Chapter 22
Goldie
Dolly and Ms. Judy are wearing identical expressions—heads tilted to the side, frowns tugging down the corners of their lips, and brows creased in the middle. The exhausted saleswoman—Layla, of all people—rearranges the train of the sixth wedding dress I’ve tried on as I stand on the short dais in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, twisting my body this way and that, studying my reflection.
“I don’t know.” I readjust the rhinestone-encrusted strap digging painfully into my shoulder, the stones on the bodice scratching the undersides of my arms. “What do y’all think?”
Layla, now wearing a black blazer over skinny black trousers, steps back and pinches her chin. “As much as I need the commission, I don’t think this is the one .”
The owner walking past overhears Layla and gives her a shrewd look. Layla closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. I don’t think the crisply dressed older woman is too happy about Layla not pushing me into saying yes to this dress.
Dolly and Ms. Judy nod at the same time. “I think the bright white one with the scoop neck was the best one so far,” Dolly says, her and her mother tilting their heads to the other side. “Do you want to try that one on again? Maybe you’ll like it better the second time.”
Layla shakes her head, then gives me a searching look. “How open are you to other colors besides white and ivory?”
My brows go up. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Anything except red or orange, I guess.”
Layla snaps her fingers. “Be right back,” she says after helping me off the dais into the fitting room, removing the large clips holding the back of the heavy ball gown-style dress together.
My heart thumps when Layla helps me into the subtly shaded blush pink gown with a low sweetheart neckline. It has sheer, off-the-shoulder loose sleeves that drape softly down to my wrists, a breathable bodice with a tiny lace pattern, and a breezy, layered skirt made from the same material as the sleeves over a silky slip that flows out from the waist.
I can hardly catch my breath after exiting the fitting room, fluttery at the reflection that greets me. It’s almost hard to believe that’s me . I didn’t know I could look so…soft and feminine. Like I’ve stepped out of a fairy tale.
“This is the one,” I whisper.
Dolly and Ms. Judy nod and wipe their eyes with tissues. Ms. Judy stands to smooth out my short train while Layla gathers my hair back and slips a thin, gold floral tiara with delicate crystals into my hair.
“You look like a princess,” Dolly whispers, smiling when our eyes connect in the mirror.
“Stunning,” Ms. Judy says, joining Dolly and Layla’s sides. I wish so badly that Aunt Lydia was here to witness this, but I’m so grateful for the love and support these women are offering me.
I break from their gazes when I hear the chime above the front door, signaling someone stepping inside the boutique, shortly followed by the sound of a baby crying. Davis and Lily. A heavy cream curtain separates the changing area from the front of the store so Davis can’t see me in my dress before our wedding day, and Ms. Judy walks behind it to talk to Davis.
Layla asks me, “This is the dress?”
I lightly trace my fingers down the bodice. “Yes, this is the dress.” A flicker of worry crosses my features when I ask, “How much is it?” There’s a small, white price tag dangling at my side, but when I reach for it, Layla snips it off with a tiny pair of sewing scissors and hides it behind her back.
Layla’s eyes twinkle with laughter. “That’s for Davis to worry about, not you.” She turns to walk behind the curtain, disappearing after saying, “Give me just a second.”
Though Layla hadn’t teared up when she saw me in my wedding dress like everyone else, her eyes are watery when she returns, having traded the price tag for Lily. Layla’s chin quivers as a solitary tear rolls down her right cheek.
Dolly rubs her hand up and down Layla’s upper arm, giving her a sad smile. Though I’m not privy to Layla’s situation, I can take a guess at what’s upset her, and my heart breaks a little.
“Dolly, can you help me with my dress?” I ask her instead of Layla, who had tightened her arms around Lily when I reached for her. “That’s if you don’t mind holding her a bit longer,” I say to Layla.
Layla nods, dipping her eyes to my daughter before closing them and kissing Layla’s crown as she rocks side to side.
“Thank you,” Layla says quietly once I’m re-dressed in my regular clothes, the gown whisked away by another employee for alterations. She kisses Lily one more time before passing her to me. “You have a beautiful family,” she says, biting her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling, then walks past the fitting room into the employee area in the back, her arms wrapped around her middle.
* * *
Davis is distracted and lost in his head throughout dinner, which we picked up from a family-owned Tex-Mex restaurant in town. At first, I was worried that reality had come crashing down on him or something after paying for my wedding dress. After he changed into sweatpants, I went through his jeans pockets, looking for the receipt. I was sick to discover it cost over two thousand dollars, which I never would have been able to afford when I was a waitress in Nevada. But then he told me about his conversation with his sister, staring at his take-out container the whole time, and his mood suddenly made sense.
I get Lily settled for bed while Davis and Wyatt finish putting up the porch swing out front, working around the security company who came out late to install cameras on all sides of the house’s exterior. They’re also installing keypads on the front and back doors that automatically lock when closed and can only be unlocked by typing in a code, which no one will have but us.
With nothing else to do since Davis and I already cleaned up the kitchen, I lay back on the couch in the living room with the crochet afghan over my lap and search for a movie to watch while I wait. I finally select Hope Floats , one of my and Aunt Lydia’s favorites. I can’t seem to get her off my mind lately.
Halfway through the movie, Davis walks past. “We’re all done. I’m going to take a shower,” he whispers, even though Lily is in the bedroom and he doesn’t need to keep his voice down.
When thirty minutes pass without Davis’s return, I pause the movie and go in search of him. When I don’t find Davis in our room or either bathroom, I check the other two bedrooms, finding him in the one that used to belong to his sister. Davis had told me that Amanda had taken most of the furniture when she moved out, so there’s nothing but a few cardboard boxes of her leftover things that she didn’t want and still needs to be donated, along with his Dad’s things that Davis doesn’t need, but can’t bear to part with yet.
Davis is sitting in the dark with his back to the wall beneath the window that faces the side yard, holding a small wooden picture frame on his lap.
I shuffle toward him. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he answers, bobbing his head, though he’s still eyeing the photograph dimly visible by the moon.
I sit next to him, legs crossed, and lean my head on his shoulder. The photograph is of him, his dad, and his sister on a small aluminum boat in the middle of a lake, each holding a fishing rod. Davis and his sister have small fish they caught on their hooks, smiling with several missing baby teeth. I’m guessing his mom is the one who took the picture, and I imagine it was a happy day, though I wonder why his sister didn’t take the framed photograph with her when she moved out.
I twist to kiss Davis’s cheek. I know there has to be more to the story about his sister’s estrangement. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about,” he says with a long sigh, then sets the frame back inside the closest box.
Heart in my throat, I say, “Rule number four: we do not lie to each other.”
Davis finally cracks a smile. “That’s a good rule. Which reminds me…” Davis moves faster than I can react, hauling me across his lap on my stomach. He smacks my left asscheek. “That’s one.”
“Davis!” I put my hands behind my back over my butt to stop him from spanking me again.
“You just earned yourself another.” He grabs my wrists with one hand and smacks my right cheek. “Four more to go.”
I manage to yank my wrists out of his hold and scramble off his lap, barely getting to my feet to rush out of the room before he lumbers upright. I giggle when he nearly catches me in the hallway, and with a burst of speed, I run past the couch to put it between the two of us.
“And another for running from Daddy,” he says, giving me a sexy, slightly sinister smile, then dodging to my right.
I dodge left. “You’d have to catch me first, Daddy.”
We circle the couch twice, and I laugh each time one of his feints to the side fails. My eyes widen when he smirks, then launches himself over the couch like a track athlete jumping a hurdle. He manages to brush the back of my hoodie before I’ve made it out of the front door. The exterior lights flick on when I jump from the front porch and run to hide behind the Ford.
Davis looks positively wicked as he rounds the truck, then stalks me down the driveway, backlit by the flood light as his bare chest heaves. Thanks to a head start, I might have been able to get away from him in the house, but out here in the open? I don’t stand a chance.
Davis
Goldie holds her hands up in front of her, still inching backward toward the road. She steps on something in her bare feet that makes her hop on one leg, and I use her distraction to rush her, dropping my shoulder into her belly to sling her over my shoulder.
“Davis!” She laughs, even as she feigns outrage.
I smack Goldie’s ass for using my name as I carry her back to the front of the house. As much as I’d like to put her on her hands and knees right there in the driveway, I don’t like being so exposed on all sides.
I pull my phone from my pocket and tap on the security app. We had the security company install a camera in our room, positioned right above Lily’s crib. She’s still sleeping peacefully, which means I can have my way with her mama for a little while longer.
The automatic lights flick off now that we’re back on the porch, and I drop Goldie onto the new swing, ready to flip her over and deliver another spanking. As soon as her ass hits the seat, though, she’s on her feet, trying to dart off the porch again.
I grab her around the waist to spin her around to face me, then grip the back of her neck. “Not a good idea, baby…out there in the open.” I tip my head toward the lawn.
Goldie nods with understanding and tries to edge toward the front door.
I shake my head. “Oh no, I’m not done with you yet.” Getting right in her face, I tell her, “Since you can’t be a good girl and take the spankings you’ve earned, Daddy has to find another way to punish you.”
Goldie wets her lips, and I’m close enough to see her pupils blow wide in the hazy blue light of the television through the front window. I drag her with me, grab and drop the swing’s padded cushion on the ground, and sit on the swing with Goldie standing between my knees. “Kneel on the cushion.”
I tense, waiting to see how Goldie will respond, wishing I could see more than just the outline of her shape in the darkest corner of the porch. My cock jerks when she puts her hands on my knees and slowly lowers herself. If I wasn’t already hard after chasing her through the house and out the door, I’d be erect in an instant at her obedience.
“Good girl. Now take my cock out.”
Goldie runs her hands up my legs, then pulls my waistband down, freeing my dick. She doesn’t touch it, resting her hands on my upper thighs as if waiting for more instructions. My dick throbs at the power she’s allowing me to have over her right now while I continue to hold the back of her neck.
“Now spit in your hand and grip it.”
Again, she does exactly what I say—but only what I say, nothing more.
“Fuck, baby.” I jerk my hips to fuck up into her fist. “Move your hand up and down now. Squeeze it tighter.” She does it twice, then stops. “Brat,” I spit.
I can hear the smirk in her voice when she pitches it up higher and says innocently, “But I’m doing what you told me to, Daddy.”
I growl, and because I’m not in a position to spank her, I palm the back of her head with my free hand. “Open your mouth, baby.” Then I push her head down, filling her mouth with half my length, hitting the back of her throat before I ease her back an inch when she gags. “Sorry,” I whisper quickly, then louder, “Now suck it.”
She gives my shaft one tentative suck. I know she can’t smirk now that her mouth is full of my cock, but the sentiment is there in her actions—or lack thereof.
“I said, suck it! And don’t stop until I tell you to.”
I nearly explode in her mouth when she closes and suctions her lips around my shaft like she’s trying to forcefully suck the cum right out of my balls. My hips rear off the swing, my balls drawing up tight. I have never felt anything like it before.
“Shit! Fuck, fuck!” My hips jerk over and over again.
She swallows repeatedly, tightening her lips, never letting up the pressure. Thinking I’m going to pass out if this doesn’t end soon, I grip the sides of her head to hold her in place and rock the swing back and forth to fuck in and out of her mouth, making the chains creak almost as loud as the groans of ecstasy pouring out of my mouth. She doesn’t gag this time when I go too deep and hit the back of her throat, so on my next thrust, I push deeper inside.
I’m lightheaded as all my blood drains south, my hands and feet tingling. I thump my head on the top of the wooden backrest and tell my fiancée in a strangled voice, “Jack my dick, baby. I need to cum right fucking now.”
If I thought her mouth and throat were tight, it’s nothing compared to her clenching fist as she moves it up and down the base of my shaft with speed. And then she starts humming and moaning, and my cum shoots right down her throat into her belly.
“Goldie! Ah fuck, yes!” The intense pleasure almost immediately gives way to pain as she keeps going, well past after I’ve finished cumming, since I haven’t directed her to stop.
“You little brat!” I damn near squeal, which has to be the least attractive sound I’ve ever made. “Stop!” I fist her hair and yank her head back.
She laughs after my dick pops out of her mouth. “That’s what you get, Daddy.”
I haul her up with my hands under her armpits, our faces close enough for me to see her expression shift to one of surprise and—not quite fear, but something close to it—at whatever is on my face. Trading places with her, I bend her over the swing with her hands on the seat while I hold onto the back to keep it steady, rip her leggings down, and smack her ass harder than all the times before, her skin undoubtedly blooming bright pink.
She screams, but it’s instantly transformed into a moan when I slide my fingers down to find her pussy and shove two inside her from behind. If my dick weren’t limp after she sucked the ever-loving hell out of it, then I’d have used it instead.
As it is, I fuck her into a hard and fast orgasm. And then I keep going, just as she did, but unlike me, who needs time for my dick to harden between each orgasm, I’m able to spear three fingers inside her and fuck her into a second orgasm right on the heels of the first.
“Please, Daddy!” She sobs as I continue to thrust in and out of her. I have no intention of letting up, trying to work her into a third release, when she cries out, “Stop. Stop!”
I instantly remove my fingers, and Goldie sags against the swing, her body twitching uncontrollably. I scoop her up and hold her curled on my lap when I once again trade places with her. Goldie circles my neck with her arms and presses her face into the crook, her tears wetting my skin while I hold her, rubbing my hand up and down her back beneath her hoodie, kissing the top of her head every few seconds.
My voice is low when I ask after a minute or so, “Are you ok, honey?”
She nods and shifts higher on my lap, accidentally tugging on my dick, making me hiss. The damn thing attempts to harden, but I grit my teeth and ignore it.
I drop my voice lower. “Rule number four,” I remind her. No lying .
Goldie nods and combs her fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck. I hold her silently, continuing to rub her back for as long as it takes for her to calm.
She takes a long, deep breath, then sits up straighter. “That was amazing.” Her voice is scratchy, her throat sore after the way I fucked it, but with her lips now brushing mine, I know she’s smiling.
My heart beats fast. “Yeah? It wasn’t too much? Too hard?”
She nips my bottom lip. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I laugh and nip her back—a little love bite. But I’m not laughing anymore when Goldie readjusts on my lap to straddle my thighs, rubbing her wet pussy back and forth along my cock until I’m fully erect. We both suck in shuddery breaths when she lowers herself, taking me inside her to the hilt. Though our lovemaking is just as pleasurable as when we’re rough with each other, our connection is even more intense as my future wife slowly rides me, never once breaking our sensually slow kiss until we cum together.
I help Goldie onto her feet, watching with satisfaction as my cum slowly slips down her thighs after she steps back into the light through the window. We both whip our heads to the side when the flood lights flick on as a small gray sedan comes to a stop on our driveway. It’s not one that either of us recognizes, and we’re not expecting anyone at this time of night.
I yank my sweatpants up and push Goldie toward the front door. “Get in the house!” I’ve got my phone unlocked, ready to dial 9-1-1 before she’s even opened the door when the car starts backing up. The only thing we can see through the windshield is a pale hand giving us a short wave like a friendly neighbor would do when we pass each other on the road.
Goldie rests her hand in the middle of my back, standing in the open doorway. “Think they were just using our driveway to turn around?”
“Maybe,” I say. It’s the only way to make a U-turn on this stretch of the two-lane road, though people don’t usually have to come this far up the driveway. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
I set the house alarm, check the security cameras positioned above the garage, and write down the car’s license plate, wishing we had a clear view of the driver through the windshield. While Goldie is in our room, checking on Lily and cleaning herself up, I call the county’s non-emergency line to report what happened, asking if they can look up who owns the vehicle.
Right before I end the call, I finally pinpoint what it is that makes me doubt the U-turn theory the most—the car’s headlights were off.
* * *
The next morning, Dr. Patel’s bedside manner keeps slipping, shooting me quick glares every few minutes throughout Goldie’s six-week checkup. It started when I tried to position the extra chair at the end of the examination table with Goldie’s feet up in the stirrups, more curious than anything else about what goes on during these types of appointments. It ended with her giving me a scathing lecture about safe sex for recovering mothers.
Goldie wraps the paper gown tighter around her torso after Dr. Patel helps her to sit up, color high in her cheeks. “But you said I couldn’t get pregnant if I was breastfeeding, especially if I haven’t gotten my period back yet.”
Dr. Patel gentles her voice when she tells her, “I said it’s a myth that you can’t get pregnant while breastfeeding, even if you haven’t started your first period.”
Goldie blinks. “Am I just the dumbest—how the hell did I screw that up?”
Dr. Patel’s warm and professional bedside manner is back in full force when she pats Goldie’s hand and says, “You’re not dumb, Marigold. It can be overwhelming the amount of information we give new parents before they’re sent home, especially when they haven’t been given the proper amount of time to recover in the hospital.” Dr. Patel pinches her lips when she looks at me. “You, however…”
Goldie looks back and forth between us. “Why did you say it like that?”
“I know Davis heard me just fine. In fact, he repeated it back.”
Now they’re both looking at me like I kicked a puppy. I have no excuse, so I choose to wrinkle my nose and say, “I think someone needs a diaper change.” I nod to Lily in my arms and stand with the diaper bag, escaping the room before either woman can call me out on my bullshit.
It’s just my luck that Lily blows out her diaper on the way down the wide hallway toward the glass-walled reception area, liquid yellow baby shit running down my forearms. I’d like to think I have a strong stomach, but I gag quite a bit while cleaning her and myself up. She’s the lucky one who gets to change into a brand new, clean outfit while I have to settle for shrugging off my top and attempting to wash my undershirt one-handed with hand soap from the dispenser.
Goldie taps her boot repeatedly against the white vinyl flooring, leaning against the mural of Texas landmarks on the wall opposite the bathroom door. She lets out a short burst of laughter, though, when she sees me looking like the puppy who got kicked.
“That’s what you get.” Her face hardens the next moment. “And this is what I get,” she says, holding up a printed sheet of paper.
“What’s that?” I reach for it, but she jerks away.
“It’s my prescription for birth control.”
I crowd her against the wall, snatch the paper from her hands, and then crumple it into a ball with a low growl.
Instead of getting pissed, she smirks. “The doctor already sent it to the pharmacy. That was just the printout for my records.”
“Is that right?” I click my tongue and grip her hip.
She narrows her eyes, studying me for a beat. “Yes.”
Leaning close, I whisper, “And what if you’re already pregnant?”
“I’m not.” She looks away, then slides to the side, walking ahead of me down the hall toward the exit, her ass looking like a ripe peach in her new boot-cut jeans. “Probably,” she says lowly, most likely hoping I wouldn’t hear the doubt in her voice.
Her muttered probably leads me to think it’s just too early for a positive pregnancy test, and I mentally cross my fingers.
Since I had already paid for the appointment before she was led back to the patient room, we’re able to walk right out to the truck, gray clouds darkening the sky, threatening to pour. I hope the storm blows over by the end of tomorrow instead of bleeding into Thursday.
Goldie snags my truck keys from my back pocket as I buckle Lily into her car seat. By the time I’ve finished adjusting Lily’s straps to make sure they’re tightened properly, Goldie is already in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition over. I try to yank open the driver’s side door, but she’s pushed the manual lock down.
“Open the door, Goldie.”
She gives me a shit-eating grin. “No.”
“That’s one.” I yank on the handle. “Now, open the door.”
“No. I’m driving.”
“So help me god, Goldie—”
“So help me god, Davis,” she mocks, rolling her eyes. “I’ll leave your butt here if you don’t get in the passenger side and let me drive.”
“Two.” I yank the door handle.
She puts the truck in reverse.
“That’s three,” I hiss, then jog around the front of the truck in case she’s tempted to back up over me if I run around the tailgate. She’s already reversing out of the parking spot before I have the passenger side door closed.