She looked really pissed. Fuck, what was on her lips? They were all red and glossy and he wanted that color smeared all over his cock.
“What’s going on, Kelly?”
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze flitted to his hard on and back to his face. She reached out and shut off the water. “Your back’s not hurt.”
“Sure it is,” he said weakly.
Her gloved hands fisted at her side. Where the hell did she get that outfit? “Why don’t you want to have sex with me?”
“What are you talking about? We had sex yesterday.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Oral doesn’t count.”
It counted before they were married as the sex they couldn’t have. Don’t say that. It’ll only piss her off more. “I was just rinsing off and then I was coming back down to attack your sexy ass.”
Her expression softened, but her gaze still studied him as though she didn’t believe him. Doubt flashed in her eyes. “Fine. I’ll be waiting.”
She turned and he waited until she left to exhale. After closing the curtain and turning the water back on, he had the most uneventful climax of his life. As he finished he felt like such an asshole. Evidence of his betrayal washed down the drain, but his guilt remained.
He found Ashlynn waiting on their bed, little red shoes perched on the coverlet. He schooled his expression and approached. “You look stunning, love. Where did you get all this stuff?” His finger traced the soft crimson contour of her lips and she lowered her lashes, turning her mouth to his palm to leave a red kiss.
“I went shopping today and I thought it would be nice to pick up something sexy to wear for my husband.”
His finger slowly toured the curves of her breasts and traced down to the black lace covering her sex. She arched and reached for his towel. Although she tried to hide her confusion, he saw it flash in her eyes as she noticed he was no longer hard.
“Come to bed,” she whispered in that throaty voice. It wouldn’t take long for him to be hard again.
He climbed over her and her legs stretched beneath his, her arms extending into the pillows. His mouth found hers and she delivered one of the most searing kisses he’d ever had in his life. His body shot to life and he couldn’t resist surrendering to everything she offered.
His hand coasted over her corset and found her sex wet and wanting. He pulled the lace aside and filled her with his fingers. She moaned and arched as he slowly played with her. His cock dragged over the silk of her stockings already leaving a trail of pre-come on the lace.
He carefully unhooked the little line of snaps at her breasts and perfect ivory flesh burst forth. His mouth teased her nipples and she cried out, his thumb stroking her clit as she tightened around his middle finger.
He pulled the rest of the lingerie off her body and tossed it aside. They kissed and licked and touched for as long as he could hold out and then he had an idea.
“So what did I do to deserve all this?”
She sighed, her eyes a dark shade of chocolate and her mouth slack from kisses and orgasms. “I just figured it would be nice to treat you to a night of fantasy.”
“Fantasy, eh?”
“Mm-hmm. You can have your wicked way with me.”
He plucked at her nipple, stroking her and keeping her just past that edge of reason. “So I can do whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want,” she breathed and keened as he pinched the tip of her pink nipple.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to do with you for a while. Can we try?”
“Sure. I’m your wife. I’m here to please you.”
Had there ever been more beautiful words? “Turn around on your belly.”
She blinked and nodded, slowly rolling to her stomach. He climbed behind her thighs and ducked low to lick up her glossy slit. She preened and he spent a few minutes there because he couldn’t resist. She was so pink and perfect.
His mouth followed her slit up to the crease of her ass and his tongue found her little rosette. She stiffened and he held her still.
“Kelly?”
“Shhh. Trust me.”
His finger delved into her creamy sex and she slowly relaxed. He gathered her sweet honey and spread it to the little flower of her ass. When his fingertip pressed in she nearly shot off the bed.
“Kelly!”
He pressed his forehead to the soft curve of her back. “Please, love. It’ll feel good. I know you’ll like it.”
He sensed her thinking and worked the fingers of his other hand into her sex, distracting her. Soon he sensed her surrender and took it as consent. He worked her pussy like a master. Made her cry like a cat in heat. Once her skin glistened with sweat and she was rocking on her knees with blatant need, he reached in the drawer on his side of the bed, just next to where he kept his tissues for J.I.L.L and grabbed the small bottle of lube.
After oiling up his length, he played with her some more, carefully slicking his way. Lining up his cock to her back entrance he slowly pressed forward.
Her shoulders quivered as the sound of her harsh breathing filled the room. His hand petted from the column of her throat down her spine. She tensed and he soothed, making slow, shallow thrusts into her virgin hole.
The further he pressed the more he realized how much he missed this connection, the feel of his body blanketing hers, filling her, the glove of her body holding him. His need doubled and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust and filled her ass.
She grunted and her head dropped to her arms. “Are you okay?” Fuck. She’s not ready for this, you prick.
“Move or do something,” she said and he considered pulling out and leaving her alone.
You’re a fucking pussy. She isn’t ready for this and you know it! She’d give you anything and you can’t even give her honesty because you’re a fucking coward!
Smothering his self-loathing, he moved carefully and she slowly adjusted. Taking measured strokes in her tight little hole he guided her hips and saw the moment pain transcended to pleasure. Her discomfort gave way to long guttural moans.
“Better?”
“I…I don’t know. It’s different.”
He thrust again and she gasped. “If you don’t like it we can stop.”
“I don’t know if I like it. Keep going.”
He picked up his pace and she began to really get into it. Her tiny hands gripped the pillows and she cried out as he increased the pressure of each plunge. He reached beneath her and found her clit and she went crazy.
His name was a mantra she cried out over and over again and soon it became too frenzied, too hot for him to hold back. He pounded into her and, as she came, tiny quivers of her pulsing sex penetrated that thin wall of tissue and he shouted her name as he crossed that edge with her.
Minutes later he cleaned them both up and pulled the covers over her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, a satisfied curve to her lips, and she sighed. “That was new.”
“Did you like it?”
“I’m still undecided. I didn’t like it at first, but I can’t complain about the end.”
He kissed her lips, the makeup now completely worn off. “I love you, Ashlynn.”
She exhaled happily. “I love you too, Kelly.”
The following morning Kelly had some shit to deal with. Namely, his guilt. Every time he glanced at Ashlynn over the breakfast table she blushed and looked away. He may have bought himself some time, but he needed to come up with a better plan. As fun as last night was, he missed simply making love to his wife.
You could just go to the doctor’s.
He pushed the thought away, not ready to face the fear that there might be something wrong with his manhood.
He was watching TV when Ashlynn came down the stairs, dressed, with her keys in her hand. “I’ll be back.”
“Where you going?”
“Confession.”
He stilled. Do something! “I thought we could go out to lunch.”
&
nbsp; She came over and kissed him. “Sure. I should be back in a half hour.”
He grabbed her hand. “Go to confession another time. Let’s go out.”
She tugged her hand away and giggled. “Kelly, I have to. I…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We did bad things.”
His eyes widened. “You can’t confess that!”
She frowned. “Why not? It’s a sin.”
Dear God! Images of Father Mark’s shock and disapproval flashed though his mind, the thud of the Holy Bible dropping out of his hand an echo rattling his brain. “We’re married.”
“And the church believes it’s a sin for a husband to ejaculate anywhere but in his wife’s vagina.”
“But you give blowjobs.”
“I confess them too.”
What? “Jesus Christ, Ashlynn!”
“Hey!”
Pictures of Father Mark sitting in that little closet listening to his wife’s confession of sucking her husband’s dick joined the other images. No, no, no, no. No!
He stood up. “I don’t want you telling a priest about our personal life.”
She scowled at him. “I’m telling God.”
“He sees all. I’m sure He knows.”
“Kelly, you’re being ridiculous. Do you think I’m the only person who confesses this stuff?”
Yes! “How specific do you get?”
“I don’t know. I just say what I have to say and then I do my penance.”
He knew Ashlynn’s faith was an unbending matter in their life, but this was taking things too far. “Ashlynn, I don’t want you telling him that shit.”
“Well, I’m sorry. It’s what I believe.”
“And what if he tells you to stop? It’s a sin to knowingly confess something you intend to do again.”
Her lips tightened. He had her there.
“Will you stop doing all that other stuff if a priest tells you to?”
“Well, no…but most of the time it’s all part of making love. So long as it ends with a chance of procreation I don’t think we’re breaking any rules.”
His head was going to explode. He turned away and paced. “Please don’t confess what we did.”
She was quiet. As he stared out the window he heard her slowly approach. “Why, Kelly? What I say in confession is between me and God. No one will treat you any different.”
He shut his eyes. He was treating himself different, seeing himself as half a man. “I just think some things are private.”
Her hand pressed to his back. “Kelly, look at me.”
He slowly turned and saw she was really trying to understand why this bothered him so much.
She looked at the floor. “Last night…did you intentionally do that so we wouldn’t have conventional sex? I’m not saying I regret it. I like experiencing everything with you. But it seems like it’s been ages since we actually made love.”
He sighed and dropped onto the couch. His actions over the past month were doing them no good. Ashlynn was clearly getting mixed signals and he didn’t know what the fuck was happening to him. It was time to come clean.
“I’m scared, Ashlynn.”
She lowered herself next to him. “What are you afraid of?”
“I…” Fuck. “I don’t know if I can give you a baby.”
She laughed. It was a nervous reflex that only lasted a beat, but it was there. “Kelly, I’m sure we’ll eventually have children. Whether you impregnate me or—”
“Whoa! Who else would do the job?”
“I’m just saying there are lots of ways for a woman to conceive. There are fertility studies, insemination, surrogacy, adoption. For all we know everything’s perfectly fine. We haven’t even been married a year. It takes time.”
Those excuses no longer worked for him. “I know something’s wrong.”
“You…” She blinked in confusion. “Did you talk to the doctor and not tell me?”
“No. I just feel it. Sammy and Mallory can’t sit on a toilet seat without getting pregnant. McCullough men are potent. That’s why there’s so many of us. It should’ve happened by now. Something’s wrong.”
Her hand pressed over his knee. “You won’t know until you speak to someone.”
His voice was barely a whisper. “But what if there’s something wrong with me? I don’t want you to have someone else’s child. You’re my wife.”
“And I’ll always be your wife. If it came to that and we had a child outside of the traditional sense, it would still be yours. We would be that child’s parents no matter how it came into existence.”
“I think you have to be a man to appreciate what I’m saying.”
“I know what you’re saying, Kelly. You have a lot of pride and I respect that, but don’t let your pride get in the way of common sense. Go to the specialist. It’s a simple test. You’re assuming the worst and we don’t have all the facts.”
He sighed. “I don’t want you to cry.”
She frowned. “Why would I cry?”
“I hear you, Ash, every month when you get your period. I know you want a baby. I’m afraid if I can’t give you one you’ll be sad and cry more than once a month. Because it would be forever.”
Her eyes darted away and he sensed her guilt. “I didn’t know you heard me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She frowned at him. “Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is the way God made us and you’re my husband. If we can’t have children then it’s something we will deal with. Us, Kelly. It happens to both of us and it’s no one’s fault. Would you have held it against me if I were barren?”
“God, no, but you’re fine.”
“Says one doctor. She could be wrong. Doctors make mistakes too.”
“I’m pretty certain it’s me,” he said quietly.
“Then get the test. Let’s not assume anything until we have some answers.”
“All right. I’ll make an appointment this week.”
She smiled and he felt the swell of relief. If a test made her happy he’d take whatever test she wanted. He was an ass for putting them through all this. He was afraid of a cup. He could handle a cup. He’d fuck that cup up. He frowned. That didn’t sound right.
“Let’s go to lunch,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“What about confession?”
She turned away and grumbled, “You have me second guessing myself. I don’t want to make any promises I don’t intend to keep.”
His head fell back as he laughed. When he met her eyes, he said, “On second thought, lunch can wait. Let’s go upstairs and make love. I miss my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kelly approached the clinic with the imagined symphony of soft flutes filling his head, the distinct voice of the greatest world leaders speaking of preventative knowledge, taking steps up the ladder of science, and conquering every man’s fear. Drums pounded, children stilled, heroes nodded, and women cried. Dishes clattered, forgotten, to the ground as he, Kelly McCullough, brave soul and distinguished rogue of the McCullough clan, marched forth and faced his Armageddon.
No. It really wasn’t anything as fancy as that, but Kelly kept his imagination going in order to keep from bolting out the door of the fertility clinic.
He approached the glass window and cleared his throat.
“May I help you?” the woman in scrubs behind the partition asked.
“I have an appointment.”
“Name?” Did she have to shout?
His throat cleared again. It must be the pollen. “Kelly McCullough.”
“Pardon?”
“Kelly McCullough.”
She met his eyes. “Oh, the semen analysis. Just a second. Let me get your cup.”
His eyes shut and his head tipped back. Didn’t she know he had a slow motion entourage of the world’s finest astronauts following him on this courageous day? She was busting his groove.
“Here you go.” She slid the tiny plastic cup across the counter, its whispered tread had
the amplified skid of a dump truck scraping across a sheet of jagged metal. His vision seemed to take halting and magnifying zooms into the cups lid until he could see every porous fiber of the plastic. He snatched it out of view and thought about making a joke about needing a bigger cup, but figured getting away from people right now was a better idea.
Another woman dressed in scrubs appeared. “Kelly McCullough?”
Jesus, how about a little discretion! He shot the nurse a look. “That’s me—as everyone now knows.”
She frowned at him. “Right this way.”
He followed her to a small room and avoided her gaze as she pointed out some ‘tools’ he could utilize to achieve his task. The door shut with the echo of a shotgun and suddenly the trumpets from Chariots of Fire made a slow roll in the silence. The world slowed on its axis as he took in the clinical surroundings. Drums pounded and his skin glossed with sweat as his feet slowly carried him toward his mission—was that Playboy? Sweet.
His imagined symphony cut off as he dropped to a chair and scooped up the magazine. He placed the cup on the table and paged through the pictures. Once he’d perused the magazine he tossed it aside. Ashlynn was prettier than all of them.
He eyed the cup. He eyed the door. Standing, he went to the lock and flicked it. “Let’s do this.”
He glanced at his hand. “It’s just me and you, Jill.”
He returned to the seat and twisted the cap off the cup and placed it back on the table. Leaning back he breathed—just breathed.
Glancing at his belt he shifted. This was sanctioned. Not just by his wife, but by science, by doctors, by God. He’d somehow landed the one free pass to defile himself, but couldn’t, for the life of him, get hard.
Frowning, he undid his pants. He contemplated the cup and then contemplated his junk. There had to be one good swimmer in there. He just needed to get him out. He opened the magazine to a woman bending over a car and placed it on the table.
He was going to the front line for men everywhere. He was putting himself out there. This was not just for him and Ashlynn. This was for the future of mankind. This was his call of duty. This was for every down-on-their-luck bastard out there who stood in his shoes.
This wasn’t about women, but about men. Only men could sympathize with how fucked this situation truly was. He needed to keep telling himself he was still a man, no matter what the outcome. He. Was. Still. A. Man.
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