Porter

  It’s five in the morning when I arrive at the Dawson residence. It’s still dark, so they’ve turned on the exterior lights for me. I smile when I recall pulling Frankee around to the side of the house for our first kiss. That was only a month ago. So much has happened since then. It’s like our relationship is on hyperspeed.

  Maybe it’s because we know she’s leaving in six weeks. Maybe it’s because we spend so much time together. Maybe it’s because we’re perfect for one another and meant to be together.

  I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Never cared more about another person’s happiness than my own. Never felt sick to my stomach at the thought of losing a woman.

  I’m done falling. I’m there.

  I love Frances Ameline Dawson.

  My porno princess.

  Scott meets me at the front door, and we shake hands. “Come in. Frankee will be right out.”

  Mrs. Dawson comes into the living room. “Porter, you remember my wife, Tara?”

  I nod. “I do, but it’s been a while. Good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you as well.”

  Tara Dawson is a stunning woman. I didn’t realize how much Frankee looks like her mother until this moment.

  “Scott and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Frankee. The internship. The training. And especially this trip to the graphic design expo. It’s all so generous of you.”

  Hearing Tara and Scott’s gratitude makes me feel like shit. Like I’ve been taking advantage of their daughter. Using her for sex.

  But that’s not the case. It can’t be when I love her.

  “I’ve been very impressed with Frankee. She’s a talented designer. I’m lucky to have her at Lovibond.”

  I notice Tara’s eyes have left my face, and she’s studying my left bicep. “I’ve seen that before.”

  “It’s Frankee’s design.” Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “You had Frankee’s design tattooed on your arm?”

  “I did; the design was amazing. I knew I had to have it done the moment I saw her drawing.”

  Frankee comes into the living room, rolling a suitcase behind her. Perfect timing so Mrs. Dawson can’t quiz me further. “I’m all set.”

  I go to her and take her bag. “I’ve got this, ba…”

  Fuck.

  Frankee’s eyes nearly bug out of their sockets after my partial slipup. Fingers fucking crossed that Tara and Scott didn’t catch on to me halfway calling her baby.

  “Call us when you get there, so we’ll know you made it safely.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m putting my little girl’s safety in your hands, Porter. Take care of her.”

  I shake Scott’s hand. “You know I will.”

  Frankee hugs her parents, and the two of them stand in the doorway watching us drive away. “I may have fucked up.”

  “You think so, ba…?”

  Well, there’s that too. “I’m not talking about that. Your mom recognized my tattoo from your sketchbook. I told her it was your design and she had a weird look on her face. I think she suspects.”

  “Well, if she does, she does. I’m twenty-one so there’s not a lot she can say. I mean, she had three kids by the time she was my age.”

  “Do you think she’ll say anything to Scott?”

  “I don’t think so. She wouldn’t want Daddy to have a problem with his boss, especially if there was no basis behind it.”

  Frankee unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the seat so she’s sitting beside me. She fastens the lap belt around her waist and takes my hand in hers. “I don’t want to think about what-ifs on this trip. I only want to think about us and how much fun we’re going to have together.”

  “I like that plan.”

  We do the airport shuffle and board our flight. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in first class. Hell, I can’t believe I’m flying at all.”

  “How have you managed to never fly?”

  “My parents have three kids. Two of them were holy terrors. Even if they’d had the money, there was no way they were going to put us on a plane to go anywhere. The boys probably would have taken the plane down.”

  “You talk about your brothers like they’re awful.”

  “They were, Porter. It was bad. People think twins are so cute but they just don’t know what kind of hell they can raise.”

  The attendant brings us the mimosas we ordered. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I taste the drink and find that she didn’t skimp on the champagne. “Good, right?”

  “I like it.”

  “So you’d freak out if you got pregnant with twins?”

  Frankee grimaces. “I wouldn’t get done crying if they told me there were two in there.”

  “Wouldn’t twins be hereditary since your mom had them?”

  “Identical twins are not hereditary—only fraternal twins run in families—so I shouldn’t have any greater chance at having twins than any other woman. Thank God for that.”

  “Do you want children?”

  “I do, but not until I’m married to the man I’m going to be with for the rest of my life, and we’re financially stable. I want what your parents have. They did it the right way.”

  “They were married years before they started having kids. Do you want to wait until you’re thirty to have your first baby?”

  “I’m not stuck on an age as much as I’m stuck on being financially stable.”

  I can understand that after everything she went through in her early childhood. “Would you have a baby at an earlier age if your husband were financially stable?”

  “Yeah. I guess I might do that. What about you? Do you want a wife and kids?”

  “I do.”

  “How many?”

  “Only one wife.”

  Frankee gently bumps my shoulder with hers. “I hope you only want one wife. How about children?”

  “I grew up in a family of three kids. That always felt right to me. How many do you want?”

  “Two, three, or four. I haven’t decided.”

  Big difference between two and four. “Keeping your options open?”

  “I think it depends on what gender the first two are. If they’re boys, I think I’m done.”

  Her brothers have done a number on her. “I can see that, especially if they’re a handful.”

  “Did your brother and his wife wait a while to start their family?”

  “They’ve been trying for a long time. Years of infertility. Numerous miscarriages. Failed in-vitros. They’ve gone through hell and back for this baby.”

  “Then it’ll be even more special because they waited so long and went through so much.”

  “I pray everything goes okay. I don’t think they could make it through another loss.”

  “I’m sure their baby is going to be just fine.”

  I upgraded to the presidential suite after I was sure Frankee was coming. I want this trip to be first class all the way for her. “What do you think of the room?”

  She falls back on the bed. “I think this is not a bad place to experience hotel sex for the first time.”

  “I like that attitude.”

  “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Can’t come to Austin and not do anything so what’s the plan for tonight?”

  “We have the rest of the evening to do anything we want. What are you thinking?”

  “We don’t get to date like a real couple. I’d like to go out to dinner. Maybe go to a club and have some drinks and dance. You never get to see me dressed up. I’m always wearing shorts or jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “True, but you look mighty fine in them.”

  “As you do but I’d like to see you in a button-down and dress pants.”

  “You’re going to see me in that for the next four days.”

  “And it may turn me on s
o much that I drag you back to the room every day.”

  “I wouldn’t complain about that.”

  “Can we go dancing at a club tonight? I want to dress up and look pretty for you.”

  Does this girl not know she looks gorgeous every day regardless of what she’s wearing? “Dinner and dancing. Done.”

  I’ve been waiting on the sofa in the living area for like an hour when Frankee finally comes out of the bedroom. She’s wearing a short, tight black strapless dress and mile-high red fuck-me pumps. Her makeup looks vintage with thick, black lines on her upper lids. Reminds me of a sixties model. “Damn… girl. You look hot.”

  I’m going to have a ton of fun peeling her out of that dress later tonight. But the shoes… those fuckers are staying on.

  She twirls, and a huge smile spreads across her face. “I guess I clean up all right.”

  I get up and she comes to me, wrapping her hand around my body and squeezing my ass. “Me likey this shirt and these pants on you.”

  “A bit different than jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “Mmm-hmm. I love this look on you.”

  “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll soon be back to wearing my workingman attire and smelling like hops and yeast.”

  “Because you’re a hardworking man. I find that highly attractive.”

  “You know what’s attractive to me? You in this dress and those shoes.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  “Come on. We need to go before my dick convinces me to peel you out of that dress now instead of later.”

  I feel like the luckiest man alive walking through the lobby with Frankee on my arm. I see some other men who share the same belief based on the attention she’s catching.

  This is our first time being dressed up and going out on the town together. I’m accustomed to the jeans-and-T-shirt Frankee, and although that version is absolutely beautiful, it doesn’t gain the same attention that black-dress-and-heels Frankee garners.

  “While you were taking ten years to get ready, I looked at restaurants in this area.”

  Frankee elbows me in the ribs. “Asshole.”

  “The hotel steakhouse has some good reviews. Want to give it a try?”

  “I’d never turn down a meal in a steakhouse.”

  We’re seated and looking at our menus when Frankee giggles. “I just thought of something. Last weekend we ate fried catfish and you bent me over a muddy four-wheeler. Here we are a week later and you’re buying me a sixty-dollar steak and having your way with me in a five-star suite. You are an incredibly diverse man, Mr. Beckman.”

  “You’re never bored with me.”

  “Definitely not.”

  Dinner is delicious and romantic. I find it nearly impossible to keep my eyes off Frankee in this setting. Such a different experience from the ones we’ve shared in Birmingham. And that makes me sad. Angry at myself. She deserves to be taken out on the town, taken out on dates to nice restaurants. Not hidden away in my condo.

  “Don’t make plans for next weekend. We have a social engagement.”

  “We do?” Her eyes widen.

  “It’s Stout’s thirtieth birthday. Lawrence is having a surprise birthday party for him at Iron City.”

  “Oh, that’ll be fun. You said we have an engagement. Are we going together?”

  “All Lovibond employees are invited. I guess you’d probably come with your parents.”

  “Oh.” Her tone is flat.

  “I wish we could go together. But you know why that’s not possible.”

  “I know. It was a little bit exciting in the beginning to hide this relationship. I sort of liked sneaking around, but now it’s a pain in the ass. I’m liking that aspect less and less all the time.”

  “Are you wanting to come out?”

  “I’ve considered it, but I think we’re beyond that point now since I’m only here for six more weeks.”

  Six more weeks. I hate those three fucking words.

  This began as a ten-week affair. In the beginning, it felt like it would last forever. Like I’d probably be glad to see her go when our time was up. But now I don’t want to see this end in six weeks.

  There’s more to asking Frankee to stay than simply saying the words. I’d be asking her to change her plans. Her life. That’s not something I can do lightly. Not without having my own plan for what would happen afterward.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah. I’m done. I don’t want to be too full for drinks and dancing.”

  “Any idea where you want to go?”

  “Dirty Sixth.”

  “What’s Dirty Sixth?”

  “There are three sections of Sixth street. West, East, and Dirty. Dirty is the bar scene with lots of live music. We can pub crawl.”

  “Pub crawl. I haven’t done that in a long time.” I chuckle because it’s a reminder of how much older I am than her. And how much busier. She’s been a college kid having fun for the last three years while I’ve been building a company.

  “You work all the time. It’ll be good for you to have fun.”

  My girl may not know it, but I used to be the king of a good time. No one out-partied me. “I’m game. Let’s do it.”

  We catch a taxi to Dirty Sixth from our hotel. We’re not that far from it and I could easily walk it, but I doubt she could in her fuck-me pumps. “Are you going to be okay in those shoes?”

  “These are my clubbing shoes. They’re broken in.”

  We hold hands as we walk the strip looking for our first stop. “This one is crowded, and the band sounds good. Want to give it a try?”

  “Anything you want, baby.”

  Lights flash around us in the dark club and it’s packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The band is playing ‘Play That Funky Music.’ Classic club song. I’m sure that’s right up Frankee’s alley since it’s old as fuck.

  She grabs my hand and leads me to the area around the stage where all of the dancers are gathered. She blends into the crowd and moves to the song like it’s something she’s done a million times.

  “You do this a lot, don’t you?”

  “Used to. Not so much since I moved back to Birmingham and got myself a hard-ass for a boss.” She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in for a quick kiss. “But I like him anyway. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot and fucks me like a champ.”

  She turns her back to me and grabs my hands, placing them on her hips, and rubbing her body against me as she dances. The little vixen knows exactly what she’s doing. She has to be able to feel the evidence against her ass.

  We’re packed like sardines on the dance floor with little room to move. Everyone here is in his or her own little world, paying us no attention, so I slide one of my hands from her hip down to her lower stomach. I grip her body tightly and pull her against me while thrusting my hard cock against her ass. She leans against my chest and turns to peer at me over her shoulder. “You are being so bad.”

  “Did you really think you could rub your ass on me like that and not get a reaction?”

  “I knew what I’d get from you.”

  The band plays ‘Hurt So Good’ and Frankee lifts her arms over her head, and leans deeper into me. I rest my chin on her shoulder and she snakes her hands around the back of my head and neck. From this angle, I can see inside the top of her dress. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

  “Nope.”

  Fuck.

  We dance until I have dry mouth, and we’re both sticky with sweat. “Want to get a drink?”

  “Yeah, my throat is starting to hurt from yelling over the music.”

  She waits in the corner while I grab a couple of beers from the bar, and I’m not a bit surprised to see that a guy has approached her while I was away.

  “May I help you?” Yeah. I sound like a dick, but I don’t care.

  The guy holds up his hands. “Got it. Not looking for any trouble.”

  I pass Frankee her drink. “They had hard cider.”

  “I’ve nev
er tried that brand.” She turns the bottle up and takes a big drink. “Wow, that is good. Want a taste?”

  “Nah. I’m not much of a cider drinker. Too sweet for me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Frankee leans in and kisses me open-mouthed, her tongue rolling against mine.

  “Mmm. I’ve never tasted a more delicious cider.”

  We finish our drinks and bounce back onto the dance floor but this time the tempo is much slower. Romantic. “I don’t know this song.”

  “It’s Climax Blues Band.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and moves close. “‘I Love You.’ That’s the name of the song.”

  Fuck. Me.

  There was a fraction of a millisecond where my brain thought she was saying she loved me. And I liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth.

  We’ve told one another we’re falling for each other. That’s different from coming right out and saying those three words.

  “It’s a good song.”

  “Total classic. I can’t believe you don’t know it.”

  “I’m not a music head like you.”

  “You’re not, and we need to work on that.”

  The next few songs are fast—and I’m able to name all of them. Not a great accomplishment, considering most of them are some of the most famous songs ever recorded. Going three for three, I grin. “‘Staying Alive.’ Bee Gees.”

  She nods and we move to the beat of the music, dry humping on the dance floor. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her back to the suite. And I’m going to give her a taste of what’s in store for her.

  I move my hands down her sides to grip her hips while I lower myself and drag my mouth down the front of her dress. I don’t stop until my face is level with her pussy. And that’s when I look up and lick the fabric of her dress covering her groin.

  She pushes her fingers into the top of my hair. “Oh fuck. That is hot.”

  I rise slowly, dragging my face up her dress on the way up. I grip her ass in my hands and pull her close. “I’m going to make you come so many different ways tonight.”

  “You’re doing a great job working me up for the first way.” Frankee’s smile evaporates as she stumbles toward me—not for the first time tonight with the crowd on this dance floor, but this time she’s wearing a peculiar expression. And I know why when I look behind her.