When the bathwater went cold, I had toweled off and collapsed onto the bed, naked.
Pregnancy had given me a new appreciation for nudity; when clothes don’t fit anymore, the easiest solution is to stop wearing them. After my warm bath, I couldn’t bring myself to squeeze my oversized stomach and swollen breasts into a pair of pajamas. Besides: the feeling of expensive bed sheets on bare skin was too good to pass up…
In fact, the feeling was so good that I started to feel a hot tingle rise up between my legs.
I pressed my back flat against the bed and propped up my knees, assuming a position that immediately reminded me of how Josh and I had played a dirty game of ‘doctor’ in the exam room of my OB-GYN’s office.
The memory intensified the throbbing pangs of lust that were shooting through my body, and I trailed my fingers to the source: my pussy.
To say that I was ‘sexually frustrated’ would be an understatement. Even though Josh was always eager and willing to lend a helping hand in satiating my pregnancy ‘cravings’, we still hadn’t gone ‘all the way’ since that night at the wedding.
Sure, we had licked, sucked, kissed, and caressed…but for whatever reason, Josh seemed to draw the line at penetration. And even though his fingers and lips and tongue were more than enough to drive me wild and make my spine curl, I hadn’t forgotten how amazing it had felt to have him inside of me…
I was trying to recreate the way his hands had touched me when I heard my cell phone vibrate from the nightstand.
I yelped, startled, and quickly rolled up to reach for the phone. When I saw the name displayed on caller-ID, I nearly yelped again.
Josh?!
I slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call, then I held the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey you,” his smooth voice funneled into my ear from the phone’s speaker. The sound was so crystal clear, that it was almost like he was sitting right next to me, whispering into my ear…
My pussy tingled and I gulped.
“I just wanted to make sure you made it to your hotel safe and sound,” Josh said.
“I see,” I tried to resist the urge to smile, even though I knew he couldn’t see me anyways. “You’re checking up on me?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he chuckled lightly. I could imagine his lips spreading into a nonchalant grin.
“Well I’m safe and sound,” I assured him, giving into my own dopey grin. I slowly eased myself back onto the pile of pillows, relaxing.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Josh replied.
The line went silent. Neither one of us said anything; neither one of us made an effort to end the call. The hotel room was quiet and dark, and Time Square glittered on the other side of a tall glass window.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you tucked into bed, safe and sound?”
My voice sounded unfamiliar: slow, low, husky…
“I am,” Josh confirmed, matching my tone with a low, gravelly whisper oh his own.
The sound of his voice made my pussy ache for his touch. I slid my own hand down and touched myself.
“It’s a Friday night,” I said, trying to hide the strain in my voice. “What are you doing in bed? Shouldn’t you be out at some bar, doing…” my voice trailed off.
“Doing…what?”
“Doing whatever it is that hot, single guys do on Friday nights,” I finished.
Why did I just say that?! I immediately cringed. Am I trying to get a reaction out of him? Am I trying to test him?!
“I think you have me confused with some other guy,” Josh said smoothly, without missing a beat. “That doesn’t sound like me. Actually, it’s technically past my bedtime, but I had to stay up late tonight…”
“Oh really? Why’s that?”
“I had to watch some late-night talk show on TV,” he said playfully. “This girl I like was doing the makeup for one of the guests, so I figured I should check it out…”
My heart swelled and I swallowed heavily as I felt my excitement dripping out from my sensitive mound. I slipped my fingers between my lips and--
“You’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” Josh said suddenly.
“Huh? What?!” I stammered, yanking my hand away. “No I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.” I could hear the cocky grin in his voice. “I can tell by the way you’re breathing.”
Shit. My cheeks burned red and I felt like burying my face in the pillows, even though I knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Then, in a hot whisper, Josh added: “Don’t stop on my behalf, Pinky.”
“It’s not really the same,” I admitted. “On my own, I mean…”
I cringed again. Why did I admit that?!
“Tell me how you’re touching yourself,” he encouraged me. “Where are your fingers right now?”
Sparks fluttered through my skin and I felt myself start to relax again.
“Umm…” I hesitated, readjusting my grip on the phone as my other hand moved slowly back down towards my pussy. I had never done anything like this before, but I was too fucking horny to waste time on inhibitions…
“I’m so wet,” I breathed softly. “I can feel it dripping down my thighs…”
He grunted softly through the phone, and I wondered if he was touching himself, too.
“Tell me what you taste like.”
That caught me by surprise. My back stiffened and my eyes widened. Then I remembered how he had tasted me in the exam room, and I swept my fingers through the dewy moisture that clung to my inner thighs. I raised my fingers to my lips and tasted myself, the same way that he had tasted me…
“Sweet,” I told him.
“Like honey?”
I nodded silently, then I realized: “You’ve tasted me, but I’ve never tasted you…”
“You want to taste me?”
“Mhmm,” I nodded, arching my back as my insides twisted and turned.
“I want you in my mouth…on my tongue…” I pressed my fingers through my lips, imagining how I would milk him dry.
“Let’s not neglect that sweet little honey pot of yours, Pinky,” he reminded me. “Put your hand between your thighs.”
“Ok,” I murmured, losing my voice as my chest and lungs drowned in bliss.
“Do you feel your labia?”
“Yes…” my fingers caressed the velvety swollen skin.
“Pinch your lips,” he instructed me. “Then pull…”
“Pull?” I repeated.
“Trust me, Pinky,” he muttered, and now I was sure that he was touching himself, too. “Tug on those fucking lips of yours as hard as you can…”
I pinched my fingers around one of my labia and pulled down, stretching the skin. The nerves ignited and a hot pang roared through my entire pussy, forcing me to whimper.
“Good girl. Now your clitoris…”
I panted for breath as I slid my fingers up my anatomy. My clitoris was throbbing, hidden beneath the soft fold of my hood.
“Pinch,” Josh growled. He was getting close…and so was I. I pinched my fingers around the tiny pyramid of flesh.
“Pull.”
I obeyed, yanking the skin down with a sharp flick of my wrist. My hips bucked up and I yelped.
“Again.”
I repeated the motion and I felt like my heart and my head and my lungs were about to simultaneously explode…
“Now push your fingers under the hood…”
I slipped the edge of my middle finger underneath the soft skin…
“...and pinch that fucking clitoris. Pinch it the way my lips would, if I was there right now…”
My exposed clitoris was so sensitive that one tug was all it took. I bucked up on the bed and pressed my shoulders back into the pillow as I orgasmed.
“Josh! Oh…fuck, Josh!” I moaned into the phone. My voice mixed with his own string of grunts and pants and, even though we were over a hundred miles apart, we both came at the same time.<
br />
“Shit,” I murmured afterwards. “Can we do that again?”
“We will in a minute, Pinky,” he chuckled. “First, why don’t you tell me about your day?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | JOSH
I pulled the folded ultrasound photograph out of my jeans pocket and gently smoothed out the creases in the paper. Ever since that day I joined Vanessa for her ultrasound appointment, I had been carrying that photo with me everywhere I went.
That’s right: I’m enough of a man to admit that I had developed a major soft spot for that little jelly bean-shaped tadpole that was growing in Vanessa’s womb. I had more than a soft spot, actually. I felt proud every time I looked at that photograph.
Of course I knew that it was way too early to feel proud of anything. All I had contributed thus far were a few deep thrusts, a hot load of microscopic swimmers, and a couple hundred bucks in baby supplies. Biology aside, I knew that I hadn’t earned the right to call myself a ‘dad’ just yet. That was an honor that would come later on. I had to earn that title.
DNA wasn’t enough to determine fatherhood, I had decided. Just look at my own father, for example. There was no disputing that he was my father; his name was on my birth certificate, and he was the man who had put a roof over my head and clothes on my back for eighteen years. I even had his dimpled chin and dark hair. But that didn’t make him a ‘dad.’
I had spent my entire childhood waiting for my father to become my ‘dad.’ I would have taken anything: any scrap of attention, any morsel of affection, any hint of love. I wanted fishing trips and family dinners and life lessons and afternoons spent under the hood of a car… But I never got any of that. I just got disappointed scowls and harsh reprimands.
I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat or a sperm donor or a vacant void in a family portrait. I was going to be a dad.
Step one: tell the truth.
I finished smoothing out the photograph, then I glanced up. I was in the firehouse locker room, standing in front of my cubby.
Tonight was a big night for me: tonight, all of the crew was getting together to celebrate my one-year anniversary with Firehouse 56. The poker table was already set up in the vehicle bay, pizzas had been ordered, and someone had even rented a keg in honor of the occasion.
The guys didn’t know it yet, but we’d be celebrating more than an anniversary. Tonight I planned on finally announcing that I was going to be a father.
I pushed aside the turnout gear that was hanging in my cubby, clearing a space on the red metal locker wall. Then, using a square of tape, I secured the ultrasound photo inside my cubby.
No more hiding after tonight. There it was: in plain sight, displayed for everyone to see. My baby.
“There you are!” a voice shouted from behind me. I spun around and saw Brady standing in the doorway, grinning. “Why the hell are you moping up here, while the rest of us are throwing a party in your honor downstairs?!”
“I’m coming down now,” I said. “I was just…putting something away.”
I glanced back at my locker. My turnout gear had swung back into place, obscuring all but the edge of the ultrasound that I had tacked up on the metal cubby wall.
I waited for Brady to turn and leave, but instead he stepped into the locker room. He crossed his arms, leaning against an empty cubby opposite of me.
“Actually, I’m glad I caught you alone,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t want you to get pissed off, or think that I’m trying to steal your thunder,” Brady said. “I know it’s your big night, but…this is big news, and I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first.”
“So spit it out, Brady,” I rolled my eyes. “Come on. What could you possibly have to tell me, that could trump the whole ‘secret engagement’ debacle?”
What could you possibly have to tell me, that could trump my own big announcement? I added silently to myself.
Brady shrugged and nodded.
“Fair point,” he said. Then: “We’re having a baby.”
My face went numb. Actually, all of me went numb. My hands balled into fists and I felt my mouth go dry.
“You’re…what?”
“We’re having a baby,” Brady repeated. “Cassidy is pregnant. I’m going to be a daddy!”
My jaw clenched into a snarl. You don’t know the first thing about being a ‘daddy,’ I wanted to hiss, but I bit my tongue.
My eyes flashed back to the ultrasound taped up in my locker and my heart sank.
Whether I deserved to be or not, I was already so proud of that baby. Maybe Vanessa and I weren’t perfect…maybe we hadn’t conceived our child in the perfect circumstances, and maybe we weren’t the perfect little cookie-cutter family…but through it all, we had managed to make something perfect and beautiful: that baby.
The feeling of pride and love that I got when I looked at that ultrasound was what finally made me realize that I was ready to share the news. Even though I was scared shitless about telling the crew that I was going to be a father, I knew that once the truth was out there, I’d be so proud to show off the little sac of cells and doll-sized body parts that I had helped make.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I finally had something to be proud of. But with those four words -- “we’re having a baby” -- Brady had managed kick me right back down to the place I had spent my entire life trying to crawl out of; I was right back in his shadow.
Once again, Brady was the noble big brother leading by example…and I was just the fucked up prodigal son who always managed to do things the wrong way around.
Brady’s kid wasn’t even born yet, and he or she already had everything that I was unable to give my own child. Brady’s kid would grow up with parents who were married and madly in love with each other. Brady’s kid would grow up with home-cooked family dinners and family vacations to the beach. Brady’s kid would be spoiled by doting grandparents. Brady’s kid would get to feel proud of their father’s legacy…
I couldn’t give my kid any of that. Brady had already provided more for his child than I could ever provide for my own. He was probably going to be a better ‘dad’ than I could ever be, too. How could he not be? He was Brady fucking Hudson. Everything he touched turned to gold.
As feelings of insecurity and inferiority consumed me, I felt suddenly protective of my unborn son or daughter. I didn’t want my child to be born into the same shadow that I had spent my entire life trying to escape.
I didn’t want my baby to be compared to Brady’s kid, either. But how could people not compare them? Brady’s son or daughter was going to be born into the perfect, loving little family…while my own son or daughter was going to be born out of wedlock, to two parents who lived separate lives in separate apartments...
I could already imagine how Brady’s big announcement would go over with they guys. He’d be greeted with cheers and high-fives. Everyone would congratulate him, because his baby was planned, wanted, intentional…
But nobody was going to think that about me. They’d assume that my baby was an accident…a mistake. My fists balled in anger and I saw a brief flash of red, just thinking about anyone having the nerve to call my perfect, innocent baby a ‘mistake.’
I can’t tell the crew now…I decided. No matter how proud I felt of my unborn child, I knew I couldn’t submit him or her to that kind of judgement.
“Josh?” Brady asked, his voice filling with concern. “Everything ok, buddy?”
“Fine,” I snapped, realizing that I had let my thoughts wander for too long. I forced a stiff smile and swallowed my rage.
“Congratulations,” I told him. “That’s great news. I know you’ll be a great dad.”
I knew that it was true, but it still fucking killed me to say those words. Why? Because I knew that if I had been the one to reveal my news first, there’s no way t
hat Brady would have said those same words to me…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | VANESSA
Thirty Weeks
“Let’s talk about sex!” the spry little woman sitting criss-cross applesauce on a yoga mat at the front of the classroom announced, punctuating her statement with an over-eager fist pump into the air.
My eyes flicked immediately to my right, where Josh was sitting by my side on our own yoga mat at the back of the classroom.
At the behest of my OB-GYN, I had reluctantly agreed to attend a ‘couples pregnancy workshop’ at a local yoga studio in Hartford.
Considering the venue, I had been under the impression that this would be a glorified yoga class, focusing on poses and stretches that would ease the many pains of pregnancy. If I had known that this was actually a class about having sex while pregnant, I would have firmly declined.
“Ladies, raise your hand if you have experienced an increase in libido during pregnancy,” the instructor said. I kept my arms planted firmly at my side as I glanced around the room, scoping out the other couples who were sitting around us as a few hands lifted into the air.
“Come on ladies, be honest!” the instructor said. A few more hands lifted.
I felt Josh’s shoulder nudge against mine.
“Come on Pinky,” he whispered with a dirty grin. “Be honest…”
I whacked his knee with the back of my hand and shot him a glare. I had no intention of sharing the status of my libido with the other couples in this room.
“Now, raise your hand if the changes in your body have made it difficult to satisfy those urges,” the instructor said.
More hands lifted up.
“It’s completely normal to feel frustrated with the changes that take place during pregnancy,” the instructor assured the class, “In tonight’s class, we’ll be discussing different sexual positions that can help expecting mothers achieve intimate and fulfilling penetrative intercourse with their partner!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I grumbled in a voice that only Josh could overhear.
The Complete Firehouse 56 Series Page 30