by Tara Oakes
I don’t even wait for her to answer as I don’t really care for red wine, and even if I’m only living vicariously through her, then I’m gonna do it all the way.
My fingers blindly reach for the bottle opener and push them both toward Cat while I retrieve two wine glasses from the top cupboard. Their stems echo as I place them down on the countertop with an almost musical ringing.
There’s the hollow popping sound as the cork is released and the gentle splashing of the liquid against the sides of the goblet. While Cat’s busying herself playing bartender, I withdraw the cold jug of apple juice from the fridge and use it to fill the empty goblet perched next to hers.
“Cheers,” Cat toasts, holding her drink up and waiting for me to clink.
The rims of our glasses kiss each other before parting. “No homework tonight?”
Cat’s in the thick of a busy semester, having transferred schools locally. “I can’t stare at another textbook right now.”
I remember those days. “Chase holding up well with it all?”
The two of them are like a puzzle I’m trying to figure out. He’s crazy about her, she’s definitely got a thing for him, yet the two of them are either on fire one minute or like oil and water the next.
I think half the reason I like spending so much time with her is because I get more insight into what the hell is really happening over there.
“He says he is. I’m not really sure, though. Time will tell. I mean, he knows where my priorities are right now.” Cat sips her chilled cabernet.’
I follow suit with my juice. “And where exactly are your priorities?”
She must be tasting the flavor of the wine, because her mouth moves and swishes as she buys herself some time before answering. “School. Family. Then him.”
“I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that these men aren’t used to being anything but number one on someone else’s list. It’s not something they know how to deal with. But, they can learn, and he’ll have to. If you two really want to be together, you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Just… screw his brains out and give him a reason to want to keep coming back. The rest will all fall into place.”
Cat laughs, nearly spewing her drink. “Trust me. That’s one area where we are definitely both on the same page. We’ll see if sex is enough to carry us through the next few years until I’m done with med school. If not, well, then it might just turn into a friend with benefits situation.”
I wince at that term. I’ve always hated it. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But, a word of advice… These guys only know two speeds when it comes to women. They either fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, or they make them theirs. It’s about time they realized there’s a whole lot of room in between those two possibilities.”
It’s a lesson that I’m going to sit back and enjoy watching Cat teach her biker.
We toast again, with our nearly empty glasses to the challenge of modernizing this somewhat archaic group. If anyone can do it, I know Cat can.
Our drinks are finished, some more girl talk and chit chat and glasses put in the sink about an hour later, when Cat yawns while taking her exit.
Dawson isn’t home yet and probably won’t be for another hour or so. Sasha’s sleeping through the night peacefully, which is a blessing in itself. Her nightmares have become few and far between, but just when we think they may have disappeared for good, she wakes us up in the middle of the night screaming and crying.
That poor girl has been traumatized, more so than any child should be. I know she was young, not much more than a baby when her mom split, but it definitely left its impression on her.
I’ve done my best to make up for everything my sister had done to her little girl but shit like that leaves scars. Deep down. Hidden. I’m just hoping I can give her enough good in her life to outweigh whatever sense of abandonment she must feel.
My palm rests against the flat switch on the wall and slides the plastic knob down to soften the overhead lights just enough for Dawson to see when he comes home later, and make my way up the stairs, stopping every few feet to pick up some random toy left behind during the day.
I’ve been dreaming about a nice warm bath for hours now, not entirely sure I’d be able to do it, but with the house quiet and a little bit of energy left, I force myself to follow through. I’ve been so busy with doctor appointments, making costumes and baking cakes these last two days, I haven’t had any time for myself.
That’s about to change.
While the tub is filling in our bathroom, I quickly get rid of my clothes, throwing them into a pile nearest the hamper in the corner of the master bedroom. I look at the jeans crumpled on the floor longingly, knowing it’s probably the very last time I’ll wear them until after the baby is born.
I’ll miss them. Especially the way they make my ass look.
Dipping my big toe into the water, I test it and turn the large silver knob on the wall to add just a touch of cold so I don’t burn, letting another moment pass before submerging myself.
The wall of mirrors on the wall nearest me is calling to me, begging me to glance over and take stock of what my body is changing into. I know I can’t obsess over it. It’s just going to happen anyway.
The small bump near my belly button looks about what it did yesterday if only maybe a little rounder on the sides. I skim my fingers over it and feel the firmness to it. My hips are a little bit more plush than they used to be, but I actually like it. The femininity of them is remarkable, with the sleek lines and tight curves appearing almost overnight.
Next… my boobs. God I really don’t think they can get much bigger. I know Dawson loves them, but, at this rate, I’m going to topple over.
I shake my head while gathering my hair into a large fist and twisting up to clasp with a plastic clip holding tight up high enough to keep my hair dry. The tub is almost full and the little sanctuary is just what I need right now.
Why not go all the way? I ask myself, rummaging through the large drawer of the vanity to find the small book of matches we keep in there for times like this. I strike the first stick, watching the flame appear and use my palm to huddle around it, keeping it alive as I walk from candle to candle, lighting the wicks.
A soft amber glow lights up the room, dancing on the walls and adding instant calmness. I take a deep breath, shut the lights off and use only the flickering candlelight to lead my way over to the deep tub where I step in carefully and lower myself inch by inch until everything is submerged except for my chin.
My body feels weightless, my stress instantly relieved as my toes stretch and wriggle under the surface. A deep breath releases and I imagine all of my tension escaping with it. I feel lighter and do it again, hoping for the same effect.
My mind has been a crowded place the last few days, rarely quieting down and often causing me to have to ignore the thoughts that keep bubbling to the surface. Sure, they must have always been there, but I’m not sure why they’re relentless lately.
Sasha has been my responsibility since she was nearly a year old, the first time her mom dropped her off in my arms and promised to be back. I believed her then, even though I knew never to believe a junkie.
I wanted nothing more than for my sister to be different, to change, to take care of her own baby. It never happened, though. At first, she would come back for short stretches, convincing mom and me that she was clean, that she was going to shape up and do the right thing.
Sometimes it was a couple of months. Sometimes a few weeks. Near the end, it was only a couple of days at a clip. No matter what she said or tried, she could never run from her demons. They always seemed to find a way back to her and she’d slip into the same old things she always did.
Lying. Stealing. Manipulating.
It was excruciating to watch that downward spiral, especially for my mom. She was dealing with her own health issues and the stress of having to worry about my sister was too much for her. Every time she landed in the hospital, I would c
urse my sister, convinced it was her who had really sent Mom there.
I was trying to juggle school back then, coming home for semester breaks and vacations to help Mom as much as I could. It was clear it wasn’t enough though, so I packed up right after graduation, moved my ass back home and picked up the pieces as best as I could.
The first piece to be picked up was Sasha. That poor little girl was being shuffled back and forth between Tina and mom. Every time Tina would play her sober card long enough for Mom to believe her as only an enabler can, she would hand the baby over.
Every time Tina would show her true colors and go back to using, the baby would go right back to Mom.
Well, no more.
Not once I stepped in to clean shit up.
There was no way in hell I was letting Tina get her track marked arms on that sweet little baby ever again. Sasha deserved to be safe. She deserved to be loved and made a priority. And, I did it.
Looking back now, I’m not sure how I survived those couple of years. No money, as I could never seem to hold onto a job long enough to really count. Between Mom going in and out of the hospital and Sasha to care for, it was too difficult, nearly impossible, to work a steady nine to five. Especially with anything having to do with my college degree in math.
I struggled. I cried. I prayed for someway to be able to pull together the rent money. I did it, though. We may have lived in a shit neighborhood, but Sasha always had a roof over her head.
Then I met Dawson and everything changed. In a lot of ways you’d think it would have become so much easier for me not having to worry about money or having to handle things by myself.
In some ways, it was actually scarier for me than being broke in a drug infested neighborhood, though. I had to learn to rely on someone else, to trust someone else enough to lean on them.
That, above all else, was the hardest thing for me to adjust to.
People leave.
That’s what I’d always believed, always felt. My dad had left, well died, actually. Tina had left. Any punk ass boyfriend I’d ever had had left. It’s just what people did, I’d convinced myself.
Dawson made me see things differently, though. I had to take a look at how I felt for Sasha. I could never leave her. So, I guess not everyone leaves. Dawson proved to me over and over again that he wasn’t going to leave either.
He took on a woman in dire straits, her little niece and her sick mother as if we were his own. He didn’t have to do that and I’d even pushed him away at times preparing myself for the eventual fallout.
I had to learn to trust him. I didn’t have to learn to love him, though. That came fast and hard almost the first time I set eyes on him. Big, strong, and rough around all the edges.
He was intriguing. He was a mystery.
He scared me at times with his temper, and amazed me with his gentleness.
We’ve become a real family, one that’s only going to grow now that this baby is coming into the picture. I should be happy. I should be grateful. I should be ecstatic, right?
I keep telling myself that and even get pissed when it doesn’t work.
I can’t help but feeling like there’s one thing that can make this all come crashing down into a pile of hurt around me.
Tina.
I don’t know if it’s the hormones. I don’t know if it’s just a natural progression now that Sasha’s been with me for so long. She’s mine, but she doesn’t really belong to me.
I can make her as many costumes as my fingers will be able to sew before they start bleeding. I can read her as many bedtime stories as I can find and even do the little funny voices she likes while flipping through the pages. We can bake a million pineapple upside down cakes and I can let her put the cherries on every single one of them.
It won’t change anything though.
I’ll never really be her mom the way that other mom was to Sasha’s friend tonight.
I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to be taken from me. The baby growing in my belly is mine, though. I know that, but it’s no consolation.
I can’t shake the feeling that God is giving me one baby to prepare me, to replace the other when the time comes, and it breaks my heart.
I want them both.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAWSON
“Hey, Angel,” I call loud enough to be heard yet not loud enough to wake Sasha. “Brought you a little somethin’.”
I’ve become an expert on figuring out exactly what that volume is, with plenty of trial and error over the past few months.
The TV set is humming a low laughter from some late night talk show, glowing a soft bluish light onto the comforter of the bed. Angel is lying in the middle of the king-sized bed, stretching out.
“Oh?” She’s curious.
My hands are behind my back, holding tight to the peace offering and hiding it from her view. “Hungry?”
Her eyebrow raises. “For what?”
Instinctually, her eyes drop down to my cock. I laugh. “That’s not what I meant, but that could be part of the surprise if you wanted it to be.”
She sits up in bed, using her hands to prop herself up against the headboard. “What is it?”
The ice cream in my hand is freezing cold, and making my fingers go numb. It isn’t easy hanging onto a sundae while riding a Harley, but she’s had enough of these cravings lately for me to have mastered it.
I carry the cardboard bowl over to her and present it. “Rocky Road. No whipped cream. Extra sprinkles. Just like you like.”
Her eyes widen as if I’ve just handed over a million bucks. “What’s the occasion?” It doesn’t take her long to become suspicious. “What did you do?”
Once she has the ice cream firmly in hand. I sit on the edge of the bed and begin to unbuckle my riding boots. “I don’t just buy you shit when I fuck up. Sometimes I do it just because.”
The plastic lid makes a crinkling sound as she pops it off and casts it aside onto the bedside table. “Uh huh,” her voice changes, full of ice cream. “So you didn’t buy me this because you feel bad about eating all the pineapple upside down cake last night?”
Damn, she knows me so well.
I place the heavy leather shoes side by side under the bed and hang my cut on one of the posts of the footboard. “Just making sure my son gets a little chocolate fix to keep his momma happy. When his momma is happy, she lets me do things to her.”
“Ulterior motives then, huh?” A heaping spoon of dripping dessert finds its way to her mouth as I crawl on up, settling next to her.
The plastic of her spoon scrapes against the bowl, scraping up some of the thick chocolate fudge. I have quick reflexes and move to intercept the spoon as it closes in on her lips, stealing the mouthful of ice cream for myself.
“Hey!” She playfully protests.
With the cold creaminess in my mouth, I hold up my hands in mock surrender. Never get in between a pregnant woman and her ice cream. I’ve learned the hard way.
“You guys help Trix clean up?” She asks.
As if. “That’s what prospects are for, darlin’. You get that bath you wanted?”
I can already smell the sweet scented soap she uses and know the answer before she even confirms it.
She speaks between bites. “Yup. Felt so good, too.”
My arm snakes around her, pulling her close. “So… You’re all soft and smooth”
I can feel her body shake as she laughs. “Uh huh…”
Mmmmm.
“Everywhere?”
Her lips smack together. “Uh huh.”
Too tempting to pass up.
The drop of chocolate on her bottom lip is intoxicating as I stare at it and think of exactly how I’m going to lick it clean off her. Leaning in, I lift her chin with my thumb and forefinger, making her eyes abandon the ice cream to look at me.
I hold her stare for a long moment before inching in. Taking her lip in between mine, I suck on
it lightly, feeling it begin to plump, tasting the sweet chocolate. “Mmm. So sweet. What else is sweet?”
I’m close enough where I can feel her chest spasm as her breath hitches.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I love it when she dares me.
Dare accepted.
“How about I start here?” I swipe my finger along the edge of the ice cream cup, scooping up enough fudge to coat the tip.
Using the candy coated finger, I paint a line down her neck. It doesn’t stay on her skin long as I lick every bit of it up with my tongue. Her skin quivers under my touch and she gasps, stretching her chin away from me to give me better access.
She’s wearing an old ratty “Support your local Slayers MC” t-shirt of mine, and even though she’s knocked up, it’s still swimming on her. I don’t have to try hard at all to pull up the cotton until her ripe, hard nipples show themselves. My mouth begins to water.
“That is sweet. How about… here?” I repeat the action, this time swirling my pointer finger in small circles around her peach-colored nipple. The tip is already firm, but I tease it until it hardens even more.
I’m a guy with a sweet tooth, and this may very well be my favorite kind of foreplay yet. Her eyes flutter closed in anticipation as I bend down, gripping under her breast and holding it firm as I devour the sugary sweetness until there is nothing left but the velvety smooth skin of her nub in my mouth.
“Very sweet. But, I think I want to taste the creamy center,” I hint at where I’m headed next.
Another dip in the cooling fudge and I hold it up teasingly near her own lips as she processes what I’m about to do. Her soft, sweet lips part as she begins to pant. I use my chocolate-free hand to take the near empty sundae cup from her and rest it on the bedside table.
She’s about to lose her damn mind and the only place I want her hand is on my head, pushing me deeper into her soaking pussy.
Moving my leg, I straddle her and work myself down, pulling the blankets free of her body along the way. A simple, thin pair of white cotton panties beg for my attention. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love the sheer, lacy, trampy shit she wears every once in a while but seeing these innocent looking bikini bottoms makes me want to ravage her like nothing else.