Chapter 20 #2
Last night, all he did was jerk off in the shower, and he still cuddled me the rest of the night.
If I let him come inside me, he’s probably not going to let me go for hours.
He’s going to be sweet and gooey, and if we’re lucky, Donovan will stick to his schedule well enough that at some point tonight, Blaise will have another chance, and he’ll fuck the life out of me.
That’s what I want. All of it. I want him to love me, if just for tonight.
So I do my best to hide my discomfort over those two fingers, turning my wince into a whimper of pleasure. The doc cleared me two weeks ago, but everything’s sensitive. I’m ready for this; I just gotta power through it.
And then Blaise is going to hold me. He’s going to take care of me. He’s going to like me. It’ll be worth it.
He works his fingers in and out, unable to do anything without a cruel comment. “Did that guy have a tiny dick, or is he so pathetic even a whore like you rejects him?”
I throw my arms around Blaise’s neck, as much to get myself closer to his cock as to steel myself to lecture despite his torment. “Emerson’s a good man,” I bite out as clearly as I can, but Blaise grabs me from under my thighs to hoist me up. “He’s a friend.”
“Not anymore,” he snorts, turning with me clinging to him and strolling right past the bed.
“Didn’t be shitty. You’re better than that.”
He smacks my ass lightly as he sets me down on my workbench, thankfully cleared since I gave Emerson some projects.
He splits my legs and again fingers me roughly, but I’m ready for it this time.
“Say that again after I’ve destroyed this pussy.
This is all you are to me, you got that?
And I’m going to wreck you. Because you’re just a cunt. ”
But his eyes are twinkling. He’s being playful with his words. So I’m not concerned when he grabs me by the neck, this time right over my windpipe, and squeezes carefully.
He leans in and whispers in my ear, “You’re sure you’re ready?”
It’s just words. It’s just a game. He’s crazy, but he’s a good man. A careful one.
I lean right into that hand so I can kiss him.
He holds the kiss and the fingers in my pussy, but he releases my throat to dig into his duffel bag.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Condom.”
“Oh, we don’t need that yet, right? I mean, my cycle hasn’t started back up yet, so—”
He doesn’t even let me finish before he flips me roughly, bending me over the bench and spanking my ass hard.
“Blaise!”
“Why are you fucking like this?” he snarls, spanking my ass again.
“Like what?”
“You really ready to get knocked up all over again? Fucking shit, Tilly, is this just all a fucking game to you?”
I attempt to flip back over to chew him out for being a dick, but he pins me down between the shoulder blades.
“You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that? And you’re going to ruin lives with this.”
“Stop!” I whine, and he responds with another smart spank. But then he manages to fish out a condom and roll it on while holding me down.
“You asked for this,” he growls before slamming his cock into me.
I did ask for this. I practically begged for it. And I thought I was ready for it, but it burns. Holy shit, it burns.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I squeak, clenching and twisting beneath him, burying my forehead against my palm, desperate to work through the pain.
Blaise freezes.
He pulls out slowly, excruciatingly slowly, but he says nothing. He keeps hold of my hips, but it’s more supportive than anything.
I take a big breath, steady myself, then push back. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. “I asked for this.”
He spanks me harder than before, but then he slides himself back in, slow and steady.
Spank.
Slide.
Spank slide.
Every strike of his hand, sometimes on the right and sometimes left but not in an obvious pattern, stings a little more.
The way he fills me is too much and not enough, working me until I’m nothing but a whimpering, drooling bruise, begging him to hurt me, to finish me, to love me, but the words are long gone.
When he rolls me back to face him, I swear the edge of the table is lined with razor blades for the way they cut into my ass.
But I’m too mindless to do anything but obey when he tells me to look at him, right in his eyes, as he comes inside me.
I melt into nothing.
He holds me close for what feels like an eternity after he comes, and then he whispers, “You fucking ruined my life, you know that?”
He peels himself off me and stalks to the bathroom.
But then, thirty seconds later, he returns with a warm, damp towel and my fluffiest bathrobe.
“Are you sure it’s a good time for me to go?
” I ask Joss for probably the millionth time before I leave.
This is the best day for my trip; not only are the boys all at training camp, but Blaise isn’t even in the country.
When he left for camp, he said he wouldn’t be coming home for two weeks, but I know Blaise.
If he can figure out a way to sneak out for the night, he’ll do it.
And he’s called me every night, coerced me into phone sex half the time, although his sex drive is enough that I only pretended to get off while really giving my vagina a much-needed break.
I had no idea what I was unleashing that day Emerson visited. Not that I had control over any of it to begin with.
It’s been a month since then, and it’s been good. Great. Weird. Blaise.
He sang Donovan to sleep three nights ago when nothing I did would calm him.
The day the boys left and I migrated up to Joss’s place — her baby’s coming any day now, and Gabe didn’t want her to be alone when she goes into labor — Blaise had me set my phone in Donovan’s lap so they could video chat while I drove.
Donovan usually passes out in the car, but not that trip.
Joss points down at her studio, a renovated barn behind the ancient two-story house she and Gabe live on the second floor of, her fabric shop taking up the entire first floor.
Rose and Iris, easily identified by their hair, are dragging a wagon filled with quilting supplies into the studio.
“They’ve booked a couple of long-arms all morning, and then there’s a big beginner quilting class tonight.
I’m just going to hang out down there. I won’t be alone for a second.
You know Iris and Rose will set up camp in there if there’s even a chance I’ll go unsupervised. ”
It sounds good. Iris and Rose are as frail as fall leaves in January, but they’re loud. If Joss goes into labor, they’ll call for the brigade.
“Right. I just promised Gabe I wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“You said you’d be back in six hours. Your dad hasn’t met Donovan yet? That’s insane! When was the last time you even saw him? I can’t remember the last time you said you were going up there.”
Technically, never. It’s complicated. And I thought it would be weird trying to explain my situation to Joss or Cora, so I never did.
Cora comes from a perfect family. Her mom still cooks family dinner every Sunday even though both Cora and her brother are adults with important jobs that have them forever traveling.
But Cora still makes it every Sunday she can.
Well, except when she’s at the stadium cheering the Jugs on. But her family understands that. Her family is so close they probably know she’s been having a weird semi-fling with Merrick Briggs since last season.
Joss doesn’t have family. She was raised by a single mom who was Joss’s hero until she passed away when Joss was in college, and that put Joss on a terrible path with an abusive husband who turned out to be an actual monster.
She still grieves for her mom, and the way she talks about Gabe’s family, her eyes all dewy with affection, the way she’s already gone out to Minnesota twice and they’ve come here once and his mom is literally flying into town tomorrow to help with the early newborn days?
Yeah, I don’t think she’d understand if I tried to explain why I haven’t seen my dad in two years.
Because I’m weak, and I can’t handle the bad days with him. I can barely handle the good days, and from what the nurses have told me, the good days are getting rarer and rarer.
“The cancer kind of messed everything up,” I tell Joss.
It’s a good answer. I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of that answer.
It’s what I tell Blaise every time he pushes me about saying we didn’t need a condom.
It was just that one time, but he just keeps needling me about it, like he knows I’m lying and wants to wring the answer out of me instead of calling me out and being done with him.
So yeah, I told him the doctors said I couldn’t get pregnant after they removed my cancer-ridden ovary, and that’s why I let John fuck me without a condom. And since I haven’t started my cycle yet since having Donovan, I figured we were in the clear.
He spent half a second looking it up before waving his phone in my face as evidence that yes, absolutely, women are fertile before their cycles start again, even with only one ovary. Which I already know, but I . . .
I don’t know. I don’t know why I told him we didn’t need protection.
And after he hate-fucked me over it, he spent the rest of the day as gentle with me as he is with Donovan, holding me and snuggling me and making me breakfast for dinner, complete with those eggs he has such strong opinions about. So I guess we both got what we wanted.
“It’ll be good to see him again,” Joss declares with a huge smile, and God, her heart must just be so full with this perfect life she truly deserves. I can see why it wouldn’t even cross her mind that it might be painful for me to visit the man I’ve shared so many wonderful stories about.
He was a good man. Is a good man. Was. I don’t know.
“You’ll call me the second anything feels off, right? I can turn that car around any time. I don’t even know why I said I was thinking about driving up there. I take it back.”
Joss rubs her belly and basks in the sun, radiant. “Go. You need this. You’ve been all sad since Blaise left. You miss him.”
“Do not.”
She tilts her head just enough to side-eye me wickedly, the Lady Madonna with a dirty secret. “You miss his dick.”
I gasp, genuinely shocked. Joss doesn’t say stuff like that. She’s a quilter, for God’s sake. “I—what? No!”
“Don’t lie to me. Blaise kissed you when you dropped him off on Sunday.”
“He kissed me on my head! And he was already kissing Donovan, so it would have looked weird if he hadn’t.”
“His hands were all over you at the party on Saturday.”
“He was all pissy because he thought I drank too much.” Not even a joke. When I cracked open the second can of margarita, he got on my case. And yeah, okay, it turned out it was too much alcohol, but it was kind of Blaise’s fault because he made me feel like I had to drink the whole second can.
“And then dragged you to his old room?”
“Oh my God, he’s such a dick that he was making sure I pumped and dumped my milk.”
Right into his mouth.
While he fingered me.
And it should have been weird and gross. We’re not doing that again. But he keeps bringing it up again in the middle of phone sex, how badly he wants to suck the milk out of my tits while he fucks me, and it’s made me squirm in my underwear.
Dammit.
Joss waggles an eyebrow at me. “You know, I was warning Gabe that post-pregnancy sex might come with some unexpected lactation, and he was really interested in that.”
“Eww, gross. I’m leaving. Call me if you drop a baby.”