Baumgartners Empty Nest (The Baumgartners)
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Authors: Selena Kitt
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For the first time in years, Carrie Baumgartner doesn’t have any chicks in the nest—all the fledglings have flown the coop and she’s finally got her sexy, energetic husband all to herself! Doc suggests they take advantage of this newfound freedom, and his adventurous wife has no objections. She intends to enjoy their little nest, preferably in every room, in every position they can possibly imagine.
But an empty house has its echoes, and while Doc buys a new muscle car and considers retiring from his practice to mark his mid-life crisis, his wife experiences a much deeper quandry. Carrie has been in communication with someone from her past, and their relationship has blossomed into something no one expected. Things with Jody are so intense, it scares her a little, and even her usually open-minded husband has his reservations.
When Carrie and Doc go on a hot, fun-in-the-sun vacation to their Florida Keys timeshare, couple time is interrupted by a very sexy, but distraught third. Jody’s in trouble and has nowhere else to turn. Of course, the Baumgartners offer their assistance—and even their bed. But this is the kind of threesome the polyamorous couple could never have imagined, even in their wildest fantasies, and it’s about to turn everything upside down.
If you thought the Baumgartners were uninhibited before, you’re about to see what it’s like when they really let their freak-flag fly. Join them down where it’s hot, moist and humid—and where the surprises sometimes come faster than they do!
IF YOU LIKE THE BAUMGARTNERS,
you may want to have more fun with this family!
Listed in Chronological Order
Baumgartner Generations: Janie
Baumgartner Generations: Henry
It was the wedding invitation that finally did her in.
Which was ridiculous, because she knew it was coming. Carrie had talked to Libby just the week before, about going to help her future daughter-in-law pick out her wedding dress, and Libby had mentioned that she and Henry had finished writing out the envelopes. Which likely meant that Libby had finished them. Carrie knew her son well, and Henry had never been one for sitting still too long in one place with a pen and paper if he could help it.
But when she saw that creamy white envelope and the calligraphic script, felt the weight of the thing in her hand, it made it all real. Her baby was getting married.
And it was even sillier, because Janie had already gotten married, and they’d been grandparents for quite a while now.
So when Doc came in and found her sitting cross-legged on the big kitchen island counter, a wine glass in one hand, the invitation in the other—by that point, Carrie was just a great big mess of tipsy tears—she had a hard time telling him what, exactly, was the matter. Because she knew how absurd it sounded.
She was honestly overjoyed that Henry and Libby were getting married. She’d even given her son his grandmother’s wedding ring, the one Carrie had been wearing since she’d married Steven “Doc” Baumgartner, the one he’d proposed with, down on one knee in the wet sand. It had been his mother’s ring, and her mother’s before that.
Carrie liked thinking of that lineage, of her daughter-in-law wearing that ring, and passing it down to her son or daughter someday. Carrie didn’t have any family of her own—the Baumgartners were her only family. Henry would pass on the Baumgartner name, and that ring would be passed down, too. It made her happy to think about it—but it made her sad, too. She looked down at her left hand, still empty. Doc had promised her another ring, but had yet to deliver.
“What’s this all about?” He cocked his head, seeing her up on her perch.
She took a gulp of her wine and tasted the salt of her own tears on her lips.
Doc shrugged off his coat and flung it and his briefcase onto the table, coming over to the island where she sat. Carrie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, she handed over the invitation, feeling the weight of it as it slipped from her hand into his. Doc read the envelope and then slid the invitation out. The little RSVP card fluttered to the floor along with a bit of tissue paper as he scanned the contents of the card.
“I don’t see any tragedies here.” He squinted at it, looking closer. “Everything seems spelled right. Did they get someone’s name wrong?”
“No, it’s perfect.” Carrie let out a strangled little laugh. “Perfectly perfect.”
“So then… what are the tears about?” Doc’s brow wrinkled as he tossed the invitation onto the island beside her, putting a palm on either side of her and leaning in closer. His dark eyes searched hers. How many times had she looked into those eyes over the years? She wondered. She couldn’t hide much from this man, not anymore. He knew her like no one else ever had, or likely, ever would.
“Doc…” She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She didn’t know how to say it, how exactly to express the ache in her chest. “Oh Doc, I knew it was coming, but… getting it in the mail… I don’t know….”
“Honey, you helped Libby pick out the wedding invitations,” he reminded her gently, a little smile playing on his lips. “We kind of knew this day was coming.”
“I know.” She sniffed, putting her glass of wine down and wrapping her arms around his neck. Doc stepped in closer, letting her put her cheek against his shoulder as he slipped his arms around her waist. “It’s just that… I guess this means the nest is officially empty.”
He chuckled. “The kids haven’t lived here full time in years.”
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. It wasn’t rational—she couldn’t explain it. But every time she thought about watching Henry walk his long-time-girlfriend, now-fiancée, down the aisle, her eyes filled up with tears. “You know who I’ve been thinking about today?”
“Me?” Doc nuzzled her neck, nosing her thick, honey-colored hair out of the way. “I didn’t want to go in this morning. You looked so delicious when I came out of the shower, all naked and sleeping. You make me want to take every day off and spend every minute in bed with you.”
“Besides you.” She smiled, tilting her chin up, letting him feather kisses over her collarbone. His mouth gave her shivers, his breath hot between her cleavage.
“Who?” he murmured, clearly distracted by the swell of her breasts. She’d had two showings of a house today and had dressed sexy-but-professional. Her blouse was a creamy, rose-colored satin, unbuttoned two buttons, just enough to draw attention to the curve of her breasts, but not too much.
“Holly.”
His head came up at the mention of her name, his eyebrows rising in surprise. It had been a surprise to her too. It wasn’t that she didn’t often think about the baby they’d almost adopted. She did. She wondered about her, about where she was, how she was, after their paths had diverged. Although, to be honest, she thought about it less and less over the years. Mostly on the anniversaries—Holly’s birthday, the day of her placement with them in foster care. The day she was taken away.
But today, she’d actually dug into the back of her desk drawer and found the envelope, a pink congratulations card inside they’d received soon after Holly’s placement. Also inside were pictures, what she had left, of the brief time she’d held the baby in her arms. She’d never gotten pregnant easily, and being a foster child herself, Carrie had been keen on fostering at least one baby. Holly’s arrival had been a dream come true, in so many ways. She had been symbolic of how far Carrie had come from her own time as a foster child.
But then the dream had been shattered, and they had agreed, no more. It would be too painful to go through that kind of loss again, Doc argued—and he’d been the one to hold her when she woke sobbing at night, or felt like she couldn’t get out of bed in the morning because the sorrow weighed so heavily—and she knew he was right. She had told herself, even when Holly lived with them, that she shouldn’t get attached, but she couldn’t help herself. So she had mourned the loss of Holly, and then of the idea of having another baby at all.
But today, thinking about Henry getting married, of having babies of his own soon, had made her think of what it was like to hold a baby in her arms again.
“No baby-fever, Mrs. Baumgartner.” He slowly tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt in back, his big hands gliding over her skin. “We’re grandparents for God’s sake.”
“Oh, I know.” She pulled him closer, parting her thighs, letting her skirt ride up as she squeezed him between her thighs. “I wasn’t considering it. I was just… thinking about it.”
Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was a grandmother—she didn’t feel old enough to be one. But Janie and Josh’s wedding had been a grand New York affair, and the baby who followed the sweetest little girl in the world. Eden, they’d called her, and to Carrie, who could hardly put the little pink bundle down during her first visit after the birth, her granddaughter was paradise on earth. But Janie and Josh and Eden were far away, in New York, and while she hated watching her grandbaby grow up via bi-weekly Skype sessions, she knew they couldn’t move to New York. And Josh was an agent, he had to stay where the money was, even if Janie could write anywhere. Besides, Doc’s practice was here. Their roots were here.
“What were you thinking, exactly?” Doc lifted her chin, studying her face, his dark eyes quizzical. “You miss being a mama?”
“Not exactly.” She wrinkled her nose. That much was true. Late night feedings and walking the floor with a baby were in the past. She enjoyed doing it with her granddaughter—but she also enjoyed giving Eden back to her mama. Being a grandparent was like the best of both worlds. “I don’t want to be a new mother again. I just… I guess I feel like I’m standing on a dock, watching a boat sail away into the sunset that I just know I’m never going to see again. It makes me sad.”
“You think your ship has sailed?”
“I know it has.” She gave a long, deep sigh. Doc chuckled, shaking his head and burying it in her hair, arms encircling her. His hand moved up the soft skin of her back, under her blouse, finding the hooks of her bra and expertly releasing them. She sighed in relief, shaking her shoulders and letting her bra loosen. She hadn’t realized how constricted she felt.
“Well, maybe that ship has sailed,” he murmured against her ear, his breath warm, making her melt against him. “But what if I told you, there’s another ship waiting at the dock. Just waiting for you to climb on board.”
“What’s on that ship?” She snorted. “Gray hair, saggy tits and dentures?”
“Mmm—maybe, someday.” His palms slid over her ribcage, moving up to cup her bare breasts in his hands, moving her bra fully out of the way. “But right now, they still feel pretty damned firm to me.”
“I don’t want to get fat and wear Depends.” She leaned back a little to look at him, but his gaze was on her chest, at his hands caressing her under her blouse. “Do you know what I found the other day? A gray hair in my eyebrows!”
He chuckled. “You’d probably find gray in your pubic hair too, if you had any.”
“Doc!” She laughed and slapped his shoulder.
“Look at me.” He cocked his head, side to side, showing her his temples, where streaks of silver were starting to show in his thick, dark curls. “I’m embracing my gray.”
“Oh, it just makes men look more distinguished,” she scoffed. His hands kneaded her flesh, and she gasped when his thumbs brushed her nipples. She watched him heft the weight of her breasts in his hands, shaking her head. “You don’t know the struggle. Someday, gravity is going to drag these girls to the floor.”
“And my balls will be right there with them.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. Doc’s head dipped to her chest, pressing her breasts together and kissing her cleavage. Carrie ran her fingers through his hair, smiling at the delight he still took in her body.
“And that’s okay, because you know what?” Doc’s voice was muffled and his five o’clock shadow left her skin red as he rubbed his cheek over her cleavage.
“We’ll be in the same boat?” she guessed, watching him work the buttons on her blouse.
“That ship might have sailed, baby, but your ship has just come in and I’m on it.” Doc grinned, pulling the tail end of her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt.
“Oh, is that what’s on that ship?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“That’s right.” He parted her blouse, sliding it down her shoulders, leaving her sitting topless on the kitchen island. His gaze swept hungrily over her and Carrie felt her ass clench, very aware of the moist throb between her legs. “And look around. We have it all to ourselves.”
“We do, don’t we?” Her eyes lit up when he leaned in and took her bare breasts in his hands again, his tongue make the circles she loved. It drove her wild and she moaned, squirming on the counter.
“How long has it been since you’ve stepped on a Lego?” He stopped to ask, raising one eyebrow at her.
“Or wiped ketchup off the walls,” she mused, looking around her pristine kitchen. Nothing was out of place anymore, because it was only the two of them.
“Or listened for one of the kids creeping up the stairs…” He paused to switch to her other breast, sucking to make it even harder.
“Have to avoid that last one,” Carrie gasped, looking at him through half-closed eyes. “It creaks.”
“Fifth one, too.” He smiled. “I still have to avoid it when I do midnight fridge raids.”
“You’re gonna get fat before I do if you keep it up.” She reached out to squeeze his love-handles, but there really weren’t any. Her hands just slipped over the hard surface of his abdomen. Doc was still just as fit as he’d been when they met in college. He’d been born with a great metabolism, the lucky jerk, even if he got up at midnight to raid the freeze for ice cream.
“It will just make me look distinguished right?” He laughed when she slapped his shoulder again, and reached out to cup her face in his hands. “I love seeing you smile.”
His mouth captured hers, kissing her softly. Carrie let out a little breath, surrendering to him, letting her body relax into his, the buttons on his shirt biting into her chest as their kiss deepened. No one knew how to kiss her like Doc. His tongue eased between her lips, velvety soft, stroking the roof of her mouth, sending tingly little shivers through her.
Doc’s hands moved to her behind, pulling her closer, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as the kiss deepened, their tongues meshed, her breasts pressed against his hard chest. She began to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feel his hot skin against hers. Her hands roamed over his chest, her fingernails gently grazing his nipples. Her skirt rode up high, revealing the tops of her thigh-high stockings and the already damp crotch of her panties.
“When was the last time you were topless on the kitchen counter?” Doc breathed, squeezing and kneading her ass, his mouth trailing down her neck. “Can’t do this with kids around.”
“You have an excellent point.” She chuckled as he pushed her down so she was flat on her back on the island, legs hanging over the edge. Doc grabbed her glass of wine before it ended up on the floor, reaching back to put it on the kitchen counter next to the microwave.