Page 43 of After Care

“How you enjoying the show?” Gage barked into the mic. “Collision is my family, but sometimes we have special guests join us for the holidays. Who’s ready for a new year?” The crowd went wild, shrieking and screeching, whistling, with hands in the air. “So I’d like to give you all a treat, and call up our new friend, Caleb, to play a bit with the guys.” The audience roused again, encouraging my son to hop on the stage and take the guitar offered to him by Gage. Tension stood between the two men, but Gage’s stage presence kept him in the entertainer-moment. He clapped Caleb on the back and pointed subtly at his wife. I noticed Ivy heading for the side stage, and I rushed to intercept her there.

“Don’t you start with me,” she snapped at her husband as he reached her. Instantly, he embraced her, kissing her in that commanding way he had and dragging her behind the stage. I remained on the side, mesmerized by my son, wondering how much he might miss a dream he was never allowed to have. David wanted a baseball player, not a musician.

From where I stood, I saw Tommy exit the opposite side of the stage. He wandered through the crowd, where he was immediately accosted with pats and hugs and women sauntering up to him. Some hung on his arm, another grabbed his ass. One went in for an embrace, jumping up at him. I stayed hidden, watching the scene, torn between watching my talented son perform, wishing he had lived his dream, and not wanting his reality to ever be as complicated as Tommy and Gage’s lives seemed. The women. The groping. The jealousy.

Gage returned only moments before the song ended, brushing past me for the stage. He hugged Caleb in that guy way, patting him on the back, and Caleb walked towards me as the crowd roared.

“That was fucking unreal,” Caleb shouted, pulling me upward in a bear hug. “He’s an ass, but that was awesome.” Setting me on my feet, I asked Caleb what Gage said to him.

“'Keep your hands off my wife.’ As if,” Caleb snorted. “Ivy’s cute, but she’s not my scene, and I don’t play that shit, wanting another man’s wife.” He huffed, brushing his hand through his brown hair. “His wife. Jesus,” he muttered. The sentiment ran deeper than Gage’s implication. My son had every right to be pissed, but he was also pumped. The high of performing was so similar to the adrenaline of playing ball, and the buzz of being the center of things rested in his flushed cheeks.

“What a rush,” he added, as someone handed him a water bottle and a shot of something. He downed the one and then guzzled the other. Looking over my shoulder, I followed his gaze to find Tommy standing behind me.

“Got talent, kid. And fucking guts, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Caleb said, the high still climbing, keeping him amped up. Tommy nodded in agreement.

“Need your mom for a moment.” Caleb nodded, instantly dismissing me with a turn for the stage.

“Oh no,” I said, the second Tommy tugged my arm, pulling me back in the direction Gage had disappeared with Ivy. “I’m not going anywhere after all those women were all over you.”

“Your dress should be green, darlin’. It’s a such a good color on you.” He smiled as he pulled me into a small, private bathroom. I was on the verge of telling him where he could shove that color green.

“Got underwear on under that dress?” he asked, eyes roaming over me like he couldn’t decide which flavor to select at an ice cream counter.

“Of course,” I barked, my blood pumping in both agitation and excitement at the way his eyes dilated to black.

“Take them off.”

I stared at him, my hands gripping the sink at my back. I shook my head.

“You need to breathe, darlin’. You’re all pent up again.”

“Well,” I exhaled. “It’s hard watching women hang on you.”

“Oh, it’s hard all right,” he said, reaching for my hand and forcing it over the thick bulge in his jeans. “But only for you.”

Our breaths were the only sound between us as our chests rose and fell like we’d run a marathon.

“Who am I in this bathroom with, girl?” He glared at me, reaching for the small sink and crowding me in.

“Me,” I choke-swallowed, his nearness lowering my bravado and the willpower to stave him off. He inhaled at my neck, his nose skimming my skin without kissing me, and my mouth watered.

“That’s right. You.” He blew on my damp skin as the heat in the tight space shot higher. “Only you.” He paused, his nose continuing to trail over my skin, pushing the collar of the dress shirt to fall down my arm. “Now. Panties.”

He pressed back, allowing me limited space, and I slipped my hand under my dress without revealing anything and slid the material down my legs. Trying to be a smart ass, I held them up to his face with only one finger, but he grabbed them. Bringing them to his nose, he inhaled, and my mouth fell open. Then they disappeared into his back pocket and a small, square packet appeared instead. I couldn’t believe we were about to do this—in a restroom, behind a stage, in a bar—but when he dropped to a knee, I had my answer. We were. His fingers found my core, damp and eager for attention, before his mouth lowered, and he sucked me hard. My hands fell to his hair, and I bucked forward.

Oh. My. God. I’d never felt anything like it. I’d had oral sex before, but nothing compared to his plump lips pumping my lower ones, parting me with the force of this tongue and lapping over skin so sensitive, so tingling, so aware of his aggressive attention. My lower belly filled with full flutters and the tell-tale sign of clenching told me I was close, but he pulled back, giving my clit a tender nibble. He stood on a rush and unbuckled his pants, freeing himself as his mouth sought mine. His lips tasted like me, and I lapped it up, reveling in the risqué sensation, just like our precarious location. His hand reached to lock the door and then he rolled on the condom.

“I don’t think the sink will hold me,” I said, pressing down on it and wondering how I’d balance on such a thin edge. Let’s face it, he was strong, but we were older, wall sex didn’t work the same as it may have in my twenties, not to mention, there really wasn’t any wall space other than the back of the door.

“Turn around,” he snarled, animalistic and ready to capture his prey. I did as he asked, and he hiked up my dress, massaging my cool backside with both hands before kicking my feet apart and positioning himself at my entrance. He pressed me forward, and I gripped the sink for leverage before he slammed into me without warning. My belly hit the edge of the sink, and my hand slipped to the faucet, striving for anything to hold me steady as he hammered into me, repeatedly filling me without nearing the exit. One hand held my hip while the other slipped forward without missing a beat and stroked that spot I needed.

I caught his reflection in the mirror. He was watching me, and the expression on his face spoke of an intensity I’d never seen. I looked away. His hand released my hip and awkwardly cupped the back of my head.

“Look at you,” he demanded. I peeked upward again, staring at our reflection. “Who do you see in that mirror, beautiful?”

“You…” I faltered, my breath hitching as he continued to pound into me, reaching a depth I hadn’t felt before.