by Karina Halle
He moves his head down next, lips trailing over my stomach, leaving hot sparks in their wake. With rough hands he grabs my thighs, pushing them apart before he buries his head between my legs.
I hiss, lifting up my hips as his lips go directly for my clit, sucking me in his mouth like candy. “Shit,” I cry out, his tongue licking me up and down with the kind of feverish drive a madman would possess.
I want nothing more than to lower my arms and grab his hair but I fight the urge to be in control and just let myself submit to him.
“Harder,” I tell him as his lips brush gently, his pace slowing.
His big hands take hold of my ass, grasping it until I swear I might bruise, and then he lifts my hips off the bed, thrusting my pussy into his face.
Holy fuck.
My eyes fly open, my mouth dropping, as his tongue plunges deep inside me, again and again and…
I’m coming.
I can’t even warn him, I just yelp, the orgasm clawing through me like a monster. I shake from core, radiating outward, until my bones feel rattled, and my lungs are screaming for my breath and a fuckload of gibberish falls from my lips. I sound as mad as he feels when he’s eating me out, and he doesn’t stop either, just keeps going until I stop coming.
I barely have time to collect my thoughts and keep my heart in my chest before he grabs my ass again and pushes his cock right into me.
“Fuck,” I say through a groan, breathless all over again as he pushes himself into the hilt.
He gets on his knees while keeping himself deep inside me, not moving, taking his time. I look up and watch him as he stares down where his cock disappears inside me, brows together, transfixed. He breathes out slowly through his nose, shaking a little.
He knows he’s close to coming already and is trying to tamper himself down. I want to tell him it’s okay, I already got off and no doubt I’ll get off again, but I know he’d ignore me anyway. The man does not like to rush.
Slowly, very slowly, he starts to pull out in a teasing, agonizing fashion. I can feel the stiff, rigid lines of his dick as it passes through me, firing up all the nerves.
He lets out a shaky breath, pulling back until only the tip is still inside me. Then he lifts my hips even higher, raising my legs until they’re pressed up against his chest. He grabs my calves and presses them together, then with his eyes locked on mine, and the other hand grabbing my waist, pushes himself back in.
The air leaves my lungs and another wayward cry comes from deep inside me. I can feel him so raw and deep and thick, it’s unreal. The angle is making my eyes roll back into my head.
When I manage to look up again, I can tell it’s doing the same for him. He’s grinding his teeth together in concentration, his jaw wiggling as he tries to keep himself held back and in control. His eyes meet mine and I see the beast inside him, the one that’s fighting to be let loose from the cage. I want to let that beast out, I want that beast to fuck the life out of me until I scream.
“Move,” I whisper to him, my voice ragged as I try to adjust my hips. “Fuck me.”
His gaze pins me in place and he shakes his head.
“I thought this was all about me,” I tell him, half-joking.
A hint of a smile graces his determined face. “It’s always about you, love. Now let me fuck you like I want to. Call it part of my birthday present.”
Well, when he puts it that way.
So I let him fuck me the way he wants, and I succumb to the slow push and pull of his cock as it slides in and out of me, dragging over every sensitive nerve. I’m practically begging for him to go faster, harder, and I’m writhing all over the bed as a result, but he takes his sweet time fucking.
Eventually though, I can see the beast coming through.
Sweat starts to bead on his brow.
His muscles contract.
His grip around my calves tighten while he slips his other hand around and puts his thumb on my clit, causing me to gasp.
Primal lust burns in his eyes, making my body go further up in flames.
And then he can’t hold back any longer.
With punishing force, he starts rutting his hips against me, faster, harder, his cock driving in so deep that I’m practically impaled. Each rough, feral push makes my tits jostle, driving the bed into the wall.
He’s fucking me like he’s playing a game, in it to win, with only one focus.
Then I’m coming again, his thumb slipping against my clit in a slick and slippery hurry. I clench around him tight, tight, tight, yelling his name, and I know that’s enough to set him off like a motherfucking bomb.
He explodes with a deep roar that ripples through the air in the room like a shockwave, his face contorted as he comes inside of me, his hips give two more long, hard thrusts. Every muscle in his sculpted body is strained and tense.
And then he relaxes. Fully lets go.
He’s breathing hard and so am I, delirious and sated.
He pulls out and then crawls next to me on the bed, glancing up briefly at my hands still tied above my head.
“Aye, I guess I should untie that,” he says, his voice coarse. He reaches up with what strength he has left and untangles my bra from my wrists. My hands are numb but it doesn’t matter, because the rest of me feels numb too, from my body to brain.
Only my heart feels immensely full.
And from the way Lachlan is looking at me, with passion and aching tenderness, I know he feels the same way too.
***
The next morning we both sleep in. Lachlan doesn’t have practice, and I already took the day off work knowing I’d be busy with his birthday party. After our sexcapade yesterday after everyone left, we both passed out. Then woke up, took out the dogs, made dinner, then fell back into bed together. I don’t know if it was in the air, but I had no complaints as my beast gave me orgasm after orgasm into the night.
Now, I’m worn out and sleepy and so is he.
I roll over and face him. His eyes are open, staring at me, a soft smile on his kissable, full lips. “Happy birthday,” I whisper to him.
He reaches over and grabs my hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says.
“I hope you know that my birthday and V-Day gifts to you were combined.”
“After last night, you don’t have to give me anything else for the rest of your life.”
I laugh. “And why would I torture myself like that. Here, you stay in bed, I’m bringing you coffee and breakfast.”
I get out of bed, shivering slightly from the draft that creeps in through the old windows, and slip on my robe and fuzzy slippers.
Of course when I leave the bedroom, I see Lionel and Emily waiting impatiently for me. Okay, I definitely have to let them out for a quick pee before I do anything else, poor pups.
I slip on my boots, and still just wearing my robe, I leash the dogs and grab some poop bags just in case, leaving the flat. I don’t care if anyone sees me dressed like this, since I do it all the time.
This morning, however, with all the snow, makes things pretty nippy. I run across the street to the small park and let the dogs quickly pee, and then I’m running back.
I stop in the middle of the road, dead in my tracks.
There’s a middle-aged woman standing outside of our building, wearing a thick brown coat.
It’s not just any woman.
It’s Lachlan’s mother.
My stomach sinks. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
She spots me and raises her hand in a wave.
Oh no, fuck me.
This is the worst thing that could happen today.
I don’t return the wave or the smile. In fact, it takes all my willpower to keep from marching over to her and slapping her across the face.
I slowly approach her, stopping a few feet away.
“Ms. Lockhart,” I address her, folding my arms. The dogs stare up at her, wary. They’ve met her before. They remember. “What are you doing here?”
&nbs
p; “It’s my boy’s birthday,” she says, frowning, a stiff smile on her weathered face, showing off her chipped teeth. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“He is not your boy anymore,” I snap at her. “You gave up your right to call him that when you gave him away. I thought we made it perfectly clear that you’re not welcome in his life anymore.”
Her smile turns evil. “No, my dear. You made it clear. I have yet to hear it from my son.”
“He’s not your son and he’ll never be your son again.”
“Kayla, right?” she says, as if she didn’t ruin our wedding. “Let me see him. He’s a big boy, he can decide for himself if I’m worth it or not.”
I shake my head. “Get lost.”
I push past her and go inside the building, leaving her outside.
I know it seems like I’m a stone-cold bitch to say all that to an older lady, particularly one who had a lifetime of bad decisions and absent luck.
But I’ve been down this path before. Both of us have.
Until our wedding, Lachlan hadn’t seen his birth mom since his orphanage days. He moved on. He was adopted by Brigs’ parents, they raised him the rest of the way with love and devotion. He got his rugby career, he fell in love with me, and our love story was just getting started.
But she showed up, back into his life.
He fell off the wagon. Started drinking again.
The weeks prior to our wedding and after our wedding were the worst we’d ever gone through as a couple. It rocked our new marriage, it tested our bonds and our love for each other. It was an awful, angry time and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. At some points it looked like the wedding would be called off, and other times it seemed like we might get it annulled.
It was far too much for any new couple to handle.
And yet we dug deep in our love for each other.
For better or for worse, those were the vows we took to heart.
And we came out of it stronger than ever.
But she’s got another thing coming if she thinks she can waltz back into his life again and turn it upside down. I’m not going through that again and I won’t let her destroy her son. What if he sinks even further than he did the last time?
So I run up the stairs with the dogs and into the flat, my heart racing with a sense of doom. I don’t know what to tell Lachlan, if I should tell him anything at all. I just don’t know how to keep this a secret from him.
You need to try, I tell myself. For his sake. It’s his birthday, he’s in a good mood, his family is in town, don’t ruin this. Suffer silently with the truth.
I decide to suffer.
I go into the kitchen and start making him breakfast, but then he gets out of bed and moseys on over to me, slipping his hand around my waist and kissing the back of my neck while I fry the eggs.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” I tell him, raising my spatula like a weapon.
“I need coffee,” he murmurs, placing a kiss beneath my hair. “And dare I say, I missed you?”
I should be focusing on his sweet, sweet words, but instead I keep thinking about his mother outside in the snow. I’m starting to feel bad, even though I shouldn’t, wondering if I’ll ever tell him the truth.
Then I realize I don’t have to.
There’s a knock at our door.
Four
Lachlan
Someone knocks on our door just as I’m grabbing the coffee pot.
“Who could that be?” I muse, putting the pot back down. I glance over at Kayla and her face has gone white, her eyes filled with terror. What the fuck?
“No, Lachlan,” she says but I’m already making my way over to the door. For all we know it’s Brigs or someone, though I can’t imagine why Kayla should look so damn afraid.
“Lachlan,” she cries out again, pulling at my arm, her voice cracking with desperation but now all I want to know is who is on the other side of this door.
I open it.
Everything inside me goes into a deep freeze.
It’s my mother.
Standing right there on the other side of the door.
Snowflakes have gathered in her thinning grey hair and on the shoulders of her shabby coat. She looks cold, shivering slightly, her face pale. If it were anyone else in the world, especially because she looks so fucking frail, I’d be ushering her inside.
Even now, knowing it’s her, this woman who ruined my life over and over again and caused pain so deep that the wounds will never have a chance to scar, will always remain raw, I still feel bad. I shouldn’t. I should never feel bad.
But I do.
I bat that feeling away, my heart hardening in my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“You mean your wife didn’t tell you?” she asks, her voice going razor thin over the word wife.
I swallow, glancing at Kayla over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, pressing her hands together. “I just ran into her outside.”
I’m angry at her for not telling me, so I wouldn’t be so fucking blindsided as I am right now, but this isn’t the time for me to turn against her.
I look back at my mother. “So what do you want?” My grip on the door tightens and I hope I have the strength to close it on her face.
“I just came to wish you a happy birthday.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Is that it? Because I got the wish. You can go now.”
“Lachlan, please,” she says in a pleading voice. “It’s cold out and I…I have nowhere to go at the moment. Just let me inside for a bit to warm up and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“No,” I hear Kayla seethe under her breath. “Lachlan, she’s lying.”
I’m torn. I have my wife behind me and I want to believe her, believe my mother is lying because that’s what she does, it’s what she’s always done. But then what kind of a person would I be if I refused her right now? This isn’t a matter of her being my birth mother, this is a matter of just being a human.
I don’t know what to do.
And the more I stare at my mother, the more I’m pulled back in time.
Finally I stand back and open the door wider. “Stay until you get warm. Then you need to go.”
She gives me a grateful smile. “Oh thank you Lachlan, thank you.”
She bustles in past me and Kayla doesn’t even take a step back. Usually I admire her tenacity, but right now it might make things more complicated. I know that Kayla loathes my mother with the fire of a thousand bloody suns.
“Why don’t you take the dogs out for a walk,” I tell Kayla. I want to tell her that by the time she comes back, my mother will be gone, hopefully for good.
She shakes her head, shooting daggers at my mother. “No. I just took them for a walk. They’re fine.”
“You didn’t take them very far,” my mother says. “And just in your house robe. Perhaps if you dress up properly.”
I wince internally because Kayla will not like that.
I glance at her. Yup. She’s about to burst into flames.
I give her a pleading look. I know she wants to stay, to help, to protect me. But she can’t fight all my battles for me. I have to do this on my own.
Eventually she gives in, though she’s mad as hell. She pulls on her coat, leashes up the dogs and then leaves, slamming the door.
“Your wife could use some manners,” my mother says.
“What the fuck gives you the fucking right to talk about my wife,” I whip around and yell at her, shoving my finger in front of her. “You keep her out of your mouth. She is not your business.”
My mother slides her hands into her coat, raising her chin. “She makes me her business when I try to see you and she prevents me. You know what she told me Lachlan when she found me out there in the snow? She said get lost. What kind of a person would say that?”
“Someone who has had enough of your shit,” I sneer, my heart starting to race, my skin growing hot and tigh
t. My temper is usually pretty even, but not with my mother and not now, on today of all days. “And I’ve had enough of your shit too. The only reason I let you in is because I took pity on you. And pity is all you’re going to get from me.”
I storm past her, feeling out of my mind, pacing around.
“Just pity? How about a cup of coffee?”
Fuck.
“Yes. Of course,” I tell her, heading into the kitchen. I take the moment to keep my back to her and take in a deep breath through my nose. I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack. I can barely breathe.
Keep it fucking together, I tell myself.
My hand shakes as I pour her a cup of coffee.
I bring it over to her and now she’s sitting on the sofa, her coat beside her.
She looks awful.
She’s just bones underneath her thin sweater, the lines on her neck deep and freckled. The more I look at her, the more she starts to look like a monster, and more like…me. Or the version of myself I could have so easily become.
There’s no doubt she’s still using meth, she has it written all over her, from her teeth, to her weight, to the dark circles under her eyes that almost look like sockets on a skull. She’s spent her whole life, or at least from the time she had me, like this and to be honest, I’m surprised she’s still alive.
But when she takes the coffee from me, her movements are spry and there’s a sharpness to her gaze, that tells me even if she’s a drunk and a drug addict, she’s sober enough now.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?” she asks, taking a sip of the coffee. She makes a face. “Rather weak, isn’t it?”
“The less I know about you, the better.”
She shakes her head. “Still ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful!?” I explode. “What the fuck should I be grateful for!?”
“I made mistakes when I was younger, Lachlan. Why are you punishing me for something I did when I was lost and couldn’t afford you?”
“You gave up on me! You gave me away!”
“I did what was best for you and you know it. Stop trying to blame me for everything that went wrong in your life. If anything, I saved you. Had you stayed with me, you may have never become what you have. You should be thanking me.”