Abby #2
“Excuse me, can you hand me one of the blue bags from the top shelf?”
Misha obliges, but the boy lingers.
“How did you get so tall? My mom says I still have growth spurts to go, but I’m not nearly as tall as my dad, and some of the boys at school say I’ll never get any taller.”
Without hesitation, Misha kneels next to the boy. I can’t hear their entire hushed conversation, but I catch snippets.
“Your mom is right…Plenty of vegetables…Work hard in school and at recess…You like to play baseball? Keep it up…”
By the time he scurries off to rejoin his family, the boy is smiling ear to ear. Misha catches my smirk.
“What?”
I shrug, handing him my selections as we head to the register.
“You’re really good with kids. Really good.”
“Eh, it’s not like it’s hard. Get on their level, and don’t make things too complicated.”
Walking out at a leisurely pace toward our next destination, I ask the question I’ve been subconsciously terrified of. Based on little snippets here and there, I think I know his answer, but I need to be certain. It’s the one thing I’ve been desperate for.
“Do you want kids?” It’s less of a question and more of a blurt-ed accusation, and Misha pauses before pulling me into the shade of an alcove off the main street, as if he knows a crowd isn’t the right place to answer me.
With his head cocked to the side, eyeing me with one eyebrow raised, he looks…
confused? Maybe confused by my question.
Which means maybe I’ve read him wrong. Time to backtrack.
“I mean, you don’t have to answer that. You might not know, or you might not be sure, like, if you want them with me specifically, which makes sense since we haven’t known each other long—”
My squeal is muffled by his hand as he spins me around, firmly but gently, hiding me from the busy street with his big body.
Keeping his hand firmly in place over my mouth, the other cradles the back of my head.
Bending down to press his forehead to mine, the heat in his gaze is back, hotter than I’ve ever seen it.
“You will not speak of any other women carrying my children, Abby. Do you understand?”
I nod as best as I can between the vise grip of his hands.
“No other women are worthy, just as I’d kill any man on earth who thought he deserved the honor of you growing his baby. Do you understand?”
I nod again.
“Good. I do want children. I always have, in a nebulous sort of way. But once I found my woman, I began wanting them with a vicious, all-encompassing desire that takes my breath away every time I look at her.”
Oh my God.
“Do you want children?”
I nod. Finally, he moves his hand from my mouth and replaces it with his own, searing me with a kiss that’s too indecent for our location.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. And Abby?”
“Yes?”
“Never diminish what we have by qualifying it with the length of our relationship again. It hurts my feelings and devalues what we have needlessly.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve never felt so shitty in my life. He’s right. I need to stop minimizing our connection. The timeline doesn’t matter for a cosmic bond like ours.
“I forgive you. Now, I know exactly where I want to go next.”
Before long, we’re on a slow-moving dark ride that’s less thrill and more rest. It’s old and clearly less popular with park patrons because it’s all but deserted as we step into our cozy little car.
With Misha’s arm around my shoulders, I nestle against his chest and put my legs across his lap.
Geez, this ride really is dark. I might take a nap.
Bzzz.
Oh fuck. The plug I had forgotten about between the candy store and my ovaries exploding in the alleyway surges back to life.
Forgetting about it doesn’t mean it hasn’t been working this entire time, though.
I hadn’t noticed how wet my panties had gotten under my shirt, but now I can feel that they’re soaked through.
Before I can think about the logistics of maybe drying them covertly with a hand dryer in a bathroom, the plug begins a brand new pulsating rhythm, and I feel him.
With a gentle nudge, Misha pushes my outer leg onto the empty bench facing us in our little car.
The ride continues its slow progression through seemingly endless, mostly dark scenes, showing the park’s history and dioramas of future plans.
When I’m spread for him, the gusset of my panties sticking to me obscenely, he languidly begins to explore.
“Oh, darling. Why didn’t you tell me that you were suffering so? Is this from your toy?”
“Misha, I don’t think—” I whisper, but he cuts me off.
“That’s right, baby. You don’t think. You don’t have to. Nobody will see or hear. You saw how empty the cars in front of and behind us were, didn’t you? We’re fine. I’d never let anyone see you or hear your delicious little sounds.”
After rubbing his knuckles gently back and forth across my clit, pressing the ruined, sticky fabric of my panties into my already sensitive flesh, he finally pulls them to the side.
I’m puffy and open for him, I can feel it, and I’m literally dripped onto his fingers when he slides two in to the knuckle.
“Fuck, baby. You never answered me. Did you make all this because of your toy?”