Something Honorable (Dirty Southern Secrets Book 2) Page 2

  “I don’t hear any music,” I smirk, taking a drag from my cigarette and blowing smoke in his face.

  “License and registration,” he says, sternly. Clearly not amused with me. I didn’t figure he would be, especially since this is the third time he’s pulled me over the past two months.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask him. “Other than have my music a little too loud?”

  “Busted taillight,” he answers, pointing back to my driver’s side taillight.

  “It’s not busted.”

  He cocks his eyebrow at me. “If I say it’s busted, boy, it’s busted. License and registration, now.”

  I get my wallet out and give him what he asked for, figuring he’s just jerking me around. Maybe he gets off on exerting his power over me or some shit. Probably gives him a damn hard on. He tears a piece of paper off his pad and hands it to me.

  “You’re giving me a ticket?” I question him, snatching it from his hand. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  “Get that taillight fixed,” he instructs and walks away. “And good luck joining the choir. Didn’t know you could sing.”

  I look out my window at him, pissed that he gave me a bogus ticket and curious as to why he made the whole choir comment. Then I watch him as he takes his baton and smashes my taillight. He flashes me a ‘fuck you’ grin and gets in his car.

  The other times I’ve been pulled over were obviously just friendly warnings. This one wasn’t so friendly. Parts for this Charger are hard to come by, and now I’ll have to special order a new taillight thanks to that asshole.

  I know Pastor Jacobs is a dickhead, but I had no idea he would sink to such lows to keep me from his daughter. It only makes me want her more, and he obviously doesn’t know me all that well. I don’t give up that easily.

  I finish off my cigarette as I drive to my parents, busted taillight and all, and hop out, not bothering to even look at it. I can smell my mama’s fried chicken from the porch. I don’t bother knocking, just go on inside.

  “It’s about time,” my daddy says, already seated at the table with his plate fixed.

  “Sorry,” I reply. “I was watching Deputy Moulder vandalize my fu‒” I clear my throat, catching myself before I drop an f-bomb in front of my mama and Willow, “my car.”

  “He what?” Mama gasps.

  “Busted my taillight.”

  Kaler snickers and Kipton says, “Told you.”

  I shoot Kipton a go-to-hell look as I sit down, and my mama puts my plate in front of me. A few seconds later, she hands me a glass of sweet tea. I thank her and dig into the fried chicken.

  “Is this because you’re trying to have sex with Helene Jacobs?” Mama asks, and me and my brothers all groan out loud.

  “Mama, please,” I reply. “Don’t say that word.”

  “Ses,” Willow repeats, not quite getting the word right, but damn close.

  I grin over at my niece, who has ketchup all over her cheeks. She smiles back at me and lathers another piece of her chicken in the red sauce on her plate, effectively coating her fingers as well. She holds it out to me, offering me a bite, and I take it, making her laugh.

  She’s already stripped out of her dress she wore to church and is at the table in only her panties and the princess crown I bought her for Christmas. It only stays on her head because it has a little strap on it that loops underneath her chin.

  “Sex is a natural ac,t and all of you boys do it,” Mama says. “Me and your daddy‒”

  “Stop!” I almost yell and then laugh when I realize Kaler and Kipton’s response was the same as mine and at the exact same time. “I’m not having sex with Helene and if I was, it wouldn’t be any of Pastor Jacobs’ business.”

  “How long have the two of you been carrying on with one another?” Mama asks, and I roll my eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me boy!”

  “Mama, there’s nothing serious going on,” I assure you.

  “Well, you just need to decide if she’s worth the trouble,” Daddy suggests. “It will only get worse.”

  I nod, barely taking his advice to heart. If I had known what my future would hold with Helene, maybe I would have listened. Maybe I would have ended things with her right then and there.

  Then again, I was always a stubborn son of a bitch.

  Helene

  I try to focus on my laptop screen, but the words seem to run together. I’ve sat through four lectures today and had three exams. I have a term paper due, and I’m tutoring Willow tonight. I love tutoring Willow, so that’s the highlight of my day. While I love school, I’m in my third year and there are days when I feel burned out. Today is one of those days and it’s not quite over for me yet.

  It’s probably because I got in an argument with my daddy this morning before I left home. He calls rummaging in my room and checking my phone ‘parenting’ but I call it snooping. I’m not a kid anymore. I am a grown up, and I wish he would treat me like one. I threatened to move out, and he begged me not to. Said that since my mama died, I’m all he has. Our relationship is exhausting. I’m not sure what I can do to show him I’m not his little girl anymore.

  I don’t want to leave him on bad terms. He took it extremely hard when my mama died. He had been by her side the entire time she fought lymphoma, perhaps never truly expecting that she would succumb to her illness. I don’t think I ever believed she would either. We prayed and prayed relentlessly. Sometimes the things we desire aren’t God’s will, and we aren’t meant to understand his decisions to take our loved ones from us.

  “Helene?”

  I startle, looking over my shoulder to the girl who has called my name. I don’t recognize her and furrow my brow at her.

  “Can you come help me find a book? The librarian said you checked it out last.”

  I have no earthly idea what she’s talking about, and honestly, I don’t have time for some sort of sorority game. I’ve already been the victim of those before, and I tell her that, turning back to my laptop.

  “Helene, just come show me the book, please,” she presses, and I reluctantly close my laptop, gathering it in my arms and getting up from my seat.

  “I’m serious,” I tell her, following her up the stairs. “If this is some sort of sick joke you’re trying to play on the preacher’s daughter then…”

  My voice trails when I see Tauren seated on a chair in one of the reading sections. He’s grinning, and he thanks the girl before patting his lap. I mumble a quiet thanks to her before going to sit on his lap.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him. “Did you call me?”

  “I needed help with a library book,” he answers, playfully, his arms wrapping around my waist. “And I know your daddy checks your phone.”

  That’s true. If I hadn’t deleted the calls and texts from Tauren last night, he would’ve seen them this morning. That’s why we rarely talk on the phone.

  “How are you here this early?”

  He shrugs. “Our job finished early, and we didn’t want to start the next one until the morning.”

  There’s a few students milling about, but people our age aren’t too concerned with what we’re doing. It’s the people my daddy’s age that I have to be worried about. The people he’s friends with and the people we go to church with. That’s the people who are so consumed with everyone else’s lives because they have no lives of their own.

  “Now, tell me about the sorority girls,” he says. “Did they make you do naughty things?”

  I know he’s joking, but he has no idea how cruel those types of girls can be. How it was fun for them to play cruel jokes on me simply because of who I was. I shake my head, not wanting to elaborate. Not wanting to relive what happened. I’ve moved past it. I was a freshman then, and now I’m a junior.

  “You’ve been the only person to make me do naughty things,” I reply, shyly, and he brings his hand to my face, guiding my mouth down to his.

  “I have a lot more in store for you, Helene Jacobs,” he grins
wickedly.

  I squeeze my legs together, heat flooding my core at his words, and return his kiss. He lowers his hand and places it on my thigh. I can feel the warmth of his palm through the fabric of my skirt.

  “I love that you always wear skirts or dresses. Can I touch you?” he whispers against my lips.

  I look around, and we’re alone, but I’m still afraid. Not afraid that he’ll hurt me, because I know he would never mean to, but because I fear that if I allow him to touch me, if I give him this access again, that I will never want him to stop.

  My feelings for him terrify me. I want things that I shouldn’t want. Sinful things. Things that I know better than to want.

  No, he would never mean to hurt me, but he will. He doesn’t value the same things that I do. He doesn’t want marriage, kids, the whole picket fence life. I want those things. I need to have those things in my life.

  Maybe I’ve been lying to myself this entire time. Telling myself that I can convince him he does want those things because I want him that much. Because I love him that much. That maybe I can want them enough for the both of us.

  He’s going to break me.

  “Don’t be afraid, Helene,” he urges me. “You know how good I can make you feel. Something that good can’t be a sin.”

  “It is actually,” I tell him, half-smiling.

  “Let me corrupt you then,” he pushes. “I’ll take all the fucking blame.”

  “Yes,” I sigh, unable to tell him no. “Please touch me.”

  Tauren’s hand slips beneath my skirt and slides up my inner thigh. I grip his shoulder, my mouth close to his, not moving. His fingers brush against the thin layer of my panties, and he moves them aside. I bite my bottom lip when he nudges the tip of his finger inside me. It isn’t painful, but it’s still an intrusion I’m not accustomed to.

  “Relax,” he encourages. “Just relax, baby.”

  I spread my legs a little for him, wanting to please him. Desperate to show him I can be enough for him. Wanting to give him what he wants.

  What I want.

  He slides his finger inside me to the knuckle and begins to move it. After a few seconds, he’s pumping his finger into me faster and faster, using his thumb to press against my tender flesh. I’m panting now, and he’s whispering to me, telling me how good I feel to him. How proud he is of me. The things he wants to do to me. The things he will do to me.

  “You like it, don’t you, Helene?” he asks me. “You like when I finger fuck you. When I tease that tight cunt of yours until your whole body is shivering. Begging for me to give you more. More of me.”

  Then it happens again, for the third time in my life. This heat comes over my body and tension builds deep inside me. I can’t control it, and I don’t want to. I just want to let it control me. My eyes close, and my head lulls back. My mouth parts, and before I can scream out, Tauren lifts my head and kisses me.

  “I love you,” I whisper when he slows his strokes and eases his finger out of me.

  My surroundings come back into view, the library books surrounding us and the students in the distance. No one is paying us any attention. We had another stolen moment and all too quickly it’s over.

  No, he will never mean to hurt me, but yes, he’s going to break me. I know it because he kisses my lips but doesn’t tell me he loves me.

  Yet I can’t walk away.

  Chapter Three

  Tauren

  I love watching Helene fall apart for me. Love making her come because I know, without a doubt, that I am the only person who has made her do that. I don’t believe she’s ever touched herself before; her pussy is so tight. I’ll have to get her to do that for me. While I watch.

  I get out of my car, adjusting my dick, which has gotten hard at the thought of Helene fingering herself. I strut across my parents’ lawn, giving their neighbor, Mr. Cavenshaw, a wave as I step onto their porch.

  Like usual, I don’t bother knocking before I head inside. I pray I never walk in on them bumping uglies. Again. One time at sixteen was enough to last me a lifetime.

  “Mama!” I call out, and she answers from the kitchen, her usual spot.

  It’s not that my daddy requires her to cook a five-course meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but because she usually volunteers to make meals for some of the elderly folks in town. She makes them and freezes them in containers so they can thaw them out when they’re ready to eat them.

  I’m happy to say she makes several of these for me as well. My freezer is stocked. I never have to cook for myself. Good thing, since a grilled cheese is the extent of my cooking.

  She also does birthday and wedding cakes for a little profit. Never hurts to make some money off something you’re good at. My mama is definitely damn good at cooking.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she greets me. “How was work?”

  “It was fine. We finished up Mr. O’Keeffe’s storage unit today, and we’ll be working in Westmont the next few weeks after a couple more days here in Chapelwood for another small job,” I answer her. “You busy next Friday night?”

  I get straight to the point on why I came by. It’s not all that uncommon for me to drop by their house or even my brothers’ houses unannounced. I don’t have the same responsibilities they do, so I can come and go as I please. Exactly the way I prefer it.

  “We have choir practice at the church. We’ve been working on that Easter cantata,” she answers. “You know Joyce wasn’t too happy with how the Christmas Cantata turned out, so she wants us to redeem ourselves with this Easter one. Been working us half to death.”

  I knew that would be her answer. The choir has been practicing Sundays and Wednesdays after church, and now Mrs. Snyder is throwing in Friday nights too. Who goes to choir practice on a Friday night? I swear, that lady must not ever get laid.

  “Do you think you can lead the choir practice that night?” I ask her, taking a few of the containers she has ready and putting them into the tote she plans to use to deliver them in.

  “Why in the world would I do that?”

  “Because Pastor Jacobs is going to be out of town and Mrs. Snyder stuck Helene with leading, and she doesn’t want to,” I answer truthfully.

  “Why didn’t Helene just tell her no?”

  I sigh. “Now, mama, this is church folk we’re talking about. Mrs. Snyder didn’t take no for an answer.”

  She eyes me suspiciously. “Oh, no you don’t! I am not getting in the middle of whatever this thing between y’all is! I am not going to lead choir so y’all can run off together and do God knows what!”

  God does know. He knows all. And Lord, help me, the things he knows I should be ashamed of. But I don’t say this to my mama.

  “Mama, please! We never get to see each other because of her damn daddy! Cut us some slack!” I plead. “It’s one choir practice, and I’ll have her back home before choir practice is over.”

  I can see that she’s conceding. I know that look because I’ve seen it hundreds of times. I’m pretty sure by the time my parents had me, although I’m only a year and a half younger than Kipton, that they were tired of raising kids because they let me get away with practically everything. Hence riding my bicycle in church.

  “Bless your heart, son,” Mama says. “I guess I’ll do it. Lord, help us.”

  I send up a thank you to him and pray that he doesn’t strike me down for the wicked things I plan to do.

  Helene

  I hold up the flashcard and Willow makes a face. She never likes the letter side of the cards, preferring the picture side. I alternate them so that we both get our way and she doesn’t fuss as much.

  “Which letter is this?” I ask her a second time.

  I’m certain she knows it. She’s gotten it right before. She just needs to think about it sometimes.

  “A!” she yells excitedly.

  “And what sound does “A” make?” I ask her.

  “Aaa!” she replies, holding her mouth open and sticking her tongue out.
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br />   I clap and tell her she did a good job. She does a little dance, throwing her arms in the air and shaking her body from side to side. I mimic her so that we can celebrate together for a moment. She loves positive reinforcement, and I absolutely love giving it to her.

  We finish up the flashcards and then climb onto the couch to play a game on her iPad where she has to choose the correct colors and shapes. She misses a few on this one, but she’s getting tired. Our tutoring session usually starts around seven o’clock, after her supper and bath. I only tutor her for about thirty minutes because that’s all her little mind can handle, and I can always tell when she’s ready to stop.

  “Okay, last one,” I tell her, and she shoots off the couch. I get up, unsure of what she’s up to until I see the excitement on her face.

  “Taur! Taur!”

  I close out the game and turn off her iPad, knowing she will not be coming back to our tutoring session now that Tauren is here. He usually tries to drop in at the end of our tutoring sessions, knowing it’s one of the few times we get to see each other.

  We started flirting with each other at a church picnic about a year ago. Yes, that long ago. We’ve had moments where we’ve been alone or occasions where we’ve hung out with his brothers, but they are always stolen moments or times when I’ve snuck off to see him. It’s difficult to do in such a small town because everyone knows everyone, and they love to tell your business to anyone who is willing to listen. Since my daddy is the police chief, he’s always willing to listen.

  He caught us talking at church one Sunday and forbid me to see Tauren. He refused to give me his blessing on going out on an official date with him, not caring how I felt about him. Most guys would’ve given up and moved on, but not Tauren. He said he liked a challenge.

  We had our first official date without my daddy’s knowledge. It was a simple picnic at his brother’s fishing pond, and that was where I had my first kiss. I knew there was no turning back after that.