“It makes me want to take this pussy over and over again until my dream comes true.”
Another mention of having a baby together. And this time, just like last, I have no desire to question or fight his words and wants because his fingers are inside me, stroking me, bringing me to yet another orgasm.
“You want that, don’t you? You want me to fuck you hard, drain my balls into your tight little cunt, rock you back onto your neck and shoulders and let my cum marinate inside you until we make a baby.”
Color and noises explode around me, even though my eyes are pulled tightly shut. “Fuck, Beau,” I whine as his thumb comes down on my clit, hard.
“Ride my fingers, ride my fingers and pretend it's my cock buried deep in you, pretend you’re mine forever, and we’re making a baby.”
From the headboard, my hand smacks the mattress with a whack. My fingers grip the sheets so hard my nails bend back, and my knuckles throb. “Yes,” I moan because when I imagine a gold band on his finger and the sound of a few Jett’s running around this house, I feel so good.
“I’m cumming,” I rasp, lifting my head just in time to watch his solid fingers disappear into me, giving me the last touch I need. He groans and curses as my pussy hugs and milks his fingers, my mind flooded with all sorts of things. Gone is the guilt. Replacing it? The idea of forever with him.
I’ve thought about it before. But now he’s vocalized it.
I don’t know what to say, but I’m saved by a knock at the front door. Beau drops the towel over my pussy as he empties me. “I’ll go take care of it. You rest.”
“You were the one who needed the nap,” I tell him, though I yawn right after the words leave my mouth.
He smiles, and for a few seconds, I feel completely, disgustingly happy. Until I remember that I’m a bad guy.
I’ve done something. I’ve hidden it. And that is not the foundation to a healthy forever.
“Yeah, but you need your rest for what I’m going to do to you later.”
I smile, and I don’t want to break this incredibly bonded, romantic spell we seem to be under lately, but I can’t live with myself much longer.
“Can we talk after the party, before you destroy my body with your big dick and talented tongue?”
His grin broadens. “God, I love a woman with a dirty mouth.” He winks. “Enjoy your nap.”
With that, he’s sealing me in the room with my sleepy son, both incredibly sated and happy, and in equal measure, terrified of coming clean. But I know I have to. And I will. Right after the party.
* * *
“Dude,it’s cool; don’t worry about it, alright?” Beau’s voice carries over the hushed chatter of my parents and Goldie, who are huddled around the charcuterie board picking out all of their favorite things.
Miller is peering lifelessly into a plastic bag. “I’m so stupid,” he groans.
Beau slaps a hand between his shoulder blades, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Seriously, man, Beck won’t mind.”
“But Jett,” Miller counters, his voice rocky with emotion. I narrow my gaze and cross the room to where they stand in the kitchen.
“No, dude, Jett’s one. He can’t play anyway.”
Miller catches my gaze as I walk up, smiling but looking deflated.
“Hey Miller, thanks for coming,” I say, pulling him into a greeting hug. He hugs me back and even his hug feels empty and sad. “What’s wrong?” I ask when I notice the scowl hanging from his face.
“I wanted to help Beau with today. I wanted to be supportive of everything so I begged him to give me something to help with.”
“That’s sweet,” I smile, but when my eyes go to Beau, he widens his as if to warn me I’m heading into rough territory. I turn back to Miller who is shoving both hands through his hair like he just single handedly lost the World Series. “What’s the matter?”
Miller’s hands fall into the bag, and a moment later, he produces a packaged game. On the front reads “Pin the Junk on the Hunk” and inside the cellophane envelope are what seems to be hundreds of various sized cocks. Behind it, a poster. By the way it’s folded, all I can see is the smooth groin of a cartoon man.
“I was supposed to get Pin the Tail on the Donkey, but I ordered it for pick up and didn’t check while I was in the store.”
Atticus, who arrived first and has spent most of his time here glaring at Goldie or talking pickups with my dad, sidles up just in time to make Miller feel that much worse.