by K. L. Myers
“Night, butterfly.” He said the words quietly as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.
The next morning, they woke to the sun beating down on them through the window in Paisley's room. Sometime during the night, Paisley had rolled to her other side and now Braxton’s morning wood was nestled tightly against her ass.
Feeling a little devilish, she pressed her cheeks tighter to his groin before rubbing herself against him.
“Tease.” Braxton’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“What time did you get home?”
“Midnight.”
Paisley’s body sagged against his before she pulled away to climb out of bed. He reached for her, only she was faster than he was this morning, and all he saw was her retreating back as she made her way to the bathroom.
“Butterfly,” he called to her.
“Don’t call me that.” She was quick to reply.
“It’s not what you think.” He knew she was questioning why he had gotten home so late.
“How do you know what I think?” You’re right. That’s what I think. But can you blame me.
“You think something happened between Josie and me.”
“Didn’t it? It was after eleven when I went to bed, and you still weren’t home. And you hadn’t called or texted.” She hated that she couldn’t fully trust him.
“Nothing happened. I swear it on Emmy’s life.” Braxton spoke desperately.
“Don’t do that; don’t you swear on her life.”
“Fine. I swear on my own life. Can’t you just trust me and let me explain?”
Paisley wasn’t having any of it right now. She closed the bathroom door, and the clicking sound told Braxton she didn’t want to be bothered.
Braxton wasn’t giving up so easily. He sprung from her bed before making his way into Emmy’s room. She hadn’t thought about closing the door to the jack-and-jill bathroom between both of their rooms. Or maybe she had but chose to leave it open as a way for him to get to her.
He knew if he forced his way to her, she’d only shut him out further. Interrupting her morning ritual of washing her face, brushing her teeth, and putting on her makeup—something he’d always thought she looked better without, wasn’t an option. He needed a reason to bother her. And, as if the gods were looking after him, they blessed him with Emmy waking up.
After a quick diaper change and a jaunt to his room to retrieve the photo from his wallet, he now had his reason to bother his pissed off wife.
Paisley refused to acknowledge his presence when he entered the bathroom. He stood behind her, patiently holding his daughter and waiting. He knew she knew he was there, but she refused to allow their gazes to meet in the mirror.
Finally, frustration got the best of him and he couldn’t wait any longer. Braxton slapped the picture he kept in his wallet on the bathroom countertop in front of Paisley.
Paisley glanced at the photo before turning to look at him. “Where did you find that?”
“In my wallet. I’ve had this picture in my wallet since the day we took it. I’ve never removed it, not once, not even when I was with Alissa.”
He looked in the mirror at her and saw her confusion.
“You’ve always been right at the forefront of my life. I convinced myself to believe there was nothing between us because it would have been wrong to have feelings for you.”
Her eyes locked with his.
“I was wrong; those feelings have always been there. This marriage started out of convenience, but now I know I’ve always wanted you. It’s always been you.”
Paisley turned facing Braxton, but couldn’t look at him again. Like a scared mouse, she scampered to Emmy’s crib. Reaching for the little girl and tucking her close to her heart as an added shield against the words Braxton was saying. Slowly, he was working his way deeper into her heart, stripping all her defenses away.
Braxton followed her. “I’d been a hardhead when it came to you. I’d rationalized away all my feelings. But the other night, what we shared only solidified how things should be between us.” Braxton raised his hand to cup Paisley’s cheek. “You’re my wife, my heart, and it’s time we stop acting like roommates and start acting like husband and wife. You belong in my bed, Paisley. You should be the first face I see in the morning and the last I see when I close my eyes. You’re my future, and I don’t want to spend another day without you consuming every inch of my life.”
Tears fell down Paisley’s face. She’d wanted to hear those words from Braxton for so long, and now there they were. He was confessing his love for her.
“What do you say, butterfly? Are you in it for the long haul?”
She didn’t have to wait to answer his question, nor did she have to use words. Crushing her body to his wasn’t an option—not with their daughter between them. Instead she raised her head, gazing at his lips, and he read her thoughts as he took her mouth to seal them together forever.
Chapter 30
Six months later
Paisley stood at the entrance to the walk-in wearing one of Braxton’s dress shirts; only the bottom two buttons held the shirt in place. Her plump, ample breasts popped out of the edges of the shirt, her nipples hidden by the fabric.
Braxton was lying on his back watching the television that hung on the wall, engrossed in the latest episode of Shameless. He glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of Paisley, but her half-dressed state hadn’t initially registered in his mind. “I’m a better dad than William H. Macey right, butterfly?”
Paisley didn’t answer. Instead she remained where she was, waiting for Braxton to glance her way again.
“I can’t believe Fiona isn’t coming back for season ten.” He’d fired off another random comment, yet his eyes were still fixated on the show.
“Maybe that’s why Ian is returning. It won’t make a difference though; the show sucks.”
She’d known that would catch his attention. Trash talking one of his favorite shows always opened him up for debate and made him fighting mad.
“How could you say that?” Braxton pried his eyes away from the television, finally noticing Paisley dressed in only his shirt. His Adam's apple bounced up and down as he swallowed. “Now that’s a sight I’ll never get tired of seeing.”
Paisley pushed off the doorframe and strutted toward Braxton, her lips slightly parted. Her tongue slowly peeked out, enticing him when it ran along her bottom lip.
Braxton focused on the sway of her hips as she moved toward him. His hand reached down to adjust himself as his length began to harden with every step she took.
When she arrived at the bed, she straddled him without hesitation. Her hands grasped his hair, tugging his head back and giving her access to his neck. She became the aggressor, taking what she wanted instead of submitting to his desires, and Braxton was turned on by it.
His steel hard erection below her told her everything she needed to know. She planned to have him begging for mercy and willing to surrender to any request before the night was over. With her end game in sight, she took control and rubbed herself up and down on his dick.
He felt her heat through his boxer briefs, and when he reached around to grab her ass, he found that she was bare under his shirt. Braxton released a low, deep moan as he pressed her center harder against himself, but she slapped his hands away.
“I’m in control tonight, Brax, not you.” Her voice shook as she’d said the words. It took all her strength to push him away when what she really wanted was to submit and let him roll her to her back and devour her. But that wouldn’t get her what she wanted, so she knew she had to stay strong.
Her hands reached between them, allowing her to slide the band of his Armani’s down his legs. He rose his ass off the bed just enough to assist her, and once she had them far enough down, he put his contortionist skills to work by kicking himself free. He felt her slick heat against his skin as he reached for her hips, hoping to move her against his length.
Paisley rolled off his
body; a frustrated grown filled the silent room.
“You’re killing me, butterfly. Get back up here and let me slide into that wet pussy and make you feel good.”
She laughed. It was funny how he thought he was in control of the situation, but it was time for her to show him that wasn’t the case at all. She reached out, taking his manhood into her hand, and began to stroke him slowly. Braxton attempted to speed up the pace by thrusting himself into her. Paisley quickly let go of her grip, her eyes narrowed when his met hers.
Braxton raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. But don’t blame me if I explode before you get yours.”
Paisley rolled her eyes at his overly dramatic statement. The hellcat knew better. He could have fucked all night if he wanted to and he’d proven that to her numerous times. She reached out, clasping him once again, only this time instead of stroking him her mouth opened wide and took him in. A virile growl had filled the room. Paisley swallowed him until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Sucking at his hardness, a popping sound filled the room when he freed himself from her mouth.
“More,” he begged. He could never get enough of her blow jobs. His naughty girl had no gag reflex, which allowed her to take him deeper than he’d ever been before in a woman’s mouth. It was one of her special gifts.
Paisley decided to let him believe he was taking back control as she gave in to his request. Her lips tightened around his length as she hollowed her cheeks and stroked his dick. The feel of him on her tongue set her body on fire. Each twitch told her he was close to release. But she wasn’t going to give in that easily. Just at the moment when it was apparent, he was ready to explode, she released him from her mouth. The tease in her did this several times, until he couldn’t take much more of it.
It was time to put him out of his misery and send him soaring. Crawling up his body, her tits rubbed along his chest as their bodies aligned. When her lips collided with his, Braxton sat up, taking her with him. Paisley reached between them without breaking the kiss, lining his dick to her entrance.
Braxton couldn’t wait any longer, and he’d thrust into her. He received one moment of control before Paisley took it back and controlled the speed in which she raised and lowered herself on him. Her hands had pulled and tugged at his hair as she’d ridden him. The sensation of their bodies together caused her to chase her own climax and forget she was supposed to be in charge.
Her body had risen and fallen on him. She’d twisted and rocked, rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves at her entrance against him. “Oh, God, oh, God,” she’d cried out as she moved faster and harder along him until she rode out her own release.
Her muscles contracted and released multiple times as she went over the edge, and it took everything Braxton had not to follow her into his own heavenly bliss.
When she finally came down from her high, Braxton rolled Paisley to her back. It was his turn then, and he wasn’t going to be gentle—not after she toyed with him for so long. He thrust into her hard and fast, pounding at her entrance with each advance. She squeezed him tighter and tighter, and he could feel her working her way toward her second orgasm. He’d reached down with his right hand, grabbing at her breast and claiming her nipple. With each lunge, he had sucked and bit at her hardened peak, relentless in his attack and determined to take her over the edge once again.
“Come with me, butterfly,” he called out to her as his palm collided with her butt cheek. He wasn’t able to hold back any longer; God knew he tried. As his release exploded into her, it was all the motivation she needed to let go and finally climax along with him.
They laid in each other's arms, fully sated, Braxton had unanswered questions. “What was that all about, Mrs. Michaels?”
Paisley rose her head off his chest so that her eyes met his. “I want us to have our own child.”
Fear fluttered through Braxton. “What did you do, Paisley?”
“You should see your face, Brax.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “I didn’t do anything. I just want you to think about it. Sleep on it, and we can discuss it in the morning.”
Paisley rolled over, turning her back to him as if nothing happened. As if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb between them.
“Ma. Ma. Ma.” The same word bellowed from the baby monitor sitting on the bedside table.
“Da. Da. Da,” Emmersyn cried out
Braxton nudged Paisley in the side. “Your turn.”
Paisley reached behind her, pushing at Braxton’s hip. “Nooo, you do it. I was up late with her.”
Braxton swung his legs off the side of the bed as he sat. He ran his hands through his sex-mussed hair. A smile formed on his lips as he recalled the unbridled lovemaking they’d shared once Emmersyn had fallen asleep the night before.
Emmersyn’s call of Ma and Da through the baby monitor turned into cries. He had gotten so lost in the memory of last night he’d forgotten why he was sitting on the edge of his bed.
Braxton stood. It was time to take care of his daughter, and then it would be time to take care of his wife. A dark cloud hung over him because he knew that this morning could very easily be the beginning of the end. He hadn’t wanted more children for selfish reasons. Telling his wife she’d never bear his child had so many possible outcomes, and none of them ended in his favor.
Chapter 31
Paisley had stared at Braxton’s back as he’d sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. She’d listen to Emmersyn ramble on with her newly found words, ma and da, until those words had become cries. She had thought about crawling out of bed and taking care of the little one, but Braxton had said he would do it and she wanted him to be the one to attend to Emmy.
Finally, after five minutes of crying, she had decided that Braxton was so lost in thought that she needed to get out of bed and tend to their baby girl. But as she rolled to her other side, Braxton finally stood and walked out of the room.
She had seen the fear in Braxton’s eyes last night when she had mentioned wanting to have a child. It had never been a topic of discussion, since their whole marriage had begun as a business arrangement.
Now, almost a year had passed, and Paisley was thinking about a lot of things; a white picket fence and her own children were in the forefront of her mind. Not that she would love Emmersyn any less, but she did want to experience a pregnancy of her own.
Tossing back the covers, Paisley gave herself a mental kick to get up and start her morning. It had been quite some time since she’d heard Braxton speaking to Emmersyn.
She slipped on a pair of purple boy shorts and a matching tank before she exited the bedroom that she now shared with Braxton on a nightly basis. As she got closer to Emmersyn’s nursery, she could hear the faint creaks of the rocker. Instantly she knew why it had been so quiet—Emmersyn was asleep.
She loved being rocked in the old rocker. It had been a family heirloom that was passed down from generation to generation in Paisley’s family. It was the same chair that her mother had rocked her to sleep in.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said when she found Braxton rocking back and forth, his fingers running through the baby’s red curls. The same red curls her mother had had.
Braxton glanced up to find Paisley patiently waiting for an answer. How was he going to explain that he didn’t want any more children? He’d been adamant that he wasn’t interested in raising more children in the past. Yes, he had joked about the response at the time, because it was too early in the day to be having such a serious discussion. But he had thought she’d read between the lines and was onboard with his decision.
“Morning, butterfly. Did you sleep well?”
She wanted to reply that she’d had the best sleep ever, but she knew if she did, she’d have to ask about his nights sleep. And she was certain he had already been thinking about the question she’d asked of him. Not sure she was ready to hear it, she avoided the question.
“Morning, Brax. Are you hungry? I’l
l make us breakfast if you want.”
“Starving. But we need to talk first.”
“Okay, I guess.” She searched his face. “Let me grab a cup of coffee first.”
Braxton rocked for a few more minutes before rising and placing Emmersyn in her crib. When he entered the kitchen, Paisley was standing in front of the window, coffee cup in her hand, and looking into the distance.
“Sit with me.” Braxton pulled out the chair closest to him. Once she was seated. “I know you want more kids, butterfly. I get it; Emmersyn isn’t yours and you want your own child. And you should want that.” Paisley silently acknowledged him. “I don’t, Paisley. It’s too much to ask of me. What if you have complications as well? I can’t stand the thought of losing you because of it.”
Paisley had been ready to fight him if he’d said no. She’d spent the last several minutes staring out the window and replaying over and over in her head what his answers could be so she could argue the pros to each of his cons. But not once had she thought that his reasoning would be based on fear of losing her. “That’s why you don’t want kids anymore. Because you’re afraid I’ll die as well giving birth to our child?” Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes, she silently prayed.
“Yes. I can’t raise one child on my own let alone two. Besides, losing you would be like ripping out my heart. I’d never survive it.”
Paisley’s beat a little faster in her chest at his declaration. Though she felt that strongly about Braxton, she still had moments when she wasn’t sure if he experienced the same level of devotion.
“I won’t die, Brax. And before you argue, hold on a minute.” Paisley pushed away from the table to retrieve her phone. She quickly typed in a search question and then took her seat before showing Braxton her phone. “See, It says 23.8 out of one million women die in childbirth each year. That’s an extremely low number. You don’t have to worry.”