by Sweet, Izzy
Is that a bad thing? Former playboy with a girl passed out in his bedroom, who he hopefully just knocked up?
That’s not so bad right?
Moving back to set the squat bar back in its holder, I look down at my shaking thighs. Fuck, even now my goddamn dick is still hard as hell, and now it feels…
I’m not sure what it feels like. My body is tight everywhere. My skin, my muscles, and my abs are aching from the sit-ups.
And doing sit-ups with a boner is fucking weird.
My body hurts a shit ton. Somewhere between the bench press and the squats, I zoned out. Well, not exactly zoned out… The sit-ups were a bit worrisome, like my dick wanted to have a conversation with me or something, but mostly I just worked out.
Mitzy’s still here, laying down on the floor and looking at me. She’s got that look in her eye that tells me if she could talk, I would absolutely hear everything she’s got running through her mind.
Shaking my head at her, I say, “I don’t even want to hear it. You wanted a mommy just as bad as I wanted a wife.”
Bending over, I grab her up off the floor and start the achingly slow climb back up the stairs. She’s not a heavy little thing at all, but right now my arms feel like jelly.
“We both need a shower, sweetie,” I say quietly to her.
She gives me a loud sigh as I continue. “It’s been a couple weeks for you, and I don’t want your skin to get itchy and dry again.”
We move through the house as quiet as thieves in the night, and considering how loud Sophia is snoring in bed when we pass by her, I don’t think we needed to bother.
Holy fuck, either she was fucking in desperate need of sleep or she’s got a chainsaw lodged up her nostrils.
Fluffers, the fucking cat, just looks at me as I pause to listen to the sound of a thousand chainsaws. And I swear the fucker is daring me to even say a word.
Giving the cat the finger, I move on with Mitzy in tow. Shower time is usually pretty easy with her. I’ve been doing it with her since she was a baby, and with the silent hair dryer I bought for her, she doesn’t usually give me any issues.
Setting the water to an even temperature so I don’t scald or freeze my princess, I gently set her down in the walk-in shower.
I should have done this with Sophia last night too, but she was too far gone for this type of aftercare. I don’t think she would have been able to stand even if I had brought in crutches for her to use. I have a nice stone bench in here to rest on, but Sophia was just too dead to the world after I finished with her.
I cleaned her up with some warm water and a washcloth.
But is it fucked up that I tried to not clean up too much around her pussy? Like I wanted all those fast-ass swimmers to make it up there and give me as many babies as possible?
Twins? Triplets? What’s the optimal amount of babies to make with her so she’ll stay here forever?
Soaking, lathering, and rinsing all fill my thoughts as I make sure Mitzy is thoroughly cleaned and groomed. I won’t try to cut her hair. I’ve tried that before and she ended up looking very cross with me. But I can bathe her like she’s a baby, which she loves.
I wonder if Sophia and my babies will like shower and bath time with their daddy?
I know kids aren’t as easy as dogs to please and make happy, but I’m sure some of the same principals apply. Like tummy time and feeding on a regular schedule. Diapers and not getting sleep aren’t going to be an issue, not after being in the military. I’ve gone days without proper sleep and still had to function at a peak performance level.
Babies won’t be easy though, I know that for a fact. I know it won’t be all roses and happiness. I’m not stupid enough to believe that there won’t be rough times. But just the thought of having a child of mine in my arms… it gives me this weird warm feeling in the deep part of my stomach.
The same feeling I get when I take care of Mitzy and Sophia.
* * *
Maybe four hours of sleep and I’m still fucking wired as can be. I tucked a sleepy Mitzy back into the bed now that she’s dry and happy. And I can’t stop myself from sitting on the edge of the bed to watch Sophia sleep.
Creepy, I know.
I know it’s fucking creepy, but how can I not watch the woman that has me yearning in the most painful of ways? How can I not want to watch her as she sleeps safely in my bed?
Her body is so perfectly aligned with my own when I think of how she looks. Where some women go to extremes to make their bodies look a certain way, Sophia’s is… perfect. My brain tells me that no matter how good it might look now, it will change in the future. It’s not possible to stay the same. But my heart is telling me that when those changes happen, they’ll be even sexier.
Fuck. Am I in love?
Shit.
I probably am.
It’s not like I can’t feel love.
And it’s not like I don’t want to feel love.
But do I deserve love? Do I deserve to love a woman like Sophia?
Fuck.
Am I putting her on a pedestal that she can’t truly stand on?
I don’t know.
I know she does all the human things. She’s as earthborn as I am.
I may feel like she’s a heavenly body, but she’s not.
I know she’s a pure soul in a world of shit. I know that despite all the hurt and anger in her body right now, she’s still deep down the woman who will give her last dollar to some poor bum on the street.
She’s not the selfish type, even if she thinks she is.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’ve done way too much deep thinking and internal monologuing today. This is not like me. I don’t do all this thinking. I move and act, I don’t debate and ponder.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Fluffers looks at me when I look back down at the bed, and I can’t help but feel judged by the little ball of fur. She’s looking at me with those huge cat eyes, and I know she’s wondering why I give two shits about being a killer. She was born to kill, that’s a cat’s intended purpose.
She doesn’t apologize for what she is.
Should I?
Getting up from the bed, I make my way out of the bedroom and walk to the small office next door. I need to do something. I can’t just sit here and stew in my thoughts.
The laptop Simon set up for me sits on my desk, and as much as I know I want to be back in the bed with Sophia, I need to work. I need to get this shit resolved so I can get us back to some semblance of safety.
I need to figure out the who’s, what’s and why’s of it all.
Heading out of the office, I go down to the kitchen and set up a pot of coffee. I need something dark and bitter right now. But I also need to figure out what’s for breakfast. I could do another casserole bake, but I’m thinking more along the lines of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
Maybe some spicy sausage so Sophia has a reminder of our night last night.
No.
No, I don’t think that would actually work out the way I’d want it to. She might not see the humor in it.
Shit.
Running upstairs, I head straight back into the office to grab the laptop and head right back down to the kitchen.
Opening up a search browser, I type in the words I never thought I’d see myself typing.
What do you feed pregnant women?
Shit.
What the fuck does folic acid have to do with anything?
No uncooked meats, no blue-veined cheeses, no high-mercury fish. Gotta watch her caffeine intake. Milk, fruit juice, and cheese all need to be pasteurized.
Fuck me.
I mean I can cook or do anything she needs, it doesn’t look too complicated. But I sure as fuck didn’t think it would be this many things to eat, not eat, or to watch out for.
“What the fuck was I thinking?” I ask myself and turn to my fridge. “Dick goes in hole, baby comes out. That’s all I thought.”
“What?
” Sophia asks, sounding a little annoyed as she walks into the kitchen.
Fuck.
I was so wrapped up in my own shit I didn’t even hear her moving about the house.
That’s… That’s not good.
“Sit down,” I say and point over my shoulder to the stools in front of the kitchen island.
“What?” she repeats, and I can hear that tone again from yesterday. The same tone she had right before I got a coffee cup thrown at me.
Looking into the fridge, I start checking my fruit juice bottles to make sure they all say pasteurized on them.
“Orange juice or pineapple… Scratch the pineapple juice. Orange juice?” I ask.
“Coffee,” she grumbles as I hear her sit down behind me.
“Coffee’s not good for you,” I say and grab the bottle of orange juice from the fridge.
She stares at me like I’m stupid as fuck. “Then why are you making a pot?”
I shrug both shoulders and head to the cabinet to get a cup for her juice. “Because it’s not bad for me.”
Sighing so loudly I think the people in the international space station heard her, she says “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Setting the juice in front of her, I point at her flat-for-now tummy. “It’s not good for the baby.”
Red? Tomato? Nuclear fallout? Those words and more could be used to describe the look that comes over Sophia’s face the instant she realizes what I’m talking about.
“Give me a cup of coffee or I’ll stab your dick with a fork,” she growls before standing up and heading toward me.
“Look, I just want what’s—” I try to say before she passes by me and grabs a coffee mug down from the cabinet.
Pouring herself a big cup, she looks at me and says, “I doubt I’m pregnant, James. I know last night and the other time were… Look, I don’t think it’s happened. But I really do need to get my pills and take them.”
The way she emphasizes the word take annoys me. It’s as if she’s trying to tell me with that one word to fuck off.
“Caffeine in moderation is okay, I guess,” I say before turning back to the fridge and grabbing the eggs, spinach, tomatoes, bacon, and cheddar.
She can have her coffee. I would say I’ll be damned if she tries to take another birth control pill, but I’m pretty sure I’m already headed to hell anyways.
Turning back, I watch as she pours more sugar in her cup of coffee than I’ve ever seen someone pour.
“You want some coffee with that cup of sugar, sweetheart? I mean, if you need that much sweetness in your life, I can help…” I smirk at her when she looks up at me.
Swirling my hips in a good imitation of a hula girl, I love the little grin she gets on her face before she tries to hide it.
“If your dick comes near me in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll punch it,” she grumbles before walking back to the stool slowly, like she’s in pain.
“Fuck!” I nearly shout as I move to her. “What’s wrong?”
Motioning at me to stay away, she gently sits back down on the stool and frowns at me. “You really don’t know anything about women, do you?”
Tilting my head to the side, I look at her and cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“James,” Sophia says with a shake of her head as she starts to blush. “I’m… sore down there right now from…”
Seeing Sophia blush gives my cock a fresh stirring of vigor. Like I don’t know if seeing a woman blush is a kink, but fuck, it’s so damn sexy on her. Her pale flesh flushes and there’s a small bead of moisture on her upper lip from her coffee…
Damn, I’m starting to get that feeling again from last night. The one where I want to do dirty, dirty things to her. I want to dominate and control her. I want to force her up her peaks and push her through the valleys.
To break her over my cock…
“Don’t even think about it,” Sophia snaps at me.
Suddenly I realize I’ve been slowly moving towards her like a cat about to pounce its prey.
“Think about what?” I ask as innocently as possible.
“James, if you try to have sex with me right now, it’ll hurt, and not in the way you think,” she says and starts to move away from me.
Looking at the way she’s moving though, I can feel my predator instincts kicking in.
She’s like the wounded gazelle on the plains…
And I’m the cheetah about to bring her down.
“Mmmhmm,” I growl quietly at her.
Maybe she’s already pregnant. Maybe she’s going to get one of those big sexy bellies. The type I’ll rub my hands all over before moving them up to her big, luscious tits.
“James!” Sophia says loudly as I try to cut off her route of safety. “I’m serious, I’m so raw down there it hurts. I honestly think you bruised my cervix, James, because I’m starting to cramp.”
Pain.
Shit.
Fuck.
Asshole.
Me.
“Shit,” I say as I shake my head, snapping myself out of the hunting mode I was slipping into.
“Yeah,” she grumbles as she walks back to her stool.
Her ass looks so fucking good in my sweatpants, I want to slap it, but I doubt I’d get to keep all of my fingers if I did.
“So, are you like… really hurting down there?” I ask and make little gesture towards her painful bits.
Fuck, what is wrong with me? I say down there now instead of pussy?
Shaking her head at me again like some disappointed teacher, she asks, “James, you’re how old and you don’t know about this stuff?”
“Hey…” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“It feels like I have a sunburn on top of a bruise right now,” she snaps.
“Oh,” I mutter as I back away quickly and head to the stove.
If I can’t fuck her, I’m going to feed her.
There’s more than one way to make a woman love me.
“I also feel like I’m going to start my period early, like way too early with the cramps I have going on,” she adds before taking a long drink of her coffee.
Wincing at the thought, I ask, “Do you want some Tylenol?”
“Honestly?” she asks then nods. “Yeah, I do.”
Glancing at the laptop that’s sitting next to her on the island, I move over to it and type in the first question that comes to my mind.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she leans in to see the screen. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Well, I had to check!” I shout right back.
She leans into my face and snarls loudly, “I’m not pregnant!”
“Fuck, I wanna break you over the island right now,” I say with a growl back at her. “Maybe even spank that tight juicy ass of yours again. You really liked that last night.”
“Argh!” she groans and quickly leans away from me. “I did not!”
“Um, you yelling out for me to do it harder last night begs to differ. Especially when I started to put my thumb in your—" I try to say, but she raises the glass of orange juice at me.
“I’ll break this and cut your throat if you finish that sentence, James,” she says quietly.
It’s the quiet way she says those words that lets me know I should back down for now.
But she really did like having her backdoor played with. Almost as much as she liked it when I swatted those asscheeks to watch them jiggle.
“Anyway, Tylenol is safe for you,” I say and move over to the cabinet above the kitchen sink.
“Just give me the pills and let me drink my coffee,” she grumbles, and yet again her cheeks are blushing.
Is it because of the reminder of last night? Or because she knows deep down she’s fucking knocked up?
Giving her two tablets, I refocus on the omelets and bacon. “Do you want toast?”
“No, just coffee,” she says.
“Not going to happen, you need to eat. You’ve gone too many
days without eating,” I say and continue to work at the stove.
Sophia slams the coffee cup she’s been holding down. “You can’t fucking control me like this, James.”
“Beth,” I say with a chuckle.
“What?” she snaps.
“I’ll tell Beth,” I say with a small shrug of my shoulders.
If she wants to be a brat, I’ll tell on her.
“Fucking tattletale,” I hear her murmur.
“For your benefit, yes. Otherwise I keep everything between us,” I say.
Mincing the garlic, chopping the tomatoes and small flecks of onions, I grin at how good this is going to taste. Bacon will be the perfect side, especially with some fresh fruit.
My world slowly dissolves into creating a breakfast for Sophia that I know will cement her even further to my side. Like I said, if I can’t fuck her into loving me, I’ll feed her into it.
Handing her the plates as I finish them, I make sure to hand it over in an order that I think will be most pleasing to the palette. Omelet first, bacon right in the middle of it, then the fruit as a refreshing desert.
Savory, salty, sweet.
Just like sex.
13
James
Sitting on the couch in the living room with Sophia beside me watching some show on TV, I lean back from the laptop I’ve been plugging at for the last three hours. My eyes are starting to blur and my head feels tight, like it’s got too much information to separate.
“Sophia?” I ask during a commercial break.
“Hmm? And no, blow jobs are not on the table either,” she says, distracted as she strokes Mitzy’s head.
Ignoring her rebuff of any type of sex, I ask, “When a TO requests for their training cadet to be removed, does that cadet get drum rolled out of the police program? Or is there a way for the cadet to move to a different TO?”
“They usually move them to a different TO if possible. Or put them in a holding pattern, unless it’s for disciplinary reasons… Wait, why do you ask?”
“How well do you know TO Dickers?” I ask.
Her attention is fully on me now.
Moving Fluffers and Mitzy from her lap, there’s a strange look on her face. “My dad didn’t like him at all.”
