Teasing her, I lick her pussy slowly, so slowly that her frustration grows as she wiggles beneath me. She tries to guide my head to her sensitive nub in her desperation for release, but I hold her legs tight to the counter and continue to build the tension under my control. When she relaxes and decides to trust where I’m going to take her, I stop dragging it out and encircle my lips around her clit, massaging her nub with my tongue. Her breathing grows faster and her hips are rocking rhythmically under my hands. I look up her body and watch her plump tits bounce as she arches her back with pleasure.
Slipping a finger in her, her pussy pulses and clenches around me, giving me a preview of what’s in store for my cock as her orgasm grows closer. She’s close now, so I let out a low, deep hum as I continue dancing my tongue over her clit. She stiffens up and cries out with bliss as my humming vibrates my lips around her clit, pushing her over the edge. When her body goes limp, I pull away, letting her recover as I toss my clothes to the floor.
Isabella is sitting on the edge of the counter, studying every inch of my ready cock. I lift her from the granite, and she wraps her legs around me, sliding down onto my thick member easily. Holding her steady, I walk her across the room and push her back up against the fridge with a thump.
“Ahhh! Christ, that’s cold!” She protests.
“I guess I’ll just have to warm you up then, won’t I?” Without waiting for her answer, I lean over her and take her nipple into my mouth, and she reaches back over her head, grabbing onto the top of the fridge. Her breasts are more fully exposed to me now, and I nibble and kiss each of them as I thrust my rigid cock into her like I’m trying to push the refrigerator into the next room. Sweat crests my brow as I hold her steady while pushing my cock deeper into her on every thrust.
“Stop,” she cries out.
I hold steady inside her. “What’s the problem? Are you okay?” Fear washes over me that maybe I’ve been too rough. I know it doesn’t make sense, but there’s a part of me that worries I’ve hurt her or the baby somehow.
“I’m more than okay,” she purrs, casting away my panic. “I want you to fuck me over the counter, from behind… hard.”
What kind of man would I be if I turned down a lady’s request? Especially one as hot as that. Pulling my steely member from her, I place her back down on her feet, and she wastes no time lying over my counter, sticking her ass out toward me, wiggling it teasingly.
Fuck, she’s hot as hell.
Walking up behind her, I place my legs outside each of her thighs, so she’s locked in place, and grab her hips. I give her round ass a sharp, little slap and bury my cock inside her mound in one swift thrust.
“Mmmm, yeah.” She breathes into the counter.
She said she wanted it hard, so hard is what she’s gonna get. I hold her tight against the counter, fucking her fast at a deeper angle than I could against the fridge, and right away she’s quivering around me. My breathing grows jagged as her pussy hugs my cock tight, and I keep pounding into her relentlessly.
Isabella lets out a deep, guttural groan and tenses up around me, pushing me to the edge. My orgasm shoots through my belly like lightning and I fill her with my seed. The air is thick and heavy as we both pant wordlessly. I pull away from Isabella, and she turns around, looking utterly spent.
“I think you wore me out.” She smiles.
I kiss her softly and gently guide her by the hand down to the bedroom.
“I can’t go to bed yet,” she protests, “it’s only nine.”
“It doesn’t matter what time it is,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “You’re pregnant and you looked after a two-year-old today. Then to top it off you just had the best sex of your life,” I tease her.
She laughs, lying down in the bed and tugging the sheets up over her hourglass figure.
“Well, I’d say top ten anyway.” Her eyes twinkle mischievously, challenging me.
“Top ten, eh? I guess I’m gonna have to step up my game a little.” I’m tempted to step it up right now and claim the number one spot, but Isabella looks exhausted. “Next time. For now, get some rest, listen to your body.” I lean over and kiss her before heading out the door.
“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away,” Isabella calls from the bed as I leave.
Maybe I haven’t worn her out enough.
I quickly pick up our scattered clothes from the kitchen floor and walk back into the bedroom to finish the job, but Isabella is snoring softly, completely out cold. In her usual fashion, she’s already sprawled her arms and legs across the bed like a spiderweb. Putting my clothes back on, I decide to give her a couple solid hours to hog the bed before I try to squirm my way in there. It’s amazing how a woman so small can take up so much room. It makes me wonder how the last trimester of this pregnancy is going to go.
I hear the phone ringing in the office and quickly bolt out of the room to find it before it wakes Madison up. Who the hell is calling at this time of night? Not that nine is particularly late for most people, but it is when you’ve got a toddler.
In the quiet apartment the phone seems louder than usual, like a firetruck just pulled up into my office blasting its horn.
“Hello?” The edge in my voice is thinly veiled.
“Colt! I’m glad I got you on the first try. How are things going there? Has Madison been a good girl for you?”
“Lisa?” Rationally, I recognize her voice and know it’s her on the line, but she sounds so different I have to ask.
“Of course, unless Madison has another mommy I don’t know about.” She chuckles. “I’m kidding. I know I’ll never be replaced, right?”
“Lisa, where are you? I thought you were—” I stop and choose my words carefully. I almost said ‘locked up.’ “Uh, admitted to the hospital.”
“I was,” she proclaims cheerfully. “I was just released this afternoon and thought I’d check in. So, how is my little girl?”
“Madison? She’s doing really well. She’s adjusted to her new routine nicely. Still the same happy kid, as usual. What’s happening with you? Have the charges been dropped now?”
Why hasn’t Frank called me to give me a heads-up on this? If she’s out now, I should’ve heard it from him first.
“No, nothing like that. I wanted to thank you for the lawyer you got for me, Colt. He was a real life-saver. I didn’t know just how sick I was, but being in the hospital was the best thing for me. Now they’ve got me straightened out with my meds again and I’ve never felt better. I agreed to enroll in a voluntary outpatient group therapy program for my schizophrenia and then the judge is going to make a ruling on whether or not I can stay out under the observation of a parole officer or, well, I’m trying to stay positive.”
“Wow, well, that sounds like it’s really going to help you a lot.” I’ve never had a reasonable conversation with Lisa for this long since, well, I can’t remember ever having a reasonable conversation with Lisa. “I’m really happy for you. It sounds like you’re on the right track to recovery now.”
“Thanks, Colt. I’ll tell ya, at first I was pretty torn up about it. I mean, I needed to save her from the wickedness, you know? The pharaoh holds Satan in his heart, and as her mother, it’s my duty to protect her from that. But now, I understand Madison is where she needs to be. It’s best for her that she’s in your care. And now she can be raised like the princess she is, from the inside.”
It’s like I’ve been stabbed with a cleaver made of ice. They let her out when she’s still talking like this? What the fuck is going on with our penal system?
“Uh, okay. Well, either way, you don’t have to worry about Madison. She’s in good hands. I’ll get a hold of my lawyer tomorrow, Lisa, and find out how visitation is going to work now and all of that. So, don’t worry about anything, just focus on your program and your trial and getting better, okay?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been given a second chance. Thank you for that. I’m going to make the most of it. I won’t mess i
t all up this time. And Madison’s been given a second chance too.” Her voice cracks. “I know she’s in the best place for her right now. I know that. I know that,” she repeats. “The pharaoh never thinks to look inside his own walls. She can be raised as a princess in his walls.”
So much for a rational conversation.
“Okay then. Well, you have a good night. We’ll be in touch soon, okay? I’m happy to hear things are looking up for you. Take care now.” I hang up the phone and suddenly I’m the one who’s exhausted.
Somehow, talking to Lisa always has that effect on me. I walk down my hall and open Madison’s door and a sliver of light casts across her face. She looks so peaceful, sleeping in her little bed. It’s a blessing that she’s young enough that this won’t taint her childhood memories, but even so, there’s no telling how much of Lisa’s instability has affected her.
I’ll call Frank in the morning. There’s no way she’s gonna get visitation when she’s still so unstable. I’ll drain every bank account I have before that happens.
30
Isabella
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” My father’s forehead is glistening in sweat as he preaches to the packed church. You can hear every time someone shifts in their seat or clears their throat because everyone is watching him with such interest. Even Colt and Madison have their eyes glued to Dad, and if you can keep a toddler interested in a church service then that’s saying something.
My father is always at his best when he’s preaching. The passion in his sermons is electrifying. I remember being a few years older than Madison and sitting up near the front in my fancy Sunday dresses, hanging on his every word. Even as a small child, I knew my father had a unique gift to be able to hold people’s attention like he does.
“Now let’s think about that for a minute,” he continues. “I want you to think of your own kids now. Close your eyes and bring up their beautiful faces in your mind. Not the way they are now, not the faces of your grown kids rolling their eyes at you, or your teenage kids slamming the door on your house. Nah, push those smarmy faces outta your mind for a minute. Those ones will still be there when you open your eyes back up.” A dull sound of approval and laughter rolls through the pews and I can’t help but smile even though I’m sure the smarmy face in his mind is mine.
“I want you to think of when your kids were young, think back to when they were just learning to ride a bike. You remember those days, don’t ya? Maybe you were pushing Junior up and down the sidewalk in front of your apartment block, or maybe your kid was lucky enough to learn in a backyard on some nice, soft grass.”
I look around the church and watch as women in beautiful hats and men in sweat-stained dress shirts sit with their eyes closed and smiles plastered to their faces.
“Think about how panicked they were, looking behind them every minute to make sure you were still hanging on to their seats. How they’d look at you with their big eyes and tell you not to let go. But you had to, didn’t you?”
The room fills with mumbles of approval.
“You had to let go or they’d never learn to ride that bike. And you knew, you knew in your heart that after you let go of that seat your kid would fall. You knew they would get hurt. You knew they would scrape their knees and they would cry. So you gripped onto that seat with all your worth, but you knew that sooner or later you’d let go. You had to. Because you loved them. And after they realized you weren’t hanging on anymore, what did they do?”
“Fell down,” a few members answer.
“What happened when you let go?” my father repeats louder.
“They fell down!” More voices answer from the pews.
I remember how my father pushed me on my bright red hand-me-down bike in an empty parking lot by our apartment. I laughed and squealed when I realized I was pedaling the old bike on my own, about four seconds before I crashed into a chain-link fence and bawled my eyes out. My father brushed me off, made sure my arms and legs weren’t broken, and then got me back on the banana seat that was all sealed up with duct tape from years of use. By the end of the afternoon he had me riding that two-wheeler on my own without any help. I smile as I recall the pride that swelled in my chest as he cheered me on.
“That’s right, they fell.” Dad interrupts my thoughts. “Those knees bled and tears fell from their eyes and it hurt your heart to see it, didn’t it? You would’ve given anything to take that hurt away. To make it so they could learn without pain, without hardship, without sorrow. Yet, if you did that, if you took away the bruises and bumps, guess what? They would’ve never learned a thing. No, they wouldn’t. And so, God knew we were the same way. As His children, He needed to let us fall. He needed to let us sin. To cry. And to return to Him to be swept up in His arms and look to Him for comfort. So He sent us His only begotten Son to help us manage our pain, to help us learn from our mistakes, and to give us guidance after we’ve fallen.”
“Amen.” The word comes out of my mouth and it surprises me.
Colt looks over at me with an eyebrow arched, but he doesn’t say a word.
As the service comes to a close, I hold back with Colt and Madison in the pews and let the crowd shuffle from their seats before me. I watch as men line up to shake my father’s hand while my mother gathers with women to chatter in a circle. My stomach flips when the people begin to thin out and I know I can’t put this off anymore. I have to go talk to them.
Seeing my hesitation, Colt grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze, while holding Madison in his other arm. The heat of the room and long service have proven to be too much for her as she’s fallen asleep against his chest without a care in the world. I tug my long skirt nervously and take a lungful of air and press forward, clinging to Colt’s hand. My father watches as we approach, but he doesn’t smile. Then again, I’m not smiling either, so the feeling is mutual.
“Isabella, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“Hi, Dad.”
My mother breaks free from the few stragglers still gossiping with her and rushes over to me, giving me a big hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. And who is this?” She nods at Colt, waiting for a formal introduction.
“Mom, Dad, this is Colt Grant. Colt, these are my folks.” I watch as Colt shakes my father’s hand.
“That was a powerful service, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
My mother smiles at him, but my father’s expression doesn’t change.
“And who is this little angel?” My mother coos, looking at Madison, who is still fast asleep on Colt’s shoulder.
“That’s Colt’s niece, Madison. His brother passed away and he’s raising her now,” I tell them bluntly.
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss, Colt,” Dad finally speaks. “I’m sure he’s looking down from above and watching over you.”
“Thank you, sir. I believe he is.” Colt swallows hard, as the emotion in his voice betrays him.
“You two are dating then?” My mother looks at Colt as she asks.
“Yes. Actually, I moved in with him a month ago. I thought it was about time you had a chance to meet him and Madison, so I was hoping we could all go out for lunch. Our treat.”
I avoid my father’s eyes burning a hole through me. I knew they wouldn’t approve of me moving into Colt’s apartment, but there’s so much more they’re not going to approve of, I thought I’d rip that one off like a Band-Aid.
“Oh my, well, that is a surprise.” My mother holds her hand to her chest like she might faint, and I start to reconsider why I ever bothered coming here. “It sounds like we all have a lot to talk about. I think going out to lunch sounds lovely, don’t you, John?”
Everyone’s eyes turn to my father, just how he likes it. “Come inside, Isabella.” He motions toward the church. “I have to close up in here before I can go anywhere. Besides, I don’t have much of an appetite, I’m afraid. If you�
�d like to talk to us, you can talk to us here.” He presses his lips together in a thin line, and I glance over at Colt.
Why did I come here?
Reluctantly, I follow my father through the large wooden doors back into the church with Colt and my mother on our heels.
Dad quickly makes his way to the front of the church and starts picking up papers from his pulpit. “So, Colt, what is that you do?” He doesn’t even bother to look at him when he talks.
“I’m the manager of the The Families of Fallen Heroes organization. We help families of soldiers lost in combat roles with, well, just about everything. From finding counsellors who can help them with the first steps of grieving to getting their kids into college. Years later, we try to honor the sacrifice their fallen hero made for our country by getting them through the tough and trying times.”
“That sounds like an effort the Lord surely smiles on,” my father answers. “And, are you a member of the Baptist Church, Colt?”
“Dad!” I interrupt. “You can’t ask people what religion they are.”
“Why not? There’s no harm in asking, is there, Colt?” My father stops pretending to be preoccupied with tidying up and looks straight at me. “I’m just trying to get to know the man you’ve shacked up with, Isabella. That is why you came for this little visit, isn’t it? I’m sorry it isn’t going the way you thought it would if we were all eating sandwiches.”
“With all due respect, sir—”
“Colt, with all due respect to you, this is between my daughter and me,” Dad cuts him off.
Something about being around my father turns me into an angry teenager all over again. He’s never accepted that I’m an adult who is capable of making my own choices.
“No, Dad, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I thought you might like to know that you and Mom are going to be grandparents. Isn’t that nice? I’m sorry I thought taking you out to lunch might be a pleasant way to share the good news.” Anger makes my words tremble in the air.
His Promise Page 12
