Chapter 23 #2
She grins mischievously and makes a beeline for the doorway.
I take a blanket and pillow from Gus’s bed and manage to tuck him in without moving him too much.
The way his hair falls onto his forehead makes him look so much younger, and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like as a toddler.
I have the pictures Deidre gave me, but Gus is so animated in real life that it’s pretty much the same.
Last summer, I felt nervous more than anything else at the thought of having him for eight weeks by myself.
It was fun, and we had a good time, especially at the end when we finally found our rhythm, but this year has been a blast. I’m pretty certain that because of how often we talked, messaged, and FaceTimed throughout the year, it was easier to find our groove right away. We just clicked.
Even when we added Markie to the mix.
I stare at the closed door leading to my room and wonder what it feels like to live this way all the time. Me and Markie, Gus, and maybe other kids—our children together. What would that dynamic look like?
I allow myself to think about that, to feel the way the image seems to take over. How it starts low in my stomach and spreads throughout my body until I think I can’t possibly hold it anymore.
It. The idea of us as a family.
It’s the messiest sensation I’ve ever experienced. An ache, yet stillness. Constriction and freedom. An absolute peacefulness that comes with a striking burst of fear.
But none of that matters because it can’t happen. I can’t stay or ask her to go. My life is elsewhere, and hers is here, and that’s the unfortunate reality I’m living in.
I came here to learn to be a father, and I’ve accidentally found what could’ve been my home.
Life’s a bitch sometimes.
I whisper a prayer over my son, then head for the bedroom.
“That took long enough,” Markie says as I close the door behind me. I look up to find her on the bed just as I requested—without a stitch of clothing on her delectable body. She’s lying on her side facing me, her heavy tits hanging perfectly from her chest.
“I’m going to start giving you requests more often.”
“Ask, and you shall receive,” she says, giggling.
You better mean that. I hide a grin, heading to my closet and pausing only to turn on the television. She gives me a curious look as I walk by her.
“I checked my email, and we got the brackets for the tournament,” she says. “They’re starting the games on Thursday this year. Something about there being a parking conflict with a church ice cream social at the park on Sunday.”
“When do we play?”
“Thursday at two thirty. It should be fine, right? I mean, we’ve practiced a lot, and our chemistry is great.
” She sighs. “I really wanted to get in one or two doubles matches before then. But with the wedding prep tomorrow, and then the wedding Saturday, and then Lolly’s on Sunday, that only leaves three days next week, and I know the courts will be packed. ”
I slide my shirt and shorts off, tossing them in the laundry basket by the closet door. “We’re going to be fine.”
She groans. “I hope so.”
I rifle through a stack of T-shirts until I find what I’m looking for. “You worry too much.”
“Yeah, probably.”
I come back into the room and toss the shirt on the bed beside her. “Put that on.”
She picks it up, confused. “What is it?”
I hop onto the bed and get situated at the headboard. “It’s a practice shirt.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, not sure whether to laugh or not.
“Put. It. On.” I palm my dick and stroke it, watching her expectantly. “You’re wasting time.”
“Whatever.” She slides the deep purple cotton over her head. It’s too big and hangs off her narrow frame like a dress. It’s adorable. “Happy now?”
“I’ll be happy when you’re riding my cock, and I’m looking at my name above your ass while you’re coming.”
“Feeling desperate, Mr. Plath?”
Absofuckinglutely.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “I need to be inside you.”
“What are you thinking? Reverse cowgirl? I feel like that’s the vision.”
I pull her face to mine and kiss her roughly. “You’re a fast learner.”
She sighs, but I can tell she’s amused, as she gathers the fabric at her waist and straddles me backwards. Hovering over me, her round ass is perfectly placed for my palms.
“It’s going to go so deep this way,” she says, wrapping her hand around my cock. “This is going to feel so good.”
“I know.”
She moans as she sinks down on me inch by inch. I hiss, shivering from the tightness of her pussy and how hot and ready she is for me.
“Oh, my gosh,” she groans, taking me in as far as she can. Her head falls back, the ends of her hair dusting against my wrists as I squeeze her ass cheeks. “This is amazing.”
I flex my hips, craving the friction. “Let’s go, babe. Ride this dick.”
She begins to move, grinding back and forth, rolling her hips in slow circles.
I gather the hem of the shirt and hold it at her waist. The shape of her body is such a turn-on. Full hips. Rounded ass. The wicked curve of her waist.
And sitting just above that, my fucking name.
“You have no idea how sexy it is to see you like this with Plath printed on your back.” I hiss again, rocking into her. “You’re lucky I didn’t rip that Landry shirt off you today.”
She changes her strategy and begins bouncing up and down, her ass jiggling.
“That really bothered you, didn’t it?” she asks, her giggle turning into a moan.
“More than you know.” I reach around her, massaging her tits, feeling the weight of them in my hands. “You’re so fucking sexy, Markie. I could come right now.”
She slows, and the shift in tempo is excruciating. She peeks over her shoulder, flashing me the most devious smile. “Not yet.”
I growl as she leans forward, gripping my shins with both hands. From this angle, I can see and feel everything.
The pink of her pussy. The way her body grips my cock as she slides it in and out of her. The way her tits brush against my legs with each movement.
Fuck. Me.
“Do you feel how hard you are?” she asks, sucking in a breath. “I feel your cock swelling. You want to come, don’t you?”
I smack her ass. The crack of my palm breaks through the room, mixing with her moan. “Hey, don’t get too loud.”
“Fuck,” she whispers. “I forgot.”
“If you forget again, I’ll put your face in the pillows and fuck you from behind.”
She laughs. “Oh, darn. I’d hate that so much.” She widens her knees, changing the angle, and working me faster and deeper.
I’m coated in her juices as she grinds on me. Blood rushes to my head as an orgasm builds, my brain going fuzzy as I watch her little cunt practically beg for my cum.
“Oh,” she moans, pounding her pussy down the length of my shaft. “Jory!”
“Shh.” I half growl, half groan. “I don’t want to stop you when you’re this close, but you gotta be quiet.”
“I’ll try!” She gasps, her breath shaking as she struggles to contain herself. “I can’t …”
I hear the panic in her voice. I’ve heard it before. This is the precipice of her orgasm and I know my girl. She’s gonna get loud.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around her and guiding her back onto my chest.
She pants, her eyes starting to roll, as I play with her nipples.
“You can’t scream, remember?” I whisper in her ear, chuckling. “Come on. You gotta behave.”
She turns her head so she can look me in the eye with a coy grin on her lips. “I don’t think I can.”
I pull out of her, tossing her onto the bed beside me. She yelps at the sudden movement, the sound breaking into a giggle.
“Face down,” I say, sliding an arm around her middle. “Ass up.”
She folds her body, bringing a pillow to her face as I line the head of my cock up with her opening.
“Don’t. Scream,” I say through clenched teeth just before I hammer into her.
She screams. Thankfully, the pillow deadens most of it.
“I’m going to come in about five fucking seconds,” I say as I drive my cock into her soaked flesh.
Her muscles quiver around me and her body begins to shake. I flex against her and explode while buried all the way in.
“Fucking hell, Markie,” I groan, trembling with the force of my orgasm.
The muffled sounds of her own climax hitting her make mine last even longer.
Finally, when I’m empty and she’s practically collapsed, held up only by my forearm beneath her, I slowly slide out of her. Then I guide her gently to the bed and lie beside her.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, then giggles. “You just fucked up.”
I drag her across the mattress until her back is flat against my chest.
“If that’s what I get for wearing a Landry shirt, consider that my new uniform,” she says, all too pleased with herself.
I kiss the top of her head. “I wouldn’t. Next time, I’ll tie your ass up. Ball gag you, maybe.”
“Promise?”
I fall back on the bed and shake my head. “There’s no winning with you.”
“Oh, the state of my thighs would beg to differ.”
I chuckle as she scoots over and lays her head on my chest.
We need to get up and take a shower, and I probably need to pick Gus up off the living room floor. But there’s something wonderful about lying here with her in my arms, in the quiet house, with the rain starting up again outside.
This is the shit movies are made about. It’s a scene I’ve watched countless times and didn’t think was real.
But it is real. She’s real.
And she’s wearing my shirt and everything about this moment feels more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.
It feels like … more.
“One day, you’ll find it—that missing part of your life that you never knew existed. Your life will be filled with something more beautiful and special than you could ever dream, and that’s what I want for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
This is it. This is what she was describing—the thing I never really thought I’d find. But I did. Markie is more. Still, what I said to Gus stands. Our lives don’t intersect outside of Sugar Creek.
Isn’t there any way to make her mine?