Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance

by Avant, Amarie

  Avery’s shoulders fell.

  “AC, out of all the fucking moments in our lives, good or bad, we just had one of the best ones, baby. You brought my little girl into this world, and I’m not letting one single second ruin it. Do you understand?”

  “I just.” She pressed a hand against her chest. “I don’t get to argue and fight with my mom for missing years. I have to suck it up and take what cards I’ve been dealt. And from the outside looking in, I am lucky.”

  “Nah, we don’t believe in luck. And damn right, we’ve been through some shit together—and apart. But we have each other. Just like you, Jess has a good guy too.” Donavan stood up and went to Avery, his knuckles grazing on her cheeks. “You ladies have had some tension since day one. That’s okay. Jess couldn’t have children, but she took care of our son. And you know what I would really have a problem with instead of this mess?”

  “What,” she murmured.

  “Her actually throwing him away and not fighting for him like we did.” He pawed at her face, his thumb brushing across her mouth in attempt to force her smile. “AC, you made me proud when you said our child. Stubborn as I am, I would’ve told her ass to kick rocks. This is your day, baby. You just had my baby. I’m the king of the fucking world.”

  “Okay Donnie,” she huffed, her lips puckering against his thumb, softly kissing his print.

  “No ‘okay.’ You handled yourself well. I would’ve been nice to her ass tomorrow. Not today.”

  “Well, it’s hard being nice too.” Avery glanced down. He cupped her chin, and she gave a huff before looking into his eyes. “Nothing short of impossible. Growing up with you, I am perceptive of what could’ve been for our son. The hard life he could’ve led without good parents in foster care and that makes it so damn hard, so damn hard to forgive my mother. Now, Jess and I are both doing our best. But ultimately, we want Junior to smile, and not because of something the other one of us did. We love him selfishly.” She scoffed. “But because of my mom, he could’ve ended up with parents that—”

  “We don’t need ‘ifs’ baby.”

  “I know.” She shook her fist at her side. “They’ve been good to him. They’ve raised Maggie well, too. So my mom has us in this position where we have to be grateful when Jess would keep him if she could. I would too.” Avery sighed, almost feeling like she was in the position to kidnap her own child. Exhaling, she said again, “They’ve been good to him.”

  He nodded. “They have. It’s just the two of you women, always competing. Always bumping heads.”

  “Yeah. I guess when we get home, maybe next weekend, we can all get together for Sunday dinner and chat. Junior has a big ass family that loves him.”

  Donavan gave Avery a hug, holding her as tightly as possible. Jessica was right about a few things. Avery didn’t know about Junior’s desire to hear. Right now wasn’t the best time. For now, he was speaking with the teacher every week, and it appeared that the bullying was decreasing. He wanted Junior to decide after all the crap died down

  15

  Donavan

  March

  Donavan had just finished mowing almost an acre of land for spring and the grand opening of the bed and breakfast. Tonight, the Carlsons were coming over so that they could all chat about how to collaborate for Junior. Donavan felt like it would be the best time to mention to Avery, Junior’s thoughts about hearing as well.

  He took off his sweaty shirt and headed into the kitchen where Avery was checking the thermometer for dinner. Carly was placing a layer of dough over the apple pie she was baking.

  “Hey, babe.” Avery ran into his arms, kissing him square on the lips. “We have news.”

  “I smell like wet dog, must be good news.”

  “Carly is joining our team. She’ll be the receptionist who occasionally makes breakfast pastries and desserts for our guests, and then be on site when you’re out or I’m doing a tour of the grounds. How does that sound?”

  “Like you’ve got everything covered.”

  She leaned back. “Okay, input would be nice.”

  Donavan tried on a smile. He was more interested in breaking the news this evening. “I think that’s a great idea, AC.”

  She slapped at his chest. “Now, you’re just kissing ass.”

  “Shit, I’ve been begging for a week to kiss every inch of that—”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Carly held up the rolling pin. “You’ll be seeing stars if you finish that sentence.”

  Donavan’s phone rang in his pocket. He tossed the bird to his sister before pulling it out and answering.

  “We won’t be able to make it tonight.” Ted apologized.

  Donavan’s eyebrows rose. For the first two weeks, Avery and Donavan hadn’t tried. They were walking around like zombies, adjusting to the life of having a newborn. But for the last two weeks, Ted had one excuse after another. Donavan attempted to sound supportive. “What’s the matter? Anything we can do?”

  “Actually, yes. We’re at the hospital. Jess’s been sick. I know you guys are busy with Anya, and I’ve been trying to keep her stable due to a cold she had that wouldn’t break. Now, she’s caught pneumonia. This isn’t the first time.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Do you mind cheering on the kids for me this afternoon and watching Maggie till the end of the week? It would be a great help. She usually stays a couple of days, and despite all the barking she does, Jess doesn’t like to be at the hospital by herself.”

  “Definitely.”

  Avery signed, “What’s going on?” as Ted gave him instructions on how to get into the house to gather clothes for Maggie.

  “It was Ted.” Donavan said after he disconnected the call.

  “Well I hope Jess doesn’t rain check us like she did for the past two weekends.” Avery grumbled about the calls she had made to reach out to Jess ever since they had left the hospital. “I don’t get to be cranky and stressed. Last weekend, I literally burned half the roast, but luckily not the house down, because I fell asleep cooking. I can’t complain about achy breasts full of milk! Then Ted sends his love and says they can’t make it.”

  Donavan bit his bottom lip, prepared to let Avery continue venting if she wanted. But this time, he really couldn’t join in.

  “AC, she has pneumonia.”

  16

  Avery

  A Week Later . . .

  Just like that, smackdab in the middle of a really good “toss your head back and laugh from the pit of your stomach” moment, Avery felt like shit. This entire feel-good moment was another reason for Jessica to hate her. She was sitting cross legged on the floor in Junior’s bedroom sharing a carefree story with the two children that Jessica had helped raise.

  Do I even deserve to be so happy? No matter how many times, Avery wanted to complain about being past the point of exhaustion while reaching out to Jess, this took the cake. She had nothing in the world to whine about. She was living the dream with two beautiful, creative kids. Hell, they were well-mannered all because of the Carlsons.

  Junior, Maggie, and their baseball team had kicked off a great season so far. Now the kids had eaten, bathed, and were in their pajamas. They, along with Donavan, took turns adding to a story about a young magician on a quest to take over a train-traveling circus.

  “The magician promised to pull an alligator out of his top hat,” Maggie exclaimed, “But instead he—”

  She tossed the fluffy brown teddy bear with a tux and black hat toward Avery. Everyone turned to her, waiting for another off-the-wall predicament to place the magician in. Instead she said, “And that’s exactly what he did! The alligator turned around to chomp the magician—”

  “No way!” Junior shook his head.

  “But he’s the hero.” Maggie whined.

  Avery moved her hands into a parallel position and then slammed her forearms and hands together. “But . . . the alligator didn’t have any teeth! The magician learned a lesson. So, they all lived happily ever afte
r.”

  “Damn, you literally ruined the story.” Donavan smiled at her, though his eyes questioned her.

  She nodded that she was okay.

  “No!” both Junior and Maggie whined in unison.

  “Yesss!” Avery reached over to tickle both of their bellies.

  “Hey, we aren’t babies,” Maggie said.

  “Oh, I know. Junior says it all the time. Nonetheless, we have this understanding. As long as he’s not out and about, I can tickle him and kiss his cheeks.” She reached over and gave Maggie an exaggerated kiss on her cheek. The genuine happiness that surrounded her was now gone, yet she told herself to stay in the moment for a little while longer.

  Maggie and Donavan Junior started to get up, tumbling and moving around dramatically. Junior got into his bed, and Maggie followed them out and into the first guestroom nearest Junior’s.

  “You really okay?”

  Avery pulled Donavan into a hug. “I thought we’d head to bed, and I’d kneel before my king . . .”

  He stood before her, knuckles caressing along the satin of her jaw. “The kids are having fun, AC. You can’t feel guilty for loving your son or Maggie too for that matter.”

  Damn, he knows me too well! “I’m offering head, Donavan. Take it or leave it.”

  The tension in his buff chest deflated. Donavan grabbed the baby monitor from his jean pocket and his keys. “What kinda idiot turns down a grade-A mouth like that? How about we take this party to my truck? Different scenery would be nice, especially since next week we’ll be hosting families, and it would be awkward for them to walk up on us.”

  Like a giggling teenager, Avery nodded, and they went outside. Gone were thoughts of how she’d not only taken her son away from Jessica Carlson but also was living the dream life with the daughter Jess had.

  Donavan placed the baby monitor on the dash as they both sat in his truck.

  She glanced back over to Donavan, and he gave her a sexy pout that blossomed into liquid lust. She climbed over the center console and straddled him as he pushed his seat back. He was so big it felt like straddling a wild bull. Avery pressed her hands against the broadness of his chest. Beneath the ribbed thermal, she felt all steel.

  His lips parted just so, and his gaze stayed trained on hers, daring her to make any move she desired. Her thighs tensed around his waist, and he cocked a smile. Avery gyrated over his manhood.

  “You aren’t playing fair,” he groaned.

  “You started this game.”

  Her fingers caressed along his thermal until she’d woven her hand down to his belt. She bypassed it. Donavan hissed.

  “Fuck, AC,” he growled as she teased, and then went for his zipper instead.

  Avery stopped staring at his sexy lips. With her index finger touching his chiseled jaw, she nipped softly at it while reaching inside his pants. Donavan’s breath was a warm caress against her cheek. Her mouth curved, a teasing mere inch away from his. She clasped her hand around him and gripped his powerful shaft, gulping at how her fingers and thumb would never ever be able to connect, not even in a million years. Avery kissed him, her tongue working his as her hand rubbed up and down him.

  He was hard and smooth all at the same time. Up and down her hand moved meticulously. The extensive length of him was imbedded in her memory. Avery’s eyes closed as she imagined that instead of her hands, her pussy was clasping him tightly and that he was filling her to her brink and pulling out slowly—in and out.

  A faint drizzle began between her thighs as she worked him.

  Her breathing started to increase and matched his urgency. Avery licked her lips, biting down hard on the flesh of the bottom one. Her sex swelled. He felt good. His massive muscles begin to tense.

  “You about to come yet?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  He punched at his chest, giving off a manly vibe. Avery tasted his lips, chuckling to herself for a second. “You must’ve been at the brink.”

  “Maybe I was,” he said.

  “Oh, alright, let’s see how long you last with my lips.”

  His hand snaked along her throat, squeezing softly before her lips melted against his mouth in a searing kiss. Then he nodded for her to proceed.

  Avery scooted down between the seat and the steering wheel. Opening her jaws as wide as possible, she took in every inch of him. His muscular thighs relaxed as her lips met the base of his shaft. Her moans against his cockhead vibrated ever so softly from her tonsils.

  Craving the taste of his seed, Avery glided her mouth up and down him. The wetness from her tongue offered a slip-and-slide action. Damn, he was holding on, not giving in, but she could almost taste it. Working her tongue around the powerful, smoothness of his erection, Avery tightened the walls of her pussy. Those thick, heavy, wet lips quivered uncontrollably.

  Donavan’s fist went into her hair. He was beginning to tense as he pumped her up and down his cock. Now her tonsils were assaulted by the head of his dick. With each thrust he lodged down her throat, she felt her hand working its way to the outside of her pants, rubbing at the molten hot ache between her legs.

  He pulled her ponytail until her gaze went up to his lips. “I could fix that problem for you.”

  She whimpered.

  “I won’t cum until you’re ready, sweetheart . . .”

  “Donnie, no . . . we can’t . . .”

  His gaze darkened, and his thick chest puffed. “Damn, I know, babe.”

  Her lips flew back to his cock, and she continued to suck vigorously on him. Avery drunk him down to the last drop.

  She laid on the floor of his truck, giving a sigh of longing. Donavan zipped his pants up and then pulled her into his arms.

  He planted another kiss at the pulse of her wrist.

  “I wish I could do more for you.” Donavan nuzzled Avery’s neck.

  “Hey, at least you came.”

  “Give me about three minutes, and I can again.”

  “Hmmm, three minutes. Now, under any other circumstances I would love to see that.”

  “Honey, we have so much fucking to do.” He grabbed her hand, placing it over his jeans were his cock was already hardening. “See.”

  “I knew you were trouble when my eyes landed on you.” Avery shook her head, drowning in the good feel of him kissing her neck. Even though there was an ache still between her thighs, this warmth spread across her skin. Being with Donavan Hardy was an addiction that she’d never want to end.

  17

  Hunter

  He sat in his all-American room, on his all-American bed. The only item out of place was a quilted blue comforter tossed to the ground. His mom had made sure everything was as he had left it—even the stack of composition books his father had threatened to burn. Hunter McIntosh had always been studious and intelligent, but when his father had learned that within those books there weren’t just notes from his high school classes but in fact poetry, the shit had hit the fan.

  His gaze went straight ahead to where a knife had lodged into the wall. He realized that the walls weren’t the same color. No, they had been a lighter shade of blue. And the hole that had once been there, mocking him because he had failed at stabbing his own dad in the face was also gone. In its place was a watercolor of the big Montana sky. The stupid painting couldn’t have been a rush buy. Mom must’ve recalled the one great vacation that their family had when the LTG wasn’t on tour. How ironic that she’d covered up Hunter’s failure with a family success.

  His biggest failure. He’d tried to stab his father the day before heading off to the army.

  Hunter picked up the prosthetic and locked it into place. It was a common curtesy. Mom had bought the damn thing, and he had made a promise to Hawk the day he came home that he’d wear it.

  He’d also promised to stay awhile.

  Slowly, he stood, still uncomfortable wearing the prosthetic. He walked toward the bedroom door, then glanced back at the Montana Sky before stalking to it, grabbing the canvas by the edge, and tossing it
down to the ground. It went crashing. His thumb skimmed over the wall.

  There still wasn’t a hole. Mom had done a very good job covering up the telltale signs.

  “You’d murder your own father. I reckon, for the first time, I’ve seen my faggot of a son show his cards. I didn’t know you had it in ya,” the LTG had said after deflecting Hunter’s attempt to stab him. The knife had sunk into the stucco, and his arms were up and over his head in an immovable position. In seconds, his father had secured him. His father’s breath had assaulted him just as much as the taunting words.

  Hunter went down the stairs and into the sunroom where his mother was seated in a rocking chair, reading a magazine.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were up. What do you want to eat for breakfast, honey?” Her smile was perfect if he were ten instead of a grown man. But she was an enabler and content with babying Hunter McIntosh until he cared about his surroundings.

  “Doesn’t matter.” He started to continue down the hall with a shrug.

  “Hunter,” she said, closing the magazine and placing it down. “I know we’ve not always seen eye to eye. But I love you.”

  He stopped, staring straight ahead of him for a moment. Then he turned slowly. “I love you too, mo—”

  His eyes went to the magazine on the coffee table. He snatched it up. On the cover was a huge plantation of a home in sunny-light perfection. In a bubble, inset at the edge of the feature was a picture of a black woman and the man who didn’t deserve to live. “Where did you get this?”

  “Gem on the Block? I subscribe.”

  His hands shook as he turned the pages.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  Hunter continued to flip until he was on the inner spread where Donavan Hardy and a woman, who was being revered as a South Carolina socialite, were being commended on their accomplishments.

  “Hunter, talk to me. I don’t like—”

  His forearm slammed into his mother’s throat. He no longer saw her, nor did he need to hear her words.