Heart Signs

by Cari Quinn

  “Give it to me. All you’ve got.” Those seeking fingers between their bodies circled faster. Frantic now. “God, Sam.”

  He looked down at his cock slick with her juice, powering in and out of her sweet pussy. And his control snapped.

  Her name left his mouth in a shout and he reared back, continuing his strokes while his hot spurts filled her. Spilling out around his length, dripping down into the crack of her ass. She shook under his onslaught, her hand stilling as she hurtled over her own peak, so hard that he swore his spine twisted from the force of her spasms.

  He fell over her, pulling up only when she let out a protest. “Sorry.”

  She reached down to palm his ass, settling him over her in a way they could both live with while they caught their breath. “I always thought size was a myth,” she said after a moment. “But I’ve realized something.”

  It was hard not to grin when he felt as if he’d been carved open and inlaid with pure gold. “What’s that?”

  “It might not be necessary but it sure is nice.”

  Her dreamy tone made him laugh. He kissed her jaw, leaving his lips there while he waited for his heartbeat to level. It had to happen eventually, right?

  Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville filled the room and she started to sing in a loud, clear voice, eliciting a whole new round of laughter. “You sound drunk.”

  “Sex-drunk. A little-known phenomenon.”

  He leaned up to study her slumberous face. “It looks good on you.” He kissed his way down her neck and between her breasts, sliding down to cover her ribs and the hollows on either side of her navel. He looked up when he arrived between her thighs, noting with satisfaction the lust already filtering back into her hazy expression. “So does this,” he murmured, sifting through her sodden curls.

  She rose on her elbows, watching him. “You like seeing your cum spilling out of me, huh?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He lowered his head and arrowed his tongue into her drenched folds, closing his eyes at her soft cry. “Like tasting it too,” he whispered against her, dragging his mouth up and down her slit while he drank down their mingled releases. The sweetness of her pussy and the salt from his own remnants burst over his tongue, then he crawled back up to kiss her, sliding inside her mouth so she could experience it too.

  She made that purring sound he loved before easing back and smacking her lips. “You’re a bad boy, Mr. Miller. I think I like it.”

  “Good.” Her laughter washed over him as he rolled her on top of him. “Because, Ms. Fowler, you’re about to see firsthand just how bad I get.”

  * * * * *

  Later, much later, after a storm of lovemaking—and fucking, she was delighted to note—Rory stumbled up from the blanket and down the hall to the bathroom. The CD changer had long ago gone silent and the fire had burned down to nothing but not before they’d toasted marshmallows on real wooden sticks and fed them to each other.

  She stopped outside the closed bathroom door and hugged herself. The night had been a dream and it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

  She reached down to open the door just as furious scratching sounded from the other side. Pulling it open, she let out a yelp as a ball of fur streaked by her ankle.

  “What?” Sam said, hurrying down the hall with the blanket hastily thrown around his semi-sized hips. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think it was the cat.”

  “Oh shit. Junior. I meant to let him out once we’d…but then it kept going and going and…” She giggled at his tormented expression. “It’s not funny.”

  “Yes it is.” She pointed inside the bathroom. “He got revenge on your toilet paper.”

  Sam craned his neck around the door and groaned at the strips of white hanging from every surface. “He’s a baby. I thought he’d sleep for a while. I left him his bed and litter box and food.” He glanced down at the empty dish. “Maybe not enough food.”

  “He could’ve come out with us, silly. I love cats.” She leaned against his chest and angled up to kiss his chin. “Plus I’ve been wanting to meet him.”

  “Uh uh, he’s a voyeur. He always lurks around when I’m on the phone with you. No way he’s seeing my woman naked.”

  The glow from his words seemed to fan out from her heart to every one of her cells. Now she had a new thing to chant in her head. My woman. God. Had anything ever made her happier?

  Rory glanced down as fur brushed against her calf and let out a laugh. “Too late. The voyeur’s struck again.”

  Sure enough, Junior plunked down on his behind and stared up at them. Sam made a show of covering her breasts with his hands and tugging her back toward the bedroom, leaving Junior to follow, tail held high.

  “Oh yeah. The bed.” She glanced over her shoulder and let out a war whoop at the size of his new king-size special. “We never even tried it out yet.” She wrenched away from Sam and took a flying leap, landing dead center. She flung out her arms and sighed contentedly. “So bouncy.”

  “Bouncy is good,” Sam agreed, flopping down beside her. A moment later the cat pranced across Sam’s belly on his way over to Rory, whom he processed to sniff before curling up next to her side. “See what I mean?”

  “I certainly do.” She cuddled against Sam and wiggled her nose between his ear and his neck, enjoying his little catch of breath as she reached down to palm his cock. “We’ll just have to be sneaky.”

  “I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he said somberly, arching into her strokes while pretending to zip his lips.

  Later, Rory snuggled against Sam’s chest, her feet under the purring lump that was Junior. She was on the verge of dozing off when his voice stirred her. “Ror,” he murmured, reminding her of the love letter she’d written that he hadn’t read yet. Already part of it had come true, like a prophecy. Here they were, tangled together in the dark, and she could hear his heartbeat as clearly as the sleet pelting the windows.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not the only one who fell.” He cleared his throat when she glanced up at him quizzically. “In love, I mean. It took me longer but I’m right there with you.” His mouth curved. “God, I’m so there.”

  She grinned and let her head fall back to his chest. “It’s all happened so fast. Normally I don’t trust things that I can’t predict. But this time it’s funny.”

  “What’s funny?”

  The little hitch of worry in his voice made her grin spread. “It’s funny how much I trust in you and me. We’re right. I can feel it.”

  He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth in that old-fashioned, gentlemanly way he had that always sucked the last coherent thought from her head. “We’re both overdue for some right.” He nipped her skin then soothed the bite with his tongue. “And, yeah, it feels damn good.”

  “G’night, Sam,” she whispered, eager to fall asleep for the first time with his breath ruffling her cheek.

  “G’night, Ror.” His arm circled her waist. “Love you. Just trying it out,” he added when she chuckled.

  “Love you too,” she echoed. “Same reason.”

  “Wow, I actually said something out loud instead of writing it down.” He sounded awestruck.

  “Me too. Though I wrote you a letter too. A ridiculously mushy one.”

  “Yeah?” There was no denying the pleasure in his voice. “I can’t wait to read it. Especially since I have one for you too.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It’s not as flashy as a billboard but—”

  “I don’t need a billboard.” She kissed his shoulder and inhaled his scent. A faint hint of sweat, soap, motor oil. Sam. “Just need you.”

  “Now that that’s squared away…good night for real.”

  She waited until his breaths became soft and even then glanced up to see if Junior had noticed the most important moment of her life. Sure enough, bright-gold eyes glowed at her in the dark.

  She settled back into Sam’s embrace and grinned. At least she had a witness.


  Epilogue

  Dear Unnamed Baby,

  Hi, it’s your dad. You’re only twenty-four weeks old now and still in your mom’s belly but I wanted you to have this later, when you were older. I would’ve written sooner but I was scared you wouldn’t stick around. Your mom—who’s much, much smarter than me—told me you would. That there was no way you’d come out before your prescribed nine months and only to the sound of her blood-curdling screams (her words, not mine.) She’s not really looking forward to delivery. I am. I can’t wait. I bet you’re going to have dark hair and gray eyes just like your mom. And when we give you more brothers and sisters down the road, God willing, you’ll be the best big sister ever.

  Your mom’s going to cry when she sees you, I just know it. She’s a much bigger softie than she’ll admit to. Right now she’s yelling about the game, pretending to be all excited because the Patriots are winning. I know it’s really because Brady keeps charging across the field.

  Uh oh. Now she’s yelling at me. She thinks I’m writing bills. I’ll save this and show it to her later and she’ll scrunch her face all up then wave it off like she doesn’t care. And when she doesn’t think I’m looking, she’ll get all misty.

  I’ll talk to you soon. Until then, do a favor for your dad, okay? Stay right where you’re supposed to. Even if your mom jumps around like a complete maniac screaming, “Hell, yeah, now that’s a fucking touchdown!”

  Love,

  Dad

  Summer in full bloom. Lots of things were blooming. Some expected, some not. The bucket of mums they’d picked out from the florist had begun to sprout, though the actual flowers wouldn’t show their colors for a few weeks.

  Their other sprout would take a while to grow yet.

  “I gotta go to work,” Rory said from behind him.

  “So stop wallpapering,” Sam said, amused as always by her impatient huff of breath. “We’ll do it tonight.”

  “Just gotta finish this section.”

  Sam fought a smile as he turned away from the wide picture window. She stood near the doorway of the adjoining room. Hands flat on the wall, gaze intent. A tape measure somehow hooked from the vee of her maternity top.

  Their place would have the most cheerful design ever, assuming Rory could ever stop changing her mind about the color of the darn wallpaper. First it had been mint green. Then yellow. The latest acquisition was sunset orange with tiny white flowers.

  Orange, green, he didn’t care. He already had been given the world. Everything else was just details.

  “You know, we’d get this done a lot faster if you helped and stopped standing around looking so—” A couple months ago, when she’d been in what she called her “hormonally horny” phase, she would’ve ended that statement with something dirty. Now she just scowled.

  His smile broadened. “And get in the way of your redecorating dreams? Not a chance.”

  The big airy loft in downtown Haven hadn’t been either of their first choices, but the price was right. Billy had purchased the building to open a bike shop on the first floor and he’d offered them the second level for a great rate.

  Home rarely seemed to end up looking like a person expected, Sam mused as he crossed the room to slip his arms around Rory’s waist. She grumbled a little, as she was wont to do before ten a.m., but he didn’t miss her contented sigh.

  Three years had passed since they’d bumped fenders. In that time, they’d traveled all over the States, usually a new trip every few months to coincide with the car shows Sam wrote off as work. They’d laughed their asses off in Vegas when she won a thousand dollars her first time playing Blackjack. Stumbled over the rocky shore along the Atlantic in Massachusetts when he’d decided he wanted to find her authentic sea glass. Poked tentative hands through fence slats in Kentucky to stroke horses who looked every bit as awed at the sight of them as they were over the horses.

  None of those adventures could swish a pony’s tail at the one stretching before them now. In a little over two months, their lives would change again.

  “You know, we could hire someone to do this,” he murmured against her hair. She’d grown it longer and the ends just brushed her shoulders. “Just like we could run away and—”

  She turned in his arms, more than a little awkwardly, and tucked her tape measure in her bra. “Uh uh. You know my answer to that.”

  “I do. Or I don’t, since you won’t.” He tipped his forehead to hers and smiled into her eyes. They’d been engaged for over a year and Rory didn’t seem to be in any hurry to check a new box on her tax return. Married or unmarried, they were in love. Their child would have his last name. And hers. So it didn’t matter.

  Much.

  “It’s a timing thing, big guy.”

  “So you say. Since going with the flow has brought us here, I can’t fault your methods.”

  “Exactly. I’m all about the spontaneous.”

  “Which means we’re gonna be living in sin forever.”

  She cocked her head, a hank of her honey-brown hair—she’d stopped dyeing it a while ago—falling into her face. “To do that, you gotta actually, you know, sin. Early and often.”

  “That ball’s in your court.”

  “No, the ball’s right here.” She grinned and cupped her stomach. “Go to work,” she said, giving him a light kiss that made him long for more. She always made him long. Sweetly, as she had from the beginning.

  He laid his hands over hers and gave her fingers a squeeze. Then he nodded and whistled to Junior, who apparently thought he was a dog and trotted out for a treat.

  “See you tonight,” he called, setting off once he’d fed the cats, plural. If there were snacks, Snowdrop wasn’t about to be denied.

  “See you,” she called back. She’d be late for sure. Good thing she worked for family.

  He worked straight through the morning, busy with several new customers. He’d gotten a great deal on advertising space—he was again renting what he considered “his” billboard—and traffic into the shop was nonstop. He barely managed to escape to go see Rory for lunch as he usually did.

  Halfway there, his cell rang. “Hey, what’s up?” he said, hoping she didn’t hear the worry he wasn’t good at hiding. She rarely called during the day. What if—

  No. There were only good what-ifs in their world now.

  “I need you to go pick up something.”

  A spear of panic shot into his throat. “What’s wrong?”

  “I want ice cream.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “That blackberry kind from Triple Scoop. What’s it called?”

  “Black Thunder. I’ll get you some after work.” He let out a long breath and shifted the phone to his other hand. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Absolutely. But I have to have that ice cream. Can you get me a quart? You can get two spoons,” she added when he didn’t reply.

  “I’d have to go home and get my car.“

  “It’s a craving. I need it, Sam.”

  He suppressed a sigh and altered his route. She’d said the magic word. When it came to cravings, there was no saying no. “Gimme half an hour.”

  “Thank you!” Her delighted squeal seemed a little much, but he never questioned a pregnant woman’s desire for dairy products. “Sam?”

  On the verge of clicking off, he frowned. “Yeah?”

  “It’s such a pretty day. Maybe you should bring your camera.”

  “Why? Want a picture of the giant inflatable cone on top of Triple Scoop?”

  Laughing, she hung up.

  Maybe she wanted to go for a walk along the harbor near her work. Hard to say with her. But he brought his camera just the same.

  Half an hour later, he’d paid for her quart of ice cream and was on his way to JD Signage. Instead of taking the back roads, he decided to make the trip on the highway since she was right, it was a beautiful day. Might as well check out his incredible logo.

  Except there was a bright blue billboard where his was supposed to
be. What the fuck? He’d paid for the whole quarter, just as he was supposed to. His billboard’s background wasn’t blue. It was green, to match the new sign he’d gotten for the front of his shop.

  Idling at the entrance to the highway, he flipped out his phone and punched the first speed dial. Who the hell had hijacked his sign? It was supposed to say Sam’s Classics, not Marry Me, Sam.

  He slammed the car into Park just as Rory’s cheery voice chirped in his ear. “Got my ice cream?”

  “I—what—how?”

  “You drive to Triple Scoop, ask for a quart of Black Thunder, give them your money.”

  “I have the ice cream. But—what—” Horns sounded behind him and he yelled out the window something he might’ve felt bad about had he been aware of what was coming out of his mouth. “Why are you proposing to me? How can you, when I proposed first?”

  “It’s not a proposal so much as a suggestion. Since we’re already engaged and all. You busy this Friday?”

  More horns sounded. This time he didn’t bother speaking, just held up his left hand. He’d feel even worse about it later. “We’re going to Vegas.“

  As the realization dawned, he started to laugh. Jesus, was he the biggest dummy on earth or what?

  “Exactly right. And we’re going to get hitched and start our life of legal sinning. So you might want to get that ice cream back here now, since we have a history of making stuff melt.”

  “That wasn’t just a ruse to get me over to the billboard?”

  “Hell no. We both know you go scope it out every day. And don’t worry, your shop sign will be back up by the close of business. So take your picture while you can.”

  He glanced up once more at the billboard, his throat so tight words were practically an impossibility. But he tried anyway. “Rory—”

  “I know.” Somehow he heard her swallow. “Me too. Us too,” she corrected, making him smile even when he couldn’t speak.

  Just before she clicked off, his sentimental soon-to-be-wife uttered her final words of love. “Now bring me my ice cream!”