by Falon Gold
“Baby, damn,” spews from him just before he rocks into me, but he’s still civilized.
Dammit, where is this man’s heathen side?
He frees my breasts from the restraints of my bra, and latches onto them. Using them to lock me into a much too sweet-tempered tempo.
But he’s moving, Astrid. He’ll give in soon. You can hold on a little longer.
The pep talk is nothing more than a bunch of baloney. The slapping of our flesh while he hits my delicate spots, even at this pace, is mind numbing, wearing me down. Energy depleting way too fast. Soon, there won’t be enough to wait for Blake to crack and maintain imprisoning the monstrous climax desperate to be set loose.
I’m practically dying to cum, contemplating surrendering to my needs, and drooping forward. Something’s got to give, and it’s going to be me. Kneecaps go first, burdening the outer rail of the chair with my weight. Next, my elbows bow down, dropping like concrete blocks. I tremble as if I’m on a caffeine high. Blake’s motion ceases. He pats my shin.
“Get up on the chair, baby.”
I deposit a knee against the arms of chair’s sides unhurriedly, thankful for the extra space in it, scared if I move too fast, I’ll lose the bit of control I have over the suspended orgasm.
He taps my lower back. “Now, arch for me.”
I submit to his command, placing my hands on the cushion, permitting total access to my soaking wet tunnel I pray he exploits. He carves handles out of the globes of my ass, and then drills into me. Not expecting the harsh impact, it throws me over the cliff that I’ve been teetering on for far too damn long.
“Blake! I’m—”
He gags me quickly with his palm, while towing my ass backwards one-handed, right into the path of a powerful lunge of his pelvis. I roar behind the shield of his fingers, enduring the hammering of his body and the hell reigning down on mine. He’s broken at last, at the wrong time, when I’m tolerating more bliss than a human should, and not going to survive it.
Self-preservation kicks in, instructing me to take the fetal position and repent my sins while I still have the chance. Basically, I’ll be bending over to kiss my ass goodbye. Seems appropriate, so I stow my head in the crook of the chair. Blake plunges into the middle of the hurricane raging inside me, crashes through white-hot spots, then falls back, and repeats. The storm intensifies. This isn’t going to turn out well for me.
It was stupid to bury your head and leave your ass uncovered in the first place, Astrid!
Now you tell me.
Abort fetal position now, dummy!
I rise, locking my elbows, lessening his penetration along with my chances for suffering back to back orgasms. Blake seizes my forearms, folding them behind my back. Jesus, he’s subduing me. Too weak to resist, I decide groveling is in order.
“Blake, if you don’t stop, I’ll cum again. Too sensitive.”
He puts pressure on my spine, which I cave under like wet paper. “Not yet, Astrid. Too good.”
I wholeheartedly agree. “That’s why I need you to stop, sweetheart. I can’t handle another—”
“No.” He rams into me, rudely cutting me off. “Way.” His momentum picks up. “In.” Spring boarding off my backside, he spears through me. “Hell.” Inciting a rippling effect of cruel, punishing waves that I’m unfit to ride out. “Cumming too.” He’s not the only one. “Fuck, Astrid. It almost hurts.” Karma is a bitch.
He burrows balls-deep in my sheath, grabs for the wingback, chugging oxygen. Thoroughly screwed and protected by my barbarian, I submerge my teeth in my bottom lip, smothering the acoustics exploding from my voice box. My arms ooze down beside me, as if they’re made of goo. I don’t know how long it takes for the climax to taper off, but I’m completely spent when it does and my right mind returns. Blake is standing beside me, all supreme, perfect, and functioning. Now how is that fair?
“Up, Astrid.”
My thighs quiver, recommending that I stay right where I am or deal with the consequences. “No thank you very much, love. Just leave me. I’ll get up when I’m not a wreck.” Grime coats my throat like I’ve been eating ashes.
“Nope. Bath time.”
“I’ll drown, but you can throw the water on me, and I’ll suck it out of my clothes. Doubt if I can hold a cup.”
Blake laughs. “Nope to that too. Just lift your head, and I’ll do the rest. Quickly, sweetheart, I need to unlock the door so Malisa can come in with your luggage.”
“Forgot about her. When did she arrive? Why did I not hear you answer the door or her knocking?” I slap the arm posts and shove upright.
“She got here about thirty seconds ago, and you had your shoulders hunched up to your ears like you were practicing a tornado drill.” Oh.
He scoops me up and enters the bathroom, small with the bare necessities. The straightaway between each entry point isolates the shower with a seat from the sink and toilet that Blake parks me on. Waking up my bladder. He fiddles with the knobs for the shower, regulates the temperature, and smacks my forehead with his lips before securing and shutting the doors. All normal activities for us that I won’t take for granted, not after I could’ve lost him today. We’re fortunate it’s just his memory that’s been snuffed out and not his life. Blessings counted.
Now, how in the hell am I going to explain to him that I go back to work tomorrow, cleared for duty to show him the ropes in his own station, in exchange for the favor Councilman Alder did me? Somehow, I don’t think Blake is going to be on board with it while I’m carrying his child or anyone else’s, fully-functioning hippocampus or not.
Chapter Thirteen
Blake
It’s mesmerizing observing her sleep, and sort of creepy when you think about someone lying next to you, making sure your breathing doesn’t stop while running a fingertip over every reachable inch and listening to your heartbeat. Oh, and laying their head and hand on your stomach from time to time just to see if the baby you carry will react.
So, I’m creepy, because I sure as hell couldn’t stop myself from doing it, and I don’t think my kid sleeps.
Astrid hasn’t moved since I bathed her and rummaged around her luggage for something for her to sleep in. At least, somebody is sleeping around here. I can’t get back to it, since I jerked awake at three a.m., after dreaming I was a driver treading shark-infested waters. Yeah, I’m contributing that nightmare to the Powers, too. Watching Astrid nap isn’t the only thing I’m doing. Deliberating about what the parents will try today with my head operating on half a tank is the other. I’m tense and edgy. Gazing at Astrid and playing with the baby is my feel-better serum.
The trilling of her phone from her purse under the garment draped over the chair interrupts my stalker moments. She smiles in her sleep, opens her eyes, then flips over on her side. “Why aren’t you sleeping, baby?”
“Because, I can’t look at you if I’m looking at the back of my eyelids, baby.”
“You’ve been watching me sleep?”
“Yep, and playing with the baby. And I like doing it. And I like waking up to you two.”
Her shoulders bob and weave with her noiseless humor. “You know it’s usually even… hmmm… you almost got me.”
“Tell me,” I insist just to hear her talk. She’s already revealed when we usually wake up together, evening, and I can see us getting ready for work together. Yes, I actually see it.
“Uh uh. Remember, so I don’t feel like I’ve planted memories of us and have you because you don’t know any better.”
Now, this is a good woman who wants what she has honestly. Then her standing in the station in civilian clothes on her first day at ASD comes back to me. I’m not any happier about it now than I was then. Don’t want her facing down three burglars and maybe being bashed in the head. To lose her like that would make living not worth the effort. Still, I’ll do what she thinks is best for her.
Astrid’s face falls. Her hand strokes my shoulder. “Blake, what is it?”
; “A memory… of you, and lady, you would have me even if I never remember. You keep stealing my heart at first sight.”
She blinks rapidly, more moisture clustering in her eyes every time she does it. “Thank God.”
“Exactly.” I kiss her softly on the lips and back away, before scooting closer to her, wrapping my arm around her. “Now why is your phone’s alarm going off? What exactly do you have to do at seven in the morning?”
Her mood swings to grave, honey-hue pupils less lively. “Get ready for work. I have to be there at nine.”
I gulp down air. She won’t be here to see me leave with the Powers, or wait for me to come back to her at wherever she goes to from here. It hurts.
And it’s selfish to want her all to yourself, Blake.
What can I say? I’m spoiled after last night.
“Where are you working?”
“ASD.”
I get out of the bed to stand beside it. “How long has this been set up?”
She sits up. “Since I asked Councilman Alder to intervene with the hospital so the Owens and I could see you yesterday. Your parents and the hospital’s regulations would’ve left us standing at the front doors.”
“I believe you, but you should’ve lead with this at least when we got in here last night, if not when you got to my first room.” Behind my eyes, every moment of us battling to find common ground after I stupidly hid shit from her zoom in from every which way. “Keeping secrets is not good for us, Astrid.”
“I know. Didn’t want to ruin the night or set you off… like I’ve done.”
“Doesn’t make it okay. We’ve been through this before. I almost lost you because of shit like this.”
“I didn’t say it was okay, Blake.” She inhales loudly. “How do you know…”
I rap my temple with my index finger. “You seem to be my brain’s muse for wanting to work like it should, and going back to ASD without me is not alright with me.”
“Blake, I’m still a trained deputy.”
“I know that. I’m proud of it, but you working alone worries the shit out of me, Astrid, especially when you’re pregnant.” Here comes the part where I let her do what’s best for her, and I hate it. “I need to put on some clothes. The parents sent some at about six. Sasha didn’t like being their delivery woman either. Copper sent over my keys and phone and left my truck parked at my apartment, wherever that is.”
Astrid follows my movements toward the chair. “Jesus, Blake, don’t change the subject and leave this argument unfinished between us.”
“It’s not an argument, baby. We just agree to disagree about what you’re going to do, and I am—
“Going to walk away before we find a compromise. How does that solve anything?”
I stop in my tracks halfway across the room. “How do we compromise, love? I can’t stand even thinking about you being in danger out there by yourself. If someone even breathes on you…” It’s best if I don’t even go there right now.
“Blake, you listen to why Alder asked me to work at ASD again and—”
“And then I’ll magically understand and be completely fine with it? No. Astrid, baby, I have half a mind and I’m only half the man I think I was right now because of ASD.”
A flurry of the bed linen being pitched aside so Astrid can get to her feet much swifter than she should be able to do occurs. A very capable woman, with her chest puffing in and out rapidly like she’s trying not to spontaneously combust, stabs the air between us with her finger. “Don’t you fucking say that, Blake! Ever! You’re the kind of man that every man should aspire to be, even with most of the blanks in your head, and I love you and my father because of it! Now are you going to listen to me or just be all overprotective and shit?”
She’s too distraught for her and the baby’s welfare, and just as adorable as a kitten would be trying to take on a full-grown bear.
She’s still furious. You did it, so fix it, moron.
I’m trapping her front against mine before the thought has ran its course. She bearhugs me back, chin in my chest.
“I didn’t say anything, Blake, because I didn’t want you to be mad.”
“Hmmph, well, I am. Can you understand why?” She nods. “Now, tell me why Councilman Alder thought he should hire you without consulting me first… a-freaking-gain,” I huff.
Dammit, why can’t my past come back all at one time?
It’s frustrating to be in a critical moment when snippets of my life blast through me, like now.
She giggles. “Are you having flashbacks every second?”
“No, but it would be better if I was. Now, tell me about your deal with Councilman Alder.”
“He didn’t consult with you, Blake, because he can’t. You won’t even recognize him, and he doesn’t think it’ll be wise to just walk up to you and start talking shop. That’s why he rehired me. Yes, I can still go on calls if I want to, but Arrow isn’t a hotbed of crime. Deputy Miles should be able to keep the peace until you’re ready to. In the meantime, I’m the go-between for you and the council members, and hopefully I’ll get you back to a fully effective Sheriff. He doesn’t want to replace you, so I get to do for you what you did for me when I moved here, train you until it all comes back to you.” That, I can live with.
“Sounds like Councilman Alder has a good head on his shoulder. I’m so sorry for not hearing you out first. I should also confess that I had this idea that you’d stick by me until I was discharged, and then you could go to my apartment and—”
“Wait for you there,” she says snidely. Yeah, no she’s not going for that.
“Yes. I’m spoiled, Astrid. And you’re my everything, and everything is fine when you’re near, no matter what’s happening, but I’m still going to let you live your life. I just need you to promise me something though. No going on calls alone. If Copper isn’t available, you don’t go. Arrow may not be a hotbed of crime, but it’s picking up. The three dead men I woke up beside says so.”
“No calls alone. I can do that. We just compromised. How are you dealing with the shootings, Blake?”
“I’m not. It isn’t bothering me, and that’s probably because I don’t remember killing two men. I think if I did, I’d feel some type of way about it.”
“You would feel some way because you’d rather not hire any deputies, putting them in danger. Instead, you work two shifts alone. If you killed someone, it’s because they presented a real threat to you that you couldn’t fix without pulling the trigger. But the department has a psychiatrist that you’ll be required to talk to before being cleared for duty again. For now, we just need you to remember the officer’s conduct, codes, and how to operate as Arrow’s Sheriff again. And there’s no rush. Your term isn’t up for two years and you have me, standing right beside you even when I’m not.”
“We just made it through our first real argument, Astrid.” Peace washes over me. Everything is still as if it’s saving its breath in one of those instances when I should be kissing the hell out of her, so that’s what I do, until someone knocks on the door. Roughly against her mouth, I say, “Come in.”
Of course, she snickers against mine, laughing at me and not with me. I couldn’t care less. Baby Blake kicks the shit out of both of us, and makes her cackle harder. I’ll take that as he doesn’t appreciate the disturbance either. The door opens, admitting a couple. Two different shades of brown complexions complement each other from the cautious faces of the people. Their devotion for one another billows off them like smoke surrounding me. This is how I’m supposed to feel around family, loving. Definitely Mama O and Pops.
A plastic sack with takeout trays swings from Mama O’s hand. “Morning, Blake and Astrid.”
Pop echoes her sentiment.
“Morning, Mama O and Pops.” I release Astrid to embrace them both.
When I step back, Mama O dabs her eyes. “You remember us.”
I don’t. The last thing I want to do is disappoint them. “No, I don’t, yet, but I
recall your voices from last night. I’m sorry. I just thought it would be too proper to call you by your government names. I hope that’s alright, since you’re the ones that really raised me, right? I just got this feeling that you did.”
Pops sniffles, and lugs his wife into his side. “Your feeling is correct, Son, and Mama O and Pops is what you’ve always called us. Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Well, that’s great, because things were about to get really weird for us all… like wearing this gown with my butt out while meeting you.” The room fills with their amusement while I reach back, tugging the edges of the hospital gown closed. “Let me get dressed and we’ll spend a little time together before breakfast comes.”
Mama O extends the sack to me. “We brought breakfast. The first two trays are yours. We’re not going to stay long. Everyone wants to drop by at some point in pairs so you’ll at least get a glimpse of their faces.”
All kinds of faces come forth through the fog hanging over me. Mama O and Pops is one of them, and I’m not always a grown man when I see them.
“Thank you.” I take the bags from her hand, finally, and pass it on to Astrid, who foists them off on the bed.
“Go on, Blake. I’ll bring your clothes to you,” she offers, still in her frilly nightwear that covers her from neck to toe.
“Thanks. I really didn’t want to flash anybody. The gown is barely covering me, and Mama O might mistake it for me misbehaving and smack me in the back of the head for it just for old time’s sake. I have enough head injuries as it is.”
Tears stream down the cheeks of the only real mother I’ve known. “Still a damn clown even with Alzheimer’s at twenty-seven years old.”
“That’s Unk’s fault,” I point out.
Pops drapes his body over Mama O’s, his eyes reddening, as he swallows her small frame. I don’t have to tell him that my recollection of them is coming back. He seems to just know things. “I believe that, Son. You spent maybe too much time with Tommy. Now, go get dressed because we don’t have much time before two more members of your family show up before your blood relatives do, and we’d rather not be here for that. We might actually be escorted out of here by security next time.”
