by Jenny Wood
“Not sure fair is the right word, baby; she accosted you in a department store for babies.” I remind him, and he seems to think that over.
“Please, just tell her to leave me alone. Okay?” He asks, hopefully. I agree and kiss his ice cream flavored lips.
“Alright, y’all go on and finish your shopping or whatever it is you were going to do. I’ll see you at home.” I say, walking away.
“Your home or my home?” He yells before I make it back to the car.
“Mine.” I clarify, not even realizing that I’d phrased it that way. I didn’t care where we stayed tonight as long as I got to curl up with him when I fell asleep, I didn’t care whose bed it was. They both were “ours.”
I watched him, and the guys walk back into the store before opening the back of my patrol car and helping the woman out. She’d lost her steam and was pouting like the child she was acting like.
“Mr. Wells has agreed not to press charges if you agree to no further contact. That means, no rampages in public places or nasty, hateful, despicable words; no letters under doorways and most certainly no more artwork in one’s home. Do I make myself clear or do I need to get it in writing after I take your fingerprints and throw your ass in front of a judge?” I ask, meaning every word. She looks downright terrified and more than a little guilty now, but she squeaks and nods at first then shakes her head. Unsure of which question to answer, but I think we’re on the same page.
“I’m done. I’ll go.” She promised, and I told her to make sure she did. I uncuffed her and watched her walk swiftly to her car. Hopefully, that was the end of that.
Foster
“Ride me,” Wade says after flipping us over and sitting up with his back against the headboard of his bed. His arms were wrapped around me but helped me as I bounced up and down on his cock. This was new, and I loved it.
“Fuck, baby” He groans, unfolding his hold on me and clutching my hips in his rough, calloused hands. I was going to have bruises tomorrow, and I wanted them. I loved the evidence of his loss of control. I loved seeing the beard burn or the teeth marks on my skin. I loved feeling used and sore the next day, so I could remember where he’d been and what we’d done. Bliss, I was promised it once, and it was never delivered. With Wade, every time is the best time.
“Wade,” I whisper on a downward glide and grind. His eyes pop open, and I drop my forehead to his, his mouth is open, and his eyes are drowsy, and I can see how good I feel to him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’,” I tell him, taking his face in my hands as I slide back and forth on him. I clench my muscles around him, causing him to hiss and me to shiver. Every time I slide back, he bumps my prostate, and I do it over and over again.
“Tell me.” He pleads, gazing into my eyes with everything I’m feeling. He knows, he has to know. I must take too long because he reaches up and grabs a fist full of my hair and pulls my head back just slightly, so I’ll feel the sting of it, and he’ll have my attention. He feels so good that I almost forgot I wanted to tell him something.
“I want, I wanna tell you something.” My breath hitches and I sigh.
“Tell me, baby.” He encourages, matching my rhythm and pulling me into him as I continue my grinding.
“I love you,” I whisper, afraid to finally say it, even though I’ve been thinking it and feeling it for weeks. His hands get tighter on me, and his thrusts become uneven. He flips us back over and growls as he lifts my leg to his shoulder and starts to pound into me. I think I scream, or at least I try to; the overwhelming, pleasured pain is too much to handle, I feel it too much.
“Fuck, Foster. Say it again.” He demands. I want to, I really want to say it again, especially if this is the result; but nothing’s working, it feels like my lungs have seized up. I feel everything times ten, and it’s too much.
“Oh,” Is what comes out in a deliciously pained whimper.
“Say it, Foster. I’m gonna come.” His thrusts are punishing, and I need it.
“I love you,” I repeat.
“Fuck!” He yells, slamming impossibly harder into me.
“I love you; I love you, I love you.” I chant as he loses control on my body. His hand leaves my hip and grabs my dick, stroking me at his feverish pace. Everything explodes at once, and the white behind my eyes is blinding, I think I might die.
“Fuck, baby, I’m coming. Fuck, Foster, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’s chanting above me, his body coming down on mine as he buries his face in my neck and explodes. I wish I were feeling him empty inside me, but we’ve not talked about that yet. It might sound stupid, given my history of the subject, but I wanted it. I wanted to feel him inside me and know that I’d had him inside me.
I couldn’t breathe, but I needed him to stay on me. I was feeling vulnerable and a little exposed after my confession, and even though I didn’t regret it, I wasn’t quite ready to face it, that I’d said it out loud. Feeling it and acknowledging it is one thing, sharing it is a whole lot scarier.
“You love me?” Wade pulls back, not letting me hide. His eyes are clear and knowing, but his face is impossible to read. I can’t find the smirk that I love or any indication that he’s not going to run away screaming as soon as he disengages from my body.
“Foster, you love me?” He asks again, and again, gives nothing away. I only nod, unable to form a word or even a breath. He closes his eyes, and for a second I think I fucked up. His brows crease, and he shakes his head, just slightly. Barely noticeable, but I notice. I think I fucked up until his big hands grip my face and his tongue plunders my mouth. It’s the most delicious kiss I’ve ever experienced, and it has my body jolting with aftershocks of my orgasm, my weeping dick trying to regain its life so it can get more of what Wade’s offering.
“I love you, too.” He says, the second his lips are free. “I love you, too.” He says again, and then he beams.
Falling asleep that night, had never been easier. I was never cold with Wade, and I slept wherever he pinned me. No longer did I curl up in a ball for protection or warmth, I didn’t need to. I wasn’t for sure where my future was headed, but I had an amazing job; almost my dream job. I had amazing friends, more than I could handle at times and I had the most perfect, for me, a boyfriend who loved me despite who I was or where I’d come from. I slept undisturbed with the realization that I’d get to do this again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. For someone who had virtually nothing, not so long ago… I had absolutely everything, now and I couldn’t be happier.
~Bonus~
“NO!” I screamed dramatically into my pillow, “Turn it off!”
“Baby, stop,” Wade grumbled into my neck, pulling me, as he liked to do, into his body.
“Shut off the alarm; it’s Sunday! We sleep in on Sundays; you said we could!” I whine, trying to get away to find solstice under my pillow. He wasn’t having it; he didn’t budge.
“It’s not the alarm; it’s your phone.” He tells me, letting me loose, but only a little. I couldn’t get very far.
“Why does it sound like an alarm? Do you hate me?” I kicked at the covers to try to release myself from its hold.
“What time is it?” He grumbles, not feeling so chipper this morning, eh? Mornings suck, I wanted to reiterate that, but I needed to find my phone, so I could destroy it.
“It’s still dark.” I freeze, having a thought just before springing out of bed like my gorgeous, erroneous boyfriend does most mornings. “Oh, shit.” I fumble with the phone in the dark.
Conner: The babies are coming!
Cameron: The babies are coming!!!!!!
Jase: Oh-Em-Gee, the babies are coming!
Jay: Everyone’s telling me they already texted you, but I don’t like being left out. The babies are coming!!!
“What is it?” Wade sits up, anxiously, waiting to see who’s bothering us at 2:13 in the morning.
“It’s time. The babies are coming!” I beam and run to the closet. I’ve waited my whole life for a life-like this one. I’m not
missing it for a second.
The End…
(For now)
©Jenny Wood 8.16.17
Coming up next: Kingsley and Morgan get some babies!
Stay tuned for a scene from book one that started it all! Kayson.
Kayson (Kennedy Ink.)
Prologue: Conner
The weather is terrible today; the rain clouds are casting a shadowed gloom over the small block of independently owned businesses that my bookstore sits in the middle of. I have a sweet little lady in the building beside me who sells her homemade, purely organic bath products. She has shampoo’s, conditioners, bath bombs, moisturizers, lotions and a handful of other things that leave a sweet smelling, honeyed aroma throughout our small block. Although it smells amazing, the building to the left of me is a small, family-owned deli that makes the most delicious soups and sandwiches. Between their hot chocolate and “Bett’s Naturals’”, sugary smells; every time I walk through these doors, my brain convinces me I’m just on this side of starving; which is why I’m so distracted today I think.
Directly across from the deli is an intimate little music store where Jetson Jacks, sells CDs, concert DVDs, vintage vinyl and the walls are even lined with used guitars and all different types of musical instruments that people stop in and jam with from time to time.
In the spring, I can hear the classic rock music that Jetson of “Jetson Jacks Music” plays for the block. He used to be in a band in his glory days and wants to live out the rest of his life with other people who enjoy the music like he does. I’ve only been in there a handful of times since moving into my building a year a half ago; I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, never mind attempt to play an instrument, but he’s really funny and his store is really neat, even I could admit, it’s a fun place to hang out.
Directly across from Betts; (whose name is Betsy Valentine-seriously, how adorable is that?), is a small, art gallery, where semi-famous hometown artist, Camden Robert Ross, teaches his art classes. I call him “Cob Ross” and I think he hates me just a little bit for it, but only because he swears he’s actually better than the actual Bob Ross…He isn’t, but he’s almost, just as good. They do pottery, group paintings, sculptures and every few months; he holds a charity function to donate to our children’s home here in town.
Our whole block is lined with little shops like ours; antiques, eateries, clothing stores, thrift shops, flower shops and even a “Wiccan Spells” shop.” I’ve never been in there, personally, but I’ve heard some really interesting things. The lady who owns it, Wendy, (Yes, her name is Wendy, and she’s a witch who was born on Halloween- coincidence? I think not! Talk about a pre-destined calling in life.) She’s incredibly sweet, and she’s married to a local computer repairman that I’ve had to hire more than a handful of times since I started renting tablets out by the week or if you had a “Hideout” card, you could check them out for any amount of time up to a week. We’re a nice little community on this side of our small little hick town that’s home to about nine hundred people; and everyone- Wendy included- is just a part of our family over here on our small block.
Now, what is directly across the narrow, two-lane street of my shop, you may wonder? That would be the recently renovated and newly opened tattoo shop; “Kennedy Brother’s Ink”- owned and operated by Kayson and Kingsley Kennedy. I’ve yet to actually meet either one of them, but that doesn’t stop me from peering into their glass fronted windows from time to time... Okay, slightly more than from time to time but not in a weird way… Okay, well not in a completely, stalkerish, weird way.
They usually come in around ten in the morning and stay open until well after ten in the evening; they have a couple of others who work there, piercers and whatever other kinds of people who might work in a tattoo parlor. Do they call them parlors anymore? That seems old-fashioned, even to me and I’m the definition of old-fashioned.
Me? I’m Conner Allen, and I own this bookstore/makeshift library.
While it’s true that I inherited it from my grandma who left it to me when she retired; it was basically my refuge growing up. I’d probably be doing the same exact thing, even if she hadn’t left it to me; but I’m forever grateful that she did. I hope I’m making her proud, because I’ve switched things up a bit, since making some renovations myself. We do buy, sell and trade but we also have a monthly membership where you can check out as many books as you’d like as long as they came back or you renewed them at the end of every week. I’ve been turning a pretty decent profit since taking over several years ago. I had to take a few business courses that weren’t much fun, but, someone had to learn the books when Nan got sick and I’m thankful that I did now. I was content with my small little house in my small little neighborhood. I loved it here in Madison, Georgia. It was country living at its finest and before Kennedy Brother’s Ink. opened up their shop right across the street; I’d never in my twenty-six years of living here, ever seen a tattoo shop/parlor. I wondered what made them come to our small town and settle here.
I didn’t know much about them yet, which was odd because in a town like ours; people liked to talk. I’m sure there are folks around here that know their entire life stories, but none that I had come across yet. It wasn’t really my business and I didn’t like to entertain idle gossip, but I have to admit I was curious as hell about them. All of them, sure, but Kayson Kennedy especially.
While it’s also true that Madison, isn’t the friendliest of the gay-friendly towns; or even state, I’d lived in this town my whole life; as did my mama, her mama and her mama’s, mama. They used to joke that hiding me in the closet would never work because I’d bust out in all their heels and give myself away. I didn’t get it back then, but I guess looking back, it just was what it was. I never thought to hide it because everyone had known it, before I did, even. It helped that I lived with my Mama and Nanny my whole life. My father was killed in a gas station robbery when I was just a couple of months old, so my Mamma sold our house across town and we moved in with Nanny. Mama still lives in that same ol’ house but I’d moved out years ago. I did still visit a lot because it was just us now; no one else. Mama never remarried or even dated anyone after losing my dad; meaning, she never had any more kids; no matter how much I begged in middle school for a little brother or sister. It never happened and we lost Nanny last summer to pneumonia, so; just us.
I figured I’d be getting a lot of business over this way the next couple weeks; I was in the business of buying and selling books, so I knew that the kids from the college would be coming over here to get some cash for their useless textbooks now that the semester was over. I did, as I mentioned, buy, sell or trade and whatever books I’d get at the end of a semester, someone would surely buy them at the beginning of the next one. It happened every term. As long as they were in good shape, I wasn’t picky. I had a little bit of everything in here; from textbooks to romances to murder mystery to gossip mags; it didn’t matter; there was a little somethin’ for everybody.
I also had three employees’; Craig, Denny, and Claire, because not only did we have books for just about anyone, we also had a coffee station where people could come in, have some coffee and read or work on their computer’s. It stayed pretty quiet in here/unless it was Tuesday nights, that’s when we had kids’ night, where someone (usually Claire) read for the kids. All of my employees were younger than my twenty-six years old and worked between going to school and hanging out with their friends. I didn’t have many friends, partly because I was uncomfortably shy, but also partly because I was always in here. Craig, Denny, and Claire all rotated days of the week to share a shift with me; and twice during that week I had the day off and they worked together. Mostly, though, I was always here and worked with one of them from open to close. I was only open from 9-5, so it wasn’t like I never got any free time; just when I did, I preferred to go home and read or watch TV, instead of going to one of the bars in town, the pool hall or the one movie theater we have here in small-town, Madison.<
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Buying one ticket to see a movie by yourself was embarrassing, especially on a weekend. I’d made that mistake once before; never again. Jade Gentry and his shadow puppets sat behind me and acted like high-school kids, kicking my seat and throwing popcorn and slinging slurs about being the only gay man in town- the whole time.
I can’t say it didn’t bother me, much, like it did when he’d done it back in high-school but I also can’t say it was as bad. I knew his wife and two kids had left him last year and moved to Stonebrook to get away from his drinking and staying out all night. I’d heard that through the grapevine and I knew that he was miserable without her but instead of fighting to get her back, he just stewed in his misery and tried to make everyone else that way too. Hence, I never stepped foot back in that movie theater and didn’t plan on changing it anytime soon. I was content getting to talk to the people here in town that would come through my store. They were friendly enough and my employees were friendly enough that I’d call them friends. So, I wasn’t lonely; not really. Not until I went home at the end of every night and had no one to talk to but my cat; Pickles. Only then did I feel a little bit of the loneliness creeping in.
It was a slow day today; Monday’s usually were, until around three, when kids got out of school. Then, instead of going to the deli/café next door or the park when it was warm; most of the high school and community college kids came here to study. That was another reason business was as good as it was. Our little town didn’t have a library closer than 20 miles away so this was it, as far as a quiet place to study went; and even though I had three desktop computers that could be rented out for two hours at a time, (unless no one else was in line, then I was pretty lenient about it), but still, this was as close to a library as a lot of these kids got.
“Good morning, Conner” Betsy came in around ten. Although there was a deli right next door; nobody beat our fancy coffee.