Chapter 50 Raya
Raya
I made it five weeks.
I’m still bleeding a little. My stitches have dissolved, but the pain hasn’t completely dissipated.
And I still wanna fuck.
But Ace refuses. He says we’re following the doctor’s orders and he won’t discuss it any further. He put his foot down, if you can believe that.
But right now, we’re in the bedroom, and it’s quiet other than the sounds of my moans. Ace’s face is between my legs, and it’s the best thing I’ve felt since Arlo was born.
I’m gonna put an asterisk on that, though, because we had to make some adjustments.
He was fine eating me out in spite of my spotting, but I wasn’t comfortable with it, so I made him put a sheet of saran wrap on top of my pussy.
He laughed his head off at that, but he did it, and now, you’d never know. That man is going to town on me.
We rolled Arlo out into the hall before we got down to business.
“Oh my…God…right there. Right there, don’t stop.”
I put a hand on top of his head and grind my pussy against his face. He’s being gentle, treating me like I’m delicate, which I guess I still am, but when I get out of pussy jail, I swear to God that man is gonna be fucking disgusted with me.
I stare at my hand, or more specifically, at my new ring—it’s my push present. It’s gorgeous, sparkling right now in the candlelight.
Ace said I earned it.
My other hand fists the sheets as my body builds toward its peak.
“Ace. Fuck…I’m…I’m cumming…”
I hold in my scream, but my body goes crazy. My boobs are leaking, my uterus is contracting, my mouth is watering, and my pussy is spasming like it’s her first time being eaten.
Did the doctor sew me a brand new pussy? It’s weird, but in a good way. I’ll never be mad at new sensations.
Once I’m finished, Ace kisses his way up my thighs, over my still swollen belly, to my breasts.
“Can you skim a little off the top for me?” I ask with a wicked little smile.
His hooded eyes drop to my lips. He leans in, kisses them softly, then says, “I got you.”
With his tongue, he licks up every drop of liquid gold that leaked out of my engorged breasts. With his mouth, he suckles, just a few minutes on each side. We recently discovered that this gets him extremely hard, and, well, it’s been on sight ever since.
Freud would have a field day with us.
My left breast lets down, so he has to drink now. Drinking me and jacking himself off. I don’t know why I love it so much, but I do.
Right before he cums, he stands in front of me, and I open my mouth for him, staring up at him through my lashes. My fine ass husband pushes in between my jaws and releases, and it’s my turn to drink and swallow.
He grabs my hair and pulls with barely controlled aggression. “Girl, you just don’t know. I’ma tear yo fine ass up next week.”
Okay, so we’re on the same page, then.
Arlo better get used to the hallway.
I pad into the bathroom to wash up, checking my reflection as I turn on the faucet. My face is fuller. Cheeks flushed. Hair messy. I look content.
I’m not used to that at all.
Back out in the hallway, Arlo is stirring. I stare down at his tiny fists, chuckling as he punches the air like he’s fighting invisible opps.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur. “Ready to eat, or do you wanna play?”
I lift him up, inhaling baby smell as I press him against me. I take him into the nursery and settle onto the rocking chair. He latches on quickly, just like his daddy, and drinks my liquid gold while he stares into my eyes.
I feel it now.
The connection. It’s more spiritual than physical, I think. There’s an invisible chord tethering me to my baby, and no one and nothing will ever be able to sever it.
God, I can’t believe I finally feel it.
Ace comes in looking relaxed in his white t-shirt and black sweatpants. So relaxed, he sprawls out on the floor at my feet.
The way he looks at us makes me ache.
“I meant to tell you,” he says. “I got rid of your journals.”
I glance down at him. “All of them?”
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes.”
“I kept one, though.”
“Which one?”
He smiles. “The one with my name on it.”
“Now why would you do that?”
He shrugs, but he ain’t fooling me. “I want you to have somewhere to express yourself. You might have feelings or thoughts or whatever that you don’t feel safe sharing with me, and…
” he trails off for a minute, his eyes going soft.
“It’s there if you need it. And I won’t read it. I trust you. I think.”
I laugh at that. “I appreciate it. I probably won’t. I feel safe sharing things with you now. I think.”
He gives me a wink.
I rock Arlo back and forth as Ace watches from his spot on the floor. I never saw this life for myself, but now that I have it, I don’t know how I ever lived without it.
"Professor Higgins got back to me."
"Oh yeah? What'd she say?"
I roll my eyes. "All grades are final."
Ace nods slowly. "And how are we feeling about that?"
"I'm fucking pissed, obviously. So I'm gonna appeal my grade. Go over her ugly ass head."
"Do you have grounds?"
"If I don't, I'ma find some."
"Damn. I'm so proud of you. You didn't threaten her life not one time."
"I'm growing," I tease, but he nods his agreement.
"You are. I've been seeing it. Not that you weren't perfect before," he adds with a grin.
"Right, right." I look down at my baby. "I'm happy."
“Brace yourself, babe,” he says. “I think we might be turning…normal.”
I laugh quietly. “Whatever that is.”
He taps my foot. “You’re still a freak, though, right? Cuz I need that.”
I stick my foot out and wriggle my toes against his chest. “I’ma always be a freak, Ace. That should be the least of your worries.”
I hope he doesn’t think I’ve changed that much. I’m still a stone cold fucking bitch. Not even Arlo could take that out of me.
“Are you a hundred percent sure you don’t want any more?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really, Ace?”
“I’m just asking.”
I look down at Arlo’s tiny hand wrapped around my finger and consider it.
“There’s a possibility I could be persuaded.”
His eyes darken with interest. “Oh really? How?”
“You know I’d do anything to make you happy. Especially in the bedroom.”
He nods.
“So…if that’s your thing, I’m willing to entertain it.”
“I think that might very well be my thing.”
“No more plotting.”
“Of course,” he says. “You’re running the show.”
“Okay. Then I’ll consider it. As long as you ask me nicely.”
“Done.”
“While you’re in it.”
He laughs. “I don't know if I can be nice while I’m in it.”
“That works, too.”
We share a smile that heals wounds I didn't even know I had. I think we're finally comfortable. Not normal, but comfortable enough with our weirdness to just…be.
Besides…who wants to be normal anyway?
The End