by Sadie Black
“No family is perfect, Brianna. But they’re family. You can’t hold their mistakes against them forever, it isn’t fair. I know that we’re gonna make mistakes as parents too and I hope our child isn’t as bull-headed as you’re being.”
“You know what, you don’t know everything!” She slams her bottle of water on the table and a small stream erupts from the top like a volcano in a children’s science fair. “You’re a smart guy, but you don’t have all the answers. And you sure as shit don’t know my father. You think he’s gonna welcome you into the family with open arms? Think again. It’ll just be another way I’ve disappointed him. Because that’s what I am,” she points to her chest and her face twists up, “I’m a walking disappointment to him. Why should that change now?” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes and flow down her face. Brianna’s body shakes as sobs escape her lips. I put my water down and pull her into me as she soaks the front of my dress shirt with tears.
“Hey, shhh. It’s ok. You’re not a disappointment to anyone, you’re amazing.” I try to soothe her.
“You don’t know my father!”
“Well, if he can’t see what a beautiful, intelligent, kind person you are then that’s his loss.” Pulling back, I run my thumb over her wet cheeks. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, or us, or the baby, ok? What matters is what you think. Don’t let your father’s voice be your inner dialog, Brianna. It doesn’t sound like he’s known who you are for a long time. All I’m saying is that I want to meet your parents. If they aren’t happy for us than that’s their issue, not ours.” I guide her face to my lips, gently kissing her forehead.
“Fine, I’ll introduce you.” She relents. “I don’t want to keep having this same argument. I refuse to let my parents put a wedge between us.”
“Thank you. Seriously, I mean it. I know this isn’t easy for you.” I look down at her and pull my thumb down her cheek, following the trail of her tears to the corner of her perfect mouth and then drags it across her lip. Leaning over her, I kiss her gently, tasting her lips slowly. I can’t stand to see her sad. I want to kiss away her misery, to take away her pain. Sometimes I feel like she’s keeping me in an arm’s-length, and I only know half the story. I can’t help but wonder how much more time it’ll take before she lets me in.
She looks up at me from under her eyelashes, but the sadness has been erased from her eyes. Instead I see something that makes my body react instantly, lust. I hold her head in my hands and tell her with my eyes what I’m about to show her with my body. Kissing her again, my tongue is speaking a different language than the one we just shared. My gentle kisses have been replaced with an urgent longing as I drag my lips down over her jaw and nibble a trail down the side of her neck. Brianna’s breathing is quickening, her hot breath is billowing in my ear as I press my body into her, emphasizing the growing desire begging to be let free from the fabric of my pants.
“Come on,” she tugs my hand, “let’s go to the bedroom.” The look of longing in her eyes makes my cock throb. The fact that she’s still wearing any clothing at all speaks loudly to my restraint.
“I can’t wait that long, I need you right here. Right now.” I tug her tank top up over her head and unclasp her bra letting it drop to the floor. My tongue circles her dark nipple, dancing over it until it is a diamond tip in my mouth. Brianna throws her head back, moaning softly. I drag my tongue across to her other breast devouring her nipple as my hands slide underneath her shorts and skimpy underwear pulling them down over her supple ass. I slide them down over her thighs until she wiggles her clothes to the floor. For a moment I let my eyes glide over every inch of her caramel flesh, soaking in her statuesque beauty. Brianna throws her head back and holds her chin high under my gaze. Her eyes glint with the pride that any woman who owns a body like this should have. I love how she owns her sexuality, how she knows what she does to me, and she’s proud of it.
I easily lift her up and slide her back onto the counter until she is resting back on her elbows. Her mound is glistening with desire, her nectar barely contained between her lips. I lean over her laying my hands flat on the insides of each of her thighs holding them open until her pussy is exposed to me fully. Brianna bites her lip in anticipation and I bury my head between her thighs breathing in her perfume, plunging my tongue into her mound. She gasps and throws her head back so her long hair is draped over the counter and she rocks her hips forward to meet my mouth.
Teasing her, I lick her pussy slowly, so slowly that I can feel her frustration growing 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. I can hear her breathing grow 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, I can feel her pussy pulsing and clenching around me, giving me a preview of what’s in store for my cock as her orgasm grows closer. I can feel that she’s close now, so I let out a low, deep hum as I continue dancing my tongue over her clit. I watch as 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.
Brianna 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 on 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 ok?” A 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 that I’ve hurt her or the baby somehow.
“I’m more than ok,” 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 ladies 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, and 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. Brianna lets out a deep, guttural groan and tenses up around me tight, pushing me to the edge. My orgasm shoots through my belly like lightening as I fill her with my seed. The air feels thick and heavy as we both pant wordlessly. I pull away from Brianna 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 Brianna 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,” Brianna 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 Brianna 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 I quickly bolt out of the room to find it before it wakes up Brooklyn. 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.
“Bradley! I’m glad I got you on the first try. How are things going there? Has Brooklyn been being a good girl for you?”
“Eileen?” 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 Brooklyn has another mommy that I don’t know about.” She chuckles. “I’m kidding, I know I’ll never be replaced, right?”
“Eileen, where are you? I thought you were,” I stop and choose my words carefully. I almost said ‘locked up’, “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?”
“Brooklyn? 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 Dwight called me to give me a heads up on this? If she’s out now, I should’ve been hearing it from him first.
“No, nothing like that. I wanted to thank you for the lawyer you got for me, Bradley. He was a real life-saver. I didn’t know just how sick I was, but being in the hospital was really 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 Eileen for this long since, well, I can’t remember ever having a reasonable conversation with Eileen. “I’m really happy for you, it sounds like you’re on the right track to recovery now.”
“Thanks Bradley, 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 that Brooklyn 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.”
I feel 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, ok. Well, either way, you don’t have to worry about Brooklyn, she’s in good hands. I’ll get a hold of my lawyer tomorrow, Eileen, 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, ok?”
“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 it all up this time. And Brooklyn’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. “Ok then. Well, you have a good night. We’ll be in touch soon, ok? I’m happy to hear things are looking up for you. Take care now.” I hang up the phone and now I’m the one who’s exhausted. Somehow, talking to Eileen always has that effect on me. I walk down my hall and open Brooklyn’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 is young enough that this won’t taint her childhood memories, but even so, there’s no telling how much of Eileen’s instability has affected her. I’ll call Dwight 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.
Chapter Five
Brianna
“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 Bradley and Brooklyn 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 are electrifying. I remember being a few years older than Brooklyn 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 minds. Not the way they are now, not the faces of your grown kids rolling their eyes at you, or your teenage kids slamming the doors 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 me.
“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 onto their seat. 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 that they would get hurt, they would scrape their knees and that 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 never would’ve 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.”
