“Dammit, woman.” I push up and do a quick rearrangement of my pants for comfort then scoop a satisfied-looking Layla off the bed. “You’re learning all my tricks, beating me at my own game.”
She giggles and buries her head into my neck. “So punish me.”
“Fuckin’ hell, now she’s asking to be punished, as if I wasn’t already about to explode.” I growl and move out of our room and down the hallway to the one room in the house that has always been locked . . . until Layla. I kick the door open, flick on the lights, and bring her to the worn leather couch.
The smell of maple, birch, and mahogany soothes my nerves, and the view of my woman, flushed with arousal and need, stirs my blood. I shut and lock the door then turn toward her. She leans back on the couch, her tiny shorts and tank top showing off a healthy portion of her swollen belly.
I move to stand at her feet and glare down at her. “Up.”
“Up?” She scopes the area, almost as if she’s wondering where else there is to make love if we’re not doing it on the couch.
I nod and offer her my hand, knowing that it’s not easy for her to push herself to standing. Once she’s up, I turn her around, gripping her hips firmly until she presses her ass against my dick.
Yeah, now she gets it. There are only a few positions that are comfortable for her at this stage in pregnancy, and luckily they’re all my favorite ones. Then again, every position with Layla is a favorite.
My hands run from her hips around to her belly. I rest my chin on her neck, and she tilts her head, inviting my lips. There’s a small strand of hair in the way, so I blow gently to gain access to her sweet skin. She shivers in my arms and my dick jumps.
After I spend a short time on her neck, her ass rubbing against me, her hands dip beneath my pants and she digs her fingernails into my ass. Need rides me hard, and I tug at the tender flesh of her neck with my teeth.
I suck deep and hard at her neck as if I could ingest her goodness and love. Like a starving man, I gorge myself and know that nothing the world can offer will ever satisfy me as she does.
Moving down her body, I drop to my knees behind her, pulling her shorts down to her ankles. I don’t have to ask; she freely steps out of them and I toss them aside.
At eye level with her ass, I groan at how fucking perfect she looks. The curve of her hips and round globes of her cheeks are fuller now, and my teeth tingle to sink into the soft flesh. Might have to keep her pregnant all the time.
I lick my lips before placing a kiss on her backside. She drops her head forward; her hands cover mine, which are on her hips.
“Knees on the couch.” My command is low and throaty, and she shivers in response as she does what I ask.
Kneeling on the couch, she leans forward to place her elbows on the back. The visual is almost too much to take, and I stare for several seconds to commit the view to memory.
“Hell, Mouse . . . never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life.”
She ducks her chin, and I know this must be hard for her. She’s mentioned how self-conscious she is with all the changes her body is going through. If only she could see herself through my eyes.
I run my hands up the front of her thighs and around to her ass, preparing her for my attention. “Arch your back, baby.”
She does, giving me all the invitation I need. I dip down and kiss her between her legs. Long and deep, I use my tongue to blaze a trail that I plan to soon follow with my dick.
She walks her knees wider and presses back into my lips. Every lap of my tongue, nip of my teeth, and slide of my mouth has her moaning and moving against me. Words fall from her lips in jumbled strings, and if I weren’t so lost in her taste, I might’ve grinned.
“Don’t stop . . .” Her hips roll as she works herself against my face.
Aw, fuck, my stomach tightens with the building orgasm that is sure to end all orgasms.
I pull back and she whimpers loud.
“Shhh, baby.” I stand and align myself with her. “I’ve got you.”
“Blake, hurry.” She leans her forehead on the back of the couch, pushing herself out to me.
Slowly, I nudge my way in, and my jaw falls loose at the overwhelming feeling, the awe-inspiring sight, and the sensory overload that is sliding inside Layla. No matter how many times I do it, it never ceases to rock me to the core. Her tiny body, so in tune with mine, nothing has ever felt like a coming together of mind, body, and soul like making love to her.
With intentional strokes, I glide in and out, absorbing the warmth of her delicate body. I bite my lip, and my legs tense to hold back and remain gentle while everything in me begs to power into her. To lose myself completely and claim her with an aggression that she’ll feel for days.
Her breathing gets heavy, puffs of air from her lips mixed with the tender whispers of my name. My chest swells with pride, love, and devotion to her, us, our family. Our future.
She rocks back into me, asking for more, letting me know that she can take it. I quicken my pace, but lock down the urge to go deeper. She moans and I know she’s close. I rock into her again and again then lean forward and kiss her shoulder once before pulling at her skin with my teeth.
Her head flies back in a flurry of blond hair, and she groans my name through open lips. With her head turned slightly, I push up and claim her mouth. Her tongue pushes past my teeth, and I suck it deep into my mouth, hoping she can taste herself. Leveraging against the couch, she rocks back into me.
I grin, small and quick, before pulling back and stilling her hips with my hands. “Easy.”
She drops her head heavy and stills to allow me to control the speed and depth. Starting slowly, I pull almost all the way out and then glide back in. She moans. I do it again, a little faster, and pick up the speed with every thrust.
“Don’t stop . . .” Her muscles tense and thrust forward through the gripping pressure, knowing she’s close.
She reaches back with one hand, and her nails dig into the flesh of my hips, spurring me on. I lean over, resting my hand on hers that grips the back of the couch, holding her in place as I roll my hips with a final thrust that tips her over the edge. She pants through the orgasm that shreds through her body while I hold her firmly to me.
I drop kisses along her shoulder until I feel her body relaxing. “You good, baby?”
“Mmmm . . .” Damn if there isn’t a smile in her moan.
I push up and start to move, satisfied that my woman is ready for more. With a tightening in my gut, I throw more weight behind my hips, again and again, then nuzzle my forehead into her back. I want to shout how much I love her, write her fucking poetry, and quote romantic sonnets, but instead I bite against the roar of my own release. My eyes pinch closed as the intensity washes over me, making me dizzy for a second before the feeling in my legs comes back.
“You okay?” I kiss her shoulder and move my hand from her hip to wrap around our baby in her belly. “If anything’s going to throw you into labor”—I pant, catching my breath—“it’s that orgasm.” I roll my forehead against her shoulder. “Damn, thought that thing would kill me.”
She giggles, soft but throaty, and the sound alone has me hardening again. “You always say that.”
“What?” I push up and massage her lower back. “I do not.”
She pushes up and leans back into my chest, keeping our connection. “Yeah . . . you do.”
“Well shit, Mouse, surprised I’m not dead by now.” I pull away and dip down to grab her panties and shorts. “Wanna clean up before you put these back on?”
“No, I’ll put them on just in case Axelle’s home. Good thing this room is sound proof.” Her eyes widen. “Can you imagine if I ran out of here naked from the waist down and she had friends with her out there?” Her hand covers her mouth and she laughs.
“She’ll be away at college before you know it, and then you can do all the streaking through the house that your little heart desires.” I tuck myself back inside my sleepin
g pants then drop to my knees. Layla puts a hand on my shoulder to steady herself while I help her into her panties and shorts.
I glance up and see our baby growing in her belly. My hands move to her on instinct, drawn to the child that any day now I’ll hold in my arms. I put my lips to Layla’s belly. “Hey, baby, listen . . . I have to leave town for a few hours tomorrow. You be good and don’t give your mama or Uncle Brae a hard time, okay?” I press my ear to her belly. “You’ll be good for Mom, but not your Uncle, huh?” I shrug and move my lips against her skin. “Good enough, but um . . . one more thing.” My throat gets tight as if I’m carrying a ten-pound weight inside it. “I love you. I’ll always love you. I’ll be the first and the last man who’ll love you ’til his dying breath. You hear that, baby? First and the last.”
Layla’s breath hitches in her throat, and I take the moment to close my eyes and settle into the feeling. Love. Unconditional love in all its fucking glory and all around me.
With that, I can face insurmountable obstacles, and a half-day visit with my parents tops that list.
Twelve
Blake
It’s eight fifteen a.m. when we pull up to the airport. I thought I’d be up all night with worry, but with our making love in The Room combined with Layla’s warm body pressed against mine, I slept like the dead.
Even now, as I hop out of the Rubicon at the terminal curbside, I feel pretty good about seeing my folks. I still don’t know what the hell’s going on, but my gut tells me it’s some form of fence mending that’ll give them access to their first grandchild.
Braeden passes me and stops short as he rounds the hood to take the driver’s seat. “I’m taking care of your girl.” He holds up a set of car keys. “You take care of mine.” He lifts an eyebrow over his Maverick-wanna-be sunglasses. “Do you remember where she is?”
I snag his keys and shove them in my pocket. “Long-term parking, spot J-32.”
“Yes, and I swear to God if you so much as rip one in my car I’ll know”—he rakes his sunglasses up on his head, eyes narrowed—“and I will hunt you down.”
“Idiot.” I shove past him and roll my eyes at his answering chuckle.
Since the Jeep is lifted, I asked Layla to stay in and told her I’d come around to say goodbye. I open the passenger-side door, and she’s pressing buttons on her phone, texting maybe. She shoves her phone into her purse and smiles a little bigger than I appreciate.
“Shit, baby, don’t look so broken up over my leaving.” I pull her into my arms for a long hug, and she wraps hers around me as best she can at the awkward angle.
“You said you’d be home by dinner.” She pulls back and rests her forehead against mine. “What did you expect? Tears?”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “You cry during cat litter commercials, Mouse. So yeah, I fuckin’ expected tears.”
She shakes her head, our foreheads still touching. “If you chase around a feather at the end of a stick, then I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Brae climbs into the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, bro. I’ll take good care of your woman.” His eyebrows pinch together in concentration. “Let me see if I remember your instructions.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, okay, yeah . . . lots of Vikings reruns, cuddles, and a sponge bath. In that order.” He winks.
I glare at him, but my lips curl into a smile. “Right, and I’ll make sure to wash your car with a baseball bat and battery acid before I leave.”
“Hm, oil massages are great for pregnant women I hear, and something about kegels, which I’m excited to learn more about.”
I burst into laughter, wondering if my brother did an Internet search on pregnancy to stockpile ammo to use against me. “I’m thinking I might need to do a little four-wheeling in a rock garden before I come home.”
“Boys, boys, no fighting around the pregnant lady. Laughing makes me pee.”
Brae’s eyes dart to her. “Eww.”
I shake my head. “Dude, pee is the least of the ewws when it comes to pregnancy.”
She smacks my arm, grinning. “Oh you love all my ewws. Now go; you have a plane to catch.”
“I love eww.”
She snorts with laughter, leans in, and presses her sweet lips to mine. “Go and hurry home.”
After a few more kisses and some pushing from Braeden for me to get my tongue outta my girl and get on the damn plane, I say goodbye and head off to board a flight that is taking me to who knows what back in Oceanside.
~*~
Layla
I wave goodbye to Blake through the Rubicon’s window. He stays with his eyes on the vehicle until we’re out of sight. My heart dips at watching him disappear and leaving him to face The General on his own.
“So what’s on the agenda today, boss?” Braeden turns and peeks at me from the corner of his eye, probably terrified to take his focus off the road after the slew of threats Blake tossed out.
“Hmm . . . it’s Saturday, so you can start with the laundry then the bathrooms. The toilets could use a good scrubbing. All the grout in the tile needs to be done with bleach and a toothbrush.” I turn my gaze out my side window to hide my smile.
“Damn, and here I thought I left the military base.” I turn just in time to see him salute me. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”
I salute back. “At ease, soldier.”
A comfortable silence stretches between us, and I fumble with my purse strap. “Ya know you don’t have to stay with me all day.” I grit my teeth, waiting for his lecture on the sanctity of a promise.
“Yeah, I know my brother’s being a little overprotective. We’ll play it by ear, okay? I need to be close just in case something happens, but I think as long as you check in and let me know you’re okay, I suppose I could let you shower alone.”
I swat his arm. “Ha, ha. Guess it’s back to cleaning then, Braeden-ella.”
“Fuck, where’s a fairy godmother when a guy needs one.”
“I believe there’s—” The shock of my phone’s vibration at my hip cuts off my clever quip.
Crap! Maybe pretending I don’t feel it is best. I told myself the next Unavailable call that comes in I’m going to answer, but I can’t in front of Braeden.
“You should get that.” He motions to my purse. “It could be Blake.”
Shit, shit, shit!
“Oh . . . yeah.” Ugh. I dig for my phone, pretending I can’t find it and hoping it’ll stop ringing before I do. It does, and I check the screen to make sure it wasn’t Blake.
Unavailable.
The single word sets my pulse rocketing through my veins.
This is the second time he’s called this morning. He doesn’t leave a voicemail, and I try to calm my nerves.
“Not Blake then?”
“No, just a friend from work. I’ll call her later.” My cheeks flame at my lie.
That never would’ve worked with anyone else. Everyone knows there are very few women who are employed by the UFL, and I would never be friends with the ones who are, with the exception of Eve.
“This is a great song.” I turn up “No Use for a Name,” not even paying attention to the song, just looking for the distraction. Music fills the space for the rest of the ride home while my phone continues to vibrate in my hand.
Enough is enough. This has to stop.
It’s time to face the past head on.
##
By the time we pull up to the condo, my phone has rung four different times, and now I’m getting the short buzzes that indicate text messages. Is he texting now too?
I don’t dare read them and vow to wait until I’m home behind a locked door before I steel my emotions to Trip’s attempts at contacting me. We park in Blake’s designated spot, and I see the Bronco is gone. Axelle must be out with a friend. I’ll have the condo to myself, except . . .
“Hey, Brae? Could you do me a favor?” I say before I’m out of the truck.
“Sure.” He turns his shoulders toward me, really listening
and aiming to please.
“I’m having this intense craving for Rice Krispie treats, but I don’t have the stuff to make them.”
“You want me to hit the store and grab the shit you need to make ’em?”
“If you don’t mind.” And even if you do, yes please.
“You gonna make some for me too?” He gazes down at me through slits in his eyes.
“Fine, you can have one.” I force a smile, but my phone buzzes again and I need to handle this situation before my bravery wears off. I press my hand to my lower belly. “Oh, boy. I gotta pee bad!”
“Whoa . . .” He recoils. “TMI. Tell me what you need and skedaddle before you soil Blake’s leather seats.”
“Rice Krispies, marshmallows, and butter!” I wave and hop down from the Rubicon, dancing for a minute just for show before I race off as fast as my Weeble Wobbles body will carry me.
I hear the engine fire up and pull away, so I grab my phone while walking. Five new text messages?
Picking up my pace, I scurry inside the house, hurry to my bedroom, and shut and lock the door.
First, I scroll through Unavailable’s messages.
Layla, please pick up the phone. I just want to talk to you.
Then the next.
It’ll only take a minute, I swear.
And the next.
I understand why you don’t want to talk to me, but you don’t know the whole story.
And again . . .
If you’d just give me a chance to explain.
And finally.
Please answer.
My phone vibrates, and I answer it before the caller ID even shows up. Not that it matters. I know who it is. “Hello?”
“Oh . . . uh, Layla?”
“What do you want, Trip?”
A beat of silence. “Look, I know when we last spoke. . . ”
He’s remembering his conversation with Eve, but I don’t correct him.
“. . . was a shock to you and I’d hoped you would’ve remembered.”
“I remember nothing. Nothing because I was drugged the night I was gang raped and ended up pregnant with a baby no one would fucking claim, Trip! So no, I don’t fucking remember anything.” Acid churns in my stomach, and my head gets light with the anger of eighteen years.
A Father's Fight Page 9
