Proving Paul's Promise (19 page)

I take a mental picture, because I never, ever want to forget what this feels like. Click! Click! Click! I cement it in my head, because my heart is so happy it’s ready to burst, and I don’t want to let this moment go.

I don’t wake them up. Instead, I pick up some of the toys Hayley has left lying around the room. I put her dolls on the top shelf, and her trucks and matchbox cars go in the bucket at the foot of her bed.

I laugh when I see they built a big house out of building blocks and they put one of her male actions figures in there with Barbie. I look closer. Are their faces pressed together? It looks almost like they’re kissing. Leave it to Friday…

Friday sat and played with my daughter for two hours, and then she read to her and she fell asleep on her bed. I want to see this every night for the rest of my life. I want to wake Friday up and take her to my bed, but there’s something I need to do first.

There’s a possibility she’ll hate me for it, but it needs to be done. I go into the living room, pull out my phone, and search the web. It’s a huge violation of Friday’s privacy, I know, but I can’t help it. She has a son out there, and she needs to know him. And he needs to know her just as much. It only takes two wrong numbers before I find her.

“Hi, is this Jill?” I ask.

“Yes,” the lady says.

“Do you have a son named Jacob?”

“Yes,” she replies, but this time, there’s a question in her tone. “Who is this?”

“My name is Paul Reed, and I’m a friend of Friday’s. Well, she’s my girlfriend. I’m going to marry her if I can ever get her to say yes.”

The line goes silent.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“I was hoping that maybe we could talk.”

“Yes, I think we should,” she replies, and my fucking heart soars.

###

I hang up the phone and swipe a hand down my face. Either I just sealed my fate and made it so that Friday will never marry me, or I made her love me a little more. I won’t know which until tomorrow.

I go back to Hayley’s room and stare down at them for a little longer. They’ve rolled now so that they’re facing one another on their sides, and Hayley’s hand is still tucked in Friday’s. Click!

I bend over and run a hand down Friday’s hair. She stirs, her eyes opening slowly. She blinks up at me and smiles. “We fell asleep?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” I extricate Hayley from Friday’s grasp and slide my daughter under the covers. Hayley could sleep through a tornado as long as it’s still dark outside, and I don’t worry about waking her up at all. Friday leans over and presses her lips to Hayley’s cheek.

“I had fun with her tonight,” she whispers.

I jerk my thumb toward the big house they made. “I see you were busy.”

“We made a fortress for Barbie.”

That word makes me smile. “Did Barbie need a fortress?”

“All girls need a fortress. Barbie doesn’t have a dad, so she needed one more than most.” She shrugs. “Hayley and I discussed all this when she tried to convince me that girls with strong daddies don’t need big walls.” She lays a hand on my chest and looks up at me, blinking those green eyes. She’s so fucking beautiful. “You’ll always protect her heart. And if anything ever happens to you, you have four brothers who will do the same. So Hayley won’t need a fortress.”

I get it. I so get it. “You guys went that deep?”

She nods. “We did. It’s a kick-ass fortress, don’t you think?”

I kiss her forehead. “Badass. Just like you.”

She leans her head on my chest, and I palm the back of her head. “I’m not, though, Paul. I’m afraid every single day. I just hide it well.”

“Do I scare you?”

“Sometimes.”

“How about now?” I ask.

“I’m not afraid right now.” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it.

I scoop her up, and she wraps her skinny arms around my neck.

“How about now?”

“Nope.” She grins at me.

We walk toward the door. “Light,” I say.

She flips the light off, and I carry her into my room.

“How about now?” I ask.

“No,” she says quietly. I let her legs drop, and she slides slowly down my body. “I want what you want,” she whispers.

I freeze. I take her face in my hands, and she stares up at me, my palms bracketing her cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I kiss her. Kissing Friday isn’t like kissing any other woman in the world. She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted, and I drink her in. She pushes back against me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she puts her tongue in my mouth and tangles it with mine.

“God,” I breathe out, and I have to set her back from me for a second so I can get a breath.

She smirks and pulls her pajama shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and it makes my mouth water. But before I can touch her, she’s shoving her pajama bottoms down, too. Then she’s naked, and I was right. She’s almost completely shaved down there but not quite.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her eyes following mine toward her tiny little landing strip.

“You’re just so fucking pretty,” I tell her. “And I love you so fucking much.”

Her gaze drops for a second, and she climbs onto my bed, her round bottom up in the air for a second. I reach forward and slap it, and she squeaks in protest.

“I cannot believe you did that!” she cries, looking affronted.

“Oh, believe it.” I strut over to the bed and shove my jeans down over my hips. Her gaze goes to my dick, and she licks her lips. I came in her mouth this morning, and I want to come inside
her
this time. “Do I need to get a condom?” I ask.

“You think you’re going to get me more pregnant?” she asks, her lips tilted in a quirky grin that’s a-fucking-dorable.

“No,” I grunt out. “I just didn’t know if you’d be worried about other stuff.”

“I’ve seen your test results and you’ve seen mine,” she reminds me.

We work in a business where plasma sprays into the air, so we have to get tested regularly for everything.

“I haven’t done it without one in a really long time,” I admit. “I might not last for shit.”

She laughs. “Then we’ll have to do it twice.”

Hell yeah. “If you insist.” I chuckle as I climb over her and prop myself up on my elbows on each side of her head. I look down into her face and I know, inherently, in my soul, that I’m going to be with this woman for the rest of my life. I’m going to climb into her bed every day until I die. And when I’m too old to be able to fuck her, I’m going to hold her. And she’s going to hold me. Forever.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

I brush her hair back with my thumbs. “Are you sure you want to know?” I’m not sure she’s ready for shit to get real.

But she nods. “Yes.”

“I was thinking about how I want to climb on top of you when we get old and do awesome things to you.” So, I edited. But who cares?

“What if I don’t want your old ass crawling on top of me?” she asks. I freeze, because I’m suddenly scared. But she takes my face in her hands and forces me to look at her. “What if I want to get on top, instead?”

I chuckle and bury my face in her neck. The scent of her almost overwhelms me, and I lift my head and kiss her. “You can get on top anytime you want.”

“Except today,” she breathes.

“You want to get on top today?” I ask. Hell, I’ll roll over and pull her on top of me. Won’t hurt my pride at all.

“No,” she whispers. “I want you to carry me away. Take me with you where you’re going.”

“Don’t want to go without you,” I say.

She points between us. “Then you better get busy, big guy. You got some work to do.”

God, she makes me laugh. I look down at her boobs, and she’s put her piercings back in so I wrap my lips around her left one and roll it with my tongue. She pants and palms the back of my head to pull me closer to her. My dick is sitting right at the apex of her thighs, and I can feel her heat all around me, so I notch it in her cleft, where my piercing will thrum against her clit, and she nearly comes up off the bed. I kiss her breast and lick over it and under it and around it, and goose bumps rise along her arms and neck, and I fucking love that I can make her come apart like this. She has fine lines up both sides of her stomach, probably from her first pregnancy, and I tongue them gently. I like that I get to see this part of her because it’s all the scars that make up a good part of who she is.

“Paul,” she says quietly.

I lift my head and look up at her.

“I’m officially afraid,” she says.

I stop what I’m doing. “Of me?”

She snorts. “No, I’m afraid you’re never going to get to my pussy with all that licking you’re doing everywhere else,” she cries, and she shoves my head toward her heat with an impatient hand.

“God, you’re so fucking bossy,” I say, but I slide down, wiggling until her thighs part so I can settle between them. I rock from side to side and push her open wide. “Give me some room,” I say. “I have broad shoulders.”

“I’m not a contortionist,” she huffs, but she pulls her legs farther apart. Her pussy is wet and glistening, and I can see the little piece of gold sticking out from between her folds where she has her hood pierced. And she has labia piercings, too. I have honestly never kissed a pussy with so much metal on it. But good God, I’m willing.

Since she’s giving me a hard time, I don’t even go easy on her. I suck her piercing into my mouth and give it a tug.

She cries out, and she rocks into my mouth. I hook the piercing with my thumb and very gently hold it out of the way, and then I suck her clit. She fists the sheets in her hands and closes her eyes and bites down on her lower lip.

She’s already close, so I slide two fingers into her heat and tip them up, making a come-hither motion against that spongy little spot inside her that I hope will make her go crazy. She stills. “So it does exist,” she breathes.

I laugh against her clit, and she growls.

“Do that again.”

I hum, sucking in gentle strokes, and suddenly, her body bows. She grabs my head and pushes my face into her pussy, and I lick and suck until I can barely take a breath, until I get every quiver from her arching body. I pull my fingers from inside her, and she watches as I stick them in my mouth and lick them clean. She’s so fucking wet that there’s a puddle under her on the sheets, and I love that I just did that to her. I wipe my face on the sheets and climb up her body until we’re nose to nose. I’m just going to rub noses with her because I just ate her out, but she takes my lips and kisses me solidly. Her tongue slides in my mouth, and she touches me in ways no one else ever has before.

“Fuck me,” she says. I look into her eyes. I want to correct her and tell her that I want to make love to her, but I know that will get me nowhere. She fists her hands in my hair, and I’ve just about had enough of that. I made her come buckets already, so I deserve to have a little of what I want. I take her hands in mine and anchor them against the bed sheets with my weight. She struggles for a moment, and then she whispers, “Okay.” She stills beneath my weight.

“My way,” I say.

She shivers. “All right.”

Her gaze lands on my chest, and she sees the butterfly. “When did you get that?” she asks.

“Today.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you and want to keep you close to my heart.”

“The butterfly is not broken.”

“Neither are you.”

Her breath escapes her in a huge rush, and tears fill her eyes. I don’t let her wipe them away. I hold on to her hands and press against her slick hole, nudging just barely inside.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I say, my voice guttural and harsh.

I kiss her, just because I can.

I push and meet resistance. “Relax and let me in.” She’s so fucking wet that she’s slippery. “Let me in, Friday,” I say.

She turns her head to look away from me.

I whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to tell me you love me back. I can wait. I’ll still love you no matter what.”

She whispers something, but her eyes are jammed shut and she has her head turned away from me.

“What did you say?” I stop pushing, stop trying to get inside her.

She tips her face up to mine. “I do,” she says quietly.

“You do what?” I whisper back. I can feel her heat wrapped all around me, but I’m not in fully. Will I ever be?

“I do love you,” she says. She tips her hips, her body relaxes, a smile breaks across her face, and I sink inside her to the hilt. “I do love you,” she says again. She wiggles her palms from under mine and takes my face in her hands. “I love you, Paul.”

I’m in her, balls deep, but I can’t move. I can just stare into her face because I’ve never seen such acceptance and trust in her green eyes. She’s usually so wary, but she’s open under me, allowing me inside her in every way possible. I let her hands go, and she wraps them around my neck. Her feet rest on the backs of my calves and she’s so open and so trusting.

“I’m in.”

She nods, and a tear slides down the side of her face toward her hairline. I catch it with my lips, the salty taste of her like the sweetest essence against my lips. “You’re in.”

Then I move. I slide out of her, her wetness slathering me, and then I push back in. Her hips tilt so she can meet me, and I sink all the way in. I sit up a little so I can look down between us, and I watch her take me inside. When I pull back, my dick is all creamy, and she feels so fucking good.

“I can’t last long.”

“Make love to me, Paul,” she says. And she looks into my eyes. I slide my arms under her shoulders and pull her to me, and then I do as she requested. I make love to her. I fuck her. I pound in and out of her, and her cries spur me on. She murmurs sweet words of love and affection in my ear, and I close my eyes and try to hold out a little longer, but she’s so fucking tight. It’s like a hot, silky, buttery glove wrapped around my dick, squeezing me so tightly.

She comes undone around me, her walls squeezing me even tighter, and I stop moving so I can ride it out. I feel her quake around me, and without even another push, I come inside her. I soak her walls, pushing so deep I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, but she just whispers, “More,” in my ear. “More, Paul.”