by Brooke May
How many people does it take to change a three-year-old?
“Let’s go potty, Marissa.” Katie finally pries her off me and finishes getting her ready. I leave them and walk over to the fireplace. There’s a little nip in the air tonight, and knowing both of my girls prefer to sleep hot, so I start a fire.
“Say good night to Daddy.” Katie carries her to me, and I kiss Marissa good night.
“Love you, princess.”
“‘Ove you, Daddy.”
I turn back to the fire and watch it start to dance across the logs. I’m not startled this time when Katie sneaks up on me. Her soft hands glide down my back after squeezing my shoulders and wrap around my waist, locking them together and resting her head on my back.
“Mmm …” I feel the vibrations of her hum against my back. “You seem relaxed?”
“I am.” I place my left hand over hers, our rings clinking against each other. “Thank you for suggesting this trip.”
She moves to my side, keeping as much contact between us as possible. “You know, last time we were here, I wanted to try something, but Gwen wrecked it.” I look at her, seeing the reflection of the flames dancing in her shining eyes.
“Oh yeah, what was that?” My dick swells and jumps for the umpteenth time today. It was pure torture seeing her in her black and white bikini again and not being able to whisk her away to have some fun in the woods. Though I love my daughter dearly, I now understand why kids are often called little cockblockers.
“This.” She rounds to the front of me, her lip between her teeth, and eyes hooded as she starts to undo the button and zipper of my pants.
“Really?” A low growl rattles up from deep in my chest; the place only she has touched, the place solely belongs to my woman.
Steadily, she nods her head, and my pants are slowly pulled down my body. I’m glad I kicked my shoes and socks off after dinner. When she stands again, she grazes my erection, causing me to hiss. I reach out to grab her, but she jumps away.
“Ah-ah”—she waves a finger at me—“my show.”
Fuck.
I drop my hands, clenching and releasing them to try to obey. She reaches down, all the while slowly turning in her dancer’s grace, undoing her shorts. She stops when her back is facing me, her cheek touching her shoulder as I hear the zipper of her shorts and she ever … so … slowly … lowers … them. I bite my lip to keep from grinding.
I need her.
Katie steps back to me and runs her hands down my chest and my abs until she reaches the hem of my shirt. “I love that you wear tight shirts. I like seeing all those muscles that I know you have on display.” She steps closer; we are almost touching when she lifts my shirt up and off me, discarding it. “Mmm.” She leans forward, running her tongue from the base of my neck down to the top of my abs and slowly takes off her own shirt.
“Christ.” This woman was made to torture me in the most wonderful and consuming ways. “Come ‘ere.” Her eyes flash to mine, and her ice blue looks darker than ever, almost completely gray. Shaking her head, Katie shimmies, rubbing her thighs together. She is only in pink lace boy shorts with a matching bra.
“Remove your boxer briefs.” I’m mesmerized by how her lips form each word, taking her time to say them.
“Panties,” I grunt. I am incapable of forming more words to string a sentence together.
“Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” she teases. I’m lost to her completely. I will do anything for this woman. I love how sweet she is, how kind, but getting to know this little sexy side of her is a real treat. Sex was incredible before, but now, it is savored, far more powerful and meaningful.
“It’s your show, baby.” As much as I want to grab her and bring her to me, I raise my hands and leave my body open to her.
“It is.” She crosses her arms. “I’m waiting.”
Hell.
She even taps her foot. “Unleash the beast.”
Shit.
How can I resist her when she pulls that out?
“You want it; you got it.” I ease my boxer briefs down. I don’t want to shove them because getting the band caught on my dick hurts like a bitch. Katie doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, so I’ll willingly do it her way.
My eyes never break from hers as I drop them. Her eyes widen, like always, in complete admiration and lust. “Panties.” I point at her center, where I know she is dripping for me. She may want to take her time, but having the time we’ve been having and not being able to bury myself in her has been hell. I fucking loathe periods.
“You want it; you got it.” She shimmies out of them, rocking and rolling her hips in a way only she can while throwing my words back at me.
“I am one lucky man.” I take a step to her but falter.
Unhooking her bra, she comes up to me with the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen on her face. “Yes, you are. Remember to be quiet; Marissa tends to be a light sleeper.”
“Oh Katie, remember, I’m the one who makes you scream.” I run a digit down her cheek, her chin, and down the center of her chest as I make my way south. “You wet?”
Right as my finger reaches its destination, she replies, “Soaked.” I groan, but it sounds closer to a snarl.
With a slow but satisfactory pace, I slide my fingers into her folds and run my finger over her clit, over her opening.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
“Sex by a fireplace? That’s what you desire, baby?”
“Mmmhmm.” Her eyes flutter shut as she nods.
“Your wish is my command.” When I remove my finger, her chest rumbles with her disapproval, but I quickly rectify it when I bend, grab her legs, and hoist those lovely thighs over my shoulders. I’m glad we have a high ceiling.
“Chamberlain!” she screams, grabbing my hair.
I blow against her wet, tender, delicious center. “Quiet Katie, you don’t want to wake Marissa.” Her grip tightens in my hair and only increases when I run my tongue up her seam. God, I love her taste. I could never figure out why guys say their woman tastes sweet or some ridiculous flavor. Katie’s taste is salty, and it’s fucking mouthwatering. From the now handful of times she’s gone down on me, I can now say she carries my scent, my taste—forever marking her as mine.
She moves, rocking against my face, her juices sliding down the corner of my mouth. I nip her clit, causing her to jump, and return my attention back to her center, shooting my tongue in. Her rocking forces my hands to move from her outer thighs to her glorious, perfectly round ass.
I drag my full tongue up and back down, lightly slapping her ass with my hands. “Ooooh!” Her thighs go stiff. I look up at her face as she falls apart above me.
Fucking beautiful.
Her lips form a perfect O, and her head falls back as her orgasm takes hold of her. Before she can recover, I gently ease us down to the floor and cover her body with mine. Chest to chest, drenched core to hard as fuck dick, I roll my hips, letting her know I’m taking her. My pre-cum does nothing to lube my way in because her juices provide enough. I ease my way in and grunt as I fill her and she forms perfectly to me.
Nothing, no one could feel as amazing as Katie Lawrence, my wife. She purrs and rubs her hands over my arms and down my chest, dragging her nails over my abs as she writhes under me. “I can’t get enough of you,” she mewls. I can’t talk now. Words have escaped me as I pull out, her tits bouncing as I slam into her. “Oh!” Her hips rise to meet my next thrust. She holds me and grinds against me, rotating and clenching me with her walls.
Like her with me, I can’t get enough of touching her; my hands start at her shoulders and slide all over her body as I continue my pace. Thrust, grind, repeat.
The glow from the fire casts a beautiful light over her body, her nipples erect and begging for my touch, the look of pure ecstasy on her face, and fuck, her playing with her clit. I settle my hands on her hips, my hands running down her knees and back.
I can’t get deep enough.
Once again, I roll us, taking her by surprise. Without breaking the contact, I wait until she settles on top of me and pulls me even deeper into her. Her warmth tightens around me to the point I can barely move my dick.
Instead of going up and down, Katie rocks back and forth, rolling her hips and digging me deep into her body. “Chamberlain … I’m close.” Her hands glide up her body into her hair as she pulls it up and lets it all down onto her body.
Oh, I know she’s close.
I know this body better than she does; it must be a pure male response because when your woman says she is close, it gets you ready. My dick grows harder, and I stiffen, rocking my whole lower body off the floor and spilling myself deep into her. In the back of my mind, I pray this never changes.
Her orgasm hits her seconds later, but instead of crying out, she bites my shoulder, muffling herself.
I can’t. Fucking. Move. And I don’t want to. Lying in front of the fire with Katie in my arms, I’m in a whole different realm with our lovemaking. It is perfect. Her soft breath trails across my chest, my hands leisurely running up and down her sweaty back. I could stay like this forever.
Chapter Forty-One
Katie
LIKE I ALWAYS do when I’m nervous, I smooth down the front of whatever I’m wearing. Right now, it is the red dress I bought a few weeks ago. Tonight is the banquet for my father. I’ve never been so glad to have Marissa stay behind. Chamberlain has been tense since the moment we woke this morning, but he keeps reassuring me everything will be fine.
Everything around here has been crazy since we got back from the cottage. Dodging the press, working on different aspects of Beth’s fledgling career, and photo shoots for both Beth and Chamberlain with various sponsors have kept me and my mind busy. I almost forgot about the banquet.
“You’re going to leave hand streaks down your dress,” Beth points out as once again, I run my hands down.
“Oh, right.” I move my hands to my sides and feel how damp they are as I squeeze them closed. “I’m nervous.”
“No shit,” she deadpans, moving in front of me to fix my makeup.
“Chamberlain has it under control.” I don’t dare move to look at Fiona; she has a curling iron in her hands and can be deadly with it.
If we only knew what it is he has under control. All we’ve been able to get out of him is he is going to make a statement of some form. Other than that, he has failed to share what he is going to say. I have complete trust in him, but I would still like to know what he has planned rather than be surprised like the others who will hear it.
“He’s been downstairs pounding into a heavy all morning, so I don’t think the nerves are just you.”
Like an extension of myself, I know when Chamberlain is close. I look up from the vanity mirror in the corner of our room to find him in the doorway with a towel draped over his shoulders, and his muscle shirt dark with sweat.
“Hey.” I lick my freshly painted lips and hear Beth sigh in exacerbation.
“Hey.” He walks into the room and over to our closet to get his tux. “You look great.” He kisses my temple and nods at Beth and Fiona. “I’ll be ready in a few.”
“Don’t shave,” I quickly say before he disappears into the bathroom to shower and get ready.
A salacious grin appears in the corner of his pouty mouth. “I won’t.” That deep tone reply eases my nerves exponentially, and the need for him replaces it.
“There is way too much testosterone in this building,” Beth grumbles next to me, spraying a curl Fiona has finished.
“It isn’t that bad. If anything, the estrogen outnumbers the testosterone.” I glance at her, careful not to move my head too much.
“Hmph, Scott has enough to fill a football stadium along with his ego.”
“So we are calling him by his first name now?”
“What?” Her hands fumble, and she nearly drops the hairspray, making Fiona and me laugh. “No, it’s just ... umm ... never mind.”
“All right.” I’ll let it go for now and give her a break. Since we came home, she and Scott have actually been getting along, somewhat. I’m starting to wonder if my friend’s iron wall is starting to weaken. She has let him in to the point she is letting him help her train more.
“I’m going to check on Marissa.” Fiona kisses my cheek after setting the curling iron down and leaves the room.
I hear the shower start and focus my attention on something that has been on my mind, something only Beth and Fiona know about. “What if I can’t get pregnant again, Beth?”
“Stop it.” She slams the hairspray down. “It will happen; quit focusing on it and let things go, K.C.” She sounds angry but also bored of the subject. I can’t help but be nervous. Maybe I had the IUD in too long, and it affected something
But she’s right; I need to just let it happen. “You have other things to focus on right now, like how you’re going to escape that place after Chamberlain does what he needs.”
“I’m not concerned with that. They always make sure a bunch of reporters and photographers are present. They won’t chance making more of a scene by throwing down with Chamberlain.”
“It would be their death wish.” She laughs, making me laugh as well.
“This is true.” I can’t see my father, Tim Senior, or Junior trying to stand up to Chamberlain. He’s taller than all three of them and probably outweighs them by at least fifty pounds. None of them were ever big men; they have always been more on the thin, sleek side.
“I wish I could be there to see what happens.” Beth falls onto the bed, grabbing my pillow.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll see it on the news later tonight.” The shower stops, and I nod for Beth to leave. “Thank you for helping me get ready.”
“No problem.” She jumps up. “You’re a beautiful lady, K.C., but giving you a little extra armor is my privilege. Good luck tonight.” She claps her hands together. “I have a date with a little girl, a bowl of popcorn, and a stack of movies.”
“Have fun.”
“You, too.” She blows me a kiss and skips out of the room to look for Marissa and Fiona. I turn to the bathroom door as it opens. Steam billows out around Chamberlain as he towels off with an extra towel; another is wrapped low around his waist, giving me an excellent view of his V.
“Can we not go and stay here instead?” I rise and walk around the bed to him. I can’t keep my hands off his body; Chamberlain’s body is a work of pure art. Cut and chiseled, it’s an excellent example of the male form. He’s ripped in all the right places; broad shoulders that slim from the tight ridges of his abdominals to his narrow waist. His arms and legs are thick, muscular, and strong. I love having those arms wrapped around me. There is no other place where I feel safer.
“I don’t mind you eye fucking me, Katie, but I need to get ready.” He kisses me before dropping his towels on the bed and pulls on his boxer briefs followed by each piece of his tuxedo.
“Fine,” I pout. “I’ll be waiting.” I pick up my clutch and head down to the living room. If I stayed in there, we really wouldn’t be leaving.
XOXO
I KEEP A tight grip on Chamberlain’s free hand as he pulls us into the parking lot and up to the valet service. He insisted we take the Challenger because the last time he picked me up in a muscle car, it was one he had borrowed from Gwen. And like last time, I’m pretty sure we have the only American muscle car in the whole lot.
When he puts it in park, he pats my hand. “Showtime.” Getting out, Chamberlain takes long strides to reach my side before the valet can. When I’m collected, he grabs our ticket and leads me into the building, hand pressed closely on my lower back as we follow the signs guiding us to the proper room. “We’re in this together,” he emphasizes to me. I steel myself with a nod and prepare for whatever comes our way tonight.
And just like last time, the room looks the same; decorations are sparsely hanging around, the lighting is low, and the tables are pristine.
“Oh, you made it!” I hear a clap accompanying the overly sweet voice of my mother. The next thing I know, I’m forcibly hugged and kissed on both cheeks while Chamberlain squeezes my father’s hand to death.
“It’s good to see you both.” I haven’t heard my father’s voice, minus newsfeeds, in so long that I barely recognize it. When I was little, really little, I used to think his voice was strong and held all the protection for me in it.
Boy, was I wrong.
“Where’s our table?” Chamberlain speaks for us, and I’m glad. I don’t think I have the strength to speak at the moment.
“Over there, at our table, darling. But first”—my mother loops her arms through Chamberlain’s free one and pulls us along—“there are some people who are dying to meet you two.”
Chamberlain’s hand moves from my back to my hand, fastening us together as my mother drags us around to introduce us to people. Some I knew growing up while others I’ve heard of through the news but never met before.
Not so secretively, I’m enjoying watching my mother squirm when someone asks where I have been. She brushes it off and tells them we must hurry before the meal starts. When Mrs. Harth comes into our line of view, my mother visibly stills, but Chamberlain and I keep walking to her.
“Mrs. Harth,” I say warmly as she envelops me in a hug. She was always kind to me. I think it was my Grandma Cunningham’s influence.
I never knew the woman Aunt Jackie told me about when we talked about my grandma. Apparently, she was a weak woman and minded whatever her husband had to say. Grandfather passed away when I was a baby, so I think it aided in her change. Before Fiona, Grandma was all I had and knew about love.
I had asked Aunt Jackie once if Grandma ever tried to reconnect with her after Grandfather’s death, but she said the damage was done and she could never get over the fact her own mother couldn’t protect her and refused to stand by her side. She almost died laughing when I told her how Mrs. Harth, who evidently has never liked my mother, was so kind to me. Aunt Jackie reminded me that I look a lot like Grandma and her and nothing like my mother.
