by Xavier Neal
The suggestion stumbles both of us back.
“You can sleep over today, too! Have you ever had a slumber party?” She continues, her innocent view point endearing. “They’re so cool! You’re a grown up, Mom! You should have them all the time!”
“Um…” Ryann quietly struggles to speak.
“And Pax is your special friend and that means it’s going to be even cooler!”
Her logic leaves me stunned.
Where do I even begin arguing against this?
Childlike logic aside, I want to spend the night. I want to be here in the morning. I want to see Ryann’s bedhead in more than a video chat message. I want to watch her get dressed while stroking myself because of how sexy she looks in just her underwear. I damn sure wanna be here when Hattie wakes up. Fix them both breakfast and wish them great days at work and school. Our minor phone conversations are sweet, but they are inconsequential in comparison to what it would be like in person.
“You wanna borrow my blanket?” Hattie offers, pulling Barry out of his seat and into her lap. “You didn’t bring yours.”
“Uh…”
Wow. Out talked by someone who still needs supervision brushing their teeth.
“Hattie,” Ryann cautiously begins, the words still rattling her, “Pax is my special friend-”
“I know!”
“And special friends, like Pax, can’t just sleepover whenever.”
Lie. I could. I very easily could.
“Things are a little different when you’re a grown up and have a special friend. Pax is Mom’s boyfriend-”
“He can’t stay over because no boys allowed?”
Impressed and intrigued by the way adolescent logic works, I simply lean back in my seat to watch how Ryann handles the situation.
It’s complicated.
I understand.
But I don’t agree with the route she’s taking.
I don’t agree that we can’t spend the night together or shouldn’t use this very moment to open that door.
However, it’s not my decision and parenting tips or suggestions of any kind tend to backfire.
“I don’t mind!” Hattie happily says. “I wish Pax would stay over every night, Mom. I like him!”
My voice softly says, “I like you, too, Hattie Pattie.”
Ryann stares on blankly before eyeballing me to say something.
After a deep sigh, I try to explain, “I would love to stay over every night. But being Mom’s boyfriend, means I would stay in Mom’s room all night with her, and if you had a bad dream or got up for your morning cuddles, I would be in the way.”
Being pleased with my answer only lasts momentarily. “You can cuddle with us! We love sharing cuddles with you.”
And…I’m out.
I toss a defeated hand in the air.
Ryann clears her throat and attempts to redirect the conversation. “How about you go take your bath, and we’ll discuss this later?”
“Okay,” Hattie easily agrees. She hops out of her seat, Barry in hand, but looks at me and smoothly adds, “Sure hope you get to spend the night. You could make me pancakes!”
“Or French Toast.”
The tiny gleeful squeal that escapes her causes Ryann to kick me in the shin under the table.
Hattie bounces off to her bath leaving us in uncomfortable silence.
Once the water turning on is heard, Ryann grumps, “You were no help.”
“I…tried.”
“Half-assed. Tell me that’s not what you’re like during divorce mediation.”
The teasing coated in irritation has me delivering the same. “I’m not secretly hoping they lose the situation.”
“You wanted me to lose to my six year old?”
“I want to spend the night,” I firmly declare. “I want to make Hattie French Toast in the morning, and you a cup of a coffee.”
Ryann’s shoulders stiffen.
“Honestly, I hate sneaking out of this house at night like a fucking booty call. It makes me feel cheap. And the wrong kind of dirty. Plus, when I get back to my apartment, I typically spend the next two hours just tossing and turning because I’m not falling asleep next to you.”
A small coo flies free.
“I’ve never pushed the issue because I understand it’s your choice, Ry. I understand you have more than just you to consider but to ask me to passionately fight for the opposite thing I want is asinine.”
To my surprise, she stands in complete silence and begins collecting the plates.
I offer to help her, but she shakes her head. “I got it. You made dinner let me do the dishes.”
Stubbornly, I state, “I can take care of both.”
Her voice hardens. “I am not nor have I ever been looking for someone to take care of me and Hattie. I just want someone willing to share the load and love, Paxton.” She continues her juggling act. “If it makes you feel better, you can do all the dishes in the morning. I have no doubt you’ll use a shit ton then, too.”
My jaw cracks open at the implication.
Ryann winks and returns to the task at hand.
The rest of the evening rolls by quickly. We briefly discuss sleepover rules, such as not sleeping nude and unlocking the door before we fall asleep, and lighter topics like her love of my “lavish” meals. Eventually, bedtime arrives, and we explain to Hattie how I will be here when she wakes up for breakfast. We also explain if she feels comfortable with the slumber party, we will continue to have them, including the next couple of nights so I can make her breakfast for her first day of 1st grade. Hattie’s glee over the situation is precious. She convinces us to read three books instead of the two before we tuck her in with Barry. We cross back through the living room to relocate ourselves to Ryann’s bedroom.
She immediately drops down on the edge of the queen sized mattress and hits me with an inviting look. “You wanna do the honor of undressing me for our adult slumber party?”
Although I want to do exactly that, I lock the door and lean against it. “After we talk.”
Her pout reminds me of Hattie’s. “We’ve talked all day. You know what we haven’t done?”
Temptation to abandon the important conversation sky rockets.
“And we get to do it all night long.”
I groan and adjust my stirring cock. “Parola. You gave me your word.”
Ryann’s shoulders plummet. “Alright. Sit.” Once I’m settled on the bed beside her, she angles her body to face mine. “I met Jesse my last year in college. We were in the same drawing class. I hated him from the first day he sat beside me. He was arrogant. And rude. And frankly gave me the creeps. He was used to women tripping over themselves for him, which is why my ability to turn down his advances made him even more interested in me. Back in those days, I was a bit more fearless than I am now.”
Why do I feel like she’s underselling that?
“I got a kick out of humiliating him in front of people. He told everyone it was our version of foreplay and that he’d eventually get to fuck me.” Her beautiful brown eyes gloss over in sadness. “Eden and I used to party kind of hard back in those days. I grew up locked away from the world. My mother was…overbearing…and didn’t want me to somehow end up in her same party girl footsteps, but all the controlling backfired. The early curfews and ridiculous rules when it came to school dances, including Prom, more or less lead me to rebel in college. There were days when I went to class still drunk.”
Her recollection reminds me of how hard Nate used to party when we were at Clover Rose.
“Anyway, at the beginning of my last semester, there was a party on The Row-”
“Really?” I thoughtlessly interject. “You had a place you called The Row, too?”
“Yeah, it’s this road of Fraternity and Sorority houses close to campus. It’s where all the best parties took place.”
Rather than explain we were that place at our college, I encourage her to continue with a nod.
“Eden
wasn’t in the mood to go, so I went on my own. Mistake number one. It was being held at the Frat Jesse belonged to. Mistake number two. He got me a drink as a ‘peace offering’ for constantly being a dick. Mistake number three.”
My jaw locks in place.
Ryann’s voice is thick with tears. “I don’t remember anything from that night. I woke up in my own bed. My clothes were torn. There were bruises on my legs. I was sore. Everything indicated I had been violated.”
I grit my teeth to prevent from erupting in rage.
“Eden picked me up from the party. She said, I had called her in tears and begged her to bring me back to our apartment.” The sound of her small sniffle steals all the air in my lungs. “I um…tried to talk to a counselor about it, and she told me to just forget it ever happened. That no one would believe my story anyway. That I’d…distract from the real girls who got assaulted by being the party girl who cried rape.” A tear falls from her eyes, and I instantly reach to stroke it off her cheek. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t just forget about it. I got pregnant. And despite my strong desire to deny Jesse the satisfaction of admitting to him that he won, that he had me, that he tapped the ass he had been bragging about, I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I hadn’t willingly slept with anyone in the time frame, which only meant one thing. It was his child.”
“Bastardo.”
“That was the beginning of a very complicated hell. It turned into a he said she said case that resulted in him having custody rights if the DNA matched. To make this long gruesome story short, when Jesse realized I would never want anything to do with him, he kept his rights to Hattie as a way to torment me. To remind me he had at one point and time had me. Been…inside of me.” Her hand briefly touches her lips. “That we would always be connected. He doesn’t want Hattie. He never wanted to be a father. He just wanted to punish and humiliate me for what I did to him.”
“That’s why you unconsciously cover your drink with one hand when we’re at restaurants and watch me pour the contents straight from the bottle?”
Ryann’s trembling hands fold together as she nods. “That’s why I prefer to stay home where I know it’s safe. Where I can protect myself. Hattie. She didn’t ask to be born to that monster and having her here, away from the possibility he’s having us followed or is following us, is safest.”
My body can’t stop itself from winding around hers. “Buttercup…”
Her body shakes in a way I hate.
That I recognize.
That haunts me.
I stiffen my hold and quietly comfort, “You can’t stop living your life because of that asshole. Because when you do, when you live in the fear he created, the fear he keeps you chained in, he wins. He’s taken so much from you already, Ry. Don’t let him steal your sanity or your relationship with your daughter, too.”
She croaks, “I know…And therapy has helped. Believe it or not, I used to be so much worse than this.”
“All things considered, you’re doing fucking fantastic.” My face maneuvers around to meet hers. “And you may not need someone to take care of you, but you’re getting it. You and Hattie are my girls. I will protect you from everything and everyone I have to, including him. He will not keep you imprisoned in this house or your own skin another. Fucking. Day. Abbiamo una comprensione?”
Her tear filled eyes widen.
“Do we have an understanding?”
Her voice quivers, “Yes.”
“Buona. Because now the only thing I wanna do is erase him from your mind and claim you, Buttercup.” My thumbs gently stroke her side. “Hard and deep.”
Ryann begs in a whisper, “Please.”
I can’t get my mouth on hers fast enough. Our tongues frantically clash together, each push tearing out mutual groans of gratification. The previous tremors of fear are swiftly replaced by those of fervor. Soft pleads for more seep from her parted lips as nips land on her ear. Her jaw. Her chin. Her throat. Feeling her pulse race against my tongue swells my cock to the brink of pain.
Tasting her is incredible, but feeling her after knowing what she’s survived is life altering.
In a series of exchanged licks and sucks, we remove one another’s clothing, casting them away like they’re criminals for keeping our bodies apart.
Ryann begins to roll the condom on from her position on top of me.
I cockily smirk. “You know you can’t scream up there, Buttercup. It’ll wake up Hattie.”
She returns the wicked expression. “Guess you’ll just have to help keep me quiet.”
The suggestion causes my cock to thrum in her grasp. Ryann wets her lips and slowly starts to lower herself. As much as I want to grab her by both hips and take what belongs to me, I know she needs this moment. She needs to realize I’d never take from her what he did. That even when we’re heated and fucking I still respect her.
She is still the most important thing in the entire goddamn world to me.
She’s a treasure I’d die to keep unscathed.
Her tight, slick pussy slides itself down until she’s settled at the base of my dick. The sight itself is enough to make me bust, but add in the way her nails are clinging desperately onto my chest or the way her head is lulled back in preparation for a scream, and I’ll be lucky if I don’t embarrass myself in the next thirty seconds. Too overwhelmed by the sexual vision, I screw my eyes shut and focus on the way her wet heat is engulfing my cock. Ryann lifts herself slightly upward and juices drip down my nuts like a warm welcome to the ecstasy. My fingers claw at the sheets until they’ve successfully bunched them into a stress ball. She begins an agonizingly slow rock that results in her ass lightly brushing against my balls. I grit my teeth hard enough to shatter them. Sounds of her satisfaction swiftly begin to increase in frequency and volume as she accelerates her speed. Against my better judgment, I open my eyes to see her tiny tits bouncing right over my mouth. I instinctively open it wide and suck one of her hardened nipples between my teeth. A squeak starts to spring free when one hand flies to her throat to catch it. The rough action detonates her orgasm prompting me to switch my biting efforts to the other side. Her pussy becomes sopping, and I solemnly swear to never leave it. I continue to savagely thrust upward determined to match every stroke. Ryann’s knees dig into my sides as she bucks herself forward anxiously searching for more pleasure.
More satisfaction.
More euphoria.
I relax the grip on her neck, letting my fingers deliver a loving stroke to the area instead. My other hand glides itself up the back of her thighs, groaning at the way the gentle strokes cause her to shudder. The celerity of Ryann’s rocking remains even until I press the tip of my thumb against her asshole. At that point, her movements falter yet mine don’t. I force it to the second knuckle, relishing in the ways it makes every muscle in her body quiver. My dick carves out scream after scream that my hand captures without vacillation. Her stifled cries call to my orgasm like a siren to a sea captain. Ryann’s muscles begin to convulse with such magnitude I know there’s nothing I can do to stop from joining her this time.
With one last squeeze around her neck, I growl, “Il mio amore.”
A barbaric rumble rips through the both of us. We smash our lips together to trap our hollers and overdose on each other’s elation. Her screams flood my entire system with pride.
Power.
Purpose.
Like a fiend, I gormandize on the newfound sensation and salacious sounds of the sticky reward we’ve both received.
This woman is my everything.
It doesn’t matter how fast or crazy this all is.
I don’t care if I’m too far in to see how far gone I really am.
None of that fucking matters.
The only thing I give a fuck about is making this woman mine forever.
I just hope that in the end it doesn’t cost me my sanity…
Chapter 9
Pax puts his SUV in park. Before he has the opportunity to
kill the engine, I announce, “I’m gonna walk Hattie to the door. Stay here.”
His brow crinkles. “Why?”
I reluctantly reply, “They…they don’t know we’re together.”
He locks his jaw in a familiar way.
The hard part about dating the strong, silent type is…the silent part. Sure. When Pax wants to talk, he talks. It’s a beautiful sound. He tells the most amazing stories about his childhood, the kind I wish I had to tell, and it fills his entire body with this joy that he just radiates. But on the flip side…when he’s unhappy he becomes tight lipped. An unreadable emotional statue unless you’ve picked up on some of the clues. For instance he has a tendency to grind his teeth or lock his jaw when he’s pissed. Like now.
