AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ah, please. Please, all the way.” She spread her legs and lifted her hips, her arousal dripping and ready. His mouth watered at the site, and he teased her again before plunging all eight inches deep inside of her. Her walls gripped him so tight that he pulsed, almost losing it again.
“You feel so good, Haize.” In and out in a rhythmic pattern, their hips meeting each other, bodies moving in one motion, fitting like a puzzle piece.
Her nails dug into his back, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he thrust in and out, fast, and slow, keeping a good pace to try and make it last as long as he could. She felt so warm and good, he wondered how he hadn’t finished.
“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her as she lifted her hips to meet his.
“I love you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize.”
“Thank you for saving me.” It was hard to say the words, coming out in short pants as he buried his face in her cleavage, pushing so deep inside of her that he felt her come. He finished not long after, planting his seed inside of her. He didn’t want to stop, wishing he could revive his arousal and keep going.
Collapsing on top of her, he rolled behind her and held her close, her back against him, their sweat and warmth pushed together on top of the covers. Neither of them spoke. They lay in a pleasurable bliss, breathing slowing, heart rates calming as he buried his face in her hair.
“You saved me, Mikey.”
“You saved me, Haize.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Michael parked in front of his mother’s apartment building, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles ached. He could hear Haize in his mind, urging him to do this. That he could do this. The pain was so bad his heart ached. He feared seeing his mom. He was scared about it bringing up too many memories. He also feared telling her that Mitch was dead. It was a conversation no one should ever have to do. Regardless of how horrible she had been to them as children, a mother should never outlive her children. He had to do it in person. This was not something someone should hear over a phone call.
Sliding out of the cab, he took a deep breath and fought the urge to throw up. He could feel Haize beside him, encouraging him. She had offered to come to help, but he declined. He didn’t want her to witness this. His mother was unpredictable, and he had no idea which direction the conversation would go in.
Stepping onto the porch, he balled his fists and knocked. He heard coughing and could smell the cigarette smoke through the door. The clank of some glass and footsteps, and the door slid open, revealing his frail mother, wrinkled and tired, skinny, and haggard. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and she looked past him, almost as if she were looking for Mitch.
“What are you doing here, Michael?” She opened the door further, allowing him entrance. The place wreaked of cigarette smoke and stale beer. He feared he’d want to relapse, but the scent was nauseating, and he had no desire.
She sat down in her chair. “Have a seat. Where’s your brother? Don’t you two do everything together?”
Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. “Ma, I need to talk to you about something.” His voice shook and he fought the tears.
“If this is about what happened to you when you were a kid, I don’t want to. You can blame it all on that and how I wasn’t a good mom, but you made your decisions. I didn’t put you in prison.”
“No. Not that.” Michael shook his head. “It’s… It’s about Mitch.”
“He get locked up? I don’t have money for bail. He’s gonna have to sit there until his trial. What did he do this time?”
Michael cleared his throat and ducked his head. “Ma, Mitch is dead.” He let the words linger for a bit. He could hear the ticking of the clock somewhere in the house. She exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke and leaned forward, reaching for a bottle of beer on the coffee table.
“How?”
“Drug overdose.” Here it came. She was going to blame him. He could feel it. He closed his eyes and took in the secondhand smoke, immediately craving a cigarette. He wished he’d have grabbed the pack in the pickup. It was the one addiction he was still allowed to have and would eventually have to give up.
“Were you there?” She was even keel – no emotion, just questions. Maybe it hadn’t hit her yet.
“I found him. He’d been dead for several hours when I got there.”
“Are you okay?”
The question caught Michael off guard. She’d never cared how he felt. “I’m not okay, but I’ll get there. I just thought I owed it to you to come tell you face to face.” He started to stand up. He had no more business being there.
“Funeral?”
“He’s gonna be cremated. He didn’t have life insurance and I don’t have the money for a huge funeral. I know you don’t, either. We can do a memorial get together if you want, but no one from town cares. We were just trouble to all of them.” It seemed awful, but it was the best he could do with what he had.
