My Way Series: Books 1-3

by H. J. Bellus

  Saved by the sexy pirate. Holy shit, Milly looked completely sated and a wee bit wobbly on her legs. I thought it was taking them a long ass time to suit up. Milly was dressed up as Wendy and Cree as Hook, so that left Mac as Peter Pan. Wendy looked like Hook just bent her over sideways and fucked her senseless.

  Cree had a smear of chocolate on his face and a Snicker wrapper clung to the side of Milly's head. These two could star in the music video for Sex and Candy. Yo! Ho! Ho! Thank God for the pirate, because slut bags Milly's mind couldn't be further from tutu drama. Tripp picked up on the couple's situation and gave Annie a wink and a promising smile.

  Cree scooped up Tinker from Tripp's belly and placed her next to the sleeping Peter Pan to take pictures. Even Olive was dressed up as Mr. Smee and placed in Annie's lap. Cree posed his kids perfectly as Milly snapped her camera. Cree also jumped in and posed in a couple shots.

  I loved my camera and taking pictures. It had been my one and only friend for years. Hiding behind the camera and seeing the world from a safe place was a drug for me. It felt surreal to see life through a lens where no one could hurt you, and everything was at a safe distance. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t touched my camera since meeting Tripp. He was my lens. My harbor. My shield. Tripp snuck up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, resting on Meatball.

  “Shit, Lace, I thought my pants ripped. These fuckers are tight, and I’m pretty sure my balls are turning blue,” Tripp said as he thrust himself into my ass.

  “Easy, stud! I don’t want any other woman seeing my Ken’s naked ass since you’re comando!”

  “Only for your eyes, skanky Barbie.”

  “I love you, Tripp. Thanks for being my lens to life.”

  “Lacey, come take a pic of all of us,” Milly demanded.

  I took Milly’s camera from her, and she made her way to the counter in the sexiest Wendy outfit I have ever seen. She kissed the sleeping Mac and started to fluff Annie’s tutu.

  “What the hell? Your tutu is missing a piece…” Milly proclaimed.

  In unison, without missing a beat, Tripp and I blurted out, “No, it’s not.”

  It’s official: we are going to make fine parents. Watch out world.

  After all the family photos were taken, Annie strutted her shit up and down the counter in her very own fashion show.

  Twenty minutes later, with one mysterious piece of tulle pulled from my slutty dress by my very pissed thunder cunt BFF, we were all settled in position. Tripp, Cree and Greyson took Annie and Mac. Milly and I stayed behind to pass out candy at The Shop. Willow was missing in action. The girl had been scarce lately. Halloween at The Shop was always special for Milly and I. She met the love her life in The Shop, and finally talked to him on Halloween, in front of the building. I also told Milly all of my secrets that night. This year it was my Meatball, Milly and me.

  Milly and I sat on her bench in front of The Shop. Each of us had a ginormous bowl of candy placed on our crotches.

  “Jesus, Lacey. Captain and I had the hottest sex while getting dressed. Like, mind blowing, change-your-life forever. You know, sometimes I find myself tearing up or losing my breath at the thought of never meeting Cree. Sometimes it gets so bad I spin into a full blown anxiety attack.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you would have ended up a crack whore and knocked up by Old Man Jenkins,” I giggled.

  Milly elbowed me in the ribs and then laid her head down on my shoulder.

  “I love you now and forever, Princess,” she taunted with complete sincerity.

  “Hey, Milly May, what do you call knocked up Barbie with candy up her dress?” I asked.

  “What? A sticky tramp?” she guessed.

  “Nope! Your best fucking hoochie, you dumb hooker,” I laughed as I pulled out two banana Laffy Taffys from my dress, that were nestled in my panties, melting to the perfect body temperature. I flashed Milly the two bright yellow packages and she squealed like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “What do you say?” I taunted.

  “Trick or Treat, Barbie.”

  ***

  We finally all met up at the bonfire. Tripp knew better and had a buffet lined up on the blanket for me to dig right into. Cree started to empty Annie’s candy bucket to examine all of her candy for anything suspicious. Annie’s eyes became the size of saucers when she noticed her dad sorting all the fun size Snickers into one pile, you could literally see the steam rolling out of her ears. The little ninja was going to take a stand. Tripp was standing near the edge of the blanket, scarfing down a prime rib sandwich, when Annie stood up and went over and kicked him right in the shin.

  “Soldier, you have lost sight of the battle. I mean really, thanks a lot for nothing, Unky,” Annie spit out as her tears finally came flowing down.

  There wasn’t crying in baseball or tutu ripping, but there sure as hell was crying in Snicker stealing. Annie was exhausted and straight up pissed off at her dad, and now her Unky. By the time Tripp registered what was going on, Cree had a nice heaping pile of fun size Snickers he was going to eat for dinner. I swear the man lived on peanuts, chocolate and the gooey filling. Leave it to my prince charming to save the day.

  Tripp cannon balled his ass onto the blanket, sending candy spraying everywhere. Cree’s bandana and eye patch landed in my nachos.

  “What the…” Cree started to say.

  Tripp bent down and whispered something in his ear, and then the fight was on. Annie lifted her head up from her lap when she heard the commotion from the two dill weeds. Her little face was puffy and red from crying. Annie had been quite the trooper in the transition of becoming a new sister, but she still had her meltdowns. Tripp had Cree in a headlock and was pretending to nail him in the stomach with his fist.

  “Tink! Tink! This is your chance to save mankind, one Snicker at a time. I have this dirty pirate pinned. Go! Go! Go!” Tripp yelled.

  Annie bolted from the ground and went to grabbing all the Snickers, leaving behind the suckers, tootsies and taffies. The rest of us cheered her on, and as soon as her little hands filled up, she started shoving them down her top. At that point Milly and I high fived each other and then added a fist bump. She made us proud, real proud.

  “I got em’ all, Unky,” Annie screeched.

  Her hair was frazzled and missing a bow, her makeup was smeared from streaks of tears and her tights were ripped from grabbing the candy. Our Tink was a complete hot mess, but one thing was shining bright, and that was her smile.

  Tripp kept Cree pinned down to the ground, with little effort, I might add. I couldn’t resist pointing that fact out to Milly.

  “General TinkNinja, how are we going to keep this pirate at bay?” Tripp asked.

  Annie just shrugged her shoulders and clutched her Snickers to her body.

  “May I suggest the neck wrench, or the kick to the face, since you are wearing a tutu,” Tripp suggested.

  Annie marched over to her dad and Tripp. Tripp scooted to the side, so Annie could plop down on his chest. Milly, Greyson and I started chanting “neck wrench, neck wrench.” Cree pretended to shake with fear, waiting for his punishment from the TinkNinja.

  Annie just simply leaned down and kissed her dad.

  She sat up, put both hands on her hips, very Milly-esque I might add, and let him have it, “Dad, I want my Snickers. You always steal them and it’s not fair. You know this is a free country. Then when Mac gets older, you two will both be stealing my Snickers and I will never get one. You twos will gang up on me and it will never be fair. ’Cause you are always saying he’s your boy. I’m a girl and want my effin’ own Snickers.”

  All eyes shot to me when effin’ flew out of her mouth. What was the big deal, she used it correctly and to her dad of all people, but doing the adult thing I mouthed “sorry” to everyone. Annie just earned a new title with that meltdown. She was now the proud owner of Mini Milly. Boy, did that girl sound like her mother. Nobody was expecting her answer, and I could even tell Tripp was
choked up and ready to go buy out the local grocery store for Annie. Cree scooped Annie up off the blanket and went on a walk with her. He was the best dad ever, and rest assured he would have little Tink’s Snickers phobia under control in minutes.

  Tripp was spread eagle on his back, recovering from the trauma of the meltdown when the music started playing under the canopy and the dancing started. Being knocked-up Barbie and all, I decided to make my way over to him and straddle his mid-section.

  “Jesus, Barbie, your dress is a little short to be doing that,” Tripp said as he lifted his head and made sure my ass was safely tucked away.

  I noticed an envelope slide out of his pocket. It was clearly addressed to him, so I pointed at the envelope and raised an eyebrow. Tripp grabbed the crinkled envelope and forced it back down in his pocket. I went to ask about it and he simply shook his head. It was not up for discussion whatever it was, and I wasn’t going to push the issue.

  “Just living up to the name, Ken,” I said as I bent over and kissed his nose.

  “You’re such a slut,” Tripp whispered and slapped my ass.

  As he slapped my ass, “Ice Ice Baby” came blaring from the speakers, and a case of lightning diarrhea struck. I shot off of Tripp as fast as possible, grabbed Milly and sprinted for the dance floor. We even snagged Annie on the way. Us three girls let that dance floor have it. At one point Annie was dancing on top of a tall speaker and Milly was on the stage, and I was giving my slutty dress a real work out. I caught Tripp and Cree watching us on the edge of the dance floor with the biggest shit eating grins plastered on their faces. This song was just for us girls. We would pull their happy asses out here soon enough. I knew Milly would have to request “Somebody Like You” before the night was over.

  Letter #5

  Meatball,

  It’s time to celebrate…it’s official: I don’t have the pukes anymore. I can eat and not worry about losing it! Here’s a checklist of my faves:

  Candy: Swedish Fish (straight reds)

  Food: Chicken Tacos (sitting in your daddy’s lap)

  Drink: Diet Mt. Dew (daddy doesn’t like me drinking it)

  Dessert: Lemon Bars

  Your dad still reads to me every night from our pregnancy book. He loves reading your list of developments each night, and I even catch him rubbing the list with his strong hand and a huge smile plastered on his face. Oh yeah, and today I had to do the hair pony tail holder trick on my jeans. I’m refusing frumpy maternity clothes. We have to rock this shit, girl! I’m not above wearing a bikini the rest of this pregnancy.

  Love, Momma

  Chapter 22

  The End

  Lacey

  “Momma, what do you want for your birthday?” Annie asked, as her and Tripp sat cross-legged on the floor playing UNO.

  I was plopped in Cree’s recliner in my nappy yoga pants and Tripp’s hoodie with a bag full of Skittles watching my family. No worries, because my perfect pot belly made the best shelf for candy storage. Milly was lying on the floor with her legs perched up in Cree’s lap, while baby Mac was belly to belly with her blowing raspberries on her nose. The more raspberries that flew out of his mouth, the more laughter he got from his mom and pops. It was downright disgusting, but heartwarming at the same time.

  Cree was armed with green nail polish and was painting Milly’s toes. Ever since the two dated, her toes were always green, or a combination of green and yellow. Every once in a while Milly would jerk her foot away, which made Cree flash his panty dropping whites at her, and say “Quit begging, Dolly.” Who knew what those two were up to. They took freaks to a whole new level.

  “Just dinner with our family, baby girl. That’s what I want,” Milly responded.

  “Basagana?” Annie questioned.

  Seeing that Annie was distracted, Tripp took a peek at her cards. He wasn’t cheating, rather trying to end the torture. Annie was a ruthless shark when it came to UNO, dragging the games out for eternity. She had two cards left in her tiny hands. “Yellow,” Tripp mouthed to me, and then shot me one of those ‘I want in your panties’ winks. Tripp played a Wild, changed the color to yellow and let Pistol Annie take the win. Annie’s victory dance followed on the coffee table. She leap frogged her little buns onto the couch next to Cree, and grabbed Milly’s other foot and started painting it hot pink.

  “Annie, what do you think you are doing?” Cree questioned her.

  “Dad, slow yo’ role, nothing gets between a girl and the color pink,” Annie said, waving the dipstick to the polish in front of her face for added drama princess effect.

  Milly and I giggled at the little hoochie in training. Cree didn’t look as impressed with Annie, but Milly’s continued fit of giggles derailed him from his fatherly speech. He gave Annie a nod of his head and the duo went to painting Milly’s toes.

  Tripp made his way to the recliner, scooped me up, and settled back in with me on his lap. His hands always went straight to Meatball. I loved feeling his strong hands on my bouncing, growing belly. Tripp picked up one of baby Mac’s bottles from the table and then proceeded to tell me he was going to teach me a lesson.

  “You see, Lace, milk needs to be the perfect temperature for the baby. Too hot and it could burn the baby’s mouth and throat, and cold milk might give the baby a belly ache…” Trip explained all of this when a stream of breast milk shot from the bottle and splattered on my face and continued to dribble down my neck.

  The douchebag just sprayed Milly’s tit juice all over my face. Cree instantly erupted into laughter, Milly craned her neck to see what was going on and Annie pointed out to me that Mac’s milk was all over my face.

  “Tripp! I. Can. Not. Believe. You,” I spit out in rage.

  “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tripp said in between laughing like a raging idiot. “Baby, I’m sorry. I was just trying to show you.”

  “Let me go, now,” I demanded.

  “No, stop. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry,” Tripp pleaded while still laughing.

  “Oh, you’re sorry? So sorry that you can’t quit laughing over the fact you just showered me in milk? Not just any milk, but the milk extracted from best friend’s boob?” I questioned.

  Tripp leaned down and whispered into my hair, “Baby, I’m sorry. It was an accident. A funny one, but an accident. I’m sorry, pretty girl.”

  Fine! If he wouldn’t let me up then he would wear it with me. I grabbed the ragged edge of his hoodie, pulled it off, wiped down my face and neck and then shoved it in his face. Asshat! Let’s see if he finds a stranger’s titty juice smeared on his face funny. She wasn’t a stranger, but titty juice was titty juice.

  Milly and Cree took the kids upstairs to tuck them in. Those two idiots were still laughing, too.

  “I know you’re pissed, but I still love you,” Tripp whispered.

  He then grabbed me by the hips and lifted me to face him. Trip grabbed my face in his hands and started to kiss me. I’m a dirty hooker, so I let him. I was still mad, and he was still in trouble, but I let him kiss me. I never turned away or denied a kiss from my husband. Before I knew it, Tripp’s hands were up my shirt skimming trails across my back. I was primed, ready and going in for the kill, and that’s when I heard Milly.

  “You are such a slut. Go home and do the nasty on your own furniture or I’ll spray you with milk straight from my boobie,” Milly said, as she grabbed both of the sisters.

  Moment ruined. Thank you, Milly. Seeing the horror on my face, Cree cut in on the conversation.

  “It’s okay, Sis. Soon, actually in a few short months, you’ll be able to pay these two back,” he said, pointing at the two asshats in my life.

  “And anyway, my boy just sucked her dry. It takes her a good thirty minutes to reload.”

  I secretly loved it when Cree called me Sis. He shortly started calling me that after our corn dog bonding moment when Milly had been beaten by the Bastard. Cree always made me feel like I fit in. I wasn’t born to fit. And I damn sure branded my body and att
itude to not fit in, but Cree never accepted it. I was born to fit in his little family.

  Milly returned armed with Cree’s favorite beer. She not so gracefully tossed it to him as she plopped down on his lap. She had the whole couch to sprawl out on, but chose his lap. I guess I didn’t have much room to talk, considering I was spread across Tripp’s lap facing him. Look at us, just a couple of dirty hookers with the loves of our lives firmly planted underneath them. By the looks on all of our faces, similar thoughts were playing out in our all of our minds.

  Breaking into the silence, Tripp piped up. “So what’s the fun plans for tonight? A movie, game, or strip poker again?”

  Holy hell! Not strip poker again. Last time, I ended up buck naked and trying to hide under Tripp’s hoodie that kept getting yanked away by my asshole friend, Milly. Milly had barely managed to keep her undies on, but somehow the two douches we were married to remained fully clothed. Definitely cheaters! Milly and I googled strip poker rules the next day and they definitely were cheaters.

  Beating me to it, Milly said, “Oh, hells to the no, big boy. You two are a bunch of ruthless-ass cheaters. I’m in the mood to ride.”

  Oh, dear baby Jesus, we were in for a show. I could tell by the look on Milly’s devious face.

  “Yes, I’m going to ride Cree like Sea Biscuit,” she continued as she began vigorously bouncing up and down on Cree. Her legs sprang into action, spurring at Cree’s calves. Oh, poor Sea Biscuit. Milly reached back and grabbed Cree’s trucker hat off his head and placed it sideways on her head as she continued to molest poor Sea Biscuit with her grinding and bouncing hips. It was quite the show. Tripp and I couldn’t contain our laughter, which only provoked the horny rider. She was riding the shit out of Sea Biscuit.

  Tripp’s phone pierced the air, cutting into our laughter. He pulled it from his pocket, and I noticed my picture on his screen with the word “mom” scrawled across the screen. What the hell was his mom doing calling him? Tripp declined the call and another goofy picture of me blowing a giant bubble covered the screen. He was constantly taking pictures of me to save on his phone. Every contact on his phone was assigned a picture of me. He was such a stalker. Even Meatball was in some of the pictures. My favorite was a picture of Tripp and I kissing, with his ball cap twisted sideways hiding a portion of our faces. It was mysterious and hot at the same time, and I found myself staring at that picture during work more and more. If I wasn’t so effin’ stubborn, I would have quit my job and stayed plastered to his side.