Chapter 2 The Tush Push
THE TUSH PUSH
TRIXIE
It might be my wedding day, but Luke Skycocker still had me up early, singing me the song of his people.
I woke up alone in my bed, a phenomenon that hadn’t happened since the beginning of the off season.
The fact that my mother had spontaneously burst into a flame of traditionalism and insisted Chris and I spend the night apart for good luck was ridiculous. I couldn’t sleep well without him.
When Chris moved in, he’d surprised me by insisting on my house instead of his bigger, fancier one across the street.
He said he didn’t want to disturb the chickens, and he liked the idea of our kids growing up where I did.
He’d immediately started expanding the place for our future little Kingmans—including building a new master suite on the opposite end of the house from Everett’s place next door.
Something about nosy neighbors who didn’t respect boundaries. I hadn’t asked for details.
I was just about to get out of bed when I heard a tapping on the sliding glass door that led to the balcony off our bedroom.
I panicked, thinking Luke had somehow flown up here to peck at the glass, but unless he’d learned the power of speech in the last twenty-four hours, it couldn’t be him calling my name.
“Chris, is that you?” I asked.
“Yeah, babe, it’s me. Open the door.”
I threw the covers off and started running around the room like a chicken with its head cut off.
My wedding dress, a gorgeous Rose Vond original, was hanging from the closet door where I’d put it so I could stare at it as I fell asleep.
I grabbed it, shoved it into the closet, and slammed the door shut before he could get a peek.
Then I threw back the curtains to find him standing on the other side of the glass in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, waving.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled, pulling him through the open door and into our bedroom. My parents were sleeping on the other side of the house, and I felt like I was about to get caught sneaking a boy into my room. Just like all the times I never did as a teenager.
“Babe, I missed you. I had to see you.” He nestled into my neck, and my resolve immediately started crumbling.
“It’s supposed to be bad luck, Chris,” I said, tilting my head to give him easier access.
“We make our own luck. I know there aren’t any lockers in here, but there are some rituals that need to be followed.” His lips traced up to my ear. “Don’t you want us to win the marriage Big Bowl, baby?”
“Of course I do, baby,” I said as I kissed him. “I need you to throw me some deep, hard balls.”
“You know I will. You’re my favorite receiver.” He picked me up and carried me toward the bed, setting me down and stripping off my oversized t-shirt, the one that said “I Suspect Fowl Play”, in one smooth motion. “Turn over.”
I got on my hands and knees and Chris knelt behind me, trailing his hands over my hips and bending down to kiss my bum before opening me up and licking me from front door to back.
“I love this tight end,” he muttered, then buried his face in my pussy, sucking on my clit.
I leaned down and pressed my face into the pillow to keep from making any noise that would alert my parents.
My mother might be the most sex-positive woman I know, but seeing her daughter with her ass in the air being eaten like Sunday dinner might be a hair too far even for her.
“So good,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “I love you, baby. So much. I can’t believe you’re going to be my husband today.”
Chris groaned at those words and worked his tongue into me even harder. I could feel the tension in my belly begin to tighten, and I ground back against his face as I started to come. He lapped up every drop I offered him before rising and joining me on the bed.
“You ready for this Tush Push, sweetheart?” he growled into my ear as he knelt behind me.
“Hit the hole, baby. I know you can do it.”
He thrust into me like it was the fourth quarter and he was on the ten-yard line.
I’d never been more grateful for the ridiculously expensive memory foam mattress he’d bought for his perfect athlete body.
Anything else would have announced to the entire neighborhood that I was getting absolutely railed by my groom-to-be.
Chris reached down and pulled my body to his without missing a stroke. He held me against him with one arm while reaching down to rub my clit with his other hand, spilling hot words into my ear like a fevered prayer. “You’re going to be my wife today. My wife. I get to love you forever.”
“Oh, Chris,” I cried out, feeling myself getting close again.
“My wife. My Trixie. The love of my life. The mother of my children. Come for me. Come with me.”
I clenched down around him and exploded as I felt him fill me with his hot release. He held me to him as we rode out the last waves of our orgasms together, then collapsed into a heap on the bed.
“Wow, babe,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “We should get married more often.”
“Ha ha. Once is enough.” I curled into his side. “But I wouldn’t say no to you sneaking in and kidnapping me for fun.”
“You get that idea from one of your books?”
“Where else?”
“Never change, Chickadee.” He kissed my forehead, and I melted a little.
“There is one thing you mentioned that I wanted to talk about, though.”
“Oh yeah?” He looked at me with interest.
“You mentioned children. I just thought you should know—I finished my birth control pack two weeks ago, and I didn’t refill it.
” I bit my lip. I probably should have discussed it with him first, but I was fairly certain we were on the same page about starting our family, and I’d wanted to surprise him.
His eyes went wide, and the most brilliant smile lit up his face. That wasn’t the only thing getting big, either. I could feel his spent cock twitch with interest against my leg.
“Nope,” I cried, pulling away and rolling off the bed. “Absolutely not, cowboy. You gotta ride. It’s a miracle we haven’t gotten caught already. We can indulge your breeding kink some other time.”
Chris laughed and started hunting for his sweatpants on the floor. He was in the process of pulling them on when my mother knocked on the bedroom door, calling my name.
“GO. NOW,” I whisper-yelled at Chris while calling out, “One minute, Mom! I’m just throwing on some clothes.”
He yanked on his hoodie and sneakers and gave me a quick kiss before darting out the balcony door. “See you later. I’ll be the guy at the altar.”
“You better be.” I rolled my eyes. “Go.”
I took a quick look in the mirror to make sure my hair said “just woke up” rather than “just got my world rocked,” then answered the door.
“Hey, Mom.”
She came into the room carrying a tray filled with breakfast goodies—berries, almond croissants from my favorite vegan bakery, and what I knew without asking was a strawberry banana smoothie with protein and hidden vitamins, just like she used to make me as a kid.
She set the tray on the bed and immediately burst into “Chapel of Love,” making her way around the room toward the balcony.
She flung the curtains open before I could even yelp at her not to, but luckily both Chris and the ladder were long gone.
“I can’t believe my baby girl is getting married today.” She turned to me, beaming. “I am so excited.”
Somehow, hearing it from my mom made it feel really real. My stomach filled with champagne bubbles. By tonight, I would actually be Chris’s wife.
“Me too, Mom.”
She wrapped me in her arms for a hug, then we sat on the bed together. I tried not to think about what had been happening on this mattress ten minutes ago and helped myself to a strawberry and a croissant.
“You and Chris,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “I just can’t believe it. April and I used to talk about it when you two were kids. He hung on your every word. We used to joke about what great in-laws we’d make.”
I smiled sadly. “I wish she could be here today.”
“Me too.” Mom nodded. “I still miss her every day. But I know how proud she would be of you kids. Just like I am.” She squeezed my hand. “Especially you, sweetie.”
“Proud of me for getting married?” I asked, confused. My mom wasn’t the type to define a woman by her partner, or to think a woman needed to be married at all.
“No, I’m proud of you for the wonderful woman you’ve turned out to be, Beatrix.
I know it wasn’t always easy growing up with me for a mother.
I’m not embarrassed of either of my careers, but I’d hoped they wouldn’t affect you.
I know how it made things harder, especially with jerks like that slimy Karter and his mess last year.
” She cupped my face in her hands. “But you’ve grown into a beautiful, confident woman who isn’t afraid to claim what she deserves and stand up for what she believes in.
I could not be prouder to call you my daughter. ”
“Oh, Mom.” I leaned into her arms again, my eyes filling with tears for what I was sure would be the first of a hundred times today. “I’ve always been really proud to call you my mom, too.”
When she pulled back, I could see her eyes were also threatening to spill over. She blinked rapidly and straightened up.
“Eat up. The girls will be here soon, and the hairdresser and makeup people. Remember not to wash your hair—dirty hair holds an updo better.”
“I remember, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes as I stuffed half of a croissant in my mouth.
“I’m sure you could use a shower, though. After whatever you and Chris got up to this morning.”
I almost choked to death on vegan pastry.
“I haff no idee whuh you meen,” I said with my mouth full.
“Beatrix, swallow please. I taught you better than that.” She raised an eyebrow. “It reeks of sex in here. I would know. Plus, Christopher wasn’t exactly subtle when he walked by the kitchen window with a twenty-foot ladder this morning.”