“I love your sweet pussy,” I tell her, squeezing her clit between my two fingers. “It feels so wet and tight.”
“Oh, my God,” she says, leaning back to look at me. “You’re amazing.”
With one of my hands I keep playing with her clit and with the other I take ahold of her hair and gently pull on it, making sure her eyes stay locked on me. Her tongue licks her lower lip while she writhes around on my cock.
“I’m coming,” she says, and I start patting her pussy, spanking it ever so lightly with my hand. “Jensen, Jensen, Jensen.”
I feel her warm juices spill out onto my cock and into the palm of my hand. I rub the wetness all over my balls and her clit. Then she leans forward and begins riding my cock.
“Riley,” I say. “That feels so good. But you don’t have to…”
“Shhhhhh,” she says, rising and falling on my cock, moving her ass back and forth.
I can’t help but take her ass cheeks in my hands, spreading them wide, and putting my finger into her asshole.
“That feels so good,” she says, bouncing up and down on my cock as I thrust it in and out of her pussy hole.
“You have no idea,” I tell her, as I feel myself throbbing inside her clenched pussy.
“It kind of makes me feel like I’m bouncing around on a fitness ball,” she says. “Like a birth ball they showed us in our labor and delivery class. I think this is good practice for labor.”
We laugh, and the vibration on my cock makes it become even more engorged.
“Oooh, I felt that,” she says, moving up and down on me more. “That feels good.”
“You’re telling me. Now you’re going to make me come.”
“I’m gonna come with you,” she says. “You make me come so much.”
Then I’m thrusting and pumping my cock into her pussy while my finger plays with her asshole. And she’s panting hard, riding my cock, as I come into her. I shoot my load in her and she grips my thighs, saying, “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.”
I finish and expect her to collapse on me so I can hold her for a minute before we hurry to get dressed and find my mom. But instead, she says, “Ouch.”
“Ouch?” I ask her, as I help her off my lap.
“Ouch.” She bends over and holds her stomach. “I think that might have been a little too much like practice labor. It seems to have stimulated a contraction.”
“Well, the instructor did say that having sex could start labor,” I mention.
“Awww, you really do pay attention in class,” she says, straightening up but still rubbing her belly. “But they said that’s an induction tip, like if the baby is overdue. I still have a week left.”
“They also said a due date is just an estimate,” I tell her, and she smiles, obviously further impressed with all that I’ve learned in our labor and delivery class. “How do you feel now? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “I think I might have just pulled something, like a muscle in my stomach or something.”
“You were working hard,” I tell her. “Sorry if it was too much. But I’m really glad we got to do that.”
“Me too,” she says. “And I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” I tell her. “Let’s get dressed and call Harlow to make sure my mom is over there and then we can sit down and have a chat.”
“I’d love that,” she says, looking relieved.
But just as we’re starting to put our clothes back on, there’s a knock at the door.
“Oh no,” Riley says, practically jumping. “Your mom must be back.”
“At least we had time to finish,” I laugh.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to see that it’s not my mom, but Harlow and Whitney.
“Why hello,” I tell them, opening the door all the way. “Come in.”
“Hi guys,” Riley says, hugging them but looking as confused as I feel. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Is Mom with you?” I ask Harlow, peering around behind them.
“No,” he says. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”
I nod. It seems everyone has been concerned about Mom lately, myself included.
“Okay,” I say, pointing at the couch with a twinge of guilt, realizing it’s where Riley and I just made love, and hoping we didn’t leave any evidence— or bodily fluids— behind. “Sit down. Let’s chat.”
Chapter 7 – Riley
I follow Jensen and our two visitors over to the couch. My stomach still feels tight, and I don’t know if it’s contractions, Braxton Hicks, or nerves, since I sense that they came to talk about something serious. I make a mental note to call my doctor’s office in the morning to see if I should go in and be checked up.
“Jensen, I have to tell you something I hope you don’t hate me for,” Harlow says, clearing his throat.
I look back and forth from Harlow and Whitney but neither of their expressions give much away about the reason for their visit. Whitney’s face looks pale and worried. I think about what Monica said earlier and hope they’re not here to tell us they can’t have children.
That’s silly, I tell myself. Harlow specifically said he needed to talk about something else.
But my mind seemed incapable of thinking of anything except pregnancy and babies lately. I guess that is to be expected, under the circumstances. I shake my head, willing myself to pay attention.
“Okay sure,” Jensen says. “You know we don’t keep anything from each other. We’re a united front. Always.”
“Well, that’s why I think you might be mad at me,” Harlow says. “And you’d have every reason to be.”
Whitney nods, a flash of light in her eyes that clues me in on the fact that she’s the one who persuaded Harlow to come tell Jensen whatever it is he’s about to tell him.
“Right now, Mom’s at BAR NAME,” Harlow says quickly, and then immediately looks like he wants to pounce on Jensen, put his finger over his mouth so he can’t say anything. “Hear me out.”
“What the fuck is she doing at BAR NAME?” Jensen asks. “And why didn’t you make her leave?”
“Don’t worry,” Harlow says. “She’s with Larson. She’s safe.”
“Larson—” Jensen shakes his head back and forth, as if trying to understand and failing. “I was just with Larson. I was just at BAR NAME. I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought Mom was at your house. She ran out of here and we were just about to call you.”
“She ran out of here?” Now Harlow’s the one to look confused. “When? Why didn’t you—”
“Look,” I cut in, and Whitney nods again, as if encouraging me to step in. “There’s no need to fight. Let’s just calm down and take one thing at a time.”
“Good idea,” Whitney agrees.
I have to admit, I feel guilty for letting his mom leave earlier. But rationally I know no one should blame themselves or anyone else. There is nothing one can do to stop her once she sets her mind to something.
“Well, Larson called me from BAR NAME and said Mom showed up there, pretty belligerently trying to order a beer,” Harlow continues. “She refused to leave, and Jeff was going to call the cops before he realized… you know…”
He trails off and I know his unfinished sentence is that she was our mom.
“…that she was with Larson,” he finally finishes. “Larson told Jeff he could handle it.”
“How do you know all of this?” Jensen asks.
“Larson called me,” Harlow says.
“You?” Jensen looks crushed, and I can tell his train of thought is going something like this: After all this time, I let Mom live with us, and I support her, yet people call Harlow— my irresponsible little brother— when she’s in a jam?
“Jensen,” I say quietly, putting my hand on his leg. “I’m sure he just didn’t want to worry you, knowing you have a baby on the way.”
“That’s it exactly,” Harlow says. “He says you had j
ust left there, in a hurry to get home to see Riley. He didn’t want to bother you with this. And he…”
Harlow’s mouth clamps shut, as if he’s said too much. But Whitney’s looking at him expectantly, encouragingly, as if there’s more for him to tell us.
“He knew that I was having some issues with Mom,” Harlow finally finishes.
“What do you mean, issues with Mom?” Jensen asks. I take his hand and squeeze it, but he’s upset. “And why would you tell Larson but not me?”
“Well, honestly, there are a couple things I haven’t told you,” Harlow says. “And I don’t really know why. I guess I just wanted to be the caretaker for once. The one to handle things. But obviously I blew that.”
His cheeks are red, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him. I can understand where he’s coming from. Jensen has always been the peacemaker, Ramsey the protector, and Harlow, just the little troublemaker. Sure, he’d come a long way after his helicopter crash and Whitney had helped him get stronger and more mature. But he had probably seen this as a chance to prove himself, to show his brothers that he is finally a man and not just their kid brother.
“What exactly haven’t you told me?” Jensen asks.
I can tell he’s really mad but he’s trying to be gentle with Harlow. He must feel for him too.
“You know how Mom’s been coming over to our house a lot?” Harlow asks.
“Yeah…” Jensen says.
Whitney looks down at the floor, as if embarrassed.
“Well, a couple times, I caught her drinking,” he says.
“What!” Jensen explodes.
“I know,” Harlow says. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d hit the roof. You have enough on your plate to deal with. I was trying to handle it.”
“Harlow, the reason she goes to your house to drink is she knows that a condition of staying here is that she not drink,” Jensen says. “She was doing fine for a while. She was taking her meds, she was staying away from booze. What the hell?”
“I know,” Harlow says. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I haven’t wanted to tell you.”
Jensen huffs and then stands up, walking around as if trying to diffuse his anger. Whitney looks fearful, as if some irreparable riff had happened and couldn’t be repaired.
“It’s okay,” I tell them. “We’ll work this out.”
“I’m sorry,” Harlow tells Jensen. “Really. The first time, I told her that was it. If she did it again, I was telling you. Then she did it again. So I told her she wouldn’t be able to come over again. I feel really bad, because I think that’s why she went to the bar instead.”
He’s shaking a bit, as if he might throw up. I feel the exact same way, but I don’t know if it’s from emotions or pregnancy. My morning sickness had gone away during my second trimester. I shouldn’t be feeling nauseated right now. A searing pain gripped my stomach, radiating from one side to the other, but then it was over nearly as fast as it came, thank goodness.
“Look,” I say, trying to solve the problem at hand so that I can go take a bath and relax. “None of this is really that much of a surprise. The doctor said she might relapse. We have all known the risks. I’m guilty of hiding my own feelings, myself.”
At this, Jensen stops pacing and looks at me. Harlow and Whitney are also looking at me. I decide there’s no better time than the here and now to explain what I mean. Sure, in private with Jensen would be best, but apparently this is a family affair.
I start to realize that maybe Ramsey should be here, but, as if on cue, there’s a knock at the door.
Chapter 8 – Riley
“It’s open,” Jensen says, throwing his hands up in the air as if the whole world is just going to visit us tonight. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Ramsey says, their mother’s arm drooped over his shoulder. Her other arm is around Larson, who walks in behind them. “Got a special delivery for you.”
Their mom looks completely out of it, half asleep in a zombie state.
“She must have taken too many of her meds,” Harlow says. “Or maybe got a hold of some street drugs.”
Everyone shrugs. Either one is a good possibility with her, or perhaps both. I rack my brain to remember how she looked and smelled on the staircase. I wasn’t paying the best attention to her since I had been in the middle of doing something else. But it’s entirely possible she had been drunk, or high.
“Hi guys,” Monica says, her head appearing in the doorway before the rest of her followed. “James is with Susan. Sorry to be back here so soon.”
She nods at me, and I say, “It’s a good thing you guys are here. We were just… talking.”
“That’s always a good thing,” says Monica, winking at me. “I’m going to help them take her upstairs and then we can all sit down.”
“Okay,” I tell her.
Good old Monica. Always knowing when to give other people privacy.
“So, as I was saying,” I continue, as the four of them make their way up the stairs. I figure that Jensen’s mom is too far gone to hear or make sense out of anything we’re talking about. “I’ve been holding back some feelings about your mom.”
“So have I,” Jensen says, looking so grateful to be able to tell me.
“What?” I ask him, confused.
“I’ve been thinking we really should start listening to the doctor. And maybe take her to that home…”
His face falls as he says it, as if I’m going to mad.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I tell him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I know how you like taking care of her,” he says. “And I really do appreciate all your help. I don’t want you think we’ve failed. We’ve done the best we can but at this point…”
“I feel exactly the same way,” I tell him. “But I didn’t tell you because you always…”
I trail off, but Harlow picks up my sentence for me. “Want to rescue her.”
“Yes,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was thinking,” Jensen says. “It would have saved a lot of guesswork. And, truth be told, Harlow, I had my own suspicions she might be drinking again. That’s something I was holding back from telling everyone too because I didn’t want everyone to think I fucking failed. Or to hear everyone say ‘I told you so, Jensen…’,”
Harlow starts laughing and we all look at him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just that, all of us weren’t telling the others our true thoughts for that very same reason.”
All of us are laughing our asses off when Monica and Ramsey come back downstairs.
“What’d we miss?” Monica asks, as they sit down on our recliners. “Larson’s upstairs keeping watch on Mrs. Bradford, so she doesn’t try to run off again.”
“Oh, lots,” says Whitney.
Another pain grips my stomach, and I try not to squirm. I grit my teeth, not wanting to interrupt catching Ramsey and Monica up on things.
“You look good,” Monica says to Whitney, surprised.
“Um, thanks?” Whitney answers, looking at me with a cringed expression. We both laugh.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Monica says. “You’d just seemed really… down, lately, and I’m glad to see that it looks like you’re in better spirits.”
“Oh,” Whitney says, smiling. “I’m just really relieved that things have come out into the open.”
“What has?” Ramsey asks, obviously clueless.
“The long and short of it is that we’re going to put Mom in that home,” Jensen says.
“Finally!” Ramsey exclaims, nearly pumping his fist in the air. “I think this is a really good decision.”
“Yeah,” Monica says. “The last thing you need with a new baby on the way is to have to try to deal with someone so sick only doctors probably know how to deal with.”
She points upstairs.
“If they even know how,” Harlow adds.
�
�Guys, don’t be mean,” Jensen says, always the peacekeeper.
“We’re not,” Monica protests. “It’s true. She’s sick. She needs help above and beyond what we’re able to give her. You two certainly tried your best and it’s admirable.”
“I’m glad we can all be here together to deal with it,” Ramsey says. “Even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”
“Of course,” Jensen says. “That’s what we do. We’re brothers united, back when we were kids, when we were SEALs together, and now that we’re facing this crisis.”
“Brothers and their wives united,” Whitney jokes, and I start to laugh but abruptly stop.
I feel another pain— most definitely a contraction— coming on, and I grip my stomach. This time, I can’t help but stand up and bend over a little bit, trying to ease the pressure and catch my breath.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting back down after a minute. “This baby just keeps giving me these… practice contractions. Maybe strong Braxton Hicks or something.”
“Hmmm,” Monica says, a concerned look crossing her face. “That looked a lot stronger than Braxton Hicks.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” Jensen asks, rubbing my back.
“Yes,” I tell him, but I’m really not sure. I guess I’ll find out when I get another contraction.
“Okay,” says Harlow, nodding as if that’s that. “Now we just have to figure out a plan to get Mom to peacefully go to the home.”
“You mean as peacefully as possible,” Ramsey says. “Because there’s no way she’ll go without a fight.”
“I don’t know,” Jensen says, slightly shaking his head. “You guys haven’t been here most of the time she has been staying with us, until pretty recently.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “She was surprisingly peaceful. It was nice. And then this… relapse… or whatever.”
Suddenly I’m struck by a pain so strong I can barely breathe. It seems to grip my windpipe, my stomach, and even my thighs, and squeeze with all its might. At the same time, it seems to want to break my pelvis, because I feel tremendous pain down there as well.
Hold Onto Me_A Secret Baby Romance Page 69