by Josie Wright
Turning to Dave, I’m about to strangle the idiot. “Was there a bigger purpose in asking me that other than making my life harder?”
His amusement is loud and clear in his voice when he answers. “Yeah, but this unexpected turn was way more fun.”
I flip him off, but he ignores me and continues, “Well, she’s pregnant. And you won’t believe who the daddy is?”
Frankie suddenly sits up straighter, the opportunity of some good old-fashioned gossip catching her interest. “Who?”
“Leo. He won’t be hunting virgins anytime soon.” Dave looks smug with the news, and thankfully Frankie seems to have forgotten her irritation with me for the moment.
Dave isn’t done yet with stirring shit up, though. Not sure if he has too much pent-up energy or hasn’t gotten laid in a while, but when he announces he not only brought gifts from their parents, but also a package for Frankie and Archer from Drake, I consider locking him out of the house. Curiosity gets the best of me though. I want to know what, and even more so why, that fucker is sending anything to Frankie.
I look at Frankie when I ask Dave, “Drake, the biker?”
“Yep, he told me to give her a Christmas present. Hold on, I’ll get them.”
What the fucking hell? Why is this stupid asshole sending her presents, sending my son presents?
I stare at Frankie, waiting for a reply, but she just keeps looking at Archer, only occasionally glancing my way.
“Drake, your ex?” I finally ask, wondering if they are still keeping in touch besides that stupid birthday message she left him. If so, I might break his fingers so he can’t text her.
She shrugs at me. “I guess so.”
Dave brings the box in and I watch as Frankie unpacks it, the need to know what’s inside nearly makes me jump out of my seat. I don’t want him sending Frankie gifts. It’s stupid, I know. But damn, he was the first one who got to touch her, got to be inside of her—as Dave and I learned overhearing one of her phone conversations back in the day. That alone makes me want to launch him into outer space. I can’t hold back the growl that’s trying to escape. It doesn’t get better when she pulls out a plush motorbike.
“Awww, he sent a toy for Archer. How sweet.” She stands up to walk over to Archer, but I grab the damn bike out of her hands. No fucking way in hell is my son going to play with something that dickhead got for him. Then again, why is he getting him something? Feelings of jealousy and doubts start to bubble up inside of me, no matter how unfair they might be. What if Frankie met up with him before our night? What if Archer—no, it can’t be. Archer looks like me. And Frankie isn’t the type. I’m an asshole for even thinking it.
“Why is Drake giving things to Archer?”
“Chill, Ben. I ran into him at the mall over Thanksgiving when I was out with Archer.”
“Do you still talk to him, babe?”
“Oh, you jealous?” Fuck yeah, I’m jealous. Especially remembering her birthday message to him. I glare at her, my jaw tight enough to make my teeth crumble.
“No, I hadn’t seen him in forever before the run-in at the mall. No reason to get your panties in a twist.”
Thank fuck. I breathe out, some of the tension leaving my body, ignoring Dave’s stupid remark about me forgetting to beat my chest and grunt.
Wondering what else is in the box, I sidestep Frankie and look into it. The tension that just left is back full-force, every muscle taut. Jealousy and fury are racing through my veins when I take out a bra. A fucking bra.
“What the fuck?” I look at Frankie who only shrugs at me before fishing a note out of the box. After a quick glance, she hands it to me.
I was cleaning out my house and found this. If I’m not mistaken, it’s yours. Thought you might want it back.
Red clouds my vision as I clench my fist and scrunch the note up in the process. “Fucker. I’m gonna hang him by the balls.”
I don’t care that they used to be together. This is my girl and the proof of him having seen her naked makes me want to do gruesome things to him.
“Dramatic much? It’s not my bra. You should leave the violence and bloodshed to the boyfriend of whoever’s bra this is.”
I blink a few times, allowing her words to reach my brain. Instantly, the wind is taken out of my sails. I throw the bra back in the box and fall back onto the couch.
“I don’t like the guy.”
“I know, babe. I know.” Frankie pats my thigh reassuringly, but I can see the way she presses her lips together, trying to hold back laughter. It’s not funny. This woman is making me stupid—I’ve never been jealous about anyone except her. It’s not a fun feeling and it makes me wonder how she handled it with all the girls I was parading around.
***
Everyone is already in bed when I lock the doors, turn off the TV, and head upstairs to Frankie’s room later that night. We haven’t really talked about sharing the room yet, but after all the talk about her ex and my conquests, I want to be close to her tonight. I want to show her she’s the only one on my mind.
The lamp on her nightstand is turned on. I look around and see Archer sleeping soundly in his crib, one of his hands holding onto the bars. For a second an image of him shaking the bars of his crib and yelling ‘Let me out’ comes to mind and I chuckle.
“What’s funny?”
I turn to Frankie. She’s all snuggled up in her comforter, only a hand holding a book peeking out.
“Right now you, looking like a little Eskimo hiding from the cold.”
She drops the book onto the floor and smiles. “Well, why don’t you get in here so I can cuddle up to you.”
“Oh, I can warm you up, alright.”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t get a chance to reply because I’ve already slid into bed next to her. Pulling her close, I press my lips to hers—hard and demanding. I barely let either of us come up for air, spurred on by her quiet moans, her ragged breath, and her fingers tangled in my hair pulling me closer. I don’t want to push her. She needs to be the one to decide when the moving slow thing is over and done with. She needs to know I want her no matter what. So I’ll ignore the hard-on for now. Ignore the fact that I want to be inside of her, to feel her fall apart around me.
Instead, I make it my mission to make her forget about Drake, about all the Melanies. To erase every touch, every kiss she shared with someone else from her memory.
And that is exactly what I do long past midnight, leaving both of us breathless and wanting more.
Chapter 34
Coming Together
I’m lying on my bed, music on in the background. It’s evening and I’m relaxing after a day full of Christmas festivities. It was a complete success—from the food, to the gifts, and especially the people.
Frankie loved the pendant. She was a sobbing, blubbering mess, and I fucking adored it. It made me proud to cause happy tears for once.
Her gifts had a similar effect on me. Well, without the sobbing and blubbering, but if someone would have looked closer, they would have seen me getting choked up. I look at the frame on my dresser with a picture of Archer and me and the words Bestest Daddy In The World written on the frame. Frankie isn’t one to say something she doesn’t mean, so her giving me this gift means a hell of a lot. I might have fucked up before, but at least now I’m doing something right.
She also got me a cool leather tool belt engraved with a wolf.
I grin, thinking of all the posters and tacky shirts I used to own with wolves on them. And how I annoyed the hell out of my mom to get me a wolf as a pet.
The thought of my mom makes me sober up. I hate the fact that I still miss her, but especially now on Christmas, I can’t deny that I do. Determined not to let it spoil the good mood and this awesome day, I force myself to ignore it.
Just like I don’t let the phone call I just finished with my dad ruin my mood. Thankfully, it was short as the patients were about to sing Christmas carols and then watch It’s A Wonderful Life. Dad was em
otional, reminiscing about our time together when I was a baby, but getting sidetracked all the time and letting his anger at my mom loose. Not really the kind of Christmas conversation you want to have.
Pushing all those thoughts to the back of my mind, I close my eyes and relax to the music. I only open my eyes when I hear someone walk through the door.
Frankie takes slow steps toward me.
“I have another present for you,” she says, an envelope in her hand.
My knee-jerk reaction is to make a stupid joke, ask her if it’s a restraining order. But I think better of it.
She hands me the envelope, nervously biting her lip, her eyes watching me expectantly. I open the envelope, pulling out some papers. They look like legal documents, lots of info and small print.
“What is that?” I attempt to make sense of it, but all I see is a bunch of legal terms.
“If you sign those papers your name will be added to the birth certificate as Archer’s father and his last name will be changed to yours.”
Fuck, I didn’t expect this. I blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. I can’t believe Frankie would do this for me and Archer. If there ever was a selfless act, this is it. Not many women would do this—not after what I’ve done.
I lean over, putting the papers on the nightstand and take ahold of her arm, pulling her toward me, hugging her close.
“Frankie.”
I don’t know what else to say. I’m fucking speechless, my throat clogged with emotion. She’s making it official, for the entire world to see—Archer is my son. She trusts me, trusts me enough to make me a permanent fixture in their lives, to give Archer my name. All other gifts pale in comparison.
Instead of trying to express what this means to me with words, I hold her close. I breathe her in, feel her heartbeat against my chest, and her breath tickling my neck.
“I Need You” by Mass Undergoe starts to play, slow and sensual. As if on cue, she lifts herself up and starts kissing her way toward my lips. My heart rate accelerates, my hands grabbing her tighter. “Fuck, Frankie.”
It’s all the words I can form while trying to hold on to my control. If she still wants to take it slow, she’d better stop now.
But she has different things on her mind, judging by her sexy grin. “My thoughts, exactly.”
I don’t care if this is a Christmas miracle or not, there’s no way I’m letting this moment slip through my fingers.
I pull her closer, one hand on the back of her neck, the other roaming down her body until I reach my destination—her ass—while not breaking our kiss. She whimpers and mewls. These are the sounds I’ve been dreaming about for months.
I need to taste her, to feel every inch of her body, but first, I need her naked.
Sitting up, I remove her shirt, the sight of her in her red, lacy bra spurring me on. I kiss her, tangling my tongue with hers, fusing our mouths together. She gives as much as she takes, her kisses just as passionate, just as untamed as mine. I nibble her lip then stroke my tongue over it before thrusting back into her mouth. My cock is hard and throbbing, ready to feel her. All of her.
She rubs herself against my hard-on, her heat searing me through all our layers of clothing. She loses herself in the moment—her hands gripping my hair, pulling me closer.
Still not breaking the kiss, I move my hand to her back, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms. I want more of her skin, her warm body, and I’m not disappointed. Her breasts are a fucking revelation. I could devote hours just to them…kissing, nibbling, groping.
I squeeze one softly, covering it with gentle kisses before I turn my attention to the other one. Frankie’s movements become frenzied as she’s rocking her core against my cock, her breasts jiggling with the movement. I feel hypnotized by the motion until I hear her moan. That’s all it takes to snap me out of my haze. I growl against her chest, licking between her breasts. The taste of her skin is tantalizing; so much better than I remembered.
We’re consumed by passion, nothing else in the room registers other than her. The house could be on fire and I’m not sure I would notice.
Pleasure and pain course through my body when she runs her fingernails down my back; the tracks she leaves behind burning slightly. My cock jumps at the sensation, straining against the zipper of my jeans.
I flip Frankie onto her back, and after gently brushing my lips against hers I kiss my way down her body, pausing when I get to the waistband of her jeans. I look up at her and revel in the sight before me. Her face is flushed, her pupils dilated, and she’s breathing heavily.
“God, Ben, I need you.”
Not that I need any encouragement, but the lust and desire in her voice make me move with urgency as I shed the rest of my clothing and then fully undress her. She’s lying before me, every inch of her on display, and it’s fucking gorgeous. I tease her, kissing around her belly button and down. Her knees fall to the sides in response, the invitation loud and clear. I take my time, relishing in each moan she expels, every attempt of her to get closer to my mouth, to get more.
I move down, spreading her legs farther and my mouth closes over her clit. Slowly and softly, I circle it with my tongue, giving her body some time to adjust to the sensation, but she seems to be ready for whatever I have in store for her. Her hips lift and push her core against me. Her scent and taste are like a damn drug, and I want more. My right hand is splayed across her stomach, holding her in place, while I run my tongue all the way down her pussy and back up to her clit. Her back rises off the bed, but there is nowhere for her to go. I’m not done with her yet. Not by a long stretch.
I get lost in the moment, my desire for her dictating my moves as I lick and suck, reveling in the effect it has on her. She’s panting, swearing, and thrashing. My cock is so hard I’m worried I’m going to come just from licking her pussy.
“You taste so sweet, babe.”
She moans in reply, her whole body humming with anticipation. She’s wet, slick with her own arousal, and there is no resistance as I plunge my fingers into her. Not waiting for her to adjust, knowing she’s ready for me, I thrust them in and out. I lick and kiss her inner thigh before bringing my lips back over her clit.
She rocks her hips faster against me, her rhythm faltering, and I feel her walls squeeze my fingers. This is not how I want her to come, not the first time we’re back together. I want to be inside of her. I want my cock filling her when she tumbles over the edge.
I draw my fingers out, ignoring her protests and the glare she shoots me.
“Jesus, Ben. I’m so fucking close.” She’s out of breath, the words coming out between pants and moans and it’s a fucking heady feeling knowing this is my doing.
Grabbing a condom out of my nightstand and rolling it on, I thank God I was cocky enough to think I might eventually get to this point and am prepared.
I grin at her. “I want you to come with me inside of you.”
She watches me, her eyes never wavering as I take ahold of her hands and slide them up above her head, while lowering my body on top of her. I don’t let go, but intertwine our fingers and hold her down. She lets me take control, her hips rocking against me, while she waits for my next move.
I kiss her hard, our lips meeting in a frenzy as I thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth. I love how loud and vocal she is, her moans reverberating through the room.
I adjust my position slightly and then in one move I bury myself in her, her heat welcoming my cock.
“Fuck, Ben. Oh, God.” She closes her eyes and I don’t move. I want her to see, to feel, everything we’re about to share. I want both of us to remember every touch, every moan—all of it. We’ve waited too long for it. This time there is no drama, no despair, and not half a bottle of whiskey in my system.
Her eyes open, her lids heavy with desire as she fights to focus on me, to not let her eyes roll back into her head. I move slowly in and out, the drag and pull of our bodies making my breath falter.
We mo
ve in sync, feeding off each other’s energy. As amazing as this slow pace feels, I’m too turned on to keep this up. My hips rock faster, each thrust a little harder than the one before. I watch her bite her lip, my name a ragged moan on her lips, while her eyes stay focused on me. Her inner muscles squeeze my cock tighter, holding on to it as she finds her release; her body writhing and convulsing. Her fingers squeeze my own while the clenching of her pussy pulls me in deeper, holding me there, fueling my own desire.
I can’t hold back. I want to come undone in her. Her hips lift, meeting my thrusts.
“Fuck, I’m so close, Frankie,” I grind out, my body tense as I plunge into her.
She squeezes my cock once, twice. “Oh God, Ben. I’m going to come again.”
Fuck, this is perfect. I want her to come with me. I want us both to fall. My movements become frantic and wild, all semblance of control gone.
“Yeah, Frankie. Come for me.” And she does, crying out my name, taking me over the edge with her. I shudder, growling her name as her pussy milks my cock. Now it’s me fighting to keep my eyes open, the force of my orgasm short-circuiting my brain.
I concentrate on breathing while my body is coming down from the high. She’s running her hands over my back, making me shudder again and my cock twitches inside of her.
Lifting myself up, I look at her smiling face, blushing slightly under my intense gaze. I look at the woman underneath me. The woman who has seen me at my worst and is still willing to give herself to me. After everything, she trusts me, loves me. I can feel it with every cell of my body, and it’s time for her to know I love her, too.
I gently caress her cheek. “I love you, Frankie.”
She’s quiet for a brief second before her eyes go wide and her lower lip starts to tremble. What the hell? Did I say something wrong? Didn’t she want me to say it? It gets even worse when she laughs then sobs. Could I have been so fucking wrong in my assumption?
Noticing my confusion, she smiles at me. “I love you too, Ben. Always have.”
Throughout the time we were apart, I was hoping I’d hear her say those words again. Hearing them now puts pieces of me together I didn’t even know were broken.