Informed Consent (9 page)

“Use a
fork, dude.”

William
almost dropped the freaking plate.
 
He looked over at his brother in law.

“Daaamm,
son.
 
Scared the shit outta me.”

His
brother-in-law pulled a lot of air into his lungs and shook his head, slowly
exhaling.
 
Some weird yoga shit,
maybe?

William
shoved the plate into the microwave and pushed buttons.
 
Waiting, he shuffled and popped,
demonstrating a hip new street dance move, shoulders, hips, head, everything
flowing into the move. “Baabby”

His
fingers snapped and the microwave chimed at the same time. He grinned.

“So
Andrew, my man!” William slid into a chair and pulled the plate towards him.

“Fork.”

“That’s
right. Fork. Man where the hell are the forks?”

He danced
his way thru opening a few drawers, chose a utensil and danced his way back to
the table, sitting down.

“How was
the day, Andrew my brotha?”
 
Ducking his head, he shoved an amazing amount of pasta into his
mouth.
 
“Good? Bad? Completely
indifferent?”

“Nothing
too interesting.
 
I saw you.
 
How was school?”

“School!
School! Man, there’s a question! You saw me?
 
Dude! You shouldda said Yo! When was that? Say!” William
pointed at his plate.

“Check it
out. Sister’s gone Martha Stewart since she signed on with you.”

There
were times when a man needed to be crafty. He could be crafty.

“Nice
moves.” Andrew nodded his head.
 
“Complicated series of maneuvers. Won’t work though.”

William
sighed, shrugged.
 
“Man’s gotta
try.”

“He does
indeed. Tell me.”

Never let
it be said William Morrow didn’t know when to fold a dead hand.

“I slept
in.”
 
He grinned at his brother in
law.
 
“I gotta establish a habit.
Did you know that takes three weeks?”

The man
grunted and got up from his chair.
 
He whapped William in the head.
 
It carried the slightest sting.
 
“I suggest your habit forms a hell of a lot faster than that.
 
But for now let’s say you’re grounded
for three weeks, eh?”

Dude
walked out.
 
William got up and
stalked from the room, the novelty of a saved plate of pasta forgotten.
 
He trudged through the house trying to
locate his brothers.
 
One of the
monster dogs Lucas always brought home loomed up suddenly from the floor in
front of him and he almost swallowed his tongue.

He
stormed into the room he and his brothers thought of as their lair.
 
“Smooth move you little creeps.
 
Which one of you sold me out to dude?”

“Zander.”
Lucas didn’t bother to look up from a massively successful round of zombie
killing.

“Thanks,
you little geek.” William ground his knuckles into the kid’s head.
 
“I’m fucking grounded.”

That
caught Lucas’ attention.
 
“You’re
grounded? No shit!”

“Three
freaking weeks.”

“Dee?”

“Not
likely.” He snorted.
 
“Her frickin
husband.”

Lucas
shook his head.
 
“Things are
getting weird.
 
The man made
dinner.
 
Dee tried to save your ass
man, she tried to distract him and when she couldn’t she threw one doozy of a
fit.”

“I think
she got into trouble.”
 
Zander
looked worried.

William
snorted. “She’s his wife. She can do any damn thing she pleases.”

“I think
she got in trouble because of you!”
 
Zander screamed it this time and William grabbed the twerp off the floor
to shut him up.

Damn if
the little geek twerp didn’t clamp his teeth down on his hand.
 
Full strength. “Fuck!”
 

William
got both hands around his brother’s waist and tossed him across the room into a
beanbag chair.

Zander
was a tough little s.o.b.
 
He was
up and storming across the room, head lowered, leaping the ottoman, doing a Mel
Gibson Braveheart routine.

William
stretched out his arms. “Whoa! Easy little dude!”
 
This time he tossed the kid further.

 
The kid stayed down.
 
William strolled over to take a quick
check, make sure the brat was still alive.

Zander
leapt from the floor like a freaking werewolf and latched onto William, a small
fierce bundle of teeth, flailing legs and gouging fingers.

“What the
hell are you doing?” His sister appeared suddenly out of nowhere, trying to
pull the little monkey off his back.
 

Mad now,
William punched him in the side.
 
Zander gasped in pain and Denise got a death hold on two clumps of
William’s hair and pulled, a Xena war cry ripping from her mouth.

“Jesus
Christ in a Fucking Basket. Why did I even come home?”

“I’m
asking myself that question.” Andrew’s voice was like dry ice, sneaking up on
the combatants, freezing everyone. But no one gave any ground.

The man
started issuing orders:“Denise.
 
Let go of William and get up stairs.
 
Turn off the X box, Lucas. Put rough hands on that kid again
William and I will personally take you down.”

“Don’t
talk to my sister like that!” Zander’s voice was shrill with tears. “And don’t
threaten my brother!”

“Are you
threatening my brother?” Denise kept hold of William’s hair but turned to glare
at her husband.

William
brought both arms up under Denise’s and broke her hold on his hair.
 
But it fucking hurt and he said so.

“Sweet
lord. Denise! Upstairs.”
 
Andrew
barked, and then advanced on her.

She
moved.

Next, he
jabbed a finger at Lucas.
 
“You!
Sit down!
 
Zander! Knock it
off.”
 
The kid had begun to kick
Andrew’s shins.

William
found his sense of humor and started to laugh but ended up perilously close to
tears.
 
He sank down on the couch
next to Lucas.
 
Andrew proceeded to
give a long lecture, all about responsibility and shit not flowing down hill
and how things were going to tighten up around here. At some point Zander
squeezed in between him and Lucas so William patted the kid on the head and
waited for the lecture to end.

***

Denise
lay curled protectively into the armchair, arms locked around her knees.
 
She stared at Andrew when he came in,
lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. After a long time Andrew jammed a few
more pillows under his neck and straightened slightly.
 

“Your
brothers are pretty out of control.”

“They
need time.”

Andrew
said nothing.

She tried
again.
 
“My parents weren’t big on
the discipline side of parenting.”

She got a
rude snorting sound.
 

“Your
parents weren’t big on any aspect of parenting.”

That was
true, so she said nothing.

Neither
did he.

The clock
on the far wall ticked. Otherwise the house was silent.

She gave
in abruptly when she couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

“Would
you get it over with? I can’t stand the suspense.
 
Go ahead and roll out your next kinky disciplinary action.”

He looked
over at her.
 
“I’m tired.
 
I’m not used to this much excitement
after a day at work.”

“Maybe
you’d be happier living in your apartment during the week?”

He
scowled. “Nice try.”

Denise
sighed.
 
“I lost the thingie.”

Andrew
cocked his head. “Come again?”

“The
thingie.
 
I lost it.”

He sat up
straight and the corner of his mouth tried to tick up.

“I heard
the screaming and grabbed my robe and ran.”

“You
don’t know where it is?”

She shook
her head.

“You’ve
looked?”

Denise
nodded.

The idiot
burst into laughter.

“Come
here.” Andrew patted the bed next to his hip.

She
looked at him suspiciously.

“I’m not
going to smack you, Denise.
 
Come
here.”

She
wasn’t convinced, but sat down almost out of his reach. He grinned and leaned
forward, easily catching her arm and pulling her down next to him.

Still
suspicious, she lay stiff and tried to calm her heart.
 
His hand found its way up into her hair
and stroked.She gritted her teeth.
 
The bastard.
 
The sneaky
bastard. If there was a woman alive who could resist having her hair stroked
Denise had never met her.

She would
remain vigilant, vigilant like a hawk.
 
This man had spanked her, publicly.
 
He’d shoved things up inside her very private
not-made-for-entry zone.
 
He’d made
dinner.
 
God knows what he’d get up
to next.

His hand
lingered on her brow and he flicked his pinkie lightly across it, then dropped
it down further to caress her eyelid.

Her spine
was melting into the mattress.
 
She
struggled to remain hawk like.

A finger
traced the curve of her ear.

Her toes
curled.

He pushed
himself up on one elbow.
 
Denise
kept her eyes closed because she sure the heck couldn’t meet his eyes.

Shit.
 
There were his lips. Soft. Gentle. Her
brow.
 
Her cheekbones. Christ she’d
always been a sucker for kisses on her cheekbones and he KNEW that.

A finger,
she no longer knew which one, traced her lips.
 
He began undoing buttons
 
and paused, taking a break to graze a finger across her
breast. Or there, that was the nipple between the thumb and forefinger roll.

And that
was a moan.

From her.

Goddammit.

“Tell me
everything, Baby.” He crooned the words in her ear. Swear to god.
 
That was a croon and before this moment
she didn’t think she’d even heard the word. How could she think?
 
Her entire body was leaping with joy at
the prospect of another orgasm. Or three.

“Come on,
Sweet thing.
 
Confess.”

She
stiffened.
 
This was a terrible
trap.

His mouth
hovered, warm, over her nipple.

She
unstiffened. His mouth closed over the distended nub, and she moaned again at
the damp warm luxury. He shifted, and his weight settled on her.
 
His erection, hot and long, pressed
against her girl parts. His lips moved to her throat and he licked at the pulse
and beat of blood at its base.

She
whimpered.

“Every
bad little thing you did today. Let’s hear it.”

 
What’s a woman to do? She’d always know
she was a terrible hussy.

“Everything?”
She breathed the question into his mouth because it had come back to hers.

“Ummhmmm.”
 
His tongue tangled hers.
 
“Let’s hear it.”

She
pressed up, wanting that length inside her.
 
Shifting, his hand traveled to her zipper, flicked up the
tab and then stopped.

“I went
back to sleep after you woke me up.”

The
zipper gave somewhat.

“The boys
got to school late.”

The
zipper opened completely, his fingers stroked thru her panties and over her
mons.

“How many
boys got to school late?”

She
arched up into that hand. “Two.”

The hand
swept back, under her, raising her slightly and the other took hold of her
pants.

Thank
god, they were going down.

“I didn’t
give them breakfast.”

His lips
found the hollow at the base of her throat again.