That night, I leaned down and kissed her lips, so soft and supple; it made me sublimely happy to have them pressed against mine. My manhood rose as it always does when I kiss her and she purred in her throat as our tongues tangled in one another’s. Raising the heat in the room a few degrees as the scent of her arousal permeated the air with thick enchantment. I’ve always loved her scents, even when she’s turned on. It’s a sweet, musky mix which is so mouthwatering.
Just thinking about it now makes me hot. So I gulp back and try to clear my cloudy inebriated mind.
What happened next is what ruined the evening and made our lives harder. Her contractions kicked in full throttle, all because our kissing had made her so turned on, or I should say ‘I’ turned her on. Liquid was injected into her IV and within minutes she was out like a light. Snoozing in my arms and I just laid worried, as I stroked her hair with the hand that was tucked under her head and my other hand massaged our babies. My lips pressing little kisses to her messy hairline. I whispered sweet nothings to her as she slept. Telling her how much she meant to me. If I can remember correctly, I think that was the night I confessed something I’d never told her before.
I’d said, in a soft whisper, my lips in her hair, “You are the love of my life and the most important thing to me. Once the babies are born, I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life lying awake with you in my arms. Feeling your body next to mine. My lips are forever sealed with your kiss and you will always own this.” And I pressed her head to my heart and breathed her in. For hours I cuddled her in my arms. Her lightly snoring. Me just soaking in all of her wonderfulness. Her strength, her courage, her loyalty, her love, her perfection, her trust and understanding. Everything about her is nothing but perfection in my eyes.
“You’re doing it again!” a drunken Gonzales scolds with a wicked smile.
“Yeah… So what… I like thinking about her.”
Gonzales stands a little wobbly legged and stretches her hands over her head. Leaving a little bit of the t-shirt that was covering her midriff to rise and show some of her tan skin. Longer shirts are needed apparently. I don’t think she has any clothes that I approve of being around. Or maybe it’s just because she’s not Emily. Yeah, that’s probably more my problem than anything. Emily’s dressed rather provocatively a time or two and I found it hot, not gross.
“Is she beautiful?” She winks at me.
“She’s the most beautiful woman,” I state firmly, without hesitation. It’s true.
“Does she have tits as nice as mine?” she flirts and runs her hands up to her breasts, cupping them in her hands.
I roll my eyes. This horny drunk lady has a rude awakening about to happen.
“Her tits are better than any woman’s on the planet. I don’t have to see them all to know,” I growl.
“I bet after having babies her body isn’t as sexy as mine is,” she purrs, running her hands down her flat stomach and between her legs, where she stops and cups her sex with both hands and throws her head back with a throaty moan.
Seriously? I watch gangbangs that Johnathan partakes in because it’s my job and she thinks this is sexy? Come on.
“Not happening,” I bark at her.
“Oh. Why not, bad boy? You’re so hot, I’m hot. And we’re single. We are supposed to be married so let’s do what married couples do and fuck.” She bites her lower lip and begins rubbing her crotch with her hand.
“I’m only going to speak nicely one more time, Gonzales….”
“Penelope,” she moans, cutting me off. “Call me Penelope, sexy man.”
“Nope! Not going to happen! Gonzales. I might have fucked up and broke up with the love of my life. But I will not sleep with anyone for the rest of my godforsaken life besides her. Even if you paid me a billion dollars, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole,” I snap, my voice booming in the room.
“And! For your information, her body carried my children. So no matter what that has or hasn’t done to her body doesn’t matter, because those stretch marks are the most beautiful beauty marks a woman could ever possess. She’s my Mama Bear… my lady, and you will do well to respect her and my thoughts of her at all times!” I roar, steam rolling out of my ears and her eyes widen and her legs begin to shake, in palpable fear.
“And if you ever — I mean ever — make an advance on me or talk about my better half like that again, I will not only make your life a living hell, I will ruin you. Don’t push my buttons, Gonzales. I’m not to be trifled with. Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?” I unleash on her and her eyes start to well up and I don’t care one bit.
“I’m, I’m so… so… sorry. Master Sergeant James.” She salutes me with a drunk trembling hand and I salute her back, as is customary, before I turn and leave. Leaving my anger in my wake. I can’t ever let myself blow up like that again. It won’t only rain hell upon this earth but I can’t be sure what I might or might not do, with rage that intense.
Jogging up the stairs, still feeling the effects of the alcohol, I take a quick pee, wash my hands, lock my bedroom door and throw my big body onto the bed. It’s time to wash this day away. One day gone is another day closer to returning to my Mama Bear.
Chapter Ten
~Emily~
“This way sweetie, the boys have the babies, so don’t you worry,” Cammy sweetly says, her arm tucked into the crook of my elbow as she helpfully escorts me up the path of the beach house property, to the back where the main house sits. She’s so nice and unbelievably beautiful, clad in a pair of short jean shorts and a pink tank. Her blonde hair that is about as long as mine is flowing down her back. Me—I’m schlepping it up in a pair of grey yoga pants, a huge 2xl black t-shirt that was Papa Bears and my bear slippers he bought me while I was in the hospital.
Stacy’s carrying Eric’s car seat, my son's cute little legs covered in an adorable swirly blue bear blanket that my…. Oh god, the tears can’t come again!
I suck in a deep lungful of salty infused sea air, in attempt to control my overwhelming urge to throw myself onto the ground and bawl. Bawl like I’ve done every single day for the past seven days. He left me a week ago as of today and my heart’s been crushed to smithereens ever since.
Johnathan has Jenna’s girly car seat in his gasp and a black hospital diaper bag full of stuff they sent me home with slung over his opposite shoulder. Wearing a pair of black board shorts, displaying his legs full of tattoos and a bright baby blue t-shirt to finish off his look.
I think Shelly was feeling extra guilty about everything that happened so we have an entire car full of baby stuff. A breast bump, eight packs of newborn diapers, mini bottles, pacifiers, those knit underwear that help hold up your pads. Which I love. You name it, we’ve got it.
Johnathan takes the lead, up the path, entering the main house through the sliding glass door first. Then in goes Stacy, with Cammy and I trailing slowly behind. As my feet edge up against the small set of steps that lead into the house, I stop. Setting foot into the house is admitting to myself a new and rather agonizing life without my Papa Bear is about to begin and I don’t like that, not one bit.
I’ve spent countless silent hours reliving the short conversation we had before he left us. The conversation where he broke off the engagement. It didn’t really sink in at the time because of the high level of emotions and the beautiful life changing sex we had. Even if he doesn’t want to be engaged to me any longer, I don’t care. I’m still not taking off this ring and I’m sure as hell not going to stop loving or wanting him. In Colorado, when I fell for James, hook, line and sinker, I never questioned my love for him. Not once. It’s a part of me that is forever untouchable and something that I am just going to have to live with. Even if it hurts.
“You comin’?” Johnathan walks back out of the house and down the steps where I stand frozen in glacial silence.
“I think she’s deep in thought,” I hear Cammy explain and she’s right. I am thinking. All I’ve done is think. A
bout the pain, about my loss, about the twins, about every minute detail of my fucking shitty existence. Okay maybe that’s a tad melodramatic but I’m emotional and my sex drive is killing me.
I know, I know, emotional basket-case should be the furthest from turned on. But apparently the stupid greedy bitch that takes up her godforsaken residency between my legs has other ideas. Giving me a crampy stomach every single time I deprive her for too long. Leaving me with the worst case of women’s blue balls until I feed her. Which surprisingly relieves a tiny bit of stress and lets me dip into my ‘Spank Bank’, as men call it, to kick the pain out for a while and invite the pleasure to fill my veins with short-lived ecstasy. And it works until about five minutes past the orgasm when all the emotions flood back in and I’m left a sloppy, crying, crazy lady, who needs a lobotomy to get past this shit.
“Hey baby.” Johnathan puts his hand on my shoulder. “We are home. Would you like to come in?” he offers, using his other hand to fluidly cut through the air, gesturing toward the door. I haven’t spoken since he left. Except for brief stints when I’m alone with my babies. It’s not that I want to worry my family and friends more. I just know once I open my lips they are going to ask me to tell them how I’m feeling and I don’t wanna.
Instead of saying anything, I hesitantly nod twice and attempt to compose myself for the walk. The walk into my new life. It all just seems too surreal.
“Do you want me to help?” His hand that’s resting on my shoulder slides down my arm and ends at my hand where he caresses the back with his palm, over and over he sweetly touches my hand. My eyes and his are both watching his hand touching mine. It’s the first time he’s really touched my skin in what feels like forever. I almost forgot what it feels like.
“Baby...” He stops the caresses and molds his big hand around mine, holding onto it. “Please let me help you.” Hearing more than a little desperation in his voice, I nod again. I guess since he’s been really great this week I can let him help.
Cammy lets me go and backs away. I don’t know why. It’s not like I asked her to leave. Well, I haven’t asked anything of anyone in a week and a few hours. Johnathan takes point, coming to my right side, his arm snaking around my lower back to grasp my left hand in his. And up we go, one painful step at a time. My legs quivering beneath me as he supports my weight.
“It’s okay baby… just a few more,” he encourages lovingly, until we hit the landing where my shoulders finally relax and I blow out a huge sigh. Good… I’m doing good. I haven’t cried again, yet.
Crossing the threshold into the house, I watch my feet and once inside with Johnathan still at my side, I look up…
What the fuck! They did not!
Inside the living room stands Keith, Price, Deacon, Davis and his wife, Stacy, Kyle and Cammy holding Dylan’s hand. By the look on his face and the way his body is swaying I can tell it’s killing my little man to stand there. I don’t say a word as I break out of Johnathan’s grasp and kneel down, opening my arms wide for Dylan, who excitedly unhooks from his moms clutch and bounds toward me with the biggest smile on the planet, his unruly brown hair bouncing against his forehead. Planting himself in my outstretched arms, I close around him, holding him tight.
“I missed you!” He screeches into my ear and I can’t stop smiling as I hold my little man.
“I missed you more,” I whisper back, so only he can hear.
Pulling away from me, he takes a step back and places both of his tiny hands on either side of my face. Looking straight into my eyes. Into my soul.
“Is it true Papa Bear is gone?” And that does it. His saddened voice pulls me at the seams and tears drip from my eyes.
Scrunching up my face, trying not to openly sob in front of him, I nod and bite my lip. This is worse than anything I’ve had to overcome so far. To see the devastation in a four year olds face as I watch his angelic face redden and tears form in his eyes.
I snatch him back up into my arms and I hold onto him. His head tucked into the crook of my neck. I feel his innocent tears fall onto my skin as mine slide down my cheeks. I brace myself and him against my body and I stand with him in my arms. And the entire room gasps and suddenly I have all the men except Deacon, Kyle and Stacy, who Kyle’s holding back, coming to remove him. I shake off their hands. I don’t give a shit if I just had surgery. James was the only man this little boy had as a good father figure in his life and I’m not about to let anyone take him from me.
“Emily, you can’t…” Johnathan tries to physically remove my crying Dylan.
Oh hell no!
Reaching up, I cover Dylan’s ear with my hand and press his head to my shoulder to shield his ears and I twist out of Johnathan’s prying hands.
“Back. The. Fuck. Off,” I snarl at him and the entire group takes a big step backward. That’s right fuckers, this isn’t happening. I’m in charge.
Carrying my poor crying Dylan to the living room, I sit with him on the couch and spread his legs so one is on either side of me as I start to gently rock him with my body. To soothe him.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I whisper to him, my hand rubbing up and down his back to reassure him.
“Why’d he leave us?” he mutters, his words barely audible.
“I don’t know, sweetie. He just had to.” I try to gather up my jumbled emotions to comfort my little guy in his time of need. That’s when I hear a huge belt of crying ring out and everyone’s eyes leave me for the briefest of moments and go searching for the sound.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Stacy leave and come back into the room a moment later with my angry Eric.
“Hey sweetie,” I coo at my son in Stacy’s arms, standing in front of me. He must be hungry, so I pat Dylan on the back.
“Dylan?”
“Yeah?” He whines.
“Eric needs to eat, can you be a big boy while I feed Eric and sit next to me?”
He nods against my neck and sits up, sliding over so Eric can take his spot. Damn, I am wearing a huge shirt and no nursing bra. Bad choice of wardrobe Em, good one. I internally roll my eyes at myself.
Stacy comes back over and hands me a minty green nursing pillow to sidle up against my body and prop Eric up on, and he drapes a baby blanket over my shoulder to conceal my breast from the group. He’s such a great best friend. Anticipating my moves without me having to ask.
If it wasn’t for part of the people here I wouldn’t need this blanket; I’d just feed exposed. I’m no prude.
Taking my right arm out of the black shirt I throw that half over my shoulder and pull my bra down to try and pull out my breast but it’s too tight. And I can’t maneuver with Eric in my arms, Dylan next to me and a pillow against my stomach.
“Need some help?” I hear Johnathan ask from over the back of the couch. Both of his giant hands landing softly on my shoulders.
I nod and marginally lean forward for him. Unclasping my bra with ease, I’m now able to pull out my breast. All the experience with all those bitches Johnathan’s screwed over the years has given him some nimble fingers.
“We wanted to welcome you home, Em,” D states, coming over and sitting down on other brown leather couch across from me. The same leather couches from the cabin in Colorado. Well not the same, same. But same style and manufacturer. I love them.
“It’s kind of a celebration since you didn’t have a baby shower,” Johnathan chimes in, coming over to my side where Eric is feeding from and sitting down with a crunch of the leather. Dylan’s head resting against my other arm. Both of his tiny hands wrapped around my bicep. Poor little man.
“We even got a cake,” Cammy adds.
And I glance up from watching my son feed to look at Cammy standing in the open kitchen slicing what appears to be this cake she was just talking about.
“Can I see him?” Johnathan asks.
I nod, giving him the go ahead and he lifts the blanket to see our son sucking rather greedily on my right nipple. Gulping sounds bellow
in Eric’s throat as he takes long strong pulls from mommy.
“He doesn’t like me,” Johnathan admits, intently watching.
I don’t know how to respond to that statement without speaking so I give in just this once. I’m still not going to let my guard down and talk about James. That’s on the don’t-even-think-about-it list.
“He barely knows…,”
“Time for cake,” Cammy calls from the kitchen, breaking my explanation and all the men dash for the sugary goodness— all except for Johnathan.
“You were saying?” He smiles at me and pushes my hair over my shoulder, leaning in to get a better look of Eric. His face is way too close to mine. I can smell him and he smells really good.
“He barely knows you. That’s why he’s not content when you hold him and I think maybe you feel a little uncomfortable with him. He might feel your anxiety,” I explain quietly.
“I don’t want to break him.”
“He’s a baby, not a china doll. He needs his dad to love and hold him.”
Oh wow, I just called Johnathan his dad. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken that aloud before. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel weird imparting from my lips.
“You’re a really great mom, you know that?” He compliments and I can feel the genuine nature in his low, gentle tone.
Blushing, I nod and turn my head from him. Feeling his heated breath against my face tickles and feels wrong. But he’s being too nice to snap at him, again. I’m too exhausted for that anyhow.
Once Eric’s mouth relaxes and breaks from my nipple, I lift him to burp but Johnathan offers out his hands to do it instead.
Um… Okay. Sure.
I take his cue and let him father his son. Pushing Eric’s little body against his huge chest, he cups him with one hand and pats his back way too gently to produce any sort of burp so I pivot just enough that I guide him along.
“Here.” I grab his hand and show him how forceful it needs to be.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 75