Chapter 10 The Pussy Pounder 5000 Needs New Batteries Emmett #2
Sasha giggle-snorts, swatting his arm. She has three kids from two previous relationships, and the only reason I think it’s a little odd is that Craig has always been adamant about never wanting kids.
She reaches over the table, squeezing Cara’s hand.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t listen to him. I’m one of those people who are just, like, super fertile.
I didn’t try for a single one of my kids.
All three of ’em were accidents.” She winks, holding a finger to her lips and tilting her head toward her boys, currently fighting over a bag of Goldfish.
“Don’t tell them. Hell, I was on the pill and using condoms when I got pregnant with Harvey.
Isn’t it wild that someone like me just winds up pregnant when I’m actively avoiding it, and someone like you, someone who’s chasing it, has such a hard time? ”
Cara stabs her fork into her steak. “Wild.”
“You know what you need? A vacation. I bet you just need to relax. Get drunk, forget all about it. It worked for my friend. Tried for four months, everything under the sun. I said, ‘Marsha, honey, you need to just get away and take your mind off it.’ She did. Went to Florida, got drunk off her ass, came back knocked up.”
“A whole four months, huh?”
“Mhmm.” She chugs her wine, then hands it to Craig for a refill. “How long have you guys been trying?”
“Over two years.”
“Oh.” She blinks, slowly lowering her glass. “Which one of you is the issue?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Oh, I just mean… normally, it’s the sperm, or the eggs, or the uterus, or—”
“It’s me,” Cara says, and I hate that she keeps her eyes on her plate, that her voice is barely a whisper.
I hate more than anything that her hand leaves mine, gently shifting it off her thigh before she folds hers together in her lap.
She clears her throat, pasting a smile on her face as she looks up at Sasha, at my family.
“I’m the issue. I have diminished ovarian reserve. ”
“How do you get something like that?” my mom asks. She points at Cara with her fork. “I bet if you cleaned up your eating habits and stopped drinking—”
“Mom,” I growl.
“What? That couldn’t hurt. We didn’t have all these issues when we were growing up, and our generation was much healthier. None of this processed crap everyone’s eating now.”
I scrub my hands down my face. “Cara is perfectly healthy, which is why her diagnosis is so confusing. And anyway, she’s not the issue. We’re in this together.”
Cara looks up at me, a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She reaches over, lacing her fingers through mine, pulling my hand back to her lap.
“Have you ever thought about adoption?” Sasha asks.
Craig snaps his fingers and points at me.
“Oh, yeah! Didn’t you guys do training, or whatever, to be foster parents?
” He looks at Sasha, adding on a hush, “ ’Cause a couple of their friends have been in the foster system,” which is none of her or anyone else’s business, and neither is the way Cara and I decide to make a family.
“Our focus isn’t there right now,” I say firmly, squeezing Cara’s hand as I remember back to the beginning of this year when she and I quietly completed pre-service training as we watched Adam and Rosie begin their journey to adopt Lily.
“Maybe it should be,” Sasha says. “In fact, there’s so many kids in need of homes, you almost have to wonder if it’s irresponsible to undergo fertility treatments when you could open your home to a child in need.”
Cara hums, shoveling a forkful of salad into her mouth, following it with a gulp of wine. “When do you finalize your adoption, Sasha?”
Sasha’s brows rise. “Pardon me?”
“Your adoption. You are adopting, aren’t you?
Since you think it’s so irresponsible to bring more children into the world when there are other children who need homes.
” She holds Sasha’s gaze, chewing on a piece of steak.
“Are you adopting just one? Perhaps you should do three, for all three of the kids you irresponsibly brought into the world.”
My youngest brother snorts a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. I don’t bother to hide my grin, clamping my hand down on Cara’s thigh.
“Adoption isn’t necessary.” My mom tops off her wine, smiling at us above the rim. “Emmett’s sperm are just fine.”
MY WIFE IS MANY THINGS.
She’s sure and steady. Someone I can depend on. She’s confident in her abilities and brave in the face of things that would have most people hiding. She’s loyal, outspoken, honest even when it’s hard to hear, and the best friend I could ever ask for.
And she is not quiet.
In the garage, I open the passenger door, offering her my hand.
She takes it with a smile that doesn’t light her eyes, and as I look down at her hand, the way it disappears in mine, I’m reminded that although she’s brave and strong and confident, she’s also human.
A prisoner to the thoughts that sometimes eat at her, just like the rest of us.
A heart so big it feels too much. Someone who second-guesses herself only when she’s taking on the weight of someone else’s struggle, when she feels like she’s failing them.
Fragile, even in her toughest moments, just like the rest of us. Human.
I lead her inside and over to the stairs, guiding her down to the steps. Crouching between her legs, I take her pink heel in my hand, gliding it off her foot before I move to the other.
“Thank you,” she says with a look as soft as her smile.
I brace my hands on either side of her, hovering above her. “You’re welcome.” My mouth drops to hers, and I swallow her sigh. “What do you feel like doing tonight? It’s still early.”
“I’m tired,” she admits, cupping my face as she presses her forehead to mine. “Take me to bed?”
“Your wish is my command, my queen.” I scoop her into my arms, winding her long legs around my waist. I take the stairs slowly, because holding her like this, her cheek on my shoulder, hand splayed over my heart, makes me feel like I’m doing something right in this world.
There’s something special, something rewarding, about being someone’s safe place—when the strongest person you know trusts you enough to hand over their struggle for a minute or two. Lets you hold it. Take care of it.
I set her on her feet in the bedroom and slowly work her silk skirt over her hips until it drops on the floor. Running the tip of my finger up her spine, I watch as her blushing skin dots with goose bumps.
“Lift your arms, firefly,” I whisper against her ear, dragging her cropped tank top up, pulling it over her head.
“I don’t want to take my needle,” she murmurs as she watches me head to the mini fridge in our closet, pulling out the case with her medication.
“I know, baby.” Back into my arms she goes, until I set her on the edge of the bathroom counter. “I’ll be quick and gentle, and I’ll hold you after.”
She takes her lower lip between her teeth, the slight tremble in her chin pulling at my heart as she watches me clean a spot on her torso. I ready the needle, checking for bubbles, twisting it to the right dose. When I look back to Cara, her eyes are squeezed shut.
“Hey.” I cup her face, sweeping my thumb over her cheekbone until her lashes flutter, gaze coming to mine. “I got you, sweetheart.”
She nods, and I crouch between her legs, pinching her skin gently between my fingers, depressing the needle, holding her gaze as she sucks in a shuddering breath.
“Your grace, even when the person receiving it doesn’t deserve it.” I kiss the top of her thigh, feeling the way Cara softens below me, same as she always does when I’m giving her five reasons I love her. “Your smart mouth when you put them in their place.”
A soft snicker. “I do love putting people in their place.”
“I’m not sure they’d ever find it without you.”
I pull the needle out, ditching the tip in the sharps bin and gently massaging her skin as I give her three more reasons.
“Your devotion to your friends, your determination even in the face of struggle, and the way you love me, so perfectly I feel it every second of the day.” She cradles my head in her hand as I press a kiss to the spot on her stomach. “You did so good, baby.”
“Will it ever get easier?” Cara asks as she laces her fingers through mine, following me to bed.
“The needle? I think you’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to,” she admits quietly as I glide her panties down her legs, peel her bra off before she crawls under the covers.
“If I get used to it, it means I’m still taking it.
And if I’m still taking it…” Uneasy blue eyes slip away from me as I slide into bed next to her, and she swallows, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket.
“Look at me, Care. This isn’t easy, I know. That’s okay. The only thing that’s come easy in my life is loving you. I’d spend the rest of my life fighting, as long as it’s you I’m fighting for.”
Tired eyes move between mine, like she’s looking for the lie, but she won’t find it.
“I love you,” she tells me, the words quiet but so damn sure as she twists into me, slides her soft hand along my jaw, brings my lips to hers.
“There is nothing in this world I love the way I love you,” I promise as I cover her body with mine, gripping her waist as she moves below me, my fingers sliding into her silky hair, gathering it in my fist as I drag my mouth down her throat, painting her collarbone in wet kisses.
I flick my tongue over one taut nipple before tugging it gently between my teeth as she arches against me.
“F-u-u-uck,” she rasps as I suck her nipple into my mouth, lavishing it in attention before moving to the next, dipping my hand between her thighs. I pull her wetness to her clit, circling it as she moans, my cock hard and pressed against her hip.
“What do you want, baby? Tell me.”