Protecting Rayne

by Emily Bishop

“Right,” David says. “You won’t be able to beat me.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have to because we’re friends now, right?”

  “Yeah. But we can still try to beat each other for fun and then we can play together as a team.”

  Sabrina smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

  I walk behind them, just watching, listening. Yes, Sabrina may look young but they don’t look alike so one wouldn’t think they’re mother and son. But I don’t care what others think. I don’t even care what Sabrina and David call each other. I haven’t seen David this happy before. It’s like he’s finally found something he’s been missing all his life.

  “Hey!” Sabrina shouts at me as she stops and turns her head. “You snooze, you lose, daydreamer.”

  I hadn’t even realized I’d stopped walking.

  “I was not daydreaming,” I tell her, catching up to them. “Just looking around.”

  “Checking out someone?” Sabrina asks with furrowed eyebrows. “Because I’ve seen some women checking you out.”

  “No. Never. I was just trying to figure out what we’ll do next.”

  “What about lunch?” she suggests, looking at David. “You’re hungry, aren’t you, David?”

  “A little,” David answers.

  Sabrina touches her chin. “But if we eat lunch, we might not be able to go on the rides after because we might throw up.”

  “There is that,” I say.

  “So, what about we try the rides now? There aren’t many, right?”

  I nod. “Sure. Whatever you say, Mrs. Brewster.”

  She chuckles.

  “Hey, Dad, why don’t you call Sabrina ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ like some other dads do?” David asks suddenly.

  I ruffle his hair. “You watch too much YouTube.”

  He puts his hands on his head. “I did not get that from YouTube.”

  “I’ll call Sabrina whatever she likes.” I look at her.

  She shakes her head. “Sabrina’s fine. It’s my name.”

  I nod. “Sabrina, it is. So, what ride should we try first?”

  ***

  “Are you sure you want to try this ride?” I ask David moments later as we’re strapped to our seats at the Lighthouse Dive, which is a ride that goes up to sixty-five feet and then suddenly drops.

  “Yes,” he says even though I see him shaking slightly. “I’m old enough. I’m practically a man.”

  I chuckle.

  “It’s still okay to be afraid, though,” Sabrina tells him. “Fears aren’t just for girls. Everyone has them. The important thing is to not let your fear control you.”

  “Hear, hear.” I look at her with pride.

  “I’m fine,” David insists.

  “Okay.” I nod. “What about you, Sabrina?”

  “I’ll survive,” she says. “I mean, I survived eating three burgers in ten minutes and soaking in a tub of I-can’t-remember-what. How hard can this be?”

  “You can do it, Sabrina,” David cheers.

  She smiles. “I’m sure we can all do it.”

  Just then, the ride starts ascending.

  “Or maybe not,” she says.

  “Hey,” I tell her. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I know.” She nods. “I’ll just scream at the top of my lungs.”

  ***

  “I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” I tell Sabrina after the ride, which just lasted a few minutes.

  “Neither can I,” Sabrina says, rubbing her throat.

  “At least you didn’t throw up,” David says.

  She pats his back. “Thanks for reminding me, David. By the way, you were really brave.”

  “I screamed, too,” he says. “And so did Daddy.”

  “I did not,” I protest.

  Both of them laugh.

  I grab their hands. “Come on, we’ve still got other rides to try.”

  ***

  Two hours later, we’ve tried all the rides and eaten at the restaurant, which had good food. We’ve shopped at the gift shop, too. Now, just before leaving, we decide to ride the Ferris Wheel one last time, having enjoyed it the most.

  “The views from here are really great,” Sabrina says.

  “Yeah,” I agree, looking at her. “The view from here is really good, too.”

  “Stop it,” she scolds, blushing again.

  I can’t help but keep staring at her, though, and as I do, I excitedly anticipate tonight. Today was a perfect day but I have a feeling tonight will be even better.

  Lovers

  Sabrina

  “Sleep tight.” I pull the covers up until David’s shoulders. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  “There aren’t any bed bugs in my bed,” he says. “I looked and looked before but I couldn’t see any.”

  “That’s because they’re really tiny,” I say. “But don’t you think about them. Just think about what a wonderful day we had, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night.”

  I kiss his hair then get off his bed, heading toward the door. After turning off the lights, I pause at the doorway, looking at him.

  When I was undergoing training to be a nanny, I was taught not to be attached to the child. I thought, too, that I would never have children. That wasn’t one of my dreams. I never thought I’d feel how it was to be a mother.

  Now, though, I can feel the warmth in my chest. I can feel pride and joy at knowing I have David. He’s an incredible boy. I’m glad I have the chance to take care of him, to watch him grow and to help him be a good man.

  I just know he’ll be a good man like his father.

  As I close the door and head down the hall to our bedroom, I think of Randall and smile. Today, I got to spend a lot of time with him. I got to see sides of him and expressions I had never seen before.

  I fell even more in love with him.

  Love.

  I never thought I would feel this way, not for Randall, not for any man. I thought I loved Vince but now, I realize that wasn’t love. I was just desperate to please him so that he would help me make my dreams come true. I wanted him to be my hero and so I looked at him like one. I poured my heart into him.

  But that wasn’t love. Everything I felt for him, I felt because I wanted something in return, whether it was the fame, the fine things, the praise or simply the feeling that I was special.

  This is love. What I feel right now for Randall, I don’t feel because he saved me, because he’s protecting me from Vince, because he’s the father of a great child I want to take care of or because he makes me feel like the most amazing woman in the world. No. I just love him. I want to be with him no matter what happens, to support him, to comfort him, to laugh with him. It’s just like our wedding vows said. I want to be with him through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer.

  Does he feel the same? I don’t know. I think so. Otherwise, why would he treat me so carefully? Why would he believe in me so much? He only had to marry me. He wasn’t required to be good to me. Yet, he is.

  He’s the real hero, my knight in shining armor, my husband, my lover.

  At that last word, my heart skips a beat, my smile becoming wider. I wonder what he’ll ask me to wear.

  ***

  “You want me to wear this?” I ask as I hold up the bikini that Randall has just tossed at me as I stand in front of him.

  “Yup. It doesn’t have buttons but I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Funny. Where did you even get this? Don’t tell me…”

  “I bought it a while ago,” he explains. “Remember when you went to the restroom at that shopping outlet? While you were there, I went ahead and bought that.”

  “You bought this in three minutes?”

  “I just picked the first one I saw off the rack. I think I made a good choice, though.”

  I look at the black and gold two-piece swimsuit, the top a halter held by just two strings and the bottom piece also with
strings at the side. I would never wear something like this at a pool or the beach. I guess I should be grateful I just have to wear it here in the bedroom.

  And I guess I should be grateful I shaved down there the day before yesterday, wanting to look even better for Randall.

  “Okay. Give me two minutes.”

  I disappear into the bathroom. After a short while, I come out, wearing my robe over the bikini.

  Randall frowns. “I don’t think I told you to put on the robe.”

  “Fine.”

  I take a deep breath then pull on the sash of the robe and let it fall to my feet. At once, I feel Randall’s gaze on me, on my breasts, which are barely concealed by the top, on my belly and on my bottom piece as if he can see right through it.

  Randall whistles. “I love your body,” he breathes.

  He’s only looking at me, but I can feel the heat between us coursing through every vein in my body. I tingle and throb for him. My swollen breasts tingle, my nipples poking against the cool fabric of the swimsuit. I want him to touch me.

  Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?

  I can clearly see what I’m doing to him. His cock is so stiff in those pants, I can see every ridge. God, he’s big. “Get over here,” Randall growls, pointing to the space directly in front of him. I’m almost scared—but I know it’s really excitement.

  I step up to him, swallowing hard. I cross my arms over my chest. “You just want to look at me?” I whisper, disappointed as his eyes crawl over my body. I’m on fire for him. I need him to grip my tits. Sink his teeth into my neck. Something.

  Randall runs his fingers gently through my hair and strokes down my cheek with one rough thumb. Then he grabs my chin and kisses me, immediately parting my lips as he pushes his tongue inside my mouth.

  I murmur softly and my arms wrap around him. I can’t really wrap my arms all the way around him but I caress the strong, shifting muscles of his back and I open my mouth wider for him, moaning into our shared mouth, tongues dancing together vigorously.

  Now this is a real kiss from a real man.

  Randall pulls away from me—barely, but he does—and his gaze travels my full length. One arm wraps around my waist, pulling me so close that there isn’t even any oxygen between us anymore.

  One thumb traces a path down my throat, between my collarbones, between my aching breasts, all the way down to my belly button, leaving a scorching trail that makes my heart beat faster. His thumb tenderly circles my belly button, the sensation almost ticklish, maddening.

  Without warning, Randall dips his hand into my bikini bottom and gripped my sex like he was testing me out.

  I gasp for air, a wave of tingling heat washing over me.

  “You shaved,” he says, his palm rubbing against me. He grinned and beamed at me.

  I nod and purse my lips. One of his fingers slides between my labia and fondles over my slick clit. My breath hitches in my mouth. “I thought you might like it. Do you?”

  He touches his forehead to mine as he exhales sharply. “Oh, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Fuck me?” I suggest sweetly.

  He chuckles.“What?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. “You want me in here?”

  He slips a finger inside and a soft cry escapes my lips. My knees shake and I cling to him, afraid I’ll fall.

  “I didn’t hear you,” he says, his lips against my ear. His tongue darts out to lick the lobe.

  “Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes.”

  He slips another finger in, and my body turns to mush. His fingers always feel so thick inside me, but somehow, his prick doesn’t hurt at all. It’s huge, but I can do it. It pushes me right to the edge and then the orgasm tips me over.

  “Just do it,” I demand and plead at the same time. “What are we waiting for?”

  Randall gazes at me soulfully as his fingers flick and pump in my pussy. “Not yet,” he whispers, withdrawing the fingers.

  In one move, Randall scoops me up and throws me over one shoulder.

  “Show off,” I accuse him.

  He just laughs as he throws me on top of the bed. I hear a rustle beneath the bed and I look to see him sliding something out.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “A washable fitness mat,” he explains.

  “Are we going to exercise now?” I ask curiously.

  “In a bit,” he answers with a sly grin. “You know, in order to be fit, you don’t just need activity. You need a proper diet.”

  He takes a bottle of chocolate syrup from the drawer of the bedside table.

  “Chocolate syrup?” My eyes grow wide. “You keep chocolate syrup in the bedside table?”

  “You said you’d wear whatever I want,” Randall reminded me, twisting from side to side in a sway and watching me with that impish grin. God, I loved sex with him. After Vince, I didn’t think sex even could be fun, but Randall and I have fun. “The bikini was just the first part.”

  “I see.”

  He’s going to pour chocolate on me? That’s what the mat is for?

  As he opens the bottle, I lie back down. “Now I know where David gets the crazy ideas.”

  Randall chuckles. “Turn around, baby. This is only the beginning.”

  I obey, lying flat against the mat. I feel him pour the chocolate syrup on my back. It’s surprisingly silky and warm on my skin, like massage oil, and I wonder if he warmed the bottle in preparation for me. Even when he’s drizzling me in syrup, he’s a damn gentleman

  Wait. Is he tracing my scars?

  It seems like it. Afterward, he pulls the strings of my panties and places a heap of chocolate syrup on each of my butt cheeks then down the back of my legs.

  Okay.

  “You know chocolate isn’t good for you, right?” I tease “You’re better be ready to do some squat thrusts.”

  “I am,” Randall promises. “But the chocolate isn’t what I’m going to be eating. You are.”

  “I’m not good for your health either,” I tell him. His tongue lavishes and skates across my buttcheek and I giggle at the way it jars my whole body, making me buzz and burn anew.

  “You are,” Randall purrs. “You’re too sweet.”

  His hand scoops around my hip and slides between the sheets and my pussy, stroking my button with his middle finger as he licks the chocolate off my ass, then moving up my back. He traces my scars with his tongue; I know that he does. The wounded skin is extra sensitive; I’ve traced it with my own fingers a thousand times. I bury my face into the mat and whimper as his finger strums my pussy and his tongue tickles over my back. I can’t stop the shivers climbing up and down my spine, and my hips buck against the mattress, fucking Randall’s hands involuntarily. I want to come so badly. When will he stop playing?

  Shit.

  It feels so good, so good I want to stop, but then I want more of it. I’m going mad. He’s driving me crazy.

  Randall keeps going, each long swipe of his tongue teasing me from the inside out. He descends to one of my butt cheeks and laps up one dripping streak of chocolate.

  I laugh. I can’t help it. It tickles.

  “You’re torturing me,” I tell him lightly. “This is illegal!”

  I never thought that I would laugh and make jokes during sex… especially jokes about being tortured… but Vince is the furthest thing from my mind. The only man I know right now is Randall. He’s my world.

  Randall bites at my plush little asscheek playfully, and I gasp in delight. His fingers still pumps at my button, his free hand holding my hip in check so that I can’t arch off the mattress.

  “Delicious,” Randall says before biting on the other cheek.

  Tingles unleash down both my legs and I moan. I hump at the mattress, at his hand, wishing that I could see him and touch him right now. My pussy shudders.

  “You’re not the only one who’s hungry, you know,” I pant. “I’m fucking starving, Randall.”

  He chuckles and I hear his zipper peeling down. M
y body goes still with patience. I’d do anything for him right now. “Let me see if I have anything for you,” Randall breathes against my ear, and I feel his thick cock sting between my legs with its body heat. It feels like a roll of bread fresh from the oven, he’s so hot for me—and then it’s gone.

  He just takes it away and I yelped, lifting my hips to push myself off the mattress.

  “Uh uh,” Randall teases, pressing my hips back down

  “You promised… Now the other side.”

  He lifts me up and turns me around. I feel the stickiness of the chocolate on my back but I can’t complain; I can’t even think about it right now. He pours some of the chocolate on my chest and I’m so turned on by him that I want it now. I want that silky, warm syrup tracking down my breasts and pooling in the hollow my throat and anywhere else he wants it to be, because I want whatever he wants.

  Randall reaches up and unlaces my bikini top, taking a moment to gaze at my bare breasts, which seem to be staring back at him through their hard nipples. A slim river of warm chocolate syrup falls right in the valley between my breasts and I track my fingers through it as I smile at him, then bite down on my lower lip. “Get in here,” I plead softly. He’s going to break down for me.

  I hear the way Randall exhales strongly—like he’s trying to shake something—and then he continues tracing his syrup around my belly button. “Not done yet,” he says, pulling down the damp triangle of fabric that I still have between my legs, lacing even my mons in his chocolate sauce.

  “It’s a good thing you shaved,” he says, beaming up at me.

  My spine straightens at the distinct sensation of the warm chocolate syrup drizzling lightly on my pussy. “What are you doing?” I shrill, wondering if this is even safe, what kind of infection I might get from having chocolate dripped on my vagina, but before I can grab a computer and check WebMD, Randall pries and presses my thighs as far apart as they will go, exposing my pussy to him like it’s on a plate.

  He directly kisses my twat, tangling and twirling his tongue on me as if my pussy might be capable of kissing him back. It sets my sex on fire, and the flames spread down my legs, arcing up into my face. I’m kind of dizzy. Can you pass out from coming too hard?