Mickey's Baby

by Annie J. Rose

  I buckled her in safely and gave her a tiny, gentle push. She squealed riotously. Every time I swung her, she squealed and giggled and was generally a heart-melting delight. It was like a knife to the chest, loving her so much and seeing her grow and change so damn fast. And wanting a family of my own felt like a twist of that knife on a wound that wouldn’t close. It had been Karin that I wanted all this with. Our own hyper-protective fencing and sandbox or swing set that had to pass the rigors of safety testing on two continents to be anywhere near good enough for our wild and reckless child. A kid with Karin’s stubborn chin and my love for the ocean, her mother’s artistic eye. That fucking dream.

  “You look awful grim for a man pushing a happy baby on a swing,” Brandi said, coming outside with lemonade for me and a bottle of watered-down juice for Lilly, “watch out, kiddo, it’s pear, not apple.”

  “Why can’t she have apple juice? It’s her favorite,” I protested, sticking up for my baby niece.

  “Because she didn’t poop yesterday, Uncle Mick, and the juices from p-fruits make you poop. Little bit of mom wisdom for you there,” she quipped. I frowned at her. “So, why are you looking grumpy? Do you need pear juice too?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said with typical Brandi directness.

  “I’m just bonding with my niece, who doesn’t want that pear juice. She isn’t drinking it.”

  “She will. She’s just stubborn like her daddy. She’ll drink it in a minute. She’s testing me to see if I’ll replace it with apple juice. I won’t. Because it’s for her own good. Just like getting to the bottom of what’s going on with you is for your own good.”

  “I think I’d rather drink the pear juice,” I muttered.

  “Not an option. Is this about Elise’s friend, Karin? I thought she moved here and everything was going to be great.”

  “Yes, it’s about Karin. No it’s not great,” I said.

  “Right. So what are you going to do about it?” she said brightly.

  “There’s nothing I can do. I’m not going to beg her to be with me. What more could I have done?”

  “I have a baby, Mick. I’m kind of busy most of the time, and I guess I’m out of the loop on this one. Last I heard from Connor, you got drunk and she had to drive you home. Did you puke in her car?”

  “I don’t think so. She just—right after that, she bailed on me. She said she just wants to be friends. So I tried to argue, and she shut me down. I don’t want to be just her friend. I got a weird text from her, which made me stupid hopeful, but it turned out Elise had texted me from her phone. I guess to fix us up or something.”

  “I take it that didn’t work. Since you’re here scowling at my daughter instead of hooking up with Karin.”

  “Is it okay to talk about this in front of the baby?”

  “Yeah. Unless you’re teaching her the alphabet in the wrong order or something. She’s fine. Aren’t you, baby girl?” she cooed.

  “I’m not going to beg her for her attention.”

  “Yeah, how’s that going? Because you’re in a foul mood. If not even this ray of sunshine here can cheer you up, you have to do something.”

  “I am. I’m throwing myself into my work. I’m booking more excursions than ever, and I’m going to work from dawn until sundown for a while. The goal is to be so tired I fall into bed without having time to miss her,” I said.

  “That’s not a great plan,” she said, “First of all, if you’re overtired, that can be a problem for water safety.”

  “I’m a SEAL. We do okay on not much sleep. It’s conditioning.”

  “Fine, whatever. When Connor says he was a SEAL, I just glaze right over and let him do what he wants. I do not want to hear more stories about the hardships you guys endured and all the dangerous missions.”

  “It’s all classified anyway,” I said.

  “You just say that to sound cool,” she said.

  “No, really. It’s classified.”

  “Whatever. You can’t bury yourself in work and ignore your feelings,” Brandi said.

  “Sure I can. I’m a SEAL.”

  “I would start taking a shot every time one of you says that, but I’d be drunk all the time and I have a child to take care of. Now go take your grumpy A-S-S,” she spelled, “to the pub. Sort things out.”

  “I would, but I’m going to turn in soon. I have an early morning.”

  “Dude, Lilly doesn’t even go to bed this early,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Have a good one, Brandi. Thanks for trying to help.”

  “Anytime. But you have to figure this out. It won’t go away, and there’s about to be a wedding. When she shows up with a date, I don’t want to see anybody throwing punches at Elise and Brendan’s reception,” she warned.

  I shrugged and let myself out of the gate and walked down the way to my cabin. Karin with a date didn’t sound that good to me. In fact, it made me want to get drunk. But the last time I did that, apparently something went wrong.

  A couple of days into my punishing back to back schedule at work, Brendan called to remind me about a fitting for our suits for the wedding. I promised him I’d be there. Eight excursions later with only a thirty-minute break for a protein bar and a couple bottles of water, I packed it in and went into town to the bridal shop they were using for the wedding. As I pocketed my keys and headed for the door, I ran into the bride-to-be herself.

  I kissed her cheek.” How are you doing? With the new agency and the wedding plans and all?” I asked.

  “I’m good. I’m just a little tired. Things are going really well at the agency; a couple new accounts came in this week. As for the wedding, Karin is doing a lot of the planning for me.”

  I wanted to ask how she was, but I kept myself from it. It was bad enough hearing her name. The last thing I wanted was an update that included some new guy she was seeing and how they hit it off and she’d be bringing him to the wedding. I frowned just thinking about it.

  “Is there anything I can do to help with the wedding?” I said, “take anything off your plate?”

  “Unless it’s making sure Karin doesn’t stuff penises in the wedding cake, I don’t know what it would be,” she said with a laugh.

  I stared at her, knowing it had to be one of their inside jokes. It just cut me to know I wasn’t part of it, that I didn’t know what she was talking about. I shrugged it off.

  “If you need me to patrol the cake, I’d be happy to volunteer as a taste tester,” I said lightly.

  “Oh, I’m getting chocolate. And despite her threats, there will be ZERO peppermint dicks in my cake. Got that?” she said in a mock stern voice.

  “I’m not the one you need to warn. It never occurred to me to put edible genitals in your wedding cake.”

  “Thanks Mick, you’re a real peach,” Elise said with a smile.

  “You go put your feet up and relax. And tell Brendan I’m doing his bidding and getting measured on schedule.”

  “Thanks. You O’Shea’s are all special-order sizes with your ridiculous arms and shoulders.”

  “And proud of it” I said, giving her a smile as I waved her off.

  I turned to open the door when I heard her call back over her shoulder, “Just give her some time, Mick. She’ll come around.”

  This was like a crossbow bolt right in my resolve. I didn’t need hope. Hope was toxic to me in this case. I had to let Karin go. And any indication that she might someday, somehow decide to come back to me was the opposite of helpful. I had to forget her, but now that was completely impossible because my future sister-in-law who meant well and wanted to encourage me, had just said something that took root in my heart. Karin might come back. She might change her mind. She might not be hitting it off with some new guy. She might be missing me the way I was missing her.

  I fidgeted during my fitting, my body restless just from the mention of her name, the merest hint that she might still be interested in being with me. It w
as all I could do to restrain myself, to keep from buying flowers and a value pack of size XXL condoms and knocking on her door. I shifted my weight and asked if the tailor was done.

  “I will be finished soon,” he said tightly. I could tell I was trying the guy’s patience, and I didn’t blame him. I tried to stand still.

  After what seemed like forever, he was done and I could leave. I detoured to the gym for a workout, doing more reps than usual, trying to work out all that tension that had my blood boiling for Karin. Give her time, Mick, echoed in my mind. I couldn’t put it to rest, that stubborn spark of hope. It was determined to catch fire, to let me believe she’d come back to me. I was going to drive myself insane like this. It wouldn’t take long to go crazy between the long hours I was working and the upcoming wedding and the weight of missing Karin that I wore around my neck like an anvil.

  My head pounded with the memories.

  At home, I made myself go directly to sleep. It was a matter of discipline, a technique I’d learned in the Navy when we had only an hour or two to sleep and in uncomfortable conditions. You learned to rest when you had the chance and not let your mind keep you awake. If I could sleep sitting up in a swamp with malaria-carrying mosquitos swarming me, I could sleep in a comfortable bed in my own home despite missing my ex-girlfriend, I reasoned.

  Still, my stubborn, errant body woke me a few hours later. I jolted awake, drenched in sweat and hard as steel from a vivid dream. It had been the kind of dream you don’t forget. It had felt so real I wanted to climb back into it and maybe never leave. It was preferable to my reality of waking up sweaty and alone.

  In the dream, I had been sleeping when a knock at my door woke me.

  I’d answered in just my boxers and found Karin standing there. She was in her pajamas—a pair of booty shorts and a tank top, her hair in a messy bun. She had asked if she could come in for a minute, and I’d let her in. Then she touched my face, running her nails lightly along the rough growth of beard since the last time I shaved. The way shivers ran from the scrape of her nails straight to my balls was sharp and wild. I bit my lip and she leaned into my mouth.

  “I made a mistake,” she said against my lips, lifting herself on tiptoe to reach me.

  Her breath was warm on my skin, and I wanted to taste her. My heart raced, and every part of my body was on high alert, so sensitive to the brush of her skin against mine, even the way the cotton of her shorts clung a little to the fabric of the knit boxers I wore.

  “I want to stay the night. Will you have me?”

  “I’ll have you every way I can think of and at least two more ways besides,” I had groaned as I took her mouth.

  The relief that coursed through my body rippled along every nerve as my tongue plundered her sweet mouth, the mouth I’d yearned for through so many long and lonely nights since she said she just wanted to be friends. I ate at her mouth, nipping her lips, stroking the column of her bare throat. I savored the familiar smoothness of her skin against my fingers and palms. God, she felt good. She felt right and amazing and everything that had been miserable and angry and wrong was right again. I could breathe easier. It was more than the relief of getting a fix of my drug of choice—which she was—it was the sense of fitting perfectly with her, of having her right where she belonged.

  And then she was. She was pressed fully against me, her body pinned between me and the door. I had jerked down her shorts and as I kissed her, and her arms ringed my neck, I’d shoved her up the door and held her by the thighs. I loved her strong thighs filling my hands and I levered her up and then lowered her. My cock was rock hard and sticking out of my boxers. I impaled her on my shaft, bringing her down over my throbbing rod all at once. She threw her head back, cried out as I filled her. She whimpered and clutched at my shoulders and my hair, panting as I pumped into her. God, she was so tight and so wet for me. I felt gripped, captured, practically strangled by her and I loved every second of it. I was so hard I could barely see straight. But our mouths were like magnets for each other, kissing and licking and sucking, uneven and jerky as I thrust inside her tight body. She was screaming, “Yes, Mick, yes!” when I woke up.

  It was a rude awakening. I rolled over, punched my pillow and tried to cool down. It wasn’t real. She wasn’t here. She was gone, but Elise had said to give Karin time, that she’d be back. Damn it. Damn my ears that I’d heard her say it. No matter what my brain told me was real, my body held out that hope and clung to it. My body wanted her back where she belonged. So did my heart, goddammit. Even my subconscious had turned against me, serving up a dream that set my body on fire and ripped out my heart. The dream of Karin coming home, of saying she should never have left, of her kissing me. Of being able to bury myself inside of her, to lose myself and find myself in her arms. The anguish that tore at me did nothing to soothe my throbbing need.

  I had to forget her. I had to get past this and move on. I couldn’t keep yearning for her. I wanted a wife and a family, and Karin didn’t want those things with me. I had to resign myself to that, even though I’d never given in to defeat once in my life before. Fantasizing about her was a destructive waste of time. But if I didn’t jerk off to get relief, I’d be the first documented case of death from blue balls. Because that’s how bad I wanted her, and that’s how hard I was for her and her alone.

  I set my hand to my cock, stroking rough and quick. I tried to focus on some actress or singer, some past romance, anything. But my brain and my cock wanted nothing but Karin on a constant loop; a private porn reel that tore me up. No matter what I tried to summon up from my spank bank, it morphed into Karin immediately.

  I shut my eyes and masturbated to thoughts of Karin.

  Her hair spread out across my pillow and those stunning lips parted in invitation. I covered her mouth with mine, taking my time, trailing the tip of my tongue along that pouty lower lip, teasing her lips apart and flicking my tongue into her mouth. She touched her own to it, eager, feeling so damn good. She sucked on my tongue, and we played together, back and forth, giving and taking in a kiss that went on so long it made me dizzy. Then I reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top, the neon pink one she’d worn at the beach when I saw her there and saved her from that creep. This time, though, she lifted off the bed, reached back and untied the string behind her back so the bright pink triangle top peeled away from her beautiful breasts and fell into my hands. I covered her breasts with my palms, the warm flesh overflowing my hands. I loved how curvy, what a delicious handful and then some her body was for me. I fondled her nipples, teasing them into tight points, then swirling my tongue around first one and then the other like a filthy ice cream cone. I felt them pebble and grow taut under my tongue. I drew on them with my lips, taking as much of her nipple, her areola, as much of her big breast into my mouth as I could hold. She arched off the bed because she loved it when I consumed her that way. It made her wet. I knew it did.

  I slid my mouth off her breast, a soft pop of sound when her nipple, wet from my tongue, slipped out of my lips. I smiled against her hot flesh as she raked her fingers through my hair, demanding, pleading, urging me on. Her strong thighs parted and let me nestle between them in the heated hollow there, the cushion of her legs gripping me. I loved the way she was rocking against me already, knowing exactly what she wanted and wanting it right now. Her sexual appetite, her unapologetic arousal had never failed to humble me and thrill me. I’d never been with a woman who liked sex so much, who always wanted more and was more than happy to wake me up by straddling me and guiding my morning hard-on into her pussy before I even opened my eyes. My stomach muscles tightened at the thought. I was going to have to get inside her fast before I blew. Playing with those luscious breasts had driven me wild, and I wasn’t going to last as long as I wanted to. There was always round two, I reminded myself, and often there was round three as well. We could go all night, the two of us, on the bed, a chair, a table, up against the wall. Once I’d flipped her around and bent her over the bath
room sink when she was brushing her teeth. I’d fucked her from behind while she watched in the mirror. Because sometimes I had to have her, and she had to have me. It didn’t matter what else we were doing.

  But now, I bore her down into the bed with my full weight, feeling all of her skin against me, the writhe of her needy, aroused limbs sliding along my legs, my back, and then my fingers going between her thighs. Without hesitating even a second, I pushed three fingers inside her, three long fingers questing and stroking in her wet sex. She arched and pushed, tried to grind. I held her still and let my scissoring fingers drive her insane until she came around me in tight, clenching waves. Then as she kissed my mouth, messy and urgent, her hands gripping my hair tight, I drove my cock into her raw and bare. I rode her bareback, going in with deep, hard thrusts, swallowing every cry of pleasure. Every time I went so deep, plunging inside her tight, slick passage, it felt so good, so damn good I couldn’t stop. Then just when I thrust in all the way, buried balls deep in her tight pussy, I felt her start to flutter, the hiss of her breath, the whimper that told me she was about to come. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, relentless, giving her no quarter. She screamed, scraped her nails down my back as she milked me, her inner muscles clenching so hard around my cock I thought I’d never be able to pull out. She was swallowing me whole, making me come so hard. White-hot pleasure rolled over me and through me like being dragged under by a massive wave, swept off the surfboard but not even caring. Borne down and down into blackness, but a darkness suffused with ecstasy.