by B. B. Hamel
I looked down at Mason and realized that the little guy was starting to fall asleep. He’d drift off and then wake up when I bounced him. I grinned to myself and stood up.
I had to admit, he was fucking cute as hell. Watching him nodding off like that made me feel that thing in my chest again, whatever it was supposed to be. I carried Mason up the stairs and into Tara’s bedroom. I slowly placed him down in the crib and watched him as he drifted off to sleep, his little baby chest rising and falling.
The kid looked like me. That was for sure. And he was probably the easiest baby I’d ever heard of, though I didn’t really know anything about babies.
The first night I met Tara came back to me then. With the way she moved, the way she fucked, I couldn’t believe that she had been a fucking virgin. I probably wouldn’t have been so rough, so fucking hard on her, if I had known. But she’d loved it, seemed to love having my thick cock slam between her legs. She took me like she was fucking built for it, like it was the only thing in the world she wanted. The way she looked at me drove me absolutely fucking wild.
And I couldn’t stop myself. I stood up and moved out of the bedroom. The shower had stopped, so I knocked on the door once.
“Yeah?” Tara called out.
I opened the door. “Mason is asleep.”
She stood there staring at me, her body wrapped in a towel. “Okay. You can’t just come in here.”
I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. “Tell me to leave.”
“Emory, what are you doing?”
I took a step toward her. “Go ahead. Tell me to leave.”
“Emory.” She bit her lip, taking a half step back.
I caught her up by the waist and pulled her tight against me. She gasped as I tugged her towel off, letting it drop to the ground.
Her body was tight and still damp, her skin soft from the warm water. I kissed her neck and she let out a soft moan, not fighting me, not pushing back.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want it,” I whispered in her ear.
“Don’t be an asshole, Emory,” she said.
I crushed my mouth against hers, kissing her hard. Her tongue entered my mouth as her hands wrapped around my neck.
I couldn’t stop myself. My cock was fucking hard as hell as I found a condom in my pocket and tossed it onto the counter. Tara began working at my belt, pulling it open and unbuttoning my jeans.
I pulled off my jeans, kicking them aside, and kissed her neck, her chest, her hard nipple. My hands found her cunt, and she was soaking wet already, dripping and slick.
“What were you thinking about?” I asked her.
“What?”
“In the shower. What were you thinking about?”
I began to softly rub her clit as I took a handful of her hair and tipped her chin back. She gasped as I easily slid my fingers deep inside her fucking pussy, pushing them deep up her cunt.
“Shit,” she moaned.
“Tell me what you were thinking.”
“You,” she gasped as my fingers rolled back out to her clit, working her. “I was thinking about your cock, about sucking your cock.”
“You dirty fucking girl,” I said. “You got this wet just thinking about sucking my big cock?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Shit, I don’t know why. It just makes me wet.”
I stepped back and pulled my boxer briefs off. She took my cock in her hand and fell to her knees without another word. I watched as she slipped my thick tip between her lips and started sucking me like that, sucking me furiously and hard.
Fuck it felt incredible as she took my cock between her pretty lips. I loved seeing my dick disappear down her throat as she sucked me, and I loved even more how she moaned as she sucked me. I knew her pussy was dripping wet, soaked and ready for it. The fact that sucking me off made her that fucking wet only made my cock even harder.
I pressed her head down, pushing my cock down her throat, and began to fuck her mouth like that. She put her hands on my legs and took me, doing exactly what I wanted. She was a good little cock sucker, taking my big dick between her lips. She moaned as I pushed it farther, deeper, and finally pulled back.
She gasped, jerking my cock in long strokes, staring up at me with this fucking look in her eyes. I couldn’t wait another second. The room was covered in steam from the shower, and I could see sweat starting to roll down her skin again.
I picked her up and practically threw her down onto the counter, next to the sink. I put her one leg up and pressed my face against her pussy, my tongue and lips sucking at her clit. I found the condom I had thrown down onto the counter and ripped it open as I sucked and licked her.
“Fuck, Emory,” she moaned. “I don’t know how you do that.”
I slipped a finger deep inside her and grinned. “It’s easy when you taste so fucking good.”
I stepped back as she stared at me with that starving look again and rolled the condom down along my hard cock. I took her hair again and pulled her close once I was finished, kissing her hard.
I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t hold myself back. I took one leg with my free hand and pressed my cock against her soaked pussy.
I slipped deep inside her and she moaned against my mouth.
“Fuck,” I said. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“I can’t help it,” she moaned as I began to thrust into her. “I can’t help myself.”
“Everything about you drives me fucking wild. Your skin, your hair, your teeth, this tight fucking cunt, every inch of you.”
I pressed myself against her, letting go of her hair. I hooked her legs with my arms, widening them, and pushed myself deep inside her. She gasped as I began to thrust and fuck her like that, her back against the mirror, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. My cock filled every inch of her, and she took it, her mouth open, moaning like she couldn’t breathe.
I fucked her rough and deep, our bodies rocking against each other, electric chills running through my skin. The heat from the shower lingered in the air, causing sweat to drip down along our skin as I kept pushing into her, fucking her deep.
I took a finger and rubbed her clit as I fucked her. She writhed her hips, taking my cock, working with me as I worked her body. I fucked her deep and slick, working her clit, our bodies rocking together, working in rhythm, sweating and moaning. I loved the sound of her moans, loved the sound of my cock thrusting into her tight cunt, loved the way she gripped me like a fucking vice.
I stepped back then, gasping and breathing deeply, pleasure rocking through my veins. I grabbed her and pulled her off the counter, turning her around and bending her over. I slapped her ass hard, and she gasped as I pushed my cock deep between her legs, fucking that tiny cunt from behind.
I grabbed her hips, pulling her against me. I needed this tight cunt, needed her pussy. I wanted to fuck her until she screamed my name, wanted to feel her come on my hard cock again. Everything was her, the sweat on my skin, the feeling in my veins, the pleasure rolling along my spine. I grabbed her full breasts, teased her nipples, kissed her spine as I worked my cock deep inside her.
She rolled her hips, bucking her ass back against me. I savored the sweet slap of my skin against hers. “Fuck me, Emory,” she moaned. “Don’t fucking stop. Please, don’t stop.”
I reached around and began to work her clit as I fucked her. She moaned, her body working and working harder, rolling along my thick cock as I fucked her deeper and deeper. She took that cock like she was starving for it, and I knew she was. I had to make her come, had to feel that body twitch and tense as the orgasm washed over her.
I fucked her hard, savagely, like a fucking animal. I slapped her ass and pulled her hair. “Take that fucking cock, you dirty girl,” I whispered in her ear. “Take that thick fucking cock. I want to see you come.”
She worked her back, rocking against my cock as I fucked her deep. I slapped that thick ass again and she moaned, gripping the counter so hard her knuckles were white.
The orgasm washed over her, rolling down along her skin, making her twitch and tremble. She moaned my name over and over, shaking from the power of the orgasm as I kept fucking her deep and hard, unrelenting with my cock.
As her orgasm slowly faded, I stepped back, tearing the condom off my dick and throwing it aside. “Suck me off,” I said. “Swallow my fucking cum.”
She dropped to her knees again and sucked my dick, greedy and hungry. I was so fucking close already, on the verge of shooting my thick load down her throat. I let her suck me like that, her lips sucking hard and her tongue working me. She was still wet from the shower and covered in sweat from getting worked so hard, and she’d never looked any fucking sexier than in that moment.
She sucked me greedily, taking my cock into her throat. I pressed her down harder, pushing my cock between her lips, and I could feel it building up in my balls. “Fuck,” I groaned as I came hard down her throat.
She took every single drop of my hot cum. The orgasm rocked my body as she kept sucking me, working me, jerking my shaft and sucking every drop of my cum. Finally it slowly faded, and she swallowed every drop, cleaning me off with her tongue.
“Fuck, girl,” I said, lifting her up and kissing her hard. “Fuck that was incredible.”
She smiled at me, pressed her head against my chest. “I can barely stand,” she said. “My knees are shaking.”
We leaned like that together against the counter, dripping wet and spent, pleasure rolling around my mind.
Damn right I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
I didn’t have a chance when Tara fucked like that.
19
Tara
My head was buzzing as I came down from my orgasm. Emory kissed me and grinned as he got into the shower, and so I was left alone to lean up against the counter, my mind running back over what had just happened.
I knew I should have told him to leave, should have just told him to go away. But I couldn’t, not when I wanted it so much. Emory was the only thing that made me feel good, feel really good, aside from Mason of course. Emory just made me feel new highs, new peaks of sensation and pleasure, things I never knew were possible.
He almost made me forget the danger we were in, and that was probably dangerous in itself. His cocky grin and his delicious, muscular body made me forget that I was being hunted by dangerous terrorists.
And I had to remember, couldn’t forget. I had to remember, at least for Mason’s sake.
As I stood there catching my breath, I heard something in the other room. I paused, listening, and then sighed. “Mason’s crying,” I said to Emory.
He poked his head out of the shower. “I can get him.”
“No. That’s okay. Finish your shower. You’ve done enough.”
He grinned at me. “I’m just getting started.”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I left the bathroom and went into my bedroom. Mason was awake and crying loudly, a screaming cry, very unusual for him. I bent down and lifted him up. His diaper was clean and he’d been fed recently. He almost never woke up crying like this, or at least not screaming like this.
“Okay, Mason, okay,” I said, rocking him. I could remember a handful of times that he’d cried like this before, but none in the last two months.
I bounced him as I walked slowly downstairs, heading into the kitchen. I thought maybe he might be hungry, but as soon as I tried feeding him, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t. I stood up again and walked around, bouncing and talking to him.
When I first found out I was pregnant, so long ago, I was terrified. I thought my life was over, that I was never going to do anything that I wanted to do again.
And in a lot of ways, I was right. My life as I knew it was over, but I could never have imagined what my new life was going to be like.
Sleepless nights, crying babies, stress, so much stress. Having an infant was so stressful, and it wasn’t going to get any better.
My parents and Lindy helped as much as they could, but in the end it was up to me. I learned as fast as I could and took on as much as I possibly could, but it was so hard.
But it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
That probably sounded cheesy, and maybe it was, but Mason really was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Before, I didn’t really have a set path in life; I didn’t have a purpose. I was going to parties and studying hard and spending time with my friends, but all of that was so empty and meaningless compared to Mason.
He gave my life purpose. During those first couple of months, I learned over and over again why people wanted to have children. It was so difficult, but so incredibly rewarding. Every new milestone he hit sent joy through my heart. Every time he smiled, I felt complete.
And every time he cried, I felt like my heart was breaking just a little bit.
I remembered those early sleepless nights when Mason just couldn’t stay down for more than a couple hours. I was like a walking zombie, and there were times when I wanted to give up. But I never did, because I loved that crying little baby more than anything else in the world.
People said your life changed when you had a child, and they were right. You just couldn’t really understand it until it actually happened to you. Until you had a child, it was impossible to really get how important and powerful that love was.
Mason was my everything, and as I walked around the living room, rocking him and talking to him, I felt a sadness growing inside me. I hated seeing him cry, especially like this. I had no clue what was wrong with him, what he needed.
I tried everything. I tried his favorite toys, his binky, his bouncy chair. I tried feeding and changing him, walking with him, bouncing him, reading to him.
But nothing worked.
I sat down in the kitchen, so frustrated. Emory walked in and leaned up against the doorframe. “Going okay?” he asked.
“I don’t understand it,” I said. “He never cries like this, Emory.”
“Here, let me try.”
I frowned. “Okay. Worth a try.”
I handed Mason over to him.
Mason just kept right on screaming.
Emory bounced him, talked to him, walked around with him, but nothing. He made faces and spoke in baby talk, but Mason wasn’t having it. Emory was adorable trying to help, and maybe if I weren’t so stressed and upset I would be able to appreciate it, but Mason’s crying had me on edge.
Finally, Emory handed Mason back. I rocked him, staring down at him.
“Does he feel warm to you?” I asked Emory, cocking my head to one side.
Emory pressed his cheek against Mason’s forehead. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? He either does or he doesn’t.”
“I don’t exactly have experience with this, Tara.”
“Okay. Sorry. Just, maybe he’s sick? He does feel warm to me.”
I felt Mason’s forehead with my cheek again, and sure enough he felt warmer than usual.
“You’re just upset,” Emory said. “For good reason. But Mason is fine. Don’t worry.”
“Of course I’m worried,” I said, annoyed with him. He couldn’t understand. How could he?
Emory didn’t have to raise Mason. He didn’t push Mason out of his vagina, didn’t feed him, change his diapers, didn’t do everything for Mason like I did.
I couldn’t just sit back and watch Mason suffer. If he had a fever, something was seriously wrong.
I left the room, bouncing Mason, trying to calm him down. I went upstairs and read to him for another hour, going through every book I had and then moving on to random things on my phone. By the end of the hour, I was getting desperate, and Mason was definitely warmer than he had been before.
I went back downstairs and found Emory sitting on the couch, his
feet kicked up, watching a crappy TV.
“I want to take Mason to a hospital,” I said to Emory.
He looked at me. “No.”
“Emory, he has a fever.” I carried Mason over to him. “Feel.”
He reluctantly felt him again and made a grunting sound. “He’s warm,” Emory admitted.
“Hospital. Please. A fever is bad. Mason doesn’t normally cry like this.”
“No,” he said again. “We can’t go to a hospital. It’s too dangerous. We have to let him pass this on his own.”
“Emory, he’s a baby. He can’t just fight off infections on his own.”
“He has to,” Emory said. “I’m sorry. He’s my son too.”
“No, he isn’t,” I snapped. “You weren’t there. You didn’t raise him. You don’t know what it means to be a father, clearly.”
He stared at me for a second, his face hard. “I’m sorry. No hospital.”
“I’m going. You can’t stop me.” I stormed off toward the front door.
I didn’t even hear him come up behind me. One second I was reaching for the door, and the next Emory was in front of me, blocking my way.
“Move,” I said.
“No. Go back.”
“Move or I’ll make you move.”
He grinned at me. “Let’s see you.”
I clenched my jaw, ready to lash out at him. I wanted to hurt him, to hit and kick him. How dare he keep me from bringing my baby to a hospital? Mason was hurting and he was my child, and I had to do everything possible to get him there.
But then I took a deep breath and let it out.
“You can stop me now, but I’m not giving up,” I said. “I’m going to get to a hospital. I’m not going to let my son suffer, no matter what.”
“You realize we have terrorists chasing after us, don’t you?”
“I know, but you can lose them. We can make it to a hospital.”
“It’s not safe, Tara.”