by Kira Blakely
“You’re allowed two cups of coffee a day,” Pammy said. “I looked it up while you were in the bathroom, just to be safe.”
It made my heart expand, the fact that she was here and helping and would stay. I hadn’t even called my parents yet, but they’d probably react the same. Though, they might ask me to move back in with them, and I couldn’t do that.
They couldn’t afford it, and I wouldn’t place the extra stress on them—it’d only stress me out even more and that wouldn’t be good for the baby.
I stirred my tea with the silver spoon Pammy had left in the cup, then clinked it on the edge and set it aside. I took a sip and relished the flavor. “Green tea,” I said.
“That’s right. It’s great for you. Full of antioxidants, and it’s not as loaded with caffeine as you think.” Pammy scooched into the seat opposite mine, her hair now loose and flaming red as usual, and her cheeks flushed. “Listen, even if he doesn’t answer you, it’s still fine. You’ll have me. If he’s that much of a jackass…” She trailed off.
I bowed my head and focused on the tea instead of her.
I want him to be involved. I want to be with him.
But that would never happen. How could he possibly want to be with me or even see me after what I’d done? He wouldn’t trust me again after this.
“You want to see him again, don’t you?” Pammy asked.
I didn’t want to answer. Instead, I drank more of my tea and scanned the kitchen. It was so very “Pammy,” with potted plants on the window sill, an old fridge covered in magnets, and a top drawer in the end cupboard that brimmed with takeout menus.
Pammy didn’t like cooking as much as I did. That was likely part of the reason she loved having me around—I’d whip up a meal if she had a specific desire for anything.
“Are you hungry?” Pammy asked. “We could go to The Springs.”
“No, thank you,” I replied. That was the last place I’d ever visit. This town… ugh, as much as I loved Pammy and my time at Daisy Oaks, it wasn’t for me anymore. Perhaps, I’d leave. Start somewhere fresh in another small town.
Somewhere with nice families rather than moms who could’ve geared up for battle without being out of place.
“Pancakes?” The one thing Pammy could make.
“No, I’m good. I’m not really hungry, right now. Maybe a little later.”
A car door slammed outside, too close to be in the neighbor’s driveway, and my insides twisted into an origami swan. It was him.
I could almost sense it.
The pressure altered in the kitchen. A cold shiver passed down the back of my neck, my spine, and to my tailbone.
“What?” Pammy asked.
“He’s here.” I lurched out of my chair and hurried out of the open doorway that led into the entrance hall. I walked down it, my bare feet padding on the carpet.
The knock came just as I reached the door. I unlocked it and turned the knob, my palm slick with sweat.
And there he was.
Houston Pope, dark hair parted to one side, silver-gray eyes lit from the inside outward. His lips were ever so slightly thinned, and his gaze chased down my front and back up again to meet mine.
“Hey—lo,” I said, and it wasn’t even on purpose. I blushed. “Hi. You got my message?”
“Yes,” he replied, in that melt-my-heart voice. So rich and perfect. Almost edible.
Now that he was here, I couldn’t fathom ever being OK with him leaving. With him not being around to see our baby.
He’d stolen my breath countless times over the course of the past few months. Even when he’d been in Alaska and out of my reach, I’d thought only of him. Touched myself thinking about him. And then he’d come back and everything had fallen apart.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” I said and swallowed hard. “That sounds stupid, but it’s true. I’m not a liar. I was afraid and stupid. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. I’m sorry you had to find out that way.”
He didn’t reply, just tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Behind him, a black Audi waited, sleek and cool, its slanted eyes watching us.
“You’ve come all this way,” I said. “Do you want to come inside? Pammy made some tea. I’m sure we can brew another pot or—”
“No,” he said.
“OK.”
Another silence, broken by the bark of a dog down the street and the pleasant hum of instincts in the growing heat of the day. I admired the man, hated myself for it, but I did it still.
He wore another of those plain T-shirts, this one black, and, as usual, it tugged at his biceps, wrinkling upward to allow for the muscle beneath it. He was hot, on fire, delicious, but that wasn’t what made Houston attractive.
It was him. The parts inside. The ones I’d gotten to uncover over the short time we’d been together.
“You’re going to come with me,” he said.
“I am?” I tried for a weak laugh, but it was flat in my ears.
“Yes. Now. Come with me.”
I sucked in a breath, looked back over my shoulder at the kitchen doorway, where Pammy now stood. She flicked her fingers at me and mouthed, “Go!”
“I’m not leaving without you,” he replied, then turned and walked back to his Audi. He opened the passenger side door and stood there, waiting.
My move.
I slipped on my pumps which I’d left beside the entrance, then stepped out of the house and shut the door behind me, then walked over to him. He didn’t kiss me, not a hug or a touch, simply nodded to the Audi.
Every bit of me was drawn to him. Every cell and nerve-ending, but I wouldn’t push myself on him, unwanted.
“Get in,” he said.
I did, and the scent of leather and pine from an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror encapsulated me.
He shut the door for me then walked around and got in on his side. Silence again, this time full of something else. Something unspoken.
I opened my mouth to ask, but he started the engine and reversed out of the drive before I could get it out.
Summit Springs whipped by, the people, houses, stores. The town square, wrought-iron benches and lamps, and brick-faces. They were replaced by a field of green, and then trees, another field dotted with bushes.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Twenty minutes later, without a word shared between us, he switched on his indicator and entered a side road, covered in gravel. We roared up the path toward a gate. On the other side, a plain field waited, dotted with little flowers and a couple trees at the far end. It was fenced off, and the gate seemed well-maintained, but Houston stopped the car just short of it.
The lack of noise, apart from a few ticks of the engine cooling, drove me to the brink.
I turned in my seat, unclipped the belt, and glared at him. “What is this?” I asked. “Are you finally going Dexter on me?”
“No,” he said and pointed at the field, over the dash. “This place borders the park. The hot spring is a mile or two that way.” He swung his index finger a little to the left.
“OK?”
“This is my property,” he replied. “My mother gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday in a vain attempt to make me stay near the town.”
“Oh.”
“I want to build you a house here.” He faced me at last, emotion welling from him, fountains of it, and not the negative kind. He glowed for me. He didn’t smile, but joy leaked from his friggin’ pores, from his eyes. “A house for you and the baby.”
“W-what?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t live in it with you, at first. I’ll stay with my mother until you’re settled and the time is right. We’ll take things slow. We’ll fucking date or whatever. Not sure how that’s done because I haven’t done it before, really. And if that works out, I’ll move in with you.”
I burst into tears. “Are you serious? Are you actually serious right now?”<
br />
“One hundred fucking percent. A thousand percent. I’m going to be here for you every step of the way. I’m going to stand by you and support you and do the same for our child,” he said. “Charlie, I know this was an accident, but it was meant to be.”
Houston took my hand and kissed it, once, twice, then pressed my palm to his rough cheek. “You made me feel something again. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared. The only way I could feel was by helping others do it. By helping women have their babies, and each time it happened it was like a shot straight to my heart. It woke me up inside. Being with you is like that all the time.”
“You’re not going to leave,” I squeaked. He was a blur, blocked by the tears, but I made out a smile.
“I’ll never leave. Never.” He was so firm about it. So sure. “You’re not going to have to do this on your own. You’ll have me. And when the baby’s born, you’ll have all the help you need.”
I could hardly breathe. I sniffled, and he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.
“I lied,” I said. “I hid the truth.”
“I don’t care. I know what it’s like to hide things, even if it’s just from myself. I understand. You were so brave, Charlie, handling this all on your own.” He cupped my chin in his warm, massive hands and drew me toward him. “Tell me you want this, too.”
“I don’t want it,” I said. “I need it. I need you.”
He kissed me then, parted my lips and tasted me, ran his fingers down my neck, felt my collar bones and my shoulders, almost as if he couldn’t believe I was here. That I was his.
And I was the same—I grasped the front of his shirt and held on, tugged on it. I loved him. I still hadn’t told him that, but it was true. It’d happened too fast, and his idea to live apart at first was a good one.
But right now, I needed him. Every part of him.
I scrambled closer and hit my knee on the stick. “Ouch,” I said, against his lips.
Houston laughed. “Wait,” he said. “Not like this.” He drew back from me but still held both my hands. “Charlie, I want us to take it slower. Fucking you has to be my favorite thing to do in the world, but we need to get to know each other properly. For us and for the baby. I won’t have him grow up in a broken home.”
I smiled wide, and a little giggle escaped me.
“What?”
“You said ‘him.’ You think it’s a boy.” I scraped my nails down the back of his arm, just a tickle, parting the dark hairs there. “I do, too. I don’t know if it is yet, but I’ve got this feeling that it’s a boy.”
“We both do,” he said, then kissed me again.
We both did.
We.
Wasn’t that the sweetest word in the world?
Epilogue
Houston
One year and eight months later…
“OK,” Charlie said and shut the bedroom door behind her. “OK, the cake has officially arrived, the presents are all laid out, and your mother is looking after Jake until it’s time for the party.”
I grinned at her, the most beautiful woman I’d ever fucking met, and tilted my head to one side. “Mom’s here?”
“Well, she was. She fetched Jakey and took him with her to give us time to prepare for the party.” Charlie tucked her hair behind her ear, her bright eyes sparkling like two sapphires on a bed of silk. She’d chosen a pair of heeled boots and a warm sweater that clung to her curves, fuller after she’d given birth to Jake. “My mom and dad will be here in an hour. And Pammy probably like fifteen minutes earlier. Clarissa will bring Jake back just after they arrive, so we have maybe an hour to prepare the finishing touches.” She was animated, pacing back and forth in front of the dresser I’d had custom made for this room.
Our bedroom.
It’d taken Charlie and I about three dates to realize that this was the real deal. We were meant to be together. While this house was built, I’d stayed with her or she’d stayed with me at my mom’s place.
We’d alternated, and I hadn’t missed a damn thing.
I’d been there for Jake’s first kick, for the mood swings, the rib-pains, the cravings for chocolate and noodles, not necessarily at different times. I’d fetched her ice cream whenever she wanted it, and we’d laughed, talked, gotten to know each other.
She hadn’t worked. I’d found a job at the hospital in the town over—miracles did fucking happen—and we’d pretty much kept to ourselves and away from all the rich fucks.
But news had filtered through to us during the pregnancy: Daisy Oaks Kindergarten had a new principal. Henrietta had been fired and left the town in abject shame, and Greg had followed her.
None of it could dampen or even affect our spirits.
And yeah, I’d delivered my own baby. I’d fucking insisted on it, and the moment it’d happened, and I’d held my mewling son in my arms, my heart had shattered into a million pieces and reformed, shaped only for him and for her.
My boy and my woman.
Three months ago, we’d moved into our house. With our bedroom and the four-poster bed she’d chosen with its duck-egg’s blue sheets and comfy pillows.
“I can’t believe it’s already his first birthday,” she whispered and dabbed the undersides of her eyes. “An entire year old.” She walked to the window and looked out on the forest that fringed the edge of our fence. “A year.”
And a year and nine months since we’d met.
I walked up behind her and placed my arms on her shoulders. I kissed her cheek. “I love you.”
She cooed and leaned into me, grazing her ass, squeezed into those tight blue jeans, against my crotch.
My dick twitched and hardened, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. “An hour, eh?”
Charlie turned her head and eyed me, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. “Yeah?”
“I think that’s more than enough time.” I drew her back from the window and walked her toward the bed. “More than enough time to taste you and please you, gorgeous.”
“We shouldn’t, though. What if we’re busy when Pammy gets here?”
“She’ll have to wait until we’re done,” I said and stripped off her sweater. Her breasts were fuller, too, not as perky, but just as perfect, and I ripped the front of her bra down and took one in my hand, massaged it gently, in slow circles.
“Oh god,” she whispered. “Oh, Houston, that’s good.”
I lifted her by the ass then tipped her backward onto the bed. She bounced and giggled, kicked out her legs. I grabbed her by the ankles. “Unbutton your jeans,” I said.
Charlie did as she was told. My good girl.
I tore them down and relished the sight of her cotton panties. Fuck, between looking after our son and moving in, we’d had hardly any time to enjoy each other. This would be heaven on earth.
I undid my jeans and took out my dick, smiled at the unbridled fucking desire on Charlie’s face. “You want it?”
“Yes, please.”
“How bad?”
“More than anything. Please, Houston.”
I walked to the dresser for a condom, but she blocked me with her leg. “No,” she said. “I want more of your babies.”
“What?”
“I want more of your babies,” she replied, her tone a little lower now, and a blush coloring the soft base of her throat, spreading upward. “I want you to cum inside me, properly.”
“We’ve never done that before.” It was a warning.
“I want it, Houston. Don’t you?”
What a fucking question.
I stepped back from the end table and placed myself between her milky white thighs. I parted them, stared at the wet patch spreading on her panties. Christ, she was so wet for me. So ready.
I tore them aside and revealed the sweet, pink pussy waiting for me, glistening, lips swollen. I parted them with my finger and dipped inside her quivering hole, removed it and pressed it between my lips, sucked her flavor.
“Jesus, I can’t get enough of y
ou,” I said.
“Inside,” she whispered. “Please, please, come inside me. Come inside me.” She writhed and gripped her breasts, above the underwire of her bra, threw her other arm back and scratched the sheets, pulled them toward her head.
“You want me to come inside you.” I placed the tip of my cock, so hungry for her that it dripped pre-cum, which mingled with her juices, at her entrance.
“Yes, come inside me. Fill me up, baby.”
How was I supposed to resist that?
I tugged her panties to one side as far as they could go and entered her, bit by bit, nice and fucking slow, to draw this out as much as possible.
The truth was, if I pumped away, I’d come almost instantly.
Her pussy grabbed my dick, practically sucked it in, and held on. I sucked my thumb, then placed it on her moist, cute button, then circled just as slowly.
Charlie moaned and arched her back, rotating her hips, massaging her own breasts, her eyes shut, mouth open. She was captured in pleasure. Trapped by what my dick could do for her.
This was how it’d always been and how it’d always be.
My dick filling her so completely that she lost conscious thought. I struggled to retain my sanity, to cling to the orgasm already threatening at the base of my balls. It tickled and spread.
“Come,” I commanded. “If you don’t, I’m going to.”
“I want you to come, too,” she wailed and clenched tight around me. “And I want it hard. Fuck me hard, baby. Please.”
I held onto her hip with one hand, kept my favorite cotton panties at bay with the other, and pounded into her, at last.
Her fingers found her clit and she stole some of the fluid from my dick and smoothed it over that little pearl, circling it desperately, then tapping, then circling again. She spasmed and bucked her hips.
So warm and wet, dripping for me, devouring me as I’d devoured her time and time again.
I pounded into her as hard as I could. Couldn’t hold on a second longer. The tingle spread through my abdomen and my balls. “I’m going to come,” I said. “Fuck.”
“Me, too,” Charlie whimpered, and her cunt closed around me, hard, squeezed so tight my fucking eyes near popped out.