All the Sky (22 page)

When he pulled back again, she felt the first thrill of real stimulation, and she gasped and rocked her hips.

“That’s it. That’s it.” He pushed in again, and this time he went all the way. She’d never felt anything like it. He held there; she could feel a tremor in his hands where they gripped her hips, and she realized that he was at the limits of his control.

Then he spanked her, his hand leaving her hip and landing sharply on the top of her thigh before she knew what was happening. She jumped, every muscle in her body contracting, her hips pulling sharply forward.

“Oh, fuck, yeah! Oh, fuck, that’s good. You’re grippin’ me so tight.” He brought his hand down again, and again she jumped and went rigid.

“Fuck, honey. This is so fuckin’ good I’m gonna die.”

Cory wasn’t sure what to think. Mostly she was scared. But then Havoc stopped hitting and started to move, his rhythm steady and not too fast or hard, sliding gently in and out of her, and that she liked. That was new and wonderful, and it wasn’t long before she was climbing again.

He noticed her pleasure. “Yeah, fuck. That’s my girl. Go. Ah, yeah.”

He picked up his pace, pulling her hips back with one hand, reaching around with the other to work her clit until she was moaning in a steady, undulating wail, her hips working as frantically as his. Just as she was reaching her peak, he left her clit and spanked her, hard, three times in succession.

She came so hard her clenching fists pulled a seam in the upholstery of the chair. Havoc came right with her, yelling like he was being torn apart.

He pulled gently, shakily out of her right away, then brought her to the floor, where they lay, Cory on her back, stretched out over his chest, both of them gasping strenuously for breath.

“Take the fuckin’ job, Cory.”

Exhausted, dazed, confused, and out of fight, she nodded.

~oOo~

Cory sat in the passenger seat of the Beast and looked at the old, grey farmhouse. Nolan opened the door behind her.

“Are we getting out or what?”

“Chill, kid.” Havoc, in the driver’s seat, reached over and squeezed her knee. It still surprised her when he did something genuinely, spontaneously sweet. It didn’t happen often. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Nervous, but ready.”

“Just Sunday dinner, honey. Some good eats, and then we’re outta there.”

She nodded and opened her door. Three weeks after she and Havoc had become a couple, Cory and Nolan were meeting Havoc’s family. The gossips had gotten hold of the juicy bone that was Havoc and Cory. It was all over town, apparently, and it hadn’t taken long for word to get to his mother and sister. Sophie, his sister, had yelled at him for letting their mother find out in line at the market, and now, on this chilly, windy, and overcast November Sunday, not long past noon, Havoc took her hand, and the three of them crunched up the gravel walk to Havoc’s family home.

Havoc had explained that his family kept the country way of the biggest meal of the day occurring at lunch time, and Sunday, church day, was the biggest meal of the week. Neither Havoc nor his father were churchgoers, and Havoc only came home for Sunday dinner maybe once a month anymore, so word was that June, his mother, was going all out.

Nervous didn’t really describe how Cory felt. Scared was closer to it. She had no idea what his people would think of her. More than that, she had kind of a scary image of his parents built up in her head. He didn’t talk about them much, but he had scars he wouldn’t talk about at all and wouldn’t let her touch. She didn’t know exactly what they were from, but they were obviously old scars, and his reaction seemed to come from a place of shame. That made her think they’d happened when he was a kid, and that made her wonder what his home life had been like. But the only thing he’d talk about from his childhood was his little sister. That sister met them on the porch. With a warm, broad grin, Havoc hugged her hard, bending down to her smaller frame.

At first glance, they looked nothing alike. Havoc was tall and muscular, his complexion leaning toward olive, his eyes and beard very dark—though that beard was lightly, and sexily, threaded with grey. Sophie was fair, with gold hair and hazel eyes, and she was only about five-six or so, like Cory. She was just a hair curvier, but not big at all.

They didn’t seem to look alike at all, but when they turned and both smiled at Cory and Nolan, the familial resemblance was plain. They’d all already met, at the fair in the summer and every not and then around town, so after the usual greetings, Sophie went up to Nolan and hooked her arm around his.

“Everybody’s got a date to dinner but us. Would you be my escort, sir?”

Nolan blushed and dropped his head, but Cory saw his grin. “Sure,” he muttered. Sophie made a slight little curtsy and then led Nolan in ahead of Havoc and Cory.

The first person they met was his father, who was sitting in the front room, reading the paper. Sophie led Nolan right past, but Havoc stopped, changing his hold on Cory’s hand so that their fingers were laced.

“Hey, Pop.”

His father looked over the paper. “Son.”

“Somebody I want you to meet. This is Corinne—Cory. Cory, my pop—Don Mariano.”

“Hi, Mr. Mariano.” She held out her hand and took a step toward him, but Havoc didn’t let go of her other hand. And, anyway, all his father did was nod and return to his paper. Okay. Not the warm and friendly type.

Havoc pulled her back and led her down a hall and into the kitchen. There, they found Nolan and Sophie, and Havoc’s mother, who was already chatting her kid up. A lot of difference in the welcomes here.

His mom looked exactly like a mom should look, in Cory’s estimation. Not like her mom, who’d been angular and rail thin, with the aged, rough skin and features of a lifelong chain smoker. More like a Norman Rockwell mom—soft, round, and pink, with fluffy white hair. She was wearing an apron over what looked like a church dress, very tasteful and demure, navy blue with a white Peter Pan collar.

She turned when Havoc brought Cory into the cheerful, old fashioned, blue and white kitchen.

“You must be Cory. Oh, it’s so good to meet you. I didn’t think anyone would ever find a way to pin this boy down.”

“Ma…”

“I don’t know if I’ve got him pinned down, Mrs. Mariano.”

“June, dear. I’m June. And if he’s bringing you home to Sunday dinner, then I’m going to start knitting baby booties, because marriage and family can’t be far behind.”

Behind Cory, so only she could hear, Havoc muttered
Jesus fucking Christ
. Cory almost giggled.

“Okay, now. Joe, you tell your father it’s time to get to the table. Nolan, the bathroom’s up the hall a bit—wash your hands, tops and bottoms. Cory and Sophie, you can lay the other dishes while I get the roast ready. Oh, it’s so good to have a full table!” With that, she turned and slid oven mitts on her hands.

It was strange to hear him called Joe. Like there was another person in the room she couldn’t see. She tried it out in her head, calling him Joe. Nope. He was Havoc. Only Havoc.

He gave her hand a squeeze, and then he and Nolan left on their errands. Cory wasn’t quite sure what to do, but Sophie waved her over, and together they scooped mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, a big bowl of carrots in brown sugar glaze, a basket of buttermilk biscuits, and two boats of gravy into pretty blue china serving dishes. They carried everything to the table, which was already set, and then June brought out a clear glass pitcher of milk. Sophie took it and poured a glass of milk at every place. Apparently, milk was the beverage option.

Sophie looked up as she poured. “This is raw milk, from the Iversens down the road. If you’ve never had raw milk, it’s different from store-bought. I’ll get you water if you’d rather.”

Neither she nor Nolan had ever had raw milk, but she didn’t want to upset an obvious paradigm. “No—it’ll be fine, I’m sure. But thanks.”

When everyone was seated at the table, Havoc’s parents at either end, Sophie and Nolan at one side, and Havoc and Cory at the other, June said, “Cory, dear, as a guest, I don’t suppose you’d like to say grace?”

Cory stammered and stared across the table at Nolan. She hadn’t come from a religious family, and she never thought much about religion, really. She believed in God, in a sort of nebulous way. And she wondered sometimes whether she was doing Nolan a disservice by not talking much about religion. She’d never said grace in her life.

Havoc bailed her out. “I got it, Ma.”

Apparently, his volunteering to say grace was some sort of miracle, because Sophie’s head jerked up from where she’d already been looking down at her folded hands, and June’s mouth dropped open. Even Havoc’s father reacted to that.

June’s gape turned into a grin. “Joe! Mercy! Well, go on, then.” Then, oddly, she looked at Cory. “And thank you.”

Then everybody bent their heads—Cory checked to make sure that Nolan was, too—and Havoc spoke words he’d obviously still had memorized from childhood—when, judging from his family’s reaction, he’d last said the words: “Bless this food to our use, and us to thy service. Fill our hearts with grateful praise. Amen.”

Cory turned and studied him. Those few words seemed to add a new layer to her emerging understanding of this man seated next to her. She didn’t even know why—it was just a standard little prayer, one he obviously knew by rote, and on this day, in his family home, she was surrounded by new insights. But still, this moment changed the picture of him.

He passed her the carrots and caught her staring. A crease moved through his brow, but he didn’t say anything, and the moment passed. She took the carrots and spooned some onto her plate, passing the bowl on.

For most of the meal, the discussion was light, focused on Cory and Nolan. Her boy, to his great credit, was open to all the questions June asked him, about school and his interests, and what he knew about farm life. He was still shy, so he didn’t do much more than answer the questions put to him, but he answered them fully, and with a touch of the wry good humor she loved in him.

He had changed a lot in the months they’d lived in Signal Bend. She could no longer describe her boy as angry—not as a state of being. He still had a volatile temper and a sharp tongue, but it was more situational than it had been. When they were living with Lindsay and Alex—and, really, since Matt moved out—Nolan had spent a lot of his life with a dark, storming cloud over his head. It got him in trouble at school, it kept him from making friends—it got in his way everywhere.

These days, he was much more mellow. School wasn’t a great experience overall, but he was doing well in his classes and not ending up in detention or worse—not even one disciplinary action yet this year, and the first semester was almost over. He hadn’t made any friends that she knew of, but he was a bit too emo for the country boy crowd.

Except where the Horde were concerned. That’s where he’d made his friends. Cory listened to the way Nolan talked with Havoc, just casually, when they were sitting in the living room or wherever, and she saw a road emerging before Nolan that she wasn’t sure she liked. No—she was pretty sure she didn’t like it. She hadn’t said anything, because he was so happy and at ease with those friends, and because they were both happy and at ease with Havoc in their lives, and because she hadn’t sorted out exactly what her reservations about Nolan and the Horde were yet—other than the orgiastic parties, at least. The Horde were rough, but they were respected. They were the most important people in this tiny town. Still, she wanted Nolan to see more options than just the Horde.

She refocused to hear Sophie asking Nolan if he’d ever ridden a horse.

“No. We never really lived in the country before. I mean, Springfield’s not like a big city or anything, but still. I never was around farms and stuff until we moved here.”

Sophie turned to Cory with a sweet smile. “How about you, Cory? Do you ride?”

“I did a little, when I was in Girl Scouts, but not much, no.”

“I should meet you over at the B&B when the weather gets warmer. Badger has some great trail horses, and I’ll bring Mabel over.” She turned back to Nolan. “Riding horses is way cooler than dumb motorcycles.”

Havoc laughed. “I do both, Shorts, and I can say that’s a falsehood. But”—he turned to Nolan—“Soph is a speed demon on a horse, so you want to watch her. She’s a show rider. You know what barrel racing is?”

Cory did and was impressed. Nolan shook his head. But the tone of the table had changed with Havoc’s last sentence. He’d struck a sore nerve. But nobody said anything—Sophie just turned her face down to her plate. So did June.

Havoc’s father, though, had looked up, engaged in the discussion for the first time that Cory could see. She looked over at Nolan, who was waiting to meet her eyes. They sent each other a silent communication that went something like,
Oh boy. This doesn’t look good.

At first, Havoc was quiet, too. Cory knew that he’d picked up on the change; he was good at reading people (which spoke to a depth of empathy he generally preferred not to expose). But then his vibe changed; she felt a new tension in his body sitting next to hers, and she realized that he knew, or at least sensed, why the tone had changed, and he was going to strum that sore nerve.

“So, you gonna train up the colt—Spirit—for the ring, Shorts? You should. That’s a lively boy, and he’s not gonna be too big. He’d be good.”

Sophie looked at their father. June murmured, “Joe, please.”

For the first time at the table, Don Mariano spoke. “About time to wean that horse, get him ready to sell. Don’t need no show horses on a farm. Don’t need horses, period. Your sister’s got Mabel. That’s enough. Not a conversation I’m havin’ again.”

Havoc pushed. Cory could feel in the rigidity of his thigh against hers that he was…not scared, exactly, but not in his comfort zone, either, and she thought again of his scars. “Sophie gets you some ribbons, gets Spirit noticed, could get you some attention. Maybe turn him to stud. You couldn’t have bred Mabel just for the grand you’d get for a pinto play horse. Mabel breeds for speed and agility, but she’s gettin’ old.”