A Graceful Mess Read online

  “Damn, that was amazing. We’ll be doing that again in the future.”

  “It was amazing.” We lie sprawled out on the mattress panting for a few minutes until our erratic breathing regulates.

  “So what is the Reddi-whip for?”

  “Our next adventure. Are you ready?”

  As I’ll ever be.

  “Sure, babe.”

  “Put on the blindfold and lie on your back, please.” She leans over the edge of the bed and grabs the black blindfold. The first time she let me do anal, she wore it. She said she felt embarrassed and didn’t want me to see her. I don’t know how the blindfold helped; I could still see her and damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell wearing nothing but that. I guess it was more she didn’t want to see me, which was fine. She took me, all of me, and enjoyed every second of it. But tonight isn’t about that kind of play. Tonight is more about pleasing her, and while she does enjoy it in the back door, I think I do more. Tonight I want her to relax and block out the world. The only way I know to do that is with the blindfold.

  “No peeking this time.” Being her lawyer self she is always trying to be in charge. I caught her peeking a few times before and had to punish her. Who would’ve thought a few quick spankings on her bare ass would’ve turned her on?

  That night was amazing.

  That night I really pushed her limits and even brought out my toy box. She loved every second of everything we did. Grace baffles me, but keeps me on my toes. That is another reason why I fucking love her. Just imagining my life with someone who is into the same things as I am, in the bedroom and outside of it, makes me want to propose tonight. I will, soon, but not tonight of all nights when we lie here fucking like rabbits celebrating the sentencing of her psycho ex.

  A few weeks ago I finally came clean to my parents and Carson. I knew Carson wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest about our relationship. The thing that shocked him was the trailing part. Since he doesn’t technically ever work in the office, he wasn’t aware of the situation. The look of betrayal on his face made me physically feel ill. It was like a little sample of the hurt I would install in Grace, if she ever found out. My father on the other hand didn’t look surprised in the slightest. Mad, yes. Surprised, no. He actually looked like a raging fucking bull. He said he knew from the moment I opened her file I was headed down a bad path.

  “I watched your eyes as you stared at her photo. How fucking stupid could you be, mixing business with pleasure? I’ve told you boys that…well, forever, and yet here you are doing the thing I warned you not to do.”

  “You don’t think I know how fucked up this situation is? She has no clue I’m hiding this giant secret from her. Dad, I know I screwed up by letting her get to me. I know I should have stayed away; hell, I tried, but I couldn’t. Blame me, scream, yell, do whatever you have to, it won’t change things. It won’t change my feelings towards her.” I recollect the conversation, the disappointment in my father’s eyes, the way he talked about me like I wasn’t standing there, saying the business this, the business that.

  Then I got shot and my reaction to her whereabouts in the hospital only confirmed his suspicions. I really care about her and I think he is finally coming to peace with it. Yes, he ignored me and acted like an ass for a few days, but there isn’t anything he can do about who I’m with.

  Everything else seems to be playing out as expected. Soon I will be meeting Grace’s parents and if all goes well, I will ask her to marry me. The only damper on my plan is the little fact that I am working for her biological father and what better way to start off our life together than with a lie. That is for sure not going to happen, so I need to figure out when to tell her about all of this. I really just hope that she doesn’t hate me, or worse, break up with me. I know the news is going to kill her. It’s not just about me and my job, but the adoption and the weird ass connection she and Brody have. That will all come out, if not now, then eventually. What if I kept all of these secrets? I know it would eat away at me, and I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face when the truth finally came out. Which we know it will. No secrets stay hidden forever.

  “Parker, are you okay? What’s on your mind?” Peering up I see Grace staring down at me with the sweetest smile.

  “Nothing, sweetheart. Put the blindfold back on and lean back. I won’t tell you when to come this time, okay? When you’re ready, just let it go.”

  “Okay,” she whispers as she leans backwards. Once her back is resting against the mattress I open the can of Reddi-whip. The sweet taste makes me want to open my mouth and spray it in, filling it up, but I refrain. I shake it up good and then cover Grace’s nipple with the cold cream. She laughs.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s so cold, Parker. You better be planning on licking it off.”

  “You know I am. Now shut those pretty little lips and enjoy yourself. Turn off that smart brain of yours and just let the pleasure of my mouth on that hard, little nipple fill your thoughts.”

  Lowering my mouth, my tongue flicks her nipple. Reddi-whip flies off of it and lands on her chest. I see her hand rise in an attempt to wipe it off.

  “Tsk, tsk. Do you want me to handcuff you or will you be still?”

  “Don’t tease me, Park. You know I liked the handcuffs. Something about you having total control over me makes me really horny.” We both know it does. Another reason to add to the ever growing list of why I love her. One day I am going to see if she will fully submit to me. Not now, but one day. These little games we’ve been playing all summer are getting her ready. It isn’t something I want to live by or do every day, but in the bedroom, I need control. It fucking makes my dick rock hard knowing I am fully in control.

  “Not today. I just want to please you, so stop moving and lie still for me.” She doesn’t move another inch. Bending in front of her, my thumb pulls back the white nozzle as cream sprays onto her stomach. Making a trail to her pussy, I use the cream as a map. Not that I’d need one, but she looks sexy as hell. My mouth waters as I fight to keep my composure, waiting to lick the whipped cream off of her. Surrendering to the urge, I lower my lips and lick her body starting at her nipples and moving south. The taste of her sweet body mixed with the cream, makes me hungry for something more. I hover over her opening before diving in and succumbing to my desire to have my face buried in her clit. It doesn’t take long before her back is arching and her hands find my hair. Tugging lightly she screams and then finds her release. That alone, tastes better than the Reddi-whip.

  My body goes limp as Parker rolls off of me and onto the sheets beneath our naked bodies. Four times in a row seems like a lot to the average person, but Parker is like the Energizer Bunny. He could keep going, and going, and going.

  “Parker, do you know how much I love you?” There is no way in the world he doesn’t know, but I feel like he showers me with kindness and I want him to know he is just as important to me, if not more.

  “No.” He sticks out his bottom lip as he turns on his side to face me, pouting like a child who just had their favorite toy taken away. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart is like the magic word. Whatever he says, if he ends it in “sweetheart” it’s like my brain instantly shuts off and his will is my desire. I think he knows it too and plays it to his advantage. No one would ever guess the resident body builder was really a softy, but my Parker is super emotional. It makes his bad boy image that much sexier to me, because I know the real Parker. The Parker underneath it all.

  “Well, I love you more than all the trees in the world.”

  “Oh, how original. How about something like, ‘Parker, I love you more than all the people on the planet.’ Now that’s a good one.”

  “Whatever. Mine was so much better. How about why? Why do you love me Parker Porter?”

  “You don’t know the answer to that?” I shake my head from side to side.

  “Nope.”

  “Sure you do.
I loved you from the moment I saw you. You were wearing that short teal dress and every guy in the damn bar was eyeing you. I wanted to rip off my shirt like the Hulk and beat every single one of them to a pulp, but I knew you were worth all of my attention, not them.”

  “Go on.”

  “Want to know a secret?”

  “Is it a good one?”

  “Oh yes. You might die from laughter after hearing this one.”

  “Okay. Do tell.”

  “That night, after I made sure you made it to the elevator, I went back to my truck and whacked off thinking about you.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I so did, and it felt so fucking good.”

  “Ohmigod! That’s why you were so out of breath when I came to get my purse. I thought you were sick.”

  “Don’t you dare tell a soul. I mean it, Grace. Not even Maci! Do you know how bad she would make fun of me, and Lord knows she would for sure tell Ramsey.”

  “I won’t tell. Park, stop tickling me. Ohmigod, I am going to pee. Stop!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but pinky promise you won’t tell.”

  “Give me your pinky, you little girl. I won’t tell a soul, okay?”

  “Now how about some turtle cheesecake?

  “That sounds good. Is it homemade?”

  “Are you kidding me? I got it in the freezer aisle at the grocery store.”

  “And here I thought you made dinner from scratch.”

  “Dinner, yes. Dessert, no.”

  “Come on,” I say while holding my hand out to his. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

  “Turn off the light… come on, I’m sleepy,” I whimper while stretching in bed. Whining isn’t attractive, but I think we are past that point in our relationship. I know it has only been a short period of time, but I feel like we have been together forever. Every day he does or says something new and sweet. There is never a dull moment, which makes things that much better. I know without a doubt if we were together for a hundred years we would never get tired of each other. The thought makes me feel like a little girl. I’m not big on the whole relationship in your face, PDA type stuff, but with Parker I want to stand on the roof top and shout he is mine. I pray that feeling never goes away, but why would it? Brody is gone now, and there is nothing that could ever separate us.

  Life is perfect.

  “Scoot over, sweetheart. Thank you. Goodnight, I love you.” Moving my head, I rest it on his chest. My finger grazes his skin as I draw small imaginary circles on his chest.

  “What are you doing? I thought you were so sleepy,” he whispers as he turns his head to face me. The room is dark, but I can faintly see his face.

  “I am, trust me. You wore me out tonight, but I don’t know…there’s something I can’t shake.”

  “Tell me about it.” He reaches his hand out and caresses my cheek. His touch puts me at ease.

  “Well, you know I was on campus today to register for classes and stuff.”

  “Yup, and?”

  “I guess there was some kind of campaigning going on or what not. I don’t know, I think the man’s name is Mark Jacobs. Anyhow, he looked at me. Like right at me, out of all the people in the crowd. I wasn’t even watching him, but just walking by and his eyes caught my attention and held me in place. Parker, his eyes were the same shade of blue as mine. I don’t know why I am making such a big deal of it. He is no one to me. Sure, I’ve seen him on the news once or twice, but I don’t personally know him, but for some reason I feel like I do.”

  Parker’s body tenses under mine, and I can tell he is holding his breath because my finger stops rising and falling as his chest hardens.

  “Do you know him or something?” I ask. He clears his throat before answering me. The shift in our conversation suddenly feels ominous.

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’ve seen him on TV once or twice, but no, I don’t know him personally.”

  “Hmm…okay. Well, it was just a bizarre encounter, that’s all. Get some sleep, babe. Goodnight.”

  Unsure of what to make of the sudden awkward silence in the room, I drift off to sleep thinking about the same color piercing blue eyes as mine.

  Looking over at the nightstand, the clock shines four-thirty a.m. in red numbers. I have been tossing and turning all night. Deciding to get up and grab a glass of water, I slowly move Parker’s arm from across my body and slide out of bed and out the door. Tiptoeing down the hallway into the kitchen, I open the cabinet and fill up a cup with cool tap water. The silence in the house is comforting, but tonight for some reason I can’t seem to relax. Josie is lying across the couch so I decide to sit out here with her for a while. Maybe petting her will relax me enough to fall asleep. Sitting on the couch, I stare outside into the darkness. I don’t know how Parker lives out here all the way in the boonies. Don’t get me wrong the cottage is nice. He has done a wonderful job on the inside, but it is so secluded. It would freak me out being all alone here. My mind continues to wander as I feel something rub against my leg. Jumping up suddenly, I bend down and look around the cushion and floor near the couch. I don’t see a bug or anything, but instead a small notebook sticking out of the cushions. Bending to pick it up, my eyes squint in the darkness to read the small initial on the cover.

  B

  Why is this here? I took all of the letters and notes Brody had written back to my parents.

  Holding the leather notebook in my hand, my stomach feels queasy. I do not want to read anymore strange letters about how he loved me. I wonder why the journal is here though; I thought I took everything back with me and that the police kept all of the original documents? Opening the cover and flipping through the pages, I can tell it’s some sort of diary. Each page has an entry that is dated and signed. Some pages are shorter than others, but most of them are filled with ink from top to bottom. My eyes skim the words.

  Grace is mine.

  That little virgin is getting it hard tonight.

  Why God, why does she even love me? I am a disgrace.

  Reading the words written from his hand is almost as bad as hearing his voice. It’s like my brain reads the sentences as he meant for them to be spoken. Feeling creeped out, I shut the journal and set it on the table. The contents are nothing I don’t already know. Brody Hendricks is a sick, sick man. Giving Josie a kiss on the head, I make my way back down the hallway and crawl in bed with Parker.

  I’d like to blame the crickets and owls for keeping me awake, but I know they aren’t at fault. The journal, the harsh words written are taunting me. Every time I close my eyes it’s like Brody is standing right in front of me. To make matters worse, once I finally drift off I have that stupid dream again, the one that plays in my mind on repeat. I don’t know where I am, but I am so scared. Of a storm, I think. I am crying out…for Brody.

  My body jolts up as I fight the tangled sheets that surround me. Parker hushes me as he turns on his side and enjoys his peaceful slumber. Making my way out of the bedroom, I fight the urge to sprint down the hall. Knowing what waits for me at the end of the hallway scares me to death, but the simple fact that the closure I so long for might be waiting at the end is worth my sleepless night. Josie follows me step by step until we both reach the couch. There it is, the journal, resting on the coffee table where I left it. A strange mix of emotions fills the air around me. It’s like my brain is shouting at me, it doesn’t want me to open it, but my gut is telling me to. For some reason, I feel like I have to open it. My heart is lying down the hall, sleeping, but what if I’ve been tainted by Brody? What if one day I wake up and I am as crazy as he was? Like he marked me and plagued my life. Fighting the thoughts of what if, I know it’s either now or never. Bending down, my legs rest against the edge of the couch cushion as my arm reaches in front of me and picks up the journal. The material is worn. You can tell at one time the color was a much richer chocolate. My fingers graze the pages reminding me that at one time Brody sat for God knows how long and filled these pages
. Shivers run down my spine and I open the cover and take a deep breath.

  The first few pages are filled with little drawings. Like a child’s notebook would be. By the seventh page there is a date, and words. Words that remind me of a place. A place that reminds me of my dream.

  March 13, 1996

  I leave tomorrow. I am going to miss is my best friend. She keeps crying on the playground. I wish she was coming with me.

  Goodbye orphanage, goodbye Grace.

  B

  Confusion overwhelms me as lightning strikes in the distance. The light flickers as Josie scoots closer to me, and lays her head on my thigh. She hates storms almost as much as I do.

  Brody had a childhood friend named Grace. What are the chances of that?

  Inquisitiveness pulls me by my fingertips, and helps me flip the page.

  March 15, 1996

  Yesterday was the worst day of my life. I would rather her be adopted, instead of me.

  B

  My brain doesn’t have time to comprehend the words as my fingers quickly flip through pages.

  August 19, 2001

  Starting high school in another place, another town, another piece of shit home, blows. Actually it more than blows, it sucks big donkey dick and this foster family is so uptight. Here goes nothing, welcome to Iowa City High School.

  B

  Bile rises in my throat.

  Iowa City High School?

  There has to be some other explanation.

  No, no, please God. Please don’t tell me this is true. Does this…does this mean he knew me before high school?

  Thunder crashes in the distance as lightning strikes causing me to jump. The journal fumbles out of my hands and falls to the floor below my feet. A small, rectangular photo falls out of the pages and lands beside it. A photo of me, when I was younger holding a small stuffed animal. The picture has been torn and pieced back together with tape, but there is no denying it. It’s my photo. I don’t even have to pick it up off the floor to recognize the face on it. Fighting back tears, I bend on my knees and kneel on the floor. The worn binding calls to me. A voice I wish I could ignore deep within me has to know more. I sit staring at the journal for a few seconds, having an internal debate with myself. Questions fill my mind, but I can’t process them. Nothing makes sense.