Dad's Best Friend - Part Two (July, 1985)
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Part One
Pairing: older!Frank Castle x f!Reader
Summary: A heatwave strikes their small town, and with a little pressure from prying neighbors, her father decides to throw a barbecue. What she doesn't know is that her father's guest list includes a certain ex-boyfriend of hers, sending Frank into a jealous frenzy.
a/n: This one takes place about 6 months after chapter 1 :) I do plan on going back to explore their first meeting and hook-up at some point. I think we'll see Frank take her on a little weekend getaway in chapter 3! Thank you for reading!!! <3
Tags: this one has more exposition but still lots of smut lol, p in v sex, younger reader x older frank, porn with feelings, rough-ish sex, jealous frank, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), frank talks fmc through it, alternate universe, non-canon
The mid-July heat was no joke, even in their tiny town up north. A record-breaking heat wave was sending scores of townsfolk indoors or to the public pools in search of relief. Subsequently, her father had been roped into planning a barbeque by an innocent-looking Mrs. Cross, who’d been eyeing their unused pool for months and had brought cookies to wear her father down. She, of course, was voluntold to prepare the sides and finger foods. Neither her nor her father were happy with the arrangement, but Mrs. Cross could be very persuasive, and her dad was a sucker for freshly baked cookies.
That is how she found herself in the midst of a packed aisle at the grocery store, looking up and down for hamburger buns. It perplexed her that they’d be out of them already, especially considering that Mrs. Cross had invited seemingly every single person in town to their barbecue.
“Excuse me,” she spoke, pulling the attention of a clerk away from the cans he was restocking, “I can’t seem to find the hamburger buns.”
She remembered him from high school, though she couldn’t remember his name. Ben? Eric? Something like that. Ben-Eric lazily glanced at the empty shelf, shrugging.
“If they’re not on this shelf, we’re out of them.”
“You can’t possibly be out of hamburger buns in July,” she stammered, exasperated.
“Clearly,” he said, rolling his eyes, “we are.”
He turned back to his task, placing more cans on the shelf at a snail's pace. She glared at his back. This is exactly why she couldn’t fathom being with someone her own age. Frank would never be so infuriatingly careless about his job.
“Fine. Thanks.” She turned the cart around, heading down the aisle away from Ben-Eric.
When she finally finished purchasing everything on Mrs. Cross’ list, minus hamburger buns, she loaded everything into the back of her father’s car. The time on her watch said she had plenty of time to make a pit-stop on the way home before her father began to worry, which she fully intended to do. It’d been too long without seeing Frank, and she didn’t think she’d get to see him very much until after the barbecue. They’d have to be extra discreet tonight.
When she pulled up to Frank’s workshop, his car was the only one in the lot. She smiled. Good. She much preferred to speak with him when he wasn’t surrounded by older women.
“Frank?” She called out, knocking as she entered. She could already feel sweat beading at her temple. It was sweltering, even inside his air-conditioned workshop. She should’ve left the car running to save herself from heat stroke later. Thankfully, she’d worn a skirt – Frank's favorite.
Clanging echoed, followed by a grunt. She followed the noise, stepping carefully around the various bits of wood and buckets of paint that had been sporadically placed in different corners of the room.
“Frank, it’s me.” She called again.
“Yeah, what can I do for you?”
He appeared almost out of thin air, rounding the corner with a pencil tucked behind his ear and a frustrated pout on his face. This is how he approached most of his clients, though his eyes softened when he realized she was alone. They were so good at playing this game together.
“Sorry, I thought your dad might be with you,” he said, tugging her against his sweaty t-shirt. “To what do I owe a beautiful woman visiting me on the hottest day of the year?”
She giggled, swatting at his chest, “You always have beautiful women visiting you.”
“They don’t matter to me,” he said, shrugging and pulling her in for a kiss. She couldn’t resist the urge to swipe her tongue against his. He squeezed her against him, crouching slightly so that he could lift her into the air. It was second nature for her to wrap her legs around his waist. This was a dance they were all too familiar with.
He tasted of salt and coffee, a mix that she was growing more and more addicted to. She couldn’t get enough of it, of him. She moaned into his mouth when she grinded against his length, hard and begging to be freed from the confines of his tight jeans. He turned, setting her down on top of a tool bench. The cool metal burned against her heated skin, melting all sense of time or urgency away. Frank groaned as she pulled his waist closer to hers with her legs, yearning for more, more, more of him.
Suddenly, a vision of Mrs. Cross tutting in her direction entered her brain. The ice cream, the lack of hamburger buns. The afternoon she’d have to spend readying herself for the entire town to have eyes on her and her father. It felt wrong, but she pried her mouth away from his, gasping.
“I have ice cream in the trunk,” she groaned, almost whining at the ridiculous list that Mrs. Cross had given her. “And I need hamburger buns or Mrs. Cross is going to kill me.”
“Okay,” Frank blinked through his lustful haze, nodding slowly, “I have some at my house.”
“You have some at your house,” she repeated, mirroring his head movement.
“Y’wanna stop by and get them before the party?”
“Yes,” she breathed, watching his pupils dilate as his hands crawled up her exposed thighs. “I really do have ice cream in the trunk.”
Frank chuckled, inching his hands higher. He was overwhelmingly big, taking up so much space in her vision that she could hardly see over his shoulder. She gulped, blinking up at him with the doe eyes that he adored.
“I can be quick,” he said. He was so close to her now that she could feel the ghost of his words on her lips.
Goosebumps skittered down her spine in the wake of his heated words. She seriously considered telling Mrs. Cross to go to hell and take her melted ice cream with her, but hesitated. As much as this barbecue was annoying her father, it felt nice that he’d be surrounded by so many people again. It’d been a long time since their house was filled with more than just her, her father, and occasionally, Frank. A few hours of socializing would be good for him.
A thud from the parking lot forced them apart from one another, Frank regretfully putting distance between them. Someone was here, and they were going to be caught if they didn’t pull themselves together, and fast. Frank quickly returned to her, lifting her off the tool bench and setting her down on wobbly legs before busying his hands with a pencil and a piece of plywood. She smoothed her skirt, awkwardly wringing her hands as the stranger made their way through the workshop.
“Back door’s always unlocked for you, sweetheart,” Frank said, pressing a quick peck to her temple. His voice was gravely, a sign that she’d successfully wound him. “Get whatever you need from my place. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Okay,” she nodded, heart still pounding from both the intimacy with Frank and them almost getting caught together, “Thank you, Frankie.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said, refocusing on the piece of wood in front of him. She glimpsed a blur of blonde-ish gray hair as she hurried toward the nearest exit.
“Mr. Castle?” A woman’s voice called out as she circled the same corner Frank had appeared from earlier. “I thought there might be someone else here! Anyway, I was wondering if you had any time to work on the floors in my living room this weekend.”
She didn’t stick around to hear the rest of their conversation, cursing herself for not leaving the car running when she climbed into the boiling hot driver’s seat. The ice cream was certainly a puddle at this point. She’d never related to ice cream so much.
x
Frank’s house was around the corner from the one she shared with her father. It didn’t matter how many times she stayed the night with him – being the only person in the house made her nervous. She often felt like she was taking up space that she didn’t deserve, especially here, amongst Frank’s belongings. She wondered if that was something every young woman went through, or if it was just her. She didn't have a mother to ask, which made the ache of not knowing even worse.
As she made her way to the pantry, a picture hanging on the fridge caught her eye. It was a much younger Frank, sidled up to a woman who had a hand pressed to his chest. His late wife, presumably. Two young kids sat on either side of them. They both looked so much like Frank that she couldn’t stop her eyes from watering. Frank never talked about his family, and she didn’t ask, though her father had mentioned it to her a few times in passing. They had died, and Frank was “different” now, though she didn’t understand what that meant.
The picture broke her heart. Who was Frank before he moved here and met her? She didn’t know, but she wanted to. She wanted to pry into his life, opening old wounds so that she could understand how he ended up here, alone except for the fleeting moments he had with her. She wondered if Frank would ever want a family with her, or if the pain of it all was too much. She wondered if she’d be a good mom, or if she’d die young and leave her kids without guidance as they navigated adulthood just like her mom did to her.
She snapped out of the harrowing thoughts, swallowing thickly and backing away from the refrigerator. Hurrying back to the car, she gulped down air as she backed out of the driveway and made her way home. Mrs. Cross’ hamburger buns would have to be a later problem.
x
When she finally walked through the kitchen door, her father was amidst a heated conversation on the telephone, hand resting on his hip in a way that told her he was annoyed. She set the bags on the counter, smiling at his exasperated face. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth, rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other line.
“It’s Cindy,” he mouthed to her, covering the bottom of the phone with his hand. “Help!”
She hurried over, putting the phone to her ear. Mrs. Cross – Cindy – was rambling about seven-layer dip.
“Mrs. Cross, it’s me. Sorry to interrupt,” she said, cutting the older woman off, “I wasn’t able to get hamburger buns. Safeway was out. Do you know anyone that could bring some?”
Her dad put his hands together in a prayer-like manner, thanking her. She stifled a giggle as Mrs. Cross began rambling again. Her dad took a long pull of his cigarette, shaking his head in vexation. When she finally managed to get off the phone, her father was lighting another, staring through a window at the backyard.
“She was only on layer three of seven when you walked in,” he pointed out, shaking his head again, “I can’t imagine how long she would’ve kept me if you hadn’t shown up when you did, honey.”
“Well, I got layers four and five just now. I guess we’ll hear about six and seven this afternoon.”
He laughed, looking over the piles of groceries on the counter.
“Cindy is doing way too much with this barbecue,” he grumbled, waving his cigarette through the air. “Did you know she hired gardeners to come by this morning? Gardeners! What’s wrong with our garden?”
“She’s being nice.” She sent him a pointed look before nudging him toward the groceries. “Now, help me put everything away so that I can start on the first layer before she gets here.”
Later, when the barbecue had finally begun and it felt like every person she’d ever met was crowding her house and backyard, she wilted against the wall in the kitchen. She’d never made so many finger foods in her life. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, but she couldn’t remember the last time she sat down. Leave it to Mrs. Cross to suggest a relaxing barbecue and then force her to cater for it.
Frank, newly showered and bare-chested, arrived a few minutes later. Six bags of hamburger buns swung from his fists as she took in the sight in front of her. She’d nearly kissed him right in front of everyone but settled on thanking him quietly and asking him to put them in the kitchen.
“Where did you get them?” She asked, shutting the door to the kitchen softly, cheeks flush at the sight of Frank’s bare torso.
It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen him shirtless. The tiny gasp that always left her lips was involuntary. They were alone for a fleeting moment, and all she could think about was jumping his bones.
“Safeway had a ton,” he said, eyeing her outfit.
It was blistering hot, even in the late afternoon, so she’d donned a pair of white shorts and a string bikini top. She didn’t intend on swimming, but she knew it would drive Frank crazy to see her in such little clothing.
“Safeway said they were out when I stopped by! Right before I came to see you!” She moaned, running her hand over her face. “Ben-Eric is such a liar!”
“Who?” Frank tilted his head, confusion overtaking his tone.
Before she could recount her story about infuriating store clerks, her dad jostled into the room, followed by the last person she expected to see standing in her kitchen – her ex-boyfriend, Matthew.
Time halted for a few moments as she tried to understand the picture in front of her. Her father, who was smiling as he glanced proudly between her and Matt, stood with his hands on his hips. Matt had an arrogant smile on his face, though he was twiddling with his cane enough to tell her he was actually very nervous. Frank, left in the dark about the newest stranger in the room, glanced between her horrified face and Matt’s, trying to gauge why the temperature in the room had just risen a few degrees.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Matt said, tipping his head in her direction.
“Sweetheart?” Frank echoed, the surprise in his voice bouncing off the ceiling and quieting the dull roar in her ears as she continued to stare at Matt’s stupidly handsome face.
The three men watched her, waiting for an explanation, a response, anything. She gaped back at them, wondering what in the fresh hell Matt was playing at, showing up to her dad’s barbecue and calling her sweetheart. The nerve he had was astonishing. Anger muddled her thoughts. How dare he show up in her house?
She didn’t say any of this, of course. In fact, the only words that came out of her mouth were, “You’re wearing flip-flops.”
“It’s a pool party, right?” Matt tilted his head, smiling. His hands continued to fiddle with his cane.
“You’re in my kitchen, wearing flip-flops.” She muttered robotically, fixing her eyes on the wall behind Matt’s head.
“I hope it’s okay that I invited him,” her dad said, sending her a look that told her she was acting insane. “He mentioned that he’d be in town, and I thought why not, ya know?”
He finished his statement off with a swift pat on Matt’s back, sending her another pointed glance. She finally blinked, back in her own body and furious. She inhaled, ready to kick and scream at her father, but Frank cut her off before she could say a word.
“We haven’t met. I’m Frank, the neighbor,” he said gruffly.
“Matthew,” Matt said, head still tilted in her direction, “the ex-boyfriend.”
“The ex-boyfriend,” Frank repeated, eyeing Matt closely.
She knew exactly what Frank was thinking. Matt was another older man that she’d given herself to. Granted, Matt was only about a decade older than she was. It wasn’t as big of an age gap as her and Frank. Still, she could see the cogs whirring in his head as he fully grasped the situation happening in front of him.
His nostrils flared once, the only sign that Matt’s presence was affecting him, before he nodded and looked at her father, asking if he needed help with grilling. She watched as he made his way across the kitchen, volunteering to take over for her father outside. He sent her a single, pointed glance before softly closing the door behind him, leaving her and Matthew alone for the first time in months.
“He seems nice,” Matt said, noticeably calmer now that the kitchen had been vacated by Frank. “A little old for you, don’t you think?”
“Don’t even, Matthew. What are you doing here? You can’t just show up at my house after disappearing last year.”
Matt scoffed, leaning against the edge of the counter, inching closer to her heaving chest.
“I was invited. I thought you wanted me here.”
Her eyebrows shot up. He must be an idiot. He must think she’s an idiot.
“You thought I’d want you here after you disappeared last year? No calls, no texts, just a scribbled note with the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on it?”
“I told you I had a big opportunity, sweetheart-”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Don’t act like you’re innocent in this either, sweetheart.” He bared his teeth, emphasizing the pet name. “You wanted out just as much as I did.”
She huffed, narrowing her eyes at Matt’s towering figure.
“Don’t put this on me. You knew what you were doing when you took that job in New York. Our relationship was done as soon as you signed that offer letter.”
“You gave up before I did.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. She couldn’t figure out if he was perturbed or not by this conversation, which made her even more angry. “I’m going to go converse with Frank, the neighbor. Unless,” he paused, running a thumb across her bare torso, “you don’t want me to, for whatever reason?”
His touch, which had at one time, set her on fire the way Frank’s does now, barely phased her. She was done with Matt the minute he walked out on her. It’s how she ended up moving back home to live with her father, and how she ended up meeting Frank. It was a good thing, ultimately.
“Do whatever you want, Matt. I’m not your keeper anymore.”
She gritted her teeth, stepping away from Matt’s touch and heading toward the back yard where the party seemed to be picking up.
“You never were,” Matt called after her.
She rolled her eyes, stepping into the sun for the first time in hours. People milled about, separating themselves into groups and eyeing each other as they whispered about the latest gossip. Small towns were notorious for this, but she tried not to let it phase her. As long as her and Frank kept their relationship secret, she could avoid the gossip mill.
She watched a group of older women take turns glancing towards Frank and her father, who were so busy debating the proper way to grill a hamburger that they probably wouldn’t notice if the women stripped down and went skinny dipping right next to them. She stifled a laugh, relaxing into a chair somewhat isolated from the party, but still amongst the revelry.
She’d chosen this seat specifically. It had a perfect view of Frank’s bare torso as he stood by the grill, sipping a beer. She suddenly felt a sort of kinship with the group of ogling women. Frank was droolworthy. And she got to remind him of that every single night.
A figure entered her periphery, forcing her attention away from Frank’s toned abs. She nearly rolled her eyes and groaned, readying herself to stomp of Matt’s foot, when she realized it was Ben-Eric from the Safeway down the road.
“Ben-Eric!” She startled, cringing at her inability to filter her thoughts.
“Who?” He said, sitting down in the closest seat to her.
“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, “I couldn’t remember your name, and that’s what I called you earlier when you lied to me about the hamburger buns.”
He laughed along with her, sipping his beer.
“To be fair, I didn’t know we had more in a different aisle. They sell out so quickly in July.”
“Sure, Ben-Eric,” she said sarcastically, laughing again at his perplexed expression.
“You’re half right. It is Benjamin, but I guess you can call me Ben-Eric if that’s what you want,” he said, tilting his head in a way that reminded her how handsome he was. “Most of my friends call me Dex.”
“Okay, Dex,” she said, grinning again. “Tell me. How much do you know about seven-layer dip?”
They spent the afternoon people-watching and catching up, though the longer she sat there, the more she wanted to see Frank. It felt like she always wanted to see Frank these days. He’d disappeared earlier after the grill had been cleaned, and she hadn’t seen him since. When the party finally wound down, she realized, thankfully, that Matt was long gone. Ben-Eric left, thanking her dad personally for the party, and then it was just the two of them, standing amongst empty beer cans and deflated balloons.
“That was exhausting,” her father said, immediately exiting the kitchen in favor of falling asleep to his crossword. She huffed and began clearing the mess. So much for ‘we’re in this together’.
Not long after she’d begun, a sudden throat being cleared startled her. She turned, seeing Frank for the first time in hours.
“Frank!” She put a hand to her chest, heart pounding. “I thought you went home!”
“I did, but I came back because I knew he wouldn’t help you clean up.” He shrugged.
There was something off about his demeanor. She immediately noticed the way he hesitated to enter the room fully, instead choosing to lean against the doorway. Was it because her dad was snoring in the other room, or for a different reason?
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, shaking her head.
He shrugged again, refusing to meet her gaze.
“Frank,” she murmured, “What’s wrong?”
He finally looked up, staring at her with a hard, unreadable expression that left her even more confused.
“You didn’t tell me about Matthew,” he finally said, immediately cringing. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying. I sound like a whiny bitch when I say it like that.”
Her hands, which held a near-empty trash bag, hung limp in front of her. She didn’t realize how much he’d been affected by Matt’s sudden appearance. She’d forgotten about it already.
“Matthew doesn’t mean anything to me.” She said simply, shrugging.
“Anymore,” he rasped, looking anywhere but in her direction before finally lowering his head, ashamed. “And that fucking asshole outside. I wanted to fucking strangle him when he made you laugh.”
She dropped the trash bag, approaching him slowly. He watched her carefully, refusing to let himself touch her. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“Are you jealous, Frankie?” She said, genuinely amused. “Is that why you left?”
Frank’s nostrils flared. A spark of anger lit his eyes, amusing her even more.
“You drive me crazy, sweetheart,” he grunted, still refusing to put his hands on her. “Everything about you drives me insane.”
She pushed her chest against him, looking up at his scowling face.
“I don’t care about any of them, Frank,” she said, running her hands up his broad torso. “I only care about you. I thought you knew that.”
He grunted again, this time, angling his head so that their lips were millimeters apart.
“I do know that,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Something about you makes me forget how fucking ridiculous being a jealous asshole is.”
She was thrilled to hear this. She’d been waiting for him to mark his territory from the moment Matt walked in the kitchen earlier. Her father being three feet away hadn’t crossed her mind for a moment, though she was sure Frank would’ve knocked Matt on his ass for touching her if her father was anywhere else in the house.
“Show me,” she murmured, placing her palms on Frank’s cheeks. “Show me how jealous it makes you.”
His expression hardened, jaw ticking. He remained incredibly still as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips grazed his ever so slightly as she lifted her mouth, begging for him to touch her.
“You’re mine,” he grumbled, and finally, finally, he touched her.
His hands tightened around her waist as his lips crashed against hers, pulling her into a salacious kiss worthy of the front-page news. His tongue collided with hers, forcing its way deep into her mouth. She sighed into him, relishing the warmth of his body against hers.
This felt more right than anything she’d ever felt in her life. Frank, standing in her kitchen, reminding her who she was to him. It may have started as a casual hook-up, but now they were in so deep with one another that it felt like drowning while simultaneously breathing air for the first time.
“I’m yours, too,” he murmured inbetween kisses, cradling her head between his palms. “Always.”
“Always,” she repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, unable to remember or care that her father was down the hall and could walk in at any moment.
She wasn’t even sure he was asleep, but nothing about this night had felt right until now, and she wasn’t going to ruin it just yet. She grasped Frank’s waistline, tugging at his pants. She wanted to be thoroughly wrecked by him, right here, right now.
Frank, on the other hand, was a much more responsible person than she could ever be. He groaned as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before disconnecting entirely.
“Frank,” she started, blindly reaching for him. “I need you.”
“Not here,” he murmured, “Not when he’s down the hall.”
Conflict warred with desire in his eyes. Even after all this time, Frank couldn’t bring himself to hurt his best friend more than he already had. Every day that they continued their affair, he was damaging his relationship with her father, but he couldn’t stay away from her. She was everything to him, and after losing everything once, he couldn’t help but hold on tightly.
“Can I come over after I finish up here?” She asked, cheeks still flush with need.
“Always, baby,” he said, bending down to pick up another piece of trash left by partygoers. He pushed it into the forgotten half-empty trash bag. “You don’t have to ask.”
She nodded, focusing on the mess around her again. Frank didn’t leave like she thought he would. He stayed and continued to help her clean, which made it even harder for her to stay focused. Finally, when the mess had been contained to a reasonable level, she and Frank walked slowly back to his house. She decided now was a good time as any to bring up the picture on his fridge.
“Frank, can I ask you something?” She said, casually swinging their intertwined hands.
“Anything.”
“What was your wife’s name?”
She said it barely above a whisper, but Frank heard it loud and clear. His head snapped to hers, confusion and caution clear on his face. His eyes softened at her expression, weary, but curious.
“I mean-,” she said, immediately hating herself for asking, “You don’t have to tell me. I saw them – your family – on your fridge earlier when I stopped by and I’m curious about them, but you don’t have to tell me anything. I just mean-.”
“Maria,” he said, interrupting the anxious rant she had begun without realizing it. “Maria was her name. And Lisa and Frank Jr. are my kids.”
She eyed him nervously, waiting for anger or admonishment for prying into his personal life, but there was none. Frank squeezed her hand, pulling it up to his lips for a soft kiss.
“Car accident. Almost twenty years ago now.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I miss ‘em every day.”
“Oh, Frank,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her against his side as they continued the short walk. “I should’ve told you about it sooner.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek before continuing to the home where they had shared so many intimate moments together.
Standing inside Frank’s house reminded her that it had only been a handful of hours since she’d been here last. The day had melted into a blur of cooking, partying, and Frank, all packed into a 24-hour period. If she was honest with herself, she was exhausted, but she finally had Frank to herself, and she wasn’t going to squander that opportunity.
As soon as he locked the door, she was on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping into his arms. Her legs wound their way around his body as he lifted her in the air, pulling her fully against his torso. The feeling of his muscles alone was enough to make her moan. He was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, and he was all hers.
“You knew exactly what you were doing when you showed up without a shirt today,” she said between kisses, hoping Frank could navigate the stairs while she was wrapped around him like a koala.
“You’re one to talk, sweetheart” he grumbled, taking each step carefully until they made it to the top of the staircase. “Look at this bikini.”
His bed, which he now considered to be their bed, was still unmade from their intimacy that morning. When he lowered himself, setting her down on her back, she nuzzled into the blankets. They smelled like him.
“I love this bikini,” he said, eyeing the curve of her breasts beneath the fabric. She’d worn it just for him.
His hand slowly pushed down into the mattress, feeling its way underneath her until it found the strings tied in a knot against her spine. A swift tug had the strings falling apart, giving way to him. He lowered his head – first to her cheek, nuzzling against her smooth skin, then to her neck, where he peppered kisses all the way down to the top of her shoulder, where he found the other knot holding her bikini together. She quivered with need as his teeth scraped against her racing pulse. He slowly nipped at the material, pulling the end of the knot with his teeth until it too gave way, exposing her breasts in the dim light of his bedroom.
He huffed in disbelief as he looked over her exposed chest, jaw ticking.
“He didn’t stand a chance,” he mumbled, eyes crawling up her body until it landed on her flushed cheeks. “Not a fucking chance.”
“Who didn’t?” She asked, innocently batting her eyes.
“You know who,” he grunted, jealousy laced in his tone for the second time tonight. “Do you know how badly I wanted to knock Matthew on his ass today for calling you sweetheart? For touching you after I left the kitchen?”
“I didn’t know you saw that,” she breathed, heat pulsing in her core. Frank rarely got this way with her, but when he did, she was so turned on by it that it hurt.
“I fucking saw everything,” he grumbled with a hardened expression, “He doesn’t get to touch what’s mine. Ever.”
“I know, Frankie,” she murmured, running her fingers along the sculpt of his shoulders.
“Your dad told me he’s a catholic lawyer,” he gritted, “and that the only reason you came home last year was because he broke your heart.”
“That’s true,” she swallowed.
Frank lowered his body even more, barely hovering over her. Her hips met his, grinding up against his hardened length through their clothes. Frank leaned forward, lips ghosting over her ear.
“His loss,” he murmured.
The wake of his breath sent goosebumps skittering down her spine. She moaned, grinding against him again. Frank’s eyes were so dark that she could barely make out the brown irises that she adored.
“What about the other one?” She asked, unable to stop taunting him. “The one that sat by me outside and made me laugh.”
His gaze, which had been slowly raking down her exposed chest, snapped up to meet hers again. His nostrils flared as he processed her question. She blinked hazily at him, waiting for his restraint to meet its limit. His jaw ticked before he finally let out a long, slow breath.
“Watch it,” he warned in a low voice, though she could see the delight hidden in his eyes.
“Or what?” She taunted again.
And finally, after what felt like years and years of waiting, Frank’s restraint finally snapped. He slammed his mouth against hers, immediately swiping his tongue through her mouth. He was relentless with his kisses, giving her barely enough time to breathe between nipping at her jaw and grinding against her.
She barely realized when her pants were off, only shuddering when his fingers teased her soaked entrance. She let out a soft moan, widening her legs. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was distraught with love for the man she shared this secret with.
“I want on top,” she said, swiftly nudging him on his back as she hovered atop his impressive length.
At some point in time, Frank had also lost his pants, though she couldn’t pinpoint when that happened. Everything about Frank was overwhelming to her senses. She could get lost in him. She wanted to get lost in him. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her, how much the other men in her life didn’t affect the feelings she held for him.
Frank squeezed her hips tightly, eyes still dark with desire. When she finally sank onto him, she held her breath, tears pricking at the back of her eyes in both pain and pleasure. Frank, ever the gentleman, would always slowly ease into her, allowing her time to adjust, but she didn’t want that. Tonight, she wanted to remind him how much of her belonged to him.
She moved her hips slightly, moaning at how deep he was in this position. He had barely moved, breathing slowly with his eyes half lidded. She placed her hands on his chest and began rocking against him, eliciting a groan from his perfect, plump lips. His moans of pleasure spurred her to rock against him harder and faster. Her hips were held in a bruising hold by his large hands, guiding her against him.
“Ask me to do anything, and I’ll do it,” he grunted, bucking into her and breathing hard as she continued grinding. “Name anything and I’ll get it for you. Anything, baby.”
She giggled, delighted at his ability to make her feel like the only woman in the world. He took advantage of her distraction, flipping them over so that he could rut into her even harder. Frank rose to his full height, pulling her to the edge of the bed and lifting her hips to meet his in an even deeper position than before.
She felt like she was on ecstasy, pleasure overriding every part of her body. Frank slammed into her at a relentless rate, grunting every time she squeezed around his thick length.
“You fit so fucking perfectly underneath me, baby.”
Slapping sounds echoed through the room, mixed with praise from Frank’s filthy mouth.
“Did he ever make you feel this good, baby?”
She arched her back, moaning.
“Did he worship you the way you deserve?”
Fire wreaked havoc on her entire body. She was on the brink of exploding.
“He could beg for forgiveness for the rest of his life and never deserve you, sweetheart. Fuckin’ altar boy.”
“Fuck,” she whined, nearly squealing as heat overcame every sense, every thought, every breath. Her orgasm crashed through her, pulsing every nerve in her body. She couldn’t remember where she ended, and Frank began. Every part of her was Frank’s, and every part of Frank was hers.
“That’s it, baby,” Frank cooed, slowing his hips so that he could properly watch her come undone beneath him. “There you go, pretty girl. You’re doing so good.”
Heart racing, she arched further off the bed, begging for more. Frank met her chest with wet lips, kissing up the valley between her breasts. She mewled when his lips wrapped around her nipple, flicking his tongue over the nub. Tears of pleasure flowed freely down her cheeks, driving Frank into a state of wild delirium.
He pounded into her, drawing out another orgasm, and another. He left trails of wet kisses along every part of her body, marking his territory with sweet nips at her sensitive areas.
“Mine,” he murmured after each kiss, reminding himself that she was here, splayed beneath him because she would choose him in every lifetime.
“Yours,” she breathed, trembling.
When Frank finished, after she found her pleasure one more time, she laid in a heavy heap, barely grunting when he cleaned her off with a warm towel. The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to her. Frank lifted the blankets over her wilted figure, kissing her temple before crawling into bed next to her.
She was barely conscious enough to feel Frank’s arm wrap around her waist and tuck her against his chest, but she breathed easier knowing he was holding her.
“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Always.”
Sweet, unconscious bliss followed her into the deepest sleep she’d ever been in, though she’d swear later on that she heard Frank tell her he loved her. Somehow, even in sleep, her body knew what she meant to him. She loved him too, more than anything. It would be a few more months before she admitted that to anyone besides him, though.
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