by C C Monroe
“Here.” Lifting my brows over her obvious tantrum, I just brush it off and she stomps away with a scowl set deep on her face.
“Fuck, that was awkward.”
Shayla nods, giving me a wink before taking a sip of her tea. I smile over the brim of my water. I need to tell her about Lana or maybe I shouldn’t, maybe Lana would want to do that. Shayla is my sister but those two are thick as thieves. I decide to bite my tongue and bring it up with Lana later.
“True.”
“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you kids about something,” my dad chimes in, giving me a quick once over, but keeping most of his attention on Shayla. Oh no, it’s that famous ‘Tom is about to tell us some real shit’ look. When we were younger, Shayla didn’t take hard conversation with dad too well, she was overly sensitive after the divorce.
“What’s up daddy, is everything okay?” Shay questions, her eyes big with concern.
“Yes, everything is great. I just wanted to let you know your mother has decided to move to Seattle.” I roll my eyes, not even a bit fazed that my dramatic mother is even attempting to do this. She wants our attention and must think this will do the trick. Joke’s on her.
I never really cared too much about my mom. Sure she was around, but it was always on her terms. When she was present she found ways to patronize Shayla and me, judging us, criticizing us, and honestly, just being a terrible bitch. I don’t ever answer her calls, not since she missed Shayla’s graduation day because she was too busy jumping some dude’s dick for a free ride. My mother’s face is the poster for narcissism. She uses men to get ahead in life and she let my sister down on an important day. She missed prom, she missed graduation—our moving day— Shayla’s fucking wedding for crying out loud. Making my hate for her acceptable.
My mother is mostly disappointed in me though. I started partying and drinking when she and my dad split when I was just sixteen. I went out, broke some rules, got some tattoos and became her embarrassment, the son she wished she never had. Oh well. My dad did enough parenting and loving in our household that I was fine without her. Shayla, however, is more in tune with her emotions. She’s a fixer, she believes she needs to fight for people to love her and that’s fucking bullshit. Mothers should love their children without reservation, without stipulations—that’s not Erica. No, Erica is the epitome of the worst example of a semi-present mother.
“Whatever, doesn’t bother me. This town’s big enough and I’ve been hitting the ignore button on her calls without any issues, so let her move here.” I smile a smug grin, hopeful that Shayla will follow suit.
“Well, we can’t stop her and I’m sure this is just a phase. If she wants to see me without ridiculing me and my marriage to Trey, then I’m more than happy to oblige.” We’re all shocked by her reaction.
“Damn, I thought there was gonna be a war. Good thing I raised you two hellions right.” He pats my back and rubs Shay’s knee, where she’s sitting on Trey’s lap.
“What about you dad? You gonna be okay?” I’m my father’s son. Tom loves my mother even after the tornado she set off in his heart. Taking her back after her affairs, fighting to get her to call off the divorce, falling to his knees whenever she gave him an inch to beg for her back. Lana would never cheat and she’s no narcissist, but I would do anything to make her mine, just like my dad would. Two big ass alphas, stuck in love.
His eyes stay on his beer, not coming back up for a brief moment. We all watch as we wait for his response.
“Yes. I still love your mother, I do, but I can’t spend forever loving or wanting someone who doesn’t want me back.”
Truth.
Can I really wait forever for Lana to love or want me back? Deep bar conversations don’t do good things for the fearful mind.
“You deserve better daddy, you’ll find it too, I bet.” Shayla swoops in to save the day, while I sit there obsessing and wallowing in self-pity.
Like clockwork, Lana must know I’m thinking about her. I feel the vibration of my phone in my pocket. Reaching into my worn-out denim jeans I pull out my cell and open the new text I have waiting.
Lana: Hey. I didn’t hear from you today, what are you up to? :D
Excusing myself from the bar, I decide to call her instead.
“Hey,” she answers and I smile at the soft tremble in her low, sultry voice. She sounds like she just woke up.
“Did you just wake up?”
“Yeah, I had some morning sickness all day and I needed to take a quick nap after work. What are you doing?” I step out onto the busy sidewalk, cars honking in the background and bar goers having a great time, setting the scene for a typical Friday night in Seattle. One of the reasons I love this city is the nightlife, every night feels like a weekend.
“I’m out at the bar with my dad, Trey and Shay.”
“Oh, never mind then.” Her sleepy voice is no longer present, she sounds...annoyed.
“What Lana?” I question, matching her frustration. I’m not in the mood for games tonight, especially since I’m already on edge over my little epiphany back there.
“Have fun tonight. Don’t bring anyone too skanky home. Who knows what kind of nasty stuff they have.” I chuckle in amusement, wow, nice.
“I’m gonna ignore that comment,” I sneer.
“It’s the truth.”
“You’re playing with fire, Lana. Careful,” I warn. The heat rolling across my back is tingling up my spine, making my hair stand on edge, only amplifying my aggravation with each second.
“Wow. Well, sorry that I know you get a little horny when you drink. Just looking out for you.” She sounds jealous and for the first time, surprisingly, I don’t like it, it’s infuriating.
“Yes it does. You don’t miss a thing, do you?” I give it back to her, she wants to be sarcastic and territorial, I’ll fucking bite. I hear her huff. The fact that I didn’t say flat out that I wouldn’t fuck anyone else is bothering the shit out of her, just like she is bothering the shit out of me. I would never cheat on her but I’m a smug fucking bastard and I’m gonna give back what she’s dishing out.
“There’s tons of women here, good looking ones too,” I give some bait, ready to rile her up. I face away from the window, facing the street so my crew can’t see me. Lana takes a deep breath through the phone, her irritation erupting.
“You didn’t have to say that. That’s hurtful.”
I ignore her, I’m on a fucking mission. “There’s some blondes, a couple brunettes, all dull witted and vain looking.”
“You’re such an asshole, I don’t know why I bother.” We’re going to fight again, not easing my determined streak. I can’t seem to be anything other than cocky, while she can’t be anything other than insecure.
“Want to know what’s not here?” She chokes out an appalled laugh. I smirk.
“No, Kingston, I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“Oh really, you might like what I have to say,” I entice her with my arrogant response.
“No, I won’t, trust me.” I know she’s standing there pouting, it’s such a Lana thing to do. She’s sassy, it’s part of her finding her freedom again.
“Then hang up,” I challenge her. There’s silence on each end of the line. I’m calm and collected, she heated and breathy. Staying silent, she doesn’t hang up.
Hook, line and sinker. She’s mine.
“There’s something missing here. There’s no sassy brunette with wide hips and a round ass tempting me with the sway of her walk. No pouty lips smarting off to me or making me laugh. No beautiful brown round eyes looking at me with a flirty smile. In fact, you’re on the phone pissing me off and accusing me of some bullshit because you’re jealous.” She stays silent, her breathing coming in loud through the phone.
“Well, guess what, my Queen? There’s only one woman I want to be buried deep in tonight and she’s being a stubborn brat. You want me home baby, all you had to do was ask.”
Lana gasps then huffs again. “Fucking
jerk!” she yells, hanging up the phone.
I pull the phone away, looking at the screen for a minute smirking, debating to call her back or not. I chose not to. She’s mad and turned on now, so I’m gonna enjoy my night with the boys and my sister, then I’ll go home and rile her ass down. I’m a man, not a boy. I don’t cheat on women like I did as a teenager, especially not on my Queen. She should know better than to come to me with that. I want to enjoy my night out and not think about whatever the fuck that was.
I’m exhausted by the time I walk into Lana’s apartment. My back is sore from this morning’s workout and all I want to do is crawl into bed with my girl. It’s barely eleven o’ clock when I drag myself down the hall. Stopping just outside her bedroom door, knowing she’s gonna be there on the other side waiting for a fight after our conversation on the phone earlier, I take a few quick seconds to prepare myself for what’s just opposite the ajar door.
Opening the door slowly, expecting her to be pacing and waiting for me, I’m surprised when she’s sitting on the middle of her bed in another one of my t-shirts with her laptop. She looks beautiful makeup free with her newly cut shoulder length hair. When did she do that? It’s short and sexy, curled in loose waves and I so badly want to reach out and caress it.
I approach her slowly, sizing up her mood.
Finally she speaks first, “I’m sorry.”
Wait, did Lana James just say she was fucking sorry? I try not to look too taken aback, but her apology has me a tad dumbfounded. Lana isn’t usually the first one to say sorry.
“You should be. You know better than that, baby,” I reply arrogantly.
“Kingston, I didn’t have to apologize,” she snaps, closing the laptop.
“Bullshit Lana, you call me after you,” I stand in front of her bed, taking off my shirt, throwing it on the floor, pointing directly at her, “told me you would try and do this thing with me. But no, me going out with my friends and family, completely innocent, by the way, made me the bad guy. Getting nothing but a punch to my fucking stomach.” Opening the drawer I named mine, I grab my sweats and remove my pants and briefs in one swift motion, pulling the sweats on.
I don’t miss the way her breath hitches as she bites her lip when she sees my semi hard cock. Yeah, that happens when I see her. Sue me.
I try to silence the monster in my pants. Grabbing a pillow I leave for the couch, guess I’m sleeping there. I could go home but I’m too fucking tired to. Lana stays in her room, not saying anything back to me as I leave. And fuck if I don’t want to wave a white flag in the air and say I’m sorry. Fighting tonight wasn’t on the agenda, but I instigated it so now I have to deal with the consequences.
Turning back before I clear her doorway, I look at her. “I’m a lot of things, baby, but a cheater I’m not. I know he fucked you up, but I’m not him. You’re everything I want, the only woman I want to fuck, love, or touch. I can’t take this shit, Lana. You promised and you let me down.” Her face looks pained as I leave, my words striking a nerve in her. I can’t force her to love me. She can either take us or leave it, I won’t force her anymore.
Setting up camp, I lie on the couch throwing the blanket over my legs, leaving my chest exposed. I toss my arm over my eyes in complete defeat.
I’m tired of it. We fight, we make love, then we fight some more. For someone so afraid of abuse, she sure knows how to string out emotional abuse. Letting me in and then pushing me away just as fast. That’s what it feels like to me at least. I’m a smug, selfish asshole and she’s a stubborn pain in my ass. I really fucking hate that I can’t pick who I love. But if we don’t figure out what we’re going to do, it’s going to burn us down to a pile of ashes.
“Baby.” I hear her soft, reserved voice crackle through the air. Moving my arm, I look up and see her standing in the frame of the hallway. She looks so fucking broken, just as much as me. We both know this shit isn’t good. We’re both tired of the fighting, the giving in. I wave that damn white flag. She promised to try and I promised to be patient. Being a man of my word, I hold up my end of the deal. “Yeah, baby?” I sit up, swinging my legs off the couch and planting my feet on the floor. I hold out my hand for her. Walking toward me, Lana moves slowly, reservation in her every step.
“I know you’d never cheat. I just...” She pauses, stopping to stand right in front of me. I lean forward and wrap my arms around her waist, placing my hands on the back of her bare thighs, her warm skin heating me up. “I’m insecure with myself. I’m pregnant and I know that means I’m going to get bigger. Joel told me I was fat in high school and I was smaller than I am now.” I shake my head, her little whimpers causing that bottomless ache in my fucking chest to hollow out.
“Now that I’m pregnant, that’s going to be worse. I won’t be tight and thin forever.” My hands tighten, gripping her thighs hard. He called her fucking fat? Is that a joke?
“First off, fuck him. Don’t let what he told you mean anything. He called you fat because he knew it would make you insecure and you would doubt your worth. You have never been fat.” My words echo, sounding angry because I am.
“Second, you’re concerned I’d cheat over the changes your bodies gonna make while growing our child? What kind of man would that make me to do something like that? Huh?” She shrugs, dropping her face and fixating on the floor.
A driving passion to heal her and hush her demons fuels my next proclamation. “You think I don’t find you fucking irresistible all the time? I’m a fucking animal baby, my instincts to mate and claim you aren’t like other men. I need to mark you with me and the best way to do so is with our child. Nothing turns me on more than knowing that even when I’m not with you, men will see my mark on you. My baby inside you, growing strong and healthy every day.” I lift her shirt just enough to expose her skimpy thong and tight stomach, she still has abs above her tiny baby bump.
I see so many changes in her already. She glows more, her skin even more fucking soft than before, her arousal more mouthwatering. I could smell her from across the room. Like a lion smells his lioness when she’s ready to mate. Her soft honey brown eyes kill me as they begin to hood with desire.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you, ever. I’m way too fucking desperate for you. I don’t even see other women, and when I do, I compare them to you. Thinking to myself they got the shitty end of the stick because they don’t have shit on the Queen—my Queen.”
She thinks calling me a cheater riles me up, she should see what it does when she calls my desire for her a bluff.
“Kingston, you can’t say that, that’s dangerous,” she moans, biting her lip and honing in on me.
“My love for you is dangerous.”
She waits a moment, touching me with her hands, watching me with her eyes.
“I had a nightmare last night...that’s what triggered this.” She plays with my messy hair.
“What happened?” I ask, kissing her extended stomach right where our life is growing. I massage the back of her thighs to help relax her, easing her into it.
“Joel cheated on me all the time. All the time. And I gave him sex regularly, even though I didn’t want to. But he still cheated.” Mentioning sex with another man does nothing to calm me down. I have to force myself with great effort to stay calm and let her finish. Lana is communicating, that’s a big step, my caveman ways will have to slide onto a back burner.
“I’m sorry, but Lana, that isn’t me and what he did wasn’t because of you. He was sick, beautiful. Sick.” Men like Joel are mentally unstable, unable to love and unable to accept love. They want complete power, power over things they have no right to have.
“It’s okay, I just couldn’t imagine you cheating on me. I thought it hurt when he did it, and I didn’t love him the way I love you, Kingston. If you cheated on me, I would be devastated—reduced to nothing.” My eyes fly up and I almost fall backward from my abrupt movement.
“Did you just say you love me?” I ask, blinking rapidly, my hands still wrapped
around her thighs, her body still between my spread legs.
“Yes, I did. This is the part where you say ‘I love you’ back. Don’t leave me hanging.” She chuckles. Shit, I’m shell shocked. I don’t even know if I can formulate a coherent sentence. She said she loves me, this time all on her own free will.
Sliding my hands up her shirt and over the curve of her spine, I pull her onto my lap. She complies effortlessly, straddling me. Reaching up I cup her angelic face.
“I love you so fucking much Lana James. I will love you, forever.” Bringing my lips to hers, they meet with a force of passion. Tilting my head to get as deep into the kiss as I can, she laps at my tongue. My hands roam back down her back and move around to the front of her stomach. I keep kissing her with a heated fever, biting her lip every time I turn my head. She moans into each pull of her bottom lip. My hands play on her belly, my fingers barely touching her while they draw tiny circles. I feel her abs tighten while she grinds against my erection.
I make it just under her breasts and stop, aching to touch them but respecting her enough to stop. Her chest drops making her spine curl out and her kiss deepen.
“Touch them, take my shirt off and touch me,” she breaths out before lifting her arms. I look up at her, checking to make sure I didn’t just hear what I wanted, confirming she’s really giving me permission to do this.
“Really?” She nods biting the curve of her lip, giving me the keys to fucking heaven. My hands start fucking shaking. Holy shit. I, Kingston Donovan, am nervous.
Giving my man card a go, I buck up, my hands moving to the hem of her shirt. I lift my shirt off of her with shaking hands and the second it clears her body my cock hardens more than it already is and my heart lurches, fucking quits beating.
Her small tits look incredible, her pink nipples begging to be licked. I’m eyeing the suppleness of her chest when a ragged scar down the side of her left breast catches my attention. I slide my index finger down it gently and she hisses. Reaching up with her hands she covers her chest, shielding her perfect breasts from me. The second I saw the scar I knew immediately it wasn’t a scar from an accident, that shit was purposely put there. I growl pulling her hands away from her chest.