by Nikki Ash
“Jesus, Belles.” My words coming out like prayer. She grips my shaft tightly in her hand as she sucks and pumps my cock until I am about to come. “Bella, I’m going to come,” I warn her. This is the first time she’s ever had her mouth on my cock and I never stood a chance at lasting.
She pulls her mouth off my shaft but continues to stroke it. Her eyes lock with mine, her lips plump and swollen from sucking me off. My orgasm shoots through me as I come all over her tits. The sight of her covered in my seed has my dick pulsing, wanting more. I stand in front of her, entranced. She gives me a small smile then leans forward slightly, giving the head of my dick an open-mouthed kiss. Holy fucking shit.
I can’t take it anymore. I pull her up and drag us both into the shower. The water is still hot, and as she stands under it, I watch my cum on her tits wash away, but before it all disappears, she swipes some up with her fingers and sticks it in her mouth. “It doesn’t taste that bad. Kind of salty.” She sucks her fingers for a few more seconds. “Maybe next time I’ll get a better taste.”
I feel myself smile wide at her antics. I love Bella like this. Bold. Sure of herself. She’s a spitfire. I don’t ever want to take that away from her again. I don’t ever want to be the reason she’s not like this.
I pull her close to me and kiss her with purpose. “I love you, Belles. So damn much.” I hear her gasp as her eyes go wide. She opens her mouth but I cover her with my mouth before she can speak. I kiss her for several long seconds before I break the kiss. “You don’t need to say it back. I haven’t earned those words from you, yet. But I will, baby.”
Bella
After we finish in the shower, Marco wraps a towel around the both of us and guides me into his room, throwing one of his shirts at me.
“Stay the night with me,” he pleads.
I agree and pull his shirt on over my body then crawl into his bed, setting the baby monitor on the night stand. Marco pulls on a pair of briefs then lays down next to me. He pulls my body slightly onto his, my head resting on his chest and my legs tangled in his. Being in Marco’s arms feels good. I lay quietly and think about our past, what we’ve been through to get to this moment. I think about the promises he made tonight. About his words. I love you. I think about the future and I find myself praying all those words were just the beginning of something special. Maybe this time we will get it right.
I fall asleep thinking about babies, houses, UFC fights, and I love you’s with the hopes of forever.
Micaela only wakes up once in the middle of the night to eat. The older she gets, the longer she goes between feedings. I feed her, change her diaper, and rock her back to sleep. I’ve just stepped out of Micaela’s room and am heading back toward my room when I see Marco standing in the doorway. His eyes are hooded looking only half awake.
“I thought you left.”
“I was feeding Micaela.” Since I prefer to breastfeed when I’m home, I don’t usually wake Marco up when I get up to feed. I only recently moved Micaela to her room and into her crib. Her bassinet was getting to be too small.
Marco grabs my shirt and pulls me to him, kissing me lazily. His lips move from mine and he trails feather-light kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Sleep with me, Belles,” he murmurs. “Sleep in my bed. Let’s make it ours, please.”
“I can’t,” I blurt out without even thinking. “I can’t make anything ours, yet.” I’m suddenly scared. I went to bed wanting this, hoping for this but as Marco stands in front of me, asking me in a roundabout way to make us official, I find myself starting to freak out. I want this—him—too badly. What if he leaves again? What if he walks away from Micaela and me. What if he changes his mind? How many times can I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and try to put it back together. I can’t chance waking up in his bed and him being gone again.
“Because you don’t trust me.” He doesn’t ask because he already knows.
“I’m sorry. I know you made promises tonight but those are just words. I need to see the actions. The last time I woke up in your bed, you were gone.”
He shakes his head. “No, I get it. We’ll take things slow.”
I give him an appreciative smile and thank him for understanding before going back to my own room. I lay down on the cold sheets wishing I was laying in another bed wrapped up in the warmth of Marco, but knowing I’m doing the right thing. If Marco is serious about us, he will be there in the morning and every day following until I am ready to turn whatever is his and mine into ours.
Twenty-Nine
Bella
“Morning!” I yell to my dad. It’s been a few weeks since I tricked Marco into going jogging. I was hoping he would come and talk to my dad about training here again, but it’s clear he’s going to be stubborn and I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. I love going jogging with Marco but there’s only a few months until this fight he’s in denial of, and I am not about to let him make a fool out of himself.
“Morning, sweetie. Your mom wants to know if you want to come over for dinner tonight.” My dad has become an expert at pretending Marco doesn’t exist. Marco hasn’t stepped foot inside the gym or my parents’ place and he usually visits his parents or his sister when I visit mine.
Well, I’m done with all that. They are acting like immature little girls and it stops now. “Sure, I’m bringing Marco with me.” My dad’s smile fades. “And you are going to talk to him.” His jaw visibly clenches.
“I have nothing to say to him.” My dad says it like a warning but I ignore him. There was a time Marco was like a son to my dad and I’m not going to let them continue their crap.
“Yes, you do. You are going to forgive him.”
“Like hell, I am!”
“You are going to forgive him,” I repeat, ignoring his protests. “Because he didn’t do anything to you. Everything that has happened between Marco and me, is just that. Between Marco and me.”
“He got you pregnant!”
“It takes two. Remember that time you knocked up my mom.”
“He left you.”
“You left her! You walked away without exchanging numbers! We were never together. As soon as he found out about the baby, he got his shit together.” I know it’s a low blow but c’mon. Him and my mom’s relationship wasn’t always perfect.
“He left you, again!”
“His friend had a heart attack. He should have told me he was leaving but I’ve forgiven him. I’m giving him another chance.”
“Are you back together?”
“Not completely. We are taking things slow.” Apparently real slow… like as slow as molasses, so slow we might be going backward. So slow, he hasn’t touched me since the night in the bathroom. I just might have to force myself on him soon. Maybe I can explain to him slow means still moving forward.
“Damn it, Bella. He’s going to hurt you, again.”
“Did you hurt mom, again?”
He sighs in defeat. “You’re my little girl.”
“I’m twenty-one and an adult. Please make things right with Marco. He needs a place to train.”
“I’m not training him. I’m only here to train you.”
“Just make it right. Let him know he can come here to train.”
“Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll talk with him tonight.”
“Thank you.”
After we are done training for the day, I shoot off a text to Caleb. Our parents have remained friends through all this craziness, keeping it separate from their friendship but they have made it a point not to discuss fighting or the gym regarding Marco. Caleb has said on several occasions he understands where my dad is coming from and respects how he feels toward Marco.
Me: My dad is going to let Marco train at the gym but he needs a trainer.
Caleb: I’ll handle it. Thank you.
I get home from the gym and the house is empty. Marco had texted me earlier letting me know he was meeting his mom for lunch, so he is pro
bably with her. I noticed some clothes he folded still on the coffee table and smile. He has been absolutely amazing since we moved in together. He cooks and cleans and does the laundry. He takes such precious care of Micaela, especially since I started trusting him to keep her while I’m training. He made me promises and I’m giving him the chance to show me he can back them up. The truth is we work well as a team.
I grab a stack of clothes to bring them to his room to put them away while thinking about what will happen once he goes back to training. If all goes well, him and my dad will talk tonight and Marco will begin training. We will need to figure out care for Micaela. On top of that, I go back to school in less than three months.
I make a mental note to speak to my mom tonight. Maybe she has some advice on how to handle this. I always knew from the minute I made the decision to have Micaela this day would come but I wasn’t prepared to feel that ache in my chest at the thought of someone else other than my family caring for my baby girl but I don’t know what else to do. I have to go back to school, right? I know my end goal is to fight and run my dad’s gym and there’s no way he will let me takeover if I don’t finish college. Plus, I need to know I can provide for my daughter. What if Marco up and leaves? Or what if something happens to him? I need to be independent.
I open his drawers one by one shoving his clean clothes into them. When I get to the bottom drawer, where he keeps his socks, I notice a stack of envelopes in the back. Plopping my butt onto the ground, I open the drawer and pull the stack out. There’s got to be close to a hundred stuffed envelopes. I consider putting them back, not wanting to invade Marco’s privacy when I catch my name and old address on the front. What the heck!
I skim through the front of each envelope and see the same thing. My name and my old California address. There’s a stamp in the upper right corner but they were never mailed. I should put these back where I got them from. If he wanted me to have them, he would have mailed them. But maybe I could just open one? I take the rubber band off the stack and hold the front envelope in my hand, ready to open it when the front door slams shut. Shit! My guilt takes over and I am stumbling over my own hands trying to hurry up and put the envelopes back when Marco enters the room with a smiling Micaela.
My attempt to shove them in the drawer is almost a success until I slam the drawer with my fingers still inside.
“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” I jump up, holding my fingers and Marco shifts Micaela to his hip, grabbing my hand in his.
“Are you ok? Let’s get you some ice.” He pulls me into the living room, pointing for me to have a seat on the couch then he sets Micaela down under her play gym, her little feet kicking the piano and making noises.
“Thank you,” I say when he hands me the ice. I hold it to my fingers for a few minutes before I blurt out, “I saw the letters.”
He looks at me confused for a second but I can see the moment his mind makes the connection. “Did you read them?”
“No, I was about to but you came home and I slammed my fingers in the drawer.”
Marco laughs. “Such a sneak.” He shakes his head.
“When did you write them? Wait, are they letters? Why didn’t you send them?”
He gives me a comical look and waits for me to stop throwing questions at him.
“I wrote them while in rehab. I was going to send them but every time I went to, I felt like a coward. I needed us to talk in person. So, instead of sending them, they kind of became a form of therapy in a way. I would write them and save them. I wrote one every day I was in rehab after my ten days of detox was over.”
Eighty letters from Marco. I can’t even imagine what they all say. Do I want to know what they say? Those were some seriously dark days for Marco.
“Do you want to read them?”
“Do you want me to?” I volley back putting the ball in his court.
He gives me a nervous smile and nods. “I do but you need to understand I was in a weird place. You may not like everything I have to say.” Then he gets up and leaves the living room coming back a few minutes later with the massive stack of letters. “I’m going to go talk to your dad. He texted me asking to speak to me and I would rather go now. Want to meet at your parents in a little bit for dinner?”
“Sure.” I take the letters from him and he gives me a small kiss on my cheek before disappearing out the door. I stare at them for a few moments before Micaela makes herself known. Setting them aside, I lift Micaela from the floor and latch her on to eat.
“Hey baby girl.” I run my fingers through her dark curls. She smiles wide and swings her arm up then goes back to eating. She takes her meals seriously.
Taking a deep breath, I open the first letter.
October 18th
Dear Bella,
Shit, that sounds so formal, like you haven’t been my best friend since I was twelve years old. I’m sitting here in rehab and there’s so much I need to say to you. So, I decided to write you. First, I know you are pregnant with my kid. Second, I shouldn’t have told you to have an abortion when you came to see me that day but maybe it’s for the best I did because it forced you walk away from me. I spent years saying I would never end up like my mom yet I ended up just like her. High on coke and heroin. Only, I know our stories won’t be the same, because you would never let me destroy our child the way my mom did. I know that’s why you decided to name Tristan as her dad, to protect her, and I need you to know I don’t fault you for that. You are doing something my mom never knew how to do. You are putting your baby first.
When I get out of here, I will sign whatever papers you need me to sign. I’ll sign over my rights. I don’t deserve you or that baby. If you would have listened to me, she would have been aborted. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.
Marco
I finish reading the letter and stare at it. If he felt this way, why did he come to the hospital? What made him change his mind? I can’t leave it like this. I need to read the next letter. After I finish feeding Micaela, I put her into her swing and grab the next letter hoping to get some type of answer.
October 19th
Dear Bella,
Today has been rough. It’s been 11 days since I’ve had a single drug and while my 10 days of detox ended yesterday and the drugs are technically out of my system, it feels like I’m drugged out. My body is craving the drugs. Do me a favor, please? Never tell your baby about me. Pretend like I don’t exist. Don’t tell him, he comes from druggie bloodlines. Keep him the fuck away from all temptation. I’m not saying he will go that way and I’m not using the excuse of my genetics as to why I turned to drugs. But just to be on the safe side, make sure he never goes near them. Don’t let him ever be a fuck up like me.
Marco
My god! Poor Marco. The struggle and guilt he felt. I almost feel like I am invading his privacy reading these words even if they were written and addressed to me and he gave me permission to read them. Not having the patience in the moment to sit through reading the other seventy-eight letters I grab the one in the back and open it up. I need to see how the story ends. Don’t judge me! It’s not like I’m reading the end of a real story… although, I may have done that a time or two as well. What? I have no patience!
January 5th
Belles,
Today is the last day I will be writing you a letter. It feels like I’ve been having a one-sided relationship with you, one that you know nothing about! It’s been a crazy ninety days but I’m getting out tomorrow and I’m coming for you, Belles. It may take a few weeks for me to get settled before I come for you, but mark my words baby, I am coming and once I have you in my arms, I am never letting you or our baby go.
Love,
Marco
Gah! Now I wish I would have read them all! This letter is literally everything but I want to know how he got to this point. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s my fault for skipping to the end!
I tuck the letter back inside and place it in the back again then start from the fron
t working my way back to the end. I read every single letter. I laugh. I cry. I cry a lot. Marco’s right. It’s like he had a one-way relationship with me for almost three months. He went through so much during his ninety days of rehab. He had so many thoughts and feelings. I wish I could have been there for him. I wish I could have visited him and held him and kissed him.
One of his biggest regrets was not being there for my pregnancy. I hate that he feels this way. We can’t go back and we can’t live our lives with what if’s.
Deciding I need to see him and give him a hug, I get Micaela ready and run out the door to my parents’ place to find Marco. I’m still scared and I still don’t completely trust him not to run but I love this man. The good. The bad. The ugly. And I am going to make sure he knows it.
Marco
If you asked what’s in all those letters I might be able to tell you a few of the topics. I know there are a lot of I miss you’s, plenty of I’m sorry’s, and quite a few I love you’s, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you what I wrote in all those letters. Did I mean everything in them? Yeah. But being in rehab was a difficult time. Nobody can understand what it’s like to come off drugs and be isolated from everyone for three months.
I wrote whatever I felt at the time and I didn’t second guess it. I also didn’t read them after I wrote them. Even being in a high-end rehab center, I still saw some awful shit. I saw a drug addicted pregnant woman lose her baby, a husband trying to deal with physically abusing his wife while high. I listened to people talk their tales of how they got the way they are, and while every story is different, we all ended up in the same place, addicted to shit that hurt us as well as those around us.
