by Saylor Bliss
During the day, when I’m not texting her or writing her on Messenger, we Snapchat back and forth. If something exciting happens during my day, I can’t wait for my chance to tell her. I miss her every second of every day, and sometimes it's a battle with myself to not walk out of practice and rush to her side, just so I can steal a kiss from her sweet red lips.
The evenings are my favorite time of the day. I swing by and pick her up from work, and on the way home, we decide on dinner. Some nights, we just pick up something quick, but my favorite is when we come home and, after changing into comfortable sweats and tees, we make our way to the kitchen. While cooking the evening meal together, I tease her relentlessly with soft kisses to the back of the neck and gentle strokes of my fingers along her arm, her jaw, and her lips. I drive her wild with desire, and then after dinner, I take her upstairs and show her how much she means to me.
I haven’t told her I love her yet. I'm trying to wait for the perfect timing. The ring I ordered and customized for her beautiful third finger came in last week. I had Jordan go pick it up for me just in case the tabloids were buzzing around. I don’t want them to ruin the surprise for her. God, I can't wait to make her my wife and spend every day of the rest of my life making her the happiest woman on earth, but first, I have to find her.
“Babe,” I call out as I reach for my phone on the bedside table, but it isn’t there. What the hell? I always put it on charge before going to bed at night, but it isn’t here. I rack my mind.
Something happened last night. The memory dances along the edge of my grasp, teasing me. Did we fight? I look around the room, finding her bag on the floor, filled with clothes and shoes.
Shit.
“Sky,” I call out again, hoping against hope that she’s just downstairs and didn’t hear me the first two times, but it soon becomes obvious that she isn’t here. I sit on the edge of the bed and lay my head in my hands, rubbing at my temples, trying my best to recall something . . . anything.
Flashes dance across my mind's eye: Skila screaming at me, tears falling down her face, her storming out of the room, a blonde stripper outside on the front landing. The pieces fall together, and soon enough, my memory is back just in time for me to wish it gone again. I can't believe she left.
Yes, I can.
I can't believe I let a fucking stripper bring me home. I should have explained it better. I should never have gone out to begin with, but after the game and the doctors, I just needed to let off a little steam, and having a few drinks with Chris always seemed to do the trick. I had too much, especially on top of the Percocet the doctor gave me, but I didn’t do anything. I know I didn’t. I wouldn't do that to her, to us.
How could she even think that? Is her opinion of me no higher than that I’m cheating scum? She really believed I would bring another woman home to fuck while she was here, pregnant with my child? What the fuck kind of person did that? The old you would have, the devil on my shoulder whispered, but I pushed him away. I’m not that person anymore.
I don’t know what to do with all this. My heart and brain argue back and forth with each other, each one trying and failing to prove their own worth. On one hand, I want to rush to her and explain, and demand how she could ever think something so horrible of me, and then my brain kicks in, and I tell myself to just let her go.
If this is how she sees me, if she has no more faith in me than this, then I don’t want her. I know that’s not true. I'll always want her. She is mine, my beautiful Midnight Sky. Unable to make a decision either way, I flop back against the undisturbed pillows on her side of the bed and toss my arm over my eyelids.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Skila
I didn’t sleep a wink all night long. I swear, if it wasn’t for the baby growing in my womb, I would have been plastered before midnight, but as it is, I decided to just drown my sorrows in a tub of Chunky Monkey ice cream and The Voice on TV. All night long, I replayed last night's events over and over in my mind. Did I really see what I thought I saw?
There was no doubt that Kiptyn had shown up drunk off his ass with a blonde bimbo in tow, but something about the whole situation seemed off. First, why was she standing on the front porch if he brought her home with the intent to sleep with her, and was what he was trying to tell me when I stormed out of the house true? Was it as innocent as a ride home?
I admit I don’t know Kip that well. I only met him a little over two months ago, but in that amount of time, I have lived with him for a month. We spent every day together. He has never given me any reason to believe he could be the type of cold, heartless man it would take to do something like I accused him of last night. In my heart, I know the truth.
I had flown off the handle. I was already upset and worried about him when he didn’t come straight home after the doctor. I knew I should have stayed there with him, but he urged me to go home. He didn’t want me to worry, I could tell, and whether he liked it or not, I was worried, not because I cared whether he played professional ball or not, or whether he was loaded. I was worried because I knew what the game meant to him. It had pulled him out of a dark place several years ago and given him something to put his energy into. He needed it.
I went home when he asked me to and re-dusted the entire downstairs. I put a load of laundry in the wash and took one out of the dryer. After folding it, I took it upstairs to put it away, which is where I was when he pulled up, or rather when she pulled up. It struck me then how strange it was for someone to be driving him home. How did she know where he lived? Had she been there before? Was she a regular?
No. Kip never dated, and from I learned about him, he didn’t usually bring the same girl home twice. So how did she know where he lived? There was only one conclusion. He must have told her, but if he was able to do that, then why didn’t he drive himself, or better yet, call a cab?
I think back over the inebriated state he was in, staggering up the stairs and leaning against walls. His voice was slurred and his eyes were bright. That explains him not driving.
My hormones have been all over the place. Some days I’m up, floating so high on life that I get on my own damn nerves, and then other days I’m low, not wanting to get out of bed at all. Of course, it’s not always the days that rotate my moods in and out. Sometimes, it can be something as small as a commercial on TV that sets the tears off, so it's possible that I let my hormones get in the way last night and dictate the way I handled the situation.
One thing is for certain. I’m not the type to just run away and cower. I'll be going back to Kiptyn’s today, and he will give me the answers I want. Afterward, we will see where we both stand. It’s time to put everything out there. There’s no doubt in my mind that I'm head over heels in love with him. He entered my life at a time when the last thing I wanted was a relationship, and he had not taken no for an answer. I had been swept off my feet.
Now I feel more betrayed than ever. I was fine before he came along. I would have made it without him. Even once I found out about the baby, everything would have been great. Of course, it’s even better having him there at every appointment. He even went and bought two baby books, one for Mommy to fill in and one for Daddy. He claimed we had different views on every memory of our journey, and he wanted to be able to document his own.
I hate to admit it, but his is already more full than mine. There are so many things that I would never write that seem like the biggest deal to him, like the first time I asked for hot sauce on my eggs, or the first time I woke up craving Sonic's chili cheese dogs. He writes everything down, like it's his own personal journal of our pregnancy.
Our pregnancy.
The more I think about it, the more certain I am that he didn’t bring her home last night to sleep with her. I’m not saying what he did was okay by any means, but in my heart, I know he was telling me the truth. I can feel it in the depths of my soul.
“Hey, lazy bones,” Lisa calls out to me, entering the front door carrying—God bless her soul—Sta
rbucks. I sit up immediately.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” I say as I make a grab for the cup in her hand and she shimmies out of the way, laughing.
“What? You thought one of these was for you? Nah, boo.” She tries to hide the smile on her face, but I see it sneaking through.
“Oh, ok. Well, in that case, I guess Suzan will make a good godmother.” She knows I’m joking. I would never trust something as serious as that to someone I didn’t trust implicitly. Her hand flies to her heart.
“You don’t mean it? Really?” she asks, setting the coffee down on the end table and pulling me into a tight hug. She smells of honeysuckle, and it reminds me of our summers in Georgia.
“No, I don’t if you don’t,” I say as I pull back. She shakes her head up and down and then pulls me back in for another quick hug before grabbing the coffee and passing it to me.
“I love ya, girl. You know that, right?” Uh oh, I feel a talk coming on. I take a sip of the hot, creamy ecstasy before nodding for her to continue. “What the hell are you gonna do about that man? You know you can stay here as long as you want. I’ve never cared. Hell, we can move up to a three-bedroom if ya want so the baby has a room too.”
I cut her off before she continues. “I’m going there today. I . . . I think I may have overreacted last night. I mean . . . well. I’m going to go there today and put it all out there and see what he says. I appreciate the offer, Lisa, and who knows? I might be taking you up on it, but I’m gonna try to talk to him first.”
“Ok, babe. Just know the offer stands.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kiptyn
She slides her warm, firm ass along the length of my cock. He jumps to attention, ready for action. Her back arches, pushing her beautiful ass up higher, and then she grinds down, wiggling firmly against me. I can feel the wetness between her thighs. My hand reaches out to grasp her hip, but she pulls away.
“Don’t touch,” she whispers, easing back against me.
It drives me wild, this game she’s playing. I want to grab ahold of her and plunge deep within, making her cry out in pleasure, but she wants control, so she will get it. Her back arches again, pushing her swollen stomach forward. Her hair falls down my chest between us as she grinds up and down along the hard length of my cock. I bury my head in it and inhale. She smells of coconut and something else, something exotic. It’s intoxicating.
I want to get lost in it.
The crease of her ass is so warm, and the friction from her continued thrusting only makes it hotter. She reaches one hand around, bringing it to rest between her legs. I feel the breathy moan that escapes her when she slides a finger inside, followed by another. She grinds faster and harder against me as she fingers deep inside of herself. Her movements are wild and chaotic.
I’m going crazy with the need to be inside of her, but she still won't let me touch her. She’s jerking my cock off with her ass cheeks, squeezing them tight as she grinds down and then loosening when she rises, only to repeat the process over and over again. I’m so close to losing it. My cock jumps against her ass and I groan.
“I’m about to cum.”
She flips me over and straddles me. Her stomach stretches out in front of her, and I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I want to run my hands along it to her magnificent swollen breasts, but when I reach forward, she slaps my hand away.
“Don’t touch,” she says again. I slump back against the bed and let her have her way with me.
I can feel her juices pooling in between her thighs. She’s more than ready for me, but she doesn’t give either of us what we want. Grabbing my cock, she slides her fingers around the base of it before stroking up and down its length. I’m so fucking close to coming. It’s taking everything I have in me to hold back and let her have her fun with me.
I refuse to finish before making sure she gets hers. Holding the head of my dick in her hand, she slides her wet pussy along the entire length of me, coating me in her slick juices. Fuck, she is so damn wet. She moans, or I moan—I don’t know. She raises herself back up and rubs the head against her clit, flicking it back and forth, over and over.
Her legs twitch.
Leaning forward, she positions me at her entrance, and I brace myself, because I know after the seductive fucking foreplay, this is going to phenomenal if I can keep from exploding on the spot. She lowers herself, inch by glorious inch.
I’m in heaven. There is no other explanation. Nothing on earth could ever feel this good. I must have died and gone to heaven. I place my hands on her hips, and this time she lets me. Fuck, this woman is gorgeous. I push my hips upward, burying myself the rest of the way inside of her, and we both cry out at the same time as the insane waves of pleasure pulse through us. It's like we’re connected. Everything I feel flows straight through me and into her.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
What the hell? I look around, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from, and then I realize it's the doorbell. Fuck it. Let them ring it. I don’t care.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Seriously, who the hell is at the door, and why can’t they take a clue? I’m trying to make love to my girl. I look over, and for a minute, I lie there in shock. My bed is empty. I’m all alone.
Ding. Ding. Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was just a dream? How is that possible? I’ve never dreamed something so real. Is that even possible? Yeah, I guess so.
“Shit.” I jump from the bed and toss on a pair of sweats, running down the stairs.
Skila left last night in a hurry and left all her stuff here, including her keys and phone. Now, I felt really bad for leaving her at the door this whole time while I was curled in the bed. I slide to a stop in front of the door and run a hand through my hair.
“Good morning, baby. I missed you.” I say, swinging open the door, and then I choke on the words. My heart stops right there on the spot, and I know I'm two point five seconds away from an ambulance ride to the hospital. I must have taken too much pain medication. Add in the alcohol I drank last night, and that could explain my vivid dreams and hallucinations.
In all my wildest dreams, I never thought I'd see this. Excitement, pain, heartbreak, joy, elation, bewilderment, every emotion you can think of crash through me in that moment as I stand there with one hand still on the door handle and the other laying limp at my side. My eyes are no doubt the size of saucers and my jaw is lying on the floor beside my cold, dead heart.
“I’m not your baby, but yeah, I missed you too.”
Chapter Thirty
Skila
I turn into Kiptyn’s drive, and the anxiety I have so far kept at bay comes flooding back, turning my stomach into a swarm of nerves. I feel the bile rise and fight every instinct to let it up and out. I’ve got to hold it together and follow this through. I came here for answers, and I refuse to leave without getting them, one way or the other. It's the least he owes me after the way he pursued me relentlessly. Not that I regret letting him win me.
I don’t.
Swallowing repeatedly, I follow the circular drive and come to a stop beside the flowing fountain in the center, parking in the same spot my car was in yesterday before I fled. Chris’s car is still here where it was last night, and I wonder for a second where Kiptyn’s is. Closer to the front is another black car. It looks like a Honda, but I don’t know cars that well, so it could easily be a Lamborghini. Maybe Chris got someone to give him a ride to pick up his car. God, I hope that’s what it is, even though I’d rather not have an audience here for this conversation.
I check the rearview mirror, adjusting my lipstick and tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I’m procrastinating and I know it, but now that I'm here, I'm starting to second-guess myself. What if the blonde is still here? What if they're upstairs together right now? Surely she wouldn’t be. I mean, worst case scenario, even if he did sleep with her last night, he always got rid of them before morning light, right?
I rub my hand
along my stomach, and the contact gives me the boost of confidence I need to get out of the car. I glance in the mirror one more time, noting the steel determination in my eyes. You’ve got this, Sky. It's now or never.
I wipe my hands along my jeans, trying to dry the constant moisture, but it only works for a second and then they're soaking wet again. I’m at the steps now, and it has just occurred to me that I don’t have a key. I left without anything last night. Hopefully, the door is unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I reach forward and grasp the handle and turn. The door swings open.
My heart is beating so loudly that I can't hear anything past the beating in my ears. I swallow again, choking down the ball of nerves, and shut the door behind me with a gentle click. I pause at the base of the stairs, dreading what I may find up there. I’m afraid to walk up the stairs, to the one place that brought me so much happiness and joy in the past month, fearful that he shared it with another woman. This is no way to live my life.
From this day forward, I refuse to ever have to worry about this again. I'll tell him how I feel and pray he can accept it, but I'll make certain he knows I’m not anyone’s fill-in. He can either choose to be faithful to me or leave me to go on my way. I refuse to warm his bed until he finds someone else he wants.
I hear voices coming from the kitchen. Not just one, but two at least, and now my anger spikes again. If that bitch is still here, I’m gonna kill him.
My heels click down the hall, and I count the sounds to calm my raging pulse—ten, eleven, twelve. “Kiptyn,” I call out and hope and against hope that he will welcome me with nothing to hide. He doesn’t.
“Oh shit. Sky, wait,” I hear him call to me, and my heart sputters in my chest.
That bitch is here. I knew it. How could he do this to me? I know he’s coming for me to try to intercede, so I cut through the dining room and enter the kitchen from the other side, expecting to catch them off guard.
