by Lulu Pratt
After we ate breakfast, the two of us made love again. It was deep and passionate, like the day before. And as we did, I rode him from the front so I could look him in the eyes the entire time. We never once broke eye contact, and as we came, we did it together.
But after that, we both felt a little worn out, hence the nap. Now, as I sit in Blake’s lap, I never want to move. The only thing that is making me even consider it is the idea that this is now my home and that I get to spend the rest of my life with him.
Very slowly, I climb from his lap, making sure not to wake him. Once up, I walk around the house, taking it all in. I have walked through this house a hundred times before, but never like this. It used to always be as a stranger, knowing that one day, I would have to go home. This time, though, I see the house in a whole new light.
I look over the walls and floor. I look at the decorations, the paintings and wall hangings he has. Some I like. Some I don’t. The entire house is in need of a makeover to change it from a bachelor pad to a family home. As soon as possible, too.
It’s as this thought hits me that I suddenly get an interesting idea. I bite my lip as I ponder it, wondering if it’s too early or not. A part of me knows that I should wait, at least a few days, but another part wants to start straight away.
Making up my mind, I hurry across the house to Blake. A little too excited now, I shake him awake.
“What?” He asks as he sits up, wiping his eyes. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I look down at him with a wicked smile.
***
“Are you sure you want to do this today?” He asks me, glancing away from the road for a second and looking into my eyes.
“I want to do this last week,” I say back. “So really, I’m running terribly late.”
The two of us are on our way to my old apartment so I can get the rest of my things and leave that life behind.
When he asked me to move in with him, or told me that I was, I could not believe it. A part of me still can’t. Maybe that’s why I’m so excited to get started on the move right away? When you want to start spending the rest of your life with someone, you want that to start as soon as possible.
“Okay, but my Aston Martin can only take so much.”
“Then we’ll just throw out whatever doesn’t fit,” I say quickly.
“Really?”
“I don’t think I can emphasize how serious I am being.”
He smiles and nods, keeping his eyes on the road. I reach across the car and stroke his face. As I do, he takes my hand, and kisses it. He is mine, and I am his.
***
“So, all of this, we’re throwing out?” He asks.
Piled in the middle of my apartment are stacks and stacks of my old things. There are clothes I never wear anymore, cutlery, crockery and other kitchen utensils I don’t need, and other bits and pieces I uncovered that I had forgotten I even owned. Essentially, it is all disposable.
“All of it,” I say.
I’ve already packed the car full of everything else that I need, and honestly, there isn’t that much of it. Most of the stuff that I do own and want is already at his, our, house. The rest is a remnant from a past life that I am eager to forget.
“Okay, so should I light them on fire here, or should I carry it outside? That way we can have a bonfire and dance around it while it burns?”
“Or option three. We can call someone to come and throw it out for us?” I suggest, trying not to laugh.
“Well, it’s not as fun, but it’s definitely more efficient.”
“Come on.” I walk across the apartment and scoop up a small box on the floor. “Let’s go.”
“Goodbye, apartment,” Blake says as he walks to the front door. “You won’t be missed.”
He walks out first, and I follow him. As I turn to close the door behind myself, I pause and look back into the small apartment that I once called my home. It’s funny, but I used to not mind this place, apart from how small it was. It was never impressive or grand, but it was my home, and for that, I loved it.
But now that I look at it, I see it for what it is. Cold, small and run down. Not the kind of place that anyone should have to live in. But I smile to myself when this realization hits me. The fact that although I once lived here, I no longer do. It’s a representation of my old life, of the person I used to be.
“Are you coming?” I hear Blake call from the car.
I take one final look inside the apartment, shaking my head as I close and lock the door. That part of my life is over. I walk down the sidewalk, seeing my man leaning against the car. He smiles and waves, and I smile and wave back. He is my new life, and I can’t wait for it to begin.
Epilogue
Six Years Later
CARRIE
“Are you doing okay?” Blake asks as he drives. He isn’t looking at me, but straight ahead at the road.
“Yeah, I’m fine. No. Better than that. I’m doing great.” There is a quiver in my voice, and even I don’t believe the words I am saying.
“Ah, I wasn’t asking you,” he says, smirking. “I was asking Ben.”
He glances into the back seat where our son, Ben, sits. Ben is five years old and, in my opinion at least, gets more gorgeous every single day. Like his father, he has all dark features, and his breathtaking blue eyes. I just know that when he grows up, he is going to rival his father in the looks department, too. But he has my smile.
“Oh, right,” I say, and I shake my head. “Of course. How are you doing back there, hon?” I lean back to look at him. “Everything is fine?”
“Yes, Mommy,” he says, and he giggles. “I’m excited!” He looks it, too.
I’m a nervous wreck and have been all morning. Well, I have been all week really. It’s Ben’s first day of kindergarten, and Blake and I are taking him there together. I try to tell myself that this is all part of the process and is actually a good thing, but I’m still having a hard time coping.
I just can’t believe how quickly time passes. It seems like only yesterday that I was at that reunion. That I dropped those glasses, and Blake bent down to help me clean up. I still remember looking into his deep-set eyes and getting lost in them. I still remember how nervous I felt when I saw him, and how I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out.
It all felt like a dream. And to be honest, sometimes as I lay awake at night and watch him sleep, I pinch myself, just in case.
“And you, too?” Blake asks. He reaches across the car, takes my hand, and kisses it as he always does when he wants to make sure I am doing okay. “You’re fine?”
“Yes,” I say. This time, I sound more convincing. “Of course, I am.” I glance in the rearview mirror, catching Ben’s eyes. He giggles and I smile. I still can’t believe how lucky I am.
As the doctor predicted, Ben came into this world on the fourteenth of February. I always believed that Blake and I were meant to be together, and everything that has happened since we first met has only confirmed this. Not only did we conceive Ben in our first week of trying, but the date he was born on was the most romantic day of the year. Even the birthing process was easy and as simple as it could have been.
Blake and I are perfect for each other in every single way.
The kindergarten is the best one in the area. Blake was insistent on that. We both had pretty average childhoods, and as a result, we are both dedicated to ensuring our son has the best of everything. That starts with education.
As I take my son’s hand and lead him through the parking lot to the main building, I work to hold back the tears. My only relief comes from the fact that as I look around the school, I see a gaggle of other mothers wearing the same expression that I know to be plastered across my face. It’s a hard day for all of us.
“I think it’s this way,” Blake says, half to himself, as we stroll through the building. It’s a beautiful school, and I have to work to not gape as we make our way to where we think
the classroom is.
Everything looks to be brand new. The walls are all brightly painted, and the grounds are freshly mowed with blooming bushes. Even the teachers who stroll the hallways are dressed impeccably. If it wasn’t for the life I have been living the last six years with Blake, I would feel very much out of my element.
“This is it,” Blake says as he guides us into a small classroom.
It must be the place. There are dozens of other parents all standing around nervously. Not the kids. The kids all look excited at the prospect of going to school and making new friends.
“Can I go over there?” Ben asks as he tries to let go of my hand. I don’t even realize how hard I am gripping it.
“Oh, of course,” I say. I let go of his hand, and he instantly crosses the room to talk to a boy.
I nearly break down in tears again as I watch him. He is so outgoing, just like his father and I am so proud to watch Ben make friends as easily as he does. The boy he approaches looks nervous at first, but a few kind words from my son and the two are suddenly laughing and running around together.
“Okay, everyone,” a lady standing by the front of the room calls out. I guess her to be the teacher. “I’m afraid, parents, that it is time for you to go. Rest assured that your children are in good hands and will all be in one piece at the end of the day.”
“Come on,” Blake takes my hand, going to lead me out of the room with the other parents.
“Just a sec. Let me say bye.”
A small pair of arms wrap around my legs. I look down and smile to see Ben giving me a hug. I ruffle his hair and bend down. I wrap my arms around him and give him a big, motherly kiss on the cheek. To my delight, he doesn’t cringe or try to avoid it.
The tears are now flowing thick and fast down my cheeks, and I don’t even care.
Blake takes my hands again and pulls me from my son. He smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek. Although he isn’t crying, I can see the red in his eyes.
Blake was the one who wanted to have a child in the first place. The day we found out we were going to be parents, I can still remember how happy I was. I can still remember how happy Blake was. I have never seen him so full of joy. Even on our wedding day, I don’t think he was on the same level of happiness as that day.
He is a great father, too, and I have never, not once, regretted the decision I made. I often think about the day he asked me to have his child and what my life would be like if I had said no. Whenever I do think about it, a cold shudder runs down my body, and I quickly push the thought to the back of my mind.
The ride home is a somber experience. It’s the first day in five years that I haven’t spent with Ben. Since the day he was born, I have spent nearly every waking moment with him, and the fact that I am about to arrive home to an empty house makes my heart hurt.
“Hey,” Blake says as he navigates the car. “He’s going to be fine. You saw him. Like his mother, he’s just too easy to love.”
“I think you mean like his father, he gets along with everyone,” I counter.
“Hmm, remember that day I asked the doctor about the possibility of our son being some sort of super child?”
“I do.” I laugh, thinking back to the moment.
“I honestly think that between the two of us, we have managed to create one. The little guy is perfect in every way. How could he be any better? Tell me that?” He beams with pride.
“You’re right,” I say, and I smile. “He is perfect in every way.”
***
Indeed, the house feels empty as Blake and I walk through the door. It’s so big and open and without life. I am used to hearing the Ben’s giggling, and his little footsteps running through the house as I chase him, or as he hides from me. At this time, he is usually watching his favorite cartoon, which means that his laughter would usually be filling the house.
“It will get easier,” Blake says, noting my face. He always reads me so well and giving me a great sense of security. It lets me just be me, which causes me to want to be open with him — in all ways possible
“I know,” I say. “It might take a day or two, is all.”
Blake smiles at me. He walks through the house and into the living room. As he does, he unbuttons his shirt and removes it. “Hey, at least we have the house to ourselves.”
He turns to face me, wearing nothing more than a pair of black chinos. To his credit, fatherhood hasn’t affected him physically one iota. He is still just as intimidating and physically sexy as the day I met him. No… he’s even hotter. I know what he’s capable of, which gives him an edge I never knew existed before.
Dark tattoos trace his broad shoulders and run up his thick arms. His stomach is tight, and his chest is firm. He is a fine specimen, if I have ever seen one, and he is all mine. There isn’t anything I won’t do for him.
“That is a positive,” I agree. I walk to him, eyeing him with hunger. “But what can we possibly do with such an empty house?”
“That’s a good question.” I reach for him, and as I do, his hands wrap around my waist. I’m wearing a tight black dress that hugs my body, cut off at the knees and is suddenly feeling very, very tight and restrictive. “Any suggestions, Blake?”
“Just the one,” I say. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. He kisses me back.
As we kiss, his hands grip my waist and pull me in as close as possible. I can feel his breathing as we kiss. I can feel his heartbeat increase as my body presses against his.
My hands run up his naked torso, stroking his skin. I rest my hand on his chest. His nipple is between my fingers, and I pinch it lightly. I feel his body react as I do, and I pinch it again.
In one vigorous movement, he suddenly hoists up my skirt and lifts me into the air. I wrap my legs around his waist. We stand in the middle of the living room, devouring one another. I kiss his neck and run my tongue over his skin, loving the taste of him more than I should. His fingers disappear into my hair, and the soft tug he gives me is enough to have my body wet and purring.
I can feel his cock getting harder and harder as he presses tightly against me. I know him to be wearing boxers underneath his pants, and they are doing little to keep his manhood in check. I bite his lip, and I thrust myself against his thick erection. I want him inside of me so damn bad. I need it. Now.
He smirks and carries me to the living room. As we reach it, he leans forward and drops me gently onto the couch. The moment I am free of him, my hands go straight for his belt buckle. I can see his bulge now, yearning to be free. I eye it hungrily as I fumble with his belt. Finally, it comes undone, and the moment it is, I drop his pants.
His cock nearly hits me in the face as it springs from his pants. I waste no time, my hand wrapping around it. It pulsates in my grip, and I squeeze it by the base. He moans, so I squeeze it again. I lick my free hand and wrap it around the head of his big, erect cock. And, with both hands, I begin to stroke it. His thick head is wet with pre-cum, glistening for me.
I want to say something naughty, but I’m lost in the moment. All I can think of is fitting as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can. I want to impress him, drag him deep into a delicious pit of depravity with me.
I twist my hands and move them up and down. I lube up his dick as I work him in long strokes. His balls hang heavy beneath his erection, and fuck if I didn’t want to lean in and roll my tongue over them. So I do.
“Delicious,” I whisper roughly, talking more to myself than to Blake.
“Fuck,” he groans loudly and throws back his head, moaning in pleasure. I cup his balls, I run my hand over the tip, and I squeeze the base. I do everything I know he loves, and he reacts just as I expect him to.
He’s almost trembling with need. It’s a beautiful thing, and it leaves me feeling so damn powerful. I lean forward and take him in my mouth. In one movement, I slide it all the way in. I feel it pushing against my mouth and throat as I swallow it. Once it is in, I wrap my tongue around it.
I pull it
from my mouth and swallow again. In and out, I swallow and release. I reach the head, lick it with the tip of my tongue, and swallow. It drips with lubrication, and the sounds coming from him are almost too much. My pussy pulses with anticipation of what’s going to happen.
I pull the entire cock from my mouth, and the second it is out, Blake takes my hand and lifts me to my feet. He spins me around and unzips my dress. It falls to the floor, and his hands wrap around my breasts. I’m not wearing any panties, and I can feel his cock pressing into my ass.
“You look so goddamn good,” he murmurs and runs his hands over my ass before squeezing my flesh. “I’m going to fuck you nice and deep right now, Carrie. Just like you like it, baby. Yeah?”
“Please,” I whimper and close my eyes as he strokes my back. His strong fingers reach the small of my back, and he pushes me forward. I comply, bending myself over the couch, my ass in the air, pussy sloppy wet, just for him.
I brace myself for his huge cock to bury itself inside of me, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I gasp as he drops to his knees, wraps his hands around my ass, and plunges his tongue inside of me. He enjoys eating me out more than any other man I’ve ever heard of, but I love it. I feel like so naughty when he forces me to take his aggression, but it’s only for him. Like a deliciously dirty little secret. I love it. I love him.
I have to grab onto the couch for support as my knees nearly collapse. He tongues my pussy exactly how I like it. First, he licks my lips, running up and down them. He now runs the tip of his tongue over my clit. He licks it slowly at first, allowing for it to swell. He wraps his lips over it, sucking it. Faster and faster. He sucks it to my breathing, to my movements, and to the way I moan and tell him to keep going.
He pushes his tongue inside of me, then out, and then in again. He moves his tongue back to my clit, licking it. He sucks it. He licks it. I scream, and he continues.
I can feel myself about to come. I can feel my toes tingling and my body shaking. There’s a fire in my belly, and it is slowly spreading through my entire body. Once it envelops me, I will come all over his face.