The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella

by Martin, R. C.

  I laugh, amused, impressed, and horny as hell at the way my girl is playing with me.

  “I like this game,” she murmurs.

  “I think I might like it, too.”

  “Yeah?” she kisses one of my cheeks and then the other. “I think that might mean I’m not teasing you nearly as much as I should be.” Her lips find mine before I’m gifted another strawberry. As soon as she tosses away the stem, her hands find their way underneath my shirt. As she slides her hands up, taking the material with her, I lift my arms in response to her speechless demand.

  She caresses my chest with feather soft kisses and my desire to touch her all over in return becomes undeniable. When I reach for her, she giggles and pulls my hands away. “Hands behind your head, mister.” I obey with a smirk, surrendering to my woman while she’s immersed in this rare form of dominance.

  When she unbuckles my belt and opens my shorts, my breathing grows shallow. “Ave?” She ignores me, reaching her hand into my boxers to pull out my rock hard dick. “Avery…” I barely get her name out as her small hands work their way up and down the length of my shaft.

  My little mama is playing dirty. It’s so hot, and I’m so turned on, it’s unreal.

  I’m not prepared for the sensation of her tongue against the sensitive flesh of my head. One wet lick has my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Shiiiiiiiit, Ave!” I groan. When she closes her lips around me, I can no longer keep my hands to myself. The second I tangle my fingers in her hair, she pulls away from me.

  “Mr. O’Conner—you’re breaking the rules.”

  I grit my teeth, irritatingly pleased to follow along. I bring my hands back up behind my head, weaving my fingers together. She hums her amusement before the warmth of her mouth engulfs me. She doesn’t blow me often. It’s not her favorite thing. I don’t mind, as I’d much rather make love to her pussy anyway. However, we promised each other that if we ever wanted to get off, we wouldn’t do it alone; sometimes she’ll let me fuck her mouth when she’s in the middle of her cycle. Even though it’s not her first choice, she’s a damn quick study and I won’t deny how good it feels to be inside her mouth.

  I usually like to watch. She knows it, my little tease, and it kills me that she’s somehow managed to take both sight and touch away from me. “You’re not playing fair, Shorty,” I stutter.

  She sucks harder, beckoning a groan that seems to resonate from the deepest part of me. I know if she keeps going, I’ll come in no time. “Sweetheart—if you don’t stop—” She pulls away with a pop and when her lips press against mine, I’m done playing her game.

  I yank the blindfold off and pull her against me, kissing her hungrily. She moans and I have her on her back in an instant. She pushes my shorts down over my ass as I pull her dress up. It gets stuck just above her waist and she grins at me when I give her a quizzical frown, desperate for a solution.

  “Zipper,” she tells me, reaching for her side.

  “That’s a stupid place for a zipper,” I mutter, pulling away from her in order to yank the rest of my clothes off. She giggles and I smirk, relieved to find her dress in a heap on the floor when I roll back on top of her. “Much better,” I say, my mouth grazing hers.

  When my fingers slide under the thin fabric of her panties, she lifts her hips so that I can slide them out of my way. “Make love to me, Grayson,” she begs.

  “That’s the plan, gorgeous. First—”

  “No,” she sighs, wrapping her legs around my hips. “Later. You can do whatever you want later, but Hottie—I’m ready. I need you. Please. I want to feel you come.”

  “Shorty,” I speak her name as I bury myself inside of her. She whimpers with pleasure and my cock throbs at the sound. “Have I told you lately how sexy you are?” She grins at me as she reaches up to sink her fingers in my hair. “I love you, so much, Mrs. O’Conner.”

  “I love you, too. Forever and always.”

  “Forever and always.”

  I can hardly believe that in just a couple of weeks classes will start up again. It seems as if August has vanished right before my eyes. My summer with Grayson wasn’t what I thought it would be. Last year our days were filled with last minute wedding details and packing for our big move. This break between semesters has been filled with a different sort of anticipation. With my sister’s wedding, our anniversary, and news of a baby on the way, it’s safe to say that we’ve had an exciting few months.

  For the last three weeks, Grayson and I have spent our evenings the same. When he gets home from work, we go for a jog before we eat dinner. After we clean up, we then spend the rest of the night reading about what we can expect with my pregnancy. Just before bed, we discuss possible baby names before we make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

  It took us a little while to really wrap our heads around the fact that this will be our last summer with just the two of us. Since the reality of our baby has started to blossom, we’ve been taking advantage of our free time. On the weekends that I don’t have gigs, we’ve been spending a great deal of time with friends. Not to say that we won’t have the chance to see them when the baby comes, but we understand that it’ll certainly be different.

  Tonight, we’re out with everyone from my string quintet. Clifton brought his girlfriend, Kayla, and Brenna brought her boyfriend, Shane. Everyone is drinking except for Sonny and me and I’m grateful that no one questions our lack of consumption. Since Sonny never drinks, it’s not very noteworthy that I’m not. I’m just a few days away from twelve weeks in my pregnancy and I’m anxious to tell my friends! Rule of thumb is that I wait until my first trimester is complete. I’m counting down the days while I do my best to hide the beginning of my recent growth.

  I’m halfway through my third mozzarella stick, listening to Paul as he tells the group a funny story about his childhood, when I grow nauseous. I set aside the last bit of fried, cheesy deliciousness and rest a hand against my unsettled stomach. I take a few deep breaths in hopes that I won’t have to make a mad dash to the restrooms.

  “Hey, are you alright?” asks Grayson as his hand slides across my belly and over the top of my resting fingers. Since I’ve begun to develop a little baby bump, my dear husband has become quite fascinated with my changing body. His touch makes me feel beautiful and I’m sure I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have a husband like him. “Sweetheart?”

  I nod when I realize I’ve been so lost in my thoughts, trying to take deep breathes, that I haven’t answered him. “I just don’t feel very well. The cheese—I don’t know. It’s suddenly not agreeing with me.”

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  I think about it for a moment, trying to assess exactly how I feel. I’m not convinced that I’ll throw up, but I know something is off. “Yeah,” I finally reply. “I think I just need to lay down.” He nods, kissing my temple before he excuses himself to go find our waiter.

  “Is everything okay?” asks Brenna, who sits beside me.

  “Yeah,” I assure her. “I’m not feeling well so Grayson and I are going to head out. I think he went to pay our portion of the bill.”

  “Oh, no. You’re leaving already?” asks Tiffany with a pout.

  “Sorry, guys,” I reply with a feeble shrug.

  “You do look a little pale,” Kayla observes.

  “Do I?” I reach up and cover my cheeks with my hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say, aware that sickness is part of pregnancy. I haven’t really felt this ill before, but I’ve been waiting for it. Of course, this isn’t news I can tell my friends. “I probably just need to rest.”

  Just then, I feel Sonny’s warm hand against the small of my back and I turn to smile up at him. “You ready?” he asks.

  I nod in response before sliding off of my stool. We say our goodbyes and then before I know it, we’re home. My stomach ache has grown worse but I try not to complain. Instead, I take off my clothes and change into one of Grayson’s t-shirts before climbing into bed. />
  “Can I get you anything? Water or crackers or something? I can run to the store and—”

  “No, Hottie. I’m alright,” I promise. “I’m just going to try and sleep it off.”

  “Okay,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair. “I’ll come to bed in a little bit.”

  “Sounds good.” I can’t help but smile when he stays with me a while longer, comforting me as he continues to stroke my hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to name our little one Grayson Junior?” I know, even with my eyes closed, that he’s shaking his head at me.

  “I’m sure. Our little one will already have my last name. Besides, I think I might like the name Charlie.”

  I open my eyes and search for his. “After your uncle?”

  “Yeah. Technically, his name was Charles, but I like just Charlie. It’s what I called him.” He shrugs. “If it wasn’t for him, I would probably have never ended up in Colorado. If I never ended up in Colorado, I would have never met you.”

  It only takes a second for me to decide that I love his idea. I suck in a breath as I’m struck with another thought. “Charlie—L-I-E for a boy. Charlee—L-E-E for a girl. I like it for both. What do you think?”

  “I think my little mama is onto something,” he replies with a smirk.

  I hum my satisfaction, pleased to hear my new nickname and that he favors my idea. I close my eyes and imagine what it’ll be like to have a little Charlie or Charlee running around, clinging to our ankles. I have no idea what our future holds, but what I’m sure of is that our little family will grow. No matter what, we’ll make it work.

  Grayson’s fingertips on my scalp feel really good and as we fall silent, I’m asleep before he leaves my side.

  I wake with a gasp. I’m not sure if it was the gasp or the pain that pulled me from out of my slumber. Before I can think twice about it, another cramp tugs at my abdomen. I sit up abruptly, wincing at the feel of my body’s protest in response to my movement. That’s when I feel it. My panties are wet.

  No! No, no,no.

  Panic leaves me frozen as I try and justify why my panties are wet. The room is dark, aside from the small amount of moonlight that pours through the curtains that cover our bedroom window. Part of me is grateful that I can’t see; grateful that when I pull the covers away, I can’t tell if I’ve somehow lost control of my bladder or—

  Another sharp pain causes me to whimper and my pathetic attempt to tiptoe into denial is eradicated.

  I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding a lot!

  I don’t know what to do. Something is obviously, horribly wrong, but I don’t know what to do! Instinct tells me to keep my legs sealed together. I do the best that I can, but for some reason my knees are knocking against each other. It dawns on me that I’m trembling from head to toe.

  Yet another horrendous pain has me crying out—this time, I call for my husband.

  “Oh—God, no! Please—Grayson!”

  He’s jolted awake at the sound of my voice. His large frame jostles my little one and I squeeze my legs together ever tighter, in a desperate attempt to protect our child.

  “Ave, what is it?” he asks, sitting up to turn on the bedside lamp.

  I scream when the light reveals that I’m not simply wearing a pair of soiled underwear. No—I’m in the middle of blood soaked sheets. I wrap my arms around my middle as another cramp heightens my panic. My heart is beating so fast I feel like I might pass out. Then I feel Grayson’s hand slide over my hair before he gently grips my neck.

  “Breathe, sweetheart!” he insists. When I look at him, I can barely make out his face, my eyes overflowing with tears I wasn’t aware I was crying.

  Everything seems to be happening without my permission! I feel so completely out of control of my entire body.

  Oh, God—not my baby. Please don’t take my baby! Help me! Help us! Please!

  My muscles lock up when I feel a pair of big, strong hands grab hold of my knees. “No!” I shout. When I look up, I notice that Grayson is fully dressed. I shake my head, wondering when he left my side.

  “Come on, Ave—we have to go. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “I can’t!” I sob. “I can’t move. The baby—if I move—” I’m cut off by another pain. All at once I realize that these aren’t just cramps. My womb is attacking our baby.

  “Avery, sweetheart, look at me,” Grayson insists, gripping his hands around my face. When I look into his eyes, I see his fear and my heart breaks. I can see it in his green irises just as clear as if he were painting it on a billboard…

  I’m losing our baby.

  “Oh, Shorty, please? Will you please listen to me. Let me help you. Just—trust me, sweetheart. I have to get you out of here.”

  “Our baby…” I choke.

  I don’t stop him when he slides my legs into a pair of pants I know are at least five sizes too big for me. I don’t stop him, but I don’t help him either. I can barely think let alone move—the pain I feel escalating with every breath I take. As I’m lifted into his arms, I can no longer differentiate the agony in my womb from the agony in my chest.

  Our baby. I’m losing our baby.

  The hospital is twenty minutes away from our apartment. I get us there in seven. It’s only by the grace of God that a cop doesn’t spot me driving like a bat out of hell. Nothing, no one, could have stopped me from getting to my final destination as quickly as possible. I would have rather been arrested after a high speed chase than delay our arrival to the hospital.

  Yet, regardless of how fast I managed to get us here, I’m terrified that it took too long.

  I park right in front of the emergency room and I’m out of the car in a fraction of a second. Avery’s cries have turned to weak whimpers. I don’t fool myself into thinking that her pain has lessened since the moment she woke me up, screaming. I have no idea how much blood she’s lost or whether or not her pain has reached a level she simply cannot tolerate, but she’s quickly approaching unconsciousness.

  “Somebody help! Help me, please!” I cry as soon as I have her in my arms.

  Avery’s body is like a wilted flower cradled against my chest. My heart is beating so fast, my adrenaline in overdrive, as I race into the building. I know if someone doesn’t help me in the next two seconds, I’m going to lose it.

  “Sir? Sir—what’s going on? How can I help you?” A woman in a pair of plain blue scrubs stands before me, her eyes zeroed in on Avery.

  “She’s bleeding—she won’t stop bleeding, and she’s in an unbearable amount of pain. She’s pregnant.”

  “How far along is she?”

  “Almost twelve weeks. Please—”

  “I need a gurney over here,” she calls out.

  The words leave her mouth and then everything seems to happen in fast forward. Suddenly, my wife is no longer in my arms. In the blink of an eye, I’m informed that Avery is having a miscarriage and we’re given two options to help alleviate the situation—drugs or surgery. The doctor, whose name I honestly can’t remember, suggests the surgery, given Avery’s response to her current pain, as it will bring her relief much faster.

  Some thoughtless asshole chooses now to tell me that I can’t leave my Mustang parked where I’ve left it. I toss him my keys and tell him to take care of it before I turn my attention back to my wife.

  I look to Avery, completely at a loss as to what to do. This is her body and I’ve never had to make a choice like this before. More than that, I can hardly comprehend the fact that we’re talking about the best way to handle the death of our unborn child.

  “Avery, sweetheart,” I say softly, taking her hand in mine as I rest my forehead against hers. “Tell me what to do. What do you want to do, sweetheart?”

  “I can’t—I can’t do this,” she sobs, barely squeezing my hand. “Oh, Grayson, it hurts!”

  That’s all the answer I need.

  “Explain the surgery,” I insist.

  Forty minutes later, I watch as they roll Avery
down the corridor in order for her to undergo ERPC surgery. I can’t even remember what the fuck that stands for. All I care about is that I’m told it won’t take long and that I’ll be able to see her as soon as they are finished. We’ll be discharged to go home when the general anesthesia has worn off. It isn’t until she’s out of my sight that I question what the hell I’m supposed to do now. I pace around the waiting room for a few minutes, replaying the horrible chain of events that brought us here. As the memories flash before my eyes, I go numb.

  It kills me, remembering the look in her eyes when she was coherent enough to hear me tell her that I was bringing her to the hospital. I know, now, what terror truly looks like. It’s horrifying and heartbreaking and my chest aches knowing that there’s nothing I could have done to save her from her own fear—there’s nothing I can do to erase that moment for her. I wish I could—I so desperately wish that I could change all of this. I feel helpless. She’s in surgery and I’m—

  I reach for my phone as it dawns on me that Avery is in surgery and our parents don’t know. I have no idea what time it is in Colorado—hell, I don’t know what time it is here—but it doesn’t matter. They would want me to call.

  “Hello?” Ray answers, his voice gruff with sleep. “Grayson?”

  I hear the concern in his voice. I’ve never called him in the middle of the night. I’ve never had a reason to. I’ve never been faced with an emergency concerning his daughter—my wife. I’ve never needed him like I need him right now. I’ve never needed a father like I do right now. And the sound of his voice—just the sound of his voice—reminds me that he’s my dad just as much as he is Avery’s. Everything I want to be, everything I hope to accomplish as a father, I have learned from him.

  Then, like a sucker punch that hits me right in the gut—hard as fuck—I realize what I’ve just lost.

  I drop down into a chair, covering my eyes with my free hand, and lose my shit.

  “Grayson? What’s wrong? Talk to me, son.”