Chapter Fifty-Three RHETT

I’m spending my first Thanksgiving holiday away from my family and it’s a different vibe, hanging out with the Lancasters.

Dad has a Thursday night football game to coach and Mom is with him because she didn’t want to leave him alone for the holiday. Callahan is with them as well, because he wanted to go to the game, and Dad promised him he could get him down on the sidelines at one point, so I don’t blame him for going. They asked if I wanted to attend too, but I turned them down, much to my mother’s brief disappointment.

When I told her I was invited to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with Willow’s family, Mom brightened right up. She likes the two of us together—she told me so. And I have to agree.

I like the two of us together too.

Iris’s family house is under an unexpected and extensive renovation thanks to a once in a century—that’s how the weather forecasters described it—and extremely early snowstorm that came through the area. A small part of the roof caved due to a weak structural part and the heavy snow sitting on top of it. Considering the roof fell through where the kitchen and dining area is, they had to cancel their annual Thanksgiving plans.

And now the family event is at Willow’s family house.

Their house is huge too, and crowded with Lancasters everywhere you look. I’ve come here before but it was always a brief stop before going over to Iris’s house—it’s bigger and full of all of those old money Lancaster vibes that this family seems to get off on.

Not that this house isn’t full of old money vibes. They just don’t have a ballroom—that is literally one of the only differences. Well, that and all the old-timey portraits of various Lancasters from over the years. Every one of those dudes looks like he’d gain pleasure out of stringing me up by my balls.

The portraits—much like the statues on campus—seriously creep me out.

Currently I’m on my way upstairs, trailing after Willow who is wearing a black dress that is borderline criminal. It gives the illusion of being modest thanks to it covering up the majority of her body—it’s got long sleeves and a high neck with a collar and a white ribbon tied in a bow at the center. Where the collar buttons at the back of her neck is the only flash of skin I can see. The tiniest slit offers just a tease of skin.

The issue I have is with the skirt. It’s fuckin’ short. No other words for it, and as my girl climbs the stairs, I can see the bottom half of her ass cheeks peeking from beneath the skirt with her every step. Yes, I’m practically on top of her and looking for that glimpse of ass cheek, but damn.

The skirt is dangerously short and she looks dangerously hot.

Doesn’t help that her hair is pulled into an elegant knot on top of her head and she’s got these giant pearls in her ears. The cute little white socks and heeled Mary Jane shoes offer a sweet and innocent touch. She loves playing up this girly side of herself. I love it too.

Behind closed doors, though? The innocent act flies right out the window. She’s always just as hungry for me as I am for her. Sometimes maybe more so.

Like tonight.

Halfway through dinner she rested her hand on my thigh—we were seated right next to each other. Her grandma was talking to her about some art gallery she went to in the city and how much she wanted Willow to go too, all while her precious granddaughter was feeling me up at the dinner table.

It was hot, I can’t lie.

Now she’s going to show me her room. That’s what she told her parents, who weren’t really paying attention. There’s so much family to distract them, and Willow is taking full advantage of it.

I am too.

“I can see your ass,” I whisper to her once we’re finally at the top of the stairs, my hands on her hips as I pull her into me. “Your skirt is too short.”

“You were so close I could practically feel your breath on the back of my thighs,” she says, amusement tingeing her voice.

“You liked it.” I kiss the side of her exposed neck. I usually like her hair down but when she wears it up, I can’t deny it gives me easier access.

“I definitely did.” She comes to a stop, causing me to bump into her plump ass and I choke down a strangled groan. “I’m not wearing panties.”

I let the groan fly because fuck me running, this girl loves to torture me every chance she gets.

Within a minute we’re stumbling into her room, my hands on her waist and about to pin her to the door so I can kiss the shit out of her when I realize we’re not alone. There’s someone in her room. Two someones.

“Oh my God, is nothing sacred?” Willow practically wails at Iris, who is currently wrapped up in Brooks’s arms on top of Willow’s bed.

Brooks scrambles to get off of his girlfriend, but Iris just lies there in the center of the mattress with a blissful smile on her face. “You have such a comfy bed.”

“You chose my room because you knew no one would come look for you here,” Willow accuses.

Iris stretches her arms over her head before she sits up, pushing her hair away from her face. “You’re right. Hey, at least we’re not naked.”

“Iris,” Brooks warns, though he sounds pained.

“Calm down, Brooksie.” She hops off the bed, patting me on the arm as she walks by. “Have fun with your girlfriend.”

They’re gone in seconds, and Willow makes sure and turns the lock into place on the door. “I’m sure they’ve had sex in my bed before.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.” A tiny shiver runs through her as she approaches me, her lips curling into a seductive smile. “We can forget about them though.”

She reaches for me but I rest my hands on her hips yet again, stopping her. “I want to see your room first.”

The disappointment on her face is obvious. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard enough about this room over the last few months. I want to see it.” It’s true. I want to check it out, even though I’m not a big art advocate or whatever you want to call it. But I know enough to realize that she’s got some valuable art pieces in here, and her mom told me she’s an eclectic collector.

My girlfriend is a mystery. She keeps me guessing. She surprises me with every little bit she shares about herself, and I’m pretty sure I fall more and more in love with her every day.

I’m a lucky man.

I wander around her massive bedroom with her following close behind, examining the paintings on the wall. The photos tucked away in the corner of the mirror that sits above a vanity table. One of the photos is of us from homecoming night, me still in my uniform and her looking like the goddamn queen she is wearing her crown. There’s another photo of me and her and Iris and Brooks from the annual Halloween party.

And my new favorite photo of us after we won our latest playoff game. I’m a sweaty, dirty mess and she’s beautiful, pressing her cheek to mine for a selfie, the both of us smiling and looking so damn happy.

“Come see this piece.” She grabs my hand and drags me away from her mirror, stopping in front of a massive painting. As I study it though, I realize it’s not a painting at all. It looks like someone kissed a canvas over and over again in different shades of lipstick. “This has hung in my room since I was a baby.”

“Did your mom make this for your dad?” I send her a questioning look.

“No.” She shakes her head, grinning at me before she turns her attention to the piece. “It was created by someone else. A woman kissed this canvas repeatedly for the artist, with every shade of Chanel lipstick that exists. My mother fell in love with it when she was young, and she told my dad about it.”

I grab her hand and pull her so she’s standing in front of me, her perfect ass snug against my dick, the both of us facing the art piece. “Does it have a name?”

“It was called A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime, and when my mother first wanted it, it belonged to someone else who wasn’t willing to sell it. Once my father found out that she wanted this piece, he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. He got the piece for her and gave it to her on her birthday, which is on Christmas,” Willow explains, leaning her head against my chest.

“How much did he spend?”

“Over a million dollars.”

I whistle. That’s a lot of money—and competition. How can I live up to that? “When exactly did he give it to her?”

“When she turned eighteen.”

I’m incredulous. I can’t imagine spending that kind of money on a gift for Willow because I don’t necessarily have that kind of money—my parents do. But I’m not a Lancaster so there’s the difference. “Are you serious?”

She laughs. “My dad is all about the grand gesture.”

Now we’re talking mega competition. “I love a grand gesture.”

“Do you now?”

I start kissing her neck while she keeps staring at the art hanging on her wall. “Definitely.”

“I wanted to take it to school and hang it in my dorm suite, but my parents said absolutely not. I suppose I don’t blame them, but I miss looking at it every day.”

An idea forms in my head but I keep it to myself. “I wouldn’t let you take it to school either if I spent a million dollars on it.”

“It’s worth more than that now.”

I pause, my lips still against her neck. “Like how much?”

“Closer to five.”

I pull away from her so I can look into her eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not.” She slowly shakes her head, smiling.

“You’ve got five million dollars just hanging on your wall. A canvas with lipstick all over it.”

“It’s so much more than that.” Willow turns to face me, slinging her arms around my neck. “It’s a representation of my parents’ love. That my father was and still is willing to do whatever it takes to make my mom happy. She told me when she received that gift, she knew they would be together forever.”

“Aw, so romantic.” I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss the tip of her nose. “They’re setting standards that are impossible to meet, you know.”

She laughs. “I don’t need a five-million-dollar art piece, Rhett. I just want you.”

“And I can give you me.” My lips find hers, lingering for a bit before I eventually pull away. “All night long if you want.”

I kiss her again, getting lost in her taste. The glide of her tongue against mine. The low sounds she makes in her throat when I slip my hands beneath her skirt and grip her ass cheeks in my hands. I can feel the heat of her pussy pressed against my erection, and somehow I’ve guided her over to the door, where I’ve got her pressed firmly against it. I slip my hands beneath her thighs and she goes with me when I lift, wrapping her legs around my waist, her shoes falling off her feet and landing on the floor. I push her into the door, letting her feel what she does to me. Feeling what I do to her because I can tell. My girl is wet and ready for me.

“We probably shouldn’t do this,” she whispers against my lips at one point and I pull away, giving her the power and control to end it right now. We can straighten ourselves up and head back downstairs. Hang out with the family and watch the game on TV because it’s going to come on soon and I promised my dad I would watch it.

But then Willow sneaks her hand in between us, her fingers fumbling to open my khakis and I don’t bother helping her. She’ll get them undone. And when she slips her fingers into my boxer briefs and curls them around my aching dick, I forget about everything else, even football, and concentrate on the sensation of her fingers squeezing my cock.

Before I completely lose it, I shove her dress up, exposing her bottom half, my fingers slipping between her thighs. She’s hot and wet, and from those whimpers that I keep hearing, I’m guessing she wants it as bad as I do. I shove my khakis down with her help and within seconds I’m pushing inside of her, a muffled groan leaving me when I feel all of that tight wet heat surrounding me.

Pausing, I press my forehead to hers and breathe deep, trying to gain some control. She’s on birth control so we’re not using condoms anymore and I’m still not used to how fucking amazing it feels, being inside of her like this. Nothing blocking us--just skin on skin.

“Hurry,” she encourages. “They might start looking for us.”

That’s all I need to hear. I fuck my girl hard and steady, keeping up the rhythm I know she likes best, angling my hips and aiming for that secret spot deep inside her that makes her moan. I find her clit and rub it, my mouth fused with hers, my thrusting causing her body to knock against the door every few seconds. We’re so caught up in it all that I don’t even care if anyone can hear us, and I don’t think she does either, which is really fucking dangerous.

It’s only when we’ve both come and we’re clinging to each other, me panting into her neck when we hear a tiny voice sound from the other side of her door.

“You okay in there, Willow?”

I meet Willow’s gaze, my heart stopping. “Who the fuck is that?” I whisper at her.

“Um, I’m fine!” Willow calls, her eyes wide and full of panic.

“I thought I heard something knocking.”

“I dropped something and it uh, hit the door,” Willow explains, sounding completely out of breath.

“They’re going to serve pumpkin pie soon! Come downstairs when you can. Tell your boyfriend too.”

We hear footsteps grow distant, until they’re completely gone.

“I think that was my cousin. One of the twins.” Willow makes a face. “Oh God, what if she tells someone what she heard?”

“That won’t happen,” I reassure her with all the confidence I can muster but come on.

She might tell someone. Meaning, we need to head to the dining room. Now.

***

We cleaned ourselves up and made it downstairs in record time, entering the dining area just as Willow’s mom brought out a pumpkin pie, Iris’s mom following right after her with an apple pie. I take a slice of both and head for the game room as they call it, where there’s a massive big-screen TV and the football game is currently playing.

“That your dad right there?” Willow’s father points his fork at the screen.

“Yeah.” I smile when I see him standing on the sidelines holding his clipboard in front of his face so no one can figure out what he’s saying.

“So freaking cool that your dad coaches for the NFL.” Willow’s youngest brother Beau’s eyes light up.

“It’s pretty freaking cool,” I agree, settling onto the couch right next to Iris, who is cozied up with Brooks. “I need to talk to you,” I tell her.

She’s frowning. “What about?”

I can see Willow talking to her mom and aunt, her expression radiant, her hair appearing ready to fall out of the bun. I would do anything for this girl, and I’m about to prove that very fact.

“A present for Willow. I have this idea …”