by Penny Wylder
“I trust you. It just might take little while to trust him.”
We get to the drug store. I have a sudden craving and grab a handful of sour candy. She buys three different tests to be sure the results are reliable. I think she’s more nervous about this than I am. There’s more silence during the drive back. Once we’re home, she hands me the tests and I go into the bathroom. I take them all at once and wait.
After five minutes the results are ready, but I’m afraid to look. I want this with Deacon. I really do, but I don’t want my mom to be pissed at me either. I just want everyone to be as happy as I am.
Taking a deep breath, I pick up all three sticks and look at them at the same time. My muscles are tensed up, neck and shoulders achy. I stare down at the sticks in disbelief. Two pink lines on one, a plus sign on the second, and a boldly worded ‘Pregnant’ on the third. There’s no doubt now. I’m pregnant. I can hardly breathe. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest. I’m terrified and yet I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Suddenly I’m wondering what a child made by me and Deacon will look like. Beautiful, I imagine. Like Deacon. Like Bailey. Blond hair, green eyes. A dimple in his or her chin like me maybe, or high cheekbones like their father.
Will it be a boy or a girl? What will we name him or her? All these thoughts race through my head at once until I feel like I might pass out. Now to tell my mom …
She’s waiting outside the bathroom door, pacing. She picks at her eyebrows, something she has always done when she’s nervous. She barely has any left and has to draw them on. She sees me and her eyes open wide. “Well?” she says.
I hold up the sticks and burst into happy tears. “I’m going to have a baby!”
She starts to cry too. “Oh my god,” she says. But instead of cussing or saying something that might break my heart, she smiles and says. “I’m going to be a grandma.”
We hug, both of us melting into tears. “What do you think Deacon’s going to say?” she says when we come apart.
I wipe away the mascara rolling down my cheeks. “He’s going to be really happy, Mom. I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”
She smiles, her eyes red and watering. “I trust you. I know you’re a smart girl and wouldn’t rush into anything unless you were absolutely sure you knew what you were doing.”
“Thanks Mom,” I say and hug her again.
Now to tell Deacon.
I’m twisting my hands. They’re sweating. I feel like I’m going to pass out. Deacon will be happy. I know that. But I’m still afraid. This will drive a wedge so far between him and Sam that I don’t know if that relationship will ever recover. I don’t want to be the one responsible for ruining a family.
But he has to know. And soon. This isn’t something I can keep from him.
I go next door and ring the bell. Sam answers. He rolls his eyes when he sees me, but stands aside to let me in. There are boxes stacked up all over the living room. Bailey is in her playpen next to the couch.
“What’s going on?” I ask, a tinge of fear ringing through me. Someone has obviously packed their belongings to move and I doubt it’s Sam.
Deacon comes down the stairs. He looks mad at first until he sees me. His face relaxes into a gentle smile.
“What are you doing here?” he asks in a way that lets me knows he’s happy for the surprise.
“I need to talk to you.” I wave my hands around, pointing at all the boxes. “What is all this?”
“I found a place of my own,” he says.
I didn’t even know he was looking. If he has a place of his own that means we can finally spend as much time together as we want, make as much noise as we want while having sex. Hell, we can walk around naked if we feel like it. There won’t be anyone around to judge us or tell us what we can and can’t do.
“This is all your fault,” Sam says, glaring at me.
“How is this my fault? I don’t even know what’s going on,” I say.
“Sam is just being a dick,” Deacon says, tossing a gym bag on top of the pile of suitcases stacked up by the door.
“We didn’t start fighting until she came into the picture,” Sam says.
Deacon snaps back, “We wouldn’t have started fighting had you minded your own business. What I do with my life has nothing to do with you. You’re a control freak. You get off on it.”
“No. I care about what happens to my brother.”
Deacon shakes his head. “You care about getting your way. If you cared what was best for me, you’d see that I was happy for the first time in a long time and Remy is what’s best for me.”
“You’re wrong about me, Sam,” I say, unable to stay quiet any longer. “I love Deacon. I would never do anything to hurt him or our kids.”
They both turn to look at me, their brows furrowed similarly. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen any kind of family resemblance between the two of them. “Kids?” Deacon says. “As in more than one?”
I cradle my belly protectively when I see the angry look on Sam’s face.
“I found out this morning,” I say.
“You’re sure?” Deacon replies.
Sam opens his big mouth and says, “See, I told you she was trouble. She went and got herself knocked up so you’re forced to stay together. You’re trapped now, man.” He gets this smug look on his face like he’s waiting for his brother lose his shit, but instead, Deacon’s smile stretches across his face and he scoops me into a hug, his laughter filling the house. Bailey responds with a happy squeal.
“We’re going to have a baby?” he says. Tears fill his eyes.
Seeing his tears brings tears of my own. I nod my head, unable to get words around the emotion in my voice.
He turns to Sam. The pissed off, soured Deacon has been replaced by someone jovial. Someone who looks about to explode with happiness. “You better behave at our wedding, brother,” Deacon says.
“Wedding?” Sam says.
Wedding? I think. He hasn’t even officially proposed yet, but it’s exciting none the less.
“Can you take Bailey while I finish loading my bags into the truck?” Deacon says to me.
“Of course.” Bailey holds her arms up when she sees me walking toward her. I lift her up and settle her on my hip.
When Deacon leaves, I’m stuck alone with Sam. The room fills with an awkward silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I can’t take it anymore. “I wish you would give me a chance before you start comparing me to Deacon’s ex. That’s not fair. I really want my child to know his or her uncle. I want us to be a happy family.”
He stares at me so long it’s like his face has frozen that way. Just as I’m about to ask if someone had turned the lights off in his head, he looks down at the carpet. “You mean that? Because Karen was always trying to get between me and my brother right from the beginning. When I bought this house from Deacon, she tried getting him to sell it to me for far more than they paid for it. She was a snake. I’ve always wanted a relationship with my brother. When he moved in with me, I thought that’s what I was going to have with him. Until now …”
“I would never try to get between brothers. I’m an only child. I’ve always wanted siblings. Karen was a horrible person, but I’m not. I would love to have a brother in law.”
He sighs. “I want that too.”
Deacon comes back in the house. “You ready?” he asks me.
“One second,” Sam says.
“No, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you berate the mother of my—”
Instead of letting Deacon finish what he was about to say, Sam walks up to Deacon and gives him a hug. When Sam steps back, Deacon looks as though Sam had struck him, arms out, mouth hanging open. “What …”
“I’m happy for you,” Sam says. He looks at me. “For both of you. If you need help moving into your new place, let me know.”
Deacon’s brow furrows, again looking similar to Sam. “Um, yeah, actually I could use the help.
”
“I’ll help too,” I say.
“No way,” Sam says. “You’re not lifting a finger. Not while you’re growing my niece or nephew inside of you.”
Deacon looks at me in shock and shakes his head. “Thanks, Brother,” he says.
When we’re in the truck, Deacon shakes his head. “Are you some kind of sorceress or something?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Or maybe a surgeon.”
I laugh. “What on earth are you talking about?”
He pulls into a nice older neighborhood lined with weeping willows. It’s the kind of neighborhood one would feel safe raising a family in. Lots of sidewalks for children to run and play. To stroll along with a couple of babies. There’s a small park on the corner and bicycle trail. I’ve always dreamed of living in a neighborhood like this.
“How did you get that stick out of Sam’s ass when I’ve been trying my whole life?” Deacon says.
I smile. “Sam is a good guy. He just wants a relationship with his brother and I told him I’m going to make sure he gets it.”
“You really are the best.”
He pulls the truck into the driveway of a large house painted light gray with darker gray trim and a red door.
“Wow, is this it?” I say, excited. It’s a beautiful home with a manicured lawn, a huge flower garden, a towering oak with a tire swing out front and fruit trees on the side next to the driveway. I can picture us sitting on the porch with iced tea in the summer, watching Bailey play in the yard while I nurse our newborn. This is my dream.
“This is it. I think you’re going to love it,” Deacon says.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, “but it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your house.”
He gives me a strange look. “It’s your house too. You’re moving in with me.”
I don’t know why this shocks me. Of course we’ll live together, I just didn’t know he meant us to live together so soon. Leaving my mom alone in that big house makes me sad, but at the same time I’m ready to start my own family, have my own house, and make my own memories. I think the reason she never had the men that she dated over to the house was because she was afraid of them intruding on our little family. But now that I’m not there she can start having some fun. She won’t have to worry about me anymore. Maybe this is best for the both of us in the end.
“I love it,” I say.
He hands me a key with a key ring that says ‘hers.’ He lifts up his own key ring that says ‘his.’ I throw myself into his arms and squeeze the air out of him.
This is our home. Our beautiful, perfect home.
It takes a couple weeks before we’re completely settled in the new house. I wanted to give my mom some time to adjust before just shipping out. Now that she’s used to the idea of me being gone, and encourages it, I’m excited to start staying with Deacon and Bailey.
Over the last week we’d been painting the nursery. We went with a mint for a neutral color since we don’t know yet if our new baby will be a boy or girl. We haven’t decided if we want to know the sex at all until the delivery. I always thought it was kind of fun when people didn’t know. The biggest surprise of one’s life. Except I don’t know how long I will hold out. I already want to go shopping for little outfits and there aren’t enough cute baby stuff in neutral colors for me to get excited about.
It’s my first night sleeping in the new house. After all the work and decorating we’ve done, this feels like my reward. My mom volunteered to keep Bailey overnight so Deacon and I could have some much needed alone time together. Once this baby comes, and since I’ll be breastfeeding, it’ll be impossible to sneak in time for just us.
After dropping Bailey off, we go inside the house. It still smells like fresh paint.
“It’s so quiet in here,” Deacon says. He walks up to me, rubs my belly. It’s sort of a new obsession with him, always touching it, rubbing it like a crystal ball that might reveal his future if he looks hard enough. His hands slip up and over my sensitive breasts. “Should we fill it with your screams of pleasure?” he says.
I close my eyes and lean back against him, marveling in the feel of his touch. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Everything about my body is sensitive right now. Hyper-aware of Deacon’s touch. In fact, just the other day, he gave me an orgasm just by breathing on my clit. It was incredible. I’ve heard that can happen during pregnancy, and I also heard there might be a stretch of time when I won’t feel like being touched at all. So right now, while my body feels as though it’s tripping on Ecstasy, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
I lift my arms for him to slip off my dress. It’s gotten cooler out so I’m wearing boots. Those are difficult to unzip so I take them off myself while he strips out of his clothes. We’re both far too turned on to worry about the ceremony of the slow striptease. We just want to see each other naked.
He’s already fully erect. There hasn’t been a time yet where he hasn’t been after talk of sex. I’ve always heard older men—even men in their thirties—need a little encouragement down there from time to time, but not Deacon. He’s a stallion and always ready to go.
I kneel down on the floor before him, taking his huge cock in my hand and suck the head into my mouth. I love the taste of his pre-come. I was afraid that was one of the things that would change when everything else about my body changed, but not at all. If anything, it tastes better. Sometimes I even crave the taste of cum, and I suck him off every chance I get.
His cock barely fits in my mouth. Good thing I have a big mouth and know how to breathe through my nose while he stuffs it in.
“Look at me, baby,” he says, as he holds the sides of my head, spearing himself into my stretched throat. He likes me to look him in the eyes while he fucks my mouth. Our eyes lock, tears streaming down my cheeks as my mouth spreads to accommodate his mass.
The faster he thrusts, the more I tear up. Drool spills from the corners of my mouth. With him so far down my throat, it’s impossible to use those muscles to swallow.
He pulls out suddenly and I wipe my wet face with the back of my hand. He then lifts me up by my armpits and hauls me to my feet.
“On your hands and knees,” he says. He’s so demanding when he’s turned on, the opposite way he acts toward me in our regular life. I love how he takes charge, flexing authority.
I never question him anymore when he demands something of me during sex because I’ve grown to realize I enjoy it all. Some things more than others, but there hasn’t been a single thing he’s done that hasn’t given me the best orgasms of my life.
Once I’m on all fours, he stands behind me, lifting my backside into the air until I’m standing on my hands in a vertical 69 position. I can’t reach his cock from this angle with my mouth, but he has perfect access to my pussy. My legs are up in the air, spread apart. I’m flexible and can do the splits, so I’m able to spread them far. He makes the sexiest sounds when he’s turned on. Deep, masculine sounds of approval when he sees my open pussy that only turn me on more.
He holds my waist while he buries his face in my wet cunt, not leaving any of my skin unexplored.
Blood rushes to my head as he digs into my wet depths with his tongue, drinking from my well. When he sucks on my clit, it’s not just sucking, but a combination of lipping, sucking, and biting. It’s some sort of secret recipe of lip action that, if he were to share it with the rest of mankind, could probably change the world into a better place.
As much as I would like to stay like his forever, my arms get weak and start to buckle. He notices and lets go so I’m able to do a sort-of cartwheel back into a standing position. As the blood leaves my head, I’m dizzy and feeling a little euphoric. He lifts me into his arms, doing all the work when he sees me start to sway. I love that he knows my body so well.
I wrap my legs around his waist like in my adolescent fantasies of him carrying me away, and we go into the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and turns
me onto my side. He enters me from an angle. The closet doors of our room are mirrored so I’m able to see every bit of what’s happening. If it were up to him, we would’ve had mirrors on the ceiling as well. Can’t say I would be terribly opposed to that idea, but you know, with having kids in the house and family coming over on a regular basis, it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. Sam would’ve had a heart attack if he ever witnessed something like that. He’s such prude. I have a feeling missionary is the only trick up his sleeve in the bedroom.
At least if anyone decides to come over and goes into our room, the closet doors can be explained away with vanity. The hope chest of sex toys we’ve started to acquire would probably need more of an explanation had anyone peeked inside. We keep a padlock on it just in case.
Watching Deacon drill into my pussy from the mirror is like watching a porno. It’s a side of myself I’m not used to seeing. Not to brag or anything, but I really do have a nice-looking pussy. With his perfect dick it’s a lovely sight, the way he stretches me open. And it’s a major turn on watching it. At first I didn’t like reverse cowgirl all that much because I couldn’t look at Deacon’s face, but now that we have the mirrors, I see it all. It’s when I really started to notice just how large Deacon’s cock actually was. Whenever he’s all the way inside of me, and then I slowly lift up, it seems like his dick never ends.
While he pounds me from the side, I lift my leg for a better view.
Deacon smiles and talks into my ear, his voice choppy and breathless with his efforts. “You like looking at that sexy pussy, don’t you,” he says.
“I like watching you fuck it.”
He lets out a long desire-filled groan. “I love it when you talk dirty in that cute little voice of yours.”
I giggle and twist enough so that I can kiss him.
He pulls out of me and I feel suddenly empty inside. He rolls over, onto his back. “Ride me,” he says.
I climb on top of him and sink down, feeling that pressure of the head of his dick pressed tight against my cervix. Then I start to bounce. I’m riding him. Jackhammering. The slap of our skin as it connects, my moaning, his grunting, the heady scent of our lovemaking, fills the room and makes my head swim with pleasure. God, pregnancy sex is amazing. All these hormones raging through me, these new sensations I’ve never felt before. It’s like discovering sex for the first time all over again.