by Alexa Riley
“We already agreed this was the last, Carter.”
Leaning in, he kisses me on my cheek. “I know, baby.”
“This is so unfair! I mean, Jeanette has had two girls. Two! And I bet the one she’s got in there now is a girl too. I just know it.” I pout and resume glaring at Carter as if he really can control the sex of our babies. The doctor told us with each pregnancy being a boy, the odds actually go down for ever getting a girl. When I heard that statistic I knew I was done trying. I’ll just be stuck in a house with men for the rest of my life. Little C is only four and he already growls like his father.
“All right, Layla, we’re going to start now. In just a few moments your babies will be here,” I hear the doctor say but I keep my eyes on Carter. Even though we’ve done this twice before I know he’s on edge. He always is when it comes to the kids and me.
“We still going with Michael and Samuel for the boys’ names?” I ask, trying to get his mind working on something else while the doctor works.
“It’s perfect, baby, just perfect. You gave me these babies. You can name them anything you want and I would love it.”
A cry breaks out into the room and makes a tear slip down my cheek
“Baby boy number one is here,” the doctor announces.
Carter smiles bigger and kisses the tear that slipped out.
“It’s for the best, baby. Could you imagine a little girl running around our house already having me and two big brothers? Might as well send her to a convent.”
I can’t help but snort at that. No, I’m not sure how a little girl would have worked out with us but I think she would have had everyone wrapped around her finger.
“Not going to lie though, baby, it would have been cute to have a little girl that looked just like you… as long as she didn’t have the red hair. I probably would have never let her out of the house.”
“Five pounds and two ounces,” I hear a nurse call out. Another cry pierces the room and I know the second baby is here.
“Well, this isn’t common but it looks like baby number two is a girl and not a boy after all.”
Carter jumps up from his kneeling position and his whole face goes slack.
“Carter,” is all I can choke out, and his eyes come back to mine before he brings his hand to his face to rub his eyes. “She’s got red fucking hair, Cherry.”
My whole face breaks out into a smile. “We’ll call her, Mary,” I say.
Dropping his hand from his eyes, he stares at me and I can see his eyes are shining. No tears escape but I see all his emotions on his face. “After my mom,” he whispers. “It’s perfect.”
Epilogue
Layla
About 18 years later…
“I don’t care if it’s Jeanette and Saint’s only son, I swear to God, I’ll snap that little prick’s neck,” Carter growls, pacing beside the foot of the bed.
Mary is graduating this year and finally picked the college she’ll be attending in the fall. It wasn’t a week later that Jeanette and Saint’s son announced he would be attending the same school. This isn’t shocking news to me. I’ve seen the way he looks at Mary. It’s more than a young man’s lust, it’s adoration.
Setting my book down on the end table next to the bed, I just watch him. It’s best to let him stomp around a little before to help settle him down. Almost twenty-five years I’ve been with this man and I know the two things that work him up most are me and his daughter. He was so scared of being a father to a little girl but he is perfect at it. Because of Carter I know Mary understands what a good man is. She has a shining example of one for a father. Carter might be rough around the edges, but he would do anything for me and that is what I know she sees every day. Carter would crawl through glass if I asked him to do it.
These big gruff men seem badass, but when it comes to their woman it’s a whole new ball game.
“Carter, come here,” I say, tossing the blanket off my lap so he can lay his head there, his skin against mine. That always seems to work best.
Crawling onto the bed he drops his head in my lap and I can feel the tension leave his body.
“She’ll be fine. I promise. It’s time.” Closing his eyes, he doesn’t respond and I just stroke his buzzed hair. “I believe I was sixteen when something locked me into being yours.”
“That was different,” he growls and tries to get back up, but I stop him with the lightest touch that brings his head back into my lap.
“Carter, I remember the look, and that boy has the same one you did,” I remind him, trying to get him to see it too. They might be young but I was younger when I fell in love with him.
“He’s a good boy,” I continue. “We would be lucky if they fell in love and ended up together. No one would treat her better.” It’s true and he knows it. He’s just having a hard time letting go. Our babies are all leaving the nest. That boy has followed Mary around since they both started crawling. It was like they were born to be together. I want their love story to be different than ours. I love Carter’s and mine, but it took pain and blood to get here and we raised our family to be different. Their love story could be simpler than ours because we made it that way for them. They won’t have to fight for it like we did. We already did that for them.
“Let them be. Think about the positive. Just you and me in this big old warehouse again. I can go back to walking around naked,” I tease. He’s always complaining that there isn’t enough of me walking around naked. This is a complaint he makes often and loudly. I’ve heard people say attraction and lust cool after time, but Carter’s has never lessened for even a moment. There has never been a time in the past twenty-five years that I didn’t think Carter wanted me.
Growling in typical Carter fashion, he flips me onto my back in moments, looming over me.
“Kiss me,” I whisper against his lips.
“That’s my line, Cherry,” he says, and takes my lips.
THE END
Bonus
letters Carter wrote from prison
Two Weeks In
Cherry,
I got your letter today. I think I read it a dozen times. It’s the first letter I’ve ever gotten in prison, and I never thought it would be from you. I don’t know what to say about that night, other than it’s in the past. Try not to think about it anymore and move on with your life. Some things are better left forgotten.
Carter
Three Weeks In
Cherry,
I knew I would never mail the letter I wrote to you. I’ve read every one you’ve sent over and over until I couldn’t hold my eyes open anymore. Having contact with the outside world makes me feel like I’m not just a caged animal. I don’t plan on mailing this letter either…I think I just need to write it down. I’ve had eyes on you since the second they brought me to prison. Saint updates me once a week on your status. He’s a good guy and I trust him with my life. More importantly, I trust him with yours. I don’t know what else to say. I’m having a hard time being separated from you. Who knew you could miss something you never even really had?
Carter
Two Years In
Cherry,
Happy eighteenth birthday, baby. I got your letter today saying how excited you were. I wish could have been there to watch you blow out the candles. I can only imagine that in two years you’ve grown more beautiful. I miss your smile more than anything on the outside. I never knew what it did to me until it was taken away from me. I think I could forget about everything but your smile. If I was there and could help you celebrate, I’d give you whatever you wanted, just to see your face light up. One more time. That’s all I’d need.
Carter
Three Years In
Cherry,
I don’t know why your last letter bothered me so much but it did. I get the feeling that there is more going on than you’re telling me. Saint hasn’t said anything has changed, and I keep drilling him for information. Maybe I’ve been in here too long, or maybe I’m reading too
much into your letters, but it sounded like you were off in the last one. God knows I should have mailed my letters a long time ago, but instead I just write a letter for every one you send me and then keep it with yours. I have all these feelings and emotions I want to share, but I’m not good at talking. Besides, I want you to hear those things from my lips and not a piece of paper from a prison cell. You deserve better than me but I can’t let you go. Keep writing, baby. You don’t know how bad I need these letters.
Carter
Four Years In
Cherry,
Goddamn. That kiss. It was everything I dreamed of since I first laid eyes on you. I don’t know how I controlled myself long enough to stop, but I knew I didn’t want all those guards seeing what was mine. I’ve kept you to myself all these years and I don’t like the thought of anyone seeing what’s only for my eyes. I’m sorry I pushed you away tonight but, from what Saint tells me, you have to keep your distance from me. People know something is going on, and from the talk inside, something big is about to go down with your father. I would never push you away, Cherry. You’re my whole world, and I could never not want or need you.
My God, that kiss. How will I ever be able to sleep tonight with my cock this hard? I can’t get the taste of you out of my mouth. I wonder just how sweet the rest of you tastes. I’m going to dream about you tonight, baby. I never knew I could miss a touch after only having it once.
Carter
Four Years In
Cherry,
It’s been a week since you were here and still no letter. I know you’re okay and where you’ve gone, but I miss your letters more than I can ever explain. I knew I needed to push you away, but I never thought about what the absence of your words each week would feel like. But your safety is more important than my getting a letter. I keep trying to remind myself of that. I still have Saint watching over you, and he’ll continue to look after you until I’m out of here. The second I’m out from behind these bars, I’m going to set things right. You’re mine and it’s just a countdown until you know it.
Carter
Six Years In
Cherry,
I’ve kept writing to you once a week even though I haven’t gotten a letter since you saw me in prison. I like to think of this as my journal to you. One day, when I’m out of here, I’ll give you these letters so you can see that I never forgot. That I never, not once, forgot you, or how much I love you. Not for a second did I forget what you mean to me. I hear you’re finally all settled in your new place. Still no piano? I miss the sound of your music so much. One day I want to have a place where you can play for me while I sleep. That sounds like heaven to me. God, I miss you.
Carter
Seven Years In
Cherry,
Today’s my birthday and all I want is you. I replay our kiss over and over every night before I go to sleep. I get rock hard thinking about your soft lips and your warm curves pressed against me. I lie on the bunk in my cell and touch myself, remembering every minute detail of that day – what you wore, how you smelled, and the blush on your cheeks. I jerk off hard and fast thinking about how sweet those lips were. How puffy and swollen they were from my kisses. I picture your pussy lips the same way. Ripe, wet with need, pink and soft. Lips just begging me to suck on them one at a time. I dream of eating your pussy and having your sweet nectar run down my chin. Every night I cum all over my stomach thinking about the day that I can have you. That pussy better be untouched when I get to you. You better be saving it for me, Cherry.
Carter
Eight Years In
Cherry,
Tonight is the last night I sleep in this cell. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m out of here. The only things I’m taking with me are the clothes I walked in with and these letters. I hope you’re ready, baby. It’s been eight long years I’ve waited for you and I won’t wait a minute more. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight. I’m going to be counting down the seconds until I can claim you. You’re mine, Cherry. You’ve always been mine and you’ll always be mine. I’m coming for you.
Carter
Falling In
Saint and Jeanette
Chapter One
Jeanette
“Back up, motherfucker!” I feel like my heart is pounding out of my chest as I point the gun at the door. Not again…never again. I won’t let this happen to me again.
“Jeanette!” a man yells. As soon as I see his face my eyes start to water. The gun in my hand waivers for a second, but I train it back on him.
“I said back up!” I scream, and both men stop instantly. I try to steady the gun, but I feel like I’m seeing double. I must have hit my head harder than I realized.
“Where’s Layla?” the shaved-head one demands. I squeeze the gun tight, trying to get the shaking to stop but it isn’t working. They are both big motherfuckers. I don’t want them to see my fear. Men use your fear against you. You’ve done this before, Jeanette, you can do it again. Them or me. With that thought, I feel the gun steady.
I don’t care if I’m only wearing a sheet. If I look like I’m in control and that I know how to handle a gun, then they’ll stay back.
“Mama, listen to me. It’s me, baby. It’s Saint and Carter. We aren’t going to hurt you. We are here to save you. Put the gun down and come here.”
I shake my head. Do I know them? It doesn’t matter right now.
“Put your guns down. I don’t trust anyone right now.”
The one with shoulder-length hair puts his gun down and kicks it away.
He drops to his knees. I feel like I’ve seen him like this before. I can see unshed tears in his eyes. I’ve never seen a man look like he is about to cry, like he’s ready to kill, but I can tell his anger isn’t towards me.
I wrack my brain for a memory I know I’m missing.
“Come here, Mama. You know how much I love being on my knees in front of you.” At his words, it clicks.
“Can I ask you a personal question? Shot or beer?”
I glance over at the man next to me at the bar. I didn’t even notice him sit down. But the Kat House is always crazy-loud. It’s often hard to even hear yourself think in here, but thinking isn’t why I come. He looks completely out of place, but a free drink is a free drink.
“Sure. Tequila…the good stuff.” He motions for the bartender and orders our shots. I swivel in my chair to get a better look at him. He’s definitely not my type. In fact he’s the type I try to stay away from for good reason, the type that taught me it’s best to stick with the bad boys. The clean-cut boys hide who they really are, and this one is as clean-cut as they come. From his short sandy-blond hair to his blue eyes and three-piece suit, he couldn’t look more boring. He has to be the only person in this place wearing a suit.
His eyes sweep over me and he licks his lips. The thought of his lips on me makes me squirm inside. I’m not sure if it’s him or what he represents that causes the feeling, or the fact that I can’t seem to get Saint out of my head. I came here tonight to find a quick hook-up. It’s been too long. Since I had my sights set on Saint I hadn’t given any other man even a thought. But after his quick dismissal of me I was done with him. I was all dolled up and ready to go, and he just dropped me a quick text ‘Sorry, Mama. I can’t make it tonight’. Not even a ‘Let’s meet up some other time’. The little pet name he used on me, ‘Mama’, was starting to piss me off too. At first I thought it was something he just used on me but given how casually he blew me off I’m probably just on a long list of women he has on rotation. I can’t see a man like Saint having to try very hard to get a woman. In fact I had to go after him at first. Fuck him. I may not hook up with pretty boy here, but I’m sure I can find something around here.
Lays seemed to be enjoying all the attention tonight. She even seemed like she was drunk, which is rare for her. I should try to catch up.
Steve, the regular bartender, drops the two shot glasses down in front of us, making some of the liquor splash out onto the wooden bar
top. He eyes the guy who ordered them and shoots me a look. I just shrug. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. What’s pretty boy doing here? I grab my shot, not waiting for him to take it with me, and down it. The less interaction I have with him the faster he’ll leave, and I can find someone else.
“Damn, baby! No limes or nothing? That’s pretty hot. I like a woman who can handle her liquor. Two more!” he shouts over to Steve.
“I’m not your baby,” I tell him, swiveling in my chair so I’m not facing him anymore. I look in the mirror that hangs over the bar to see if Lays is back from her smoke break but I don’t see her. Suddenly Saint catches my eye. He’s staring right at me. When he used to come into the library where Lays and I work I thought he had a thing for her. He was always watching her. But after a while I noticed he only watched her. Dispassionately. Objectively. Whenever his eyes came to me, he always had a different look on his face. A hungry look. He stood out in the library like pretty boy next to me stands out in here. His dark shoulder-length hair makes him look like he just rolled out of bed. With who I’m not sure, and I sure as fuck don’t want to know. The spark of jealousy that zips through me is a shock. I don’t get jealous. I don’t need to. If a guy doesn’t want me, fine, I’m on to the next, not that I let them stay around long enough to be done with me. That’s what’s great about the bad boys. They want the same thing I do.
