by Brill Harper
She moans loudly and continues to thrust herself up and down on my fingers. She grabs my wrist, sending my fingers deeper into her. I stop and bring my hand to my mouth as she cries at my sudden exit.
“Watch me lick you off my fingers, sweetheart.” Her eyes dilate as I savor the taste of her. “So fucking good.”
I quickly bring her up into a sitting position and pull her top off over her head. Those fucking tits. I’ve been teased with glimpses of them every time she nurses Kenzie. Her nipples are puffier now than before she gave birth. Wider like silver dollars. The shape of her is so womanly, so lush.
She covers her scar from surgery, but I pull her hand away and kiss it. “You don’t get to hide anything from me now.”
She lays back down, and I move on top of her, and we grind together and kiss like horny teenagers. Slowly, I start to kiss down her throat, nuzzling the space between her neck and her shoulders and down toward the slopes of her beasts. She tangles her hands in my hair and urges me to move lower, so I kiss down her body, savoring her succulent curves. Lower and lower, inhaling deeply as I veer to her thighs. With each kiss she moans as I get closer and closer to her pussy.
“Please.”
“Please, what, sweetheart?” I nip at her skin.
“Stop teasing me. I need to come,” she groans, her fingers digging into my scalp.
Laughing, I lower my mouth to her pussy, slowly licking, committing her taste to my memory. Salty, musky, slightly sweet.
Her hips are grinding and thrusting up toward me now, her breath getting shorter and shorter. “I could eat you all night.” I concentrate my lips and tongue on her hard little clit, sucking it into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue as I finger her pussy, curling my finger toward her G-spot.
She moans and her pussy contracts around my finger, her body convulsing off the bed. “That’s it, angel. Come all over my hand. Such a good girl.”
Watching each flash of pleasure spark through her body and onto her face as she hurtles through her orgasm makes me feel like a goddamn king. Her ecstasy is my reward. I want more.
I get a condom, wishing I didn’t have to. As I put it on, I look at her shapely body spread out below me. Glowing and dazed from the orgasm I gave her. I want to feel her come around my dick. “Do you know how many times I've imagined taking you? How I've stroked my hard cock thinking about pushing into your tight little wet cunt?” I reach down to grip the outsides of her thighs, positioning myself between them. I grab my cock and rub it between her drenched pussy lips. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” I ask, rubbing her slit with the tip of my aching cock, praying to God she hasn’t changed her mind.
“I'm sure, Mac. I'm so sure. Do it. Fuck me.”
I growl, pausing with the head barely inside her. “Look at me,” I whisper harshly, grasping her chin and forcing her gaze on me again. “I want to see the look in your eyes when I enter you.”
I push in slow, achingly slow, but I don’t want to hurt her and damn, she feels so good. Something happens in our eye contact. Something raw and more intimate than I’ve ever felt before. She tenses, just as taken aback by it as I am. Something pushes at my chest from the inside, an ache heavy and wanting. I push in and her body goes rigid.
“Relax, sweetheart. Don't clench up.” She exhales like she’s forgotten she hadn’t, and I ease all the way into her tight channel. I begin pushing in and out of her in slow, controlled, shallow thrusts. “You feel so perfect around me.”
I pull her legs higher around my waist in an attempt to penetrate her deeper. My cock is a steel rod, throbbing with anticipation, but I pause long enough to feel how hot and tight she encases me. Her slick walls welcome me, heating up my shaft.
“Mmm,” Hillary moans as my cock fills her snug pussy, and I push against her mound.
“Am I too hard for you, sweetheart? Am I too big?” I ask roughly, pushing myself deeper and hoping to God she says no but still going slow.
“You feel so good,” she whispers. Our eyes lock on each other again, and neither of us move as her pussy muscles compress around my cock. She grips my face in her hands and pulls me in for a kiss, digging her heels into my ass and pushing me deeper inside. We grind against each other, not even fucking exactly. Just grinding in this slow rhythm that takes me down to my core animal.
Her inner muscles tighten and pulse around me, and I know I won’t be able to go slow much longer. I reach under and grab her ass as I thrust deeper into her. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me you’re okay. That you need it. I’m barely holding on here, sweetheart.”
“I feel every inch of you inside me and I still want more. Make me yours, Mac.” She rocks against my cock. “Fuck me like you own me.”
Fuck. That does it. Like a starting gun has gone off in my head, I pound her pussy, pushing on her clit with my pelvic bone on each downward thrust. I can't remember ever being this hard.
She keeps moaning and calling my name. “Oh fuck! Oh Mac! Oh God!” she calls out as I slam my cock home again and again until we're both reduced to grunting animals.
She plants her feet on the mattress and arches her back as I hammer into her fiery heat. This bed is going to catch on fire. I have to slide my hands under her back and grip her shoulders to keep her from hitting the headboard.
I’m driving into her like a hammer to a nailhead. Deeper. Harder. Fuck. I’m being too rough, but it’s hard to stop or slow or think when she’s egging me on. I reach between us and get a thumb on her engorged clit. “Come, baby. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you milking my dick.”
Hillary screams, thrashing her head from side to side and digging her fingers into my back as her orgasm hits her full force. My balls tighten, and my blood goes lava hot. My cock lurches inside her, her inner muscles clamping tightly around it. White lights blur my vision as I throw my head back and roar. We ride out the pulsating waves of pleasure as I jerkily discharge my heavy load into the condom, hoping to hell it can hold it all.
Chapter Eight
Hillary
I’M A PRETTY LIGHT sleeper lately, so when I notice a change in Mac’s body next to me, I wake up right away. We’d fallen asleep with me on his chest, both of us warm and languid and boneless. Now he’s stiff, tight, and his heart is pounding too fast under my cheek.
I lift my head. Clock says 2:14. Kenzie will be up soon.
I wipe my mouth and chin for stray sleeping drool and consider the man I’m curled against. I need to be so careful. What he did to my body, what I did to his, brought me to another plane of existence. A girl could get used to the kind of orgasms that wring out her body.
Don’t.
I know, I know.
I promised myself that I would be enough for my child when her bio-dad dumped us. When my parents were too disappointed in me to keep loving us. I can’t let my heart lead us to that kind of hurt again. I have to be enough for her and for me. It’s nice having Mac around, but I can’t get used to it or depend on him too much. I have to make sure that if we remain friends with benefits, it stays friends with benefits. It’s too easy to rely on him like he’ll always be there. When your own parents break up with you, you learn nobody is really safe. Nobody stays forever.
I just have to be strong. Enjoy his body. His time. His infinite patience. His sense of honor. His humor. His heart...fuck, I’m falling for him and I can’t. I absolutely cannot.
His body tenses below me again, and I realize he’s dreaming. It doesn’t seem like a happy one. He shoots upright, gasping, and I get bounced off him back to my own side of the bed.
I scramble back to him. “Mac, it’s okay. You’re dreaming. It’s a bad dream.”
He looks at me with a lax expression, his eyes cloudy and unfocused.
“You were having a dream,” I repeat and reach for his shoulder. It’s clammy, and he shrugs me off him and bolts out of bed.
“Sorry.” He searches the floor for his pants, his movement err
atic and jerky. “I should go. Sorry I woke you.”
“No big deal. It’s almost time for—” my speech is broken off by Kenzie’s muffled cry on the baby monitor. “Well, you know.” I laugh it off as I roll out of bed, but the laughter is forced. I feel a lot more naked right now than I did when he was inside me.
I don’t like this sense of bewilderment I feel. I don’t want to get too close to him, but I don’t appreciate feeling like he’s pulling away either. He isn’t looking at me. He won’t look at me.
I know this feeling. This sinking of the heart. I drop my chin to my chest. I’ve been here before. I tug on the first clothes I find, wanting not to be visible.
“I’ll go—” my voice cracks, so I clear it. “I’ll go feed Kenzie. You can...stay.”
“No, I should...”
“Right. Okay. Well, see you tomorrow then.”
I rush out of the room, past him and into the living room where Kenzie’s crib is. I pull it together with a deep breath and reach in to get her. “Hello, hungry baby. Mommy’s here.”
As soon as she is in my arms, I feel more centered again. She’s already rooting around on my shirt as I walk to the rocking chair. Hungry baby is right. Mac comes out looking more himself.
“Sorry that was weird. I...the dream. I just have trouble shaking it sometimes.”
I settle Kenzie on my breast. “Sure, yeah. It’s fine.”
“I’m going to go home, but I’ll see you later today, right? We still on for the park later?”
I nod and force a smile. He leans down and kisses the top of my head and then the top of Kenzie’s head. She doesn’t notice. Food is all she needs right now. And that I can give her. I have serious doubts about my ability to provide her with what she’ll need as the years progress, but right now, I can do this. And I don’t need anyone.
When the door latches, I let out a shuddering breath and tug the baby closer. “We’ll figure it out together, baby. You and me together. Against the world.”
Later that day, Mac stops by with the mail, just like most days. I should probably tell him I can get my own mail. It would be good for me to look at all the ways I’ve insinuated him into our lives and start taking baby steps away from them. Like that old saying goes about people coming into your life for a season or something. The fact that it hurts to think of him not being a part of my everyday life is the very reason I should start the process sooner. If he stops coming and I’m not prepared, it will hurt more.
That’s when I see it.
A card in a pink envelope with my mother’s writing. My belly knots.
“Why are you shaking?” Mac asks me and immediately comes to my side.
“Um. Maybe I didn’t eat enough.”
He looks right through me and then looks at the pile of mail. “What is upsetting you about that card?”
I blow out a slow breath. “It’s from my mother.”
“You don’t talk much about your parents.”
“There’s not much to say. They wanted me to go to this old school maternity home thing and give my baby away. They didn’t want their friends or the people from church to know that I had fallen.” I push the card away from me. “They told me they wouldn’t pay for anything unless I did it their way, so I left. Old Joe hired me back on. I sold my car since I only live a couple blocks away from work. I haven’t spoken to my parents or anyone in the family since.”
And nobody has tried. I don’t know what they tell their friends. Or their church. I stopped hoping for a call after a couple of months went by. Seeing my mother’s handwriting brings back the familiar hurt.
“I’m sorry. They shouldn’t have done that to you. They are your family. That’s supposed to mean something.”
I shrug it off. “It means I learned my lesson.”
“You should read the card.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Hillary...”
“Fine.” I rip it open with shaking fingers, pink glitter puffs out of the envelope. It’s your standard sugar and spice welcome to a new girl, along with a check for fifty dollars and an invitation to come by some time.
“They want to meet her.” There’s this pit in the middle of my stomach that feels like it’s sucking everything into it. Like I’m falling into myself and once I’m gone, that’s it.
“That’s good, right? Mending fences and all that?”
The shudder that wracks my spine says otherwise. No. I can’t fall. I have to claw my way back out. For my daughter. “I don’t want Kenzie to find out the hard way what happens when you disappoint them somehow. It’s better if she never meets them.”
I turn and look for something constructive to do. Luckily there are always dishes in my sink that need to be washed.
“Hey.” He pulls me into a hug. The spearmint and spice cloud loosens my tension-filled muscles. It feels too good. I want this too much. “I’ll go with you.”
“What?” I pull back and put distance between us. “Why?”
He recovers quickly, but I see the pain that flashed in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s not you. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” I cross the room and adjust the baby in her swing. “We don’t need them.”
“Of course you don’t need them. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have them in your life. On your terms.” He pulls me over to the couch and sits next to me. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I’m really not.”
I miss my parents all the time. It’s like a blade making a fresh cut every time when I want to pick up the phone and tell my mom something about Kenzie and remember that I can’t. That we aren’t family anymore. That they didn’t want her or me.
“I know you, Hillary. You will obsess about this if you don’t at least try. You’ll always wonder if you should have given them a chance. Let’s just go and we’ll see. If it’s a mistake, then you’ll know.”
“Just go? Like now?”
He stands up. “Like now.”
I can think of a thousand reasons not to. And I should go on my own, anyway. Not drag Mac into it. Not depend on him more. But he’s right. He does know me, and my mind won’t let go. Not after she reached out.
Which is how I find myself on the stoop of my childhood home three hours later. I stare at the doorknob. I can’t just walk in anymore. I don’t know how to do this. Mac reaches in front of me and presses the doorbell
Right. That’s how you do it.
I flex my fingers, curling and uncurling.
“Relax,” he says in my ear, that low, gravelly voice that soothes me even when I don’t want to be soothed.
“I can’t. I feel like my lungs won’t expand all the way. This is a bad idea.”
Like last night was a bad idea. We still haven’t talked about that. How did we get here, on my parent’s doorstep, before we talked about the sex we had last night?
Now is not the time to think about sex. Stop it.
The door opens. I don’t know why I thought my mom would look different. She looks the same as she did a year ago. It just feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen her, but it hasn’t been one. Her face softens momentarily, then she takes in Mac holding Kenzie in her car seat. “Who in the world are you?”
Mac
I DON’T KNOW WHY I didn’t plan what to say to that ahead of time. I should have assumed it would come up, right? Who am I standing on their porch with their daughter and holding their grandchild?
Who am I? Certainly not anyone I currently recognize.
“Mom, this is my neighbor, Mac. He helps me out sometimes.”
I’m a cop, and I know how to hold an expression on my face that doesn’t go along with what I’m feeling inside. I’ve had to assure people they were okay when they were not. I’ve lied to plenty of people to get them to tell me things they don’t want to. But as I struggle to hold my cop face in place, my heart cracks like it’s been hit with a sledgehammer.
I don’t know what I t
hought I was to Hillary, but neighbor who helps her out sometimes wasn’t it. Best friend? Lover? Legal father of her child? I shut all that down. I guess it’s not important what she tells her parents right now since she doesn’t trust them. This isn’t a defining moment in our relationship.
Why does it feel like it is?
We enter the house, and Hillary is tense, her expression unforgiving. When her mom wants to hold Kenzie, I can see how much it costs her. Her dad joins us, and he’s watching me warily. Who could blame him? This whole situation is weird, and I don’t know why I volunteered for it.
I drink my coffee and watch Hillary twist her hands. Small talk is awkward, but since I’m there, nobody gets into the blame game and everyone stays civil.
“When are you going back to work, son?” Mr. Bloom asks me.
“Well, sir. As soon as I’m cleared.”
Mrs. Bloom obviously enjoys holding the baby, but she looks up sharply. “You’re going back to the ERU? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Mom—”
“Well, isn’t it? I would think you might want something safer now.”
“Now what, Mom?”
Mrs. Bloom’s cheeks pinken. “Well, with you and Kenzie...”
“Hillary and I are just friends, ma’am. You don’t have to worry about her getting involved with a cop.”
Hillary’s eyes cut a path to me, sharp and dangerous. “Exactly. Just friends. Nothing more.”
The temperature in the room plummets. Here I thought I’d be a good buffer between Hillary and her parents’ tension, but it turns out they have to buffer ours.