Leveled

by TC Matson

  “Did you play with yourself last night?”

  She doesn’t answer me.

  Pinning her hands above her head, I stop short of her lips. “It’s in your eyes, Sunshine. Was I fucking you hard or making sweet love to you?”

  “Hard,” she exhales and I smirk.

  “Yeah?” I pinch her nipple and she rocks her hips forward. I grin like a shit-eating bastard.

  Dragging my hand down her ribs, I slip my hand under her waist band and find her soaked.

  “Safe to say you missed me too,” I state, repeating her words.

  She gasps when I press my fingers in. Tugging her hands, she pins me with pleading eyes, but I’m not in the mood for her to feel me yet. I trace my lips over her jaw line and she whimpers.

  I move her hands behind her back, switching them to one of my hands, and rid her of her pants. She steps out of them and pushes her foot into my crotch, trying to stroke my dick over my pants.

  I rise and shove my shorts down, allowing my dick to spring out. Her eyes drop to it and I smirk.

  “I’m eager to feel you,” I tell her.

  I move her arms around my neck, and by her legs, I hoist her up, and bring her down onto me.

  “Ohh…” she sighs, gripping my hair.

  Lifting her, gravity brings her down. I fill her over and over, and then put her back on the wood door and drive into her. Her face is toward the ceiling. Tits in my face, slapping together. Her body bounces up the door as I impale her with strong and hard thrusts, grunting as I power in.

  “Levi…” she warns. “I’m…”

  Pulling out, I step away, forcing her to stand on her own legs, and guide her by the back of her neck to the couch.

  “I pictured you losing yourself here.” Splaying my hand over her back, I push her over the side. “You were begging for me.”

  The smooth curve of her ass scatters with goosebumps as I trail my fingers gently over it.

  Lining back up, I slowly, so fucking tortuously, inch into her and then stop. Her hips writhe and I smile at the sight. She rocks forward and drops back down. I don’t move. Normally, she begs for my control. What kind of man would I be if I stopped her from being greedy?

  She’ll buckle soon and need me…

  “Levi…” she whines, pushing back.

  “What is it, Paige?” I ask, my tone thick and gravelly.

  “Please.”

  Ah, there it is…

  I withdrawal to my tip, and slam back it, pausing again.

  “Please…” she begs again and I repeat the process.

  “You can’t do this to me,” she murmurs and then looks over her shoulder. “Dammit, Levi.”

  Yeah. That’s what I wanted.

  I thrust forward, but I don’t stop. This time I mean business. My wife wants to be fucked, well fucked is what she shall get. She gulps when I slap her ass and then gently caress it.

  I’m hammering into her, the sound of our skin slapping, her pants, echoing in the room when she shifts, and instantly the walls of her pussy choke my cock. She cries out, a long, singing moan, frantically writhing her hips into me.

  Avidly, I drive into her, pumping ravenously to give her the fuck she was begging for. I grip her hair and easily-not-so-easily, tug her face to the ceiling and hang on to her hip.

  I come so fucking hard lights flash, electricity rocks me, powering through my body. My growl thunders out of me. My fucking toes curl as I root my pulsing dick.

  My heart is erratic when I pull out and flop to the couch, pulling her back into my chest.

  “Oh, my god,” she praises, satisfied, moving the sticky sweaty hair from her face.

  “I did dishes,” I exhale a chuckle.

  She giggles and reaches behind her to pat my leg. “I did laundry.”

  “Love it when we come together and reward good deeds…all pun intended.”

  Want to know how I know I married the right person? Paige is the only one whose meatloaf I like. If your woman can change your mind about your most hated meal, she’s a keeper. So, ladies, find out what your guy’s most disliked meal is and fix it like you mean business. If he likes it, you’re his “one.”

  I push back from the table and rub my stomach. “Too many more of them and I’ll live in the gym.”

  “I know better. I don’t want to ruin your perfect physique.” Although she says it with sarcasm, it tugs my chest.

  Grabbing her empty plate, I push from the table and set them on the counter. “Listen, I’m leaving out tomorrow night.”

  Her face wilts and I hate it.

  “They scheduled the meeting for Ryker in two days. I’m meeting him at LAS and heading in.”

  She arches her brows. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t, but it’s worth a try.” I shrug. “It’s one thing to abhor him and pummel him in the cage. It’s another when he actually does the right thing and gets punished for it. We don’t have to like each other to stand up for what’s right. I beat the shit out of the asshole who attacked Whitney and didn’t get reprimanded for it. He stands beside his girl and is dealt a retribution. It’s not right. Fuck them.”

  “And if they don’t give him a second shot?” she asks with questioning eyes.

  “They will.”

  “What’s Nick doing while you’re gone?” she asks.

  “I gave him a choice—go home for a week or stay and train on his own. Either way his next fight isn’t for several months. He’ll be fine.”

  She drags her fingers along my jaw. “You did the dishes again.”

  I smirk. “I love you.”

  Chapter 15

  Eight months later…

  I’m exhausted, worse than what I would be during a marathon training. Why? Because of a three-foot-tall, thirty pound three-year-old. Zayne. This kid doesn’t stop. He won’t sit longer than four seconds before his little legs pop him back up, and he scampers off to the next thing he wants to mess with.

  Not even five minutes of being left alone with him, I had to piss. I come back and little dude has unpeeled all six of my bananas. Aww…you say? No. No awww. Had he not decided to squash them all, I could’ve saved them. But nope. He was determined to make a mushy fucking pile of banana nasty.

  Let me not fail to mention, he eats more than a grown ass man. Hell, probably more than me when I’m scarfing down five thousand calories a day during my marathon training.

  He’s eating everything.

  Everything.

  Evveerrryyyttthiinnnggg….

  Adam and Kelsie came into town for the weekend to “just get away” and catch up with us. This afternoon, they come up with the grand idea to grab dinner while Paige had to run off with Holly for some shit, leaving me alone with a three-year-old pent up bottle of exploding energy.

  “Weevi.” He taps my leg, his little brown eyes wide. “I need to poop.”

  I leap to my feet, grabbing him under his arms and yanking him up. “Did you poop already?” I stammer, freaking out.

  He laughs his normal cute ass laugh—but it’s not cute in the freak of the moment—and he shakes his head.

  Sprinting toward the bathroom, his little legs dangle, jerking from side to side as I round the corners and hold him out with straight arms. “You can poop on the toilet, right?” I’m breathless through my panic. “Dude, you know I can’t do diapers. If you poop your pants, we’re going to have problems.”

  I place his feet on the bathroom floor, snatch his pants down, and freeze at his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underwear.

  “I’m going to have to talk to your dad about allowing you to wear such crappy underwear. We all know Superman is better. Right?”

  He just looks at me.

  “Little dude, Superman is a hero. The turtles eat pizza and live in the sewer. Superman is so much cooler than the turtles. Got it?”

  He nods.

  I slam them down to his ankles and plop his butt on the toilet. He teeters for a second before getting his hands in
the right spot to balance. Then he glances up to me with angry eyes. “Get out!”

  I throw my hands up. “Okay!”

  How fucking long does it take a three-year-old to poop? It’s been five minutes and I haven’t heard a sound.

  Not like I’m lis—okay, I’m listening. It’s nasty, but does he know not to play in it? Does he know the toilet isn’t a wet sandbox with brown Play-Doh? I’m not willing to find out if his parents have taught him that. Not for a second.

  “Zayne, dude, you good?”

  “Finished!” he calls out. “I ready for you wipe.”

  My heart slams my chest. My eyes bulge clear out of my head. My spine snaps me straight. “Wait. What? Wipe?” I open the door and stick my head in. “You need me to wipe your butt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, little dude. We’re going to be in big trouble.”

  And then it hits me—putrid, ranking ass stink. I gag and gag again, my eyes watering from the burn. Waving my hands in front of my face, I ask, “What the hell did you eat?” It comes out garbled…through another gag.

  Zayne kicks his feet and laughs. “Bananas!”

  Okay, it makes me laugh too and then gag, and he laughs harder each time I heave.

  When Zayne was a baby, we found out I don’t do shit diapers. Nope. Not this man. It came as a surprise to me too. I’ve wrestled around in another man’s blood unfazed, but you stick a brown shit bomb out for me to see and it’s puke city.

  Kelsie thought a mask like the doctors wear would help—nope. The smell only latched on to the fabric.

  Then Adam had a brilliant idea to try toothpaste under my nose—nope. I could taste the shit. Taste. The. Shit. Nope.

  I scratch my head. How the hell am I going to do this?

  “Weevi, wipe me butt,” he says pointing to the toilet paper.

  I give him the look—the I’m not a dumbass look. Sighing, and sucking up my wimpy shit, I wrap my hand six times way too many and bend my knees, bracing my legs. I’m stanced like I’m about to spring into a fight.

  “I’m locked and loaded,” I say, mainly to myself. “Your uncle can fight with blood and sweat but your poop is my kryptonite.”

  Little dude with the big smelling shit laughs at me and then leans forward.

  Here goes…

  I shove my hand into the unknown. It’s a fucking smeary abyss back here, and I don’t look when I drop the toilet paper and flush. Again, I repeat the process going in for the kill like a real man.

  Yeah. Like a real man. I’ve got this.

  “Youwer ‘pose to chek it,” he says.

  I bark a laugh and tip my chin. “Dude, you check it.”

  He shakes his head. “You chek it. I ‘pose to be cwean. Mommy make me cwean.”

  Maybe I don’t have this after all…

  I level my view on him. “If I see poop, I’m throwing up on your lap.” It’s the damn truth too.

  Sweet eyes roll up to me. “I move.”

  A chuckle bursts from me, but I quickly recover. Time to man up. I wipe and ever so slowly, take a peek.

  “Clean!” I roar my excitement and throw my fists up.

  He plops off the toilet and pulls his little pants up, holding his shirt to his neck and looking to me expectantly.

  “I need helwp bunnonning,” he says. I think that’s translated to—I need help buttoning them. Either way, no way I can fuck this up.

  I snap his button back, help him reach the soap and water, and then…he’s gone, running down the hall back to the living room.

  Chapter 16

  An hour ago, I settled Zayne down by putting some dumbass cartoon on. They don’t make cartoons like they used to. This shit is for the birds.

  Anyway, little dude curled up on my side and I kid you not, he dropped like a light, out within two minutes. Play hard, crash hard. I wasn’t too far behind. The cartoon sucked and Zayne had absorbed every drop of my energy.

  Adam and Kelsie come through the door, all smiles.

  I slice my eyes at him. “You set me up.”

  Adam tries to hide the smile ticking on his lips. “Take it you had a good time?”

  I harden my glare. “I’m buying the kid some gloves and we’re going to work his energy off. He’s exhausting.”

  Adam laughs, but Kelsie rocks back on her heels, shaking her head. “You won’t buy him gloves. You won’t be teaching him to fight. I don’t want to worry about him getting hurt.”

  I flick my view to Adam and then back to her and smirk. “Precisely why you let me teach him. He’ll not get hurt. And starting him so young—”

  “Nope,” she says and scoops him off my lap.

  I stretch my dead legs out. “I don’t want my nephew growing up to be a pansy. Let me teach him how to handle the world. I mean, dude can’t even wipe his own ass.”

  Kelsie smiles, rolling her eyes. “He tries.”

  “Yeah. Tries.”

  She burns me with a momma-bear, serious as fuck glare. “He won’t grow up to be a pansy and I sure as hell don’t want him to be an egotistical bone-headed jackass.”

  I laugh and tip my head to Adam. “You’re with the jackass.”

  Adam punches my arm. “You’ve rubbed off on me.”

  “Paige said she put fresh sheets on the bed and has something for Zayne to sleep in downstairs. You’re more than welcome to stay here,” I tell them. We have a fully furnished basement, yet these knuckleheads want to get a hotel room.

  My phone rings and right on cue, my wife is calling.

  “Didn’t you put a bed downstairs for Zayne?” Yeah, it’s how I answer.

  She giggles. “Hello to you too. Yes. And clean sheets. I bought a Pack ‘n Play for them. Why? Are they really staying in a hotel?” she asks.

  I look to Kelsie. “She bought a Pack ‘n Play. It’s down stairs. You know, free of charge.”

  “I’m on the way home.” I know Paige well enough to know there’s something wrong.

  “You alright?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Paige,” I warn. “You’re a shit liar.”

  “I’m going to pick up dinner. I’ll be home soon. Love you.”

  And…she’s gone.

  Paige doesn’t just hang up on me for the fun of hanging up on me. She’s never been a hanger-upper. She thrives on being the good-byer, the one who has to say she loves me each and every time just before she finishes the call. She always waits until the conversation is over. I haven’t been hung up on since…the fuck if I remember. Years? So imagine my confusion as I stare at my phone.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Adam jests.

  I shrug and then switch gears because being in my business isn’t where he needs to be. “Paradise departed in the toilet. What the hell do you two feed him?”

  Kelsie cackles. “Was it another diaper episode? Did we miss it? Did you throw up this time?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Close.”

  Chapter 17

  “You have to tell him,” Holly says.

  I just dropped her off at her apartment, but I’m a nervous wreck mixed with all types of emotions.

  “If you don’t, and you wait and he finds out, he’ll be irate. And probably at the wrong person,” she adds.

  “This isn’t how I pictured things happening,” I tell her. “I don’t know how he’s going to react.”

  “You’ve been with him for, like, ever. He’ll understand. Right? You see his pretty face every day. You should know how he’s going to react,” she says.

  I sigh. “He’s unpredictable. You know that.”

  “In certain situations. I think you’re the one overreacting. All will be glorious in the Stiles residence.”

  I pull into the driveway and shut my car off. “I’ll text you if this goes bad.”

  “It won’t. Gooood luuuccckkk,” she sings as she hangs up.

  I step into the house on shaky legs. I had an inkling about this, but I couldn’t fathom how. I mean, we�
��ve been together for years. How? And why now?

  Adam’s on the love seat with a beer, Levi’s spread out on the couch, owning all four cushions. His head snaps my way, and he’s eyeing me curiously, like he always does when he senses something is wrong. Trying to keep surprises from him is a hell of a feat.

  Adam stands, stretching his body. “We took the offer. I expect breakfast.” He chuckles and then kisses my cheek.

  “Where’s Kel?” I ask.

  “She put Zayne to bed. Pretty sure she’s knocked out too. I’m heading that way. Have a good night.”

  He disappears behind the same door I used to see Blain popping in and out of before making my way to the love seat and wringing my fingers.

  “You going to spill it or let me conclude whatever hell my mind is making up?” Levi says, shifting forward, scooting to the end of the cushion. “Paige, what’s wrong?”

  I scrunch my face and give him a smile. “Not necessarily wrong…”

  He rubs his jaw. “But?”

  “I’ve got something for you.”

  I pull out the little box Holly and I bought for this and hand it to him. “I’m sure I don’t have anything to worry about, and I may be overanalyzing it, but we’ve talked about it before and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it,” I say, stringing my sentences together in a nervous rush.

  My heart batters my chest as he slowly opens it. I was worried they would jostle around in my purse, but judging by his wide eyes, the Pregnant is staring at him.

  He glances up to me. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Per the five tests I took, they all say so.”

  A grin slices across his face and he bounds over the table, knocking things off and then wraps me up in the tightest hug. He slams kisses all over my face. “Sunshine, you’re pregnant.” He kisses me again on the cheek, this time so hard it hurts. But then he leans back. “When I said I didn’t want kids until my career wound down, I didn’t mean if it popped up, I didn’t want them.”

  He springs to his feet, rushes over to the door and whisper yells for Adam. Seconds later, he appears and Levi shoves his shoulder.