Page 32 of Insta [FAM]

MIKA

Once we’ve done what we can and have moved the remaining animals to an animal rescue in Elmsford, Dad and I make our way home with Dion in tow. Everyone has gathered at our house already, and from the messages I’ve gotten from Nyree, it sounds like Dion’s father has the grill under control, and the kids are swimming. We don’t plan on telling them what happened, but we arrive home in various states of disarray, and are peppered with questions.

“Honey.” Dion’s mother looks at her. “You’re a mess.”

A hot mess, I admit, but still a soot-covered mess. Dion ran around making sure everyone volunteering had water, and did eventually end up helping Dad, which is why her eyes are puffy, her cheeks streaked with ash and dirt and dried tears.

“I have some clothes that should fit you,” Nyree offers. “You can use the guest bathroom to get cleaned up.”

“I’ll take her,” I tell Nyree, aware of how upset Dion is, and how harrowing this experience must have been for her. Mum fusses over Dad, but he too walks upstairs to get himself cleaned up. Rather than direct Dion to my second guest bathroom, I have her follow me to mine, and gratefully accept the change of clothes my sister brings.

“Keep the kids busy until we’re done, yeah?”

She nods, her brows furrowed.” Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I sigh. “Tired and hungry. But we’ll be down in a bit.” I’m grateful when she doesn’t utter any kind of sexual innuendo and does what I ask. Closing my bedroom door, I start stripping out of my dirty clothes, but stop short when I see Dion standing in the middle of my bedroom, staring out the large bay windows.

“Hey.” She jumps when I touch her arm, and as soon as our eyes meet, she starts crying. Without saying much else, I pull her into my arms, and hold her.

“You have a shit job,” she mutters against my chest. “How do you not lose your fucking mind every time an animal croaks?”

As ill-timed as it is, I bark out a laugh. Not because of the context of our conversation, but because how Dion asked the question is just so Dion.

“We can’t save them all,” I tell her, feeling the tinge of sadness burrowing inside my chest. “But we try. Today was a freak accident, and those happen sometimes.”

“A train wreck is what it was,” Dion sniffles, and then tilts her head to look up. “But you were pretty fucking amazing, Mika. Would it be wrong to say watching you work today gave me a tingle in my jingle?” Her expression reminds me of Aroha’s face when she’s done something she knew she wasn’t supposed to but did it anyway because there’s no way I would have lost my shit. That’s the best way to describe how Dion’s looking at me.

I shake my head, unsure of how to respond. Having her close to me puts a tingle in my jingle, so I can’t really judge her. “C’mon.” I reach for her ruined shirt, and slide it over her head, and then reach for my jeans — also ruined — before helping her with hers. For once, she doesn’t try to take over, which makes removing her bra and panties far easier than I suspect it would be under our usual circumstances. She’d be the one undressing herself. Leading her into the bathroom, I walk past the giant tub, and straight into my walk-in shower. I turn the water on, make sure it's warm enough, and push Dion under the ceiling shower head before turning on the body sprays. It's enough coverage for both of us, and in the corner is a set of shelves with haircare and shower products. Dion washes her hair first, and I take the chance to look at the curvature of her body, and the way the water slides down her back, over her ass. I’m a man, she’s attractive, she’s naked, and after the morning-slash-afternoon we’ve had, sex should really be the farthest thing from my mind, but I argue that I’ve denied myself all week, and ignored her requests to make time for a quickie, which is why my dick hardens. Besides, sex is a great distraction, and Dion must agree because she turns around, and gives me a once-over, biting her lip when she sees I’m turned on. Before I initiate anything, or allow her to, we swap places, and I clean myself up. Dion’s patience lasts as long as it takes me to wash my hair, and a grumble escapes my mouth when she runs her hands up my back, and down again. “You’ve been angry with me,” she says. I turn, and it shouldn’t be a surprise when she places her hands on her hips. “You ignored me all week. Is it because you found out our girls are friends and no longer find me fuckable?” Lord save me, but I like her crass mouth, and the fact that she calls it like it is. Shaking my head, I reply, “No.”

“Then what? You bang me stupid for an entire evening, and then decide to ghost me. I don’t get it. Did you not like it?”

I reach for her, holding her by her upper arms, until the only space between us is what my hard-on creates. “Does that answer your question?”

“Well, no, because I know I’m hot, and if I can’t get you hard, the problem is obviously you, but you’ve literally ignored me since Saturday, and you barely greeted me at school on Monday. Then, I texted you three times, and nada.”

Sliding my hands over her shoulders, I wrap my hands around her neck, apply pressure and use my thumbs to tilt her head up. “Didn’t your InstaFam have any advice for you about that?”

My body hums with the desire to touch, and take, but I need to gauge where we are based on Dion’s response, if she’s feeling as unmoored by this arrangement as I am. I’m not saying I want more, not yet, but I no longer feel like it's enough. Her smile is brilliant, and it's accompanied by a fire in her gaze that’s mischief incarnate. “Ah, you saw my video. Made you mad, huh?”

“Hmm hmm.” I lower my head, brush my lips across hers. “Furious. Because I asked you to stop, Dion. And now everyone at school probably suspects we’re fucking around.”

“I couldn’t care less about those gossip-hungry school harpies, they’re the army of the undead because they’re clearly not getting laid and the fact that someone like me is, bothers them. Not to mention, you’re hot as fuck, total DILF material, and it’s my legs you play between, not theirs. Not even their husbands play between theirs.”

This woman.

“DILF, huh?” I’m familiar with the term Dad I’d Like to Fuck. I wasn’t born yesterday. And I know I’m not exactly unattractive — have you seen my parents?

Dion rests her hands on my hips, reaching around to squeeze my ass. “You wanna angry-fuck me, then? Because I won’t object. Just know that if every video I make, that might reference my friend-with-bennies, gets you mad, and makes you want to angry-fuck, I’m not exactly going to be inclined to stop.”

“I asked you to stop, and you didn’t, so it’s safe to assume you won’t listen if I ask a second time.”

Dion pretends to think about it, tilting her head, and replies, “Probably not. But let’s talk about this later, okay? If we stay here any longer, they’ll start to wonder where we are and all you’ve done is kiss me.”

“Then I’d better do more than kiss you.”

“You should definitely do more than kiss me. And make it fast, before they send a search party consisting of two nosy six-year-olds.”

Our conversation comes to an end when I slant my mouth over Dion’s, and lift her small body. With her legs around my waist, and her back against the shower wall, she’s at my mercy, and I show her none. We both want to forget what we saw and experienced today, and using our bodies is the most obvious way to do it. While we spar with our words, we all out go to war like this. And therein lies a familiarity that’s comforting. She pulls my hair, and I thrust harder, my grunts are feral, and to stop herself from screaming, Dion sinks her teeth into my shoulder. Her breasts bounce, and the feel of her nipples on my chest is almost a sensory overload. To chase her on, I manage to fit a hand between us, and find her clit. We come apart at the seams, and I make sure I’m all the way up in there when I come with a snarl.