Teddy Bear Sir (The Sloan Brothers Book 3)

by Willow, Jo

  “I need a moment alone with my wife.”

  I didn’t pause for a reaction, I kept walking until I reached the door to the bathroom. Turning the handle, I pushed her inside.

  Ayla’s eyes were huge and she licked her lips. I turned back to the door and engaged the lock before turning back. Her eyes were different. In the time it took for me to lock the door, her wide eyed expression of surprise turned to a hooded look of lust. We were finally on the same page.

  I waited for the questions or the anger. I waited for reasons to spew forth about how this was not a good idea with everyone seated not twenty feet away. I even waited for her to tell me that there wasn’t enough room. Not a word was spoken.

  She kept her eyes on mine while she reached for the button on her jeans. I snapped. I pulled her against me in a kiss so fierce I worried that I was scaring her. Then she started to respond.

  Her hands went to the back of my neck and she began to pull my hair while I growled my response, her mouth absorbing the sounds. I leaned down, skimming her jaw with my lips until I was close to her ear.

  “Face the mirror and lean over. We don’t have much time.”

  She didn’t nod or speak, she simply did what I told her to do. Something about this simple act of submission ramped my hunger for her up to an uncontrollable level that approached obsession.

  I moved quickly and she stayed silent. With barely enough room to maneuver, I tore at our clothing, removing impediments. Our breathing quickened as she watched me in the mirror. When everything that stood between us was gone, I slid against her and watched her eyes.

  Poised at her entrance I whispered, “Remember, not a sound”. Her eyes stayed glued to mine and I pushed roughly inside.

  Nothing prepared me for the intense rush of feelings that swept over me. My head fell back and I closed my eyes, staying perfectly still until I could gain some small bit of control.

  Ayla wasn’t having it. She pulled forward as best she could and then pushed back. My head shot up and my eyes focused once more on hers. This unexpected opportunity was affecting her just as much as it was affecting me.

  After that, nothing stayed even remotely sane. I started pounding into her and she jammed her fist into her mouth to absorb the sounds. But I could hear her. I heard every moan and whimper. I felt them and it urged me to move faster.

  This was perfection. This was better than every sexual experience I’d ever had rolled into one. This, had been worth waiting for.

  I feel quite comfortable speaking for both of us when I say that time stood still. We’d both waited a ridiculous amount of time for the experience we were sharing, unorthodox as it was. We’d spent too many nights in the same bed without this kind of contact or release and we were savoring it. Watching each other. Urging each other on. Our bodies perfectly matched, our appetites for one another driving us on. Time indeed stood still for us.

  For the pregnant woman needing to use the bathroom? Not so much.

  “Come on you guys, the baby is dancing on my bladder. I really have to pee!”

  “Mood killer”, I murmur and hurry things along. Ayla didn’t seem to mind in the least and gave as good as I was giving.

  When we were close, I placed one hand on her shoulder and one on the back of her neck. She nodded and closed her eyes.

  The ripple and squeezing sensations I felt drove me over the edge and my release was sudden and powerful. More powerful than anything I’d ever felt and I barely stayed upright as I felt my knees begin to buckle. Ayla’s head was thrown back and her mouth was open in a silent scream that made me wonder what her voice would sound like if she could release it. That was an audio fantasy I would definitely be exploring later.

  When I pulled her upright and wrapped my arms around her, holding her back to my front, we stared at one another in the bathroom mirror. I leaned down and whispered, “Are you okay?”, to which she replied, “I am now”. I kissed her temple and the pounding resumed on the bathroom door. We hurriedly dressed and when we agreed we looked reasonably kempt, I kissed her once and flipped the lock.

  The sight before us is one I hope to never see again. Eyes blazing and fists clenched, Dorothy stood shifting from foot to foot glaring at both of us.

  “I am six months pregnant, I now have a small person practicing dance moves on a bladder the size of a freaking walnut. There is one bathroom on this flying tube of death and you two can’t wait a few measly hours until we get home? Seriously? Get out. Now.”

  Her voice is low and menacing and I wonder how I never knew my brother’s wife had this kind of temper.

  We scurried by her, sheepish and apologetic, but she was having none of it. She stormed past us and into the bathroom. Before closing the door, she pinned me to the floor with a glare.

  “Are there any surfaces in here I shouldn’t touch?”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned towards her. I swear I saw a flame shoot from her ear and I leaned back again.

  “You’re perfectly safe Dorothy. I’m sorry, but it didn’t take that long...”

  Her lips curled into an evil grin that I’d only ever seen on her sister before she nailed me with a sarcastic comeback, so I was somewhat prepared.

  “Don’t apologize to me for your performance ineptitude, apologize to your wife.”

  She slammed the door and we heard the lock engage. I was floored by her scathing insult. I also admired her for being able to come up with it out of thin air. I was pondering whether or not that sarcastic wit was genetic, when I heard a muffled giggle behind me. I turned to find Ayla with her hands over her mouth trying desperately to hold in laughter, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

  I put my hands on her hips and pulled her roughly against me.

  “You think that’s funny do you?”

  She began rapidly nodding her head, unable to speak around the giggling.

  “You want me to show you how much stamina I can muster when I put my mind to it?”

  I watched her throat bob with a large swallow. I waited for her answer when I heard Dorothy’s voice from the bathroom.

  “Table it until you get home you two. This is NOT a flying love shack!”

  We both blushed and rushed down the short aisle to our seats. All eyes were on us, Deacon’s narrowed and menacing. Anything or anyone that inconvenienced his wife in any way was in the line of fire and it only added to the hilarity of the moment.

  Anton cleared his throat and caught my attention.

  “Seriously dude. First you steal my Elvis and NOW you steal my honeymoon? What the fuck Pierce?”

  I was about to reply, when I felt Ayla’s small hand on my arm.

  “Anton, Elvis is available for a price. And if a quickie in an airplane bathroom is your idea of a honeymoon? You’d better start working on your mad skills and strategy now homeboy. Somehow I don’t think Mel’ is going to be impressed.”

  As God is my witness, I kissed her passionately and thoroughly right there in front of everyone. My angelic wife defended me. She stood up to another Sloan (besides me) and showed him what was what. I’d never been prouder.

  I moved my lips to her ear and felt her shiver. I loved it when that happened. Her response to me always amazed me and I don’t think if I lived to be one hundred that I’d ever get enough of that.

  “You know that wasn’t the honeymoon, right?”

  She turned her head just enough to slide her nose along mine.

  “Every minute with you will be a honeymoon Pierce. I’d be happy if we could just lock the door at home and spend a week alone.”

  I leaned back and saw nothing but sincerity.

  “I love you so much Ayla.”

  “I know. That’s why I married you. I love you too.”

  We took our seats and ignored everyone else. Yes we still had to find Melody and Sean. Yes we understood that our lives would be a complicated mess for however long it took to accomplish that goal. But for right now and for the next few hours, we were safe. We were together. And for the
first time in my life, I felt an overwhelming love wash over me. For the moment, we were content.

  Chapter Eleven

  Contentment is highly underrated. I’m not talking about happiness, although the two can be connected, they can also be mutually exclusive. Case and point: Don’t we all know at least one couple that probably should have divorced years ago? They fight all of the time, but they seem happy to do so. They belittle one another and throw casual yet subtle insults around like endearments, yet they stay together. They’re happy.

  Then there’s the couple that know one another so well, they can practically order for one another in restaurants or finish one another’s sentences. They may not experience intense highs or lows, but they’re content. They’ve found their perfect match and they’ve settled in for the long haul. Almost sounds boring, doesn’t it? At this point, you might even be saying to yourself, “Sounds to me like they both need a good divorce and an online dating site”. Maybe, but I beg to differ.

  You see, the “happy” couple demonstrated above, will only be happy as long as there’s something rocking their boat. Whether it be something to complain about or something to get excited about, they need “something” to fuel their happiness. That makes happiness a potentially fleeting thing. They don’t have a relationship, they have a carnival ride. It’s an illusion that can go up in smoke at any time. Contentment will never work for them.

  The “content” couple knows the value of a soulmate. Someone that is so in tune to you, words almost become unnecessary. Conversations are carried on in smiles and knowing glances. They “get” one another. No drama, no long conversations talking about “feelings”, assumptions can be made and counted on. That’s what I was looking for and what I found in Ayla.

  Why am I schooling you in “Relationship Theory 101” ? Because I want to point something out.

  Anton and Melody go for “Happy”. Excitement, aggravation, melodrama - it’s all part of it.

  Ayla and I have settled into “Contentment”. There’s still that whole Dom/Sub thing that we need to work out, but we will. Give us time.

  Somewhere between the two, sits Deacon and Dorothy. They’re content with one another and Dorothy is as laid back as Ayla on most things. This is probably a good thing, because living with my brother could turn Mary Poppins into Hannibal Lector.

  We’re now halfway through the flight and my wife and I are no longer the topic of conversation. This suits us just fine, because it allows us to cuddle up and watch everyone else. I’ve discovered that this is a past-time that Ayla and I share a fondness for. People are strange. Family members are stranger.

  We lost interest an hour ago in the plans that Anton, Austin, and Chase are working on. They’ll brief us when we get home, there’s no need to hear it twice. The floorshow, is on the sofa. Deacon is trying to get Dorothy to lie down and put her feet up. Dorothy, is ready to stuff a copy of the SkyMiles magazine somewhere uncomfortable and private. Her lower back is killing her and her shoes are off, but that’s all the concession she’s willing to make. Deacon isn’t giving up.

  “Baby, just swing your legs onto my lap and I’ll rub your feet. What does it matter if your feet are on the table or on my lap? Let me make you feel better.”

  “Sloan, do you know what would make me feel better?”

  I knew he was in trouble when she called him by his last name. Which, incidentally, was also her last name. In the interest of entertainment, I didn’t point that out.

  “Tell me angel and it’s yours.”

  Nice touch Deke, but you just set yourself up.

  “I’d feel better if you’d shut the hell up and let me have some peace and quiet. I do NOT need my feet rubbed, my back rubbed, or my head rubbed. I do not need another glass of juice or another bottle of friggin’ water. I do NOT want to watch another movie or listen to that CD of Whale Songs again...”

  “Honey, the whale songs are supposed to relax you...”

  “Yeah? Well they don’t. They creep me out! Every time you put the damned thing on, I think about the ocean, which makes me think about water, which makes me have to pee, AGAIN! I am sick and tired of having to plan my life around the closest bathroom...”

  “Sweetheart, you need to calm down. You’re getting all worked up and it can’t be good for the baby. Here. Let me rub your feet.”

  I felt Ayla suppress a giggle and I looked at her pressed against my side. She looked up and whispered, “Oh no he did not just say that. Tell me he didn’t start it all over again.”

  I grinned at her and winked, then returned my attention to the walking dead that was Deacon. Dorothy was turning a lovely shade of pink that would quickly go red if he didn’t back off.

  This is Deacon we’re talking about.

  Ayla was closer to Melodie than she was to Dorothy, but she saw this thing escalating and must have decided that everyone had enough to worry about without having to deal with Deacons imminent demise. She nudged me with her elbow and I turned my attention back to her.

  “Pierce, go sit with the guys and see what’s going on. I’ll get Dorothy over here. Distract Deke and give her a chance to regroup.”

  It sounded like a plan to me, even though I didn’t feel like “being with the guys”. I wanted to stay with my wife. Wife. I wondered if I’d ever get used to that, but I had to admit that I liked it. No more serial dating while looking for, “the One”. I’d found “the One”. Finally.

  I was wandering the road to the future when I felt her sharp elbow in my side.

  “Pierce, go! He’s about to say something stupid again!”

  I chuckled and stood while she raised her voice to get Dorothy’s attention.

  “Dor’? Why don’t you take Pierce’s seat? We can talk baby stuff.”

  Dorothy couldn’t get off the sofa fast enough. I helped her up and while she was making her way to Ayla, I sat down next to Deacon.

  “So tell me big brother. Plan on doing this baby thing again?”

  Deacon ran his hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated breath.

  “She’s been acting weird since her last doctor’s appointment. Melodie went with her because I had a meeting I couldn’t reschedule. I believe her when she said she wasn’t mad about it, but something happened and she won’t tell me what it was.”

  I leaned in closer because it didn’t sound good and he looked genuinely worried.

  “You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you? She’d tell you if something wasn’t right with the baby. Wouldn’t she?”

  He waved away my concern like an annoying insect and I relaxed a little.

  “That’s not it. She’d be an emotional mess if that were the case. Besides, she wouldn’t keep something like that from me, I know my wife.”

  “Well, have you asked her? Demand that she tell you what’s going on?”

  He laughed and reached for a cup of coffee that had certainly grown cold.

  “Have you met my wife? There’s no ‘demanding’ with her, she’ll tell me when she’s damned good and ready and not five minutes before. But as you’re aware, I’m not known for my patience.”

  I leaned back against the sofa.

  “No, you’re not. So what are you going to do?”

  “What I’ve always done. Annoy the shit out of her until she’s had enough and blurts it out.”

  He shrugged and I looked at him slack jawed and unbelieving.

  “You mean you do this on purpose? You know that she’s ready to kill you yet you keep on doing it?”

  He turned his body and raised his eyebrows.

  “You think I’m stupid? Of course I’m doing it on purpose! It’s a tried and true method for us. She’d never kill me, she doesn’t even yell overly loud. After awhile, she gives me her, ‘you’re really pissing me off’ look, and then she just gives up and tells me what’s on her mind. I’m hoping eventually she’ll decide that we can eliminate all the preamble crap, but until then, this is how I get information out of her. How do you do it wi
th Ayla?”

  I shrugged at the obtuse question. In his own way, he was every bit as screwed up as Anton. How did I not see this?

  “I don’t. If she’s got something to say, she says it. I do the same. It’s easier that way.”

  “Oh I agree, but I don’t think the Lincoln women know what the word ‘easy’ means. If you don’t believe me, ask Anton. I’m pretty sure that ankle bracelet will be a permanent.... wait. Holy crap. I cannot believe...”

  He leaned across the small table and snapped his fingers in front of Anton, who was deep in conversation with Austin and Chase. All three heads popped up.

  “I hate to point out the obvious, but is Mel’ still wearing that tracking device?”

  Things became animated after that. All three started talking at once and the sound of frenzied tapping on keyboards took over. I glanced at the women and they were huddled in conversation. Ayla had her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. She knew something. Something big. Dorothy was holding her hand, dabbing at tears of her own.

  As much as I loved Melodie and was as concerned as the rest of the guys, I couldn’t help but want to be in on the little drama going on across the aisle. Something in their eyes told me that the news had to be happier than the news the men in front of me were blurting out.

  “Why won’t it capture?”

  “It’s waterproof, so it has to have something to do with interference of some kind.”

  Chase looked at the other two and declared, “She’s on a plane. That has to be it. There’s electronic interference and she’s not in a fixed location. Even ground transport can track her like a GPS”.

  Almost as a unit, they all sat back in their chairs, pondering what this could mean.

  Anton swiveled his chair to face Ayla.

  “Ayla, would he take her back to Boston?”

  Ayla’s head snapped up and she dabbed her eyes.

  “What? No. Two reasons. His father would kill him and he’s got Sean. He’s going to keep this mess as far away from his family as possible and he needs to ditch Sean. The minute he does, Sean’s gonna run for help. Tony’s well known in the city. He’s practically a local hero. He won’t risk his reputation like that.”