Finding Our Course: Collision Course Duet

by Ahren Sanders

  I try to clear my head and gain some sense of control. It’s useless as she rotates her hips then drives into me from below, forcing me so deep she moans in satisfaction.

  “Look down, Bryce. Tell me what you see.”

  “Fuck, Devon, stop.”

  “Tell me,” she demands.

  I lower my eyes and then take her wrists, placing them over her head and holding her down. “Me, inside you, as far as I can go. Your fucking pussy sucking me in so hard I want to pound into you.”

  “What’s stopping you?” She throws her legs around my waist, and her green eyes shimmer with lust and longing. She’s challenging me to see how long I can hold my control.

  I concentrate so hard my heart thunders in my chest, but she’s too sexy for me to fight anymore. My hips surge into her hard, earning a throaty whimper. That alone causes me to lose my mind. There is nothing tender about the way I thrust back and forth. She squirms under me, trying to free her hands, and I give in, loosening my hold.

  She surprises me by using all her strength and twisting our hips so I fall to the side and then to my back. She straddles me with a wide grin and then stops moving, running her fingers over my chest, down my stomach, and then over her own thighs. One hand braces on my abs while the other reaches behind and cups my balls.

  It’s my turn to thrash as she starts to move. The rocking motion is in rhythm to her hand squeezing, and I have ten seconds to make a decision. I knife up with all the strength I can and grip her neck, crushing her mouth to mine. My hips shift, and I close my eyes, praying she’s close.

  She doesn’t disappoint and shoots off at the same time the orgasm rips through me. We swallow each other’s cries as I pump into her. She flexes hard, and I’m pretty sure I come again from the friction alone.

  We hold tight, regaining our breath, as I caress her back and kiss along her neckline.

  “Good morning.” She smiles against my shoulder.

  “Da-da-da-da-da,” sounds through the room, and I look at the video monitor to see our two-year old baby girl standing in her crib, swinging her stuffed bunny.

  Devon moves off me, but I tug her back and slip the covers over her. “We’ll get you up for breakfast.”

  Her face fills with a look of love that I’d give anything to see every minute of the day. “Thanks,” she whispers and buries her head into my pillow.

  I pop into the bathroom, pull on some shorts, brush my teeth quickly, then grab the box out from under the counter and put it by the sink.

  When I get to Emma’s crib, she squeals and gives me a toothy, slobbery grin. Her eyes glimmer the same shade as Devon’s, and my heart clenches. She’s a clone of my wife in every way except for her dark hair. I change her quickly and put her down, watching her waddle until she breaks out into a run.

  Her little voice fills the house as I follow closely, knowing exactly where she’s headed. As soon as she finds the closed door, she sits and looks at me expectantly. I walk quickly to the kitchen, get her milk and the baggie of cheerios, and then go back to her.

  The second the door opens, she bolts to the oversized leather chair and crawls up. I scoot her in my lap and give her the first round of breakfast.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes until she raises her eyes to me, giving me the sign. It’s time.

  Ever since Emma could crawl, she loves to be in Devon’s office. We started a small tradition about six months ago. On the Saturday mornings I’m home, we sit in the office together, and I tell stories of all the pictures on the wall. This isn’t the only room in the house covered in frames, but it’s the room Devon spends most of her time in, so she’s lined almost every inch, including her desk, with photos of our life.

  “Want to start at the beginning, little angel?”

  She screeches her reply.

  “This is your mom and me our first Christmas together.” I pick her up, take her to the wall, and point out Devon and I in Aspen. My mind travels back to that day and thinking she couldn’t get any more beautiful. But she proved me wrong through the years.

  I go through the motions of pointing out every detail to the squiggly baby in my arms.

  Devon’s graduation—both of them—and all the pictures of family surrounding her.

  My first deployment, when the whole crew came, and Quinn snapped a shot of Devon holding me so tightly I felt like she crawled into my skin.

  Devon, Crystal, Quinn, and Shana at the Olympics with the Gold Medal winning gymnastics team. All their smiles are so big, you’d think they won the medals.

  The news crew covering the return of my ship into port. The cameraman getting the perfect shot of Devon running to me as I braced for the impact.

  Devon and Shana in the hospital with Shana’s newborn son in her arms.

  Quinn and Devon at Quinn’s wedding the week after Grad School Graduation.

  All the girls at Crystal and Morgan’s wedding in Jamaica.

  Devon’s first nationally recognized article on the US families affected by terrorism.

  Devon and Quinn’s first award–winning piece on child prostitution rings.

  All of us at Nate and Jamie’s wedding three years ago.

  Quinn and Dean holding their son.

  When we get to the eight by ten frames hanging over the fireplace, I stop and take Emma’s little hand and point.

  “That’s your mama and daddy on our wedding day.” Then I turn. “And this, little girl, is the day you were born. Look at that princess.”

  My eyes get misty at the portrait of the three of us in the hospital bed. Emma was so small and wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket.

  “That’s also the day I lost my mind because I agreed to name you Emma Quinn. But when your mama looked at me with tears in her eyes, full of so much love, I’d have agreed to anything.”

  Emma giggles and slaps me playfully.

  “Okay, little one, we need to brace. Your mama is going to get up any second, and when she sees the present I left on the bathroom counter, she’s going to flip. So I think we should start the French toast now.”

  I sit Emma in her high chair with some cut up bananas and hurry to get Devon’s favorite breakfast ready. Emma and I both go still when the shout roars through the house.

  “BRYCE DAVID RANDOLPH!”

  “Oh yeah, I’m in trouble. Stick with me, baby girl.” Emma spits and wriggles excitedly at Devon’s voice.

  “What the H-E-L-L is this?” Devon waves the box at me from the kitchen doorway.

  “Babe, we’ve used them before,” I say seriously. We should buy stock in those little sticks after the dozen Devon used with Emma.

  “Don’t be cute. You used to give me diamonds and pearls. Now, you give me pregnancy tests?”

  “It’s really a formality. I already know the answer.” I shrug and plate the toast.

  “How can you possibly think you know more than me when it comes to my own body?”

  I hang my head and debate how far to take this. When I peek back at Devon, it’s undeniable. Even aggravated, she’s glowing.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Absolutely!”

  I go to her and lean into her ear, shielding Emma. “Babe, your tits are so sensitive they’re always hard.” I run the tip of a finger over one to prove my point. “This morning, the second my tongue circled your nipple, you moaned with pleasure and pain. The last two days, you’ve let me fuck you everywhere, practically begging for it. We left a dent in the bedroom wall. Then, this morning, you took control and rode me so hard I came twice.”

  “Oh my.” She braces on my chest, and I can tell she’s turned on again.

  “See, you’re ready to go at just my words.”

  Her eyes lock with mine, and she clutches my neck, rubbing a thumb over my jaw. Understanding washes over her face. “Are we ready for another baby?”

  “Been ready since we left the hospital with Emma. And when it’s confirmed, we need to start looking for that house you mentioned.”

&n
bsp; “House?”

  “When I was in a coma, I remember you mentioning three kids and a Victorian home.”

  “You heard that?”

  “I’d like to think I heard everything.”

  “But if you’re right, this is only baby number two.”

  “What if it’s twins?”

  Her face pales, and she runs to the bathroom, slamming the door. I set the table and wait for her to return. Emma babbles and shoves the small pieces of the toast I just gave her into her mouth, clearly loving it as much as her mom.

  “So how exactly can we explain that you managed to get me pregnant while I’ve been on birth control?” Devon states, holding the white stick between her fingers. The two bright pink lines are visible from across the room.

  My heart and stomach flip with the confirmation, and I stalk to her, picking her up so she’s forced to wrap her arms and legs around me.

  “Not that it’s anyone’s business, but we can say it’s planned.”

  “Quinn will know I’m lying. She knows everything.”

  “Can’t a husband and wife have any privacy?”

  She gives me a pointed glare and raises her eyebrows.

  “Babe, you forgot your birth control pills when you went to Alaska. We know we want more children. Fate decided on the timing. Well, fate and the fact that I can’t keep my hands off you.” I squeeze her ass to emphasize my point.

  “What about my assignment in Japan?”

  “We’ll see if it’s safe to go. If so, you and Quinn can still cover the story.”

  “Nate’s going to think we did this because you’re jealous of Tyler.” She refers to our newborn nephew.

  “I’m not jealous of Tyler, but what’s wrong with wanting a little boy? However, I’d be thrilled with another little girl.” I nuzzle into her neck and inhale, smelling the faint hint of her perfume.

  She relaxes into me and then leans away, positioning our faces to watch Emma, who happily waves at us chanting, “Ma-ma-ma-ma.”

  “We’re going to have another baby.” Her voice softens.

  I back us up until her ass hits the counter and then I slide my hands to her stomach, placing soft kisses all over her face.

  “The very first time I heard the words ‘I’m pregnant,’ every single thought that ran through my head terrified me. There wasn’t one ounce of excitement or joy. Once the shock wore off, I knew I’d love that baby with all my heart and bust my ass so he or she would have anything they desired. I could only hope to always do the right thing. When the baby didn’t make it, a part of me has always held on to guilt because of my lack of enthusiasm.

  “But when you uttered the words to me with Emma, a thrill shot through me so deep I knew I’d never recover. Knowing you and I created a life together filled me up to the point of bursting. I’ve lived with that happiness for almost three years. Give it to me again.”

  She threads her hands through my hair and lays her lips on mine. “Bryce, I’m pregnant.”

  Tingling sensations fire off inside, and I swallow back the urge to shout to the top of my lungs and beat my chest at the same time.

  “Thank you, baby. I’m living the same fairytale, right by your side. And as far as I’m concerned, we’ll live it forever.”

  Emma squeals loudly, Devon cries softly, and I hold on tight, listening to my girls. In this moment, I know the best decision I’ve ever made was to get on that plane all those years ago and go after the love of my life.

  Acknowledgements

  A huge thank you goes to my family for once again allowing me to pursue this job. It was quite a shock when my novella turned into a full-blown novel, but no one blinked an eye and instead encouraged me to keep the story flowing. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the endless support.

  There’s a team of ladies that deserves enormous recognition for all they do to keep my spirits alive, keep me laughing, and over-all, keep me sane during crazy times. Sloan, Amy, Vi, Cory, Emily, KK, Evette, Leigh Ann, Christine, Stephanie, Kathy, and Gina- thank you doesn’t seem nearly enough to say. My gratitude runs deep.

  Lisa, thank you for answering my pleas for help and getting me on track. I’m sure there were moments you wanted to pull your hair out, but I think we’ve got this now- promise.

  FTN Chicks, you are all over-the-top, crazy as hell, and insane in the best way. I’m honored to be a part of it.

  This never would be where it is without the work of Amber, Rosanna, Amy, Leigh Ann, Rebecca, and Evette. Thank you for the time you invested in reading the raw edition and assisting me.

  Evette, your professional knowledge is a life-saver!

  Ahren’s Angels, Love you ladies.

  There have been a lot of early morning and late night calls, texts, and messages that have grounded me. You know who you are, and I’m grateful from the bottom of my heart.

  Kendra, thank you for the patience you always show me. I know you cringe when you see my messages, but I appreciate your work.

  For anyone I missed, I suck. Please forgive me.

  To all the bloggers who have been supportive and promoted my work, you are greatly appreciated. I know how hard it is to manage a blog and all the social media that goes with it. You all handle it with ease and professionalism with endless support to Indie Authors. Thank you!

  Meet the Author

  Ahren spent her formative years living in an active volcano. There her family made collectible lava art. She studied rock collecting at the Sorbonne in France. There she met the love of her life-her pet pig Sybil. She returned to the states and started writing. She is happily married to a guy who used to live under a bridge and she met while pole-dancing.

  Now, meet the real me. I grew up in the south and consider myself a true “Southerner”. Most of the special locations mentioned in my books are reflections of my favorite places. Living on the Florida coast, my family spends a lot time at the beach, which is where I usually can be found with a book in my hand.

  For more information on my books, please click here: Ahren Sanders

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