Swan (A Sexy, Fairytale Short) (5 page)

His toothy smile pulled at every heartstring I had, and seeing his chubby little body in her arms affirmed that every day of my life had been leading up to this one with her.
 

“’Kay, let’s tackle that diaper, buddy.” I turned back to Cam, the other little man waiting patiently on me.
 

His ruddy red cheeks lifted before he babbled a string of words only he and his brother could understand.
 

Twins.
 

Boy, had my life turned a complete one-eighty with that news. I’d married Chrissy just four months after proposing, and we’d welcomed our sons less than a year after that. Cam and Collin were a blessing though. The sleepless nights and constant feedings were well worth the joy on Chrissy’s face every time one of them smiled. She’d let me name them after football players as long as I promised to let her name our future daughter after a famous ballet dancer. I’d agreed instantly. As soon as those boys entered the world, I’d realized Chrissy was born to be a mother. She was sweet and patient and nurturing. Our babies were just another gift we’d given each other.

“Momma and Daddy have a date tonight, so you boys better behave for Grandma.” She nuzzled Collin’s neck.
 

A smile split my lips. Grandma had gotten her grandbabies all right. Two-fold.
 

“You shoulda saved the messy stuff for Grandma, Cam, what were you thinking?” I teased the little boy.
 

Chrissy shook her head. “Your poor mom. I don’t know how she made it through with you.”
 

“Maybe you should ask her for advice. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be in plenty of trouble in another ten years with these two.” I fastened the diaper and snapped the onesie between his squirming legs.
 

“I don’t even want to think about it.” She laughed then set Collin on the floor.

He picked up and gnawed on a rubber ducky.
 

“Well, with any luck, they’ll be little football players. What do you think, Cam—tight end?” I lifted my boy into the air and gave him a tickle. His righteous laugh was like music to my ears.
 

“Two football stars?” She wrapped an arm around my waist. “Looks like I’ll be spending even more time at the field.” She placed a kiss at the crook of my neck and sent a shiver of glee racing through me.
 

I couldn’t wait for Grandma to get here to take the little guys. They were cute, but I needed time with my woman. Raising six-month-olds didn’t leave a lot of couple time, though thankfully Grandma took them at every opportunity.
 

A knock sounded at the door, and I heard my mother’s thick accent calling through the house. “Where’re my boys? Come to Grandma!”
 

She turned the corner, and Collin’s face lit up in a cheeky grin.
 

Without even acknowledging Chrissy or me, Momma bent to the floor and cooed to her grandson. “Can you crawl to Grandma? Let me see.” She held her hands out, and my son’s eyebrows went up.
 

“It’s a little early for that, Momma,” I said, cradling Cam.
 

“Nonsense. You teach them early, they go far.” She grinned then stood, holding out her arms to reach for my other boy.
 

I passed him over, my heart full with an outpouring of love from seeing her so happy with my sons.

 
Chrissy, the boys, my family, they were my entire world.
 

“Now let’s skedaddle.” Momma bent and lifted my other son in her generous embrace, holding them securely on each hip. “We’ve got a lot to do at Grandma’s house, and maybe your momma and daddy can work on getting you some sisters, yeah?” She winked at me.

Chrissy burst into a fit of laughter.
 

“He’s going to have to get a few more diapers under his belt before I sign up for another one.”
 

“We’ll have to see about that.” I pulled her against my body, not caring that my mom was there to witness our embrace. I wanted our boys to grow up around love, to know what love looked like so they never doubted when it finally found them. Time was short and every day counted—that’s what Chrissy had taught me.
 

“See, just wait, boys. Nine months, you have a little sister. Listen to Grandma, she knows these things,” she whispered.
 

Some days it felt like us against them with all her conspiring to bring more babies into the family.
 

I loved every second of it.
 

***

Chrissy

Trent and I walked home later after a quiet dinner and a too-long movie. I’d been waiting all day for this moment when we could finally be alone. No chubby-cheeked babies to feed, no Grandma to encourage more baby-making, no waiters to interrupt.

Just him and me.

He held my hand tightly as we made our way up the porch steps, then he unlocked the door before turning to me. He rested his forehead against mine and stole all the breath from my lungs with his sweetness. “I want to kiss you right here.”

“You don’t have to ask me anymore. I committed to your kisses a very long time ago,” I teased then pressed my lips to his in a slow kiss.
 

His hands traced across my back and fell below my waist.
 

“I’ll always ask.” He nipped at my bottom lip. “Just like I’ll always ask if you’re wet for me.” He slid a hand down my pants and rubbed my cotton-covered pussy.
 

“I’m always wet for you.” I sighed against him.
 

“Mmm, always ready and waiting for my dick?” His voice lowered an octave as his fingers spun feverishly. “I love that. I love that you need me to make this pretty pussy sing.”
 

His words urged my lust on, so I pushed my hands through his hair and kissed him with every fiber of my soul.
 

“I need to be inside you,” he whispered. His lips brushed against my ear and sent a wild shiver of desire coursing through me.
 

“I’ve been waiting all day,” I moaned.

Trent hoisted me into his arms and pushed us through the door. We were all hands and lips, tangled together as he stopped in the kitchen, our feet unable to carry us a step farther. He spun me in his arms and pressed me against the fridge. His hips rocked against mine, his rock-hard dick pressing between my legs and driving me to decadent distraction.

“That’s a girl. Purr for me.” His hand pulled at the zipper of his jeans before he was fisting his long, rigid flesh and stroking.
 

My heart leapt as I dropped to my knees and peered up at him through hooded eyelashes.

 
“I’m always desperate for your dick.”
 

I licked at the tip, a drop of pre-cum swirling against my tongue. I wanted him, all of him, every time.
 

Trent’s hands fisted in my hair, holding my head gently as his hips rocked slowly. I groaned, sinking onto his impressive erection before hollowing my cheeks and sucking until I felt him hit the back of my throat. I did it again, his quiet pants and guttural groans the only reward I needed.
 

“Jesus, Chrissy. It gets better every time. You feel better, you taste better, you love me more.” He pulled me up off the floor. “I don’t like you on your knees.” He placed a gentle kiss on my lips before lifting me onto the counter. “I like seeing your lush body when I’m inside it.”
 

He pulled the dress over my head and discarded it on the floor before he moved aside the elastic of my panties and lined up his dick with my entrance.
 

He pushed the smooth flesh through my soaked lips and sent my mind into a whole new stratosphere of pleasure. I tilted my head back against the cupboards, his palms caressing and molding my flesh before I felt the slow stretch of his dick melding with my body.

“Trent,” I sighed, locking my ankles behind his back, desperate to feel him deeper.
 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s what I like to hear.” He fucked me slowly, in long, measured strokes that built my orgasm incrementally. “You and me every day until forever.”
 

Trent’s tongue searched out mine, and he took me in a powerful kiss. Better than sex, the emotion that crescendoed between us as we came together always overwhelmed me.
 

I was happy to show him how much I loved him every single day, in every way, just as he showed me. When I’d found him again, I’d found every beautiful part of life the world had to offer.
 

I’d found every beautiful part of myself I hadn’t known existed.
 

I’d found a lifetime of love and happiness with the beautiful boy next door.

THE END.

(Turn the page to read the first chapter of
White!)

WHITE

(
Available June 5
)

by

Aria Cole

one

I shuddered, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, feeling my knees quake in the impossibly high heels that felt awkward and numbed my feet.
 

“I’m so sorry, Evie.” My foster brother and the oldest of the boys, Julian, wrapped his hand around my neck and squeezed—a comforting gesture he’d been doing since I was six and him seven.
 

“It’s all right. I knew it was coming.” I wiped at a stubborn tear and pushed my hands down the minuscule piece of sequined fabric that tickled the tops of my thighs. I hated this getup. Hated that I was being forced to do this. Hated my life.
 

I grew up in a world few could fathom and none should ever have to. It was dark, cold, ruthless. It was sex, drugs, and violence in all its extremes. I was raised in a foster family with three boys, also misplaced, and without them, I couldn’t stand tall for today.
 

For tonight.
 

For the moment I would be sold to the highest bidder.
 

“You’ve got this, Eve.” Mason tugged at my hair and then popped a kiss on the apple of my cheek before he fell onto the couch and picked up a game controller, his eyes immediately focused on the screen. He was the youngest, and helplessly addicted to the escape he’d found in online gaming just like every other teenage boy, but when other boys were sleeping, Mason was working, head down and hood up, trying to sell his stash before the dawn. None of us had been blessed with a silver spoon; we all had our burdens.
 

I shook my head. I loved these boys, and the worst part about tonight would be leaving them. Saying goodbye when all I really wanted to do was cuddle up in pajamas and watch another action movie like we’d done on so many other occasions.
 

But instead, tonight I would be sold by my foster mother. The woman who had been collecting a measly income for the majority of my childhood years to take care of me. It went to fueling her drinking habit and paying for the occasional young man to warm her bed. I knew she hated me. She hated how these men would look at me with lust in their eyes. But from the outside, we were the picture-perfect, home-schooled foster family.
 

From the moment I was placed in this house, Momma Judy, as she preferred to be called despite the fact that she was certainly no relation of mine, had always been into shady business, drug dealers and petty criminals with rotten teeth and the stench of cigarettes on their breath always stopping by. We’d never been sheltered from the darker side of their business, and the boys were sent out to make money under the table doing whatever was required to meet their weekly quota. Yes, a quota. Instead of being given an allowance like most kids, the boys were given a weekly quota—an amount of money they had to contribute, by any means necessary, to keep the family accounts balanced. Essentially, Momma Judy required them to pay their way while she blew the stipend given to us as fostered dependents. We wore rags while she wore designer labels, we ate rations while she dined on steak and champagne.
 

The boys mostly sold weed on the street, sometimes shrooms or pills on a good day. I’d fought and cried and begged Judy to not send them out that first night a few years ago. Collapsed on the floor and begged on their behalf for some shred of innocence or dignity, but she had only smiled at my desperate display before kicking them out of the house for the night. When they each returned the next morning, the light had gone out in all their eyes, and Julian had returned with a crimson and purple bruise across the side of one cheekbone and eye socket. He’d encroached on gang territory. Judy hadn’t cared, only said that lessons on the street don’t come easy. My heart cracked wide open for my boys, but we’d each had to slowly mend it in order to survive. We’d each become hardened in our own way, the boys losing hope quickly, but not me. I’d hardened my heart to Judy’s callous disregard for our innocence, but I still held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut tightly at night in fervent prayer for a miracle. I wholeheartedly believed that we were each put on this earth for something, and my thing was my boys. Us. Fighting for our lives and freedom was my sole purpose in life, the thing that drove me, even when reality more resembled a much darker side of hell than it did a childhood.
 

So how did I become exempt from the harsh treatment and financial quotas the boys were expected to maintain? I, the innocent young daughter, was the cash cow. Soon after my fifteenth birthday, when my God-given curves and full lips began to develop, I was expected to sell my body to men. At first, only kinky pictures, then pre-recorded cam shows, and by my seventeenth birthday I was doing one-on-one Skype appointments with the highest bidder. The only thing that saved my dignity in those moments was that I was clothed. Completely clothed. Fitted tank tops and short shorts, yes, all suggestive to the men that paid top dollar for an hour of my uninterrupted time, but the funny thing was, I didn’t even have to talk to them.