Everything goes quiet. Missy’s eyes search mine, pooling with tears as she licks her lips, and shakes her head.
“No, Sven. She’s not my sister…she’s my daughter.”
9
SVEN
I drive behind the Gremlin as we head to my house. Missy and Sweetie’s things in the bed of my truck. I focus on their figures through the back window, as mom and daughter ride together. Her mom. Missy’s a mom. It shocked me, but doesn’t change anything. If anything, it makes me feel more for Missy, for both of them. Missy and Sweetie have made me think about someone else for the first time in my life. I want to build a life with them, a family.
These thoughts have my anger defusing and I’m beginning to calm down. Ever since the war, I’ve had this problem with my temper. The problem is I have one and sometimes I get this surge, this need to fight, not physically, but a fight for survival. I try to keep it away and pushed down, but sometimes it comes up on me so fast, I can’t tamp it down before I lash out.
Pulling up the long driveway toward the loft, I sit in my truck with the engine off as I observe Missy taking Sweetie’s hand and kneeling as she says something to her right after they get out of the car. Sweetie looks around and I can’t tell what she thinks, but when she sees me watching them, she smiles and comes over to me.
“Later we can go across the street. There were some dragon footprints out there the other day,” I tell her as she takes my hand and looks up at me with a toothy grin.
Her little hand sliding into mine instantly cements my need to protect her and give her everything.
“I’ll come back and get your bags,” I say to Missy before beginning the walk up to the loft.
A few steps in and Sweetie begins to run up the rest of the way when she reaches the top landing she looks over the rail.
“Careful,” Missy says behind me.
I let Sweetie open the door and go inside first. She immediately runs up the steps to the bedroom and looks out the window across to the desert.
“I can give you guys the upstairs or I can talk to landlord, he lives in the house, he’ll give you some rooms-”
“We’re not moving in,” she interjects.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what to do, Sven. I’ve just taken Sweetie away from our family. I can’t move us in here and then you decide it doesn’t work sometime down the line. I just can’t,” she says shaking her head slightly.
Clearly, I understand her, but it hurts a little. I want them here with me. Still, I know her concern is for Sweetie and I respect her for that. And she’s right; I can say I want them with me, but I’ve never really lived with anyone, so I have no idea how hard or easy it is. I would feel like a total asshole if what she said did happen. Maybe I can’t handle that.
“Where you gonna go?” I ask. I see a hint of relief flash in her eyes at my reaction.
She doesn’t answer me, but wraps her arms over my shoulders and hugs me. Sliding my hands around her waist, I squeeze her tight in return.
“You understand, right? You’re not mad?” she asks.
“Not mad,” I tell her, petting the back of her head as she rests her cheek on my chest.
A sense of everything being okay comes over me, knowing she’s staying in Plantain.
“Let me make some calls, find you a place,” I say.
Her body releases a sigh, and I can feel some tension leave her body at my words.
“You did the right thing,” I say, leaning back and looking down at her.
She blinks up at me and I can see she wants to believe me, but it’s all still fresh and she probably still can’t believe she left. She looks over at Sweetie still at the window.
“You’re stronger than you think,” I reassure her.
**
I make some sandwiches for dinner, but take my food and go outside. Since they’ve come here, I’ve intentionally given them some space. I can only imagine what Sweetie is feeling and thinking, so I’ve just been keeping my distance. I’m working on my bike in the garage, the sun has set and the crickets are chirping as Jackson Brown plays softly over the radio. Over all this, I sense when Missy’s walked in. She’s standing behind me, just inside the garage door, looking at me.
“You wanna beer?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at her.
She nods and walks over toward the fridge, grabbing two beers as I clean my hands off with the rag tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. I take her in as she approaches, arm outstretched as she holds out the beer for me. Her hair is in a ponytail with the front of her hair hanging down beside her eyes, and she’s dressed only in a white cotton nightie. Her tits bounce with every step, the small pebbles of her nipples tenting the fabric. Her feet and most of her legs are bare because the material ends at mid-thigh. I take the beer and she walks past me to sit down on the stool beside the bench. She tucks one leg underneath her other leg and pushes the sleep dress between her thighs to cover herself. The opening of the beer cans is loud and cuts through the air between us. Our eyes meet as we both take a swig.
“Are we okay?” she asks after a long silence.
“Mhmm, why?” I nod with a swallow of beer.
She shrugs a shoulder. “With us not moving in, with me being a mom.”
Taking another drink, I nod again.
“Is there anything you wanna ask me?” she questions, raising her brows. I get the sense that she wants me to ask.
“Is her dad in the picture?” I didn’t realize this was something I wanted to know. But there it is.
“No.” she states, “It wasn’t anything between us, just a fling.”
I nod again, “Does he know, about her I mean?”
“No. Well, sort of.” She stops and shakes her head a little. “When I met him, it was at a party. Our parents were there and we just snuck off to talk. He was nice, we went out a few times but there was nothing there for me. Didn’t stop me from having sex, clearly. Anyway, when I found out I was pregnant, I went to this parents’ house to tell him. That was when he enlightened me that he was engaged and getting married in a few months. I never saw him after that. I never told my parents who he was. Gaye would’ve ruined the poor guy’s life. It just adds to the list of reasons why she hates me. No matter how much she pressured me, threatened me, it was my power over her, ya know?” she asks, looking up at me. She’d been staring off into the darkness outside the garage as she spoke. “Being pregnant is what broke me away from Gaye. I was no longer her doll, her perfect princess. I was tainted, unpolished, and I almost liked her seeing me that way. That was me, the real me, not perfect, but creating something perfect. My dad, of course, was supportive of me, convincing Gaye to let me stay with them and they could just pretend Kendall was theirs, that no one would know.”
It’s the first time I’m hearing her real name. Kendall. For some reason, maybe because I’ve become attached to this little girl, it makes me feel even closer to her.
“They sent me off to a home for un-wed mothers when I started showing. I think they told everyone where we lived that I was spending a semester abroad or some garbage. Then when I came back, no one questioned that my arrival was perfectly timed with my parents ‘adopting’ a baby.”
Her eyes dim, and she looks sad and regretful. This look prompts me to move toward her. I set my beer on the work counter and stand before her.
“I hated that people thought my breathtaking daughter was hers. When she started talking, Gaye made it a game to not call me mama in front of anyone.” A tear falls down her cheek and she quickly swipes it away before I can. “But what else could I do?” she asks looking up at me. “I couldn’t support her on my own, and working all day and night would mean I’d have no time with her.”
I pull Missy into me, her face tucking into my neck as I wrap my arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pulling away and wiping her cheeks with a shake of her head after a minute or two.
“Sorry?” I question.
“You don’t need me to dump all this on you. I just haven’t thought about this in so long and with all that happened today…I’m scared. And then here I am, you think you’re getting some free loving chick who can come and go…but I’m not.”
My hands run along the top of her head and I make a grunting sound for her to explain.
“I’ve never been on my own, never been just me as a mom. Gaye’s right, I don’t know how to take care of her. All our stuff is in Mississippi, I have no money for clothes for her, or food, I’m just scared I’ve made a huge mistake for Sweetie’s well-being.”
I look down and take her face in my hands, coaxing her to look up at me.
“Everything will be fine. Sweetie will be fine, you’ll be fine…you’re not alone here. I won’t let you falter. I have some money from the Army I can lend to you in the meantime, and don’t protest, it’s just sitting in a cigar box in my closet. I know you don’t want to commit to me or live here, but I want to help both of you, and that’s a big deal for me. I don’t expect anything in return and I won’t hold it over your head. I just want you to be happy and for Sweetie to be happy…and you can do this,” I tell her.
I can see in her eyes she’s struggling to accept the no-strings-attached offer. She wants to be independent and I get that. I get that everyone needs to find their footing at some point, and I think that if a kid weren’t involved, I might let her struggle a little more. That might seem mean or uncompassionate, but Missy’s strong and willful, she’d find a way. But then there’s that little boy in me, who knows how it feels to be alone and on your own. I don’t want to see her struggle if I can help it.
“No,” she tells me firmly. “I can do this, and…maybe I’ll fail, but I need to try. I need to know I can do it.”
I nod, and the corners of my lips turn up in a smile at her hard-headedness. My hands glide up to her face and through her hair, while she spreads her legs around my hips. Her hands move to my hips, her thumbs running under my shirt and touching bare skin. The feeling of skin on skin has me licking my lips and taking her face in my hands again, and then I lean down to kiss her. I’ve never been kissed like she kisses me. Not only is she skillful with her tongue, but it’s like she gives everything inside herself to me. Her body curls into mine as she cups my face and sighs in my mouth. When I pull back, she’s looking up at me, her lips wet and rosy. She’s like Aphrodite or some other goddess.
Reaching back, I pull my shirt off over my head. She looks at my torso, then runs her hands down my flesh, causing my dick to grow. I’m tan from working outside, and built from good genes and hard labor. I think I look okay, but the way Missy gazes at me, I feel like the most attractive thing she’s ever laid eyes on. She leans in and slowly places kisses along my collar bone, her fingers tracing the cuts of muscle along my torso. I’ve never been examined like this, or touched like this. Looking down, I watch her blonde head move across me and I push her hair out of the way to watch her lips and tongue taste my skin. I’m panting and moaning softly, swallowing thickly. Now my dick is hard and ready for her. My eyes flutter close as she moves up and begins kissing my neck, brushing my hair back to obtain better access. I groan and step closer, wanting my cock nearer to and inside her.
The stool screeches as I move her back unintentionally and she’s pressed against the work bench. My eyes open to her lifting the skirt of her nightie up before undoing the fly of my jeans, her soft little hands pull my length out. I inhale sharply as she positions herself and I realize she’s wanting me there, for sex and not just kissing or fondling. My instincts take over, the next thing I know, I’m kissing her hard and lifting her with my hands under her thighs. I kick the stool out from under her and rest her ass on the workbench. The stool clattering onto the cement causes a shock of sound and she startles in my arms from it.
Moving my hands up from her thighs, I cup her tits and massage them over the fabric as she gasps and allows me to kiss her neck. She pants and lets me fondle her. I don’t realize I’m manhandling her until the sound of fabric giving way snaps me back and I look to see I’ve torn the straps of her night dress; one is completely detached while the other hangs on by a stitch or two.
But none of that matters when I see her breasts freed, rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Her nipples are high above the heavy weight of her breast and longer than those of other women I’ve been with, which I realize now is probably from breastfeeding. I fucking love that, and I fucking love how they look- how she looks. I attach my mouth to one and she runs her hands through my hair as I roughly feast on her chest. I imagine her belly swollen with our child and wonder if I could taste her milk for myself. A carnal, feral emotion that has my hips pivoting, my cock searching.
And I’m lost. Lost in the feeling and the smells, the tastes and the sounds. My inner male is looking for more, for everything and I don’t realize I’ve positioned us so I’m entering her, until the first sensation of Missy’s hot liquid blasts over my cock head. I grunt as I penetrate, sliding all of myself into her and it feels so fucking good. She’s so small around me and I’d assume that maybe it hurts her, but the way her nails dig into my hips, urging me, her tongue plunging in my mouth with a moan, I think she doesn’t mind the snug fit.
“Is that good?” I ask, mostly to make sure I’m not hurting her.
“Yes.” she breathes out. “I’ve never had sex like this,” she confesses in punchy gasps as I bottom out in her.
“I asked if you were ready to be fucked by a man,” I remind her in my own broken speech. But no, I’ve never fucked like this either.
I’ve never fucked like I was claiming, branding. Like her pussy was my cock’s salvation. I knew though, since Missy, that I’d never be the same. She was like the first day of spring, the colors so vibrant you could smell them and feel them. Her colors were so radiant and alive. I fucked her harder hoping that some of that would transfer into me. She’d already brought me to life, reminded me I wasn’t dead the day I heard her singing. And this, this was just an extension, me being greedy and wanting all of what she was, what she is.
I know I love her. Love. Her. Maybe not like most people love someone, like if she only wanted this and it was for just now, I’d still love her. Love that wouldn’t end even if we did. But I love her for saving me when she didn’t know I needed being rescued. Love her for making me look at the future. Love her for reminding me I could be loved and give love. Even if nothing came of us, if this was it and a physical connection was all she got from me, I’d love her for the rest of my life.
“Sven,” she pants, her fingers clawing into my torso as I come back to myself and realize I’m bucking into her fast and hard, so hard the workbench’s shaking and on the verge of breaking.
My body pauses, my breath pounding into her face as I open my eyes to see hers shut and the slight, glimmering track of a tear below one eye. Her body’s shaking, her thighs pressing against my ribs tight and snug as I cup her face.
“I-” the apology for the getting-lost-in-my-head thing I do, cut off as she pulls me closer with her hands now on my hips.
“Keep going,” she pants, her eyes blinking open. “Don’t stop. It just started to get too hard,” she tells me.
Her lips meet mine and she begins kissing me, coaxing me back into what we’re doing, to shut my brain off and just be with her. I move again, thrusting in a steady rhythm, my eyes watching her face as the sensations move through her. Plump lips part as she vocalizes how I make her feel. Cupping the back of her head, I turn her face to press mine into her cheek, my hips moving faster as I gaze down to watch her tits sway and bob.
“Yes, like that,” she moans, her tongue licking her lips, her hands moving to cup the underswells of her heavy breasts. She keens and purrs as her hips swivel and somehow the flesh encasing my dick squeezes tighter.
“Knulla…vacker, sa bra…knulla,” I groan in incoherent Norwegian garble as I come inside her unexpectedly. My hips slam hard two times before slowing and the orga
sm waves over and through me.
Her body still clings to me, and once the last drop of semen’s left me, I sink to my knees and bury my mouth in her folds. Not caring I can taste me, it’s us, both of us and I’d do much worse just to see the look on her face, high, elevated, drugged. She’s mystical and ethereal, like a figure appearing in the mist, something other worldly. And it’s me that’s put that look on her face. Her hand snakes through my hair to hold my head between her thighs, her legs lifting off the workbench.
“Sven,” she moans. “I love when your mouth touch me there,” she says in a breathy, gasping intake of air. “Do we taste good together? Can you taste me and you? I want to taste it,” she tells me and I feel my cock begin to firm.
Fingers plunge inside her, her fingers and mine. Dipping and brushing, my tongue meeting her little fingers as we both touch her. I watch again in fascination as she raises those fingers to her mouth, her lips parting as she suckles her drenched tips. She moans and her eyes flutter closed. She’s unreal, and she’s mine. My thumb slides up above my mouth to the bundle of flesh between her lips and I rub, circle, and pet, teasing her as her muscles loosen and tighten around my fingers. The fingers in my hair claw at my scalp as she pulls my hair, grinding her pussy against my mouth and comes. Magic. Pure, magic.
10
MISSY
The next morning, I leave Sweetie with Sven as they plan out a day of dragon hunting. Sven had called Joseph early and was told the work on my parents’ house was postponed and they didn’t need to go today. I wanted to find out what my parents planned to do. I assumed with my dad’s business sense he’d finish the house and sell it as he’d originally planned. I also wanted to know if Sven was out of a job. But then I also wondered if my mom would fight my dad to leave the house as-is and put it up for sale, so they could go back to Mississippi. That would be the easiest for me. Not having to worry about running into Gaye in town or her trying to take Sweetie would be a relief. Not that she could legally take her or anything. I was Sweetie’s mother on her birth certificate and her sole guardian.
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