by J. C. Allen
What is going on, indeed. I took a deep breath and recapped everything that had happened since the conclusion of the wedding, even if Rosella already knew it. I found myself constantly lavishing praise upon Matthew, as much for his sex skills as his warm heart. I knew I was being unusually explicit, but I couldn’t help it!
And besides, I’d overheard more than a few things with her and Simon. It only felt right that she had to hear a little bit about Matthew and I.
“Seems like you’re really into him,” Rosella said with a soft smile.
“I would say so,” I said. “What’s there to not like? He’s a gentleman. He helped me in a really tough moment. He’s great in bed. You know? What more could you want out of a man?”
“Put like that, that may be fair,” Rosella said. “Just be careful and take your time. You don’t want to be rushing into anything. Especially since he’s your first, right?”
I nodded. I suppose I was getting a little caught up in it all, and I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I knew a lot of people would have said that I was young and that I needed more experience before I could safely say that Matthew was the one or even just a potentially great boyfriend, period.
But… if I was having those thoughts, there had to be some validity to them, right? I couldn’t have just had those thoughts out of thin air. I was a bit awkward and weird, that was true, but I wasn’t some total nutjob. I was generally cautious about my actions and what I got myself into. Matthew had a spell on me for a reason, and it wasn’t because he was abusive or manipulative—it was the right kind of spell on me.
“He is,” I said. “But… he’s great, Rosella. You know? He doesn’t abuse me. He doesn’t play games with me. He doesn’t try and talk me down to make himself feel better.”
Simon walked in to grab a beer but tried to make it so he wasn’t facing us, as if that could prevent him from overhearing us. Of course, I knew he had probably listened to everything we said, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I didn’t have anything bad to say about Matthew, anyways, so it didn’t matter what he heard.
“I know. But these things take time, Grace. Do as I say, not as I do, OK?”
“She’s just sick of being with a Kinsmen!” Simon cracked from the entrance to the kitchen.
“Simon!” Rosella snapped.
Simon left the room, laughing. Rosella just shook her head, though I was a little surprised to see it wasn’t with a smile.
“Everything all good?”
“Oh, yeah, I just think two weeks with anyone is an easy way to get frustrated,” she said. “Just had a little tussle about food on the way home, but I’m not worried about it.”
Just like I’m not worried about Matthew, Grace. And you shouldn’t be either.
“Just… for the sake of your best friend, make sure that you’re smart about things, OK? And even if you want to have sex with him and get serious with him, talk to me first, OK?”
I nodded. There was little doubt that I would do such a thing. Rosella was my only friend, and therefore my only outlet for these kinds of things.
But, honestly, there was also little doubt to me that I’d be having that conversation with her very soon.
“I promise.”
Simon was courteous enough to drop me off back at Matthew’s house after Matthew had driven Michael and me over, leaving me without a ride.
If there was a fight between him and Rosella, he didn’t seem to show it all. In fact, Simon seemed the least stressed of anyone I was around those days that wasn’t Matthew. I was beginning to think that Rosella’s natural combative personality had gotten to her a bit on the honeymoon, and things would be fine within a couple of days.
That, and sex had a way of solving a lot of issues like that.
And speaking of…
When I walked into Matthew’s house, I saw him eating at his kitchen table without a shirt on. By now, seeing him without a shirt had become old hat; I think I would have been more surprised if I’d walked in on him with a shirt than without.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the hell out of what I saw.
And that definitely didn’t mean that I couldn’t touch what I enjoyed.
I waltzed over to the kitchen table, sat on his lap—pushing the table back in the process—and wrapped my arms around him.
“Wouldn’t you rather eat something besides pizza?” I growled, nibbling on his neck and cheek.
“I mean, when you put it like that…”
He was taken aback by my aggressiveness. And that wasn’t something that wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. I was too horny—he’d unlocked the sexual side of me that needed satiating.
I reached down for his cock and stroked it, my hand reaching under his boxers. Matthew groaned as he tried to kiss me, also nibbling on his cheek. I was too charged, though—I needed to have something better than that. Either I needed sexual pleasure, or I needed to give it more.
“Here, you know what,” I said, gently moving to the ground. “Keep eating the pizza. I’m the one who’s hungry for you.”
“I—”
But before he could speak, I yanked his boxers down, taking a beat to admire his full-mast and stiffening cock. Then, immediately, I leaned forward, stuffed him in my mouth, and slurped and sucked as he groaned, tossing his head back. He probably wasn’t going to concentrate on getting a bite more of pizza in, but tough shit. I think he would survive it.
I sucked and stroked simultaneously, getting off from the feeling of him getting pleasure almost as much as myself. It was an utter delight to have this much control over him, and I think it was something I had severely underestimated. Sometimes, I was so awkward that there were parts of me I didn’t necessarily want to admit to.
But right now, one thing that seemed pretty evident was that I wanted to control Matthew’s pleasure. I wanted to be the giver, I wanted to be the controller, and I wanted to be the source of it all. It sure felt pretty damn good to be able to do all three.
I think I was almost too good, though, because after just about a minute or two, Matthew stood up, grabbed my shoulders, and pulled me up to him. I went to kiss him as his fingers explored my pussy, sliding in and out before getting a grip that had my head tilted toward the ceiling, gasping and moaning in pleasure. It sure was pretty nice to not have to worry about Michael in here—we could be as loud and as aroused as we wanted to.
This only lasted a few moments, though, before Matthew suddenly spun me around, pushed me against the table, and inserted himself. He grabbed my hair, arched forward, and slammed me like he never had before.
Maybe it was the suddenness of it or the novelty of having sex in an open area. Maybe it was just the conversation I had just had with Rosella that was making me feel a certain way. Maybe it was just the natural progression of our sex life.
But this sex, right here, this was some of the best sex I had had to date. His raw skin inside of me, with the angle of being behind me, was digging almost painfully deep. I grabbed whatever I could on the kitchen table as I all but cried in pleasure—it was so good I could barely contain myself.
Orgasms during this particular sexual experience weren’t something that were built up to—I mean, they were, but they came so hard and so frequently that it felt more like the norm that we were in rather than anything else. It was surreal being able to come so often; just a month ago, I’d believed that I’d only be able to come regularly.
And now, here I was getting railed and orgasming over and over again.
Matthew followed suit a few minutes later; I could feel his hot seed pump and rush deep into me, a feeling that gave me immense satisfaction. I turned to look at his perfect torso and abs, as well as his face writhing in pleasure. It was a mental snapshot that perfectly defined who he was for me—the perfect man, willing to give me the perfect pleasure.
What more could I ask for?
When Matthew finally did pull out, I turned and leaned up to kiss him. He wearily kissed me, laughi
ng as he did.
“You know, I figured we’d have sex at some point tonight,” he said. “I definitely can say I did not expect it to happen while I was eating pizza.”
“Aw, did I catch you off guard?” I said with a smirk.
Matthew laughed and held my eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
It was just as well, though. There wasn’t anything to say right then. Words would have failed the connection that I felt to him at that moment.
It was so deep, so nice, so real… it was like we had finally achieved full connection.
Admittedly, in that moment, Rosella’s words were ringing in the back of my head. Her advice to take things slow was like an alarm clock in the back of my skull, the thing you didn’t want to hear but the thing that you needed in order to move forward with your day.
But, to continue the metaphor, I just hit snooze. I could handle that later.
“Yeah, just a little,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not complaining, though. That was dope sex.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Can you promise to do me like that again?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, my pizza is colder than it was a few moments ago, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I do—”
“Shut up,” I said as I leaned forward to kiss him once more.
You’re too perfect, Matthew. Too damn perfect.
“OK, fine,” he said, playfully rolling his eyes. “Yes, I promise.”
“Good,” I said.
And even if you don’t, whatever we do, it’ll feel just as good. I’m sure of it.
Two weeks later, I was sitting with Rosella at lunch, relaxing as I tried to shake off a little bit of a headache. I had started to get the headaches more frequently, as well as some other weird signs, in recent days. I didn’t think it was anything much and didn’t go for any meds, but it was something that was catching my attention.
And, apparently, Rosella’s.
“You look green.”
“I um, feel green.”
I moved the bread away as its scent made my head spin. That was a new sensation—I hadn’t been a bread fiend before this moment, but it was definitely more noticeable now than before.
“Maybe just get some ginger ale?”
I looked over at Rosella with her concerned look. All this time later, she still looked as happy and refreshed as I had ever seen her; it was like the sex she was getting from Simon was having the same effect Matthew’s was on me—making us feel relaxed.
Well, minus today. But today was the exception that proved the rule, not anything to worry about.
I hoped.
“No, I’m okay,” I said. “I’ll just watch you eat. It’s just my period coming. You know I have bad ones.”
“But how was the last one? I thought they got better.”
That was true, but I figured that the stress with my parents—something I hadn’t been able to easily shake in the two weeks since—was affecting me. I figured in due time, it would pass. Either we’d finalize our separation, or we would somehow make the peace, but for right now, I just needed time.
My mother hadn’t called since that particular day, leading me to believe that she had already decided she was going to leave me behind for good. I knew my father wasn’t going to give up so easily, which was both a source of happiness and frustration. I was beginning to realize that the things I pushed down didn’t stay down; they had a tendency to seep up and make me more frustrated in ways I couldn’t easily identify.
But that was a minor thing, all things considered. My parents had been out of my life for some time now; it wasn’t like this was a major new development that was making life difficult for me.
“I don’t know. But I am spotting a little so it should be soon.”
“Or maybe you’re pregnant.”
I laughed as I said there was no way. Maybe once or twice, Matthew had finished inside of me—the time on the kitchen table being one particular moment—but the moments it had happened were right before my period, possibly the safest time. The odds of it actually being the case were incredibly slim almost mathematically impossible.
No, we were not ready for kids, and we were not going to let such a thing happen. We both had too much going on in our lives to worry about such a silly thing.
Well…
“Just asking,” she said with a teasing smirk.
“No, it’s nothing.”
But then I started to think.
Nothing had made me feel as ill as this. This was especially acute. It was entirely possible that the feelings I had were nothing more than an unusually bad sickness, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to have some gut feelings that wasn’t the case. The more I began to wonder if I actually… if I actually was pregnant.
I started to feel scared. I wasn’t ready for a kid. I was barely in my twenties! Matthew wasn’t ready for a kid either; he was a little bit older than me, but we were both still in the crazed phase. If I really was pregnant… we hadn’t even had the relationship talk yet. How could I have kids in such a spot?
This couldn’t be happening. Surely, I was just overreacting.
“Are you okay?” Rosella said, noticing the look on my face. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m always weird, but… I don’t know, I feel sick every morning for the past few days, and my bra didn’t even fit this morning and—oh god…”
I buried my head in my hands and started to hyperventilate. I certainly wanted kids… someday, though. Not today. I didn’t have a job for more than two days a week! And now I was expected to raise a child?
If this was the case, it was going to be too much. Too much. Too fucking much…
I knew I wasn’t getting an abortion. That was a non-starter. But so was having a kid! Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I’m not ready for this. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. What the fuck am I going to do?!?
“Grace, relax… hey?”
She forced me to look at her.
“You don’t know until you know.”
She then rushed to get me a test, ignoring my comments and worried expressions. When she got back, she had me take the test immediately. In theory, she thought that knowing would help me, either way.
I don’t think knowing feels any better.
Not when you’re not ready.
15
Matthew
I had spent so much time with Grace that I felt like I was going through withdrawal when she wasn’t around.
We worked at the club together sometimes, and then we would come back to the same house. I would give her the space she needed when she asked for it, but most of the time, we slept in the same bed, woke up, and had morning sex. It’s perfect.
I felt like I was falling for her. I didn’t know what to make of it.
I hadn’t really ever liked someone like that before, as most of my past relationships lasted a few weeks, and we never got close. But Grace and I actually talked about things; for example, she confided in me about her parents, and I told her about missing my dad. I started to feel like we were two people coming together, which made me even more afraid that I was going to mess things up with her.
But for now, I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had club business to attend to.
Secret club business at that.
My brothers had decided to meet at my house versus going to the club so the other guys didn’t get wind of what was going on. Jaxson was vague in his text, so I had no idea what to expect. We headed to the basement upon their arrival so no one, not even Grace, could overhear us.
“I’m sending out some guys to investigate the murder,” Jaxson said. “We need to get to the bottom of this. The longer this goes on, the more I’m worried we’re being lulled into some sort of trap.”
My brothers and I were tense at hell. Simon came back and wasn’t happy about it at all, especially about not being able to tell Rosella about it. It was making things tense between us.
“
What if they are confronted?” I asked.
“Then we know they mean to be hostile and we can act accordingly. But right now, we need to know if these threats are empty or not.”
There was nothing fucking empty about those threats. They killed a prospect!
But… I get where he’s coming from. We don’t know if they’re capable of coming for the big guns. No need to overreact and cause something bad.
In the end, however, a consensus was reached—we were back at war, one way or the other, with Rosella’s extended family.
“I didn’t expect to come back to this,” Simon said. “I thought that shit was done when we killed Uncle Nic.”
“Well, we didn’t expect it to happen either,” Jaxson said. “You can tell Rosella if you want, now that we know. I’m going to make a club announcement soon, anyways, so probably going to be better for you if you tell her than if she overhears it.”
Simon nodded slowly and finished his beer, looking like he wanted to be back away from the club. Frankly, for once, I couldn’t blame him.
“We were going to try and have another kid. Now… fuck, I don’t know.”
I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, trying to figure out what to say to make him feel better. I just had no idea what to say. What could you say to someone who wanted a kid and then found out his entire family was again at risk of being murdered?
There wasn’t anything you could say. But even still, Simon relaxed.
A little.
“We all good?” Jaxson said.
We all nodded in agreement.
“That’s all, then,” he said, getting up to leave.
It felt a little odd to have called a private club meeting in my basement for that reason and that reason alone, but it was done. We were going to move forward with war—and now I just had to comfort Grace. After something like that, I couldn’t say how many more times I would get to do so.
After I led my brothers out, I walked inside to an empty living room. Grace was usually watching some reality show at this hour, so I was surprised. She wasn’t in my bedroom either, which turned my surprise to concern. When I texted her, she didn’t respond. Now I was starting to wonder if I had missed something major.
