“Fine black silk,” he said of her hair then laid the braid aside. Leaning over her, he buried his face in the spot where her shoulder met her neck and sighed with pleasure, closing his eyes as he settled his body beside hers.
He placed his palm to her chest, felt the steady beat of her heart, the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. Shifting himself lower beside her, he hooked his finger in the blouse’s elastic neckline and pulled it down until he revealed one soft little nipple. With infinite care, he circled the aureole with his index finger, and then ran his thumb over the sweet nub, stroking it until the flesh hardened.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Smiling, he leaned over her to claim the nipple with his lips, suckling, gently nibbling. He cupped her breast, lifting the full weight of it, then circled the sweet nubbin with his tongue. His cock leapt with anticipation.
With infinite slowness, he ran his hand down her skirt, crimped the material in his hand then slowly, slowly tugged the hem up her leg until the fabric was bunched at the base of her hips. He trailed his fingers across the satin smoothness of her thighs to the edge of the silk bikini briefs then insinuated his middle finger beneath the lace.
She purred like a kitten as he touched her, and when he slipped his finger inside her, she groaned with pleasure. Probing deeper, turning his palm upward, reaching for the mysterious G-spot, she writhed beneath his touch.
“Evil man,” she called him.
“I am a man in need,” he replied.
He withdrew his hand and rose above her, moved over, settled himself between her thighs. His cock was rigid as he ground it against her.
“How about you, my love?” he asked. “Are you in need?”
She reached up to cup his face in her hands, then brought his lips to hers. Her mouth moved over his, her tongue slipping between his lips to plunder. The taste of her, the feel of her soft flesh stroking inside his mouth made his entire body vibrate with sheer lust. She slid her palms down his sides to the curve of his hips. He tensed as her questing fingers curled between their bodies and toward his groin. She cupped his hard erection and he felt the white-hot stab of arousal quiver in his belly as he kissed her.
“As usual, you have on way too many clothes,” she said huskily.
“That can easily be fixed,” he said.
He threw one leg over hers and pushed himself to his knees. His fingers feverishly snagged the zipper down. When he peeled the waistband back, his cock jutted free of the fly.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” she said, her eyelids heavy with desire.
She reached for him—wrapping her fingers around his cock. She ran her palm down him until she could slide it beneath his sac to cup him.
“Sweet Jesus, Allison. If you…”
He sucked in a breath for she raked the tips of her fingernails along the perineal raphe of his scrotum then tickled their way to the tip of his shaft. Flexing her fingers, she circled his cock again. Her grip was as gentle as dandelion fluff, yet as firm as a handshake. She encircled his turgid flesh, alternating hands as she pulled. Gingerly, she twisted, moving her hand upward, then her fingers traveled from the swollen head to the base of his member. Her palm circled the tip of him then a delicate fingernail teased the oozing slit.
“I need you,” he whispered and hooked his fingers in the crotch of her briefs to rip them open.
“I am always here for you,” she told him.
She lifted her arms, encircled his shoulders and pulled him to her. Neither spoke as he spread her legs with his knees. He took hold of his shaft then slid deep inside her. Her sigh of pleasure glided his hands beneath her to lift her to him. She arched her back, lifted her legs and wrapped them securely around his waist, and he gave her the long, deep stroke that made her his own.
He felt her nails arch into his back, her teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder. He shuddered from the erotic sensation that soft bite caused. He increased the speed and depth of his penetration. She tightened her legs around him and met him stroke for stroke.
Sweat ran into his eyes as he struggled to keep his weight from crushing her. When he felt the first faint tightening of her inner muscles around his cock, he closed his eyes and slammed into her hard and deep.
"Drew," she cried, her cunt milking him.
He let go. The spurting of his cum elicited a cry from her that startled him.
“Drew. Wake up!”
He struggled to pull himself out of the dream.
“Drew, please!”
He shot up from the sofa—sitting bolt upright on the cushion—and felt the wetness on his cheek. He put a hand to his face then looked at Allison.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I drooled all—”
“Get up,” she said, struggling to push her awkward weight from the sofa. “Get up, get up. Get up now.”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drool on you,” he apologized.
She turned a stricken face to him. “It’s not drool, you dolt. My water broke.”
The image of a broken water main flashed across his mind’s eye and he stared at her. “What?”
“Get your butt in gear, Dunne,” Bea told him as she came stomping through the den. “Off the sofa and help your wife up. Now!”
He stood, held his hand out to Allison but was totally in the dark until he noticed the front of her maternity skirt bore a large stain and he thought she had wet herself. He blinked then caught the scent of something sweet instead of the stench of urine.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Your water broke,” he stated.
“Ah, yeah,” Bea said, rolling her eyes.
Allison gave him a duh look as well and that was when he realized what was happening.
“You’re in labor?”
Another duh look.
That one sent him running from the sofa and to the front door.
“Drew, where the heck are you going?” Bea yelled after him as he jerked the door open and tore outside.
She followed him.
“Drew?” she called out.
He was skirting the car when she yelled again. This time she added a “damn it” and he stopped.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, coming to the edge of the porch.
“What a stupid question. I’m going to the hospital,” he replied.
Bea folded her arms over her breasts. “Don’t you think you should take Allison with you?”
For a moment or two her words made absolutely no sense to him. Of course he should take Allison with him, he thought. After all, she was having his baby.
“For the love of the sweet lord, Dunne,” Bea said. “Get back in here and get your wife.”
Those words took less time to register. He felt his cheeks burning and he came tearing back to the porch.
“I’ve got to get her bags and…”
“Already in the car,” Bea said as he rushed past her.
“Call the hospital to let them know she’s coming,” he continued as he hurried through the door she’d left open.
“Already done that, too,” Bea told him.
Allison was still standing at the sofa with her hands plastered to her belly. She hadn’t moved a muscle. When he reached her, she gave him a look he knew he would remember ’til the day he died.
“What the fuck are you doing, Drew?” she demanded.
His wife never used such language and that did more to calm him down than the disbelieving look she was throwing at him.
“Want me to pick you up?” he asked. Before she could answer, he nodded curtly. “Yeah, I should pick you up. I’m going to pick you up.” He moved to do just that.
“No you’re not. Just help me out to the damned car, will you?” she snapped.
He realized he was shaking as he reached for her arm. “Watch your step,” he said. “There’s a hassock…”
“She’s in labor, Drew. She’s not blind,” Bea said from the door. “You don’t need to l
ead her. Just steady her.”
That he could do. His face flaming, he put an arm around her back to guide her through the den and to the door. He was extra careful with her as she maneuvered the four steps from the porch to the walkway. Once he got her to the car, he knew he was as calm as he was going to get. Easing her inside, shutting the door carefully, he started to run around the hood when he realized Bea was getting in the driver’s seat.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Get in the car, Drew,” she told him.
“I’ll drive,” he stated.
“No, you will not. I want to get us there in one piece. Get in the car.”
He didn’t like that. Not one goddamned bit. But other than forcibly removing his cousin’s wife from the driver’s seat where she was now sitting, he had no choice but to climb into the backseat.
Car started, in gear, rolling backward down the driveway, his whole world came to a screeching halt when Allison leaned forward and began to moan.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
Both women turned in their seats to glare at him.
“Shut up,” they both yelled at him.
Chapter Four
Forty steps to the east.
Turn.
Forty steps to the west.
Turn.
Forty steps back to the east.
Turn.
She’d kicked him out of her room with a shriek that had probably been heard all the way to Dothan. Now he was relegated to pacing.
Forty steps back to the west.
Turn.
“You are going to wear a hole in the terrazzo,” Early told him.
“What’s taking so long?” Drew asked. He looked at his watch.
Again.
“It’s been over two hours.”
Early chuckled. “Son, I hate to tell you this but our first one took twenty-three hours to pop out of Bea.”
Drew staggered to a stop. “Twenty-three hours?”
“Longest labor recorded according to the Guinness Book of World Records was seventy-five days,” Doc quipped as he fluffed the pages of the Albany Herald newspaper.
“What?” Drew gasped. He staggered back, fell against the wall, slid down it to sit on his ass with his hands clasping his head. “Oh my God, that can’t be right.”
“There was also the woman in Pennsylvania back in 2013 who had her twins eighty-seven days apart,” Doc continued. He glanced over the paper. “Eighty-seven days, Drew.”
“Sweet mother of Jesus, no, no, no, no, no,” Drew said, shaking his head. “I won’t live that long.”
“Not at the rate you’re going, you sure won’t,” his father said. “Get off the floor and come sit in the chair like a human being. Babies come in their own sweet time. Some—like Early’s—come slower. Average time is around seven hours, but twins take a bit longer for first-timers like Allison. I’m thinking between nine to twelve hours should be about right.”
“Twelve hours,” Drew groaned.
“Get off the floor,” Doc ordered. “You’re embarrassing me.” He snapped the paper shut, folded it then tossed it to the seat beside him. He stood. “I’ll go check on her.” He pointed a finger at his son. “You better be off that floor by the time I get back.”
Drew looked up to see Doc striding away.
“God’s punishing me,” he told Early.
“For what?” Early questioned.
“For hiring Mr. Smith.”
Early frowned. “Who the heck is that?”
Realizing he should never have uttered that name, Drew pushed up from the floor. He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Obviously not,” Early replied.
Bea took that moment to come back carrying a cardboard tray containing four cups of coffee. She took one look at Drew and shook her head, pursed her lips then carried the tray over to her husband. “What’s he been doing?” she asked.
“Doc told him to get off the floor.”
“What was he doing on the floor?”
“Just sitting there mumbling to himself,” Early told her.
“I wasn’t mumbling,” Drew said. He came over to the sofa where Doc had been sitting and plopped down. He shook his head to the offer of coffee when Bea would have brought his over to him. “I got a sour stomach as it is.”
“Poor baby. Giving birth is hard on you men,” she scoffed.
“You’re not funny, Bea,” Drew told her.
“I’m a little bit funny,” she countered.
“I should be in there with her,” he said.
“You were,” Early reminded him. “She yelled at you to quit hovering and get the hell out. Remember?”
Drew looked down at his hand. “She stuck her nails in me,” he said, turning his hand to look at the scratches his wife had given him.
“You stuck a baby in her,” Bea said. “Seems a fair trade.”
He started to get up, Early growled at him, Bea hissed, so he sat back down.
Doc came sauntering back. “She’s dilated four centimeters,” he reported.
“Is that good or bad?” Drew asked.
“It means she’s now out of early labor and progressing at a more rapid pace than I would have imagined. I was surprised Brent gave her oxytocin,” he said of her doctor.
“That’s a good thing,” Bea said. “And a bad thing.”
“Bad?” Drew repeated.
“The oxytocin will make the labor go faster so the contractions will get stronger, come closer together, and last longer,” Doc said. “Her pain is going to intensify.”
Drew felt the blood rush from his head and he started breathing much too fast.
“Oh, here we go,” Early said on a long sigh.
“He’s got her epidural waiting for her, Drew,” Doc said with a twitch of his lips. “He’s not going to let her suffer.”
“I think you’re gonna have to have one waiting for Drew, too,” Bea joked.
“Ain’t no need to waste money on no drugs. I’ll just knock his ass out with a good right cross,” Early suggested.
*****
Back to the pacing.
To looking at his watch.
To jabbing his hand through his hair.
Stand still. Try to ignore the four sets of eyes watching you.
“I feel so sorry for him,” he heard Rini whisper to Bea. “He’s like a trapped coon in a cage.”
“Looks like one, too,” Early declared. “What with them dark circles under his eyes and his hair standing on end like he jabbed his finger in a light socket.”
“You’re not helping,” Bea said, shushing her husband.
“How’s our girl?”
Oh, great, he thought, yet another set of eyes to stare at him.
“She’s doing okay, Miss Lillian,” Doc answered. “Dilated to seven inches. Won’t be long now.”
“It’s been eight hours,” Drew stated.
“That’s because the labor stopped for a while, son,” Doc said calmly. “That happens sometimes with first pregnancies.”
“You said labor usually lasts seven hours,” Drew accused.
“I said the average length of labor is seven hours,” Doc corrected.
“It’s taking too damned long!”
“You need to be patient, sweetie,” Miss Lillian told him.
“He don’t know the meaning of the word, Miss L.,” Early quipped.
“Least he isn’t sitting on the floor like a redneck,” Doc observed.
“You men leave the boy alone,” Miss Lillian snapped. She pointed a finger at Early. “You of all people should know what he’s going through so just stop with your tongue-wagging unless you have something constructive to say, Early Rawls.”
Early ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
A nurse appeared in the waiting room doorway. She smiled at Drew. “Your wife says you can come in if you’d like.”
Drew shot to his feet as though propelled from a cannon. “I d
o,” he agreed.
“We’ve moved her into the delivery room so you’ll need to put on a gown,” the nurse told him.
“I’ll walk in there butt-naked if need be,” Drew stated.
The nurse arched a brow. “Well, while I’m sure every woman here would like to see that, I think a gown would be best.” She smiled. “It would keep us from getting distracted by your...ah…assets.”
Drew wasn’t listening. He was all but hopping up and down wanting to get to his wife.
“Stop teasing him, Jennifer, and be about your business,” Miss Lillian chastised the nurse.
Following behind the nurse, Drew had his fists clenched—fingernails digging into his palms. His jaw was clenched tight. He couldn’t remember ever being as scared as he was at that moment. The woman he loved was about to give birth to his son and daughter. From the instant she did, his life was going to be turned upside down. He had to man up as he never had before. Watch his language. His temper. His tendency to do and say things he wouldn’t want his children to see or hear. In other words, he had to be a dad and that was a frightening thought.
“What if I don’t do a good job?” he asked aloud, unaware that he had. “What if I screw things up? Make a mess of it?”
“You’ll do just fine,” the nurse said. “Just relax. You’re about to experience one of the greatest gifts God will ever give you.” She laughed. “In your case, you’re gonna get two of those wonderful gifts at the same time.”
She pushed open a door and led him inside, handed him a soft gown to put on and told him to wash his hands before he did. Once he had donned the pale yellow gown, she turned him around so she could tie it in the back.
“Be calm. Smile and keep your voice low and soft,” she instructed. “She’s had her epidural and she’s in no pain but you’ll need to coax her when the doc tells you to for her to push.” She put a hand on his arm. “You’re gonna do good, sweetie. Just remember to breathe. The last thing we need is you passed out on the floor. Okay?”
He nodded. Suddenly his tongue was too big for his mouth and every speck of moisture evaporated. His knees felt weak and his hands were shaking as she led him into the delivery room.
A Mayhaw Christmas Page 6