When September Ends

by ANDREA SMITH

  I put the lid on the paint can, and tap it down securely. I take the roller and brushes, along with the pan to wash out in the bathroom. Once finished, I make tracks to the kitchen.

  There’s my angel sitting at the table, drinking a bottle of water. She’s put a plate and napkin out for me, ketchup and mustard, and just a half-filled glass of sweet tea.

  “Were you thirsty?” I ask, giving her a wink.

  “No. It spilled on the way up the driveway. Don’t worry, I cleaned up your truck.”

  “Where’s the food?” I ask, looking around.

  “Oh, I stuck it in the microwave to warm it up a bit while you were cleaning up in there.” She gets up and goes over toward the microwave on top of the counter.

  “Yeah, I should have the other two walls finished tomorrow night, and then the ceiling day after that—does that meet with your approval, Mrs. Ryan?”

  “Sounds great,” she replies, giving me one of her smiles where she scrunches up her nose at me. Those smiles are typically used when she’s being a shit with me, but I can’t think of any reason why she’d be pissed. Unless…

  “Did you want me to finish the room tonight?” I ask, quirking a brow.

  She walks over with the paper bag from Burger World, and shakes her head. “Nope.”

  I watch as she opens the bag, and dumps the contents onto my plate. The last thing out is a silky, red panty that lands smack dab on top of my cheeseburger.

  “What the…?”

  “Ketchup?” she asks, poising the uncapped bottle over my plate.

  “Hey—”

  I don’t have time to get that thought out before she’s tipped the ketchup bottle over and drenches everything with ketchup. Before she can go for the mustard, I place my hand on top of it. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem?” she repeats icily. “The only problem I have is a cheating bastard for a husband,” she snaps, her face red with fury. She tosses the ketchup-soaked panties at my face, and they stick.

  Oh Christ!

  I swipe my hand against my face, pulling the underwear off and tossing it down on the table. “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, September. Care to clue me in?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll be happy to clue you in. I found those in the glove box of your truck. Along with this,” she says, going over to the counter and picking up a plastic Walgreen’s bag and throwing it against my chest.

  When I open it I am suddenly clued in.

  Fuck. The condoms I bought last November.

  “Yeah, and one’s missing. I take it you used it whenever you fucked Ms. Red Thong, am I right?”

  I stand up, walking towards her, but she’s having none of it. I’m not sure if she’s in pregnancy hormone hell, but I swear to fuck, at the moment, it looks like her chocolate brown eyes have turned to a blazing red. I blink a couple of times, but nope. Still red.

  “Stay the fuck away from me you…you…whore-hopper!”

  “Oh, come on, September. You have it all wrong, sweetheart. Look…look here,” I say, grabbing the bag from the table. See the receipt here? Look at that date, baby. November twenty-fourth of last year. See?”

  And I can tell immediately that little piece of information isn’t quite what she’s looking for in the way of an explanation. Her eyes narrow as she backs away from me. “Did you fuck her in the truck, Jesse? Or here maybe? In our bed? No, if you had the condoms in the truck, you must’ve fucked her there. She left her undies for what? For you to sniff later for a memory? So much for you missing me, I guess. Damn cheating liar.”

  Oh God.

  I start to tell her the truth. That I have no idea who the panties belong to and then it hits me.

  Shayla.

  She must’ve taken them off and stuck them in the glove box before I got into the truck that night. I had simply thought the chick went commando.

  Fuck me. I’m so screwed.

  “I’m waiting, Jesse.”

  “Baby, nothing happened, I swear. I mean, yes, I admit, I thought that you had moved on to Brandon. And here I was on the day after Thanksgiving, and hell, I was missing you, but I was pissed at you at the same time, does that make sense?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s how I felt. Your ma was here, and she was acting like she thought we’d be sharing a bed and there was no fucking way I was going there. No way in hell.”

  She’s tapping her foot now. Impatiently. Her arms are crossed over her growing belly, and I swear she’s shooting red-hot daggers at me.

  “Okay, so I did go out with the intention of picking up…”

  “A what?”

  “A woman,” I growl, because what the fuck? Have I sprouted a vagina since I fell in love? Fuck, no! “I was set on getting laid. I went to a bar. Got drunk. And then decided to call a cab and go home.”

  “Doesn’t explain the panties, or the missing condom,” she snaps.

  “I’m getting to that. I admit I bought the condoms that night. And when I was ready to leave the bar, some woman kind of…hit on me. I’m not going to lie, at first I thought about it—for like thirty seconds. She got into the truck, and I stayed outside, drinking coffee, trying to sober up. When I got into the truck, she came on to me, but I swear to God, baby, nothing happened. I told her it wasn’t a good idea. She left. End of story.”

  “No, it’s not the end of the story. Why did she leave the thong in the truck? What about the missing condom?”

  “I didn’t know she left her underwear in my glove box. I mean, she must’ve taken it off before I got into the truck. I remember she had a short skirt on and, hell, I thought she just went commando.”

  “That’s fucking gross. What kind of trash was she?”

  “Despicable, honey.”

  “And the missing condom?”

  Jesus Christ. September has missed her calling. She’d make one hell of an interrogator.

  “I guess she found them in the glove box, probably when she stashed her panties in there before I got into the truck. She took one out and well…she wanted me to fuck her, but I didn’t. I took the condom from her because she had opened it with her teeth, and I tossed it out the window. I made it clear that nothing was happening. She left. That’s all there was to it.”

  She studies me for a moment. I can tell she’s sizing me up, deciding whether or not to believe me.

  “If you were so set on fucking the memory of me away, why didn’t you go through with it, Jesse?”

  I told her the truth. “Because I knew it just wasn’t a good idea.”

  She gives it another few moments, and then looks up at me. “Okay,” she sighs, “I believe you. It’s the trust we’ve talked about, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, baby, it is.”

  “Let’s go get a shower.”

  Chapter 33

  God, I feel like such a bitch. I can’t believe I grilled Jesse the way that I had, but the thought of his dick being inside anyone else drives me crazy. He’s mine. I’ve claimed him and any bitch that tries to trespass will face my wrath. That’s just how I feel. Nobody rides Jesse’s cock but me.

  My instincts tell me that everything he told me is the truth. And while I hate the idea that he was tempted to find some stranger to fuck, I can understand his mindset at the time.

  We shower together and I watch as Jesse massages my baby bump. He talks to the baby a lot; and he tells me how he can hardly wait until he, or sometimes he says ‘she,’ gets here.

  Afterwards, when we’re in bed, Jesse takes me into his arms and holds me close, gently peppering soft kisses on my face and neck. He removes the nightgown I had just put on, and gently presses me back upon the bed. He hovers over me, his eyes filled with passion and lust; the perfect combination for tonight.

  He lowers his head to my body, his mouth giving my face soft, butterfly kisses, his hands gently massaging my shoulders, totally relaxing me and I would’ve sworn there was no tense muscle or nerve in my body, but then h
e knows me better sometimes than I know myself. I move beneath his hands, relaxing and savoring his every touch on my skin.

  He reaches over to the nightstand drawer, and pulls out some warming oil that I forgot we even had. He pours a puddle of it into his palm, dipping three of his middle fingers into it and making gentle, circular massaging movements with the oil. He starts at my neck, moving to my shoulders, and then to my chest.

  He dips his fingers back into his palm, getting more oil on the pads and starts back on the swell of my breasts, and then underneath before moving to the center, and pulling and tugging at my nipples with his oiled fingertips.

  His lips lower to the crests, and his mouth opens to draw in a nipple where he gently suckles it with care, moving over to show my other breast the same attention.

  “I love your breasts, babe,” he whispers. “I picture our baby suckling at them and there’s nothing more natural and beautiful as that.”

  His fingertips and mouth move lower, at a slow and deliberate pace, he’s savoring the taste of my skin and his fingers are probing the soft folds of my sex.

  “You’re already wet for me,” he says. His lips move to my sex, and he takes his time, his lips and tongue teasing and lapping, placing open mouth kisses on my heat, and then his fingers spread the folds, to allow tongue and digital penetration, slow and methodical.

  I moan with pleasure, and he murmurs against my soft skin about how good I taste, and how he can’t get enough of my sweetness.

  Instinctively I arch my back with the pleasure, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, turning and curling them, brushing against the special spot inside and I moan deeply.

  “I need to taste you,” I say to him, so he slowly pulls from me and I’m pushing him back against the mattress, straddling his hips as my lips and tongue find his, tasting myself on them.

  I move lower, peppering him with kisses; over his muscular chest, firm flat belly and finally, I’m between his legs, and my hand finds what it wants, allowing my lips and tongue to take over.

  I love the feel of Jesse in my mouth. There is something so primal and sensual when I do this. He has been my teacher in this, patiently guiding me in the ways to orally please him. There’s been no other for me, and I claim him hungrily and urgently now, knowing just how powerful I am when here.

  I trace my tongue up and down, and he murmurs for me to take it all and I do, sucking and licking, my fingers putting gentle pressure on his scrotum until he groans with pleasure, lifting me up as if I’m weightless, and placing me on my back, next to him.

  “I need to be inside you now, baby,” he rasps. I nod, and watch as he straddles me, his cock in one hand, and his other hand spreading my legs apart as he takes his position between them. I lace my arms around his neck, pulling him in as he thrusts himself inside my slick pussy, possessing me, owning me and I moan with his fullness.

  He moves inside of me with slow and methodical strokes, inching out, and then powerfully thrusting himself back inside of me. His lips are teasing mine, and as our lovemaking heats up, my legs are wrapped around his hips tightly, my heels digging into his muscular ass.

  “You fit so perfectly,” I say. “This is so perfect.”

  “Are you mine?” he asks, his voice husky now.

  “You know I am,” I whisper against his full lips.

  “Is this mine?” he persists.

  “You know that it is,” I reply, my tongue teasing his.

  “I love you so fucking much,” he says on a groan, and his hips are rolling now. I can hear the wetness between us.

  His arms are braced on either side of me as he raises up a bit, and the corded muscles on his arms and shoulders are bulging as he rests his upper body weight on them, his lower torso gyrates, allowing the head of his cock to hit that engorged sweet spot deep inside of me.

  Over and over again he rocks into me, our breathing escalating, until I know I’m there, on the brink of orgasm, and I want him with me.

  “God, I’m so close,” I murmur, bucking up against him harder.

  “Come on baby,” he croons, “Let’s do this together.”

  And that is just what I needed to hear to push me over the edge, making way for the electric waves of pleasure that start at my core and spiral me into this chasm of ecstasy alongside Jesse.

  “I love you, Jesse,” I say softly, my eyes looking into the depths of his. “I love you so much that it scares me.”

  Chapter 34

  Whew! That had been close!

  Okay, so understand this—I did nothing wrong and you all know it! So, if you are all going to get all judgy on me, then riddle me this? What possible purpose would it have served to divulge the identity of the woman as being her friend Shayla? Nothing happened.

  So you see, I did the right thing. I mean, come on? Those two haven’t talked in months. After all, September still talks to Brandon like they’re BFF’s, but Shayla? Nope. As far as I know, she hasn’t talked to her at all since we got back together.

  School is out for the summer. Scout is playing ball, and September usually takes her to the games, and then I meet up with them as soon as I get off work.

  God love my little woman. She’s so big with her pregnancy, but damned if she still doesn’t look totally delectable to me. She has a month left until “Junior,” as we’ve been calling the baby, gets here.

  We’ve not agreed on names…yet. However, September is quick to remind me that since she’s the one going through all of the pain and misery of childbirth, her choice will trump mine. So, I pretty much figure she’ll be naming the baby. I don’t care, though. I’m just so fucking happy to be having another child, especially one with the woman I love.

  The nursery is done. All in pale yellow and mint green—September says they’re neutral, non-gender colors. I’m fine with it. I simply love the fact that she’s thrilled with it and spent so much time and effort to make sure everything was coordinated perfectly.

  So, everything is going well…perfect, as a matter of fact. Everything is in it’s place, and all there is left to do is wait for the arrival of our baby. We’ve gone to birthing classes, and Scout has been the resident coach when I’m not around to make sure September practices the different levels of breathing.

  Life is good. I have no worries.

  Until today, that is.

  I’m heading over to the bleachers, running a little late for Scout’s game, but some unexpected issues with the job we’re working on downtown surfaced and I had to stay to resolve them.

  I notice, as I cross the grassy field, that there’s someone sitting next to September in the stands, in short-shorts and a tank top.

  Oh for fuck’s sake…it’s Shayla!

  My heart thuds. Why the hell would Shayla be at a kid’s summer league baseball game? I paste a smile on my face, hoping it passes my interrogating wife’s radar.

  “Hey,” I say, climbing up the few steps on the bleacher to take a seat next to September, “What’d I miss?

  “Jesse,” September says, her tone admonishing, “Can’t you even say ‘hi’ to Shayla? You do remember her, right?”

  Is this a trick fucking question?

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I apologize, “Hi there, Shayla. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes,” she croons, “It certainly has been. How are you doing, Jesse?”

  “No complaints,” I reply. Fuck her if she doesn’t think I have her number. I did nothing wrong. Unlike her. “Do you have someone here?” I ask.

  “Oh…yeah,” she says, “My nephew, Landon, is playing.”

  “Landon?” I say, “Landon—now that would be your sister’s child?”

  I don’t miss the quicksilver dagger I get from Shayla.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “I think September mentioned you had nieces or nephews, didn’t you, hun?”

  Now, September is shooting me a look, probably because she’s still trying to keep Shayla’s secret.

  “Hell, I don’t know,” I s
ay, “Maybe I have you mixed up with the other girl in your crowd—what was her name?”

  “Missy,” September offers. “Well anyway, Shayla and I have been catching up. She loves my ring,” she says, holding her hand out again to admire it. “She wants to host a baby shower for me, Jesse.”

  “Nice,” I reply, “That’s really nice of you, Shayla. I’m happy that September has a friend as close to her as you.” I stare a hole through the girl, and she gets it. I have no worries that she will attempt to stir up any shit.

  “Yeah,” she replies, “September is a great friend.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I reply, turning my attention to my wife, and giving her a soft kiss on her lips. “Hi baby, how’s Scout doing today at bat?”

  Three weeks later, September is finishing up laundry. True to her word, Shayla hosted a last minute baby shower for her. She’s been showing me every tiny tee shirt and these things called onesies that she got at the shower.

  “Why did you wash everything?” I ask, “I mean, shit, it’s all new isn’t it?”

  “Seriously, Jesse,” she replies, giving me an eye roll. “You don’t put unwashed clothing on a newborn baby. It could have chemicals on it from the factory and, hell, since most of it comes from China who knows how it was packed during shipment.”

  “Sorrrry,” I say, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. “Where’s Scout?”

  “Oh, she’s over at Catherine’s. Casey bought one of those big blowup swimming pools and they’re cooling off in it.”

  “Damn, that sounds tempting,” I say, and then realize too late it probably wasn’t a wise thing to do.

  “Well go right on over. I’m sure Casey will fix you some sweet tea and rub oil on your back,” she snaps, folding the last of the baby clothes and placing it on the stack.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart. It’s just hot. I’m going to turn the air up.” I make a quick exit because, I know in the June heat, September is miserable. Just this morning she practically cried because she can’t see her feet anymore.