Summer Break (Phoebe & Madsen Part 2) Page 2
“I can. I guess I did what my parents asked of me in college.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t get pregnant and shame my father, and I am happy when I’m with you. That’s all my mom has wanted, for me to be happy.”
“Well, I agree with your mom. And, honestly? Your dad, too. Not the shaming, but I don’t think we’re ready for a little Madsen, yet. I mean, he’d clearly be the cutest and coolest kid around but not just yet.”
I watch her eyes widen as I speak the word “yet,” and I smack a kiss to her lips and turn her toward the pathway. A smack on the ass causes Phoebe to yelp as she turns and shoots me a mischievous look. “I know where you sleep, Secksin, don’t push it.”
“Oh, I’ll push it all right,” I tease as we approach the backyard.
“There you are! Honey, where have you been? Hello, Madsen.”
“Mrs. Stromberg. You look lovely.” I’ve heard buddies complain about their girlfriend’s mothers, going on and on about how annoying they are. I’m very lucky in that regard, Mrs. S has never been anything other than welcoming and kind to me.
“Oh, you charmer. And, please call me Evelyn.” Bashful for only a fraction of second, Mrs. S, err . . . Evelyn, glances toward Phoebe, who rolls her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am, Evelyn. The party looks great,” I say, gesturing toward the backyard.
“Thank you. Sweetie, you look beautiful. Happy birthday.” Evelyn pulls Phoebe into a warm embrace, and I watch as Mr. Stromberg makes his way across the patio toward us. Carrying a glass of amber liquid, his stride is determined, but the expression on his face is one of an adoring father.
Mr. S has always been nice to me and treated me like a member of the family. As Duncan’s best friend and roommate for the last four years, I’ve been to the house many times. It’s only been since Phoebe and I have been dating that he’s actually talked to me like an adult and not some kid that his son hangs out with.
“Sir,” I say as I extend my hand in greeting.
“Madsen, how are you, son?”
“Good, thank you.”
Mr. Stromberg will always be “sir” or “Mr. S” until he tells me otherwise. He embraces Phoebe and wishes her a happy birthday. After our short chat with her parents, Phoebe and I say hellos to a few aunts and uncles on our way to the bar. I’m driving but know we’ll be here for at least four hours, so I get a beer from the bartender and order Phoebe a glass of wine while she talks with her cousins. The progression from Duncan’s best friend to Phoebe’s boyfriend, I don’t care what she says, has been seamless when it comes to the family. Thankfully introductions aren’t necessary. I hand Phoebe her wine and leave her with the ladies while I seek out Duncan and a group of our friends.
After the cocktail hour, Mr. S takes to the microphone and asks everyone to find their seats. The taco truck is a hit with the younger crowd, and everyone grumbles at losing their place in line. With a reassurance that not only will the tacos still be there when he’s done but a toast is coming, which includes more free booze, the line at the taco truck disburses and everyone locates a seat at the round tables. Phoebe, Duncan, Kelsey, and I take our assigned spots at the head table next to Evelyn.
Always the perfect host, Mr. Stromberg thanks everyone for coming, wishes a happy birthday to Phoebe and Duncan, and congratulates the four of us and our friends in attendance on college graduation. I tune him out as I watch Phoebe watch her father. As much as she hates the over-the-top party her parents give, she loves her parents and admires her father. When he calls her and Duncan to the front she hesitates and looks at me. I wink at her, and she smiles back. Standing and walking to her dad, he shakes Dunc’s hand before placing his arm around Phoebe’s shoulder and pulling her to his side.
“These two are the light of our lives. We are very proud of what they have both accomplished. Duncan is engaged to Kelsey, who we love and can’t wait to officially join our family, and Phoebe is . . . well, she’s with Madsen, who is a wonderful young man and treats her like any father would wish for their daughter to be treated.”
I’m taken aback by his words. I know Mr. S likes me fine, but to hear him announce it in this capacity is unexpected. I look at Kelsey, who looks equally as surprised as I am. I shrug, and she makes a weird face before looking at the trio in front of us as he signals Evelyn to join them. After a few more words and the promise of cake soon, Mr. S starts telling a story about when the family would take trips to California for summer vacation. I remember Duncan telling me how much fun they had at a beach house when they were little, but as they started high school and had other commitments, those trips stopped.
“That’s why when my beautiful wife wanted to do something over the top for the kids to celebrate not only their birthdays but also their accomplishments, we decided to give them a piece of their childhood.” Phoebe and Duncan look at each other confused and then at each of their parents. When they look at Kelsey and me, we both shake our heads, signaling we have no idea what is going on.
Mr. S pulls two keychains with a single key on each from his pocket, handing one to Phoebe and the other to Duncan. Someone shouts from the back of the patio that he’s up for adoption if houses are gifts when you turn twenty-three and Evelyn shushes him.
“Dad? What’s this for?” Duncan asks.
“Son, those are keys to the California house.”
“You’re giving us a house?” Duncan’s voice increases ten decibels before he clears it.
“Not the house itself, Dunc. But yes, the house is yours for the summer. Take Madsen and Kelsey and live it up. You only have the summer after college once, and you should have a great time. What better way than on a California beach?”
Holy shit. We’re going to California. Just as I think the words, the DJ begins playing LL Cool J’s “Going Back to Cali” and the entire room breaks out in applause. I look at Phoebe and her expression is less enthusiastic than that of her twin. She looks horrified. This can’t be good.
“Okay, Tipsy let’s get you some water.”
“Mads, don’t be a buzzkill. I’m not tipsy. I’m having FUN!”
And on that note, I casually take the wine glass from Phoebe’s hand and replace it with water. I love my girl, but I’ve been down this road and tipsy fueled by emotion is never a good look on Phoebe and usually ends with tears. I look over to where Duncan and Kelsey are dancing and wonder if I should rally the troops and head home.
“Mads?”
I turn to Phoebe and see her eyes wide and her skin ashen. Oh no.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I think we have to put me to bed.”
“I agree. Let me find your mom.”
I sit Phoebe at a table with her water and scan the backyard for Evelyn. Once I spot her, I make my way across the patio to where she’s standing with a group of ladies. The moment she spots me, she excuses herself and greets me halfway.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. Do you think we can stay here tonight? Phoebe isn’t feeling well.”
“Oh dear. Of course. I already had the rooms made up just in case. Does she need anything?”
“Nah, she’ll be fine. I should get her to bed. Would you mind letting Duncan and Kelsey know we’re staying tonight?”
“Of course, dear. Let me know if you need anything.”
I excuse myself and make my way to Phoebe. Before I return to Phoebe, lying with her head on the table, I grab two bottles of water from the bartender and stuff them in my pockets.
Once we’ve made our way inside and up the staircase to Phoebe’s old bedroom, I open the door and guide her to the bed. When I’m kneeling before her, pulling off her shoes, I hear the first sniffle.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
“I don’t know. I . . . I’m sorry. I got drunk.” I toss her shoes to the side and kick off my own while I remove the contents of my pockets then my belt. Phoebe sits on the edge of the bed staring off in the distance. Once my shirt is discarded, I pull her up and help
her out of her dress before pulling back the covers of the bed. Phoebe lies on her side with her eyes closed. Once my pants are off and I’m in only my T-shirt and boxer briefs, I climb in beside her.
“Hey, look at me,” I say, pushing her hair out of her face.
Phoebe opens her eyes and looks at me, crestfallen. I have no idea what set her off, but I know something is bothering her. It’s more than this party. It’s more than graduation and turning twenty-three.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t even know what it is. I’m probably just overwhelmed and drunk. I should have eaten more than a taco and some chips. You, mister,” she says while trying to tap my nose and instead poking me in the eye, “should’ve made me eat more.”
I chuckle and tug her toward me. “It’s completely my fault you and Kelsey slaughtered three bottles of white wine. You’re right. I have failed you. Forgive me?”
“I suppose. I mean, you are kind of hot. Even if you insist on labeling everything.”
I kiss her lips gently as she yawns and her breathing slows and I know she’s asleep. Even as she sleeps, I see Phoebe’s mind working. If she’d let go of the thirty different arguments she has with herself everyday about what she’s doing, what the future holds, and who we are as a couple—or non-couple—we’d be golden. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll tell her about the interviews and New York.
First, we sleep.
The upside to sleeping at the Strombergs? A bed that feels like a cloud and the million thread count sheets. The downside? My morning wood and not being able to do anything about it.
“Oh my God! Kill me. Who let me drink all that wine?”
I laugh at Phoebe’s dramatics before I realize it isn’t Phoebe but Kelsey talking. I sit up and note Kelsey is cuddled up behind Phoebe. Huh.
“Uh, Kels?”
“Morning, pseudo bro-in-law.”
“What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you with your fiancé?”
“Whiskey.”
“Ah. Got it.”
Duncan and whiskey are a guaranteed snorefest, and I know from rooming with him that sleep is not in the cards when he’s indulged. After a few minutes of loudly whispering about the night’s festivities, Phoebe begins to stir where she lies between us. Unaware of Kelsey’s appearance while we slept, her hand instantly reaches for my dick and because it has a mind of its own, I groan as it grows and she increases her grip.
“Babe?”
“Mmmhmmm . . .”
“Babe,” I say more sternly, causing Phoebe to open her eyes and glare at me. I’m never one to turn down any attention she gives me so she seems surprised. I nod behind her, and she glances over her shoulder but never removes her hand from my crotch.
Minx.
“On that note, I’m going to wake my fiancé and drag him downstairs for some breakfast. When should we plan on leaving?” Kelsey asks before looking down at where Phoebe’s hand is massaging me and rolls her eyes. “Nevermind, we’ll see you guys downstairs. After I go add some sexytimes to my morning agenda, thanks for that, Phoebs.”
“Welcome,” Phoebe purrs as she smiles and nestles into my embrace. Her tongue begins to make circles on my neck and the semi I was sporting has turned into a full-blown erection.
“Hold that thought, I’ve gotta take a piss,” I declare before hopping off the bed and making my way to the en-suite. Once I manage to pee, which is difficult with the wood I’m sporting, I swish some mouthwash and return to the bedroom. Phoebe is drinking from one of the bottles of water on the night stand and smiles as she walks past me to the bathroom. I hop in bed and wait for her to come back. It’s likely Phoebe will be ready for a little more shut eye before we head out.
The moment the door opens and Phoebe appears in nothing but her panties, I struggle to remember I don’t want to disrespect her parents and their home. The reality is I’m ready to fuck her six ways to Sunday. Oh wait, it is Sunday. I watch as she walks to the door and flips the lock.
A simple move and my dick is twitching in my boxers. Phoebe sashays her way to the end of the bed and slowly climbs on, making her way to me. She straddles me and my hands go to her hips.
“Why aren’t you naked?” she asks, her voice a little raspy in the early morning.
“Baby, we’re at your parents . . .” I don’t finish my sentence because she leans down, her naked breasts rubbing through my shirt while she takes my earlobe between her teeth. Phoebe begins to rotate her hips and the hard-on I’m trying to keep at bay is making a fool of me as it instantly makes a reappearance.
“It’s okay, we can be quick. Besides, it’s hot knowing we could be caught.”
I don’t need to hear more. Before she takes my earlobe between her teeth again, I sit up and pull my T-shirt over my head. Phoebe giggles and slides off my lap while pulling my boxer briefs off in one fluid movement then holding them up on one fingertip like she’s won a game of capture the flag. Her laugh fills the room as I flip her onto her back, but the moment I take a nipple between my teeth, the giggles quickly turn to moans. My hand instantly covers her mouth to muffle the sounds. I may be willing to risk getting caught, but I’m going to do everything I can to deter that from happening.
Normally, I love to feast on Phoebe. I usually take my time riling her up, slowly making my descent to her panties, licking through the silky fabric until she begins to mewl. But not today. No, the idea of her dad knocking on the door makes this more of a quickie than our normal leisurely Sunday morning romp. I don’t bother to remove her panties, I simply tug them to the side as I plunge into her. Arching her back, a look of ecstasy takes over Phoebe as she lifts her hips to meet me thrust for thrust. My hand moves from her mouth and lifts her leg so it’s slung over my arm, giving me deeper access to her. I know the minute her orgasm takes over.
It’s at the exact moment there’s a knock at the bedroom door. Our eyes meet and Phoebe mouths “don’t stop” as Duncan, who I now understand why Phoebe has nicknamed Fuckan, starts laughing and making grunting noises from the other side of the door.
Two more pumps and I come along with Phoebe who starts laughing. Talk about mood killer.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m laughing because that was maybe the hottest hangover sex we’ve ever had. Now I’m hungry. Feed me or lose me forever.”
“If you’re trying to quote Top Gun, you’ve failed,” I tease while placing a kiss on her lips before grabbing my boxers from the floor. I’ll be going commando on the way home instead of using one of the towels and leaving evidence behind.
“Nah. No eighties movie quotes from me. But seriously, feed me. I’m starving!”
I toss my boxers at Phoebe who cleans herself up.
God, I can’t wait to tell her about our possible new life in New York. Every morning can be like this but without the underlying tension of being caught.
I’m a shitty boyfriend. Or not-boyfriend, whatever my title is, I suck at it. I haven’t told Phoebe about New York. I also haven’t told her about the second email. Or the phone interviews. The headhunter I signed with is worth every premature gray hair I have. Interviews with three prestigious pharmaceutical companies in Manhattan, and I’m not sure the ink has dried on my degree.
I meant to tell Phoebe, but she took an impromptu trip with her mom to visit some cousin who had a baby, and now we’re headed to the airport for the month in California her parents gifted her and Duncan for their birthday. Sure, I had opportunities to share my news, but they never seemed like the right time. Plus, Phoebe is more herself since getting back from her trip, and I don’t want to rock the boat so to speak.
“Dude, can you believe this? Cali, man!”
I rub the spot on my arm Duncan punched before returning the gesture. Fucker. “Please don’t start talking like some cheesy surfer movie, Dunc. I don’t think Californians use the words “dude” or “Cali”.”
“Eh, whatever, man. It’s fucking California! Hot chicks, perfect waves, and no parentals!”
Kelsey reciprocates Duncan’s kisses and purrs loudly, letting us know she loves every minute of it. I catch Phoebe’s eye, and we laugh. I swear, Duncan and Phoebe couldn’t be more different. While I’m not opposed to a little PDA, Phoebe prefers to keep our PDA to hand holding and an occasional peck on the lips. Well, unless she’s drunk. Then she’s like a cat in heat, and it’s like she can’t get enough of me. Not that I’m complaining. Hell no. My girl is fucking hot, and I love nothing more than having her grind up on me like I’m her own personal stripper pole.
“I think we’re going to need some ground rules if we’re going to be living together,” I tell Duncan while kicking him in the leg. I’m not sure how our driver has managed to keep his eyes forward, but he has. Yeah, driver. Phoebe insisted we hire a car service to drive us to the airport to avoid having to rely on a friend or family member. Her parents upgraded that into a limo service. Not that I’m complaining. There’s more leg room but there’s also more room for this soft porn moment Duncan and Kelsey are having.
“What do you mean?” Duncan looks confused as he turns his head but never removing his lips from Kelsey’s. We both know what I mean.
“I know,” I begin, “that I’d like to avoid any kind of up close and personal view of your junk. So, maybe we need to agree all nakedness will be restricted to our bedrooms.” My suggestion stops Duncan and Kelsey from sucking face long enough to look at me. Confused.
“But,” Kelsey starts, biting her bottom lip, “what if we go skinny dipping?”
“Take a towel. I don’t know, Kels. I do know I’d rather not see you and this schmuck”—I gesture toward Duncan who mocks offense in response— “bumping uglies and I absolutely guarantee he doesn’t want to walk in on me and Phoebs.”