Ain't Doin' It

by Lani Lynn Vale

  The moment I felt her tighten around me, I didn’t hold off any longer.

  I came hard inside of her.

  “Oh, God. That feels so good,” she moaned, arching her back.

  I lifted up on my hands and stared down her body as her hips swiveled.

  Her tiny baby bump lifted with the movement, and if I hadn’t already come, just the sight of her ripening with my baby would’ve been enough to set me off.

  God, I adored this woman and her body—even more so now that my baby was growing inside of her.

  It hadn’t been an easy three months.

  Not with the mood swings, and constant worry that she was going to be a horrible mother to our child.

  But the three-month mark, it was like a light switch that controlled those chaotic emotions had turned off in her brain, and all of a sudden, things were just…normal.

  One day, she woke up, and she was perfectly content in herself, and ever since, we’d spent our time waiting for her to revert back, but she hadn’t yet.

  And hopefully, that meant for good.

  I’d read and studied up on her disease, and they did say that once she felt stable, that sometimes, the cyclothymia would just resolve itself. Maybe it had just run its course since there was no known cure.

  We didn’t know. The doctors didn’t know. Nobody knew…and we were counting that as a win. Though we did feel like we were holding our breath waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Here was to hoping it stayed gone.

  Beatrice was doing her level best to make Cora feel anything but settled.

  After finding out that Cora was pregnant with my child, Beatrice had lost her shit.

  She was now a permanent resident of a penitentiary that specialized in the intense cases where the occupants also suffered from a mental disorder.

  The penitentiary had helped her kick her drug habit, had found her a psychiatrist, and had told her that she wouldn’t be leaving for a very long time.

  Cora, after coming out of her panic attack, had found out that she was pregnant, and had been in a state of shock right along with me for at least a month as we all tried to come to terms with what was now our lives.

  But, overall, we were both quite happy—even if we were both scared shitless.

  I’d asked her to marry me a month ago, and our wedding would take place the moment that Cora’s brother was able to come home from BUD/s training.

  Luca hadn’t wanted to leave, but Cora had urged him to follow his dream.

  And none of us had missed the way he’d looked at Frankie as he’d packed his shit and left.

  Frankie hadn’t been the same since he’d left, either.

  She was more withdrawn, and a whole lot more cautious.

  She was now attending community college and was living back at my house while I’d moved in with Cora.

  She was really shaken about the turn her mother had taken—and I couldn’t say that we all didn’t feel the same.

  How we’d all missed Beatrice’s drug problem was beyond me.

  In her need to get her hands on more money, she’d practically sold her daughter to a man to pay off her debts.

  After everyone had met for a discussion and added everything they knew, Beatrice was questioned, and she confessed to everything.

  Planting bomb materials in Cora’s car in the hopes of distracting me from what she was trying to accomplish—selling our daughter to cover her drug habit. Oh, and let’s not forget everything else she’d confessed in her crazy tirade in the hospital three months ago.

  Needless to say, she wasn’t missed.

  Cora’s fingers trailed down along my chest where I’d been impaled by the gear shifter.

  “No panic attacks today,” she murmured.

  “No,” I agreed. “You’re doing better.”

  One day, Cora would be free of those panic attacks that’d been brought on when she killed that man, but today, and likely tomorrow, wouldn’t be that day.

  We’d take our lives together one step at a time, and eventually we’d fight those demons together.

  In the meantime, I was happy to be there for her just as she was thankful to be there for me.

  I’d found something special in my neighbor, and I would thank every single star in the sky for being handed such a gift.

  “Now, I think you better get off me. I’m about to throw up.”

  I moved like lightning, and she did indeed throw up.

  But, unlike Beatrice’s pregnancy, I was there for every step of Cora’s.

  Every puke, hiccup, and nap included.

  Epilogue

  I was going to go outside, but I noticed that my neighbor was out.

  -Text from Cora to Janie

  Cora

  “She what?!” Coke seethed. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  He jerked forward and reached for the first shirt he saw, which happened to be mine.

  “Coke,” I stilled him. “That’s my shirt.”

  He dropped it and started to the closet.

  “Coke,” I followed behind him. “You need to calm down.”

  “Calm down?” He laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, fuckin’ right. The man that I trusted with my daughter slept with her. My baby. I’ll kill him.”

  I would’ve laughed. Really, I would have. But I couldn’t. Not with him this upset.

  Coke shot me a disgusted look. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a problem with that in the beginning.”

  He was right. I had.

  “I also admit when I’m wrong,” I told him carefully. “Coke.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, take a step back and think about this before you go and do anything half-cocked.”

  “Give me one fuckin’ reason that I can’t go knock his teeth in right this fucking second,” he growled.

  “I’ll give you two,” I countered.

  He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to enlighten him.

  “One, you don’t know where he is.”

  Coke frowned.

  He knew I was right.

  “And two?” he snarled, still extremely pissed.

  “Two, he didn’t mean to pick up and leave. He had no choice. He’s a SEAL now. He has no choice but to leave when he’s called out.”

  Coke dropped his head and then stared down at the floor.

  “I know you’re right, but my chest fucking hurts thinking about this,” he hissed.

  “Honey, your daughter is a big girl. Do you really think she’s going to stay your baby forever?” I whispered, putting my arm on his shoulder.

  He looked up, devastation clearly written in his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said. “I did.”

  I smiled at him sadly. “Luca will be back.”

  “Luca is a goddamn moron.” Coke shook his head, his hands going to his hair.

  His beautiful graying hair that I wanted to run my fingers through and pull his face down to mine. Kiss him until we both couldn’t breathe.

  But, this needed to be dealt with. Coke and I had been circling around this conversation for a very long time.

  He’d been denying it long enough.

  “I don’t fucking like Luca,” he finally snapped.

  I shook my head. “Nobody likes the man that takes their daughter’s virginity, honey.”

  “Well, I don’t think this is going to end well, and I honestly can’t say that I even like the guy all that much.”

  I wouldn’t bring up the fact that Luca was my brother, and he would rather saw off his own leg than hurt Frankie.

  But, Coke wasn’t in a great state of mind…especially with the way the two had left each other the night before.

  “I’d almost rather that loser Calen that she met at school than Luca,” Coke muttered, finally looking at me. “At least then she’d have someone here, and not someone who’s off risking life and limb.”

  I walked into Coke’s arms and then rested
my head on his chest.

  His heart was thundering.

  “Coke…” I breathed, pressing my lips to his chest. “Come to bed.”

  He growled and bent, hooking both arms underneath my ass, picking me up as if I weighed nothing.

  “Coke!” I giggled. “Put me down!”

  He did. On the bed.

  I hit with a bounce and started to roll off, but he caught me before I could get too far.

  “Nuh-uh,” he growled. “I have anger to work out.”

  “So, we get to have angry sex?” I asked hopefully.

  “This isn’t like our makeup sex. This is like our ‘I’m home from a bad day at work’ sex, only worse. I need you. I need to forget that I have obligations. And the only way to do that is when I’m inside you.”

  I grinned and widened my thighs. I was never one to deny my husband a thing. Never had, and never would.

  I wasn’t a stupid woman.

  Coke was still just as beautiful as the day I’d met him. And the sex that had been so explosive in the beginning? Still amazing and just as explosive as the day we’d crossed that line.

  Our days of having sex anywhere and everywhere were gone now that we had children afoot, but we did have a sex swing in our bedroom.

  Which, I realized, was where this was headed.

  When Coke wanted to take me rough, we normally tried to keep it off the bed.

  There was only so much soundproofing and prevention that a couple could do. Eventually their children would find out that they were sexual creatures.

  But, we kept it as quiet as possible, and we ignored everything else.

  “Swing?” I pleaded.

  He winked. “Swing.”

  Coke got up off of me and shucked his pants as he walked into the closet.

  He came back out fully naked, and my eyes automatically went to his cock.

  Coke reached up above our bureau and pulled the leather swing down off of the top, and then walked to the middle of the room where one large, but discreet metal anchor hung beside our ceiling fan.

  With deft, sure movements, he fastened the D-ring onto the hook and let the swing drop. The two pieces of metal at the top of the chain rattled together, causing my nipples to pebble.

  That sound, paired with the way Coke’s lean, muscular body rippled with anticipation, had me shivering in preparation.

  Oh, and need. Lots and lots of need.

  I shifted on the bed, anticipation coursing through my veins, and caught Coke’s eyes.

  His gaze was hot and intense, and I licked my lips.

  “I feel like you’re about to eat me alive when you look at me like that,” I whispered.

  He crossed the rest of the distance to me, and then wrapped his large hand around my ankle, giving me a tug to the end of the bed.

  Once my legs were hanging off, he reached forward and hooked both sets of fingers around the waistband of my stretchy pants, and yanked them off, panties and all.

  I didn’t bother closing my legs.

  I’d long ago lost that need for privacy.

  I didn’t know if it was due to my husband and his intense desire for me making my confidence so high or what, but I didn’t need to hide.

  He knew about my stretch marks. He knew about my pale thighs. He liked my round hips and squishy ass, and he especially enjoyed watching them jiggle when he took me.

  Consequently, I wasn’t self-conscious. Not when Coke never missed an opportunity to show me how much he adored my body.

  “Back or belly?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  I took it and found myself standing.

  “How do you want me?” I questioned right back.

  His gaze went devilish, then he pushed me forward until I was standing straight in front of the swing, facing it.

  “Shirt,” he ordered.

  I took it off and threw it in the direction of the hamper, missing it by at least six feet.

  He chuckled and ran his hands up my naked hips, curving around my front once he reached my ribs, and cupped my breasts.

  They sagged more than they once did thanks to two children in two years, but you wouldn’t think that was the case with the way Coke loved them so.

  “Hop up.” He squeezed my nipple.

  We both moved as one as I climbed into the swing, knowing from experience that this took more concentration than driving a car.

  We’d learned that the hard way. We’d tried to be slick and move into the swing more hastily than we probably should have the first time and had promptly flipped right out the other side.

  He’d landed on me, and I’d nearly died—not literally. But it felt like it at the time.

  Then our children had come pounding on the door wanting to know if we were okay.

  Lesson learned.

  Once I was in position, he moved the foot straps around my ankles, and then pulled a strap up by his head that widened them.

  I shivered in anticipation, causing my breasts to jiggle against the cool leather that they were hanging between.

  The placement of my breasts was slightly uncomfortable…for now. But I knew from experience that the discomfort would be the last thing on my mind when Coke started touching me.

  Which he did moments later.

  “I love this ass,” he said, squeezing first one cheek, and then the other.

  I licked my lips and let my head fall, my hair brushing the floor as it unfurled from the messy bun I’d hastily put it in after my shower.

  Then he got down on his knees and did the only thing I still blushed over—licked me.

  I don’t know why, but the act of him down on his knees, licking me there…it still got me. It still made me pink in the cheeks, and I still squirmed.

  I wondered idly if I’d ever get over my embarrassment. I’d been with this man for a very long time. He’d seen things, and I’d done things, that I would’ve died over had it happened in the beginning of our relationship.

  Like the time that I broke not just one arm, but both arms and he’d had to do everything for me. Everything. Put my tampons in for me. Wipe my ass. Shave my legs.

  Seriously, there wasn’t a single thing sacred after that debacle.

  I still remembered that day like it was yesterday—our first day home after that had happened.

  ***

  The dawning dismay that I had to go to the bathroom hit me, and I looked at my husband in horror.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I told him.

  “Then go.”

  “I can’t wipe,” I gestured to my arms, that were stuck straight out like a mummy’s.

  I’d stupidly tried to run after a kid and had fallen hard on the steps of a church. I’d broken my fall with my face and arms. My face striking the top step, and both of my arms pinned at my side due to a jacket I’d been trying to put on at the time, I had hit the step at almost the same angle. I’d broken the humerus in both my left and my right arm.

  Now I was cast with long poles holding my arms straight out, and I was staring at my husband who was just now realizing what this meant for us.

  “I’m going to have to take like six weeks off,” he finally said.

  I swallowed and nodded. “Three, actually. But that’s just as bad.”

  He walked up to me and hooked me around the waist. “Let’s go do this.”

  “You can help me take my pants off and leave me there while I do it…I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  He winked. “I’m but your humble ass wiping servant.”

  I would’ve smacked him if I could physically accomplish it.

  ***

  Those three weeks while I’d been in those hard casts had been the most embarrassing and enlightening of my life. I truly understood the meaning behind the ‘in sickness and in health’ vow of our nuptials.

  “Cora,” Coke drawled, drawing me out of my head. “Where’s your head at?”

  Where
my head was at was not in the present. Why? Because now he was nibbling on my pussy lips, making me blush and squirm and swear.

  There were way more embarrassing things that had happened, too.

  Then there was the time that I had to have a hysterectomy because of a few suspicious tumors that were growing on my fallopian tubes and uterus. He’d had to help me clean—down there—because I literally felt like crap. After getting out of the hospital from my total hysterectomy, I’d gotten a fever. That fever had rendered me an invalid.

  He’d had to carry me to the bathroom and help me use it.

  “Baby…” Coke said, nipping my folds. “You’re not participating.”

  No, but I sure was now.

  That nip had my entire body jolting.

  “Get out of your head and feel me.”

  Then he pressed his mouth to my clit, and I felt his beard hairs tickle my pussy as he started to devour me.

  Coke was thorough. He made sure to taste, nip, suck, and lick every single part of my pussy, leaving not one single hole or protrusion unloved.

  By the time he’d brought me to the brink of orgasm over four times, he’d finally taken pity on me and shifted.

  His mouth found my thigh, and he rubbed his face clean on it, causing me to groan.

  I was soaked.

  He always made me that way.

  “Coke,” I breathed.

  “Yeah?” he teased, pressing himself against me more fully.

  “Stop teasing me. The circulation is being cut off to my tits.”

  He huffed out a laugh, and I felt him position himself at my entrance. Moments later he was pushing himself inside, and I was thinking that there really was no better place in the world than right there, right then, with my husband.

  Nowhere.

  ***

  She brought disorder where there shouldn’t be. She said something where there should be nothing but silence. She moved when she should sit still.

  Yet…none of that mattered to me. I loved her with every single breath I took, more and more, until one day I feared that I would implode with it.

  She’d given me something I could never repay her for—love and acceptance.

  Where my first marriage was all about my wife, this marriage was the partnership it always should have been.

  And it was easy loving her.

  Easy, fun, and freeing.