by Mj Fields
Natasha and Maisie were nervous as hell. Truth be told, so was I. But if she was going to have our child on the plane, there wasn’t shit we could do to stop it.
With each contraction, she and I held hands and she looked me in the eyes.
I could hear Natasha whispering to Maisie that she was googling how to deliver a baby on a plane. And Maisie was scribbling on a notepad.
When her contractions stopped, she would curl up next to me, and I would rub her belly.
We made it in plenty of time. She was in labor, hard labor, for ten hours.
Ten. Fucking. Hours.
I almost didn’t make it. I tried to bribe the doctor to just take the baby by C-section, but she scolded me, because the French OB-GYN had e-mailed Angela’s birthing plan.
Note to all the future fathers out there: fuck birth plans. Fuck. Them.
The only things that didn’t go according to her plan were the date and the fact that Natasha passed out as soon as she stepped into the room. Luckily, Oliver was there for Maisie or she would have been hurt.
Even then, Angela held it together. She got out of her hospital bed, against my advice, and walked out to the waiting room where she ordered me around as to what Natasha needed. Ice chips, then ginger ale, then crackers, and lastly, a lollipop. Only when the color returned to her face did Angela agree to get her ass back in bed.
Through contractions, she explained that Natasha had been through too many hospital visits, surgeries, and procedures to be here now.
As directed by my bossy, little woman, I went out and told Oliver to take her home. Being her mother’s daughter, she refused.
Angela, she was a rock star. However, her plan went to hell when she had to have a c-section due to her small canal.
Joshua Jean Josephs was born May twenty-first at eleven fifty-nine at night. He weighed eight pounds even and was twenty-two inches long. He was and continues to be completely healthy. He had a full head of dark hair and blue eyes that are now changing to hazel.
There were no issues, just the realization that women are stronger than men.
When we knew everything was fine, she and I both cried. And I am man enough to admit it.
We had created a life. All living things should be considered miracles, but he, god, he was so very miraculous.
We came home three days later to the place I’m sure he was conceived—our Hampton cottage.
As much as Maisie wanted to be here all the time, it wasn’t really doable. The winter took a toll on her. Oliver, though, managed to pull off a summer program and had hired plenty of staff to oversee it. He was there the majority of the time with Maisie and worked remotely.
We took Joshua, over daily for Maisie to spend time with him. Today, Oliver brought her to us.
Standing outside, watching the last week’s group of kids swim and watching Angela help Maisie hold our little one, I look up and thank my angels. I thank God, and yes, I selfishly pray for more time.
Later, lying in bed, I watch Angela feed Joshua from her body. I have seen it a hundred times, but it’s doesn’t matter. It’s remarkable. There is nothing more beautiful than a woman and her child bonding. Not just while feeding, but in the way they look at each other. The trust, the love, the bond that I know, even when one is no longer of this earth, is unbreakable.
Between Natasha, Maisie and Angela all trying to mother him, it’s a good thing I’m used to no sleep. It seems to be the only time he and I have together, aside from diaper changing. That’s one task they don’t seem to mind giving him up for.
This means I’m stuck on Syphilluffagus duty, a lot.
When she’s finished, she looks over. “Would you like to hold your son?”
“Yes, of course.”
Leaning against the headboard with his head on my shoulder and his warm, little body against mine, I burp him.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Take all the time you need. Hell, it’s Friday night; why not live it up and take a bath? We got this.”
She smiles as she gets up. Then, at the foot of the bed, she turns around and looks at me. “You’re an amazing father, Bass.”
“Joshua makes me look good.”
She stands there a moment and closes her eyes. “Thank you.”
Thank you? What does that mean?
I look down at him when she shuts the door. “They’re complicated yet beautiful creatures, little man.”
He responds by burping.
“Us, not so much,” I kiss his little head.
When he burps again, I lay him in the bassinet beside the bed then walk to the bathroom. I open the door and see her stepping into the bath, her ass on full display.
I look down at my rising cock and decide, right now, I won’t talk him down.
She sets one foot on the edge of the garden tub, and then I see her reach between her legs.
“If you need any assistance, by all means, ask.”
She looks over her shoulder at me and raises the razor in her hand. “Hope you don’t mind; I’m using yours. I can’t seem to find mine.”
“What’s mine is yours, Angela. But yours is right there.” I point beside her.
“Huh?” she says but makes no attempt to exchange them, swiping with my razor then looking back. “Yours is a cleaner shave, and I like the thought of your face being between my legs.”
Instantly hard.
“I like the thought of it, too.” I push off the door and walk toward her.
She peeks back then continues shaving.
“Would you mind grabbing that loofa across the tub?”
“Way over there?” She points.
I grip her hips. “I won’t let you fall.”
She bends slowly, ass in the air, and I spread her cheeks then lick her from front to back. She takes a big breath, filling her lungs, and then I lick again before pushing my tongue into her.
“Bass.” Her voice quivers.
I run my finger up and down her seam then suck her lips into my mouth.
“I’m glad I got props for being a good dad, but Angela, I’m your husband first.”
“I guess it’s been a while, so—oh God.”
I lick her again, this time harshly, and then circle my tongue around her clit before sucking on it and pulling it out.
“You sure you’re ready?”
“I’m sure,” she moans when I push a finger inside her. When I curl it upward, she clenches around it.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” I work my finger around inside her, stretching her.
“You’re … you’re … Bass,” she whimpers.
I reach around her and bring her back, setting her feet on the ground. Then I drop to my knees, pull my finger out, and lick her pussy. “So fucking good.”
I stand up and turn her so she’s facing me, lift her up, and kiss her as I walk to the counter. I set her on it then drop down again.
Spreading her legs wide before me, I push a finger in, and she grips the edge of the counter. I bow down and suck her as I fuck her with my finger. Then I add another.
She grabs my hair with both hands as I bury my face between her legs. She bucks against me, her ass rising off the counter to thrust. When I suck on her clit, her body trembles as she pulls back. I grip her hips and hold her in place while I fuck her with my tongue until she comes. Then I continue at a slower pace, bringing her down from her orgasm nice and gently.
I stand and kiss her; slow, long licks inside her mouth. Her moans meet my groans.
She reaches between us, shoves her hand down my shorts, grabs my cock, and begins to stroke me.
I kiss her neck and tell her, “You keep it up, I’m gonna come.”
“Do we have condoms?”
“No, but—”
She squeezes me hard. “But nothing.”
I bite her neck. “What’s one more?”
She squeezes even harder now, and I laugh uncomfortably.
“I love you, Bass … so, so much, but let’s not tempt f
ate again.”
Her strokes quicken, and I’m so fucking turned on and in fucking need of this. I don’t even care if I come in my shorts.
“Never?” I whisper.
She squeezes tighter, not knowing her pussy’s tighter than that, and I kind of love it.
“Give me a year, then ask me.”
“Are you…? Oh fuck, Ang,” I hiss as she pumps me harder and faster, kissing my neck, my shoulders, my mouth. She doesn’t stop until I do what I knew I would after nearly twelve weeks without.
I come in my shorts.
Acknowledgments
To the readers of this book: Because of you, my past is my past, my present is beautiful and my future is brighter. Without you this unrealized dream would never be.
You are my blessings. Thank you so much for reading my words, my stories, sending messages, emails, being part of my group, commenting on posts, leaving reviews...basically thank you for anything and everything you do for the love of my words.
To the bloggers involved in this release: Some of you have been with me forever, some are new, but all of you are gold to me.
To Kris: You are one of the most amazing women I know. You are invaluable to me and I hope that these words are felt and not just read… even without out you tweaking. Edits are a favorite part of the writing process for me, because of you. Your input, your advice, your messages, your encouragement, your love for the characters, your dedication and ability to deal with me… priceless.
To Asli: You are a life saver! Every last minute ‘911’ call is answered with sunshine. You are such an amazing human being and someone I hope to meet someday. Thank you!
To Elle: Your love of books inspires so many. You keep the hometown side working so much more smoothly and are always here to give me words to lift me up when I’m feeling down. Thank you.
To my reader group: You’re my people! You’re where I go when I need to feel like I’m home in the book world. Thank you for loving the characters your love pushes me to continue writing.
To my ARC crew: I love your passion and support for every book I put out. So many of you have become such close friends, may we be together forever.
To Autumn: A million thank yous for taking me on and handling everything. Your knowledge and expert advice is pure gold. Your friendship and virtual hugs, invaluable.
To my girls: Bobbie, Jamie, Paige, Ivy, Laurie, Renee, Christa, KA, everyday warm hugs, hilariousness and support. I love you all… hard.
To Jessica Ruben: Jessie, Jessie, Jessie… I am soooo happy to have met you through our book whisperer and common friend. I’m thrilled that I got so very lost in your words and felt connected with you through them. (Read Rising!!) And I am so blessed to call you friend.
To Liv Morris: In a world where we ‘authors’ are many, often live behind a keyboard and don’t get to socialize around the ‘water cooler’, I’m thrilled that I final was able to meet the beautiful person behind the online ‘lips’ which spurred a read of some of your words. Bossy Nights, was amazing, and gives a great insight to the who you are. Southern country charm and big city sweetheart. What an amazing person you are.
To Kate (the great) Stewart: When my phone rang just a couple nights ago and I saw your name I smiled… cause you make me smile. Three minutes’ shy of three hours later, I was still smiling. Thank you so much for the love of this book and for being one of my best friends. A connection made through our words. Room 212 was the first of yours I read. God I love that book! I love all the others too! Hey Kate … I love you.
To Ally: Never forget to love yourself...more. I will always, love you more.
Book Two: Amour Battu
A de la Porte Fashion Novel
Amour Battu
A de la Porte Fashion Novel, Book 2
Copyright (c) MJ Fields, 2019
2nd Edition, Blue Valley Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Jersey Girl Design.
Edited by Mandy Smith with Raw Book Editing, www.rawbookediting.com
Proofread by Asli Arif Fratarcangeli
First Edition: December 2018
Songs That Inspire
Click to play on Spotify
O-o-h Child by The Five Stairsteps
Indestructible by Disturbed
Bodies by Drowning
Last Resort by Papa Roach
I Stand Alone by Godsmack
Man in the Box by Alice in Chains
More Than Arms Reach by Adurn
A Closeness by Dermot Kennedy
Burn The House Down by AJR
Happier by Marshmello / Bastille
You Are My Sunshine by Jasmine Thompson
How Long Will I Love You by Ellie Goulding
Consequences by Camila Cabello
Wasting my Younger Years by London Grammar
Fallen So Young by Declan Donavan
Breathe by Flurie
Be Alright by Dean Lewis
This book is dedicated to
The military heroes who walk amongst us every day.
To all those whose scars have faded but have never truly gone away.
And to the angels who help us believe that it will someday all be okay.
Not every battle is left on the battlefield, some we carry with us.
Part I
Natasha (A Prelude To A Kiss)
Chapter One
Sixteen Years Old
My laptop’s fan begins to hum and the upper right corner of the screen tells me it’s two in the morning.
Pushing myself back from the small desk, I stretch my arms over my head, alleviating the soreness in my back caused by being hunched over for… close to four hours watching YouTube. I rub my eyes and stand.
James Charles, one of my absolute favorite YouTubers, enthusiastic and openhearted, voice blasts, “Hi Sisters!”
It should have been louder; I think as I tap the side of the old headphones I leave here at Dad’s, assuming there is a crossed wire causing the weak connection.
I tap the other side and still nothing. “Damn it,” I mumble under my breath, not wanting to speak too loudly or my siblings may hear me and wake.
When the light in the small bedroom comes on, I look toward the door and see my father in his boxers, not wearing his glasses, stumbling toward me, lips jutting out as if telling me, ‘Shh,’ but I can’t hear him because the headset is covering my ears.
Yet I can still hear James.
I pull them off as he’s reaching for me, and gasp when I realize the old headphone’s wires weren’t crossed at all. The cord must have pulled out and my beloved James was happily telling the entire house his latest makeup tip.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as my dad palms his face. One of my sister’s sobbing echoes through the wall.
His face scrunches up like he’s annoyed, and behind him I see my stepmother’s angry face.
“Shit,” falls out of my mouth and I cover it quickly.
“Could you turn that… that… thing off, for the love of God!” she yells.
My stepbrother Johnny chuckles, “Is that a dude?”
My stepmother Sabrina yells, “Davis!” and points at me with a look of disgust.
My half-sisters, twins Jordan and Joy, both crying, come running in my room. The step-monster drops to her bony knees and hugs them, coddles them, apologizes to them for me and then says, “Do you have something to say to them?”
It’s silent and all eyes are on me. Dirty little Johnny looks me over with
a nasty pre-pubescent grin. I cross my arms over my chest to shield them from the little pervert and glare into his beady little eyes.
“Davis, do something about her!” Sabrina half demands, half pleads.
Dad gives me a beseeching look like he always does when she’s being over the top.
I take two steps toward them, squat down, hold out my arms and smile as big as I can. They run to me for a hug and I say, “Hi sisters!”
“Ugghhh! Davis, you have to do something about her! Get her into therapy! She’s always going to be—”
Dad’s balls take this moment to re-appear. He cuts her off, but I know what she’s going to say, I’ve heard the words whispered so many times I lost count. She’s going to say I’m different.
He raises his voice just below a shout, “That’s enough.”
As he ushers her out of the room, I hug my sisters and they stop crying. When I glance at Johnny, he still has a dirty little grin on his face and he’s staring at my backside.
“Get out,” I hiss at him.
He looks into my eyes, now tauntingly.
I glare at him in warning when he starts to walk to my computer. His finger traces the case and he begins to open it.
“Don’t you dare,” I snarl.
With a devilish gleam in his eye, he lifts it.
And my James’s voice blares through the speakers. “I have the fattest crush on a boy right now, and he's actually gay for once!!!”
Sabrina squeals from the other room, “DAVIS! I. Told. You!”
Johnny runs to the door as I dive for the computer and slam it shut.
The step-monster runs in, Dad hot on her heels.
The girls are crying again and Johnny, the little shit, is covering his ears screaming, “Make it stop!”
