Porter Read online

  I shut the door when she’s gone and lock it. Again.

  Frankee pulls the sheet over her face and groans. “Oh my God. That was the single most humiliating moment of my life. I’m not even kidding. I sleep farted in class when I was in the tenth grade, and it wasn’t that embarrassing. I want this bed to open up and swallow me.”

  I slide under the covers, so we’re both under the sheet. “It’s okay. We’re dating. My mom isn’t surprised to find out we’re having sex.”

  “She might expect us to have sex but probably not when I’m a guest in her house. She probably thinks I’m a big ole slut.”

  “I promise you she does not think you’re a slut. She likes you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know my mom. And because she winked at me when she kissed me goodnight and told me to carry on. She wouldn’t have said that if she was mad or upset.”

  Frankee throws the covers back. “Your nephews heard me orgasm. That’s sickening.”

  “Well, at least you got to come. That fucking RAAWR in my ear put an end to me getting off. My cock went down like a deflating balloon. And I was so close too. Right on the edge.” Those kids are like a double dose of limp dick.

  “I’d offer to finish you off but I’m done. Your nephews are mood killers.”

  “It’s okay. The little cock blockers killed it for me too. I’d probably have flashbacks of the RAAWR if I tried to get it up again.”

  She rolls onto her side, and I drape my arm over her body when she backs up and nestles against me. “This is enough for me, baby. Just holding you.”

  I think I could stay this way with her forever.

  “I’m glad you got to meet me while I still have my hair. While I still look like some semblance of myself.”

  Kit has a beautiful headful of blond hair. It’s a shame she’s going to lose it. “Have you decided to cut it or wait and see what happens?”

  “I don’t know. What did your mom do?”

  That day is still fresh in my mind. “She chose to cut hers. She felt like the transition from long hair to no hair would be less abrupt if she went short first. And it was more practical to lose short hair rather than chunks of long. And let me tell you, she went down to the salon and had them style it into the sassiest little pixie cut I’ve ever seen. It was adorable. When her hair grew back, she chose to keep the pixie cut rather than let it grow long again. It looks great on her.”

  “I’m already seeing a little come out. When should I expect the rest to fall out?”

  It’s been almost two weeks since her first treatment. “It’s different for everyone but probably later this week. Maybe early next week.”

  Kit stares into her coffee cup. “It’s inevitable. I should just do it.”

  “Only when you’re ready.”

  “I don’t have any other choice but to be ready. If I can get an appointment today, will you go to the salon with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Porter comes into the kitchen, still wearing last night’s sleep pants but he’s added a T-shirt to his attire. His hair resembles a rooster’s comb the way it’s sticking up in every direction.

  He comes up behind me and grasps the sides of my face, planting a kiss on the top of my head, bringing a broad smile to Kit’s face. “What’s wrong with you? You never get up before me.”

  Well, if Kit didn’t know we spend the night together, she does now.

  “I don’t know. I woke up at six and smelled coffee, so I got up.”

  Porter goes to the coffee maker and pours a cup. “You probably couldn’t sleep because you were having nightmares about those two little shits popping out from under the bed like a scene from a Stephen King movie. I ought to go into their bedroom and roar at their asses this morning.”

  “Don’t you dare. Frankee and I are enjoying our coffee and our conversation. The peace and quiet will come to an abrupt halt when they get up.”

  “What time is Alexis coming to get them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not putting up with them showing their asses today. They can behave or she can come get them and take them home to act like heathens.” One thing’s clear. He isn’t a fan of children misbehaving.

  “Porter…”

  “I’m not kidding, Mom. We came to spend time with you. Not babysit Alexis’s kids so she and Clay can take it easy.”

  “She’s going to need to come get them early because Frankee and I have plans for today. We’re going to the salon. She’s going to help me choose a haircut.”

  “You’re going to cut all of it off?”

  “Most of it.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “My hair is going to fall out soon—either this week or the next. It’s better to cut it before it starts. This way, I can get a cute haircut and at least feel good about myself for a little while.”

  “I’ve never seen you with short hair.”

  Fear. Sadness. Concern. Porter’s expression is a mix of all three. Kit doesn’t need to see that. Not when she’s working toward being in a positive place.

  I lift my brows and nod at Porter. “Your mom’s gonna look sassy with a pixie cut. It’ll be cute.”

  He forces a smile. “Better not get too sassy.”

  The news of Kit’s cancer is still fresh for Porter. It’s understandable that he doesn’t know how to handle these issues in the most positive way for her. There isn’t a guidebook for how to deal with cancer. But I’m going to be by his side—doing whatever I can—every step of the way.

  The hairdresser applies a little pomade throughout the top of Kit’s hair and makes it spike at the crown. “What do you think?”

  Kit inhales deeply and releases her breath slowly. She smiles when she reaches up to touch her short locks but her pleasant expression doesn’t mask the sadness in her eyes. “I like it.”

  I don’t know Kit so I can’t tell if she really does, or she’s just saying that.

  “It’s spunky. I love it.”

  “Well, I have always been a little spunky, so I guess it fits me.”

  We leave the salon and she pulls down the sun visor and inspects her hair in the mirror. “I’m sixty-two years old. You’d think I’d be over caring so much about my appearance.”

  “A woman should always care about her appearance, no matter her age.”

  “Gabe likes my hair long. That’s why I’ve never cut it above my chin.”

  Gabe and Kit have been married a long time. It’s sweet that she still wants him to find her attractive.

  “My dad liked my mom’s hair long too, but I think he prefers it short now.”

  “How old is your mom?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “Thirty-eight? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  She chuckles. “Well, I guess Porter is a cradle robber. How old did that make you when you met him?”

  “I was sixteen.”

  “And he was twenty-five. That shit-ass wasn’t robbing the cradle back then, was he?”

  I love hearing her call him shit-ass. “Absolutely not. I had a huge crush on him, but that’s as far as it went.”

  “You’ve liked Porter for a long time.”

  “Five years.” Almost a quarter of my life.

  “He looks happy with you. I’m glad you’re back in his life.”

  “Me too.”

  “He said you were an intern. What does that mean exactly?”

  “I’m only working at Lovibond for three months.”

  “Well, I don’t guess you have to be Porter’s employee in order to continue your relationship.”

  No. But I do have to be in his life. And I won’t be after September.

  No need to keep the truth from Kit. “I’m moving to Texas after my internship ends at Lovibond.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m sure Porter is too. I can tell that he likes you. A lot.”

  “I like him too. A little mor
e every day.”

  “Texas isn’t going anywhere. Maybe you should stay in Birmingham and see what happens.”

  “Porter hasn’t expressed an interest in me staying.”

  “It’s not September yet.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Staying. Is that something I’d consider? Giving up the life and plans I’ve made with my best friends for the guy I’ve been sleeping with? For the guy I’m falling in love with.

  I’m not sure.

  But my gut tells me I’ll be heartbroken if he lets me walk away.

  Kit closes the visor. “Well, are we ready to see everyone’s reaction to this hair?”

  “I know I am.”

  Porter wasn’t happy about his mom’s decision to cut her hair but that’s because he doesn’t comprehend what’s going to happen in the upcoming weeks. That’s something he and I need to talk about, so he’ll know what to expect. Especially since he won’t be there with his mom. I think it’ll help him feel better connected if he has an understanding of what she’s facing.

  Frankee: We’re on the way home. It’s short but she’s ok w/ it.

  Porter: Did she cry when they cut it off?

  Frankee: She looked sad, but she didn’t cry.

  Frankee: Don’t worry. She’s going to be ok.

  Frankee: And you’re going to be ok.

  Frankee: Don’t act sad when you see it. Even if you are.

  Frankee: She needs to see you be ok with it.

  Frankee: It’ll be an easier transition for her if you seem all right with the change.

  Porter: I can do that for her.

  Frankee: I know you can. XO

  I feel Kit’s apprehension when we enter the house. Even if I couldn’t sense it, her uneasiness becomes tangible when she takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

  “No worries. They’re going to love it.”

  “And if they don’t, it’s going to be gone soon enough anyway.”

  I’m a bit on edge myself. I did what I could to prepare Porter but seeing his mom for the first time in his entire life without her long hair is going to be a shock for him.

  I went to the salon with my mom, and I remember that moment when they spun her around in the chair. Can’t lie. It was when my brain registered that my mom had cancer, and it was real and it was happening. No more denial.

  Gabe. I don’t know him at all. I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing his wife’s hair gone, but I hope he has the same grace my dad had.

  Porter and Gabe are in the living room watching television. “Well…” Kit touches her hair as they turn to look at her. “It’s gone.”

  The lines that were on Porter’s forehead earlier are gone. And I know he’s going to be okay. “I like it.”

  Gabe holds out his arms. “Come here.”

  Kit goes to him, and he pulls her onto his lap. He puts his mouth to her ear and whispers something that brings a huge smile to her face. “Gabe Beckman…”

  I guess that means he likes it.

  Porter gets up and tugs on my hand, my cue to follow him to his bedroom. “They look like they need a minute. Could I talk you into taking a ride with me on the four-wheeler?”

  My family rides four-wheelers all the time. “Sure.”

  “We should probably put on old clothes. I’ve been known to hit a mudhole or two.”

  “I didn’t bring anything old.”

  “You can put on something of mine.”

  I look like a freaking homeless person when we walk out the door. “I hope we don’t run into anybody. They’ll offer to take me down to the local soup kitchen.”

  “You look fine. But doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not going to see anyone where we’re going.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Into the woods.”

  I put on the helmet Porter gives me and climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Better hold on tightly. I like it rough.”

  “I’ve ridden with my brothers. You don’t scare me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Porter is a fucking speed demon. A daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. He hit every mudhole he saw and jumped every hill in sight. My brothers have nothing on his ass.

  He stops the four-wheeler and turns off the engine. “I think this will be just fine.”

  “For what?”

  He chuckles. “Checking you for ticks. Come sit in front of me.”

  I put my foot on the ground and swing my leg over to swap places with Porter.

  “No. Sit the other way so you’re facing me.”

  Oh. I see where he’s going with this. “You want to make out?”

  “I want to do way more than make out.”

  For real? He wants to fuck out here in the woods on this four-wheeler? “You must truly think you don’t have a shot with me later tonight.”

  “I could tell that you didn’t feel comfortable doing it in my parents’ house last night.”

  “It’s just a little weird to me. Feels disrespectful because I don’t know them at all.”

  “Got it. It’s okay. But I’m really horny. There’s no way I can hold out until Sunday night.”

  “I won’t make you hold out.” I push down the shorts and panties I’m wearing. “I’m not even going to make you work for it. You can just fuck me. Right here. Right now.”

  “Will you bend over and let me have it from behind?”

  The boy loves getting it from behind. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He comes off the four-wheeler and walks around so he’s standing behind me. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the side of my neck. “You are the best girlfriend ever.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that because I’m letting you bend me over a four-wheeler in the middle of the woods.”

  One of his hands slides between my legs and moves back and forth. “I’m not kidding. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you.”

  He pulls me against him and my back presses against his front. His erection pokes against my ass. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. All the fucking time. I stay hard for you.”

  He pushes my hair away from my neck and kisses that sensitive spot in the bend of my shoulder. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. No fucking lie. It’s unreal how much I want you.”

  Those words. His mouth against my skin. His erection pressed against me. All of it has me dripping wet for him. “No more than I want you.”

  His fingers curl around my mound and the tips dip into the slick center. “You’re so fucking wet. Soaking.”

  “I only get wet for you.”

  He slides a finger through my slickness and back up once in a slow, torturous stroke. My hips have a mind of their own as they rock against his hand, which simultaneously makes my ass rub against his cock.

  He stops sliding his finger up and down and rubs my clit—what the girls and I call a slut button—in a circular motion. Seriously one of the best sensations in the world.

  “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t ever stop doing that.”

  His fingers curl and move in a jerky side to side motion. He’s rubbing my clit and that needy spot just inside my entrance. “Oh God. Keep doing that. I’m so close.”

  He squeezes me tightly and dry humps his cock so hard against my ass that my feet shove forward on the ground with every thrust. The only thing keeping me sort of in place is my arms locked on the four-wheeler.

  “Ohh… Porter… ohh.”

  A familiar warm twitch pulsates between my legs. And then it happens a second time and a third. The rhythmic contractions happen again and again, pushing me over the edge into a world of pleasure I’ve only known with him.

  “I can’t go another minute without having you. I need to be inside you. Now.”

  I feel him working on his jeans and then the tip of his cock is at my entrance from behind. “Lean over and put your hands on the seat and tilt your ass up so I can get insid
e you.”

  He rubs the tip of his dick through my wet center and then slides inside, balls deep. “Fuck. I swear you’re still as tight as you were when I took your virginity.”

  He pulls out, almost all the way, and then thrusts his cock in so hard his balls slap against me. He begins slowly, increasing his pace until he’s full speed with me grinding against him, matching his every stroke.

  I push against him with every thrust. He’s so deep that it feels like he’s pounding my womb. But I still want more.

  His hand moves around and grips my hip when he thrusts one last time, filling me with his seed.

  “Fuck, Frankee,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “That was so good, baby.”

  He relaxes and his hand comes up to my face to grip my chin, turning it so he can kiss the corner of my mouth. “You are mine. Say it.”

  No two ways about it. Porter Beckman owns a little more of me every day. “I am yours.”

  “Damn right, you are.”

  He pushes up the T-shirt—that fits me like a dress—and kisses the curvature of my back. “Damn, girl. You make sex in the woods hot.”

  His cock slides out and cum runs down my legs. “Sex in the woods is messy.”

  He chuckles and takes off his T-shirt to wipe my inner thighs. “I guess it’s my duty to give up my shirt for my princess.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” I pull on my panties and shorts. “Are we going back to the house?”

  “Yeah. I got what I came after.”

  “I figured as much.”

  He pulls me against him and kisses my mouth. “I want to tell you something before we go back.”

  “Okay.”

  “What you did for my mom—helping her make the decision about her hair and going to the salon with her…” Porter’s eyes search mine for a moment before he speaks again. “That means the world to me. You mean the world to me.”

  “You mean the world to me too.”

  He puts his arms around me and squeezes tightly. “I like where this is going. Where we’re going.”

  “Me too.”

  We are changing. Growing. Progressing. I feel it.

  This is becoming more.