“Alexis,” I growl in warning. Bloody hell, she drives me wild.
She gives me a firm squeeze while answering in an innocently sweet voice. “Yes?”
Swallowing heavily, I rein in the serious wood that is forming beneath her hand. “You better start thinking of all the ways you want to be fucked. Because when we get home, we are going to be performing each and every one of them.”
CHAPTER TWO
Experiencing confliction with one’s self, when you think about it, is kind of absurd. But despite that absurdity, we all subject ourselves to this illogical torment at more than one point in our lives. Why? Well, I would probably put it down to stubbornness, or the inability to be unyielding, even if that means you then become at war with yourself.
I’m no stranger to being at war—figuratively speaking—having fought and won many battles in my life. Battles in business, against family, and even against morality. But fighting a battle against one’s self is not a battle you intend on losing. The thing is if you are defeated, then you only have yourself to blame.
* * *
“Bryce, I know this is hard for you. But you have to talk about your feelings of guilt if you ever want to get past them.”
I look up from my seated position. Jessica—my psychologist and family friend—is sitting across from me with her notepad rested on her lap. She has her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a troubled expression on her face. It’s quite obvious to me that her concern is due to the fact that I am not openly discussing what happened with Gareth like she wishes that I would.
We are both sitting in her office which is situated on Burke Street in the CBD of Melbourne. It’s a quaint office, furnished with soft colours, unobtrusive ornaments and feel-good art work, purposefully placed to make her patients feel comfortable, relaxed and, unbeknown to them, unguarded. I have been here many times before and am aware of my deceptive surroundings—they don’t fool me.
“What if I don’t want to get past my guilt? What if I don’t deserve to?” I respond with determination.
“Guilt is felt by not only the guilty, but more so by those who feel they deserve it when in fact, they don’t. Guilt can be a humble yet deceitful emotion.”
“Jessica,” I sigh, deflated and tired as a result of this session’s conflict. “I know you are trying to help. I know you are trying to make me see that Gareth’s death was not my fault. The truth of the matter is...it was. I abandoned him when he really needed me and, on top of that, I nearly lost Alexis in the process. I deserve this guilt. Please, just let me bear it.”
She places her notepad on the seat next to her and removes her glasses. “Gareth’s death was not your fault. If it were then it would be equally mine. Actions have consequences, consequences have results, and sometimes those results are devastating, as in Gareth’s case.”
Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair, the pain and memory of my mentally ill cousin’s demise still too brutally raw.
“Bryce, look at me,” Jessica says with a soft but authoritative voice.
I open my eyes and find her gaze.
“I’m going to ask you to think about something and then I want to discuss it next week.”
“Sure,” I respond flippantly with a tinge of arrogance. My intention is not to be an arsehole, after all, she only means well. It’s just, I’m exhausted and want to get home to Alexis and find solace in her warm embrace. Alexis keeps me grounded, she always has and I hope she always will.
“What you’re experiencing is known as ‘unhealthy’ or ‘inappropriate’ guilt. I want you to look at the situation from a different point of view, put someone else in your shoes. Take Lucy for instance. What if it were her? Would you find her just as responsible for Gareth’s death? After all, she too was his cousin. She knew what you knew. She had just as much influence as you—“
“Jessica,” I snap. “Leave Lucy out of this. It—“
“Bryce!” she interrupts just as abruptly as I had. “Just think about what I’m saying and we’ll talk about it next week.”
I stand up, not happy with her request to ‘pretend’ to put Lucy in my place. Gareth’s death had nothing to do with my sister. “Fine, I will see you next week. When is Alexis due to come in next?”
“Alexis and I have arranged monthly visits now. She tends to listen to my advice and not be so sceptical of what you may feel are unorthodox suggestions.”
My eye involuntarily twitches and I clench then release my hand. Bloody hell, she is on a tirade today. “I’m glad to hear my fiancé is dealing with the situation and finding a way to put it behind her. The last thing she needs is to feel any stress in her current state, so thank you.”
Jessica stands and makes her way toward her desk. “Well, she is not the only one.”
“Good bye, Jessica,” I respond just as contemptuously. “I will see you next week.”
“Bryce,” she says not looking up. “You know that despite your stubbornness, your mother would still be proud of you.”
I sigh. “You tell me this every time.”
“Well, it’s true. She would, and you need to hear it.”
I head for the door without looking back and give her the reply that I always do, “Thank you.” Except this time, I don’t really mean it.
* * *
A few weeks later, we are standing on the threshold of our newly refurbished apartment with my hands covering Alexis’ eyes.
“Are you ready?” I ask, drawing out the unveiling of the renovations.
She urges me forward. “Yes! Yes! Come on, let’s go in.”
Releasing one hand from her eyes, I turn the handle on the door, opening it for us to walk inside. “Keep them closed until I say, alright?”
She huffs. “Yes, okay, you are such a control freak.”
“And your problem is?”
“Bryce Edward Clar—“
“Okay, okay,” I chuckle, while holding her back against my front and slowly shuffling us along the entryway of the apartment. Leaning down, I slowly and softly whisper into her ear. “You can open them, my love.”
I tilt my head around to get a clearer view of her reaction, seeing her eyelids flutter and the expression on her face morph from anticipation to amazement. It’s not as if she had no idea what the newly refurbished apartment was to look like. Because she did, after all, help redesign it. I guess that seeing it in the flesh for the first time, together with the extra little bits and pieces I’ve organised without her knowledge, is the cause of her happy astonishment.
She steps forward and gazes over the lounge area. “Oh, Bryce, it’s...it’s...wow! It’s wonderful.”
The layout of the apartment is still relatively the same, except now there is no step down into the lounge. Alexis wanted to minimise as many steps as possible, considering a rolling, then crawling, then walking little person was on their way. The other noticeable change is the softer colour palette throughout the lower level, and the now child-friendly furniture—no sharp, sleek lines or edges.
Where there had been greys, whites, blacks and deep blues, there are now creams, beige, fawn and chocolate browns. I’d arranged for new family photographs to be enlarged, framed, and displayed on the walls, together with replica cushions of the ones Alexis went a little cuckoo over when she left Rick. I’d even arranged for some Twister carpet to be laid in my new recording studio, which was no longer really fitting to be labelled a ‘recording studio’. You see, it is now a larger room containing many new toys. Not man toys...but child toys, including the carpet.
Before Alexis has a chance to move further into the apartment, I seize her hand gently and spin her around, stepping her backward until she’s stopped against the entryway wall—my prurient intentions now made clear by the pressing of my raging hard-on against her hip.
“I believe we need to break in this freshly rebuilt wall,” I suggest seductively, pinning her arms above her head and grazing my lips across her ear.
<
br /> Thoughts of the first time I had her pressed to this very spot flit across my mind, and it’s obvious to me that I want her now just as much as I wanted her then...probably even more.
She takes in a sharp breath, pushing her plump breasts into my chest before exhaling slowly. “What did you have in mind?” she purrs.
Fuuuuuck, I love it when she teases me with her sultry voice.
“I think a complete re-hash...” I murmur as I lightly lick the crook of her neck. “...of our first time together is a good start.”
“Start?” she questions, her voice still low and sexy. “We have to pick up the kids from school soon, Bryce,” she adds, lacking conviction.
Pulling away from her, I look up to my watch then lean back in, stopping only centimetres from her mouth. “There’s a lot I can do to you in the space of an hour,” I say as I watch her lips and how she has no control but to moisten them with her tongue.
“Good,” she smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Not wanting to waste any time, I slide my tongue into her mouth, relishing her luscious warmth and silky feel. An uncontrollable growl resonates from within me, intensifying our fervour and increasing my need to bury myself inside her. To say I’m completely attuned to her body’s needs is an understatement. I know what she wants...likes...needs.
Now feeling her legs weaken, I release one of her hands and hold her hip to steady her. Almost instantly, her newly freed hand finds the back of my head. The tightened grip on my hair fucking exhilarates me.
“Would you like sex up against the wall again?” I ask on a whisper.
“Yes, I’m fucking thirsty.”
I pull away, entertained by her response. Obviously, I was not referring to one of our favourite cocktails, the one which inspired this passionate position in the first place.
She notices my paused state, giggles, and pulls me back in for a kiss. “I’m kidding,” she mumbles. “Now, get on your knees. If memory serves me correctly, you were all about tasting not admiring.”
I shake my head at her sassiness and begin to unbutton her silk blouse, finding her perfect breasts with my hands. Kneading them with heightened hunger, I allow my fingers to massage the plump flesh right before pulling down the cup of her bra and taking her nipple into my mouth. The soft peak hardens at my touch, eliciting my desperate urge to flick it with my tongue.
A sharp, uncomfortable, yet fucking sensational ache ripples through my head as she suddenly grips my hair and tugs ferociously, indicating her approval of my tongues use.
“You like that?” I murmur around her wet nipple.
“Uh huh.”
“What else do you like?”
Her hands glide down my shirt as she makes her way to my belt, their journey south such a turn-on. She finds the buckle and, wasting no time in unlatching it, has my cock in her hands within in seconds. “This...I like this,” she answers.
Fuck! The feel of her warm hands on my shaft stimulates me even further. “So you fucking should,” I growl, a determined new hunger rolling out of me. I allow her to caress my cock for only a few seconds longer before my impatience wins over and I strip her of her clothes.
Taking a step back and stepping out of my own pants, I hungrily take in her gorgeous pregnant form. Her swollen belly is so fucking beautiful that it has my dick twitching with excitement, knowing that in mere seconds my hands will be caressing what I see in front of me.
I raise my eye line to her chest. The rhythmic rise and fall has me intoxicated, together with her eyes which have now become heavy with desire. It is almost the exact same look she pierced me with the first time we were in this position.
“You still, and always will, fucking take my breath away,” I say as I cup her cheek.
She turns in to my hand and closes her eyes, and it’s this small sign of pure love that has me dropping to my knees before her.
Alexis’ hands find my hair, the corners of her mouth lifting in a provocative grin. Fuck! That look does me in every time.
“You want me to taste you, don’t you? To run my tongue in between your legs while you tug on my hair?”
“Yes,” she breathes out. “Yes, I do.”
Grabbing my head, she threads her fingers through my hair and coaxes me forward, her yearning desperation now eagerly prompting me to spread her legs and nudge her clit with my nose.
Alexis sucks in a breath and then exhales. “Oh, Bryce,” she breathes, as her head drops back against the wall. “Yes, I do want that. I want it now.”
God! I fucking love it when she moans my name. The sound of her quivering approval of my actions always gives me assurance.
Sliding my tongue out, I drag it across her soft skin, sampling her already aroused pussy, the taste—fucking delightful. I could eat her slowly all day, the taste of her at the tip of my tongue—sensational.
Her fingers dig into my scalp in response, and at the same time my grip tightens on her hips. I swirl my tongue and coax her hips to roll against my mouth. She obliges and lifts her leg, draping it over my shoulder, prompting me to increase my tongue’s ferocity as it laps and flicks at her. I could seriously devour her sweet flavour for hours. Listen to her pant for hours. I could, quite simply, stay like this for hours.
“Bryce, I...I...oh, God,” she cries out as her body tenses then shudders while I hold her tight as she comes on my face—one of my favourite things imaginable.
Sucking her clit into my mouth one final time, I follow it with a tender kiss then proceed to stand.
“I need you inside me, now!” she demands, her desperation evident.
Given no time to taste her nipple again, she impatiently grabs my face and directs her mouth to mine, getting a taste of her own arousal on my lips. Being a man who loves to eat pussy, there’s just something so incredibly sexy when a woman tastes herself on your face, and when Alexis does it, I could honestly die a happy man.
Separating from her hungry kiss, I spin her around and splay her hands on the wall then gently coax her into a bent position. My cock throbs with expectant release as I open her up, driving deep inside her. Slowly, I slide back out, tantalizing her with my hard length. I know she loves a good tease.
“Does that feel good?” I question between slow thrusts.
“Yes.”
“Do you want it harder?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still thirsty?”
She laughs. “No.”
I snigger then proceed to slide in and out of her at a faster pace. In and out, in and out, the warm walls of her pussy massaging my shaft as I glide back and forth.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp before reaching forward and cupping her bouncing tits.
Noticing her arms weaken as she holds herself up against the wall, I release one breast and wrap my arm around her waist, supporting her.
“I’ve got you. Just relax.”
Her body slackens just a little, and her head drops back onto my shoulder. I let go of her breast, brace my hand against the wall, and seize her mouth with my own.
My efforts to refrain from ejaculating become impossible as the sensation is just too great, and I explode into her, filling her as I pulse with pleasure. Our climax melts into one as I continue to roll against her, slowing down and steadying not only our stance but our breathing as well.
I slide out of her and turn her back around to face me, catching the elated joy radiating from her in the form of a satisfied smile. She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her forehead against mine.
“Why are you so happy?” I question, already pretty sure of the answer.
With a sexy as hell raise of her eyebrow, she takes a hold of my tie and tugs me toward the lounge. “One room down, at least five to go.”
CHAPTER THREE
One hour was not enough time to complete Alexis’ plans for the remaining five rooms. It was, however, enough time for both the recording studio and the master bedroom. Never would I ever say no to her, but damn was I gla
d we only had an hour. Any longer and my dick would’ve fallen off.
In the beginning of the pregnancy, Alexis’ sexual appetite was non-existent, but that was completely understandable considering what happened during that time—her being slightly traumatised for a few weeks following Gareth’s death. The thing about Alexis, though, is she has an incredible ability to put on a brave face and deal with life’s hurdles, as she puts it.
During those initial weeks, we comforted each other, both of us trying to move past the explosion—and I say the term ‘move past’ very lightly, ‘moving past’ not being as easily achievable for some. It wasn’t until approximately a month afterward—and in amongst our comforting—that our sexual urges returned, our intimate moments helping heal the unspoken words of the tragic event. Then, for the weeks that followed, Alexis’ morning sickness reared its ugly head, halting our restored libidos. Why it is called morning sickness bloody stumps me. It’s never just the mornings.
Shortly after her constant need to vomit disappeared, her sexual desires increased ten-fold. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not complaining—her physical presence still drives me wild. It’s just...my dick fails to let my brain know that at times it is fucking whacked and in need of a rest.
* * *
“I can’t believe you had Twister carpet put in,” Alexis laughs while watching the passing traffic on the Tullamarine Freeway. She turns to face me with a mischievous grin. “You know, as soon as I’ve popped out BB, I’m challenging you to a game...naked.”
We are on our way to collect Nate and Charlotte from school and to then surprise them with the completion of the apartment.
“Why wait till after you give birth to challenge me?” I ask, curiously. I’m surprised with her current sex-drive that she hasn’t penned in a game for this evening.
“Because you will have an unfair advantage.”
“How’s that?” I chuckle while noticing her eyes spark wide.
“Because I can’t easily twist and manoeuvre with a child growing within my womb.”
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