by Nicole Fox
I lie back and let Courtney take care of my needs in a way I didn’t know I needed them to be taken care of.
So, when I finally come, it’s hard and long, and I could sleep right there on the wood floor.
When Courtney tries to pull away, I wrap my arms around her, holding her against my chest, staying inside of her as long as I can. I’m not ready for it to be over.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken out loud until Courtney laughs and kisses my nose. “Well, sir, as soon as you’re ready, we can do it again.”
The suggestion sends a surge of renewed energy to the lower half of my body, and I immediately pick Courtney up and carry her, naked, across the house and into my bedroom where I hold her to her promise.
And we do it again.
18
Dmitry
I sit in my office, phone in front of me, and wait.
Several times, I’ve reached for my phone, certain it was about to ring, but nothing happened.
It’s midmorning, just after 10:00, and they should be done by now. Everything should be in place, and I should be getting a call. Any moment now.
Just as panic begins to creep in, my phone rings.
“It’s done.”
I sigh, realizing it’s the first full breath I’ve taken all morning. “Are you in position?”
“Yes,” Pasha says. “At a hotel down the street. As soon as they come outside, we’re ready to act.”
The Italians are holding their council meeting at an abandoned funeral home. Apt, considering what is about to happen to them.
After the shootout at the apartment building, I sent several of my men on a reconnaissance mission. We needed to know more about the Italians’ plans and their movements so we could stop reacting and start acting. While watching a bar where many of the Italians liked to hang out, Pasha and a couple other men grabbed a drunk Italian and brought him to me where he was sobered up and then tortured for information.
Finally, under threat of having both of his femurs broken, he relented and told us about the meeting time and location of many of the Italian lieutenants.
“Good,” I say. “I’m leaving now.”
I use the alley to get to the hotel so I don’t draw any unnecessary eyes our direction. The men are set up in the lobby of the hotel. There is a closed sign in the front window and the manager has been threatened into loyalty.
Rurik and Pasha are both near the front window, staring towards the boarded-up building down the street.
“They’ll be leaving any minute,” Rurik says. “We planted a bug, too. The feedback is shit, but we’ll hear when the meeting is over.”
I’ve only been there ten minutes when Rurik tenses and gestures for everyone to pay attention. Slowly, men start to come out of the building. A few of them get in their cars towards the back of the lot and reverse, and Rurik looks at me with a question in his eyes, but I shake my head.
“Wait for more. There will be more.”
He nods, and we watch as the trickle of people from the building turns to a flood. There are twenty men heading for their cars. We won’t get that many again, so I nod.
And the plan begins. There are two parts to come: A set of explosives to scatter the Italians, then a massacre to take them out like rats escaping a sinking ship.
First, the ground seems to crack beneath our feet.
The sound comes next, a deep rumble like thunder that rattles the windows of the hotel. When I’m certain the glass won’t shatter, I step forward and see the plume of smoke moving into the sky.
Then another. And another. And another. Bombs like fireworks, each one a dull boom followed by the screams of dying men.
And with each successive explosion, the rats begin to scurry.
“Nice job, Pasha,” Rurik says, clapping him on the back.
Pasha grins, proud of his bomb work.
“Now we move,” I order. “Rurik, you and your squad take the east approach. I will circle around from the west. And men…”
I look up. All eyes are on me.
“Leave no one alive.”
I hear the cocking of guns, the murmur of assent, and then we depart in two waves to rid the city of the Italian stain that I have let linger for far, far too long.
The Italians have attacked us again and again, fucking with our supply lines and threatening my men, so it feels good to fight back. To retaliate.
To destroy.
We squint through the smoke, tripping over shrapnel and body parts, and we don’t find each other again until we get inside the front door.
I can hear shouting.
Panic.
But it’s coming from all over.
There’s a door to the left, another to the right, a hallway that extends deeper into the building, and a set of stairs. I have three men with me, and I send them each in a different direction. Rurik goes upstairs, and I head towards the back of the building.
The sound of their shouting is too loud for the Italians to hear my footsteps, so the two men in the kitchenette don’t even turn around as I lift my gun and take aim.
They hit the floor without ever knowing who shot them.
I search the rooms at the back of the house, but there is no one left, and when I get back to the lobby, my men are waiting there.
Everyone except Rurik.
I’m halfway up the stairs, shouting his name, when he appears from a side bedroom. There’s blood running down his cheek from a cut, but otherwise, he’s fine.
We load up and leave as sirens approach, feeling victorious for the first time in months.
Why don’t you and Uncle Dmitry go to dinner by yourselves? Courtney asks Tati. I’m impressed with how good her signing has become in such a short amount of time.
Tati grabs her hand and shakes it, jumping up and down. No.
She’s insistent that Courtney come to dinner with us. Tati is also insistent that Courtney wear a dress.
A princess dress, she corrects when either of us forgets that small detail. It has to be beautiful. Like Courtney.
The days since we’ve told Tati about her parents have been up and down, a constant fluctuation of good and bad moments. For now, this is a good moment.
Tati is excited about something, and when I look at Courtney, I know she doesn’t want to disappoint her. So, we climb in the back of the SUV and head to a dress shop downtown. No one even considered the mall after the last trip we had there.
The shop is small, and I pay the owner to lock it from the public while we’re inside. She hesitates at first, until she sees the wad of cash I’m holding out to her. Then, suddenly, she’s more than willing to do that, as well as personally design and tailor a dress for Tati, who loves that idea more than anything. For the amount of money I just handed to her, I almost expect her to plant cotton seeds and harvest the fabric for the dress herself.
“She isn’t as concerned about my dress anymore,” Courtney comments wryly as we stand back and watch Tati pick out gowns in every color of the rainbow.
“No, but I am,” I say, grabbing her shoulders and turning her towards the racks. “You deserve something nice. Pick whatever you want.”
Courtney groans. “I don’t need a dress.”
“You can’t wear jeans to dinner,” I say. Though, truthfully, Courtney looks in jeans the way most women look in ten-thousand-dollar dresses. The woman knows how to wear denim.
She turns to me, her lower lip pinched between her teeth. “I don’t want you to have to buy me anything else. It doesn’t seem right. You’re giving me more than I’m giving you.”
Her father’s words flash in my mind. Courtney picked up the idea that you have to work for love. That you have to do something to earn it.
I step around her and grab a long black dress with a deep slit in the front and hold it in front of her. Even imagining her in something like that sends blood rushing to places that it should not rush while in public. I drape the dress over my arm and keep looking.
“You’ve
been so good with Tati. You take care of her more than I ever expected, and she clearly loves you. That has been an amazing gift,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “I’ve been busy. Knowing you’re there to take care of her has been a huge help.”
Her cheeks go pink, and she twists her lips to the side, still uncertain.
“Tati has a hard time trusting people. A lot of people look at her strangely because she doesn’t talk and can’t hear; they don’t take time to get to know her. So, she’s closed off.”
“She loves you,” Courtney says.
“Because I was close with her dad,” I say, swallowing the lump that rises in my throat whenever I talk about him. “My brother and I were close … mostly because my father was such a piece of shit. We only had each other. Tati looked at me like a second father, almost. Now, I guess, I’m her dad, in a matter of speaking.”
Her hand on my shoulder settles the storm in my chest, and I give her a tight-lipped smile. “It wasn’t all bad. My father raised my brother and me to be strong men. To be good leaders. My brother became the world’s most amazing father to Tati, and I went on to do what I do. To be a leader of men.”
I grab a red dress and lay it over the black one, and Courtney grabs them both from my arm, offering to hold them while I continue to browse the shop for her. Under normal circumstances, I’d never go dress shopping. But for Courtney … well, it isn’t so horrible.
“You and your brother may have turned out okay,” she says, pausing for a long time. “But I guess now you need to decide who you would rather emulate as a father: your father or your brother?”
The question is one I’ve considered too many times and for too long, and I still don’t have an answer. Not because I don’t know who I would like to be, but because I’m not sure if it’s possible.
Courtney tries on the dresses alone and doesn’t show me which one she decided on, so my only job is to hand over my credit card when the cashier asks for it.
As we’re leaving the store—Tati running ahead to see a display in the window of a toy store—Courtney bends forward slightly and grabs her stomach.
“Are you okay?” I ask, rubbing a circle across her lower back.
She takes a deep breath and nods. “Just a little nausea. I’ve been feeling sick all week.”
I raise a brow, and she looks up at me, nodding her head. “I know, I know. I’ve also been really tired and the smell of eggs makes me want to hurl.”
There’s a small corner store at the end of the street, so I tell Courtney to watch Tati—ignoring her nervous expression at the thought of being alone with Tati again—and run ahead to purchase a pregnancy test.
The clerk, a teenage kid with acne on his chin, asks under his breath whether I’ve missed my period, but I’m nervous enough that I ignore him instead of putting the fear of God into his heart, like I ought to do.
The box feels like a weight in my pocket, slapping against my leg as we walk to the car. By the time we get to the house and Tati goes in for her physical therapy, I’m desperate to hand it off to Courtney.
Her hand shakes as she grabs it and walks into the bathroom.
I pace outside the door, trying to consider what this means.
For me. For us.
Tati just came into my custody. I’m still trying to figure out how to be a father to her, and now there’s a possibility I will have a newborn.
I didn’t plan for this. Didn’t prepare for it.
When Courtney walks out, she nods her head immediately, dark hair tumbling forward over her shoulder. Her bare feet squish nervously in the carpet.
“Positive.”
I can tell she’s waiting for my reaction, but I don’t know how to react. I don’t know how to explain how I feel without it all coming out … wrong.
“How do you feel?” I ask finally.
She sighs, her pink lips puckered around an exhale. When she looks at me, her brown eyes are soft and warm. “I’m terrified. Scared shitless,” she admits. “But also … ”
“Also what?” I ask, encouraging her.
“It may sound crazy, but this also feels like what I’ve always wanted,” she says. “I just never knew it until now.”
I take a step towards her and wrap an arm around her lower back, pulling her against me. “Me too.”
She snaps her attention up to my face. “You want this? Because you don’t have to. I can do it on my own. I know this isn’t something you planned, and—”
I quiet her with a kiss, my lips brushing softly against hers. Then, without meaning to, the kiss grows heated. I pin her to the wall, my hands sliding down to her hips.
Then, I realize Courtney is pushing on my chest. I step back and let her lead me to my room, where she shuts the door and pushes me towards the bed.
“I’ll be here for you,” I tell her as she lays me back and crawls over me. “I’ll take care of whatever you need.”
Courtney unbuttons my pants and slides them down my legs along with my boxers. I spring free, at full attention, and Courtney licks her lips as she straddles my thighs.
“I’ll be the right kind of father,” I say, though I’m not sure I know what that means.
She wraps her hand around my base and nods. “I know you will.”
Then, her mouth is on me, warm and tight, and I can’t think about anything. Not what we just learned or what is to come. I can only think about the sensation of her body on mine, her mouth around me.
I watch her bob up and down until I can’t stand it anymore. I tangle my fingers in her hair and drag her up. Then, I roll us both over and, being careful not to crush her beneath my weight, I hook my arm behind her knee and lift one of her legs over my shoulder.
When I push into her, it goes on forever. Deeper than I’ve ever felt, and we both shudder from the connection.
It’s deep in more ways than one. Intimate.
The position doesn’t allow me to kiss her, so I study the way her chest heaves with every breath. I watch her lips part in sighs.
She’s beautiful and honey-warm beneath me, and I don’t want it to end.
But, like all things, it does.
I feel Courtney clench around me and that’s it. I groan as I come, and she falls with me.
Our bodies pulse together until we’re limp and sink into the bed, limbs tangled irreversibly.
I’ve almost dozed off, unconsciousness creeping at the edges of my mind, when I feel Courtney’s warm hand slide down my chest, across my abs, and towards my still throbbing member.
“No way,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m spent, woman.”
She giggles. “We’ll see about that.”
Her mouth closes around me for the second time and the impossible happens. I want her again.
I wonder if there is an end to this want for her? If there is a point at which I’ll grow tired of the taste of her and the feel of her against me.
I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Courtney, and I’m not sure what it means.
Perhaps it’s because she’s carrying my child. Though, I felt this way from the start. Before we’d ever been together.
Once again, I grab Courtney and drag her up my body, but this time she takes control. She grabs the sheet, pulling it over her shoulders, and falls forward until we’re inside of a white globe. Sunlight streams through the sheets in bright white light, and I wish my eyes could take photographs. I wish I could remember the way Courtney looks, naked and backlit above me, her eyes closed in pleasure as she rolls her hips against me.
I grab her hips and direct her onto me again and again, harder and harder until we’re both breathing heavily, losing control.
Then, I hear the rattle of the handle and the squeak of a hinge.
Courtney yelps and falls on top of me, the sheet deflating around us.
“Get out,” I growl to the door, frustrated at the interruption.
When no one answers, my heart lodges in my throat.
I pull the sheet back jus
t enough so my eyes peek out, and I see Tati staring at the bed, forehead wrinkled in confusion. When she sees me, she smiles.
What are you doing?
“Is it Tati?” Courtney whispers.
“Yes.”
Wrestling, I sign back. It’s the first thing I can think of. We’ll be in your room in a minute. Go wait for us.
I want to play, she says, moving towards the bed.
“No!” I shout in a panic. Then, I shake my head. No. Give us a minute. We’ll come to your room and play.
She frowns but obeys, closing the door behind her.
As soon as she’s gone, Courtney collapses on top of me in laughter. “We just got caught. What did you tell her?”
“That we were wrestling.”
Courtney sits up, the sheet falling around her waist, and laughs. The vibration moves through her body and into mine, and despite the interruption, I’m still ready.
I grab her hips and slide her across me all while she’s still cracking up.
“Oh, are we still wrestling?” she whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to my nose and then my lips.
I drive my hips into her, wiping the smile from her face. “Absolutely.”
We finish quickly, panting and sweaty from our “wrestling,” and as Courtney pulls on her clothes and slips out of the room to go into Tati’s, I can’t help but think that this could be our future.
Sneaking sex between play sessions with our kids.
The thought comes on unbidden, but I can’t push the image from my mind. And when I go into Tati’s room and find Courtney helping her dress her many dolls and arrange the furniture in her doll house, the image cements further.
It scares me a little less than it once did.
19
Courtney
Tati’s seventh birthday party is a roaring success.
Since she only recently found out the news about her parents, Dmitry didn’t know if she’d be up to a celebration. Especially since we can’t exactly invite over a bunch of children and parents to his house. Not while the Italians are still looking for any way to attack Dmitry and his Bratva.