Down on Me (Club 24 #7)

by Kimberly Knight

  More tears were streaming down my face as my vows were next.

  “Brandon, I choose you. I’ve always chosen you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, it’s been you. I want to stand by your side and sleep in your arms. To be the joy to your heart and food for your soul. To learn with you and grow with you, even as the times and life changes us both. I promise to laugh with you in good times and struggle alongside you in bad times. I want to have many more adventures with you—not the life threatening ones—and grow old with you. I want to have a family with you and I promise to comfort you when the Cowboys lose.”

  I hit pause on the remote because I could barely see the screen through the tears streaming down my face. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten the words that we spoke that day, but it was as if I needed the reminder.

  “What are you doing?” I jumped at Brandon’s voice.

  I looked over at the stairs as he walked toward me, shirtless. I wiped my tears and sniffed.

  “You’re watching our wedding?”

  “I—”

  “And crying? Babe …” He sat on the couch next to me then pulled me so I was sitting in his lap. “It’s five o’clock in the morning and you’re down here reliving our wedding and crying? What’s going on? Please tell me so I can help you.”

  I stared at him and sniffed again, still not wanting to be judged by him even though I knew he would comfort me.

  “Fuck me,” I blurted.

  He jerked his head back. “What?”

  “Fuck me!” I said again and straddled him.

  “Spencer, you’ve been crying. You can’t be serious.”

  “I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I was crying because you love me.”

  He stilled me so I’d looked into his eyes, grabbing my face in his hands. “Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  “I know. Fuck me,” I repeated. I needed to feel—to feel loved, cherished, treasured, beautiful. “Fuck me like you used to.”

  He stared at me for a beat and I saw him swallow. “Stand up.”

  I didn’t hesitate. He reached for the hem of my T-shirt and then tossed it on the floor leaving us both in pajama bottoms. The look in his eyes had changed from concern to pure need. It had been too long since we were us. Since when I wasn’t fragile or broken or tired or felt fat.

  I was horny for most my pregnancy until the last few months and then I felt as though Kyle would never come out and I didn’t want Brandon touching me because I was irritable all the time. Now, for him to have that look on his face that I hadn’t seen for months made my insides flip and I reached for his pants, ready and aching for him. My hand dipped into the elastic of his waistband and felt the hard ridge of his cock. He hissed on contact and his hands grabbed my face, bringing his mouth to mine.

  His kiss was hungry, ravenous, greedy as our tongues worked together with the rhythm of my hand on his shaft. My breasts started to ache as it was almost time to either feed Kyle or use the pump, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I needed my husband. The man who had always brought me to my knees with one look.

  My hand pumped him and then I stopped, needing the barrier of his pants to fall away. When I removed my hand, Brandon stepped back and reached for his pants to help me.

  “Take your pants off,” he ordered.

  I did. I so did. I was ready. My pussy was wet and waiting for him to fill it. After I quickly discarded my pants and panties, I looked to the couch and Brandon was lying with his back on the cushions, his head on the armrest.

  “I want you over my face.”

  My eyes widened for a second and then I moved. My heart was beating fast and I knew the moment he touched me, I would feel what I’d been waiting for. I placed one leg on the armrest next to his head, bent so he could reach me, and my other leg on the floor for balance.

  “You better hold on to something because once I start, I’m not stopping until you come.”

  I looked around. There wasn’t anything to hold onto. I was on the edge of the couch with the wall to my right and a table with a lamp to my front. The arm of the sofa was big and round and there was no way for me to hang onto it. Fuck it. “Okay,” I breathed and braced myself with my right hand against the wall.

  His hands wrapped around my thighs and the moment his tongue took its first lick, my body jerked.

  “Oh, God,” I hissed.

  I was on fire. Hot and wet, my body aching as he sucked and dipped his tongue in and out and around my clit. Brandon reached up and spread me open more with his fingers and I tilted my head back as the tip of his tongue stroked my clit and he inserted two fingers. His other hand disappeared from my leg and after a few moments I looked over my shoulder to see his hand sliding up and down over his cock. My mouth watered as it longed to be his hand giving him the pleasure he sought. Instead, I reached up and started to massage my breast, still holding onto the wall with my other hand.

  He pumped two fingers inside me fast as his tongue worked my clit bringing me closer and closer to the point of my body exploding with pleasure. Before I realized it, my orgasm jolted me, causing me jerk. I braced myself with my hand on the wall and Brandon grabbed my thigh to keep me from falling as wave after wave hit me.

  As I sighed, Brandon moved and turned me. “We’re not done.”

  I knew we weren’t.

  He looked down at my chest. “You’re leaking.”

  I looked down, too. I hadn’t realized milk was coming from my breasts. Before I could say anything, he bent and started sucking on my breast. I hissed at the relief and the sight of him as he looked up at me.

  He moved to the other breast and sucked some more. Then he spoke, “It tastes like sweet milk.”

  I grinned. “Did you expect it to taste bad?”

  “I wasn’t sure,” he said around my nipple. He sucked a little more on each and then asked, “Better?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now, on your knees and bend over the armrest.”

  I hurried and leaned against the couch, my ass in the air, ready and waiting. Brandon positioned himself behind me, spread my legs a little and then eased in. My body jerked from being sensitive after my orgasm and burned from not having sex for awhile, but once he was all the way in and he started moving—I lost the inhibition to think or speak.

  “Is this what you wanted?” he inquired, his hands on my hips as he thrust inside me.

  I nodded.

  “I’ve missed this,” he admitted. “Not because we haven’t fucked in a while, but I’ve missed us.” He leaned down and ran kisses along my spine then picked up his pace again.

  “I know what you mean,” I finally said.

  His thrusts slowed as his hands roamed down my sides and he grabbed each butt cheek. I met his slow movements, my body moving like a wave as it moved back and forth to go up and down his cock in slow rhythmic movements.

  My hips started to swirl, needing any friction it could get. Brandon picked up his pace again, his hands on my hips. I felt his balls slapping against my pussy, over and over causing more friction, more build up, more pleasure.

  And then he stopped and thrust hard, hitting the spot that made me moan in ecstasy. He stopped again and pushed deep inside me with one push. My body was on fire. He was hitting the spot head on to send me over the edge.

  He did it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  My head tilted back as it became light headed, not able to stay in control. A light sweat coated my body and his pace quickened as he drove into me and reached around for my clit. The moment his fingers touched me, my thighs quivered and my body tingled, my orgasm rocketing through me.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, his cum going deep inside me, filling me. “I really did miss that.” He kissed between my shoulder blades and eased out of me, cum dripping down the back of my thigh. “Aw shit,” he grumbled. “You can’t get pregnant for a certain amount of time after having a baby, can you?”

  *

  I fe
lt almost like my old self. I wasn’t sure if all along the key was Brandon, but having him tell me he had always loved me and then showing me how much, made me want to fight this demon that I had inside me. We had a son who needed me and Brandon needed me, too.

  “Want to go for a walk?” I asked Kyle after changing his diaper.

  Brandon had left for work and I had fed and bathed Kyle. I wanted to get out of the house, get some vitamin D. I thought about calling Ryan, but I just wanted to walk around the block and get fresh air and exercise. I missed going to the gym with Brandon, and walking our son would be good for me.

  I bundled Kyle up in his little jacket because it was slightly chilly outside and I put on grey yoga pants, an orange tank top and threw on a black and orange San Francisco Giants hoodie.

  “We should do this every day,” I said, strapping Kyle into his stroller. Niner barked behind me. “Don’t worry, you’re going too.” He wagged his tail and I grabbed his leash.

  It was going to be tricky walking and dog and pushing a stroller down a sidewalk, but somehow I was going to have to manage.

  I opened the front door and pushed the stroller out, Niner on my heels. “Stay,” I ordered as I punched in the away code and locked the door.

  This was either going to be really successful or a disaster. I wrapped the end of the leash in my hand and began pushing the stroller down my driveway. Niner stopped a few times to smell and pee, but we kept walking and eventually found our groove. We turned right, and right, and right again until I noticed him.

  My heart rate kicked up and, at first, my feet stopped as panic seeped in. I had no idea who he was, but he was watching me from across the street as he smoked his cigarette, leaning on the wooden fence. I kept my head down as I walked a few feet away. My palms were sweaty and I reached for my phone to call Brandon only to realize I’d left it at home. How could I have left my phone—my lifeline—at home?

  As I made my final right turn onto my street, I looked back and he was still staring at me. Could this be the guy Michael hired to kidnap me and Kyle? Was it going to happen again? Did I step out of my house only to give them the opportunity to get us My pace quickened and then I was jogging as I neared my house. Niner must have thought we were playing a game because when we got to the doorstep, he jumped, almost knocking me and Kyle over.

  “Not now,” I hissed, my hands shaking as I fiddled with my keys, trying to find the one that opened the door. I still held his leash because I feared he’d run if I were to let go.

  “Fuck,” I groaned as I found every key but the one I wanted. I looked over my shoulder and didn’t see anyone but still hurried, not wanting to take any chances. Finally, I found the house key and with shaky hands, I slipped it into the door and turned the handle. We all moved in as the alarm beeped, waiting for me to enter the code. I looked the door behind us, enabled the alarm, unleashed Niner, and unbuckled Kyle.

  My fears were turning into reality. It wasn’t just me they were after, but Kyle. I had to get to the safe room and quick. I didn’t care if we had state of the art security. I needed to be safe, and from there I could call Brandon and tell him what was going on because I still had no idea where my fucking cell phone was.

  I ran up the stairs with Kyle in my arms, Niner on my heels and then straight into the safe room. After punching in the code to lock us in, I called Brandon to tell him that his suspicions were correct.

  Chapter Ten

  Brandon

  The six agonizing weeks were over. Our sex hiatus was finished.

  When I came downstairs and saw her crying while watching our wedding video, I was worried. Her depression scared me because I didn’t know how deep it went. I knew she was facing something that went farther than loneliness and maybe she’d need to get help. I made a mental note to look into it, but when I say I left her satisfied before I left for work, I mean I left her satisfied before I left for work.

  I can still hear the way she asked me to fuck her. At first, I wasn’t going to because I thought it was a cry for help, but then I looked into her eyes and she asked me to fuck her like we used to fuck and I couldn’t help it.

  I was a man.

  I was a savage.

  I was feral.

  I was unrestrained.

  And I ached to be buried deep inside of her. Pounding into her over and over as she moaned, gasped and squeezed my dick so tight that when I eventually came, I saw double.

  The entire drive to work, I was thinking of what happened that morning and then what I was going to do to Spencer that night. I would be buried deep in her as she rode me with her back to me again, this time as I lay on my back, her straddled over me and me guiding her with her ass in perfect view.

  I was half tempted to turn around and repeat what we’d done that morning because I’d gotten a taste of it again. The memory was killing me. But I had to go to Club 24 because I knew Becca would be there and I needed to speak with her about Spencer. Too many things were bothering me about the way she was acting. It wasn’t only the crying. I think Spencer thought I hadn’t noticed how distant she’d been or how angry she could become at the snap of her fingers. And more than once she’d told me that she and Kyle weren’t bonding. I’d chalked it up to him being a newborn.

  Did she mean that when she looked at him, she didn’t feel the swell in her heart that I felt? Did she mean that bringing him into this world brought fear and worry instead of joy and happiness? Did she mean she didn’t love him?

  I’d never thought my wife could possibly have these feelings for our son. She wanted him just as much as I did. We planned for him. And for her to cry every day—have this pain so deep within her—I knew something was wrong.

  When I tried to ask Spencer about it, she wouldn’t tell me. She would tell me that Kyle loved me more, but doesn’t every parent feel like that at one point? You hear the terms “Daddy’s girl” or “Mama’s boy.” Maybe she thought Kyle felt a stronger connection with me because I was a guy?

  I needed my best friend. She’d know what to do.

  *

  When I got to Club 24, Becca wasn’t there yet. She was working at BKJB and came to the gym to work out during her lunch breaks. Since she hadn’t arrived, I started to do some searches on the computer and came across the term postpartum depression. Lightbulbs went off in my head when I read a definition for the Mayo Clinic’s website:

  “The birth of a baby can trigger a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect—depression.

  Many new moms experience the “postpartum baby blues” after childbirth, which commonly include mood swings, crying spells, anxiety and difficulty sleeping. Baby blues typically begin within the first two to three days after delivery, and may last for up to two weeks.

  But some new moms experience a more severe, long-lasting form of depression known as postpartum depression. Rarely, an extreme mood disorder called postpartum psychosis also may develop after childbirth.

  Postpartum depression isn’t a character flaw or a weakness. Sometimes it’s simply a complication of giving birth.”

  The symptoms scared me the most.

  Postpartum depression may be mistaken for baby blues at first—but the signs and symptoms are more intense and last longer, eventually interfering with your ability to care for your baby and handle other daily tasks. Symptoms usually develop within the first few weeks after giving birth, but may begin later—up to six months after birth.

  Postpartum depression symptoms may include:

  • Depressed mood or severe mood swings

  • Excessive crying

  • Difficulty bonding with your baby

  • Withdrawing from family and friends

  • Loss of appetite or eating much more than usual

  • Inability to sleep (insomnia) or sleeping too much

  • Overwhelming fatigue or loss of energy

  • Reduced interest and pleasure in activities yo
u used to enjoy

  • Intense irritability and anger

  • Fear that you’re not a good mother

  • Feelings of worthlessness, shame, guilt or inadequacy

  • Diminished ability to think clearly, concentrate or make decisions

  • Severe anxiety and panic attacks

  • Thoughts of harming yourself or your baby

  • Recurrent thoughts of death or suicide

  Untreated, postpartum depression may last for many months or longer.

  It had been two and a half months since Kyle was born. According to this, my wife had been hurting for a long time and I had no clue. I needed to figure out what to do about it—on top of everything else—and fast.

  *

  “I need you,” I hollered at Becca as I saw her walk past my office.

  “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for fourteen years. Don’t tell J.” She was smiling ear to ear as she walked into my office, dressed in her workout clothes.

  “Not like that, you sex fiend. Jesus! Close the door. Seriously, it’s about Spencer—my wife.”

  “Always crushing my dreams,” she joked, closing the door behind her. At least I thought she was joking.

  “Tell me what you know about postpartum depression,” I blurted, no longer in the mood to banter with her like we’d normally do.

  She stared at me. “Spencer has it?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  “Has she been diagnosed?”

  “No. Do I need to take her to a doctor?”

  She leaned forward and placed her elbows on my desk. “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know if she has it,” I admitted.

  “What’s been happening?”

  I told Becca what I knew and how Spencer had been acting.

  “Come to think if it,” she leaned back in the chair again and looked out the window. “Poker night she was acting weird.”