by Kelli Walker
“Did you ever want kids?” she asked.
Her eyes panned up to mine as our food was set in front of us. Pints of beer and the smell of hot buffalo wings singed my nostrils, but I was no longer paying attention to it. My eyes were lost in Isabelle’s green stare as memories assaulted my mind.
“At one point in time, yes. But I kept putting it off because of my career,” I said.
“Do you ever think you’ll have children?”
“I’m honestly not sure.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes were gentle. Her touch, kind. I brought her hand to my lips to kiss again before I released her touch. I picked up my beer and took a few deep gulps, trying to figure out how best to answer her question.
“I’m sorry if I hit a nerve.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s a valid question. I mean, a date is so we can get to know one another better.”
“It is. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I promise you, Isabelle, you could never do that. The reason why I’m not sure is because the first time around, I didn’t consider myself the kind of man to get married. I didn’t have the type of career that allowed it. I was gone all the time and in the office until late hours. I figured, what woman would want to put up with that?”
“Then Lisa came along,” she said.
“Yep. And she knocked me right off my feet. Took my life in stride with her own. I didn’t see myself ever getting married, much less having kids. But with her I saw all of that. So, that’s why I’m not sure if I ever will. I saw it for myself once, so I guess I could again. It’s all about the woman. Whether or not I could see myself having children with that specific woman. I don’t want to have children with just anyone. I think that gets a lot of people into trouble.”
“I agree. I think people go on dates clamoring to find ‘the one’ and wanting to get married and wanting to have kids by a specific age that they fail to see the importance of everything else that transpires. The quality of the person and whether those person’s faults are something they can compromise with and work through. Goals are good to have, but sometimes they can be blinding.”
“Exactly. A goal is good to have and a dream is nice to hold onto, but it can’t be the driving force behind something someone does. Which isn’t what people like to talk about today. Gurus and self-help specialists-- even psychiatrists-- all talk about having a specific goal people charge towards. But if it’s the only thing someone focuses on-”
“Then it’s like putting blinders on a drunk horse.”
“What?” I asked with a chuckle.
“It’s like putting blinders on a drunk horse,” she said. “You know, the person’s wobbling towards a goal no matter what’s hitting them from all sides trying to get them to stop because they have tunnel vision.”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” I said.
“Welcome to the South, Tristan.”
“And a fine welcome it is.”
We clinked our pints together and finished our dinner as the roar of the restaurant grew. We stopped trying to shout over it and, instead, focused on finishing up. I paid the tab at the cash register before I took Isabelle’s hand, then I led her back to my truck.
I had a feeling she would like our next destination after our conversation over dinner.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
I traveled along the main stretch, finding my way to the outskirts of the city. There was a barren field underneath the stars a few miles outside of town. Perfect for stargazing. The locals raved about it. Said it was a popular destination for people to go on dates when they wanted to nature gaze. It was too dark to walk the trails the locals had carved out over the years, but that didn’t matter. I turned off the road and started over the grass, being careful not to hit too many rabbit holes in the process.
“What are we doing?” Isabelle asked with a giggle.
“Stay right here,” I said. “Give me three minutes.”
“Tristan! What in the world?”
I reached behind her seat and pulled out all the blankets I’d stowed away. Then I put the door down to the back of my truck and began laying them out. The stars were out in full force and the moon shone bright in the sky. The sound of Georgetown was nothing but a whisper in the distance and the sound of crickets could be heard for miles. Lightning bugs twinkled in the open field as I smoothed all the blankets out, then I jogged around and helped Isabelle down from her seat.
Then I gripped her hips, hoisted her onto the edge of the truck, then hopped on myself.
“I always forget how beautiful it is out here at night,” she said.
I took her hand before we laid back, our legs hanging off the edge.
“I never get out here during the evenings anymore.”
“I guess that happens when you have two boys,” I said.
“I completely forgot this place existed. I always go to the other side of town and walk those trails near the park.”
“A couple of the guys told me about this place. Said it was the best stargazing place around here,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure they all come out here to stargaze.”
I chuckled as I threaded our fingers together.
“They had some crude comments, but my point was to stargaze. And when you mentioned enjoying the outdoors, I knew I had to bring us out here before I took you home.”
“Thank you,” she said as she turned her gaze to me. “It’s beautiful.”
But she had no idea what beautiful was. Not when I was looking at her. I rose my hand to cup her cheek, then threaded it through her oil slick hair. Those beautiful purples and blues woven delicately into her chestnut tresses. It was one of my favorite attributes she possessed. Her hand came up and cupped around mine and my thumb slid across her lips. My body felt alive. On fire. Awakened for the second time in years. And I knew it was because of her.
Because of Isabelle.
“Tristan,” she said with a whisper.
“Yes, Isabelle?”
Her eyes fluttered closed before she puckered her lips against my thumb.
I leaned into her, capturing her lips with mine. Her arms threaded around my neck as I rolled over on top of her, feeling her body mold to mine. Her legs parted to accommodate me and I felt the heat from her body roll over me. My cock pressed dangerously against the zipper of my pants as our tongues collided. I tasted her beer on the tip of her tongue. My hands traveled her stomach, my fingertips playing along the hem of her skirt.
She rolled her hips into me as a moan escaped her throat, and I knew I could not longer hold myself back.
I kissed down her body, lapping at her deep cleavage and nibbling at her exposed skin. Her hands tangled into my hair, pushing me further and further down her body. I mouthed against her clothed pussy. I tossed her legs over my shoulders. My legs hung off the edge of my truck as I nuzzled her wet panties, taking in her scent.
“Tristan. Please.”
The wind kicked up and carried her plea away just as it hit my ears. I pulled her panties off to the side and blew against her slit, watching her body jump for me. I slid my fingers into her arousal. Coated my skin before I dropped them to her entrance.
Then I inched in slowly, watching her arch as my tongue connected with her clit.
“Oh shit,” she said. “Oh… yes.”
Her nails raked along my scalp as I pressed into her. I pumped my fingers inside her body as my tongue swirled around her clit. I sucked her. Flicked her. Pressed into her until she shook against my face. I curled my fingers into her and felt her jump before a wanton whimper fell from her lips. I looked up at her. I watched her lips tighten as her eyes screwed shut. Her chest heaved and her bosom bounced, jolting as pleasure rocketed through her body. I felt her walls rippling against me. I felt her pull my hand closer. She lost all control of her body, bucking ravenously into me as her skirt inched up her thighs.
&n
bsp; “Yes. Tristan. Yes. Right there. Right there. Harder. Press harder. Like that. Like that. Right there. Oh yes, Tristan! Right there!”
I moaned into her body and it tossed her over the edge. Her back arched and her hips moved, pressing her pussy into my face. She coated my cheeks in her scent. She dripped into my palm as I lapped up every drop she gave me. Her legs shook before they tensed, and strained groans slapped against my ears.
Until her thighs tightened around them and held me in their grasp.
I stroked my fingers until her back finally collapsed, her body panting for air. I kissed up her body and hovered over her, my fingers still buried into her core. My eyes danced between hers. She jumped every single time I moved my hand. I slid my fingers from her body and brought them to my lips, licking her essence off my skin while she watched.
But what I didn’t expect was her reaction.
She flipped me over onto my back with a strength I should’ve figured she had. After all, she worked with massive slabs of wood all day. Her lips crashed to mine as her legs straddled my hips, then she quickly made her way between my legs. I rose up and watched her undo my jeans, her hand reaching in to pull out my dripping cock.
I watched her every movement as she settled between my legs, her eyes locked with mine as she held my girth in her hands.
“Isabelle,” I said. “You don’t-”
But before I could get the sentiment out, she wrapped her mouth around my cock.
I crashed to the floorboard of the bed of my truck as my hand curled into her hair. Electricity shot through my muscles, rendering me immobile as her tongue swirled around my cockhead. She gagged around me. Her throat closed every time I breached that invisible wall. I reached down and cupped her cheek, then helped her to tip her head to a more favorable angle.
“Try that,” I said breathlessly. “But don’t force it.”
It took her a few tries, but she eventually got me down. And it took every ounce of energy I had to contain myself. Her lips, swollen and red, wrapped around my cock as it pulsed against her throat. She bobbed her head up and down, swirling her tongue and raking it against the pulsing vein underneath my cock. She cupped my balls as spit dripped from her lips. My hand curled tightly into her hair. I guided her movements as she swallowed me whole, filling me with a need I could no longer control. My head tilted back to the sky and my hips began to thrust, driving my cock to the back of her throat time and time again.
“Isabelle. Fucking… you… oh, shit.”
Her hands slid up my shirt and her nails grazed my abs. I lowered myself back down and rolled into her hot mouth. She hollowed out her cheeks. Took me back as far as she could. I felt myself pulsing against her teeth as her throat closed around me. I controlled her movements. Fisted her hair as my hips bucked against her face. My heels dug into the floorboard of the truck as lightning shot through my body, and then my legs pulled taut.
Ready to release into her beautiful mouth.
“Is-... a-... fuck.”
Pump after pump shot down her throat as she held herself to me. Her hands wrapped around my shaking thighs, pulling me closer to her. My vision went dim. Sounds around me muted. I felt her swallowing me down and humming around my cock, and it was the sweetest and most succulent feeling I’d ever experienced. I relaxed against the blankets, gasping for air as she sucked my cock down one last time.
Then she released me with a pop that echoed in my ears until I felt her settle next to me.
“I don’t what?” she asked.
I let out a breathless chuckle as my arm wrapped around her body.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Pretty sure I should be saying that right now,” I said.
“Not that,” she said as she slapped my chest playfully. “Thank you for all of this. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this comfortable with a man. Thank you for that.”
I smoothed my hand up her arm as her leg slid between mine.
“Why haven’t you felt comfortable with a man?” I asked.
I felt her sigh as she pressed nearer to my body.
“When I was fifteen, I was raped,” she said. “It was after softball practice, and one of the guys from the baseball team cornered me in the locker room.”
My blood boiled instantly. My entire body tensed up. The idea of someone putting their hands on Isabelle and forcing their way into her world made me irate. Every single thing I could do to that man to make his life a living hell moved through my mind. Prison transfers. Terrible work duties. Hiccups in his parole board, if he had one. I wanted to wrap my hands around that man’s neck and shake him within an inch of his life.
Then, our conversation over drinks that day came crashing back to my mind.
“Wait a second, your father threw you out after you were raped?” I asked.
“Georgetown isn’t without its faults,” she said as she looked up at me. “It’s a good place, but it could use a change in ethics.”
“Where the hell was your mother in all this?”
“A silent party. My mother wasn’t the kind of woman to stand up to a man. She was still part of that ideal that believed women were homemakers and men were left to make the big decisions and bring in the paycheck. Whatever my father said, she went along with.”
I couldn’t even wrap my head around how fucking backwards that was.
“You said Bella’s mother took you in?” I asked.
“She did. Bella’s mom got pregnant young, too. So she understood the position I was in. But between the rape and my father’s reaction to it, I used my sons as an excuse to stay away from men. The idea of letting them near me scared me for the longest time, then it just disgusted me. Especially after I adopted DeShawn. As I started to stand on my own two feet by myself, I wondered what in the world the point of a man was. So I didn’t think about it. But you don’t scare me. You don’t disgust me. You make me feel comfortable, and I wanted to thank you for that.”
I pulled Isabelle on top of me before I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I gazed into her eyes, taking in the strong woman falling between my legs. There wasn’t a second I spent with her where I wasn’t rendered speechless in some way. There wasn’t a day I interacted with her that didn’t come with some sort of insane surprise that left me boggled at the strength she possessed. My eyes danced between hers as my thumb traced the bridge of her nose.
“You’re the first woman that’s caught my attention since Lisa died,” I said. “And I don’t feel guilty like I thought I would.”
Her forehead fell to mine as her curves pressed into my muscles.
“I’m glad you don’t,” she said. “I’d never want to make you feel that way.”
I rose up and captured her lips, feeling her sigh into my touch. The well of strength she possessed overflowed, drenching my skin as I wrapped her up in my grasp. I wasn't simply impressed by her, I was blown away by her. Astounded by all she had overcome and the incredible decisions she had made throughout her life. My tongue slid against her lips and she parted them for me, granting me access without a second thought. Such a miniscule moment men expected, but with Isabelle, it showed me everything I needed to know. Her comfort level with me. Her trust in me. A flourishing want she was comfortable exploring with me.
My hands slid down to her ass, cupping her soft cheeks as she released my lips.
As I gazed into her eyes with the backdrop of the nighttime sky, I felt determination surge through my heart. I knew I’d do anything to protect her from DeShawn’s father. I knew I’d do anything to protect the life she fought so hard for against even her own family to have. I cradled her against me as her face fell to the crook of my neck, my hands slowly wandering her skin and exploring the body that encompassed this strong woman that had captivated me.
There were no more words to be spoken. No more truths to be told. The only thing I had left were my actions.
And there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure Isabelle and her sons stayed safe.
Isabelle
“Williamson County Probation Department, how may I direct your call?”
“Yes, my name is Isabelle Carpenter. I’m looking for the parole officer attached to Darnell Winston?”
“One moment, please.”
I’m not a fan of classical music. But at that point, I was ready to throw my phone out the damn window. Mozart had never been louder played than when that woman placed me on hold for the third time for that phone call. I’d bounced around from department to department, but I was determined to get in touch with this man’s parole officer to figure out what my rights were as DeShawn’s legal guardian.
And finally, the heavens opened up.
“George Buckley speaking.”
“Hello, my name is Isabelle Carpenter. I’m trying to get into contact with Darnell Winston’s parole officer?” I asked.
“That would be me. Are you wanting to report a violation?”
“No, sir. Well, I’m not technically sure on that. My question revolves around his son.”
“I’m happy to answer any questions you have, Miss Carpenter.”
“Wonderful. So after Mr. Winston was convicted and sentenced, I adopted his son.”
“We have that on record, yes,” he said.
“Oh. You do?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why didn’t I know that?” I asked.
“It’s standard procedure for children in child abuse cases to have official paperwork filed on them as they bounce around in people’s care. When I acquired Mr. Winston’s parole paperwork from the jail, I also compiled his son’s official records that were filed at the time of the transfer of custody.”
“Okay. So my question is, does Mr. Winston have a right to see his son even though I’m his legal guardian?” I asked.
“There’s no current restraining order, so technically, yes. But he can’t see him without your explicit permission, since you are his legal guardian. Mr. Winston was stripped of parental rights before his sentencing.”
