Seeing that, Hank’s cock twitched in his hand. “Jesus,” he grumbled then took a finger and ran it through her wet folds, her eyes went dark and a soft sound hummed in the back of her throat. He brought it to his mouth and sucked the digit inside, the sweet tangy juice of her burst on his tongue causing another twitch of his cock. He whispered deeply, “Sure does.”
Arissa couldn’t take her eyes from him, the sight he made. God, she was completely hooked and it was because she was that some of the happiness faded remembering the evening they’d spent with his parents.
Hank rolled off the bed and started for the bathroom. “Saw the look change, Sweetheart, gonna talk about that after we clean up.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth and cleaned her. Hank went back to the bathroom and tossed the cloth into the hamper, took a piss and returned to Arissa. When he joined her under the covers, he pulled her to him. She settled in and wrapped an arm around his waist.
“Wanna share what’s on your mind?” Hank whispered while playing with the brown strands of her hair spread across his chest. Arissa tensed and Hank mumbled, “Wow, that didn’t feel good.”
She glanced up at him, and couldn’t help the smile because no one ever knew her as well as he did and they were only just getting started. She didn’t want to ruin the beauty of the moment, but letting her thoughts fester wasn’t a good idea, either. It was a fine line because it was Hank’s mom and she barely knew the woman. She decided to share what was bothering her the most at the moment. “Your parents have serious concerns about the spread.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I won’t do it, but like I told them, it’s your decision.”
Hank tried to rub the worry from Arissa’s forehead with his thumb, watched the wrinkles smooth out and said, “They’ve lived the small town life for…” He paused, gave it thought and continued, “My whole life, Baby. They just like to keep to themselves. They’ll get on board with it.”
Arissa didn’t think it was just the small town life. His parents had been aggressive, his mother downright hostile and insulting. How did she say that to him? Not easily, so she didn’t and instead asked, “I was looking at the pictures your mom has around the house.” She didn’t share that she thought it a little odd how many pictures there were of him. “You were a really cute kid.” She glanced up and grinned. “Not surprising considering how you turned out. So tell me, what’s your favorite beach? I saw a few pics of you in the backyard in a sandbox, adorable pictures, but I’d like to see you now on the beach, all hot and tan.” She grinned again. “Maybe we could skip out for a weekend. I’ve not been to the beaches around here in a long, long time.”
Hank looked up, his eyes following the white border of the tray ceiling. A vivid memory popped into his head and without thought he started talking. “Only remember going to the beach once when I was around five, maybe six, and we were there for about an hour before my dad scooped me up and just about ran to the car while my mom quickly packed up the blanket.” Silence followed that confession, the air suddenly felt heavy, but Hank forged on. “Sal had given me a bright red bucket to take with me, my mom was in such a rush she left it there.” He paused. “Now that I think back on it, she left my blue truck too. On our way home, I asked why we were leaving.” Hank chuckled. “Well, I cried why are we leaving and Mom had said nasty weather was coming but I don’t remember any storm hitting Summerville.” Hank shrugged. When Arissa stayed quiet Hank went on. “Noah, my best friend all through school, when we graduated, we, and a few guys and girls, had plans to go to Myrtle Beach but Mom got sick so I didn’t go.”
Unease moved through Arissa listening to Hank. Why hadn’t his parents taken him back to the beach? She could tell just from his voice that he’d loved it, as little time as he’d spent there, so why not bring him back? For parents that were as protective as them, so focused on their son’s happiness it seemed kind of contrary. She hadn’t realized she intended to speak that thought out loud until she heard the words tumbling out. “They never took you back?”
Hank started playing with Arissa’s hair again, looping strands around his fingers, watching the movement. “No, not that I remember. But when I was sixteen I fell off Noah’s brother’s four-wheeler, hit my head. Nothing bad, no blood but my mom told me I had a concussion and that some of my memories were erased.”
She moved then, lifted up on her elbow. “You hit your head that hard?” Her eyes moving over him. “Where?”
Hank’s hand dropped to his side when Arissa rose so quickly. He looked into her concerned eyes. “No, no,” he pressed. “Not hard enough to leave a bump and it was on the side of my head. But Ma took me to the doc, and she told me he said I had a concussion and it was possible that I could lose some of my memories.” Hank shrugged as his eyebrows lifted. “And that’s why I don’t remember much of my childhood.”
She was only partly teasing when she said, “As sheriff I imagine you’ve gotten into more than a few rows with people. Surprised your memories weren’t jarred back into place.”
Hank chuckled at Arissa’s comment, but still thinking about places to visit he confessed, “Noah went to school out in Tennessee. Went out there to visit
