by Tara Brown
“Sucking up will get you nowhere.” I pull off my clothes and climb into the bed.
“Whoa.” His eyes widen.
I glance down at my belly where he’s staring. “Whoa.” It’s popped out in the last day. “I think it’s all the extra breakfast.”
“I think it’s sexy.” He sounds confused by the statement.
“I don't.” I lie on my side in the blankets. “And I think this bed is trying to kill me.”
“Yeah, it was mine when I was little. It’s awful.” He climbs on and wraps himself around me. “God, I missed you last night.” He leans in, smelling my neck and placing a soft kiss.
“I missed you too.” I turn over, staring at him and kissing his nose. “I want to start over.” What Carson said to me is bugging me. “I want to let you in and be whole again.”
“I want that too.”
“Last night I was sleeping and all night I dragged myself across the bed, feeling for you. I ended up sleeping sideways because I couldn't find you in the bed.”
“You did?” He smiles.
“I did.” I wrap my leg into his. “I want you to move in, to the Hampton house. I want to be there permanently. Me and you. And I want to decorate the baby’s room.”
He sighs, snuggling into me. “And reveal on the cameras?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll live with me but you won’t marry me?” He cocks an eyebrow. His eyes are filled with hurt.
“You haven’t asked me right.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my ring, the one I gave him back, and lifts it up so we can both see it. “I have done everything wrong throughout the entirety of us knowing each other. I was in love with you when we met, and I should have been upfront about it. I should have told you how big it was. How certain I was of who you were to my heart. I should have made certain that from the moment we met, you never doubted how I felt.” He pauses and my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
I hold my breath as he stares at the ring and then me.
When he speaks his eyes and lips speak the same story. “Sami, I’m so in love with you, I don't even know what to do with it. When I took you to the hilltop altar, I intended to propose and I got scared. I got scared you would be the one with the common sense in this and see it was too soon. And we weren’t enough yet. I wasn’t enough. I chickened out and went with my backup plan. And now, here in the bedroom where I grew up, where I feel the safest in the entire world, I am giving my heart. This ring was never nothing. It was never fake. It was always as real as my love and intentions, I just didn't want to scare you. And my love hasn't changed, only gotten stronger. Something I suspect it will do for the rest of my life.”
“Yes,” I whisper. It’s all I can say. It’s all I have. My chest is a rock, frozen in tense emotion. My stomach aches with the tears lodged in my throat, burning each breath.
“Yes?” He blinks, confused.
“Yes.” I hold out my left hand, letting him put the ring on my finger. It feels weird on this hand, it means so much more.
His eyes widen and he kisses my hand, my face, my lips, my forehead. He’s lost his mind.
I stare at the ring and wonder how it’s possible we still ended up here, getting engaged on a shitty mattress in a farmhouse with his grandma probably listening at the door.
“I love you. I love you so much.” He’s still freaking out.
“I’m not getting married fat. Or pregnant.” I finally manage to speak almost normally after swallowing it all down.
“Okay.” He laughs and kisses me again.
We sigh at the exact same moment, fading into each other.
Chapter 33
Sugar Momma
July 6, 2016
Natalie
The barn is stuffed with people.
“This place is terrifying,” Sami shouts at me over her drink of water.
“They all know how to dance. It’s like a TV show or a movie where they can all do this dance like they've been practicing.”
Matt, who’s different down here, struts over to Sami. “Come on.” He takes her hand and I catch the sparkly ring on it. It’s the one from before but it’s on the left hand now.
He drags her away before I can say something. I turn to Brady who’s laughing with Carson at Lori dancing with some girl. “Did Matt propose to Sami?”
“I don't know.” He shrugs. Carson does the same.
When the song ends, everyone stands and waits for the next one. Sami gives me a nervous grimace. It makes me laugh to see her on a dance floor like this.
“She’s gonna die.”
“No way, man. Matt’s an amazing dancer.” Brady sips his beer. “Betcha didn't know that.”
“I didn’t.” I scowl and watch as the song comes to life. It’s upbeat and fast-paced. I expect Sami to fall, but instead, she twirls and slides to the side, being danced across the floor. Matt controls the entire dance. It’s actually quite hot to see. “Can you dance?” I ask Brady.
“Fuck yeah.” He grabs my arm and drags me to the floor before I’m ready for it. He spins me, forcing my body to move in ways I didn't know were possible. His hand slides into my back, and the other takes my hand, pausing us, and then shooting us across the floor too.
Everyone spins and dances, jerking to a stop and then twirling and waltzing in this odd way. It’s unnatural and I feel like I might fall but I don't. I dance to the song the way Brady makes me do it.
It takes me two songs before I’m laughing and enjoying myself. Sami’s already there as Matt sweeps her around, getting her to dance impeccably.
Our dance lessons from when we were kids definitely help. I know how to waltz, which this is essentially that.
Brady’s a two-stepping god too.
When the fourth song ends and he spins me and pulls me into his arms, I sigh. The next song is slower. He holds me tight to him, dancing slowly and catching his breath.
“You gonna be all right if they’re engaged again?” He has a worried and inquisitive brow.
“Yes.” I say it meaner than I intend to. “I mean, of course.” I sigh. “I think so.”
“I love you.” He laughs and holds me to him. “Just stop worrying about her. She’s an adult. I’ve never met friends who meddle in each other lives the way you and Sami do.”
I part my lips to defend us but I can’t.
“Don’t even.” He laughs, lowering his face to mine and kissing softly. “You know it’s true.”
“I know.”
When I glance their way, Sami and Matt are slow dancing too. She’s got her eyes closed and is resting against him. The look on her face says it all. I don't think I need to worry about her anymore.
Whatever coming down here meant to them, it’s fixed things.
“Hey, so speaking of you and Sami, is the condo you bought done?” Brady asks.
“Yeah, why?”
“I was thinking we could move there, instead of paying rent to someone else, we could live there and pay your mortgage.”
“There’s no mortgage.” I laugh. “The company just bought it for me.”
“Okay, then we just save money.” He’s so blue collar.
“While I love that you want to be that guy who lives in the kinda crappy area and saves money, I don’t want to live there.”
“What?” He scowls.
“I don't. It’s not near the park or Sami and I don't like the building. It’s good enough for the show but—”
“Holy shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re a rich snob.”
“No.” I want to defend myself, but again, I can’t. “It’s not like that.”
“Holy shit. I never imagined you were actually a little princess. But you are.”
“Then I guess it’s lucky I make my own money, so you still have to respect me.” I challenge him.
He laughs. “I guess I do.”
“And since I now make more money than you, I think you might have to call me Sugar Momma an
d do whatever Sugar Momma wants.”
His eyes narrow. “Do you know how much I make?”
“Yup.” I grab his hand and pull him off the dance floor to the side exit of the barn.
“Nat! Where are we going?” he shouts.
“Shhhhh.” I lift a finger to my lips and drag him out into the parking lot. I open the door to the limo and climb in.
“Nat?” He climbs in too, giving me a confused smile. “Baby?”
I don't say a word. I just sit back, pulling my dress off, revealing a matching red lacy strapless bra and underwear set. I fold my right leg over my left, keeping my heels on.
He gulps, closing the door. “I see. Do I seriously have to call you Sugar Momma?”
“No.” I uncross my legs, spreading them for him. “It’s creepy. It sounded fine in there with the hillbilly music, but here it’s weird.”
He locks the door to the limo and presses the lock on the partition between the driver and us and checks the sound.
“The drivers are in the barn.” I grin.
“Well then.” He leans toward me, leering at my bra. “This is a nice set. It must be new.”
“It is.” I lick my lips.
“Pity I have to ruin it.” He springs to life, crossing the space between us and running his warm hands up my thighs. He doesn't trace gently or linger. He slides his fingers straight up into my underwear, yanking them to the side and burying his face between my legs.
I moan as his lips land on me, covering me in heat as he sucks my clit into his mouth. He slides a finger into me, slowly until I move against him.
The music from the barn is loud enough that his fingers move to the beat of the drums.
I arch my back as his mouth leaves my underwear and moves up my stomach to my bra. He drags it down aggressively, freeing my nipples. His finger going in and out of me keeps up with the beat of the song as he sucks in one of my nipples, doing laps over it with his tongue while his other hand rubs my other one.
It’s intense and fast, but I orgasm before I’m even ready for it. He doesn’t let me recover. He unzips and slides his cock into me roughly, forcing my ankles up to his shoulders so he can use them as leverage. He thrusts in, grunting and rotating his hips.
I cling to the seat, lifting to meet his drives.
“God damn!” He groans, sitting back and pulling me with him so I’m riding him on the opposite seat. He grabs my ass, working his cock with me.
I sit back as he takes my nipple back in his mouth, delicately biting the end, making me groan with him.
I slump forward, which he takes as the cue to smack my ass. It’s never quite hard enough, but I like it when he does spank me as he forces me to bounce off his balls with his thrusts, until he finishes with a cry and several violent jerks.
We fuck.
It’s almost never soft and delicate, and always savage and aggressive. It’s not something I want to talk about; he calls it a freak flag. I don't want to think about it.
But in the sweaty heap, we both become, huffing breath and clinging to each other, I know he’s the first person I’ve ever felt this comfortable with.
We cling to one another, finishing in gentle rocks.
“God, I love you,” he mutters weakly.
“You do?” I ask softly.
“With my entire heart and soul.” It’s as cheesy as he gets, which I like. No, I love.
Chapter 34
Fire and Brimstone
August 26, 2016
Sami
Wandering the halls of the castle, I notice a slight ache in my right hip. It’s been bugging me for a couple of days, since the flight over.
“So I was wondering, when you do eventually pick a date, will you take my last name?” Matt nudges me softly.
“Oh my God, why do you have to keep asking me these random questions?” I huff my breath.
“Because I love you and I want to send Christmas cards that are cheesy and say things like ‘The Brimley’s,’ instead of the Ford Brimley’s or Sami and Matt who can’t actually pick a name.”
“Christmas cards?” I stop and stare at him, lost. “Dude, remember when Liz said it was time to pop your balls back out? This is that moment.”
He sighs impatiently. “I have to have something for the corporate Christmas cards, Sami. My balls, which are hard and blue, are perfectly fine. Apart from the fact they’re constantly getting iced to stop the throbbing.
“I told you I want to do it.” I can’t believe this is the conversation we're having in the middle of my parents’ castle as I’m inspecting the final details for the wedding in a few hours.
“I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t. It’ll be like I’m touching the baby with my—I can’t.” He shudders and I roll my eyes.
“Oh my God, this conversation is getting redundant. I won’t have this conversation with you again. The doctor told you, you don’t actually touch the baby.” I spin and give him an angry glare. “And I am done with you not putting out.”
He laughs and scoops me into his arms, carefully. The way he does everything. He kisses my neck and takes a deep breath. “Since we’re already sort of fighting, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s not negotiable. It’s getting done.”
“What?” I glance at him.
“When he’s old enough I want him to go to Gran’s and work the farm.”
“Oh.” I pause, not sure if I agree or not. “Why?”
“It makes a man out of you. No offense, but I don't want my son to grow up to be Carson or William. The whole socialite thing is not awesome.”
“Okay.” I contemplate it again. “I guess, yeah. I don't really care, but you have to go too. You can’t just send our city kid to a farm and hope he lives. That machinery was intense.”
“I will.” His tone suggests he’s less than impressed by the comment.
“Speaking of Carson,” I pause in the hall and lower my voice, “how long has he been in love with you?”
His cheeks flush and his eyes widen. “A while.” He doesn't deny it.
“Did something happen between you guys?”
“Yeah,” he replies like it’s the hardest thing for him to say. My insides tighten as he recoils a little. “He tried to make out with me once. I was drunk as fuck and sort of hit him.” He glances down, ashamed. “I apologized but I felt really bad for a long time.”
“When?”
“We were fifteen. Maybe.”
“Is that when you got the name Brimstone? Hitting him?”
He laughs. “No.” He covers his eyes and tilts his head back. “Charles called me that when I was a kid. I used to force him to take me to fun places. All these road trips to random places. Like Tarrytown and weird historical spots.”
“Tarrytown?” I mock him until he gets the stoic expression again. “Sorry, continue.”
“Anyway, I have a bit of an irritable bowel. I can’t handle fast food. We didn't know. So we’d do regular guy things, like hit McDonald’s and Burger King. And I’d eat all this junk before we had to go home. And we’d be like hours from home and I would start feeling sick. My stomach would tighten and I’d fart the entire ride home. So Charles nicknamed me Brimstone. I always smelled like rotten eggs. The first time the guys heard him call me that, they laughed and the name stuck. I don't think any of them even know the story.”
“Farting? This is like finding out Santa’s not real. I had all these stories in my mind, why Brimstone. I’d romanticized it a little, obviously. But farting?”
“Yeah.” He laughs harder. “It’s dumb.”
“It’s disgusting.”
“What? I can’t help it. My stomach doesn’t tolerate fast food.” He pulls me in and kisses me.
The problem with going half the year not having sex is that the kiss always ends up being too much. I slam him into the wood paneling and force my tongue down his throat. But he doesn't stop me. He pulls me into him, surrounding me with his body.
I spin, dragging him with m
e. He doesn't protest as we enter my mother’s old parlor room that she had redone in traditional style. The dank castle isn’t normally how I like to spend my time in England, but it’s a perfect wedding site for people who don't know castles are stinky and haunted and damp.
His eyes are wide, desperate and scared at the same time.
I don't care how scared he is. I need him.
I close the door and click the old-fashioned lock.
“It’s just us and the ghosts,” I whisper.
His lips part to negotiate, I can see it all over his face. But he doesn't. He sighs. “We go slow. You on top.”
“Fine, but you're a pussy.”
“Noted.” He rushes me, cupping my face and kissing me with six months’ worth of desperation.
My movements are violent and hurried but he counters with soft and sweet. I rip his shirt right off. He drags mine down slightly, kissing my shoulder. I go to my knees, dragging down his pants and eagerly wrapping my hand around his cock, taking as much into my mouth as I can, he gently rubs my head, running his hands through my hair.
When he finally starts thrusting, and pulling at my hair a little, I get up, pushing him back to the sofa. He lands bare assed on the velvet, making me laugh. “My mom would have a stroke if she saw this.”
I drag down my underwear, not even taking off my shirt or skirt, and straddle him.
His hands run my thighs, brushing against the skin, leaving fiery trails where he touches. I kiss him, distracting from the fact I’m rushing, I’m needy. I’ve been a horny mess for two months, but he won’t even let me near him.
Until now.
I don't know what’s changed, but I almost thank God as the head of his cock spreads my lips apart. He inhales sharply as I do when I lower down on him, taking it slowly, one inch at a time.
I go as far as I can, realizing I’m as nervous as he is when our eyes meet. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes lit up and scorching.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He starts to rock slowly, watching me for reactions.