Page 53

TEN

Daphne

One Week Later

Tears slip down my cheeks as my body shudders.

Another tongue twister in the books.

God, this man’s mouth is everything.

Dutch’s hands are tight on my waist as he finishes me off, eating my pussy like a maestro through the last of my third orgasm this morning.

Between the first and second, he cooked eggs, bacon and made me coffee, which I will need because sneaking into the little house after midnight every night this week and then sneaking back into my bedroom before appearing for breakfast as if nothing ever happened is making sleeping hours slim.

On top of that, Dutch and I don’t really sleep.

Maybe I pass out for an hour or two here and there, but otherwise, Jesus, he knows how to keep a girl up if you know what I mean. We’re still in the kitchen, I’m laid out on the little linoleum table like a buffet and that’s exactly what it feels like.

Dutch is groaning and moaning his own satisfaction when the top of the orgasm hits.

Hard.

The climax reverberates through me like an earthquake and I hear Dutch’s chuckle as I beg him for mercy. Orgasms are bliss, sure, but there’s a tipping point—which he loves to toy with—where they become painful. One is amazing, two is nirvana, three…I’m still riding the wave.

Four, uhhh, ouch a little bit.

“My clit,” I moan, pushing at his head, but his hands only tighten on my waist as he flicks the tip of his tongue against me.

“Fuuuuck. Dutch! Enough. Please.” I’m flat out whining now but he doubles down, tongue and lips, and I start to thrash.

“I need a second.” Screaming now, my throat is raw and it’s hard to believe James and my parents can’t hear us from the house even in their sleep.

I’m twisting, kicking, bucking and slapping at him as his tongue slips inside me, drawing out orgasm number six as the room goes dark.

Stars dance behind my lids as I come back to this world and I wonder how long I was out.

Dutch is standing next to the table, naked in all his majesty, holding a glass of apple juice because orange juice gives me the hives. It’s in one of the travel cups he got for me with ‘Doll’ written on the side in pink letters with a straw sticking out of the top.

“Drink.” He holds the straw to my lips as his other hand rests on my thigh, warm and heavy, telling me in one of his thousand little ways, you’re mine. “You’re dehydrated. That sweet pussy fountain’s been pretty fucking generous this morning.”

“Mhum,” I answer as I gulp down the sweet liquid, feeling the coolness all the way down into my stomach.

Yesterday, we went to see his sister. I really liked her. Strong, tough, but caring. Two things were clear from the moment we stepped in through her doorway. First, that she was deeply hurt by the way he’d treated her—she didn’t know if she was ever going to see him again in her life. And second, she never stopped loving him.

After a long heart-to-heart, where they both got some things off their chests, she went to a dresser and took out a brown package. Inside was a CD and a bank card. Heather, Dutch’s sister, played the CD right there and then, tears in her eyes as her father’s voice came over the speakers. It had apparently been included with his will, apologizing for things he’d done, the way he’d been; something he couldn’t bring himself to do face to face while he was alive.

He spoke to Dutch directly, obviously expecting that he would be there at the will reading. He took some responsibility for the way his son turned out, accepted that if he’d been there for him after his mom died, and hadn’t lashed out with violence at the first sign of trouble, things might have been different.

Dutch wiped away tears, shaking his head, saying he made his own choices.

And then came the inheritance.

I don’t think either of us knew quite what to expect, even though I’d seen the size of Heather’s house. After all, things change. She’s married, her wife is a decorated general she met through her father, Heather herself has a law degree, and they have a son that Dutch didn’t even know about. The house outside the city, with its long driveway, manicured lawns, swimming pool and stables, was just a really nice place. As far as either of us knew, the two of them had bought it together. Their dream home.

Well, let’s just say Dutch’s father had investments. The truth is, Dutch doesn’t need to work another day in his life, he could just retire in comfort. He has plans to help out my father and James with their plans but that will have to wait until all the cards about us are on the table.

I will say, Dutch earned some points with my father when the day after we were at the bar, all the stolen product from the garage was sitting outside the back door. Dutch wouldn’t fess up to what happened, but James made sure Dad knew.

The sound of me slurping up the last of the juice is mixed with another chuckle from Dutch as he moves around the table, holding his thick erection in his fist as he shifts himself between my spread legs.

“Please.” I stutter. “I mean…”

“Please and thank you.” He doesn’t give me another word and I drop the plastic cup on the table above my head, hearing it roll off and pop onto the floor as Dutch slides the tip of his dick into me.

It’s perfect. This man’s dick. There’s nothing about it I don’t love.

“Sit up.” He seats himself into me then reaches out and takes my hands, pulling me up before gripping my ass as he mounts me onto his body, his muscular shoulders hard and flexing as he moves us together and I nuzzle my head into the hard tendons of his neck.

Dutch starts to grunt, hard and deep, just like the fucking he’s giving me. I run my hands over his back, feeling the muscles under my palms as he drives in and out, using my body like a fuck doll and there’s nothing about it I don’t recommend.

It doesn’t take long before I’m on orgasm number…oh who cares, I’ve lost count.

He’s relentless, plunging to my depths me over and over, lifting and slamming my body back down on his cock as our lips come together and I taste my arousal and the apple juice as we grunt and gasp, the first waves of my orgasm crashing through me as I feel the first sprays of his hot cream deep inside.

We pant and chuckle, and Dutch carries me to the bathroom and sits me on a towel that he has folded on a little bench against the wall. It’s cozy here in the little house, small is another word for it, but it’s all I need.

I could see myself living here with Dutch, happy and content, but I know the time is coming that we need to come clean with my parents. James has kept his word about not ratting us out, but I feel like the secret is putting a wedge between us all.

“Dutch, I need to get back to the house.”

“Might want to get dressed first, baby,” he chuckles. “Don’t want to give your dad a heart attack. I have a couple of things I need to do here before I head over.” He kisses the top of my head and lifts me into the shower, taking care of me as he always does.

I sneak in through the back door, taking off my jacket before heading for the dining table where Mom, Dad and James are already eating breakfast then I remember, they said they had an early delivery today. Dutch was still naked when he ushered me out of the door, insisting that he had things to do before he could follow.

What things though?

I have no idea, but as their eyes meet mine I wonder if I should just take this opportunity and get it over with. Tell them everything. Come clean. Would Dutch appreciate it? I could smooth things over before he even has to face them.

“And where have you been, Daphne Foster?” my mom says with a wry smile. Does she suspect? Dad just stares at me, fork in hand, eggs and bacon half eaten on his plate.

I shake my head. “Nowhere. I mean, just taking the dogs for a walk.”

She stares, raising one eyebrow, and I look back at her, feeling scrutinized, judged. Of course she knows. She’s not stupid, she sees things.

“Mom, I—”

“Where are they?” she asks, and for a second I’m confused.

They?

Then it dawns on me. “Oh, um, I mean I took them out earlier, then brought them back to my room…”

“And then went back outside?”

“She told me she was just going out for a walk, right, sis?” James supplies, covering for me. “It’s such a lovely morning and all that.”

I nod. “Yes. Exactly.”

Dad draws a deep breath through his nose, then goes back to eating his breakfast, not even meeting my eyes.

“Well.” Mom shakes her head. “If you’d have told me I would have gone with you. A walk before breakfast sounds like just the thing to set you up for the day. Good for you, sweetheart. And will Dutch be joining us this morning?”

Dad huffs, grumbling around a mouthful of eggs.

“Mom…” I begin, wondering how to say what I need to say. Will she be angry? Will Dad march right on down to the little house and punch Dutch’s lights out? “Mom, I need to—”

The back door opens, and suddenly my breath is taken away. There is Dutch. But I must be dreaming because he’s wearing what appears to be a five-thousand dollar suit. I’ve never seen him in anything but jeans—or nothing at all.

His eyes meet mine and it’s like everything is swept away.

He crosses from the door, and before I know it he’s there, dropping down onto one knee. Taking my hand in both of his. Meeting my gaze with those eyes I could drown in. Wide and blue and so deep.

“Daphne,” he says. “Daphne, you gave me a fucking new life when you wrote me that first letter and I don’t want that life to ever end.” He grins and glances around at the others at the table, my mom, James, finally my dad, who draws a deep breath through his nose but says nothing.

And the giggle escapes before I can hold it in.

Then the giggle turns to a chuckle, and a full-throated laugh. I’m shaking my head, trying to get myself under control as the tears stream down my cheeks. He has my left hand gripped in his, so I clasp my right hand to my face.

“I’m sorry…” I mutter, still laughing. “I’m sorry, this isn’t funny. I promise, I’m taking it seriously. I’m just…so happy. I thought I was going to have to tell them myself.”

“You didn’t did you?”

I shake my head, trembling with the effort of trying not to giggle. “No. I didn’t get chance.”

“Thank fuck. That’s my job.”

“Damn right it is,” my dad grumbles.

I turn his way, then narrow my eyes. “Why aren’t you laying down the law? Why are you sitting there, not getting up and punching Dutch in the face?”

James laughs. “Yeah, Dad, what gives?”

Even Mom turns his way, but he just shrugs.

“He came and asked me. Like a man. He made me swear not to say anything. Told me about the letters too. I’m not going to pretend I’m happy about it, but I want you to be happy, sweetheart. And anyone can see that since he came here that’s exactly what you’ve been. So…” He draws a breath through his nose, huffs it out. “So if this is what you want, I say go for it. You’ve gotta do what’s right for you.”

Mom punches him playfully on the arm. “You old romantic.”

Dad grumbles and sticks another forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Get on with it then,” he says to Dutch as he chews, and I laugh as I turn back.

“Where was I?”

“Something sappy,” James suggests.

Dutch just laughs. “Right. I’m not good at making speeches. Just marry me, Daphne.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little white box, opening it up to show the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen, catching the light in blinding sparkles. “Daphne Foster, you are sentenced to life. With me.”

I nod, tears still dripping from my chin. “Yes,” I say as he slips the ring onto my finger. “Yes, I’ll do my time. I mean, I will. I do. Whatever the right response is. Just yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

I laugh again as Mom rushes over to hug me and James thrusts his hand out to shake with Dutch. But this time my laughter isn’t nervous, or unexpected. It’s joyous.

I’ve found a love that will last a lifetime, and things are all going to be okay. Dutch pulls me next to him.

“One more thing.”

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out an white envelope address to the future Mrs. Dutch McCabe.

Dear Daphne,

I don’t know how to begin this. So many fucking feels as they say. Thank you for coming with me to see my sister today. I don’t know if I could have done it without you. There were things that needed to be said between us, things she needed to get out of her system, and facing that would have been much harder if you weren’t there by my side.

But that’s not what this letter is about. The inheritance is nice, I won’t lie. It gives me the ability to make some changes. And that’s really what I want to talk about.

Us.

You and me.

I’ve been thinking about that letter you wrote me again, the one with the elderly couple sitting at the table, celebrating eighty-one years of marriage. That letter meant so much to me, and I could never figure out why. I think now I know.

I think the reason I kept coming back to that old couple is because they remind me of us. Think about it. Everyone would have bet against their love, him being from the opposite side of the tracks and all. He even went to prison. But in the end, love won out, and seventy-two years after they met they’re still going strong.

One day, Daphne, we’ll be able to look back on our lives like that, see all the happy times we had together. I’ll be able to say to some youngster, isn’t she a looker? And you’ll be able to swat me away, even though you know it’s true.

But if we’re going to have seventy-one years of marriage, we need to get on with it.

That’s why I’m heading into town. Your dad has told me I have to have a place of my own, and I need to get a ring too. It’s a lot to fix in one evening, but when money is no object things like that get easier. I know you won’t read this letter until I give it to you tomorrow, after I’ve laid everything on the line, but I want you to know that from the moment I wake each morning, all I’m thinking of is you. That everything I do from now on is for you. For us.

I love you, Daphne Foster. That’s the fucking bottom line truth. Being pen pals with you gave me hope when I needed it most, but being with you has given me a life. A real life I can share with you. And I can’t wait to see what the rest of it brings.

Forever. For life.

Dutch.