“Why did he hate you so much, Dad? I need answers. Was I punished for something you did? Was this really between the two of you, and I was just used as a pawn in a game?”

“Cove,” he sighs. “Your mind’s still trying to find an answer to something that will never make sense.”

The elevator dings and we turn to see my mother step out holding a butcher knife. Sophia’s close behind, still braless, and in bare feet. I shake my head at the two of them and pull the gun out of my waistband, unable to stand it pressed against my ass a moment longer.

“What’s going on?” My mother demands an answer.

“He’s gone,” I reply. “Just another prick taking Paul and David’s place, looking for a little extra cash. I’ll tell you about him when we get upstairs.”

“Where’d he go? If he wanted the check then why did he leave?” Sophia asks.

“Oh, darling,” my mother reaches out to my father’s face. “Did you run into him too?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” my father winks at me, adding another lie to the pile. Eventually that mountain of lies is going to topple over and crush us all. “Let’s go upstairs so I can wash-up and check-in one last time with the hospital, before we go to bed.”

The four of us form a line along the back wall of the elevator and I rest my hand on Sophia’s back, guiding her closer to me. As we turn, a woman enters the building and calls out for us to hold the door. My mother keeps it open as she runs through the lobby.

“Mom,” I shake my head and whisper. “Are you nuts?”

I’ve seen this woman before. She’s attractive and dresses well, and if I had to guess, a lawyer or an executive of a company. And here we are, four crazy loons who look like they just stepped out of a horror movie, giving her the fright of her life.

“It’s okay, we won’t hurt you,” my mother says. She means well, but hasn’t a clue as she motions the woman inside, or she knows exactly what she’s doing and she’s acting quirky on purpose. My mother’s an oddity who I can’t always explain.

“Mother, close the door,” I whisper. She lowers her arm and Sophia waves as the door closes. “Jesus, you’re holding a butcher’s knife.”

“Well, you have a gun in your hand and your father’s covered in blood, I’m not the one who appears dangerous, now do I?”

“Yeah,” Sophia smiles.

“Soph, your chest is practically hanging out of that tank and your nipples are erect.”

“So, she has breasts, she knows what they look like.”

“Yup,” I sigh. “That’s exactly what was running through that woman’s head a second ago. I’m sure she thought, ‘it’s okay, I’ve got breasts too,’ and not, ‘oh shit, it’s that fucked up Everton family from the top floor.’”

My mother and Sophia laugh and I can’t help but smile as my father shakes his head, trying to hide a grin.

“We’re so white trash,” Sophia says.

“Speak for yourself,” the rest of us say in unison, and we laugh again.

“That woman is one of the most gorgeous and high-class black women in our building, and she’s probably calling all of her friends right now, telling them what a bunch of dumbass white people live up in the penthouse suites.”

We reach the top floor and I walk with Sophia to our place. “I’ll be right in,” I whisper. She nods before disappearing inside; it’s an unspoken understanding that I have unfinished business with my father.

“Dad, can I talk to you for a second?” I grab his arm before he gets too far away. “Please,” I request. My mother walks ahead, closes their door, and we’re given a moment alone.

I want to tell him how sorry I am for my accusations, and how disgusted I feel for treating him so poorly over the past week, but an apology seems inadequate; too little, too late. My outpourings of emotion, along with the way I’ve been acting have been a constant roller coaster ride; for myself and for the people I love.

And here we stand, face-to-face, eye-to-eye, and I stretch my arm out to his, finally, hand-in-hand. He bows his head and runs his fingers over mine, showing his love without having to speak. There’s my answer, the act of love. I could say I’m sorry or tell him that I love him, but those words carry no great weight unless I actually show him how I feel.

I’m devastated that he stepped away from me in the lobby, but after getting a fist in the face I can’t blame him. Our bodies and minds are worn out, our passion for life robbed, and some of that’s our own fault. This distance between us ends here.

I grip his hand firmly and pull him into my arms. No words... just a long, warm, tear-filled embrace. Any day could be our last, and we can’t leave this world with such anger for the other. His hand rests on the back of my head as I lean on his shoulder. I love my father with all my heart, and for the first time since I was a child, I feel protected.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My father and I nearly fell asleep in one another’s arms and then I crashed on our sofa with the gun by my side. I never made it to our bedroom. That was the longest fucking day of my life, and now, here I am roused by the smell of coffee brewing, and my wife sucking on my morning wood. God, she’s good to me.

“Will you swallow it?” I ask in a soft voice while moving her hair to the side so I can see her face.

“Mmm,” she nods with her wet mouth cased over my dick. That tongue of hers is... oh fuck... here we go.

“I’m proud to say my wife has an impressive array of skills. You never suck me off the same way twice.”

Our eyes meet and she slowly, gently, pulls my skin with her constricted lips until I’m released with a big smacking sound. “Cosmo, Babe. Love that magazine,” she replies while stroking it.

I put my hand behind my head and let her have control. I’m sure she knows by the grin on my face how relaxed I am. Pure pleasure. I close my eyes and place my head on one of our throw pillows while she lowers that sweet wet mouth of hers back to my tip.

“That’s absolute torture, and you know it.”

She laughs as my hips jerk in an attempt to conquer an entrance, any orifice, I don’t fucking care, I just want inside. Her tongue hovers, torments my cock with short licks, and twists itself on my shaft.

“Come on, beautiful. Suck it. Let me in.”

“Are you begging?”

“Are you gonna make me beg?”

She will, I just know it. It turns her on when I beg and I’m so pussy-whipped that I don’t give a shit. “Please,” I moan.

She expels a playful laugh and grabs my shaft in the palm of her hand. I smile, expecting a hard jerk, only to be deceived with a gentle caress and then a surprising slap across my balls.

“Ah fuck,” I call out.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” I laugh. “Is that from the magazine as well? Do those Cosmo writers tell women to smack their men in the nuts? Jesus.”

“Some men like it.”

“Well, it’s a weird mix between pleasure and pain, but I don’t think I could cum with you beating my nut sac.”

“No problem, how about this?” She winds her tongue around my dick until it’s flooded and dripping with saliva, then licks my balls as her hand slides over my shaft. I fantasize about her, and no one else... my fingers rest on her legs, slowly parting them, running my dick over her shaved pussy, and then dividing those slick lips as I push inside. Victory.

“You’re about to open up for me,” she whispers while running her tongue along one of my engorged veins.

Shit, I hope she swallows, just thinking about cumming in her mouth brings me closer to shooting my load... and her mouth, man, look at her. She can barely fit me inside... ahh, her tits... her tongue. “Soph, I’m gonna cum. I’m cumming.”

I hold her head on my dick and fire off a deep shot. She gags and I release immediately, but she doesn’t move, taking the next one, and the next. My heart pounds in sync with my dick, while my lungs heave for air.