Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone)

by R. C. Stephens

  I let out a breath of air. “You go. I have everything covered,” I reassure my sister. A part of her must know I’m winging this, but she’s acting like it’s all good. “Go,” I urge her again. “My niece and nephew will be fine with me.”

  “I know.” She leans up to give me a peck on the cheek. “You’re the best brother a girl could ask for.”

  She then walks over to Sloane and gives her hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says softly.

  Sloane hugs her back and whispers, “me too.”

  And with that, my sister leaves the house.

  Sloane looks to me with wide eyes. “Now what?”

  Thirteen

  Sloane

  The babies woke up, and they won’t stop crying. I swear I don’t know how Flynn takes care of them. Just hearing those loud cries, no matter how sweet they sound, sends my blood pressure soaring.

  “I think they’re hungry,” Oli says, looking more frazzled than me. The first five minutes after Flynn left, I stared at Oli doe-eyed as he held Kevin in his arms. His thick biceps cradling the tiny little baby caused flutters in my stomach. The giant was not only handsome but looked like he would make a good dad one day.

  That was until Kevin started crying and woke up Patty. Now we can’t get either of them to stop. It’s only four thirty in the afternoon. Flynn left specific instructions that they both needed to eat at five thirty. Does that mean we improvise?

  “It isn’t time yet,” I reply, doing a rocking dance with Patty in my arms, hoping that’s the right answer.

  “You shouldn’t rock her,” Oli chides me. “Flynn has told me many times not to rock her since she doesn’t want them getting used to rocking.” He grins and nods, as if he is the professional here. “I swear she almost bit my head off last time I was over and rocked Patty.”

  I don’t listen to him because Flynn isn’t here, and Patty sounds near hysterical. Kevin’s wailing grows frantic, and it wipes the smug grin right off of Oli’s perfect lips.

  “Shit.” He shoots up to a standing position and starts to do the same rocking dance as me. I want to scold him for admonishing me only moments ago, but he looks so adorable I smile.

  “See? This dance thing kind of works.” I smirk knowingly. At least the wailing has turned into a subtler cry.

  “Yeah it does,” he admits, and ads a sway to his hips, as if he’s in a club. With the panty-dropping grin he’s feeding me, it’s hard not to smile back or be turned on.

  “Holy crap, Oli. Keep the moves PG. These are two babies,” I berate him, unable to hold back my burst of laughter as he moves his sexy behind in a rocking motion. I want to stop staring at his ass, but he won’t stop moving, which makes it an impossible task.

  I figure he can have some of his own medicine, and so with Patty in my arms, I do one of those Beyoncé moves where she circles her bottom. I face the wall to give Oli a clear view of my ass.

  Fair is fair.

  He hisses. “Damn, woman, that’s a fine ass.” He keeps up his own dancing. If we weren’t standing in the middle of his old family room with two babies in each of our arms, you would think that we were having some sort of dance-off.

  I giggle, out of breath, “they’re asleep,” I whisper.

  I point to the bassinets set up in each of the playpens in the room, motioning that we should probably put them down lest we really will get an earful from Flynn about rocking them or holding them too long, since it messes with their sleep patterns or something.

  We ease the babies down and fall back on the couch, out of breath. Oli heaves a sigh and looks at me, his golden–green eyes warm and inviting. “They’re a handful,” he exhales heavily.

  “They are,” I agree, pulling my eyes from his penetrating stare in fear I may drift toward him and try to kiss him again. He’s like a magnet. Just as I pull my gaze from him I hear a soft noise, like little, tiny baby rockets are shooting off.

  I find myself staring back into his eyes, only now mine are wide, and his are cool, green and round. “Fuck! Is that what I think it is?” he asks with a hint of fear in his tone.

  “Um, I think so.” I wince, a little dazed and confused. “I think we better do something about it. Which one do you think it was?”

  That’s when it happens again—more shooting rocket noises. “I think it was both of them.” He lets out a heavy breath.

  “I think you’re right,” I sigh, still wide-eyed.

  “Which one do you want?” he asks, as if we’ve entered the twilight zone.

  I shake my head. “No, no way. We gotta do this together. Group effort here.”

  He nods and stands to get Patty, only he doesn’t cradle her to his body like he was doing before. Instead, he holds her straight in front of him like she’s a stink bomb waiting to go off. I quickly get to work, setting up the change table like I’ve seen Flynn do many times, laying the diaper open and prepping the butt cream and wipes. Once I’m done, I take a few steps back, and Oli lays her down on the table.

  He turns his head to look for me. “Are you coming over here to help me?”

  “Um . . .” I pause and take a few steps forward.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re doing Patty. I’ll get little Kev,” he says with his deep baritone voice. Even now in this dire situation, I find that voice too attractive. It’s thick timbre sends want and need through my body. I shake my head to get a grip. We are in a shitty situation. No pun intended.

  “Okay,” I concede. He steps out of the way and I smile to little Patty. Lucky Chance is keeping his distance, but I guess he’s used to being with the babies at home. “Right.” I unbutton little Patty’s sleeper and undershirt, but when I get to the diaper, it seems like an explosion has gone off.

  “Jesus! What does my sister feed these kids?” Oli scoffs.

  I don’t reply. “Can you hold my nose?” I ask him.

  “What?” He looks confused.

  “Hold my nose dammit. I need my hands,” I snap.

  He laughs so hard his shoulders shake but he takes hold of my nose. Only it wasn’t a good idea, because now he’s in my face and I can’t focus on Patty when I have him this close, his taut body distracts me while I need to change a diaper.

  I push his finger away and take a big breath as I open the diaper.

  Oli grins and softly says, “You’re adorable.”

  A part of me wishes he was talking to Patty, but it’s hard to mistake the direction of his warm gaze.

  I pick up the diaper, not knowing where to start. I figure a handful of wipes is useful. I get to work, wiping sweet little Patty up. When I’m done, I place her back in her playpen. I need to go wash my hands. I leave for the kitchen, feeling proud of my accomplishment. It really wasn’t that bad.

  “Hey, where did you go? Get back here,” Oli orders with a little fear in his tone.

  “To wash my hands, dumbass. I just touched crap, if you hadn’t noticed,” I call out. I hear him laugh from the distance.

  “What do I do with Kev?” he calls out.

  “You change his diaper just like I did Patty’s. That was the deal, remember?” I return to the family room, one eyebrow cocked as I stare at the handsome giant hovering over the cute little baby. For some reason, Oli’s shoulders look even wider, and the smile he wears for the little boy is delicious. It makes me want him more. I’ve been pining over a guy who is out of my reach. He’s unattainable; he won’t settle down, and I’ll never be the type to offer him a one-night stand. Maybe I’ve been using him as a scapegoat all along. Even as I think the words they don’t feel right. Oli has become important to me. My feelings for him are real. I still don’t know if I would have gone through with sex last night. Maybe I told him I was a virgin because deep down I wanted him to slam the breaks on what was happening in that bed.

  Little Kev begins to complain.

  “You better get to it. We don’t want him having another crying fit again.” I grin mischievously as I wait for Oli to change the diaper. Ad
mittedly, it’s a damn sexy thing to watch a jock like him doing just that.

  He pushes his sweater sleeves up his strong forearms and gets to work on Kev’s sleeper, then his undershirt. When he reaches the diaper, he takes a step back. “This is some potent crap.” He winces, clapping his hands together. He stretches his neck in both directions, as if he’s prepping for a play or something.

  I laugh so hard I’m holding my belly.

  He gives me a sidelong glance. “Laugh all you want. Watch how the master changes a diaper,” he says, clearly with a competitive streak. He opens one side of the diaper, followed by the other. “Geez, Kev, this is a real manly dump, my man,” he says, sounding nasal.

  My laughing continues, only my chest is warm as I watch him wipe the baby down. Suddenly, there’s a sprinkler going off all over Oli’s sweater. It hits him in the eye. Oli cusses and scrambles to cover Kevin’s little weenie with a diaper. Only it’s too late because little Kev has pissed all over his giant uncle.

  I fall to the floor, laughing.

  “This isn’t funny, Sloane,” Oli growls while scowling at me.

  “Yes. It is,” I retort.

  He whips off his sweater. “He got me in my eye,” he whines.

  My laughing fizzles out as I take in his chiseled chest, wide shoulders, and abs of steel. I take a large gulp as memories of me raking my hands over that glorious golden skin of his bombard me.

  Oli quickly gets to work changing Kev’s diaper before we have another piss attack. I can’t seem to peel my eyes off the burly jock in front of me. His eyes meet mine and he cocks a brow, then says, “Here.”

  He passes Kevin into my arms. I can’t help but enjoy the little baby scent, and I hold him close to me. Oli stalks off. My gaze follows him. “Hey, where are you going? Get back here. I can’t be alone with these two.” I practically whimper as he walks farther and farther away.

  “I’m hitting the shower. I’m covered in piss,” I hear him mutter, his voice all the way by the staircase.

  “You can’t leave me with these two babies, Oliver,” I practically scream, but it’s no use. He’s gone. I place Kevin in his playpen and pray that he’ll sleep and not cry.

  I wait impatiently on the edge of the couch, watching these cute babies while biting my nails. I have a whole new respect for Flynn. Two babies are not easy. Maybe twins run in their family. If I married Oli, then maybe he’ll have the twin gene too, and I will have twins. I would never manage. Another reason to stay away from Oliver Russell. Then I remind myself the most important part of my argument: Oli isn’t the settling-down type so none of this really matters. I blow out a breath.

  Fourteen

  Oli

  The house is quiet. I heard Myles walk in about an hour ago. Flynn came home earlier to help get the babies to bed and prepare herself for the night with formula and warm water for the bottles. Man, kids are so much work. Makes me realize even more what great parents I had.

  Since I’ve been back here, I haven’t been able to stop talking to them in my head. Mom and Dad would have doted on those babies. There was so much they never truly got to experience. It reminds me of my first NHL game. I had always pictured Dad’s proud face watching me from the front row when I played my first game, because my dream was his dream.

  I was a fucking wreck back then. I was drowning in a black hole. Only now, I can’t be sad because I know my parents are watching over us, and in this house, I feel it in an eerie way. They wouldn’t want to see me sad or depressed. This trip has been cathartic in the sense that I feel like I can show them that Flynn and I did okay on our own. Me with my career, and Flynn with her career, husband, and babies.

  Then there’s Sloane. The girl’s a walking distraction. I swear she says the quirkiest things and then blushes when I just gaze at her. I want to fuck her bad, especially now that I know she’s untouched. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I’m thinking it’s another issue to add to my twisted list of issues. Besides, I can’t fuck her. I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her when I walk away, and I always walk away.

  It’s now close to one a.m. Sleep eludes me, so I trudge out of bed and head downstairs. Maybe a beer and a movie will help clear my mind.

  I pass Flynn’s old room, and hear her and Myles whispering. I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. Myles’s dad’s surgery went well today, but his old man has a long road to recovery ahead.

  Sloane is staying in the spare bedroom. I haven’t seen or heard from her since we ate dinner hours ago. The distance is a good thing right now, because I’m so uptight it wouldn’t take much for me to snap and take what I want. If I were back home, I’d hook up with a bunny just to release the tension, even though that isn’t what I truly want right now. Not when the memory of a drunk Sloane practically begging me to fuck her is so fresh in my mind. As the memories rush over me, I remember what it felt like back in the hotel in Ann Arbor, licking her sweet pussy while the most erotic sounds escaped her mouth. Thinking of the way she came gives me a semi. Fucking hell! I think the girl may have ruined me.

  The main floor is dark as I make my way to the kitchen. I don’t bother turning on the lights since I know this house like the back of my hand.

  I head straight for the fridge. I contacted my old friend Stewart who still lives here, and he gave me a name of a cleaning lady. I hired her to fill the fridge with specific foods and beer. She did a good job.

  I grab one of the Molson Canadians lined up on the side of the fridge and take the plastic bottle opener she left, as per my request, and pop the bottle open. I chug a long gulp of beer and look out the window to the beautiful pond that sits just beyond the fence of our backyard.

  That pond was where it all began. The ice skating, my dream of being a professional hockey player. With my beer in hand, I head over to the family room, figuring I’ll fall back onto the couch and take in the view from there while trying to clear my head of Sloane Carmichael.

  My frustration over Sloane confuses me. I shouldn’t care that her vagina wants some guy named Ryan. It was fucking weird anyway, hearing her speak with my sister about sex. I mean, is it a vagina that wants a guy? Or is it an overall attraction?

  I shake my head at the ridiculousness of my thoughts and fall back onto the couch when I hear a yelp and feel some movement from beneath me. The beer in my hand almost spills as I lose my balance, trying to get back to my feet. Did I just sit on Chance without noticing?

  There’s a large grey throw blanket on the couch which blends with the color of the fabric camouflaging the space. By the cussing and movement, I know exactly who’s wiggling under the blanket: a little spitfire brunette who’s hot as hell.

  I place my beer on the coffee table and reach for the blanket, flipping it off Sloane who begins to throw the pillows around her to the floor. It’s like she’s built herself a little cave on the couch.

  I squint and give a devious grin as I take in her small frame in a little pink tank top and short grey shorts with tiny red hearts on them.

  “Shorty.” I bite my lip, waiting, because she looks pissed, and a part of me wants to see her anger boil. I wonder if she’ll call me a name or just snap. I bite hard, trying to prevent a chuckle from crawling up my throat. I’m not successful as it reverberates through the room.

  She has earphones in her ears, and she’s holding her phone as she scrambles to get to her feet. She pulls one of the earphones out and narrows her eyes on me. “One of these days, you’re actually going to kill me, I mean squash me to death, you big, mean giant,” she scoffs, her green eyes narrowed to slits. Fuck, she’s serious.

  I have to hold my stomach, I’m laughing so hard. She’s freaking adorable.

  “This isn’t funny, Oliver,” she admonishes, checking her body.

  “Shit! I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I swear you blended with the couch. I didn’t even see your head. Seriously I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I wince.

  “I was under the blankets and pillows,” she chid
es. “I was cold; I covered my head too.”

  “Aw, Shorty, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say softly. “Come here. I can make it all better.” I reach out to take her arm and place a soft kiss on it, only she pulls it out of my grasp, like she’s come into contact with hot coals. My eyes unintentionally fall to her chest and notice those perky nipples of hers are standing to attention.

  I tilt my head to the side, taking her in, and her eyes follow my gaze. When she realizes what I’m glaring at, she jumps to cross her arms across her chest, “Perv,” she bites out.

  I chuckle. “That is one fine set of breasts, Sloane. No need to cover them.” I say with all honesty. “Besides I saw all of you last night.” My body heats. I can’t seem to control my body’s visceral response.

  “Why do I feel like this is déjà vu?” she asks.

  I shrug, even though I know the reason she thinks it’s déjà vu.

  She tilts her head to the side and looks as if she’s pondering something. I cock a brow and grin, waiting for an explanation.

  She heaves a sigh and begins, “The first night I met you in New York, you almost crushed me when you fell asleep on top of me on the couch. You were drunk, and it took a while for me to shove you off me. When I did, you said something about my girls.” She looks down to her breasts. I vaguely remember the night but I don’t want her to know I remember. It will send the message that she left a lasting impression, and I don’t want to lead her on.

  “I see my taste hasn’t changed. You still got a nice set of girls.” I tilt my chin to her breasts, figuring it’s better to joke about the situation. This really shouldn’t be a big deal. Only she turns crimson and takes a big gulp, and once again, her pureness tugs at something deep inside me. I want to make more than her cheeks red. I want to impale her with my dick and watch her writhe beneath me, flushed and sweating. I shake the fantasy out of my head. This girl needs commitment, not just a good fuck.