The Bluetooth announces over the radio in my car that “Mom is calling,” in that robotic voice. An instant boner killer, and for once I’m not upset about it.
“Hey, Momma,” I say into the cab of my truck. Marlie never answered me about eating with my family, and I’m not pushing the topic. Still, after the meeting with my brothers and sister, I called the woman who has loads more experience in the relationship department than all five of us put together, plus she’s a wealth of knowledge.
“Hi, Tanner, are you still planning on being at dinner tonight?” Every Sunday, like clockwork, all of us kids are there unless we work overtime, and even that rarely happens. I know what she’s after, though.
“Have I missed one on purpose yet?”
“Well, there was that one time, but that was all of you boys. The only one who showed up was Leena,” she harrumphs.
“If I remember correctly, Dad wasn’t there either because we all had to pull double-duty on the job sites. Might wanna try again and ask me what you’re really after.” A smile takes over my face, and I end the sentence with a chuckle.
“I never could get anything past you. Fine. I’m asking, is Marlie making a grand appearance tonight? And it’s not like I’m asking for more grandchildren, you know.”
“It won’t be this week. Taking things slow, Ma. I don’t want to screw this up between Marlie and me.” Even if it’s killing me in the process. And from the way Marlie acts, it might be worse for her.
“Yeah, I hear you. Then I’ll let it rest, for now. What are you doing? I hear the noise of the road in the background. Not working at the office?”
“Not today. Worked enough this week. Marlie wants to check out the shelter, so I’m on my way to pick her up. What about you and Dad? Anything exciting happening?” Leena was going to talk to Mom about working in the office, and I’ve already got Dad on board, but in case she hasn’t brought it up yet, I don’t want to mention it.
“Grocery shopping to feed my brood, which by the way, do you have a request? It is your turn this week.” Each Sunday, one of us gets a request. Last week was Dad’s, so now it starts at me and works its way down.
“That’s a tough one. I do know I could go for some banana pudding for dessert.” I’m going through the inventory of favorites, which isn’t hard. Mom always made sure we were well fed even when she came home from working a long day.
“That’s a given. What about meatloaf?” she suggests.
“Sounds good to me. I’m about to pull into Marlie’s driveway. Love you, Ma,” I tell her.
“Love you, son of mine. Have fun, and get her sitting at my table soon.” She clicks off the line. I do the same as I park in Marlie’s driveway. This time, I don’t delay by sitting in my truck. The excitement to see her has me jumping out , heading up the stairs of her front porch, and knocking on her front door, probably harder than need be. I step back, hands sliding into my pockets, completely unprepared for what happens when her door opens.
“Christ almighty.” Nothing she’s wearing is provocative in any stretch of the imagination—another loose top hanging off her shoulder, this time with a lacey strap that gives me a glimpse of what’s underneath, her legs are encased in black leggings, and on her feet are basic sneakers.
“What’s wrong?” Instead of responding, I cup her cheeks, and with my lips on hers, I march her backwards. My foot catches the door and slams it shut, and the second the wall meets her back, I’m wedged between her legs.
“Tanner.” I don’t even have to coax Marlie to get that taste of her I’m after.
“Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.” My hands move to help her, grabbing her ass and letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
“Don’t you dare stop this time.” My tongue licks at her lower lip. I watch as her eyes close. I’m too weak to deny her this time.
“Oh, I’m not.” I pull my mouth from hers. She groans her annoyance, but she won’t much longer, not with how I’m sliding my fingers down the length of her torso, gathering her shirt to get it out of my way.
“Oh God, yes, please.” Smooth skin meets my rough fingers as I glide them inside her sinful-as-fuck leggings, almost losing my shit when I realize she’s fucking bare. A small scarcely-there thatch of curls has me stopping in my tracks, wanting me to get down on my knees, rip her leggings to shreds, and see it with my own two eyes. I don’t, though, not this time at least.