Selecting a navy blue shirt from a hanger in Ryker’s closet and a pair of black Nike sweats, I drape the clothes over my forearm and carry them into the bathroom to get dressed. That’s where I left the maternity bra I have to wear this late in the game. If I don’t, there will be milk stains all over my shirt. Guess it’s a good thing I have reusable breast pads to soak up the colostrum leakage.
Once that clumsy task is complete I brush my teeth, deodorize my pits, clean my glasses, gloss my lips, comb my wet hair and tie it up in a messy bun. Finished, I give myself a once over and shrug at the form reflecting back at me. My face is fuller than it was a month ago. I’m getting Violet Beauregarde fat, and I don’t like it one bit. The scar on my cheek is lighter, though. That’s a plus.
Fixing the loose strands of hair in my bun, I stop staring in the mirror and waddle into the bedroom to check on Walker. Sidling up to his bassinet I peek inside. He’s gone. What the frog shit? Did Dad come in here and steal him? Is that who drove Ryker home today? It has to be. Nobody else holds the little guy besides me or the girls.
Hand perched on hip; I breathe through a sneaky Braxton Hicks contraction, then pad toward the great room with bare feet that resemble bejeweled Lil’ Smokies sausages glued to an oddly shaped puff pastry… Mmmm that sounds yummy—Lil Smokies and puff pastry. Perhaps I’ll Pinterest this later to see what I find. Maybe pick up some BBQ sauce, too. Lil Smokies go perfectly with BBQ deliciousness, especially the sweet and tangy kind. Oh Boy, I’m not even feeling well, and I still wanna stuff my face. Lord, help me now.
Too busy observing said sausage toes that Scarlett painted with six different colors; I don’t notice Ryker holding Walker until I suddenly come upon them seated at the kitchen table of all places. On first glance, I stumble over my fat feet, catch myself on the back of another chair, and gasp at the odd, hopeful sight of the baby boy sleeping soundly on his massive chest.
“Wh-what ar-are you doing with him?” I whisper disjointedly, catching my breath.
Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Ryker tilts his gorgeous head toward the living room. Confused as all get out, I follow the silent movement. Then everything becomes crystal clear. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious than this. Oh. My. Bejesus. This is… too much… Too, too much.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I soak in the insane view. I can’t believe he…
“You got the results,” I mumble to myself, heart thundering in my chest.
Ryker reaches out to fold our fingers together, and I let him. Without warning, I tremble. My bottom lip wobbles so I suck it between my teeth. Tears form and begin teeming. I’m… I’m in shock. That has to be what this feeling is… This is happening. This is real. It’s freaking happening, and I can’t believe it.
“Sweetheart?” Ryker questions, as his perfect fingers squeeze mine.
There’s no way I can look at him—at Walker. I’ll have a total meltdown if I do. Don’t test a pregnant chick with happy moments, she’ll lose it. That’s exactly what I’m close to doing.
“You know,” I force out.
The backdoor closes, and multiple sets of heavy footsteps resonate through the mudroom.
Kade, Dad, and Bear enter the space. It seems to gain ten times the emotion in their presence. To see them here, witnessing this… it’s too much. The silly hormonal dam breaks and I outright start to sob. Kade saunters over to… wait is he relieving Ryker of Walker? No. That can’t be right. He isn’t peeling my sleeping little boy from his… father’s chest. Oh. Jeez. His father. A hiccup cry wrenches from my throat, and Ryker pulls me to him. Without asking, he cradles me in his lap and my cheek rests on a beefy pec, as he whispers loving tidbits that only I can hear.
“You were so right, babe,” he croons, massaging the side of my thigh. “I should’ve listened. Rosie brought the paperwork last night.”
“Did you buy out the baby store?” I sniffle, curling into him, inhaling his manly scent, his warmth, comfort—him. It’s perfection. The only place I wanna be for always.
I sense him shrug. “We’ve got one infant and another on the way. We know we’re havin’ a girl. So I had to get enough for the both of ‘em.”
“A giant, pink giraffe, really?” I giggle softly.
“It goes with the giant blue bear that Pops picked out.”
“They helped?” Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m a gimp right now, babe. Who else was gonna do all the heavy liftin’?”
Oh right. Duh. I wasn’t thinking.
“Sorry. I guess I couldn’t picture Bear in a baby store.”
Ryker chuckles all deep and sexy, giving me an extra sweet squeeze. “We had to drive two hours to get to that store. I called ahead, so they had some of the stuff ready for us to load when we got there. Why don’t you go see what we bought our kids? There’s even a little somethin’ in there for Rox and Scarlett, too.”
I’m a goner.
He had me hooked before. Stuck on his line and halfway reeled in.
Not anymore.
Consider me caught.
Buying stuff for our kids has melted me into a pile of madly in love goo. It’s bright pink and bursting with unicorn glitter! For all his assholish ways, Ryker has these rare moments of perfection that outshine the darkness that lurks around the edges of our complicated relationship.
Instead of moving, I nuzzle my nose to his pec, soaking up all that is him. It’s better here anyhow. The messy living room can wait.
“Tiger,” he warns. “You gotta quit that.”
“What?”
Something hard flexes against my hip that cuddles his crotch. “When you get all affectionate, I get like this.” The thickness does a pushup, letting himself be known.
Don’t worry, I know you’re there Ryker Jr, and you’re just as tempting as I remember.
“You’re always horny,” I mumble, lips pressed against the cotton of his tee, hiding my smile.
“I am. Am I?” he snickers, playing along with my silly banter.
“Uh huh.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours?” I suppress a school girl giggle.
“Mine, huh?”
Ryker’s palm glides up my arm to my shoulder, where he slides his fingers into the base of my hair. He gets a firm hold and tilts my head back, so I’m forced to look up at him. A zing of pleasure awakens my clit as he slowly lowers his lips to mine, fusing us as one, breathing together, touching—being. Agonizing seconds tick by as we merge there, going pliant… softer, softer, softer, until we’re slotted in the most delicious of ways. Our tongues pursue their mate in a game of hide and seek. A tiny touch at first, and then another. My heart wallops harder with each tentative taste. Curling a hand around his thick neck, I flick my tongue along his, memorizing the seductive flavor. Ryker moans, tunneling the vibrations into my mouth.
That’s it.
Getting high on his touch, I moan in response. Ryker answers my ravenous call with a hungrier one of his own. Yanking me higher, until I’m molded to him completely, he captures my mouth in a searing kiss that borderlines violent. Teeth clink. Lips bruise. Giving as good as I get, I battle for supremacy. On and on our mouths mate. Illicit moans and groans exchange. My juices soak through the cotton of my bottoms. Somehow, I end up straddling his lap, undulating against the erection in his pants. Yet, we don’t stop. His big palms grab my ass, kneading, helping me along—grinding, grinding, grinding, on his cock; hitting my clit with expert precision.
It’s not enough.
There’s too many clothes in the way.
Blindly tearing at the waist of his sweats with my fingertips, he helps me slide them down, so they rest at the tops of his knees, exposing his thick erection. Yes! On instinct, I fumble to my feet. Bent in half, mouth still molded to his in sloppy kisses, I shimmy my pants to the floor with his help. Before the sensible part of my brain can interfere, I reposition myself on his lap and impale my pussy on his pre-cum coated dick, groani
ng in pleasure through the aching stretch.
OhMyFuckingGod!
“Fuuck,” he growls, attacking my lips with the passion of a hundred orgasms, palm possessively gripping the nape of my neck.
Pushing off the chair rungs with the tips of my toes, I ride his member. It’s messy. Frenzied. It’s gloriously shameless. Clasping my hands around his neck, curled forward to combat my large belly wedged between us, we kiss, we fuck, we lose ourselves in ecstasy. The wet cacophony of bodies colliding is music to my ears. His manly scent invades my brain. Sweat beads on my brow. Air heaves from my lungs, thighs burn from exertion. But I don’t stop. I can’t! The urge to climax is imminent. I need this. I need him!
Heat builds, turning my blood to molten lava. My walls contract around his girth. Slamming my hips down one last time, spearing myself wholly, the world as I know it fragments into microscopic pieces of explosive nirvana. Throwing my head back, eyes pinched shut, I scream Ryker’s name, coming apart at the seams. Starved for more, my pussy spasms on and on, deepening the white-hot pleasure with each downward stroke. Ryker helps me along by rocking our pelvises together in perfect sync, hitting that special spot just right. Before the high can fizzle and I catch my breath, another all-consuming orgasm unexpectedly crests. Holding on for dear life, Ryker controls my hips with both hands, fucking me on his cock like I’m a life-size fleshlight.
Jesus Christ!
So good!
“That’s it. Come on, beautiful. Come all over me,” he rasps, unable to steady his own breath.
And I do. Again. On. Command.
Kisses forgotten, Ryker attacks my throat with small nips and love bites. “I’m gonna come in you,” he growls below my ear, pressing a tender peck there.
“Yes!” I cry out.
“That’s it.” He drags his lips to my jaw.
One final thrust and he stills, releasing a feral moan as hot spurts fill my channel. His thigh twitches beneath me, body tremoring through his release.
That was… unexpected… amazing!
Sagging forward, boneless, forehead resting on his shoulder, I force air into my lungs. A satisfied smile pulls at my lips. “That was…”
“Perfect,” he finishes for me.
“It was.” A pinch of guilt takes hold. “I thought you couldn’t have sex.”
“Don’t care.” His hands travel up and down my spine as if he can’t stop himself from touching me in some way.
“Are you hurt?” It sounds like I’m asking my sixty-year-old partner if he threw out his hip having sex. One of these years that could be the case.
“Nope. Might be a bit sore later. But it was worth it.”
Drawing back to judge if he’s telling the truth, he smiles boyishly, cheeks reddening. That’s not like him. Ryker doesn’t do shy.
Heart-stopping warmth washes through me at the rare sight. I brush my thumb across the bridge of his nose and cheek. Then lean in to ghost my lips over his before planting a gentle kiss there. It’s soft, tender, and oh-so-wonderful that it nearly steals my breath away. When we were together all those years ago, kissing him was emotional. It always touched the delicate spots inside of me that I kept hidden. This isn’t the same. It’s somehow more. As if we had crawled through an endless desert in search of a miracle and found one another on the other side.
“I love you,” I whisper there, testing the seam of his mouth with the sweep of my tongue.
“I love you so much more,” he returns equally sweet before touching his tongue to mine.
Someone clears their throat, bursting our perfect sex bubble.
Shit sticks! I forgot we weren’t alone. We had… all of our family here.
Hiding my face in Ryker’s neck, wanting to die from mortification, I blindly search for his hands and plant them on either of my butt cheeks to conceal them from prying eyes. As if they didn’t see everything already. As if my ass isn’t bigger than his already large hands. It is. I’ve got quite the rump. All of my jiggly bits that only Ryker is supposed to see are out on display. Not that Kade hasn’t seen them at least once, but that’s not the point. I wasn’t having sex then. The jiggly bits jiggle during sex. And I’ve put on a bit of weight, thanks to the two-ton baby residing in my womb. Oh crap, I screamed Ryker’s name, too, didn’t I? Yep, someone kill me now. There’s no way I can ever live this down. Who has sex with their crippled whatever he is when their father, best friend, and Bear are in the same damn room? Ugh! This can’t be reality. I didn’t do that. My slutty, Ryker sniffing pussy didn’t just force me into that, did it?
Squeezing my lady parts I can indeed feel the softening cock take leave, and a cum mess beginning. Great! This is super-de-duper, naked from the waist down, and dribbling man juice. Guys are so lucky. They don’t have to deal with this after they come. A quick wipe up and they’re good to go. While us ladies are squeezing fresh baby batter from our hot boxes for the next three hours. Or is that just me? It damn well better not be. If you say so, you’re lying. The inner thigh cum slide is a real thing.
Catching on to what I’m doing, Ryker chuckles. “It’s okay, babe. They left way before you got naked.”
“Someone’s in here now,” I whisper hiss below his ear.
A throatier, way sexier chuckle follows. Damn him and his hotness. He’s a Walmart sized buffet of finger-lickin' beefcake, I tell ya. It’s unfair to womankind.
“It’s Kade, with our son. He’s not starin’ at your ass.”
“Our son?” Is he… no… that… what?
“He’s my kid second. You claimed him first. So he’s your son, too. If you want him to be.”
I… I have a son.
Me.
Katrina Remington.
Has a son.
I dunno if it’s the endorphin high, pregnancy hormones, or what, but those simple life-changing words flip a switch and I burst into tears. Clinging to Ryker I blubber, so happy, yet manically overwhelmed in the crook of his neck. To calm me, he whispers a round of reassuring words that mean nothing and everything all at once. He soothes me further with the gentle glide of his palms up and down either side of my back.
“Shhh, it’s okay, babe. Don’t cry. You’re killin’ me with your tears,” he mutters, peppering kisses along my shoulder.
“Watermelon Tits,” my bestie calls, his voice laced with concern. “Don’t cry. We mere menfolk don’t deal well with our favorite female crying.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
Get it together, Kat. You’re making them uncomfortable.
Sucking back a bout of hormonal tears, I force myself to quit acting like a giant baby. There’s no reason to act this way. So I have a son now. That doesn’t need to reduce me to waterworks. I can get my shit together. No, I need to get my shit together. I’m crying, half naked in my man’s lap for Christ sake. My man. Yeah. That’s what he is. I think we established he’s definitely that. It just sounds strange to me. My man. My son. My cabin. My new life. The words taste sweet on my tongue—pleasant.
“Is Kade lookin’ over here?” I test to be safe.
“Nope. He’s starin’ at the ceiling.”
Good.
I don’t move yet. “Then I should probably get cleaned up.”
“We both should.”
True.
“I’m gonna make a mad dash to the bathroom and get washed up. You can handle yourself, right?”
Please say yes. This is embarrassing enough. Having to clean his cock is an ultimate low when I’m in the same room as Dickcheese. I’ll never live it down.
Ryker chuckles. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got two workin’ hands, I can wipe my dick.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’ve got a waterfall of cum to combat. You have less mess to worry about.”
“Waterfall of cum?” I sense a smile in his voice. Bet it’s a sexy one.
I nip his neck. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about the inner thigh cum slide that we ladies have to deal with when you fellas decide to bust a nut in our vags.”
&nbs
p; One millisecond all is chill. The next I’ve got Ryker rolling in boisterous laughter for no good reason, alongside my best friend who apparently caught everything I said. He has hearing aids in or something. I’m not speaking that loud. This isn’t funny. I’m dead serious. The cum slide is not a joke.
Semi-insulted by their outburst, I play slap Ryker’s good pec and climb off his lap. He’s too busy laughing to notice. As predicted, once vertical, the luge of baby gravy starts its descent. It’s icky, wet and gross, so I have to force myself not to run from the room as intended or cup my vagina to keep the mess contained. For show, I sway my hips and stroll with my head held high from the room; bare, jiggly ass and all.
Eat that, you cackling hyenas.
“Babe!” Ryker calls to my retreating form as he somewhat controls his laughter. It’s futile. Because as soon as I don’t respond, Sir Asshole and Sir Dickcheese bust a louder gut.
Fuckheads.
Forgoing the girls’ bathroom, I enter our bedroom. Once I know that nobody can see me, I shake out my shoulders and waddle to our washroom; my cheeks burning as hot as coals. Those dipsticks sure know how to humiliate a chick. Let’s see if I share pie with either of them ever again. I’m stingy enough with pie. Sharing isn’t always caring in my book. They can eat dirt from now on. Bet it’ll taste good with some whipped topping, ‘cause that’s all they’re getting.
Hopelessly Devoted: (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #3) Page 14