by Amy Brent
“Thanks, McKenna. I was sure that you would disappear from the face of the Earth that day you quit. I appreciate that you tried to stay friends with me.”
“Of course. You and Davie were the only ones with me in a really stressful part of my life. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“It’s no problem. Really.”
She patted my thigh and it was a good feeling that passed between us. We exchanged smiles, but then I heard Gabriella let out a happy cry and all of my attention was on her. I think I had given Dom plenty of time for the past ten minutes and walked over to take her once again.
Dom, being the good brother that he was, didn’t complain, but ran over with his friends to eat some of the fruit, snacks and pizza that we had provided.
I held my Princess Potato, bouncing her on my hip as I looked over the crowd.
Everyone was eating and talking and playing games. Although I knew that Gabriella would probably never remember this, it would be burned into my mind forever. So much love, so much happiness. It really was a fairy tale come true. And I didn’t even need a glass slipper.
Smiling to myself, I continued to bounce Gabriella and took her over to the table, sitting right back in my seat and helping myself to a fresh strawberry. It was quite tasty, but I still dropped it when I heard a loud cheer from the small house and suddenly the door flew open.
It was Rafael, of course, because who else could it be? He was smiling broadly as he carried a massive cake on a platter, and so was Dom, who was trailing behind him with his own much smaller plate with a single mini-cupcake on it.
I laughed, clapping my hands, and so did everyone else, gathering around the table once more.
“Happy birthday to you!” Rafael started, and soon we all joined in, singing to Gabriella as we celebrated her first year on Earth.
She ate up the attention, of course. Giggling and clapping like the super star she was. Goodness, could she get any more adorable? Probably not. It seemed physically impossible.
The song ended, and Rafael placed the cake in front of me while Dom put the mini-cupcake next to it. I bounced Gabriella on my knee, her favorite motion, until everyone had their cameras and phones out.
“Alright, my little potato,” I said to her in sing-song. “Are you ready to blow out your candles and make a wish?”
She didn’t answer, of course, but there was only so much you could ask a one year old, no matter how smart and perfect she was.
“Mommy’s gonna help you, so take a big breath and-” I closed my eyes and exhaled, blowing out a stream of air. I could hear Gabriella laugh and clap, but then suddenly everyone gasped.
My eyes shot open, worried that someone was hurt, but I didn’t notice anything amiss.
That was, until I looked down, and saw both Rafael and Dom down on one knee before me.
I gasped, and I could already feel tears stinging my eyes. This couldn’t be happening… could it! No… but he was down on his knees in front of me and I couldn’t think of any other possible reason that he might be down there. But if what I thought was happening was happening, then why was Dom on the ground too?
“McKenna,” he said, pulling a small, red box from his pocket. I gasped again, and the sharp intake of air nearly made me hiccup. Oh my goodness! This couldn’t be happening! It couldn’t!
“Dom has something to say to you.”
Wait, Dom… what? But there was a red box in my face! Why were we talking about Dom. Not that I didn’t love him to pieces, but there was a time and a place after all.
I should have known better than to doubt them. If there was one the Barbos men knew how to do, it was present gifts with a flare of drama, and Dom proved to be just as adapt as he pulled a long, skinny, black velvet box from his pocket as well.
“You came into my life on accident, because my parents were in a fight and I just wanted to get away from it.” The little boy said, holding the box up to me. “For some reason you, a grown up, crawled under the table with me and started talking about all the things I liked. You didn’t think I was weird, you didn’t think that I needed to be more normal. You liked me just for me.
“Even though Daddy put you in a sort of scary situation, you still went to lunch with us. And then later, even though you were mad at Daddy, you still came over and hung out with me. You’ve been the best friend I could ever ask for, and a true mother.
“You’ve brought a little sister into my life and taught me how to be a better, smarter person. I never could have imagined my life could be so good. So please, would you officially be my mommy?”
He handed me the case and I took it, opening it hesitantly. My heart was already so full, I was afraid that it would burst at any moment.
The case finally opened, and I saw a beautiful necklace with the word mommy on it. But more importantly, it was wrapped around a tightly rolled packet of paper, and I gently lifted it from its place.
Unfurling them with shaking hands, I finally got to the first page and made out the first words.
“Adoption paperwork?” I breathed, hardly believing what was in front of me.
But Dom just nodded, looking at me with wide, uncertain eyes. He nodded slowly, as if he was scared of what I might say.
“Of course!” I cried, tears flowing for real now, unable to be contained behind my lids. “I will be your legal Mommy!”
He threw himself at me once more, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and cheers went up from all around us. It was hard not to break out into actual sobs, I was so moved by the love of my little boy. God, I really was blessed.
I was so swept away in the emotion, in the sheer joy, that I forgot about Rafael. I quickly remembered however as Dom stepped aside for him and I was once again looking at a red box.
It was so delicate, so red and velvety, and tied with a delicate silver bow. It was so pretty that I was almost afraid to touch it, even though I knew that it was for me.
“This past year and a half together has been amazing. Life changing. I knew from the moment I saw you in that uniform that you were incredibly, and that’s been proven over and over again. You are the mother to both of my children, and an amazing one at that. You’re my partner, thought thick and thin, and you’ve been with me through some of the most stressful court processes I’ve ever had t go through. I don’t want to live without you in my life for even a single second. “
He flicked open the box and then I was staring at the most beautiful ring I could ever imagine. It was two, winding bands, with a triad of jewels in the middle, all of them differently colored sapphires. I remember mentioning to him once that I thought diamonds were an overrated and ugly stone, but I never expected him to have remembered!
But of course, he did, because that was just like Dom. He was always so sweet, so thoughtful, and took legitimate pleasure in giving the best gifts he could.
“Miss McKenna O’Grady, will you do me the pleasure of being Mrs. McKenna Barbos?”
“Yes!” I cried, holding my hand out. “Oh God, yes, I do!”
More cheers all around and now I really was ugly crying. Someone took Gabriella from my arms and the next think I knew, Rafael was sweeping me up into a kiss, snot and all.
It was full of passion and love and all the things you could ever want, and when we finally broke me apart, he picked up all five ten of me and swung me around. I laughed, and I cried, and I laughed some more. Dom danced around us, shouting random variations of the word ‘awesome’ while I was sure that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
When Rafael finally set me down, we kissed again, and I realized that our fairy tale was really just beginning. I had thought I had the best that I could possibly have, but once again, Rafael was proving to me that I could anticipate so much more.
“I love you, Mr. Rafael Barbos.” I said, holding onto him with all of my might.
“And I love you, Mrs. McKenna Barbos. And I will continue to love you long after both of us are gone.”
“Good,” I sa
id, pressing another kiss to his cheek that was already slick with my tears. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
“I couldn’t ask for a better fate.”
I laughed again, happiness literally permeating every cell of my body. Now all I had to worry about was our wedding colors.
…maybe I should just let myself rest for a bit first. After, all, I had my Prince charming, what was the rush?
The End
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Coming up next, ‘Teachers’ Pet: An MFMM Romance.’
Enjoy!
Teachers’ Pet
An MFMM Romance
PART 1
I don’t want to be some guy’s wife. I don’t want to be some guy’s girlfriend. Hell, I don’t even want to be some guy’s friend.
I want to be one thing and one thing only.
I want to be Teacher’s Pet. And I know exactly how to do that because I have done it every year since high school.
This year, Holden Moss is the teacher I’ve chosen to share my bed and my body with.
He’s a professor actually, a grad school psyche professor that’s as much muscle as brains, just the way I like them.
And if his reputation is any indication, the good Professor won’t think twice about taking me up on my offer.
Who better than the faculty stud to teach this pet everything he knows about sex. It’s going to be a fantastic freakin’ year.
CHAPTER ONE: Judith “Jude” Allen
I was always super smart in school. I breezed through junior high and high school with straight A’s without ever cracking a book, and I had major universities across the country lining up to offer me academic scholarships.
I opted to go to Midwestern, which I chose because it was clear across the country and thousands of miles away from anyone who had a clue who I was. I loved the idea of moving to a new town and starting over. It would be like being reborn, being washed of my sins, leaving all the heavy baggage of my old life behind.
They say that when you go away to college, it’s a chance to reinvent yourself, start new with a clean slate, shuck off your past dirty deeds and start anew, and that’s exactly what I wanted to do. I had established a somewhat dicey reputation for myself in high school that I knew would weigh like a heavy chain around my neck if I chose to stay in Clarksford. The slut in high school becomes the slut in real life. That was not the life I would choose to lead. I was not ashamed of the things I’d done, but I didn’t want them following me around like a ball and chain the rest of my life, which would happen if I didn’t move away.
Going to Midwestern would give me a fresh start without a reputation, even if that reputation was well-deserved. Plus, Midwestern had one of the country’s best psychology programs. I wanted to be a psychologist, which required a Bachelor’s degree with a psychology major, then a Master’s degree. Maybe I’d even go all the way and get my Ph.D. and become a psychiatrist or a doctor of some kind.
Getting my Bachelor’s seemed like a million miles away when I first started, and even now, nearly four years later, there’s still so much more work to be done. So, for now, my sights were set on getting my Master’s degree within the next two years, which meant I would start the Master’s program in the fall, but could take classes over the summer if I chose to, and that would speed up the process. I hadn’t made the decision to take summer classes yet. I’d look at the curriculum when the time came to see if anything struck my fancy.
If I didn’t go to school over the summer I could pick up more hours working nights as a waitress at the Pink Pony, the off-campus dive bar popular with students and the “cooler” faculty members (yes, professors and students do fuck, shocking huh). That would let me stock away a little cash and blow off some steam at the same time. Plus, I got to drink and eat for free at the Pony because Duke, the fifty-something owner/manager, wanted to fuck me.
Hell, Duke wanted to fuck every girl who walked in the door, whether they worked for him or not. But he wanted me most of all because I made him want me. I knew how to manipulate a guy like Duke. I’d been doing it my entire life. I could make his pudgy dick hard with just one dreamy look or by running my tongue around my lips. A little shake of the ass, a little bending over in front of him, a little leaning down so he could see my tits down the collar of my Pony t-shirt. Duke was putty in my hands. Which was why he wanted my pussy on his cock.
Duke figured the way into a girl’s pants was through her stomach, not her heart. Even though his hair was shaggy and gray, and he was kind of greasy-looking, he was also kind of sexy in a “Sons of Anarchy” sort of way. And he made a mean bacon cheeseburger, so we’d just have to see how things progressed.
Anyway, within six years of leaving home I could acquire both my Bachelor’s and Master’s at the same school and graduate with honors. I could probably do it in five years if I really pushed myself. Then again, that would leave me little time for the fun things in life; those things that had driven me away from home in the first place, but all work and no play makes Judith a very sad girl.
Like me, lots of people who choose to study psychology do so just to try and figure out what was wrong with themselves. Yes, supposedly broken people study psychology hoping to fix themselves. I wasn’t entirely convinced that I was broken, far from it, but I wanted to know why I thought the thoughts I thought. Why did I do the things I did? Why did I say the things I said?
Broken people have broken thoughts and do broken things, some experts say, even when those things might be self-destructive to themselves or hurtful to others. It’s all about momentary pleasure, at least for me. I was not psychotic or psychopathic or sociopathic or misanthropic, but sometimes my brain commanded me to do things that I knew were not good for me, things that I knew would have negative effects on me and those around me, yet I did them anyway because they felt so fucking good. In modern terms, I was addicted to sex. In a single word, I was a nympho.
It was in asking myself why I did the things I did and why I thought the thoughts I thought and why I got extreme pleasure in things that a “normal” person might consider abnormal that got me interested in psychology and how the human brain works, more specifically, my brain.
I figured studying psychology would help me explain myself to me. To quote the therapist I had been seeing since I was fourteen-years-old, I had certain “personality quirks” that greatly affected my actions regardless of the consequences.
Why did I do those things? What the heck was I thinking? And the biggest question in my mind: who the fuck was I hurting? I mean, if it felt good and everyone involved got off on it, where was the harm?
Anyway, sorry, my mind tends to wonder when the subject of sex comes up, which, I my mind, happens often.
So, the original plan was that I’d be in school at least six years, or until the scholarships, money, and interest ran out. I tended to get bored easily, which was a symptom not of any disease. It was a tendency of someone with a high IQ, at least according to the tests I had taken in high school. I had a near-genius IQ. I could be anything I wanted, according to my guidance counselor. A doctor, lawyer, dentist, economist, scientist, president, whatever.
“You can be anything you want to be, Judith,” Mr. Curtis, the guidance counselor said as we met in his office after school toward the end of my senior year. Mr. Curtis was probably my dad’s age, though he was aging better than my dad. He had a thick head of black hair and more muscle than fat on his tall frame.
He was an assistant football coach, newly divorced, probably broke, sleeping on someone’s couch, spending money he didn’t have in bars trying to get laid. Poor Mr. Curtis needed a little light in his life. And I wanted that light to be me.
Mr. Curtis arched his dark eyebrows and gave me an expectant smile. “So, what do you want to be, Judith?”
“Jude,” I said quietly, my heartbeat starting to pound in my chest. I could feel my breasts swelling, juices pooling in my
cotton panties. I slid out of the denim jacket I was wearing and let it hang on the back of the chair. I gave him a slow blink and smiled. “Call me Jude.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. I wasn’t wearing a bra. My dark nipples were pushing against the thin white t-shirt like dark gumdrops. I caught him looking at them. He swallowed hard again.
“Um… okay, Jude… um… what would you like to be?”
Without skipping a beat, I stood up, closed and locked the door, then peeled the t-shirt over my head. Cupping my big tits in my hands, thumbs rolling over my stiff nipples, I licked my lips and said, “I want be teacher’s pet.”
* * *
I think my fascination—and lust for— teachers started in the eighth grade, specifically in Mr. Wheaton’s basic algebra class. I was thirteen or fourteen at the time and puberty was having a ball ravaging my body. I had always been a skinny kid, but over that previous summer my boobs had grown several sizes and red curls had started sprouting between my legs.
That was also about the time I started exploring myself with my fingers and anything else that was long and smooth and felt good going in and out, in and out, in and out, like my mom’s “neck massager”, which was really just a vibrator in the shape of a smooth tube.
It sounded like a diesel engine when switched on and had to be plugged into the wall, so I only used it when I was left alone. As soon as mom and dad would leave the house I’d grab that baby and head for my bedroom. I’d lock the door, plug it in, crank up the music, and go to work, driving myself over the moon and back again with wonderful electrical sex.
