Keep It Classy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 7)

There was a long silence, and then, “Yes.”

“Do you have any questions?” I asked.

There was a long pause, and then he said, “I guess it’d be better hearing it from you rather than my sister. I don’t want to make her cry. Go ahead and tell me everything that happened last night.”

So I did, starting at the very beginning to where I’d taken Turner home with me because she’d lost her keys, all the way until about an hour ago when I’d come in and she’d told me about her father calling her lost and sad.

“Has she been to check on my father yet today?” he asked.

I shook my head and said, “They’re going over to the funeral home after the wedding to hammer out the details.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat.

“I’m on a mission,” he said bluntly. “I looked you up. You know about this kind of stuff. I won’t be home for at least another four days. And that’s if this goes well. If this goes bad, it could be even longer.”

I looked over at Turner, whose smile was a little bit weaker now, and realized that this wasn’t going to be good news for her.

“Are you going to be able to talk to your sister in a few minutes?” I asked.

He grunted out a negative sound.

“No,” he said. “And this phone number won’t be able to be called back, either. I wasn’t even supposed to make this call. But I had to make sure.”

I understood that.

“I’ll talk to her. Make her understand.”

“Thanks,” he muttered out. “’Preciate it.”

Then he was gone.

I sighed and shoved her phone into my pocket, then crossed my arms over my chest and thought about what I would need to do.

I wouldn’t allow her to go to her mother’s funeral planning by herself.

From the sound of it, her father wouldn’t be able to offer any input, and she’d need someone there to help.

I also had to meet up with Easton at eight this evening to discuss a couple of strategies that we’d come up with on the cases that we were working on, and I couldn’t get out of that.

But I also didn’t want to leave Turner alone to wallow in her thoughts.

I’d have to ask her to come with me.

Twenty minutes later, as I explained to her what her brother had said, she’d deflated even more.

It was like a shadow of the girl that had fought with me when I’d given her that ticket just a short time ago.

We were in a small room, completely closed off from the wedding that was going on just beyond the walls, and she was lost again.

Then again, I didn’t think she’d ever been found. I’d just held her hand through the darkness, acting like a Band-Aid for just a short time.

Then she was in my arms, and she was wrapping herself around me.

I turned around and sat down on the couch that was where I’d seen the ladies getting dressed around earlier, pulling her with me.

She moved and wiggled until her dress was up around her thighs, and then straddled me as she continued to cry into my chest.

I had to tell myself not to get excited, that she wasn’t doing this because she liked me or anything, but because she was sad.

But my dick wouldn’t listen.

That was about the time that I started to count to a thousand by threes, trying to keep my cock under control.

It didn’t work, because she turned so that her mouth was pressed to my neck.

Her hands were around my back, and her knees rested on either side of my hips.

Her fingernails were digging into my back, through the crappy shirt I was wearing and making me forget how uncomfortable it was.

And her sobs were causing her to jerk back and forth on top of me.

You’re going to hell, Castiel. Get control of yourself! I ordered myself.

It didn’t work.

I was still getting hard, and harder by the second.

“I just want to forget,” she said. “Just for a little bit.”

At first, I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I was still talking to my dick and telling it to get control, and I hadn’t put much thought into how she was no longer crying anymore.

Her mouth was also pressed against my neck in a different way, and she was now actively grinding herself against me.

I was also painfully hard and very aware that she was hot and slick against me.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn’t good.

This wasn’t good at all.

I really needed to put her off of my lap. Just pick her up, set her gently against the couch, and stand up. Put some distance between us and get myself under control.

But I wouldn’t leave her.

I didn’t want her to feel rejected.

Because I was most certainly not rejecting her.