by Mj Fields
“So, why do you have on the shirt?”
“Well, because,” I answer, trying to think of a way to make this conversation child-friendly.
“To piss Momma Car—”
“Mouth, kiddo,” I warn, even though I want to laugh at the fact she knows exactly why I’m wearing this shirt.
She groans dramatically. “I didn’t swear.”
“Rephrase,” I tell her just like I always do when she gets too sassy, which is normally after a family dinner with my brothers.
“You’re trying to make her mad,” she says in a baby voice, driving home her point, which I would applaud, but she’s my kid, so I don’t, even though it’s funny as hell. “Which is childish.” This time she uses her normal voice.
“When did you get so smart?” I ask, and that gains me a big grin.
Mush. The kid makes me soft.
“I’ve always been smart.”
“Good, then you run for president someday and I’ll vote for you.”
“No way.” She smiles even bigger. “Politics suck.”
“Bella …” I shake my head.
“It does, Dad. Kids at school are fighting over who sucks worse, and—”
“Bell, easy on the suck, okay?” I interrupt.
“Fine, but it’s stupid. My friends aren’t even talking to each other because they’re picking a president the other doesn’t like.” She sits up and throws her hands in the air. “They can’t even vote! What is wrong with them?”
“That’s why you aren’t supposed to discuss politics or religion in public. Too many people get carried away.”
She points toward my shirt. “Like you?”
I grab her hand and pretend I’m going to bite it. She laughs as she yanks it away.
“We aren’t arguing because she’s voting for Hillary. We’re arguing because we agreed not to make a big deal out of the election.”
“Momma Carly agreed not to make a big deal out of a woman running for president?” She laughs.
“Right.” I laugh back as she lies back down.
“Why don’t you want a woman president, Daddy?”
And … I get Daddy from my little Bell. That’s a fucking win tonight.
“It’s not about her being a woman, Bell. I just don’t agree with her.”
“But you agree with Trump?” she asks, looking at me almost like Kiki did when she saw the shirt. “He wants to build a wall around our country.”
“Don’t listen to the talk, Bella. Listen to facts. He wants to keep this country safe.” Knowing that’s far above her head, I explain in kid terms. “We have a security system here at home. Not because I don’t want visitors, but I don’t want anyone coming in here who might have bad intentions. So, if this home was our country and I was the president, that would be my way of building a wall. And Bell, if this family were in trouble, you bet your … butt I would build a wall and stand on it with a missile launcher.”
“You’d kill people?” she says on a gasp.
“I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.”
“Like at school with the new metal detectors we walk through.” She nods.
“Absolutely. And at Steel, too.”
I leave out that Cyrus installed all the systems at home, school, and Steel. And yes, we donated the equipment to five area schools.
“Hillary won’t keep us safe?”
Again, TMI for kid ears. I won’t tell her about all the shit she has done any more than I would tell her Trump has fucked up, too. I will just give her the truth.
“He’s the candidate I choose to support. His agenda best matches what I want for our country.”
“Then how come Carly …?” She stops then nods. “Mimi calls her every day. They talk about the election and how happy they are that a woman may soon be in office.”
Fuck, I think then nod. “Your grandma Katherine would have been the same as Mimi. Well, maybe not the same, but as excited.”
“Bet Carly misses her,” she whispers.
“Yeah, little Bell, I bet she does.”
Bella yawns then smiles. “I’d vote for Trump, too, Daddy.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yep, but Kiki wouldn’t.”
“No, I doubt she would.”
Bella reaches over and takes my hand. “Read me a book?”
“Yeah, Bella, of course.”
When I go into our room, Carly is sitting on the bed, waiting for me. She takes in a deep breath then yawns.
My baby is tired.
“I know what you are going to say, and I can assure you I didn’t try to brainwash Katherine,” she says, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.
I shrug, pushing my pajama pants off as I climb into bed.
I watch as her eyes dart from my cock to my eyes, and then right back down to my cock.
She licks her lips as I lie down, link my hands behind my neck, and watch her getting all hot for the prince.
“I’m pissed at you about the sign, but the shirt, Jase? Take that stupid thing off.” She points at my shirt while looking at my cock.
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“Not happening, baby. I’m gonna wear this shirt until election day.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No crazier than you are for making Kiki afraid of a duck.”
“That was Mimi,” she says then covers her mouth.
That crazy lady, I don’t doubt it.
“What did she say to her, Carly?”
“This is stupid, Jase. Just get rid of the shirt,” she grumbles as she gets into bed, making sure there is fifty feet between us.
“No can do.”
“I’ll burn it,” she grumbles, pulling the covers up and nearly covering her eyes.
I chuckle. “I’ll burn your sign.”
She sighs and looks at me. “You’re not mad.”
“No, I’m mad, but again, the girls don’t need to be in the middle of a pissing match, so we are just gonna make a game out of this.” I pause when her eyes widen. “When Trump wins, you have to call me The Jase at least every day for a week … and when I’m grabbing that pussy.”
“That’s vulgar.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“You’ve been eye-fucking my cock, and that’s vulgar?”
“Well, you have that thing all …” She rolls to her side and groans. “Put it away.”
“Where would you like me to put it, Carly?” I ask, and I swear her back arches. “Inside that sweet little cun—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Pussy?”
“Asshole.”
“Perfect!” I laugh and clap my hands. “When Trump wins, you have to do what I said—call me The Jase and beg me to stick it in your ass.”
“I think not,” she says, sitting up and glaring at me.
“So, you admit he’s gonna win?”
Her face contorts in all sorts of angry yet adorable expressions.
“That’s what I thought,” I say smugly.
“He won’t win. Not every American is a … Neanderthal like you!”
I stick my hand out. “Then let’s shake on it.”
“Oh no, not until you agree to …” She pauses, scratching her head in thought. I honestly can’t think of what the hell she’s going to come up with that I would possibly say no to, since I know Americans want their country safe and are just as sure Trump is going to win.
“You have to yell ‘all hail Hillary’ when her name is mentioned on the news,” she says all badass like.
I stick my hand out to agree as I chuckle inside.
“And you have to call me ‘The Hillary’ as I use a vibrator to get myself off.”
If her face wasn’t changing fifty shades of red while trying to look like a badass, I may have been a little annoyed at her suggestion to use a fucking plastic dick when mine’s not been in her for a week, but this, this is way too much fun.
“Deal.” I stretch out my hand.
Her eyes grow huge. She lo
oks shocked.
“Deal,” she says as she shakes my hand. “It’s not like the entire country won’t be taking it in the butt if that man wins. I may as well, too.”
“It. Is. On.” When I wink at her, she fucking laughs.
Girl Power
Carly
* * *
Jase and the girls are outside playing in the leaf pile while I am watching out the window as I have my daily conversation with Mimi.
“He wore what?” Mimi gasps, and I laugh.
“A tee shirt with Donald Trump on it.”
“Why you married that man is beyond me,” she grumbles.
“He loves me. I love him,” I answer as I watch Jase throw Kiki in the air like he’s going to drop her in the leaf pile. He doesn’t drop her. He falls back into them, laughing as he catches her. She is all smiles.
“Well, I wouldn’t stand for that,” she huffs.
“Mimi, he’s amazing in every other way. I mean, he’s … amazing.”
“He’s one of those alpha hotheads we all read about but would never marry, Carly. I blame us for your taste in men. We should have never let you join that book club at such an impressionable age.”
I can’t help smiling inside and out. “Mom liked him.”
“God, I know,” she groans.
“You’d like him if you’d give him a chance and look beyond his beliefs.”
“You think I don’t like him?” Mimi asks.
“Well, you don’t seem to be that big a fan.”
“Oh, Carly, it’s the election. It makes me—”
“Crazy?” I laugh.
“Yes! It’s insane to think that anyone would vote for that … that … wretched … creature.”
“I don’t like him, either, but I do think everyone deserves to vote for who they want.” I open the oven and put the homemade pizza inside. “I wanted a nice blackened chicken salad for lunch; Jase and the girls wanted pizza. Majority rules.”
“Will you stop making so much sense and let me be—”
“Crazy?”
“Yes …” she croons.
“Go ahead; vent away.” I laugh, too.
Like every Saturday, it’s crazy busy. The girls love having both Jase and I together. It’s not like we aren’t together every night, but we are coming off Bella’s soccer schedule and Jase’s softball league. We have downtime, and it’s been wonderful.
It’s the end of the night, and we are watching Mulan.
Yes, I may have prompted Kiki to choose it. And yes, I am sure Bella and Jase know this. However, it’s a beautiful movie about a strong woman who falls for a warrior, a man who loves family and history … a prince.
I wake to Jase picking me up off the couch.
“Where are the girls?” I ask, confused from sleep.
“They’re in bed,” he answers, starting up the stairs.
“I can walk,” I say, looking up at him.
“I got you.” He smirks then winks.
I want to enjoy this moment—my husband carrying me to bed—but he’s smug and sexy. No, annoying. Gaw, I don’t know what he is.
“What?” he asks as he kicks open the door to our bedroom.
“It. Is. On,” I say in a tone that is much like Bell’s when she is being sassy.
He smiles and kisses my head. “Not until election day.”
If I wasn’t so tired, I would push a little bit, but I’m exhausted.
After laying me down on the bed, he stands back and bites his bottom lip. Then slowly, one by one, he begins unbuttoning his shirt.
I want to clap and smile … until I see the shirt under it.
I roll my eyes, and then roll to my side.
Jase chuckles from behind me.
Lucky She’s Hot
Jase
* * *
Sitting at my desk on Monday morning, I can’t help thinking about the weekend, my kids, my wife, my life.
It’s fucking beautiful.
Twelve years ago, when I found out I would be a father, I was terrified, but I didn’t run away. I ran toward the cause of my fear. Eighteen years old, and I was going to be a dad. Eighteen years old, and I was going to make sure I took care of my girl, my baby, and I knew damn well I would. I wanted to.
I had a supportive family, and not shit in the bank, but it didn’t matter. I would figure it out, make it work, and be the man Charlie deserved. My child would be proud to call me Dad.
Then she died giving birth, and her family tore mine apart, took Bell, took everything, and crushed us all.
I sure as fuck didn’t do a damn thing right back then.
Then, the minute I saw Carly, I felt … something I had never felt before.
She was a forbidden fruit. My best friend Abe’s virgin cousin. A fucking smart, educated chick. A … liberal.
None of it meant shit to me. I had to have her. I planned out how to make it happen and then … Then I fell into hell, which I later found out was love, and had to step back. I was more afraid of her than of Charlie’s family, of a baby.
I fucking hurt her and myself, because of fear, because of … love.
When I couldn’t do a damn thing to forget, to move on and walk the fuck away, out of fear of ruining her like I did Charlie, I went hard after her, and then something mind blowing happened. She came just as hard after me and my little Bell.
Done, totally fucking done.
Love.
A love like that can’t be forgotten, shaken, drank, or fucked away. It’s like a tattoo—permanent and forever a part of you. It’s part of your soul. A part so tightly twisted there is no way to loosen or untangle it. It just … is. And you can’t live without it. It’s more important than food, water, fucking oxygen, and for damn sure more important than an election.
I look up when my door opens and in walks my baby.
“Good morning,” I say, leaning back in my chair, looking her up and down from her navy blue peep-toe shoes, to the sexy, tailored navy suit that her tits are dying to pop out of, to her black-framed nerd girl glasses that make me hot. Then my gaze stops at her head where her blonde hair is perfectly pinned in a French twist that I want to pull on so her hair falls loosely around her face.
“Good—”
“You look fucking hot, baby,” I interrupt.
She looks behind her like someone may have heard me. Then she closes the door and gives me a sexy smile as she walks over to me slowly.
I want to laugh. She’s a fucking trip. She thinks she has to try to be sexy for me? She doesn’t. She just is.
She’s at the end of my desk, hands on the edge as she leans in slowly. “You look amazing. Finally, that shirt is gone.” She sighs then runs her tongue across her lower lip.
Half-chub …
I push myself back in my chair, stand, and walk over beside her, sitting on the edge of my desk. Then I take her hand and pull her over between my legs. “Didn’t get a kiss this morning.”
“Well,” she says, loosening my tie, “that shirt is a total turn off. Maybe now I can give you … more than a kiss.”
I bite my lower lip to stop the damn grin from spreading across my face. “What did you have in mind, Mrs. Steel?”
“Maybe I should just show you,” she says in a husky, I-need-you voice.
As she leans in closer, I smell a hint of the perfume she couldn’t wear because it was making her “morning sickness” worse.
She kisses my neck as she unbuttons my shirt, lower and lower. Then she kisses up to my lips.
I open up, and her tongue slips inside … gently. I rub my piercing up and down her tongue as she moans into my mouth. Her body is tightly up against me, all belly and tits.
“Fuck,” I groan as I try to get closer. Then … “Fuck it.”
I hike up her skirt, grab her ass, and lift her up so she is straddling me. Don’t get me wrong; I am a man on top, but because of the … situation, Carly gets this or bent over. And right now, I want to tongue-fuck my wife’s mouth. Therefore, she is st
raddling me, looking like she feels all powerful. And yeah, she’s not one hundred percent comfortable in this position, but I sure am.
She tugs at my tie then lifts it up, pulling it over my head.
I go in for her tits. “Fucking missed these things, baby.”
I start to lean in to suck on her when she gasps.
I look up to find her scowling.
“What?”
“What …?” she groans, tapping my chest hard. “What is this?”
Shit.
“A Trump shirt, of course,” I say, reaching for her tits. She slaps my hand away. “Oh, come on.” I laugh.
“If I wasn’t so …” She pauses.
“Wet and wanting my cock?”
She has no time to reply. There is a knock on the door, and then the locked handle jiggles.
“Open the damn door,” Cyrus growls.
“Go away,” I growl back.
Carly huffs, raising her eyebrows as she slides off my lap.
Fixing her skirt and shirt, she then walks to the door as I am buttoning my shirt and trying to fix my fucking tie.
She starts to open the door.
“Carly, hold up. My dick’s hard and—”
“Oh well,” she says in a snippy tone as she flings the door open, giving me a pisspot smirk.
“Baby, I should spank that ass,” I whisper harshly as I grab my leather-bound appointment book and place it over my hard-on before scooting around the desk.
Snowmen
Carly
I walk into the lab … and straight to the bathroom.
Son of a … wonderful woman.
I look in the mirror where my reflection stares back at me, taunting me. I am flushed, and my shirt is not buttoned properly.
I’m a hot mess.
Jase … Oh, I ought to …
Well, I should not want to …
God, I love him.
I love him and the way he makes me feel. I love him and the fact that he doesn’t laugh at me—he laughs with me. I love the way he is overprotective and possessive. I love the way he is with our children. I love him and our “debates” that end with me and him and … hot sex.
