All ONES: The Complete Collection Page 9

  I'm in an alternate universe and it's every fantasy I never knew I had.

  What CEO of a billion-dollar company dreams of enjoying a farm in the middle of nowhere? Who imagines waking in a small bedroom, complete with a canopy bed and sunshine streaming through pink curtains, as birds sing? What owner of a 7,000-square-foot penthouse with a to-die-for view of the Empire State Building enjoys the hominess of a hundred-year-old, 3,000-square-foot farmhouse with a wraparound porch, creaky floors, and a view of cornfields?

  Sitting with a cup of steaming black coffee, I listen as Kimbra and her brother, Kevin, bicker back and forth while helping their mother in the large eat-in kitchen. The warm spring air is filled with the sizzle of frying as the aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon reminds me of some of the best diners in New York.

  Although Kimbra's dad, Oscar, is talking, I can't concentrate on anything but Kimbra—Kimberly Ann. That's what everyone here calls her.

  "Because of you, I'm out ten bucks," Kevin says, not doing a good job of whispering.

  "Me?" Kimbra asks. "What did I do?"

  Kevin tilts his head my way. "You brought a real guy here. I put money on him being made up."

  Kimbra reaches out and punches his shoulder.

  He lifts his hands in surrender. "No. Listen. I was sure it was a good bet. When Mom said your boyfriend's name wasn't Timothy, but Duncan, and you didn't want him in the wedding, Susan and I figured he wasn't real. I bet Jimmy ten bucks this fake Duncan guy would be a no-show. Susan and I were sure that before last night, you'd have some reason why at the last minute he couldn't attend. You know, like you’d make up some accident or something."

  Her brother is about as good at speaking softly as he is at being nice to his sister.

  "Shut up!" Kimbra whispers back. "Obviously, he's real."

  Kevin's head falls back in laughter. "He's real, all right. Last night I thought your old bed was going to collapse."

  Kimbra's eyes flash to me. And though I look down at my coffee and pray her dad isn't listening, the gleam in her expression makes my cock twitch with the memories of the night before.

  I'd done what I'd promised.

  After she introduced me to her family and we endured an eight-course meal, including a barrage of family stories designed mostly to embarrass Kimbra, we tried to excuse ourselves, claiming we were tired from work and the trip.

  Kimbra's grandma, Helen, wouldn't hear of it. She insisted the entire family gather in the kitchen and play five-card stud and seven-card draw. Thank God we were only playing for pennies, otherwise the woman would have taken my company and my penthouse. Kimbra wasn't kidding when she said her grandma was ruthless. She's also hilarious. I can't remember when I laughed as much.

  Once we were finally alone in her little girly room, I found myself enthralled.

  In a matter of hours, Kimbra had become someone else. No longer the HR professional who commands a boardroom of employees, here in her hometown and in her bedroom, Kimbra became someone more than the beautiful, competent woman I thought I knew. She became someone with feelings and dreams.

  Though I enjoyed her family, I hated hearing her mom and grandma question Kimbra's choices about her future. I detested her brother's jokes and put-downs. It all brought to life some inner protector I didn't know I was. When they said such things, I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and take it all away.

  We stop inside the bedroom. Pink curtains billow with the breeze coming from the open window. Outside, the night air is filled with sounds unlike anything in the city. There's no rumbling of cars or honking of horns. Instead, there’s the soft murmur of insects—crickets and cicadas—as well as the occasional croak of a toad or hoot of an owl.

  "I bet you're not used to any of this," she says with a hint of sadness in her tone that I instantly dislike.

  I step closer and wrap my arms around her. "Used to what? A pink canopy bed? You might not know this about me, since I've been such an awful boyfriend for the last five months, but I like pink. I have a pink canopy bed in my penthouse." I turn toward the window. “Pink curtains too. Actually, pink has always been one of my favorite colors.”

  Kimbra's eyes open in amazement. "No, you don't."

  "How do you know? Have you been sneaking into my place?"

  “You said your favorite color was blue.”

  I caress her cheek and look deeply into her eyes. “It is now.”

  Her cheeks color and rise as her expression fills with amusement. "I didn't mean the room. Although I doubt you imagined spending the weekend in a 1990's flashback." She looks over to posters of boy bands that still decorate her walls. "I meant them. They all talk, constantly, all the time."

  I tilt my head. "I like them, except when they upset you."

  Her smile fades. "They don't. They mean well."

  "And Kevin?"

  "It's what we do. I call him a jerk-face and he calls me a witch. We mean it lovingly."

  I run the tip of my finger along her chin. "He's jealous."

  Kimbra sighs, steps away, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Hardly. No one here is jealous of me. They all think I'm crazy. They all live perfect lives. Married lives. Lives that either include or will include babies and dogs."

  I walk closer, taking in every perfect inch of her. Leaning down, I lift the hem of her bright blue shirt and do what I've wanted to do since we were on the plane. I find her strapless bra and unsnap it.

  Her eyes sparkle as they narrow. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm freeing those gorgeous tits. They've been held captive in that bra for way too long. Remember what I said. If you love something, set it free." My hands roam under her shirt cupping her breast and rolling one of her nipples between my fingers. As her mouth opens and no sound escapes, I remind her of my appreciation. "Beautiful, I love your tits.

  "And don't tell me that no one's jealous. You're gorgeous with curves and..." I reluctantly let go of her tit and pull the clip from her hair, letting the long auburn locks fall down her back. The way it hangs in soft waves fascinates me. In the office she always has it pulled back or up. I fight the urge to run my fingers through the auburn tresses. "...are living your dreams. Remember at Gaston’s when you told me that New York was your dream. Kimbra, you’re living that, every day. Kevin's stuck back here in Indiana running a farm."

  She shrugs. "It isn't that bad back here. It's what Kevin always wanted to do. He never wanted to move away. Neither did Susan. It's what my parents did and their parents before them. It’s what they expected me to do. Settle down with a nice hometown boy."

  I take a small step back and narrow my gaze. "Tell me, should I be jealous? Is there some hometown Joe who is waiting for your return?"

  "Well actually, rumor has it that the Indiana shoe king is still interested." She shrugs with a beautiful grin. "Of course, I haven't seen or talked to him since our high school graduation."

  "Shoe king? I'm intrigued. Something tells me that Jorge would be too."

  Kimbra laughs. "Seriously, tomorrow you'll meet more family and Saturday..." She lies back, sighs, and stares up at the underside of the canopy. "...you'll meet them all. Then you'll know why I'm crazy."

  "You're not crazy. You're fun and multidimensional. I love seeing this side of you and..." I reach for the button on her jeans. "...I'm ready to see another side of you."

  "Duncan?"

  "I told you, Kimbra, what I was going to do to you in your bedroom." I undo the button and lower the zipper. Without hesitation, she lifts her hips, allowing me to pull down her jeans as she throws her arm over her eyes. Once I have her jeans and skimpy excuse for panties removed, I stand up and move her arm. "No, you're going to watch." Her eyes widen. "Yes, Kimberly Ann, you're going to watch me go down on you. Watch how fucking great you taste, watch me devour your pussy, as I lick and bite." I smile as her lip disappears between her teeth, eyes sparkle, and hips writhe. "I'm going to make you scream my name, and everyone in this house will be jealous of you, even your
grandma."

  "Yeah, Grandma really likes you."

  I resume my place between her thighs, pushing them farther and farther apart until she's fully exposed. With just my words, she's already wet, and it's the most beautiful fucking sight I've ever seen.

  "Kimbra, this view will never get old." I stretch out my tongue and lap her folds. The creamy juice is better than any dessert her mother has downstairs.

  "Oh."

  I hold her hips as she tries to buck. "No, hold still and let me dig in."

  "Fuck." Her words are muffled.

  When I look up, our eyes meet. That's when I see the small stuffed dog she's holding, its paw in her mouth. At least she's doing as I said and watching. Again and again, I lap and suck. Small nips at her pussy, her clit, and her thighs. Using my fingers, I work her like an instrument, one finger and then two, bending them just right to hit her perfect spot, stringing her tighter and tighter. It's when I plunge one finger and then two into the tight ring of muscles that she loses it. Her essence covers my face, my chin. She screams my name, just like I promised.

  Once she's calmed, I climb up the bed, needing to kiss her and show her how fucking amazing she tastes.

  "Duncan?"

  I shake my head, pushing away the memories of last night and concentrate on Judy, Kimbra's mother.

  "Yes?"

  "How many eggs do you want?" she asks her question as she sets a platter of toast and another overflowing with bacon on the table.

  "Two. But really, I can help."

  "Nonsense, let Kimberly Ann take care of her man."

  My grin widens as I catch Kimbra out of the corner of my eye. My man she mouths and shakes her head.

  Currently she's wearing short shorts, a faded t-shirt, and her thick auburn hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. My nose twitches at the memory of her hair tickling my face as I held her through the night. She isn’t wearing any makeup and her feet are bare. She's more fucking beautiful than she was in that gold dress.

  "So you're my Kimberly Ann's boss?" Oscar, Kimbra's dad, asks.

  I take a deep breath. "Not technically. Kimbra works in the human resources department. She answers to a manager, not to me."

  "But you own the company?"

  I shrug. "Part of it."

  Oscar leans forward. "Son, what are your intentions?"

  "Dad!" Kimbra yells as she walks closer, carrying two plates, each with two eggs. "Here, Dad, eat some eggs and stop giving Duncan the third degree." She places a plate in front of him and gives his head a kiss before placing the other plate in front of me.

  "I just think he has some explaining to do."

  Kevin brings over his and Susan's plates and settles next to his wife, who's pretty quiet. She keeps looking in my general direction, but I've decided she just doesn't talk much. Maybe with this group, she doesn't get a chance.

  Judy comes near, carrying two more plates, one for Kimbra and one for herself, and sets them on the table. "Oscar, leave the poor boy alone. You don't want to stress him out. You know what happens to you when you're stressed. Remember what the doctor said."

  "Mom!" Kimbra and Kevin say in unison.

  "Stop it," Judy responds. "We're all adults. Your father and I have a very active sex life. The urologist said everything is normal, considering your dad's age."

  I almost choke on my eggs, but decide that studying the pattern of Judy's plates is more important than any eye contact bullshit I learned in business school.

  "Mom! Stop!" Kimbra pleads as Kevin coughs.

  I start to worry that I may need to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

  "Kevin, are you all right?" Judy turns to Kimbra. "Dear, it's okay. If Duncan gets stressed, just remember that toys are always a good option."

  Small, intricate blue flowers surround the plate. I suddenly wonder how many there are. I could count them. One, two, three…

  "Really, Mom," Kevin says, for the first time helping his sister.

  "They wouldn't hurt you and Susan either..."

  "Toys? What kind of toys are we talking about?"

  We all turn as Helen prances into the kitchen. She’s completely dressed in jeans, a bright t-shirt that says “Will work for coffee” and pink canvas high-tops. For a woman in her late seventies, she's surprisingly spry and trendy.

  "Judy," Helen says as she pours herself a cup of coffee, "please tell me we're not talking about your butt plug again."

  Groans and coughs fill the air as Kimbra reaches for my leg. "I'm so sorry," she whispers.

  "Not yet, but I was going to suggest it. I really like it." Judy turns toward the rest of the table. "I found it on Amazon. With Prime shipping it was here in a day. Oh! I know." Judy says, bouncing with excitement. "We can order another one and it will be here tomorrow. They deliver on weekends now. Soon, you know, they'll have those little drone things, and it will bring it right to our door. Kimberly, do you think that will help you and Duncan?"

  Before she can answer, Helen pipes up. "Judy, not everyone likes a plug up their ass. I, myself, am more of a vibrator girl."

  I drop my fork and close my eyes. I’ve lost count of the little blue flowers. I don't want to make this any worse, but my shoulders are shaking and tears are filling my eyes I'm laughing so hard.

  "Grandma!" Kimbra and Kevin plead in unison.

  "What?" Helen asks. "Amazon has those too, all sizes and shapes. Even pretty colors. You know when your grandfather was alive—"

  Kimbra stands and reaches for my hand as tears of laughter slide down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, everyone. I promised Duncan I'd show him around the farm."

  "Not the barn!" Oscar yells as she pulls me away from the kitchen. "Did you hear me? That's my barn. A man needs his space. I don't want to think that my daughter—"

  "Kimberly Ann," Judy calls. "You didn't let him finish his eggs. A man needs his strength. You can’t expect him to be able to—”

  I reach back for my bacon and toast with a quick nod. Though words are hard to form, I try my best to help Kimbra as I uncharacteristically interrupt her mother. "Thank you for the breakfast. I've heard the farm is very nice and I can’t wait to see it."

  "Not in the barn," Oscar repeats.

  "Not in the barn," Kimbra calls back over her shoulder as she slips on flip-flops and pulls me through the front door. The screen slams as we walk toward the steps.

  Looking toward the long driveway and out to the fields, we take in the light haze hovering just above the ground. It seems to have left the grass moist with dew. Above the haze the sun is brightening. I take a deep breath. The air is fresh and clear. It's almost as if you can even taste the cleanliness.

  Now free from the others' ears, I let my laughter ring.

  It’s so loud, my chest aches. I love my parents, but I can't imagine a conversation like that ever occurring. Not that I want to imagine my mom or dad with sex toys—or that they even know what they are—but seriously.

  Kimbra doesn't speak as she pulls my hand and we traipse down the steps and through the wet grass, past the side of the barn, and toward a row of trees. "Where are we going?" I finally ask once I've stopped laughing and am able to form words.

  "Away. Anywhere but in there. Maybe if we get to the woods, it'll be so dark that I won’t have to look at you."

  We make it halfway down the path that has now led us beyond the barn. I tug her to a stop and reach for her chin. Pulling her gaze to mine, I do my best to sound stern. "Why don't you want to look at me?"

  "Are you serious?" She shakes her head and asks me again. "Are you serious?"

  I kiss her nose. "You're gorgeous. Your family is hilarious. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

  "Were you just there? Did you just hear my grandma talk about vibrators?"

  I nod. "And your mom talk about butt plugs."

  Kimbra scrunches her nose. "Oh, if I ever thought I might...now, no. Just no!"

  I laugh again. "Now, don't be so quick to decide. With Amazon Prime—"

&nb
sp; She hits my shoulder playfully. "Don't even suggest it."

  "I can't wait to meet the rest of this family. The Joneses are much more exciting than the Willises ever were or have been."

  She leads me to a downed tree and we sit on the rough bark. My gym shorts do little to stop the wood from prickling my ass.

  "Not all of them," Kimbra explains. "I told you my cousin Scarlett is perfect. Well, her side of the family wouldn't say fuck if their lives depended on it. One time Kevin got them to play Cards Against Humanity just so he could hear our aunt cuss."

  "So we won't be discussing sex toys at the wedding reception? Because I have the Amazon Prime app on my phone—"

  "No! We have a rule. Mom is pretty good, unless she's had too much wine. Dad, well, he isn't usually the one. It's Grandma. If anyone starts discussing something inappropriate, anything that shouldn't be said around that side of the family, we clear our throats. If that doesn't work, we start coughing. Anything to drown out whatever one of them could be saying."

  I reach over and walk my fingers from Kimbra's knee to the hem of her short shorts. "Inappropriate. I believe I was recently told that I was inappropriate."

  "Yes, Mr. Willis, you were."

  I move my fingers toward the crotch of her shorts. "All I asked you was if you came. You never answered me."

  "Not that day," she replies with a grin while at the same time stopping my hand's upward progress. "But thanks to my boyfriend, who's no longer shitty, the last twenty-four hours have been off the charts."

  I wiggle my eyebrows and lift her hand that stopped mine. "Off the charts?" I kiss her knuckles. "I'm glad to hear I'm improving. I'm willing to add more data to your analysis."

  "That's mighty kind of you."

  I shake my head. "As altruistic as you may think I'm being, I'm not."

  Kimbra giggles. "It was the shitty boyfriend comment, wasn't it?"

  "That's part of it."

  "How many times have you, Duncan Willis, been called a shitty boyfriend?"

  "To my face?" I ask.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kimbra