myself correct her, “Supposed to be a nice weekend in general, I reckon.” I added for good measure, not trying to rush the conversation into its finish point.

She nodded, hand on her hip, no doubt leaving a smear of dirt across her overalls; “That’s what the weatherman said this morning, anyway. He’s never quite right, though.” 

“I suppose you’re right, Carol. Weather always has a way of surprising us.”

She gave a polite wave of her hand, as if dismissing the statement altogether. I supposed that signaled the end of the conversation, and I made my way across the street, which had quieted over the last few hours as parents called their children in for meals. As the older families retreated to backyards for beer and card games. No matter how busy the neighborhood seemed, in one breath everything could become so serene.

I knocked on the heavy wooden door of the Miller residence and in no time at all was greeted by who I could only assume to be Tommy, looking much like Joel - but a little shorter, a little slimmer, but the same glint in his eye. “Hi, I’m -”

“I know, you’re here for dinner, come on in, he’s been waiting for ya. I’m Tommy. No need for formalities in the Miller house.”

His home was exactly as I’d pictured. Lived in, loved, but nicely maintained. Photos of Sarah, Tommy and what I assumed to be other relatives and friends littered the walls in all sorts of frames, a big comfy leather sofa centered with the large front window, and a tidy kitchen, all clean lines and neutral tones. Varying shades of beige and blue, broken only with the greens of houseplants and the odd brightly colored things that belonged to Sarah. Her bright pink converse certainly looked out of place next to Joel’s tired steel-toe boots.

“You made it.” Joel smirked as he entered through the sliding glass rear door, a hand towel tossed over his shoulder.

“It was a hard trek from across the street, you wouldn’t believe the terrors I faced on my long journey.” I dramatically sighed, before mirroring his smile, presenting the platter to him. “Cookies.” I stated.

“Cookies?” he repeated with an arch of his eyebrow.

“For, well, everyone, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” he smirked, “But remember when I said I owe you?” he dropped his smile and pointed at me in an accusatory manner, but I could tell from the gleam in his eye it was a facade. 

“I remember that well, Joel.” I started, placing the platter on the countertop, “But I had to bring the plate back, and I wasn’t bringing it back empty, even if Sarah is at her friend’s house.” I recalled the events of last night.

“Let her make cookies if she wants to, I like cookies.” Tommy butted in as he rounded the corner from the living room.

Joel rolled his eyes at his younger brother before retorting, “Nobody cares what you like, Tommy. Nobody except maybe Maria; but even that’s pushing it sometimes, I think.”

I laughed in response, handing Tommy a cookie from the plate, “My own special recipe, guess these are for you.”

“I like your neighbor, Joel.” Tommy pointed to his brother before taking a bite of the still warm confection, disappearing to the backyard, calling for Maria, who I assumed was out in the yard. The smell of cooking meats wafted into the kitchen with the warm breeze.

“Y’look nice.” he stated softly the moment the door shut behind Tommy, and he leaned back against the countertop on his palms.

“I tried real hard.” I matched his tone as I studied his casual attire, plain gray t-shirt stretched across the plains of his shoulders and a simple pair of jeans. Though the admission of me trying to impress him almost made me feel embarrassed enough to stare down at the neat tile flooring that stretched across the kitchen and dining area.

“You don’t have to try. I’ve seen you get the mail in your pajamas.” a wild smirk spread across his cheeks, showing off his dimples.

I tried to stifle my grin, but continued, “You know, Joel, I was almost hoping that it was just gonna be us.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and an eyebrow twitched almost with a question, “That so?”

I nodded, wringing my fingers together nervously, “I had fun with you last night.”

“I did too, Sarah too. She thought you were real nice.”

“She’s a sweet girl.” I nodded in answer, daring a step closer to Joel.

Tommy pulled the sliding door open and looked to Joel before saying in a tone that was almost apologetic, “Hate to break this up, but I know you’ll shoot me if I touch your grill, Joel. You got four steaks waiting to hit the fire right now.”

I hummed in response, following Tommy, who held the door open for me. I didn’t wait for Joel to follow behind, “Then I guess we better get out there.”

A woman was setting out another beer for Tommy from a cooler on the porch, Joel’s lawn was nicely manicured with simple landscaping and a decently sized pool, a nice thing to have to stave off the year round Texas sun. A tall wooden fence caged in his yard, offering privacy from the neighbors to his rear and sides. “Hey! You must be the new neighbor.” Maria greeted me, pulling me into an embrace.

I hugged her back reluctantly, and smiled at her, “And you must be Maria? Heard them talking about how tolerant you are of Tommy in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’m his wife..” she nodded in confirmation, before holding up a bottle of red wine, “You drink?”

“I do.” I nodded and she didn’t hesitate to offer me an overfilled portion of the wine in a stemmed glass.

Joel wasn’t far behind, toting a stack of plates with utensils on top in his arms. He put them in the center of the table before finding his station at the grill and laying the steaks down gently with a hiss. I tried to look like I wasn’t watching him cook, but his eyes found mine and he broke into an almost shy smile. Maria clocked it almost the moment it happened and she nudged me carefully, “What did you do to Joel?” she nearly whispered.

“What do you mean?” I dropped my tone so as not to let him or Tommy overhear what had obviously just become girl-talk.

“You’ve lived here for two weeks?” she asked.

I nodded, “Only had a real talk with him yesterday, though. Sarah brought brownies over and I let them in for dinner. Just a little small talk before then. His typical Howdy, Neighbor.” I shrugged.

Maria looked from Joel to me and back again just as he looked up from the grill and made a smart remark at Tommy about how dumb a move was in the NBA finals last week, asking if Tommy had seen it too.

I let the talk of basketball fall off my shoulders and focused on Maria and her introductory talk, how she and Tommy had been together nearly ten years, and after seven he had finally proposed. How the Miller brothers could be reckless and silly, but one exhale later back to serious business. How Sarah was the light of Joel’s life, and nobody could seem to hold a candle to her, how nobody ever seemed good enough to be in his circle long-term. Only wanting the best for his daughter. I listened especially hard when the topic of Sarah’s mother fell from Maria’s lips. “They seemed good the whole time. Got married young - too young. Right after highschool. Neither went to college, and then Sarah came along so soon after, he was only 20. Almost as soon as he had time to settle into fatherhood and married life, he woke up to her just… Packed and gone with divorce papers and a note. Never saw her again after deliberations. Her mother didn’t want anything from either of them. The next week Joel started to plan on starting his own company. So he could always have her along, so he could fight for the life his little girl deserves.”

I looked up to Joel, who was smiling with Tommy at his side, and he flipped a perfectly browned steak over to its still-pink side. He looked back at me and the same shy smile made his cheeks dimple, he took a long drink from his beer before turning to look at Tommy again.

Joel plated my meal for me and set it in front of me on the table, he took the seat opposite me, and Tommy the opposite of Maria.

After the sun set and the meal ended he offered to walk me home when I announced I was feeling tired, and he led me through the house, the only lights were soft and warm from a few lamps. “I like your family.” I stated, looking up into his eyes, made hazy by the alcohol.

“I think they like you.”

“Maria and I got along really well.”

He nodded and grabbed a flannel from the rack, slipping it over his shoulders before opening the front door. We both kept a near snail-pace as we descended the porch steps, made our way down the driveway and across the street.

“She told me about Sarah’s mom. Real sorry for that.”

He seemed to stiffen slightly before his shoulders relaxed. “I planned on saying something, but. It’s fine. She’s never known any different than just me and her Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria.”

“You’ve done great with her. Must have been so hard.”

“Hardly slept the first few years. Felt like all I did was fail her. Then I saved enough pennies to buy the house. Was a real fixer upper. My crew was amazing. Tommy was even better. Every spare moment, free of charge, they were in there making it perfect. Not for me. Not for any favor. For her. Everything I do is for that little girl.” he almost choked on his last sentence, but cleared his throat.

A familiar warm feeling I got the night before spread through my chest and stomach as my feet shuffled up the three steps to my door. I only realized we’d been holding hands when his fingers slipped away from mine with the distance I had created. Each of his callouses brushed against my fingertips.

We bid each other goodnight and I disappeared into the darkness of my living room.

The next day, groggy with a dreamless sleep and a cup of tea in my hand a familiar thud of the newspaper smacking the door sent me to retrieve the paper. Next to the paper, on the worn-out wood was a yellow zinnia, perfectly plucked, obviously meant for me to find.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower For Every Secret

WARNINGS FOR THIS WORK: No/Pre Outbreak. Minor language, suggestion of drinking, 18+ themes, no smut here but there will be eventually. Some fluff, Joel is not a grump here! No age gap specified, I guess use your imagination?

Word count: 1796

It started one week after I had settled into the small ranch-style house in a suburban neighborhood just outside of the Austin city limits. Summer was at its peak, the telltale signs all around. Children running and biking through the cul-de-sac, parents chasing and chastising children of all ages, the smell of fresh-cut grass and the smokiness of late-night bonfires lingered through the neighborhood. I wasn’t sure if I’d like it here, but in just two weeks, Austin had stolen my heart.

The rapid knocking at the door pulled me from my dinner preparations. With all of the windows open, letting the evening breeze let in the warm light of the sunset, I could hear the soft argument on the porch from the kitchen.

“Shut up, Dad, everyone likes brownies.”

“Maybe not her, feel bad, it’s dinner time, I don’t want to intrude.”

I smirked, recognizing the voices of Sarah and Joel Miller, my neighbors from across the street. Joel was a single father, who devoted his time and energy endlessly to Sarah and her friends. Unlike most of the parents in the neighborhood, Joel was often rompusing the streets with the children, kicking soccer balls, pitching baseballs, and leaving out coolers of fruit and water bottles for the kids to grab at their leisure. Carol, my neighbor to the right, had seen me grinning ear to ear at Joel riding a tricycle fit for a four year old the same day the movers were in and out of my house with boxes and boxes of things. She explained that Mr. Miller had so much time to spend with the children because his business was practically running itself after several years of success. Joel did mostly paperwork and HR things now whileTommy, his younger brother, handled on site management, and the rest typically fell into place aside from needing to be on site a few hours a week for touch ups and client issues.

Other than polite greetings and a short introduction, I knew nothing else of the eldest Miller brother.

Another rapid knock knock knock, “Sarah, honey, she’s probably not home.”

“She’s always home, Dad. Her car is right there.”

I abandoned my station at the cutting board and moved to the front of the house, opening the door and smiling at the family of two, “Howdy, Neighbor.” Joel greeted, running a hand through his curls slowly, “Sarah here was in the kitchen with one of her friends this afternoon and they decided this batch of goodies needed to find a home across the street.”

“Dad took one already.” Sarah interrupted, “There was supposed to be a dozen.”

Joel eyed me apologetically, “Quality control.”

I let a quiet laugh fall from my lips before turning my attention back to Sarah, “Well, one person certainly can’t eat all of these by herself. I’ve got enough dinner cooking for three people, if you guys want to join.” I offered, stepping aside and leaving room for the pair to enter my home.

“We shouldn’t.” Joel sucked in a breath.

“It smells good.” Sarah looked up to her father.

“Hate to let it all go to waste.” I shrugged, locking eyes with a reluctant Joel.

He hesitated for a moment longer before nodding to his daughter, “Alright, go ahead in, Sarah.”

They quickly made themselves at home, Sarah, with a nod of permission from me began flipping through television stations after she abandoned her brownie tray on the countertop, and Joel found a spot at the kitchen island opposite me while I finished chopping vegetables for a salad. “It’s just roasted chicken and potatoes with some salad. Hope that’s alright.” 

“Better than ordering a pizza tonight.” he smirked and watched as I sliced into a tomato.

“So, Mr. Miller.” I started,

“Joel.” he corrected quickly.

“Joel.” I nodded in confirmation, “How old is Sarah? I see you guys outside all hours of the day.” I smiled slightly at him.

He grinned, “She’s twelve, going on sixteen, I think.”

I chuckled softly, “I remember being twelve. Special age. She seems sweet from what I can tell.” I looked through the dining area to see Sarah sprawled on the sofa like she had been in my house dozens of times.

Joel followed my eyeline and clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Sarah Miller, God’s sake get your feet off of her sofa.”

“She’s fine.” I laughed, as I watched Sarah reluctantly settle back into her lying position on the sofa, “Houses are meant to be lived in.”

He softened considerably and let his gaze fall back to the cutting board as I chopped a head of lettuce into small pieces, “Sorry about her.”

“She’s a kid, Joel.”

He nodded in response before turning his attention back to me, “What do you do?”

“Front desk for the police department. Busy job, but luckily I got a normal 9-5, Monday to Friday.”

He nodded, pursing his lips carefully, “Real important stuff.”

I nodded back as I scraped the salad ingredients into a serving bowl as the oven timer went off, “I got it, don’t worry.” Joel jumped into action, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter and moving behind me to take the baking sheet out of the appliance.

“Oh, thank you, Joel.” I went to the dining table to set the serving bowl in the center before returning to the kitchen to grab a cup for Sarah, wine glasses for Joel and I. “Is white wine okay?” I went to turn back around to approach Joel and was met with a firm surface. I gasped in surprise as he grabbed my elbow to steady me.

“I’m so sorry.” he apologized, stepping back and dropping his hand.

“No, no. I wasn’t paying attention. Not used to having people in my kitchen.”

He huffed a laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck, “White wine is fine,” he answered my previous question before continuing with his thought, “I understand that, it’s usually just Tommy coming over and wrecking my house. Sarah is better than he is.”

“Your brother?” I asked, before realizing he never told me that bit of information, I quickly stammered to save myself, “Carol told me a bit about you.”

He let out a tentative laugh, “Yeah, Tommy’s my brother, and Carol is a busybody. You stay away from her.”

“She has all the good gossip, though.” I laughed as I grabbed three plates and the bottle of cheap wine that had been chilling in the fridge.

“She has all the gossip because she can’t mind her own business. I’m convinced that woman’s flower garden is a sham, she only keeps it to keep her ears and eyes on everyone.”

“A flower for every secret.” I giggled as Joel grabbed the plates from my right arm, and he started to set the table.

“A flower for every secret.” he repeated with a sly grin, not looking up as the plates settled on the wood surface with quiet tapping sounds.

I poured generous helpings of wine for Joel and I, and he called Sarah to the meal, preparing her plate for her before sitting down himself.

She hardly got a word in over dinner as Joel and I opened up to each other easily, only remarking how good the meal tasted.

It felt as if Joel and I had known each other longer than just the hour we spent eating and the passing remarks in our yards, we talked about neighborhood changes he’s noticed, his work, my work, Sarah’s school projects and sports events, and Tommy’s antics at neighborhood barbecues. It felt so natural, as if just catching up with an old friend. 

I grabbed ice cream from the freezer and brought the tray of brownies out for everybody to enjoy, which Sarah indulged in immediately.

“Your kid might have a future in baking.” I remarked with a raise of my eyebrows, “These came out really nice.”

“Thank you.” Sarah said with her mouth full of ice cream.

“She certainly didn’t get it from me.” Joel pointed at Sarah with his spoon before returning to his dessert.

Joel, of course, insisted on helping to wash the dishes after the meal finished, “I wanna thank you for letting us in like this. Definitely not expected of you or anything.”

“It’s nice to not have a silent house on a Thursday night.” I smiled down into the sudsy water, scrubbing gunk off of a plate.

“I owe you one.” he stopped drying a fork and turned his face to look at me.

I matched his stance, eyes finding his. Joel’s lips darted around my face, “You don’t owe me anything, Joel.” I stated, his brows furrowed slightly and he took the plate from my hand gently, running the clean, dry rag across the surface.

“I want to, though.” he sighed softly, “I’m grilling Saturday. Steaks, nothing fancy, but-”

“I’ll be there.” I cut him off, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

“Seven okay?” he asked as I resumed my scrubbing, cleaning out a wine glass slower than necessary. Drawing this moment out.

“Seven’s perfect.” I handed him the glass by the stem and his hand brushed mine as it transferred from my hand to his.

I studied his face carefully, a hot, fluttering feeling spreading through my stomach as I realized our proximity. How I could smell his cologne, see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and I swear he must have seen something in my face, too. Because he leaned in ever so slightly.

“Hey, Dad? I forgot to mention it, but Anna's birthday sleepover was tomorrow, and I forgot to tell you we needed to get her a present.” Sarah’s voice sent him reeling back, spinning around to face his tired-eyed daughter.

“Shit.” he looked at his watch, “Sarah, it’s eight-thirty at night, Sugar.”

“I’m sorry.” she looked between Joel and I apologetically.

“No, no, no. I should pay attention to the calendar more I guess.” he sighed, running a hand through his curls and he let out a flustered breath, “I gotta-”

“Go.” I smiled ear to ear, “I get it, Joel.” 

“Thanks.” he stuffed his hands in his back pockets and looked carefully between Sarah and me for a moment, “Go get in the truck, if I have to go to the store you’re comin’ with me, Kid.”

She didn’t answer, but hurried out the front door, Joel trailing behind her, “Thanks for the brownies, Sarah!” I called after her, and she didn’t answer.

“Thank you for dinner.” Joel nodded from the open doorway before he retreated to the now-dark street.

“Any time. I mean it.” I wiped my soap-covered hands on the drying rag as he slipped out of the house.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

I keep throwing out my WIPs and overthinking so I’m just posting this no editing! Enjoy Neighborhood Heart-throb!

WARNINGS : smut minors DNI. 18+ content only, soft smut, soft Joel. slight age gap. Early-mid thirties Joel, mid-late twenties reader. But not specified. No/Pre-Outbreak.

3.2k words!

It started with stolen glances from across the expanse of our backyards. I’d catch him watching while I gardened - he’d weed whack the same spot just a little too long. Then at barbecues, we’d steal glances. But instead of looking away, we’d hold each other’s gaze for just a moment too long. Sometimes his lips would part like he wanted to say something, but he never did.

Joel was the neighborhood grump. Although he was always busy with his construction business, and helping his elderly neighbors to the left of him, his eyebrows were always furrowed, and his replies to comments, questions, and Good morning, Joel!’s were always short, to the point. He rarely let anyone in. His only visitors his brother, his ex for the exchange of their young daughter, and the occasional set of friends for Sunday football.

But something about him drew me in enough that I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him either, while he lounged outside with a newspaper in hand, while he did lawn work with no shirt on, while he shouted at Sarah and her friends for being too wild, too loud, mind the neighbors. Joel was well-intending, but definitely not the open book type. In the year since I’d bought the house neighboring his, I’d only actually spoken to him a handful of times. I think he preferred it that way.

The invitation came without a stamp, likely delivered on foot to my box directly, for a street party at Ray and Liz’s at the end of the cul-de-sac. The day I was told that the little empty turn-around became filled with tables of food, lights, fireworks, dishes from nearly every house on the street. Music would play well into the early hours of the morning, and on Sunday everyone would be so tired from the festivities the night prior that not even the sound of a lawnmower could be heard. It was my first invitation, and I was excited.

I spotted Joel grabbing his newspaper the same time I cradled the yellow envelope in my hand. “Hey, Joel!” I called to him from across the shrubs that divided our lawns, my smile bright, despite it being only seven in the morning.

“Mornin’.” he acknowledged with a polite nod as he bent to grab the rolled local paper.

“I got the invitation to Ray and Lizzie’s party. Will you be going?”

He sucked in a breath, running a hand through his hair as he opened his own mail box and pulled an identical envelope from the black box, “Was thinking of it, why?”

Joel was only in his early thirties with a pre-teen daughter. It did complicate his schedule a bit sometimes, he’d confided in me once from over the hedge line . But other than the grouchy shouting at her and her friends for running around the neighborhood and the silence while Sarah droned about all things pink, glittery, and middle-school drama - his smirk and nodding of encouragement was all she needed. He’d never miss a game, choir concert or school play. Wouldn’t dream of it.

“Well.” I started my reply, “Sure would be nice to see a more familiar face.” I stared at my bare feet on the worn wooden porch. Maybe I could hire Joel to paint it for me. I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You’re going?” he smirked.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I moved in a little too late last year to get the notice. Didn’t want to intrude on the fun.”

He nodded slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay?” I asked, watching him yank the rubber band off of the newspaper and I listened to the rustle of pages as he looked at the headlines.

“Okay like… Okay I’ll be there.”

Saturday evening came around and I’d spent the entirety of the morning baking and decorating cupcakes, sporting a dainty knee length blue dress with off-shoulder sleeves and simple flats. Spending extra time curling my hair and after I deemed my makeup good enough, I made my way down the street, trays of cupcakes in hand. “Can I help you with that?” I clocked Joel’s voice behind me, and I turned to see him in a similar color button up, with khaki pants and a belt.

“We’re matchers.” I acknowledged without answering his question, beaming up at him.

He looked me up and down, before eyeing his own attire, “I guess we are.”

“No Sarah?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“No. Her mother is dragging her to a cousin’s wedding this weekend.”

I offered a tray to him and he accepted it without his eyes so much as leaving mine, “Shame. I know she’d love these. I’ll have to bake a batch just for you guys soon.”

He smirked, a breathy laugh escaping his mouth, “She’d love that. She likes you, you know.”

“Sarah?” I asked, slowing my pace as we made it closer to the end of the street.

“Yeah. Says you’re real nice. That you have pretty dresses or whatever. Always smiling in your little garden.”

I smirked at the pavement, “Sarah, or you? You’ve not been very secretive in your sneaky glances over the shrubs lately, Mr. Miller.” I half-heartedly joked, but still felt a blush creep up all the same.

He halted his movements for a minute and I did the same, looking up into his soft brown eyes, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I see you, watching me in my garden is all.” I resumed my leisurely pace, flipping my hair behind my shoulder and walking a little faster so he had to increase his pace to keep up.

“You think you’re the only one noticing things?” I could hear the smirk in his voice, but didn’t look back at him as the music switched on and faces already at the party were growing clearer.

“Can’t hear you.” I giggled and approached the dessert table, putting my tray of cupcakes down before greeting the rest of my neighbors.

It was a few hours before I locked eyes with Joel again, a few glasses of wine in while gossipping with the middle aged women in the neighborhood. Joel wasn’t far away - beer in his hand, eyes trained on my face. I watched as he took a long drink from the bottle, his eyes never leaving mine, watched the veins in his neck pop as he tilted his head back to finish the rest, watched as he swallowed carefully, and shifted his weight to his other foot, hand in pocket.

I shamelessly eyed him back and lost all focus on the conversation at hand.

“What is that girl starin’ at?” Liz asked the others around us.

“The Miller boy.” Rita, another neighbor giggled her response, “Looks like some kinda starin’ contest.”

“They both just need to give it up already and quit this little cat and mouse game.” I could hardly hear Liz respond to Rita’s girlish giggles.

I downed the rest of my third glass of wine before excusing myself and moving to the snack table, grabbing a few crackers and pieces of cheese, an excuse to move closer to Joel. An excuse to look elsewhere.

He looked… pretty in the soft orange glow of the fairy lights that donned each canopy, the only covering in the clearing at the end of our shared street. As if on queue he was next to me in just a few moments, grabbing a few pieces from different trays. “Hello.” he said by way of greeting.

“Hello.” I said in the same tone as him, but it was an effort to keep my expression neutral.

“You should think about taking a picture.” he shrugged. I could tell his drinking had made him loosen up, he donned a goofy grin.

“Says you.” I smirked at him while chewing a grape.

He stood back, popping a strawberry into his mouth and made a fake camera with his hands, clicking with his tongue. “Picture perfect. Gonna be a real pretty one, got a feeling.”

I laughed at his silly display, “How much have you had to drink tonight, Joel?”

“Still standing straight, aren’t I?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “I suppose.”

“Drink enough wine?” He mimicked my stance, but shifted his weight again, his hip leaning against a table.

“Not nearly enough to stand your ugly mug, Miller.” I teased, elbowing his side before going into the tray for a little cube of watermelon.

“Ouch.” he feigned hurt, hand over his heart.

“You do look nice, all cleaned up like this. ALmost forget you’re human sometimes, always covered in dirt and dust.”

“It’s called hard work, sweetheart. Should try it sometime.”

“Put me on a site.” I egged him on, an eyebrow poised upward, challenging him.

“Nah.” he shook his head, voice dropping quietly, as if there were prying ears listening in. “The guys wouldn’t get any work done with a knockout like you on site. What would you wear? One of those frilly pink dresses?”

“You like my frilly pink dresses.” I dropped my tone to match his, and I noted the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with a harsh swallow.

“Love ‘em.”

My eyes widened at his admission, “You do?”

He nodded, daring a step closer, seemingly not caring about the dozens of people left idling around under the fairy lights. As far as I was concerned, it was just him and me, “Drives me crazy.” he loosed a breath.

“You’re drunk.” I stated, trying to wave off his boldness.

“No.” he shook his head slowly.

“No?” I looked up at him with doe eyes.

“No.” he confirmed with another shake of his head.

I chewed my lower lip, ditching my wine glass on the edge of the dessert table, “Are you gonna ask if you can walk me home tonight?” I asked him finally, letting myself exhale to relax my galloping heart.

“Can I walk you home tonight?” he smirked, reaching a hand out for me.

“Why, yes, yes you can.” I slipped my fingers tentatively into the slots between his.

Joel shook his head slowly, “You’re something else, you know that?”

He kept his hand in mine as we tried to discreetly maneuver through the remaining partygoers, successfully making our way into the dark street, cutting through lawn after lawn until we were in front of my door.

We stood directly in front of each other, studying each other’s body language, eyes, his hand not having left mine. He was all rough edges, calloused hands from years of manual labor. In comparison, my hand was dwarfed by his.

“Meant it.” he nodded after a few moments of silence.

“What?”

“When I said you’re a real knockout. You are. That dress tonight. I-. You nearly blew me off my feet. Gorgeous. Not just today, though.”

I felt a deep blush creep from my neck to my cheeks, staining my skin. “You too. Not gorgeous, but. Manly gorgeous. Handsome.” I stuttered over my words, fully not expecting Joel Miller to be blatantly flirting with me at a party, to walk me home, to call me gorgeous.

He didn’t say anything for several moments, but started to lean down, his hand letting mine go and slipping to the small of my back.

I met him halfway, standing on my tippy toes to meet him.

His lips were soft, unhurried. His other hand reached up to cup my cheek, I leaned into the warmth of his hand and took a shallow breath in when we parted.

His eyes were the softest I’d ever seen them, only opened enough to take me in once more. He leaned in again hesitantly, as if asking permission, and I nodded, giving into his silent ask, reaching my arms around the back of his neck, running a hand through those soft curls of his. He deepened the kiss, the hand on my back grabbing hold of the fabric of my dress, and a low, simmering heat began to spread through my stomach.

“You… want to come in?” I asked quietly when we parted again. My heart was still hammering in my chest. I didn’t want him to walk across the greenery and disappear for the night. I wanted his hair in my hands, his lips on mine, my cheek, my neck. Me.

I wanted his hands, all soft, and rough, and warm on me.

I wanted him on me.

Joel just nodded fervently, “Please.”

I led him through the dark entryway, through the living room, down the little hallway to my bedroom.

We wasted no time getting acquainted with each other, both of our breaths began getting heavier as our tongues found each other, as he backed me up and my fingers undid each button of his shirt and the fabric slipped from his shoulders and onto the floor, until he backed me up and the skirts of my dress were hiked up over my hips, until I was backed up with nowhere to go but down. My calves bumping the soft edge of my mattress. He lifted the frilly blue fabric, the tulle and silk and cotton bunching in his hands until they hit the floor. Delight is the only word to describe what danced across his face at me not wearing a bra, with a tiny, lacy piece separating my sex from the open air of the room.

His belt was next. Falling to the floor with a soft metallic thunk.

His hands traced up my ribs, but his eyes remained fixed on mine, “We don’t have to do this.” he whispered, his lips finding a home just underneath my ear.

“I want to.” I responded, hooking my index fingers into the belt loops of his pants, “I’ve thought about doing this. In every way, in every form. I’ve thought about you, Joel.” I whimpered as his teeth softly sunk into my pulsepoint and pulled him flush against me.

He guided me down into the softness of my mattress, climbing over me as I spread for him. He ground down into the mattress as he kissed me slowly, letting his hands roam, his mouth descending from my lips, to my neck, collar, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that since you moved in next door.” he huffed, “I’ve played this over in my head a million times.”

He attached to my breast, sucking in the stiffened peaks of my nipples, toying with his teeth, groaning against my flesh as he gripped the soft flesh.

I tensed my jaw, letting myself get drunk on him. The sweet, woody smell of his cologne, the feeling of his curls in my hands, the feeling of his teeth. “Joel.” I moaned his name as his fingertips delicately trailed up and down my inner thighs, each pass reaching closer and closer to the bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex.

He groaned as he swapped to the other side of my chest, his touch feather light, teasing, taunting. Leaving me craving, wanting.

He didn’t remove my underwear as he trailed kisses down the center of my body. Past my ribs, past my navel, over my hip bones and thighs. Just slipped the delicate fabric aside, exposing me fully to him, his eyes sparkling with the only illumination seeping in from the street lamp outside. His jaw slackened as he examined me, spreading me delicately as if I may shatter under the rough expanse of his fingers. “Fuck.” he gritted, “You are soaking wet, aren’t you, Sweetheart?”

I nodded in response, cupping my breasts in my hands as I undulated my hips upward once in a silent plea, “Just for you.”

He ran his index finger up the length of my folds, collecting the slick that had gathered, just before he pressed his thumb against that bundle of nerves and pushed his thick digit into my wanting sex.

I arched into that touch, and he took his spare arm and rested it over my stomach as he inserted his middle finger, stretching me around him, working up from a slow, nervous rocking to a steady, full beat as he filled me to the base of his knuckles.

I moaned for him as his fingers curled upward, his eyes darkened with want as much as mine must have been. I couldn’t focus on anything except for how beautiful he looked below me. Could hardly make out his movements until the heat of his mouth replaced his thumb and he began sucking, slurping, and licking while he continued to pump fingers in and out at a punishing pace. The edge of my pleasure coming closer and closer.

I didn’t expect to fall apart so fast, but Joel proved to be an expert at his craft. In mere moments I was fighting against the grip of his arm over me, grinding into his mouth as my cunt squeezed his fingers, he detached, fucking me through my high patiently; “Such a good girl for me, keep going, pretty baby. Let go for me, that’s it. That’s it.” He encouraged, and paused his movements when my clenching subsided.

He pressed a hungry kiss to my mouth, shedding his pants, freeing his impressive member. I gaped in shock at the size of him and he lined himself up, “I just need to feel you.”

I pulled his face to mine, a kiss full of passion and want. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up, rocking into me until his tip notched inside. “So fucking pretty. You’re so perfect like this.” He panted as he slowly rocked in and out until he was buried to the hilt.

“You fill me up so fucking good.” I moaned through gritted teeth, his movements stalled as we adjusted to the feel of each other.

“You’re so tight, Sweetheart.” He cooed, pressing a hand delicately to my throat, testing me with slight pressure.

I inclined my chin to give him more room to press, and he let out a quiet whimper as his movements picked up. Filling me again and again.

I didn’t have long until I was moaning his name again, eyes rolling back as my teeth sank into his shoulder. Sure to leave a mark for several days, he grunted as he picked up to a punishing pace. “So fucking tight.”

He murmured encouragement and sweet nothings into my ear, sending me over that edge of pleasure for a second time, our lips mashing together as he moaned into my mouth, “you’re fucking squeezing me I can’t last much longer.” he panted against my lips between his rutting and kisses.

“Cum for me. I want you, I want all of you.” I met his thrusts with each pound of his hips and he moaned my name once more before drilling in so deeply I saw the very stars that made up the skies above the house.

He pulsed with each shot of relief, filling me with him. All I saw, all I felt, all I tasted and needed was him. Him. Him.

We lay in comfortable silence for several minutes, he was happy to rest his head on my chest while I played with his curls. We were silent aside from the calming of our breathing, heartbeats, and thoughts.

Quiet until he chuckled, “Why did that take us so long to do?”

I shrugged, giggling into the silent room, “I don’t ever want to stop.”

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

Look How Pretty You Are.

No outbreak! No use of y/n!

WARNINGS: DBF! 18+ Minors DNI. This is smut! BIG age gap. (Reader is 22, Joel in his 40s) Unprotected p in v (don't be dumb). Praise, quite a quicky. Would love to write a part 2 to this, tbh.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

Coming home from college in the summer meant two things. I was left to my own devices Monday through Friday, and weekends were crazy. Loud, party filled affairs my parents put on with the entire neighborhood being welcome. This summer was different, though.

Freshly graduated means that this summer was my last one before becoming a “real adult” as my parents put it, even if with the fancy business degree I’d likely just end up in the office dad’s contracting business. A silent, small building that was really just a way for calls to be directed to him from the desk, filtering the bullshit and getting to the point. The click clack of fingers on the keyboard as I did payroll, budgeting, projections, ad flyers. The works. Most of the work was boring, lonely. Silent. 

“Hey, can you run to the store for some beer? Mixers? Snacks?” Dad’s tall figure peeked into the office, clothes covered in sawdust, face covered in sweat. “Friday night and all now that you’re old enough to make those kinds of runs. It’s quiet today. Let yourself off early.” 

I mulled it over momentarily, not really wanting to go shopping for my parents’ party. But knowing it might get me into the party this year, when all previous I’d been asked to stay inside, book in hand, or movie playing loudly to try to drown out the noise of splashing in the pool, hollering and dancing to upbeat music on the porch, “Sure, I can do that. If I can actually attend this year.” 

My father ran a hand through his thinning hair, “Alright, sure.” he shook his head in a “no” motion, but the verbal okay was all I needed.

A smile tugging my lips, “Give me your card?” I motioned for the wallet tucked into his opposite hand, grabbing my car keys and nodding.

“I’ll also keep you on the clock until five if you do a favor for-”

“What? What favor?” slight annoyance tugging at my stomach, but knowing that extra money coupled with the prospect of a night drinking with the neighborhood was too good to pass up.

“Joel sent his grocery list. With Sarah away now, he’s having a hard time remembering these things. He asked if maybe you’d be willing to lend him a hand there, and I said sure.”

“As long as he fixes that shelf in my closet like he promised five years ago.” I tore the slip of coffee stained notebook paper from my father’s hand and eyed it carefully after remembering the shelf that had broken above my head in my bedroom closet while moving out for my first year of college. Dad promised it would be fixed before I was home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, five years later it was still impossible to put any items above my head to sit on the wood.

“Consider it done, I’ll have Joel get on it next week.”

Steak, chicken, snack food, rice, potatoes. “Can I add things? Is this really all he eats?” I raised a quizzical eyebrow, “how is he still alive?”

My father laughed softly, “Sarah used to do all that, just take his card and grab what you think he’ll like, I guess.” 

Joel. The much older, very handsome man who had been the object of my desire since I was old enough to understand the term dilf, Joel. Always present, always prepared, my father’s best friend since High School. So extremely off-limits, even now that you’re an adult. It would only bring trouble.

My father handed the two credit cards to me. I guess today’s task was to be a personal shopper.

Joel, who I’ve had a key to his house since I was hardly ten years old, Sarah and I frequently needed it after school to group together to finish homework, raid the cabinets, and make messes through the home until her father would come back and scold us for being teenagers. 

Joel, who was my first fantasy. Authoritative, but kind. Hard, but soft. Ruthless, but understanding of my and his daughter’s antics up until his tear streaked face sent both of us away to the same college, except I returned home and she found a job in the city.

Joel, even thinking of him at the red light while waiting to turn into the grocery store had me clenching my thighs together in my sundress, need filling me even when knowing I’d never get to taste.

The list focus. I got all of his essentials and then some, wanting him to be satiated for longer than the weekend, giving him options for the start of the week before he’d inevitably go back to fast-food runs between job sites.

After Joel’s list was taken care of, I shopped for the party, dividing the orders up before checking out and returning to town, stopping first at Joel’s house since his order had more need to go to the fridge than the alcohol and snacks my father had asked for.

Halfway through putting his order away and tidying a few other areas to be helpful, the front door opened, the sound of boots kicking off, Joel’s muttered voice so quiet I couldn’t hear it. I suppose he was used to talking to himself now, though.

“I thought I saw your car here.” his friendly tone rang from the kitchen entrance.

“Yeah, Dad gave me your list. So I figured I’d get it all set for you. I didn’t know when you’d be finished over at that apartment complex, so I- well. You know.”

“You tidied up?” he asked, looking at the organized dining table, and the lack of dishes in the sink.

“There were only a few things, I thought-”

“Thank you. I’ve been a mess with my little girl gone.” he smiled.

“She misses you. We called each other last week. Talked about the hell we raised here, how we were sure you hated us.” I laughed softly, closing the fridge and putting a box in the familiar cabinets, knowing this house as well as I knew my own.

“Nah, I could never hate you girls. Kids being kids, is all. I was young once, too.” he had a soft look of remembrance, looking at me like he was a million years away, “But you’re all grown up now. Well adjusted, smart, beautiful girl.” he sighed, rinsing out his coffee thermos in the sink quickly.

I had never heard him call me beautiful before, and my heart lurched at the compliment. Though, I’m sure he meant it in a far different way than I’d construed. Like a second daughter, like a neighbor across the street. Like someone he helped raise. Not like beautiful beautiful, “Thank you, Mr. Miller.” I smiled softly at his sentiment, anyway. Wiping down the counters when I’d finished, “I took the liberty of getting you some extras. Steak and potato diet only gets you so far.”

“Oh, thank you.” he sounded genuinely grateful, “I never know what to do, or what to eat, really. Sarah usually would-”

“I know, she’s a great cook.” I giggled, showing him the receipt that I’d crumpled in the pocket of my cardigan, placing it in his hand, “Here’s the damage.”

He looked everything over carefully, “That’s fine.” he nodded, “Thank you. But, don’t call me Mr. Miller. That’s weird.” he smirked, “Just Joel. Same as always for the last 22 years.”

“Sorry.” I laughed shyly.

“I’m gonna hit the shower before heading to your folks’ place.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Joel.” I smiled softly and he rested his hand on my lower back as he brushed by me to create space between himself, me, and the kitchen island. Such a simple gesture, but the placement was new. Usually he’d touch my shoulder or ask me to step aside for him.

I tidied the magazines and newspapers littering the coffee table, dusting the surface with a cloth before I left, I debated on vacuuming but left the rest as is, I’m not his housekeeper. I’m not replacing Sarah. He’s grown, he can take care of it, surely. Before I had time to slip back into my flats, the water was already off and the bathroom door was opening. I turned away as I folded the throw blankets and Joel’s surprise at seeing me still in his house was obviously justified, “Dammit, you scared me!” he clutched his abdomen and sighed in relief, “What are you still doing here?” not angry, quizzical.

“I noticed some magazines all out of place, so I thought I’d do that. But then I saw dust, and then the blankets- sorry, Joel. I didn’t think you’d be so fast.” I let out a breathy laugh and turned to face him for just a moment before covering my eyes up again. He was only wearing a towel, water droplets decorating his toned frame, dripping from his soft, curly hair that’s been made slightly gray over the years.

He sighed, not in frustration. Just a sigh, “You don’t need to take care of me like this. I’m fine, Sweetheart. Really.”

“I know. I just. This house is so special to me. I practically grew up here.” I looked to the location of the coffee table and could practically see Sarah and I grunting to move it aside and lay a million blankets and pillows out on the floor for our sleepovers. Popcorn kernels and candy all over the floor, empty box of pizza that Joel would have helped us scarf down before disappearing into the backyard or the master bedroom to leave us alone for the remainder of the evening. He never lingered too long, never tried to be the cool dad. Knew when it was time to leave his daughter and her friends alone.

His tone was even softer now, “It is a pretty special place, huh? Your Daddy helped me build it from the ground up. Pouring that concrete, framing up the walls. Drywall, mudding, installing. This house was the best job I’ve ever done for my family. Promised so much.” I knew he was reminiscing about his wife who had passed away more than a decade ago. The way he looked so far away even though he was right there. 

I dared to continue to keep my eyes on him despite his attire, “I miss her, too.” I said suddenly, his eyes flitted to mine and he smiled weakly.

“Why don’t you head on home, Dollface? I saw all the bags you still have to unpack over there in your car.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his towel to ensure it was secure enough.

My mouth ran dry at the sight of him, I felt so guilty for it after such a tender moment, “Sure. Enjoy your groceries, Joel.” I smirked and slipped into my shoes, letting myself out and backing from his driveway into mine. Perks of being across the street.

My parents had yet to return, so I quickly unloaded and prepped the snacks into serving trays and bowls, put the booze on ice in coolers and began dragging everything to the backyard, filling the picnic table by the pool with things to eat, cooler resting on the ground beside everything else.

I made myself busy getting ready, slipping from my work clothes to a black bikini covered by shorts and a plain off-shoulder long sleeve shirt. The sun would set soon, dropping the scorching temperature. I added a soft lipstick and touched up my makeup, keeping my hair down. By the time I finished I could hear the familiar bustle of my folks in the kitchen, prepping for the grill and salads. 

I offered a hand in the kitchen, as typical and my mother handed me a large knife, “Quarter the cucumber and dice some tomato for the salad, please.” she instructed as my father poured seasonings into a dish of various cuts of chicken.

I set to work, “I dropped that stuff off for Joel, Dad.” I started, and he hummed in response as a thank you.

“Thanks, baby.” he said as he massaged the seasonings into the meat, “He just needs a little hand for now is all, I’m sure in a few weeks when the busy season is over he’ll be right. Maybe it can be a regular thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. I miss being there all the time, anyway. Such sweet memories from growing up in that house.” I mused, the rhythmic chopping on the cutting board in front of me keeping me at a steady pace.

“How is Sarah, anyway? Talk to her lately?”

“Fine, she likes her new job, dating around a little. Nothing major aside from roommate drama. She doesn’t like apartment life.”

“Not like being roommates in the dorms with you, huh?”

I scoffed softly, “Evidently not.”

The small talk continued until we opened the front door for our neighbors and Joel was first over, as typical. He and my father sat poolside in lounge chairs, beer in hand laughing and talking like usual until others joined them.

I found myself watching him from the window above the sink as I scrubbed at the dishes left behind, watching his dimpled cheek when he smiled, the curve of his mouth around the glass bottle, how he would scratch at the stubble on his cheeks when thinking. I could see their bottles were nearly empty, so I finished scrubbing a pan and headed to the yard, opening a cooler and grabbing three bottles, two for the men, one for me. I cracked mine first and took a swig, then cracked the other two and brought them over, “Noticed you guys were looking a little low.” I eyed Joel instead of my father.

“Why, thank you, Dollface.” Joel smirked and held the drink up in a cheers motion, “What a sweet girl you have, Jimmy. Always looking out for the guests.”

“She learned hosting from her Mama, Joel. Certainly not me.” my dad quipped, nodding a thanks to me as I handed them each a bottle.

I felt a blush creep up with how Joel was examining me, and I wondered if that was the same way I was watching him earlier. He took the bottle from my hand and pushed further, “While you’re being so gracious, can you get me a little snack while we wait for the others to get here? Feelin’ a little peckish.”

I smirked and faked an annoyed eye roll, “Yes, sir. Welcome to my restaurant. What would you like?” 

Joel laughed at that, “Surprise me.”

I made my way to the snack table and loaded a small plate with cheese, crackers, meats, and cold veggies, bringing it back to the familiar man, “Careful, there’s poison somewhere in there.” I joked and his smile broadened.

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, Old Man.” I quipped back before returning inside to clean up the rest of the mess and my father laughed.

Before it was fully dark outside our backyard was full of people. I made light of the event, socializing, recapping the last four years of my time away with neighbors. I kept nursing drink after drink to help my nerves keep calm, my social meter tapped out by around ten p.m with hours left to go.

I stepped inside and retreated to the bathroom to get just a single moment where I didn’t have to talk to anybody, the harsh lighting burning my blurred eyes after spending hours in the soft lighting of the backyard.

I splashed a little water on my face and when I opened the door I gasped to see Joel standing there, “Oh, sorry, Sweetheart.” his eyes burned the same color as mine, lids heavy with drink.

“It’s fine, Joel.” I nearly pushed by him but his smirk stopped me.

“I’m not Old Man anymore?” he towered over me, and this close I had to look up to meet his eyes.

“Oh, you’re still old.” I giggled, the quiet of the house was a complete contrast to the music coming from outside. The rest of the party dancing, socializing, drinking.

He hummed in response and set his hand on my waist, looking into the bathroom, “You done in here or can I take a piss, Gorgeous?”

I flushed instantly, “Sorry, sir.” and stepped aside.

His eyebrows raised softly “So tense with me. Almost like-”

“Almost like what?” my heart began drumming inside of my chest.

“Nah, nothing.” 

I pushed by him and let him in, closing the door behind me with a “You need to fix my closet next week, Joel.” 

“Anything for you, Babygirl.” he called from behind the closed door and I felt myself melting inside.

“Promise?” I giggled, pushing the boundary thanks to the mixed drinks in my blood.

Silence for a few moments, running water, and then the opening of the door, something had changed in his eyes in the few moments from behind the barricade of the door. “Of course, Sweetheart. Anything.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and felt my eyes close softly unconsciously. I snapped them back open, feigning off embarrassment. 

“You’ve been acting strange since you moved back home. Everything okay?” he sounded concerned.

“Fine. It’s-” I almost admitted it was him. I shut my mouth before I could say anything sober me would regret.

His full lips tipped up into a half-smirk, “It’s. It’s. It’s-” a pause, he wanted me to continue, “Spit it out, Doll. What’s bothering my girl?” his tone was the same as it always was when I was needing advice growing up, but his eyes were darkened.

“You.” I whispered so quietly I wasn’t even sure I said it or if I just thought it.

“Me?” he said after a long pause, furrowing his brows.

“It’s- Nevermind. So stupid of me.” I turned on my heel and started away from him, but he grabbed my wrist carefully to stop me.

“You’re not stupid.” his eyes held promise. Safety.

“If I say what’s on my mind you’ll change your mind, Mr. Miller.” I felt smaller than a mouse at that moment. The liquid courage pushed me on as he continued to press.

“I promise. Nothing you say could ever change my mind.” 

“I’ve been acting weird because of you.” his hand was still gripping my wrist and his hand tightened for a fraction of a second, my skin burned deliciously at his touch.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked cautiously.

“The opposite.” my voice was still a whisper, and his was dropping now, too. Reading that this was a conversation better kept private.

He hummed again, “Do you-”

“Since I was a teenager I’ve had a crush on you. The older I get the more I can read you. The older I get the more I-... The more I cannot think about anything else but how it would feel to-” I stopped. Stupid. “Stupid.”

“No.” he shook his head, “I’ve been watching you the last few months.” he admitted, “You’re not a little girl anymore. Far from it. A gorgeous woman. You’re not stupid for thinking, but it could cause issues.” his eyes held concern.

“With Sarah.”

“And your old man.” he finished my thought.

“You-you feel it, too?”

He nodded once, a silent reply.

I stared at his lips suddenly. Then his eyes. Feeling my reserve crumbling around me, hoping his was, too. I turned my figure more toward him and he pressed his spare hand, still damp from washing into the small of my back, still gripping my wrist with his free hand. “Are you going to kiss me, Joel?” the silent, darkened hall and our hushed voices would raise alarm for anyone within earshot. Thank God we were the only ones in the house.

He didn’t answer with words, but let my wrist go and cupped my jaw in his hand, pressing me against his toned body, hands all rough from his job. Hesitantly, slowly he was leaning down to my level before his breath hit my lips and he stopped. Knitting his brows together, biting down on his bottom lip. He was fighting a war in himself, one that he was going to lose. “Please, if you’re going to kiss me… Please. I’m begging.” I shot my eyes back to his as my whimpered plea ran out of my mouth like a track star and he was pressing his lips against mine in no time at all.

Soft, tangy with beer. Electric. Everything I had ever dreamed of. I gasped as my senses were overloaded with him, and he wrapped his arm around me tighter, his grip on my jaw was iron. I placed my hands on his chest and he mistook it for pushing him away, “God, I-I’m so sorry-” he started, but kept his hands in their places.

“No. I’ve waited ten years for this moment.” I admitted, looking up at him through my lashes, “please don’t be sorry.”

He reconnected his lips to mine, taking advantage of the still quiet house before pulling me into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

I leaned my back against the counter and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, he was feverish. The way he clung to my hips in desperation, licking into my mouth at the added privacy of the bathroom. I allowed him access, moaning softly against his tongue, curling my fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. He tasted like heaven. He pulled away again, and his eyes were almost deranged looking with a mix of emotions, “Fuck, we could get in trouble.” he whispered.

I felt wetness pooling into the bottoms of my bikini at the sight of him panting, flustered, red. The prospect of getting caught wasn’t going to deter me, though. Not right now, at least, I dropped to my knees in front of him and quickly undid his belt, “What are you doing, baby?” he cooed, running a hand through my hair.

“I’ll be fast.” I promised, looking up at him with doe eyes. I’d never seen him from this angle before, I figured if we were already in trouble I may as well make my fantasy come true.

He didn’t object, but nodded and let a shaky breath escape his parted lips as I made quick work of his button and fly, he shimmied his jeans off of his hips and let the dense fabric fall to his ankles, I gawked at his bulge for just a moment, gasping at the size and girth presented to me at eye level. I trailed kisses up his thighs, over the fabric of his briefs and along the bony ridges of his hips, “Please, Sweetheart. Hurry before we get in trouble.”

I pulled his hardened member from the top of his briefs and quickly sunk my mouth down around him, no teasing. No taking time. I took him as far as I could before the threat of gagging sprung on me, wetting him with my tongue.

“Nngh-Fuck. You’re not so innocent as you look, huh?” he grunted softly, his voice strained, bracing himself on the ledge of the counter behind me with his hands.

I hummed around him and he bucked his hips further down my throat, saliva dripping down my chin from the sudden movement. He pulled me off of his length by my hair and cupped my face in his hands, my mouth chased his throbbing cock as he removed me, “Joel, I just want to make you feel good.”

He nodded in response, closing his eyes to try to gain composure, “You are.” he whispered, pulling me up to stand by my hands, working at the button on my shorts, yanking them down and turning me around so I was facing the vanity mirror, hands roaming around underneath my sweatshirt, grasping my breasts while I stared at the two of us in the mirror. 

“Fuck…” I whispered, looking at our crazy expressions. Lust-filled eyes, swollen lips, red cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, dipping his hand into my bikini bottoms, feeling my wetness while watching us in the mirror, keeping, “So wet for me.” he whispered against my neck, kissing softly.

I whimpered at the contact he made with my clit suddenly, and rolled my hips against his hand for relief, he pulled his finger away and licked my slick away, he groaned softly, “You taste like Heaven.” he bit my shoulder playfully and whispered against my skin, “You want me to fuck you? Right here, while the entire block is just outside?” 

My legs trembled at the image that flashed in my mind, and I nodded quickly.

“Use your words, Sweetheart. I need to hear you.” his hands traveled the curve of my thighs and ass, squeezing the plush flesh.

“Yes, Joel. I want you to fuck me while everybody is just outside. While it’s so easy for us to get caught, I want you to fuck me so good I can’t even remember my own name after.”

“Good girl.” he untied the rest of my bathing suit and let it drop, fully exposing my lower-half to him. Both of us were only wearing our shirts now, he trailed his fingers delicately over my skin and kept his voice low. “You have to be silent, baby. Silent.” his eyes showed concern, “Be a good girl for me and nod that you understand. Show me how silent you can be.”

I nodded once in confirmation, clenching around nothing aside from the prospect of being filled up by Joel Miller.

He kept his eyes on my face from the mirror as he pumped his hand up and down his cock a few times, readying himself for me, running the tip along my slick and pushing the tip in. “You’re so goddamn tight,” he cooed and my eyes rolled back at trying to suppress a noise that threatened to erupt from the depths of my soul at him splitting me open for him, slowly easing in centimeter by centimeter. Too tight for him not to savor the feeling of me throbbing around him.

“Joel.” I whispered, hardly audible.

“Silent.” he warned, a crazed look in his eye as he stilled his movements.

I nodded, and he wasted no more time stretching me slowly along his cock, he pushed in hard and fast the rest of the way. Watching me fall apart and lean against the counter for support.

I opened my mouth and forced myself to make no sound, grinding my hips back against his as he panted softly, stilling when he filled me to the hilt, “So good, baby. Such a good girl.” he gripped my hips hard and picked up a slow rhythm, filling me and then retreating fully. Teasing that delicate spot so deep inside my own fingers can never reach.

I whimpered softly, hardly a sound at all and he snapped his hips against my ass, “So pretty like this. Staring at yourself getting fucked by your father’s best friend. So obedient and quiet for me.” he watched us in the mirror, my face red from suppressing myself. Knuckles white against the edge of the counter.

His hand snaked around my hip to my stomach, trailing down until he found my clit, rubbing deliciously slow circles around the sensitive bud.

I couldn’t help it, the feeling of being full to the brim and the added pleasure from the sensitive spot forced me to release a moan of pure bliss, “That’s so good.” I let out, and he clamped his other hand over my mouth, shaking his head quickly and pulling out of me.

“On the floor, lay down.” he pointed to the floor and I laid on my back, he fit himself between my knees and covered my mouth again, using his other arm to support his weight above me. “Silent. This is your last warning.”

I nodded, eyes wide, boring into his serious, caramel colored irises.

He snapped his hips to mine, this new angle filling me even better, and his pace was fast, desperate, hard. He never took his hand off of my mouth the entire time he whispered praises against my neck while he bit, kissed and licked my tingling skin.

I stayed silent for him, taking in his hushed praises through heavy lids and flushed skin, My breathing hitched as I felt the waves of my orgasm begin to ripple through me.

“Cum for me, Sweetheart. I want to feel how good my cock is to you.” he pressed his hand down more firmly, a reminder of my task. Silence.

My eyes rolled back sharply as I arched into him, clenching desperately as his cock, breathing labored as my nails clutched into his hips, leaving small crescent shaped marks in his skin.

“Good girl. Good girl. Look how pretty you are when you fall apart for me.” he bit his lip as he continued his pace, riding out my high while chasing his own, and I held my breath against his hand.

It wasn’t long after mine that he began to crumble, his pace faltering, his breaths ragged as he ground his hips against mine slower and slower. Softer and softer. He pulled himself out of my throbbing pussy and let his warmth burst out over my thigh.

Finally removing his hand from my mouth I clutched the fabric of his shirt desperately, pressing his lips to mine. He grunted against my lips; a satisfied, unconscious noise. When he pulled away and pressed his forehead against mine, I could only imagine the expression I was making for him. Fucked out, touched out, desperate to take him again. Properly, not on the bathroom floor while a party raged on around us outside.

As if having the same thought, he cleaned me up with a washcloth from the linen closet and slipped into his jeans, buckling the belt. “Go to your room and wait a few minutes. Don’t wanna look suspicious.” he shrugged.

“Right.” I nodded, scrambling for my shorts and grabbing the bikini bottoms from the floor, only bothering to put the shorts on before pushing the door open and hurrying to the stairwell.

“Wait.” Joel’s voice was a harsh whisper, and I turned to face him, “Let’s do this properly next time.” He suggested, “Not in a bathroom.”

I nodded once before running up the steps, feeling empty now that he wasn’t buried inside of me but knew time was of the essence right now. I figured I’d make up some excuse about being clumsy and spilling a drink or food on my outfit and that’s what took me so long inside, fabricating a lie I’d hold onto forever if I had to. Ensuring that nobody would ever find out about the questionable dynamic of Joel and my now extremely complicated relationship. 

When I returned outside around ten minutes later, I was thankful nobody batted an eye. Nobody missed me, and Joel was making himself busy at the snack table, popping a pretzel in his mouth and chewing with a knowing, cocky smile on his face.

“There’s my girl.” my dad’s voice cut through the yard and I snapped my attention to him before I could fall apart looking into the eyes of his best friend.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

Eye contact while you’re inside her.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]