by K. C. Crowne
I groaned, thinking about the way his tongue had flicked at my clit. I had an orgasm just from him going down on me; he was that good. My legs almost gave out, yet he held me against the wall, drawing out the pleasure until I couldn’t take it anymore.
He’d picked me up and carried me to the couch. I straddled his lap and felt his manhood against me. I rubbed against him like I was rubbing on the pillow now, dry humping him and nearly climaxing again from just the teasing alone.
And when he slid into me, it hurt for only a second. My body adjusted to his thick cock, stretching around him until he was sheathed deep inside. Never having sex before, I merely did what felt good at the time - I rocked back and forth, grinding against him as his cock filled me.
Jack grabbed my ass and slowly began moving me up and down. I rose and then slid back down. Faster and harder, my movements became more desperate as Jack kissed me deeply.
I came, screaming into his mouth. His hands held me in place, keeping the rhythm when my own body failed me.
As soon as that orgasm subsided, we switched positions. He had me every way possible - bent over the arm of the sofa, my ass in the air as he fucked me from behind, then finally, on top of me, staring deep into my eyes as we came together. His throbbing cock took me by surprise, and I came harder than I had ever come in my life, my pussy milking him of every last drop.
Just thinking about that orgasm pushed me over the edge again. I tried not to cry out too loudly, but the pleasure ripped through my body, leaving me a shuddering mess on the bed.
I relaxed back into the mattress, my legs shaking from the aftershocks.
It was good, yes, but nothing would compare to the night our son was conceived.
Nothing I did would ever come close to feeling as good as when Jack was fucking me.
My eyes grew heavy; I was very relaxed. The argument with my dad and all the drama with Jack was out of my mind as I drifted off to sleep.
I dreamt of Jack, imagining I was curled up beside him like that night at his place.
Jack
The Liberty Municipal Library was the oldest building in Liberty, and it hadn’t seen much in the way of remodeling since the 1980s. It was desperately in need of repairs, and as luck would have it, I was in need of work. It didn’t pay much, which was why I got the job in the first place.
No one in Liberty would hire me. I’d done some odd jobs outside of the town, where people didn’t know my name. But this was the first job in the city limits. I hoped it would bring in more work, prove to the locals I wasn’t like my dad.
Except, of course, I had my own secrets.
Marcy Christopher, head librarian, was eating her lunch outside. She scowled at me often over her sandwich, keeping an eye on me. She was in her mid-50’s, friends with Cassie’s folks, and like many people in their circle, thought I was a low life. It was clear she wasn’t the person in charge of hiring me.
“Someone came in asking about you,” she announced.
I believe those were the first words she’d ever said to me. I looked around to be sure she wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” she said snidely. “Who else would I be talking to?”
I shrugged. “What did they say?”
“Not much. Just asked if Jack Wiley worked here, and I told them no.” She looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You don’t officially work here. You’re just an independent contractor.”
“Did they leave a name?”
“Afraid not,” she said, taking another bite.
I walked over to the fence and began painting it, turning my back on Marcy. I was facing Smothered in Love, the local diner, across the street. Something caught my eye in the window. Three men were sitting in a booth, all looking at me.
Normally I’d just brush it off. People in Liberty tended to stare when I was around. They’d whisper under their breath as I walked by. That was normal for me these days.
Except these men weren’t locals.
In a town the size of Liberty, everyone knows everybody. I’d never seen these men, at least not until recently. And I’d been seeing them around a lot lately. Not all at once, usually just one or two here and there.
They were big guys, all of them with darker hair and beards that concealed most of their jaws. They looked similar enough to be related, and I wondered if they worked together. If they were part of the “family,” so to speak. I had half a mind to walk over there and ask them what they wanted.
But before I could do that, my burner phone buzzed in my pocket. I stepped further away from Marcy, moving to the back of the building, where the parking lot was empty.
I answered before it went to voicemail. The man on the other end didn’t even bother to say hello. His voice was concealed, scratchy.
“I have a job for you.”
“Alright, send me the details.”
“You’re not gonna ask me what it is? You’re just gonna agree to it?”
“Would you tell me even if I asked?”
“Probably not,” the man said, chuckling dryly. The sound sent a shiver down my spine. “But most people ask.”
“I’m not most people.”
“And that’s why I like you, Jackie-boy.”
I cringed at the name, the same name my father used to call me when he wanted something.
“I’ll send over the details,” he said.
I thought about the men at the diner. “I actually do have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you having me followed?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack.”
“Yeah, right,” I muttered. I ran a hand over my beard. I didn’t know why I thought he’d be straight with me.
Hank Gillespie wasn’t straight with anyone. He only ever spoke lies, and he was damn good at it too. Good enough to become a Utah state representative.
Not that I was supposed to know any of this. As far as Hank was aware, his identity was still a secret. Very few people knew who he was, only those high up in the organization. Like my dad, who couldn’t keep his mouth shut once he got some whiskey in him.
Hank hung up without saying goodbye. He wasn’t a man for formalities, not when it came to this part of his life. When he was on the debate stage, it was a different story. He could woo just about anyone with his charm and smarmy grin.
Few people got to see this side of him. And usually, those that did ended up dead like my father.
I put my phone away and went back to the fence. I only had a few more spots to finish up, and I glanced back at the diner.
The men were gone.
I finished my work on the fence and decided to cut out early. Hank had sent over the meeting location and told me exactly what I needed to pick up. $540,000. An odd number, but I didn’t ask questions. I just needed to make sure it was all there and deliver it to the next person in the chain of command.
Easy peasy, I thought to myself as I walked over to Smothered in Love.
I knew the men were gone already, but I still checked every booth in the place, hoping maybe I’d catch one of them alone. No such luck. I slid into the same booth I saw them in earlier. Felicity James, the owner of the diner, waltzed over to my table, a smile on her face.
“Hey, Jack. There were some guys in here looking for you,” she said, her smile wavering a bit. She placed a glass of water in front of me along with a menu. “They looked a bit rough. Is everything okay?”
My stomach dropped, but only because Hank was getting others involved in his little game. Felicity had always been kind to me, and I didn’t want to see her brought into this shit.
“Yeah, just some old friends,” I lied easily. “I ran into them, said they stopped by.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, seeming to feel a bit better. “Do you need a minute to look over the menu, or do you know what you want?”
I handed the menu back to her. “I’d like the chicken fried steak and eggs platter, please.”
“Just a Coke, please.”
“Coming right up, darling,” she said with a sweet smile and headed toward the back.
I stared out the window and groaned inwardly when I saw a familiar face walking toward the door. Cassie’s mom, Jeanie, walked in, Tammy Henderson, my high school history teacher, and her best friend, at her side. I dropped my head and hoped they didn’t see me, but the clacking of heels grew louder until Jeanie Lorenzo was standing right beside my table. She cleared her throat, and I looked up at her.
“Jack, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened at our house the other day.”
I leaned back in the booth, cocking an eyebrow. That wasn’t what I expected to hear from her. I stared at her, in shock, unable to find the words to acknowledge her apology fast enough.
“I know, it comes as a shock,” she smirked.
No shit, I thought to myself.
She took a deep breath, then let it out. “Since you’re the father of my grandbaby and all—”
“What did you say?”
“Cassie told us. You’re the father of her child,” she said, speaking louder.
Dammit. I closed my eyes and let out a low whistle, feeling my insides tighten into knots. I opened my eyes and glanced around the diner. It felt like all eyes were on us. Maybe I was imagining it, but it sure as hell felt like everyone was listening in now.
I did the only thing I could think of at that moment. Deny it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, staring blankly at the two women. “I was never involved with Cassie.”
Jeanie stared at me, her mouth open wide, but no sound came out. Tammy grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her to another booth, one on the other side of the restaurant.
Felicity came by with my drink.
“I’m sorry, but do you think I could get my meal to-go instead?”
“Of course, darling,” she said. “Just give me one second, alright?”
“Thanks, Felicity.”
Jeanie Lorenzo stared daggers at me from across the restaurant. Maybe she knew I was lying. But Lord, help me, please let everyone else believe it’s true. At the very least, it would give the impression I didn’t care about her and the baby.
Which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Cassie
“Cassie, please reconsider leaving,” Isabelle said. She heaved my large suitcase into the trunk of my car. She was helping me pack for my return trip to Philly as she simultaneously begged me to stay.
“Dad made it perfectly clear that if I stay, I have to abide by his rules,” I said. “I’m a goddamn adult, and I’m not denying the father of my child an opportunity to know his son.”
“You know Dad. He reacts, says things he doesn’t mean, but he’ll come around. He always does.”
I sighed. “I don’t think he’s gonna change his mind this time, Izzy. He and Mom have never liked Jack. This is just too much for him.”
“But you need us right now, Cassie,” she cried. “You’re having a baby, and you’ll be all alone in Philadelphia.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I’d planned to stay up there anyway until Dad had his heart attack. I think it’s better this way. I can maybe work at the school, gain some experience, and make connections to help in my career. I still plan to finish school, once the baby’s born.”
“Why can’t you finish school here, in Utah?” Isabelle put the last of my bags in the trunk and closed the hood. She leaned against the car as if trying to keep me from leaving.
“Because I don’t belong here, Izzy,” I said, a touch of sadness in my tone. “Dad made it perfectly clear. I’m not welcome here. I still have my place in Philly, and I can continue with classes. I’ll figure it out.”
A sharp pain shot through my pelvic region. I cried out, and Isabelle rushed to my side.
“What is it?”
It took me a minute or two to catch my breath, but as soon as the cramping stopped, I answered my sister. “Just some Braxton-Hicks,” I mumbled. “I had a couple this morning. My doctor said it’s normal.”
“Are you sure it’s Braxton-Hicks and not the real deal?”
“I think I would know if I’m going into labor, Izzy,” I said with a laugh that didn’t sound as confident as I’d hoped.
“And even if it is, do you really think you should be driving?”
She had me there.
“No, you’re right. I’ll give it some more time, maybe head over to Madison’s and—” I stopped mid-sentence as another pain ripped through my insides. I crumpled over, leaning against the car for support.
“Isabelle? What’s going on?” Mom’s voice called from the front porch.
“I think Cassie’s in labor.”
“I’m not in labor,” I said, speaking each word slowly through the contraction. “It’s just—”
Before I could finish, I felt a warmth rushing down my legs.
Isabelle cried. “Her water broke! Call an ambulance!”
“I’m not—” I wanted to keep saying I wasn’t in labor, but the proof was right there in front of me.
I was only thirty-six weeks along. The baby could be born healthy at thirty-six weeks, but I still felt it was too soon.
I crumpled and cried out in pain as the world around me blurred. Everything seemed to be moving both too fast and too slow, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening.
My dad wasn’t home, so it was just my mom and Isabelle. They were shouting back and forth at each other.
“Call an ambulance!” Isabelle yelled.
“We’ll drive her. It’ll take too long for them to get here,” my mom countered.
“You think we can get to the hospital faster?” Isabelle asked as my mom took my arm, trying to guide me to the car. She dialed 911 and spoke rapidly into the phone.
“I’m not sure I’ll make it, Mom,” I said, my legs shaking underneath me.
“Alright, sweetie, take some deep breaths,” she said. “Lean against the car and me if you have to. It’s going to be okay.”
I sucked in several breaths, trying to ease the pain that I thought was coming too fast. After a few minutes, I heard sirens in the distance and prayed they were for me. Isabelle was still talking to the dispatcher. “I think they’re close now.”
“That was fast,” Mom commented.
Not fast enough, I thought to myself. It still felt like an eternity before they arrived on our street. I was hit with another wave of contractions just as the EMT’s hopped out of the ambulance and rushed over to me.
“It’s gonna be okay, honey,” my mom said, stroking the hair back from my face.
I was dripping in sweat, the hair clinging to my flesh. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it as the pain ripped through my insides.
The EMT’s managed to load me into the ambulance. I wasn’t much help at all. Even between contractions, I was panicking. My body was shaking, and I could hardly walk. This is it, I thought to myself. I’m having this baby.
Please God, I begged, let my son be okay.
Owen Jackson was born not even two hours after arriving at the hospital. He was ready and eager to make his appearance in the world. His lungs were mostly developed but still needed more time. He was jaundiced as well. He would stay in the NICU in an incubator until his lungs were healthy enough for him to breathe on his own.
Seeing my little boy with oxygen tubes and IV’s nearly broke me. I cried, wondering if I was somehow at fault for him coming a month early. The stress with my father and Jack might have pushed me into labor, or perhaps it was something I did or didn’t do.
Even though my parents and Isabelle were with me, I felt so alone. I wanted Jack to be there to see his son. But it wasn’t going to happen, nor was it a good idea.
My father had shown up after Owen was born. He’d been working out of town when he got the call. I didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t say much to me either. The ten
sion was still there, and I feared it would continue to weigh heavily over us until we addressed it.
But hours after delivering my son, I wasn’t in the mood.
Madison and Hannah showed up as soon as I was allowed visitors, and I felt guilty as hell that Madison was my son’s aunt and didn’t know. I’d been so scared, and every time I thought about telling her that her brother was the father of my child, I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t want her to have to keep that kind of a secret from her brother.
And now didn’t feel like the right time either. Especially since Jack had told me not to tell anyone. I assumed this included his sister.
Madison and Hannah were cooing over how adorable Owen was. They’d bought me some gifts - baby clothes and toys, along with a bouquet of flowers and a balloon for me. Attached to the flowers was a card that included a gift card for a spa day.
“Like she’s gonna have time to go to the spa,” my mom scoffed. “She’s a new mother. She’ll be lucky to get sleep.”
I knew she meant it as a joke, or maybe she didn’t. I tried to brush it off as I thanked my besties for the gift.
Madison interjected, however, “Well, good thing she has two best friends who’ll be more than happy to watch that adorable bundle of joy anytime she needs us to. In fact, I think Zoey would enjoy the company.”
Zoey was her daughter - Owen’s cousin - who was nine months old. The two of them could grow up together, and I knew Madison would be ecstatic to find out that they were related. Someday when the time was right.
Isabelle piped up. “And if she’s staying in Liberty, I’ll be happy to help too. She doesn’t have to raise him alone.”
My father, who’d been quiet until this point, finally decided to speak. “Yeah, well, it would be nice if the father actually helped, but I don’t suppose that’ll happen.”
The room went quiet, likely out of shock. But only for a moment.
Madison, who’d always had issues with my parents, spoke up. “You really shouldn’t talk to your daughter that way.”
My dad glared at her. “Maybe tell your brother to get his ass over here and take care of his child, like a real man.”
