Who's Your Daddy? (18 page)

Don closed his eyes and bit his lip as Isaac stood behind him. I didn’t have to look at Isaac or watch the way he moved to know when he pushed into Don. Don’s body language said it all: eyebrows knitted together. Lips apart. Spine slowly straightening as his eyes closed tighter. A long, ragged exhalation.

I thought Don groaned, but then realized it was Isaac. Holding on to Don’s hips, he took a few long, slow strokes. Then Don moved too, withdrawing from me as Isaac did from him. It was a little awkward at first, both of them trying to maintain some semblance of rhythm and fall into synch with the other. They found their stride, though.

“Holy—” The words—profanity, undoubtedly—stopped at the tip of Don’s tongue. He screwed his eyes shut and let his head fall forward, releasing a low groan as Isaac’s hips moved slowly against him. I rocked my hips back to draw him a little deeper, and Don gasped.

“Oh God…” Don opened his eyes and looked down at me. “You both feel…fucking…unbelievable…”

Isaac fucked him harder, and Don whimpered helplessly. I couldn’t look anywhere but right at Don. He’d always been so controlled, even in bed, but with every stroke either man took, he fell apart. Don’s rhythm was anything but regular, until he finally just let Isaac determine how fast either of them moved. Even breathing was difficult for him; once in a while, he’d all but stop, then suddenly release a long breath and draw in another.

I reached up and teased his nipples with my thumbnails, and a shudder made him thrust a little harder. Isaac followed suit, fucking Don until they both moaned.

Then Isaac leaned close enough to kiss beneath Don’s ear, and he whispered, “Like feeling me fuck you”—he thrust harder as if for emphasis—“while you fuck her pussy?”

Don nodded but didn’t speak. Probably couldn’t. God knew, speech was already too much to ask of me just from being fucked and watching them. Don whimpered again. So did I. Still teasing Don’s nipples with my nails, it was all I could do to stay in control myself, because I’d never heard Isaac speak like that before, and it was arousing beyond belief.

“Tell me, Don,” Isaac whispered, pausing to nip Don’s earlobe. “Say it.”

With what must have required an unbelievable amount of concentration, Don said, “I fucking love it.” He licked his lips. “You both feel…amazing…”

Isaac’s eyes flicked toward me. “You like that, Carmen?”

I nodded. “Ooh, yeah. I can’t even tell you guys how hot you look.”

Don bit his lip. His arms and shoulders quivered as he fucked me, and this time Isaac was the one to close his eyes and exhale. He thrust harder into Don, in turn forcing Don harder into me.

I arched my back and rolled my hips, trying to get him even deeper inside me. He hit my G-spot just right, and the sight of him and Isaac drove me wild, and if he would’ve just shifted a little to hit my clit, I’d have been in the stratosphere.

Fortunately, though, my hands were free, so I slid one down to my pussy, and when my fingers met my clit, Don and I both gasped.

“
Fuck
.” He released a breath and let his head fall forward. “Fuck, baby, you are so damned
tight
when you do that.”

I circled faster with my fingers, but I couldn’t focus enough to keep teasing his nipple and my clit, so I rested my other hand on his arm. His skin was hot against my palm, and his muscles quivered and rippled within my grasp, adding another dimension to just how fucking sexy and erotic and goddamned amazing this was.

White light crept into my vision. “Don’t stop,” I said. “Either of you. Please, don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop.” Don groaned. “Fuck, I
can’t
stop…”

Someone—I had no idea which one—picked up speed, and my back arched off the bed as Don’s cock hit my G-spot just right. I was sure his cock was getting thicker, stretching my pussy with every deep, hard thrust, but was vaguely aware I was tightening around him, squeezing him as my orgasm closed in on me. Electricity crackled along my nerve endings. My head spun. I dug my fingers into his arm, circling my clit faster with my other hand, and for the second time tonight, the world exploded around me.

Don’s throaty roar made it past my pounding heart, and I blinked the tears out of my eyes as he slammed into me one last time before shuddering. Isaac kept fucking him until Don’s orgasm subsided, and then he surrendered as well, coming with a long, helpless moan.

All three of us were still. Everyone shook, everyone panted, but no one moved. Isaac kissed the side of Don’s neck, and goose bumps rose on my skin as if he’d kissed my neck instead.

Still panting, Don turned his head enough to look behind him. “Isaac, you have
got
to try this.”

Isaac kissed Don’s shoulder. “Oh, I fully intend to.” His eyes met mine. “Assuming you enjoy it, of course?”

“Enjoy it?” I grinned, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. “Watching you two fuck while I’m being fucked? What’s not to love?”

“Oh,” Don said, leaning down and letting his lips brush mine. “You are such a dirty woman, you know that?”

“I hope you’re not saying that like it’s a bad thing,” I murmured.

“Not at
all
,” he said, and kissed me.

I ran my fingers through his sweaty hair. “I do hope you two know you have unfairly raised the bar for anyone I date from here on out.”

Don shrugged, his breath catching as Isaac pulled out. As Don withdrew from me, he looked down at me again. “Just means we get to keep playing with you until you meet the right guy.”

I just laughed. Earlier, my upbringing had tried to throw a bucket of icy guilt over me for indulging in sex with Isaac and Don. Now? The guilt wasn’t happening. The guys were down with this kind of wild, sweaty sex until Prince Charming found the time to come strolling into my life?

They had themselves a deal.

Chapter Thirteen

Donovan

Isaac and I both kissed Carmen goodnight, and he showed her to the door while I went in to get a shower. After he’d taken a shower too, we climbed into bed together, but we didn’t turn off the light right away.

He rested his head on my shoulder. “You know, I could really get used to these threesomes.”

I chuckled, running my fingers through his damp hair. “And here I thought Carmen and I would have to twist your arm.”

“Yeah, right.” He put his hand over mine on my chest. “Though I can barely keep up with you sometimes. Between the two of you? I’ll be lucky if you don’t kill me.”

“Getting too old for this?”

“Fuck you.” He nudged me playfully with his knee.

I snickered. “Hey, I just don’t want you breaking your hip or something.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m forty, not eighty.”

“Yeah, and trying to keep up with two spry, young thirty-somethings—”

He laughed. “Oh, please. Maybe if you two were in your twenties or something.”

“Dirty old man.”

“Well, I won’t argue with the first part.”

“What?” I asked. “The ‘dirty old’ part?”

“Just you wait, Donovan,” he said. “When you turn forty? I’m going to make sure to give you all kinds of hell.”

“At which point I’ll say, ‘Hey, Isaac, don’t look now. I think fifty’s creeping up on you.’”

“Oh God.” He rolled onto his back and rubbed his forehead. “Let me get over forty before I start thinking about fifty.”

We both laughed. After a moment, Isaac said, “I have to say, I’m seriously surprised we didn’t get kicked out of that place tonight.”

“I was kind of hoping we would. I mean, how many people can say they’ve been thrown out of a baby store?”

“That’s a story to tell the grandkids, isn’t it?”

“Grandkids?” I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Dude, don’t
even
go there yet.”

He laughed. “Oh, come on now, you know you’d love having grandkids around.”

“Isaac, I’m thirty-four years old. I don’t even want to think about that until my kid is at least in his twenties.”

“Need I point out that’s only a few years away?”

I groaned. “Oh, God. Don’t remind me.”

He played with my hair, then furrowed his brow. “Hey, look at that.”

“What?”

“I think you just got half a dozen gray hairs all at once.”

I laughed and batted his hand away. “Ass.”

Isaac chuckled.

I absently ran my fingers through his hair but didn’t speak.

Grandkids. I barely resisted the urge to shudder. Someday, yeah, but it was hard to believe there was a very real possibility of that “someday” happening within the next ten years. God, that was all too much. It was bad enough trying to swallow the fact that I’d be attending my kid’s high school graduation in two years. College graduations? Weddings? Grandkids? And I thought letting him out on the road was terrifying.

“You okay?” Isaac asked after a while.

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Just thinking.”

“Anything in particular?”

“No, Dr. Freud, it’s nothing.”

He laughed. “You know, I think I’m going to have nightmares about the stuff in that store.”

“Just wait until half that shit is all over our house. You’ll be so sleep-deprived, you won’t be able to tell when you’re dreaming about it or when it’s real.”

“Great,” he muttered.

I laughed and kissed his forehead.

“We should get some sleep,” he said. “While we still can, right?”

“Yeah, we should.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow and kissed me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Isaac killed the light, then rested his head on my shoulder again. In no time flat, he was out cold. I, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep.

Going through that store had made this a little more real. Sure, I’d bantered with Isaac and Carmen. I’d done what I could to settle their fears and ease their worries, but I hadn’t put a dent in my own. Seeing all those things we wouldn’t need and all the things we would had brought back every the fatigue-blurred memory of Ryan’s infancy.
 

Stores like that really did bug the hell out of me. Companies spent all that energy scaring parents with bullshit boogeymen, but no one said a damned word about the real thing. No one ever tells a parent that after all the material security is bought and in place, when recommendations are followed to the letter and every safety gadget is installed, even the youngest and most inexperienced parent still wonders.

I could have wrapped Ryan in bubble wrap and put him to bed with a crash helmet on, and I’d still have watched him sleep. It seemed silly now, but over the years, I’d gathered I wasn’t the only parent who’d watched his kid sleep out of the irrational but undeniable certainty that the baby only kept breathing because I constantly willed him to do so. I’d always chalked it up to inexperience. I was a terrified kid. But now, at thirty-four and with close to seventeen years of parenting under my belt, not to mention being financially secure and in a solid relationship, I was just as nervous as I was the day Julia told me she was pregnant. This was a second chance to get it right from the start, but it was also a second chance to royally fuck it up again.

Carmen and Isaac saw me as cool and confident. They saw me approaching this new era without batting an eye because I’d done it once before. The truth was, I’d been there once before, and that was exactly why I was nervous as hell this time around. They heard, “Oh, piece of cake, I’ve done this before.” What they didn’t hear was, “Oh, shit, now I have to start from scratch, and I
still
don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

My mind wandered back to the first time I ever held Ryan. That moment was seared into my memory and would be until the day I died. I swore I could still feel the weight of the world condensed into seven pounds, ten ounces and swaddled in a blanket, nestled in the crook of my arm. More than being in the delivery room, or seeing him for the first time, or watching Julia hold him,
that
was the moment it all became real. That was when the abstract “you’re going to be a parent” became the concrete “this person is now
your
responsibility”.

As Ryan got older, that nauseating worry and fear had eased, but it never went away completely. Rational or not, even in those moments when I wanted to choke him myself, I still worried about Ryan when he was out of my sight. Not that he’d randomly stop breathing, but that he’d fall victim to the kind of freak accident that existed only in an overprotective parent’s head. I’d have liked to have thought they were all in my head, anyway, but my job made sure I was kept abreast of every possible catastrophe that could take my child from me at any moment.

I shuddered, and Isaac stirred a little. I held still, certain I’d woken him, but he didn’t move again.

I had no idea if other parents were as paranoid as I was. It was probably a combination of my job, the lingering fear of a teenaged father and my deep-seated need to not screw this up. My father had instilled in me a fear of failure. Fatherhood had cemented that fear with the absolute certainty I would fail at
this
.