Hate 2 Lovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “You can’t keep teasing me, ya big oaf,” she whines. “It’s not good for the baby if I’m in distress.”

  Frowning, I slide off the mattress and stand at the end of the bed, staring at her. “Am I hurting you?”

  She squirms. “You’re hurting me by not making me come!”

  My cock jolts at her words. We’re both stark naked and ready to play. I just want to tease her a bit first before I gift her my dick.

  “Beg me,” I demand with a growl as I tickle the bottom of her foot.

  “DO NOT TICKLE ME, YOU CUNTSUCKING PRICK!”

  I tickle her even more because she’s at my mercy, and she starts laughing so hard, I find myself chuckling with her. When I’m sure she’s laughed herself to tears, I climb up beside her. She curses me until I shut her pretty mouth up with mine. I kiss my wife hard as my palm roams over the swells of her huge breasts—goddamn those tits—and stomach.

  “Roman,” she breathes against my mouth.

  “Shhhh…”

  “Roman…”

  My finger finds her clit, and I massage her slowly at first but then quickly pick up the pace. She groans against my mouth, so I suck on her tongue as I drive her closer to the edge of bliss.

  “Roman!”

  “That’s it, baby,” I murmur.

  She fights against the restraints as she cries out. “JESUS CHRIST!”

  I slide my fingers lower and discover she’s soaked. Like, really fucking soaked. I jolt up and grin down at her. “I made you squirt!” I am a sex god. I always knew this, but now it’s been verified.

  “No, you big dummy!” she whines. “I think my water just broke!”

  The stupid smile is wiped right off my face. “What?”

  “Owwww,” she hisses. “Motherfucking fuckity fuck, I think that was a contraction. Get me out of this now!” Her body fights against the ropes.

  I stare at her stunned. No way. We still have a week and a half. I made her squirt, dammit!

  “So help me, if you don’t get me off this bed in the next thirty seconds, I’m castrating you, Roman Holl—owwwwwwwwwww!”

  Her pained moan jerks me out of my stupor, and I jolt to action. My hard-on is long gone as I start frantically trying to untie the ropes at her wrists.

  “Get your big dick out of my face,” she grumbles.

  “I’m freaking the fuck out here, babe,” I snap back. “Maybe you could suck me off and then I could concentrate!”

  She howls. “How about I just bite it off, because so help me if you bring that thing anywhere near me right now I swear to God, I will owwwwwwww!”

  “Fuck!” I yell as I manage to free her wrist. My dick flops around like it’s a goddamned cheerleader cheering us on as I race to the next restraint. This one comes loose quicker. I help her up into a sitting position and give her a chaste kiss. “We’re having a baby.”

  Her fury melts away and she beams at me. “We are. God, I love you.” Then she clutches her belly and cries out. “GOD, I FUCKING HATE YOU! Why did you do this to me?” She starts to sob, and I’m really fucking panicked now.

  I hate that I’m a damn pro at knots after months of practice because suddenly I can hardly get the ropes loose. Thankfully, I free an ankle and then move to the next.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” I assure her and give her a quick supportive glance.

  Wrong move. She’s glaring death daggers at me. “Fuck you and your sperm,” she hisses.

  Swallowing, I throw myself into the task of freeing her. Finally, I manage to get her untied. Another slice of pain cuts through her and she screams.

  “Fuck!” I shout. “We need to get you to the hospital!”

  “Why does it hurt so bad?” she cries. “I HATE YOU!”

  I help her to her feet and guide her to the bathroom. “I know, baby. I hate me too. Fuck!”

  I quickly clean up her mess and help her into a dress. Then, I toss on some clothes before ushering her out the door.

  “What now?” she questions, clutching her belly. Terror dances in her eyes. I know that terror matches my own. We’re about to be parents and neither of us knows what the hell we’re doing.

  “Two become three.” I kiss her sweet lips. “Let’s go do this.”

  She nods rapidly. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Let’s go do this.”

  Growing up, I wanted a lot of things. Some materialistic, some not. And being the competitive jock that I am, I got what I wanted. I worked hard and earned it.

  Never in a million years could I have dreamed of ever wanting this.

  A family.

  My gorgeous wife and fucking beautiful baby girl.

  And yet, I have it. I didn’t have to work hard or earn it. It was just given to me. Just like that. I’m stupefied. Maybe all those times I used to help Grandma Cookie clean her gutters, God looked down upon me and thought, “Yeah, kid, I have a reward coming your way because cleaning gutters for an old lady certainly sucks.” Or, maybe Dad’s up there, calling the shots. He always was a bossy ol’ thing. Mom says I’m just like him, and that makes me proud.

  I hope Molly is just like Andie.

  Funny and smart.

  Adorable as hell.

  I cringe. Maybe she could stand to look a little more like my ugly mug. Then maybe the boys will stay away. Fuck, who am I kidding. She’s the prettiest damn little girl on the planet—those fuckers will be crawling into my yard like it’s the zombie apocalypse and she’s fresh meat.

  Guns.

  Thank God for guns.

  “What are you smirking about?” Andie questions from the bed.

  I press a kiss to the softest skin I’ve ever touched and tear my gaze unwillingly from our daughter to regard her. “Thinking about how I’m going to murder anyone who ever looks at her wrong. You know,” I say with a chuckle. “Dad stuff.”

  Her blue eyes twinkle despite the fatigue in them. “Dad stuff looks good on you. You’re definitely a DILF.”

  I beam at her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to let you ride this cock until we have at least ten more of these.”

  She scoffs. “Slow down, killer. I am not having eleven babies.”

  Looking down at my angel, I sigh. “She’s so pretty, though. Don’t you want to fill up our house with more like her?”

  “Not eleven!”

  “Eight then?”

  “Jesus, Roman, I’m not Octomom!”

  “Maybe we’ll have quintuplets next time…”

  “Don’t you dare put that curse on me!”

  “Mom was a twin.”

  “No, she wasn’t.”

  “Yes, she was!”

  “Call her right this instant and we’ll end this.”

  “She’s on her way sooo…”

  “Dear God…multiples run in your family?”

  “Grandma was a twin as well.”

  “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

  “If we have twins, let’s name one Cookie after Grandma.”

  “Roman…”

  “Ginger!”

  “Roman…”

  “As in gingersnap…like the cookie…”

  “Roman…”

  “Or Snick!”

  “Roman…”

  “Like snicker doodle. Get it?”

  “Roman…”

  “Snooky? Like that Jersey chick?”

  “Roman…”

  “Maybe—”

  “Shut your pie hole, oaf!”

  I snort, but then Molly flinches, so I keep my sniggering to a minimum as not to scare my angel. “Fine, you can name the next baby. But I definitely want more little princesses, like this one.”

  Andie giggles and it’s sweet music to my ears. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Later, as in six weeks from now when I’m pumping my seed into you against the shower wall the moment the doctor gives us the okay to fuck again. That’s how babies are made, in case you didn’t know,” I tease but then grow serious.

  “God, Andie, I love he
r.”

  Our eyes meet and my wife’s shine with tears. “I know.”

  Thick As Thieves, Right?

  “RUN!” I SQUEAL AS I book it across my front yard to get to safety and dryness. When I bought my perfect bungalow house, I loved it so much. The fact that the garage was detached wouldn’t be a deal breaker for me, or so I told myself. Add in a monsoon, and I’m starting to second-guess this purchase.

  “You run like a girl,” Linc yells over the loud thunder and slamming of rain against the concrete. He races past me with his backpack bouncing on his shoulder. I stick my hand out and he snatches my keys.

  “Well, I am a girl, so…” I point out as I almost slip, just before my front stoop. Thank God he’s quick because he has my door open in no time and we’re both throwing ourselves into the dryness of my front room.

  “Holy shit!” he grumbles. “It’s like a monsoon out there.” He drops his backpack to the floor, pulls off his soaked jacket, and removes his beanie before shaking out his hair.

  “Stop!” I shriek, as I attempt to peel my wet jacket off. “You’re getting my walls wet! What are you, a dog?”

  A twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes is the only warning I get.

  “Linc, don’t you dare.”

  His grin is wolfish. “Oh, but I thought you loved dogs?”

  “Yeah, small cute little dogs. Not big goofy ones.” I start to laugh and hold my hands up to guard his next move, which I know is coming any second now.

  “Oh, so…you probably wouldn’t enjoy this then?” He charges at me, dipping his head down and shaking his hair, splattering water all over me.

  “Linc!” I squeal and close my eyes to block any of it from getting in my eyes.

  “Woof! Woof!” he taunts, and I smack him in the shoulder.

  “Knock it off, bad doggie.” I’m giggling like an idiot. I swear Linc acts more like a child sometimes than the mid-twenty-year-old he really is.

  “Seriously! You’re making it worse—”

  Just then a loud crash of lightning and thunder booms, startling me. I scream and practically jump into his arms. “Dammit! That was so loud. Scared the crap out of me. Do you think it hit my house?”

  As Linc cradles me in his arms, he fights not to laugh.

  At my expense, of course.

  “What? I don’t like storms. They scare me.”

  “The fearless Reagan Holloway has a weak spot,” he says with a wicked smirk. “Interesting.”

  I go to smack him again, but he tosses me over his shoulder. The man is solid muscle, and I don’t stand a chance of escaping.

  “Linc! We’re dripping water everywhere!”

  “And that’s why I’m carrying your ass to your bathroom so we stop creating a mini pool at your front door.”

  He’s dropping me on my two feet in my bathroom in no time. I swipe my sopping hair out of my face. He’s super close to me, which always allows me to get a good look into his guarded eyes.

  A man with a secret. It’s what I’ve thought since the first time we met.

  “Okay, so change, get dry, and then let’s drink.” He pats the top of my head as he always does, and walks out, shutting the door behind him. I laugh at his typical playfulness and turn to grab a towel and change out of my wet clothes.

  I’m trying to peel my wet jeans down my legs when I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I pull it out to see Chase’s face appear across my screen.

  “Hi, babe!” I’m looking forward to him coming over tonight. After hearing way too much information about Andie and her strange fetishes, I shamelessly took the book she practically threatened I read. I told myself I would give it a few chapters, then lie and tell her I read the whole thing, but I found myself up at three in the morning engrossed in the darn book.

  Now, with the curiosity of a damn cat, I’ve been waiting for tonight to try and swindle Chase into trying some new moves in bed.

  “Hey, Pet,” he greets. “How was your brother and the baby?”

  “Sooo cute! I just want to eat her.” Roman and his adorable family just came home from the hospital, and we got to swoon all over little Molly. She has to be the tiniest little princess I have ever held. While she slept in my arms, I browsed through Amazon and bought her a billion bows and little tutu dresses. “Sorry we missed you over there. But we all made plans to have dinner next week. You can see how cute she is then.” I rest my phone between my ear and shoulder and attempt another shot at pulling my pants off. I swear, I may have to cut these things off me.

  “Sounds great. So about tonight. I’m sorry, but I have to cancel. With the Master’s being at Cedar Hilltop this year, I am having to put in a lot of time making sure everything is just right. Right now, we’re sorting out a VIP list. I am the chairman of the board,” he says, pride in his voice. “That means I have a huge responsibility to the country club. Tiger Woods is coming, so it has to be perfect. I’m sorry, Pet, but I just won’t make it out.”

  “Really? That sucks. I mean, about not seeing you. That’s super cool about Tiger, though. I just…I haven’t seen you much lately,” I pout, bending down and attempting to rip one pant leg off.

  “Can we rain check for tomorrow? I’ll take you to dinner. We can go see that war movie that just released.”

  I love our dates, but they always seem to revolve around his interests and hobbies. I sigh into the phone, trying to hop on one leg. The damn fabric is now stuck around my ankle.

  “Yeah, I guess. I’m disappointed but tomorrow sounds fun too.” Disappointed is an understatement. That book really got me all worked up, and I was really counting on letting go of some major built-up stress tonight.

  “I know, Pet. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Sleep well,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I’ll drop by your office tomorrow morning and bring you donuts.”

  “Okay.” I hang up and toss my phone into the sink. I doubt sleeping will be anywhere close to being on my mind, since all I had plans to do was stay up all night. I grunt and tug harder at my ankle.

  “Come on you stupid jeans!” I snap. I lose my footing and try to grab for the shower curtain to hold me up. I fail and fall into the tub, ripping the brand-new curtain off the rod. The last person to rip my shower curtain was my brother and Linc had to come to the rescue. I’m sensing a clumsy-ass Holloway theme here.

  As I lay in my tub, defeated, the door to the bathroom bursts open, and Linc, now shirtless, stands in the small space, staring down at me. He’s my best friend, but right now he doesn’t look so friendly with muscles bulging and eyes wild with concern. The intensity rippling from him causes me to shiver.

  “You okay?” His bulky and colorfully tattooed arms cross over his chest as he peers down at me with an unreadable expression on his face. “What are you doing in the tub, Rey?”

  I grunt, blowing a piece of frizzy semi-dried hair out of my face. “Trying to get my jeans off. But the task seems to be impossible. Any chance you have a pair of scissors handy?”

  His eyes seem to darken for a brief moment, but then he flashes me the infamous Linc smile. All perfect teeth and playfulness and boyish charm.

  “No scissors,” he says with a chuckle. “But how about I pull and we can teamwork you out of those pants.”

  I lift a brow and snort. “You are not going to help me out of my pants, Linc.”

  He simply shrugs his shoulders. “Why not? It’s not like I haven’t seen you in your underwear before.”

  Ugh… It was that one time. In my defense, I was super drunk and had thrown up on my pants. Thank God Linc was there to help clean me up.

  His eyes glimmer, seemingly screaming ulterior motives. “I promise I won’t look. Anyway, we’re friends. I barely find you attractive,” he says with a smirk. “Let alone wanting to see you in your granny panties again.”

  My mouth drops as I gape in horror. “I do not wear granny panties!”

  His laughter fills the small space as he puts his hands up in surrender. “Whatever. I’ll c
lose my eyes. You’re wasting precious drinking time, and unless we’re drinking in your tub, let’s get this show on the road.”

  I stare at him, weighing my options. I really do like these jeans, when they’re dry and not painted on my legs. I’d hate to have to cut them into pieces. And Linc has seen me in my underwear. But they weren’t granny panties. They were boy shorts for the record. I let out a sigh of resignation. We are just friends. We’ve been practically inseparable since he came to town, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he saw my underwear. Which might be white, boring panties, like he assumes.

  But its laundry day, dammit!

  I grunt because after being blown off and sexually frustrated, I also need a drink. “Fine,” I concede and ignore the shit-eating grin it earns me. “Pull.”

  I stick my leg out and he happily obliges by grabbing my ankle and beginning to tug. “Damn, girl. How did you get these things on in the first place?” he asks upon realizing the pants are going nowhere.

  “It’s because they’re wet,” I argue. “Denim turns into suction when wet.”

  Another tug and no help. “You sure it’s not from all the sandwiches you ate at your brother’s house?” he asks, and quickly prepares to catch my other foot before I kick in him in his crotch.

  “No, it’s not because I ate food. And those were cucumber sandwiches. They’re practically fat free.”

  He laughs again, giving me the okay look, as he bends down. Startling me, he gets super close to my laundry day goods, and I about slap his hands away when I realize he’s reaching for the top of my jeans.

  “Okay. Hold on tight. I’m going to tug real hard.” He grabs for the material, and with one swift pull, slides them off my leg. I would say it was a success. That is, until the jeans get stuck around my ankle. This causes him to tug harder. And me, fearing dislocation of my foot, I wiggle along with each pull. Too bad for Linc, he doesn’t prepare his stance, and the second the material lets go, he goes stumbling backward and crashes somewhere in the hallway.

  “Are you sure you don’t want any ice for your head?” I ask for the third time, trying not to laugh. He claims he’s fine, but hitting his head on the wall as he went down couldn’t have felt all that great.