Shattered & Mended (17 page)

Don’t I know it? “No, it’s perfect. I’m crying because I’m happy. See?” I point to my mouth and plaster on a pathetic excuse for a smile. 

My guilty conscience is overshadowing my happiness. I force the guilt to the back of my mind and live in the moment. Is it that bad if I don’t tell him? I mean, he fingered me, but he didn’t actually fuck me. It’s minor cheating. But cheating is cheating, nonetheless. I don’t want to ruin what we have. Could I live with myself if I never told him? If I don’t, I’m sure it’ll come back and bite me in the ass sooner or later. Karma’s a skillful bitch, and she’ll make sure I get what I deserve. I. Will. Tell. Him. No matter the consequences, I have to tell him. Trust is crucial in a relationship. In fact, you can’t have a relationship without trust. 

I’m lost in thought when my feet come off the floor. What is it with these men carrying me around all the time? They lift me effortlessly, and if my extra weight makes it more difficult for them to lift me, they hide it well. Blake sets me on the cool tile to the side of the ginormous Jacuzzi tub upstairs. By the looks of it
,
our entire family could fit inside it comfortably. Okay, not our entire family, but it’s big enough for at least four or so adult bodies. He turns on the water and turns to me. He takes the bottom of my shirt and lifts it over my head. Then he reaches behind my back and undoes my bra, releasing my full and aching breasts. He takes a step back and admires what he sees as if I’m a work of art.

He cups my breasts and rolls my nipples between his fingers while his tongue makes love to my neck. He gives my hard-as-rock nipples a pinch, and a needy moan fills the room. His hands slide down my sides and slips into the waistband of my pants. Kissing from my neck, down between my breasts, and then under my round belly, he glides the unwanted pants down my legs. I grab his shoulders and step out of them and tremble when I hear Blake’s hungry growl.

“Just fucking perfect,” he praises, gliding his tongue between my folds and flicking my most sensitive area. I toss my head back and enjoy the blazing fire that spreads throughout my body, gasping as his fingers invade me in the most delicious way. 

“Oh, fuck,” I whimper in pleasure. His licks falter, and he sucks my clit as his fingers torture me beautifully. Fire blazes deep within my core, and suddenly, his fingers aren’t enough. I need him inside of me, stretching me and filling me with his desirably-hard cock. It’s been too long, and I need to feel him; I crave the blissful pain he provides. I tug his hair and pull his face back so I can look him in the eye. “Please, make love to me Blake,” I plead.

“You know I can’t,” he breathes. 

“You can, and you have to. Blake, please … take me.” I know I sound desperate, and dammit, I AM!

“Al, you know it’s not safe. We talked about this already,” he sighs, tasting me as he licks my moisture from his lips.

“Stand up,” I urge. He stands, and I see his erection pressing against his jeans. I reach out to undo his jeans and his cock springs free, standing stiff as a pole, a pole I want so desperately to swirl around. His jeans pool at his feet, and I take his thickness into my hand. I close the gap between us and begin to stoke his shaft. I run my fingertips up and down the bumps on his stomach and kiss every inch of his chest. “You love me, yes?” Kiss. “You want to make me happy?” He nods. “You tell me whatever I want, I get. And you’re a man of your word, aren’t you?” Kiss. I continue to stroke him as I speak. I bring my mouth to his nipple and swirl my tongue around it, causing him to shiver. I glide my tongue across his chest and do the same to the opposite side, but this time, I give a gentle bite. 

I squeeze his shaft tighter, stroke him faster for several minutes, and heated liquid covers my hands. His warmth shoots onto my stomach and fire sparks in his eyes as he watches his cum cover me. When I’m sure he’s finished releasing himself, I take my fingers into my mouth and suck them clean, enjoying the taste of his salty sweetness. 

“You are impossible, woman,” he growls. He lifts me under my arms as if I’m weightless and carries me to the bed, a new four-poster king-size one. “If something happens, and you go into labor because of this, I’ll never forgive myself.” He gently lays me on the bed, and I spread my legs to invite him in. “Please, try not to moan, or I’ll lose control. Fuck, I can’t lose control … I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” he pants.

I reach between my legs and grab his cock, pulling him to me. 

He pulls back before consuming me. “No, not like this.” He gets off the bed and pulls me to the edge of the mattress. “Get on your knees and rest your chest against the pillows. If you feel anything, even the slightest cramp, you tell me. Promise me this, or I’m not doing it,” he threatens.

“Promise,” I blurt out a bit eagerly. Here I am, ass in the air and face in the pillow, with juices dripping down my thighs. I’ll tell him anything he wants to hear.

He brings his tip to me and slowly slides inside. Fucking hell, it’s amazing. The burn as he fills me with his thickness, the stretching … it provides mind-blowing pleasure! I bite my lip and smother my face deep into the pillow in an attempt to muffle my involuntary moans. How can he expect me to contain what I have no control over? He thrusts in and out of me slowly, and I hear him grunt as he struggles to control himself from fucking me the way we both desire. I’m starving for some ass-slapping and pounding, but I can’t tempt him. I know what we’re doing has risks, but so does everything else in life. 

Although my nipples are sensitive, I remove his hands from my hips and place them on my breasts. This causes him to penetrate me deeper as he leans forward to keep hold of them as they bounce. “Fuck,” he hisses, his voice husky and breathless.

With the deeper penetrations and a few nipple pinches, I’m unable to harbor my moans. I moan frequently and loudly. He tries to avoid deep penetration, but I push back and meet him thrust for delicious thrust. He hisses and moans, and then fills me with his rhythmic release, putting me in an orgasm-induced coma.

My body goes limp, and the side of my face finds rest on the pillow. I remain with my ass in the air as the evidence of our sweet release travels down the insides of my thighs. Blake comes up behind me and a satisfied chuckle escapes him. “That good, huh?” he asks, acknowledging how lethargic I appear. I nod weakly. He lifts me from the bed and carries me into the bathroom. He then lowers me into the warm water. The lilac and vanilla aroma fills my senses. He pads across the room and turns on some soft melodies. Boyce Avenue’s “Faithfully” fills the room. I close my eyes and relax against the back of the tub. Blake pushes my back up and slides in behind me, spreading his legs to the side so I can relax into him. 

I’m too weak to talk, but he’s used to my speechless aftershock that immediately takes place after killer orgasms. I listen to the music while his hands worship my body as he washes me clean. Once we’re pruned to the max, he lets me get dressed while he goes down and whips up something to eat. Rummaging through his overnight bag, I find one of his shirts and put it on. No panties, but that’s fine with me. I see a pair of socks and take them, too. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the small portion of my feet that I can actually see, pondering how I’m going to put these on. And I must’ve been considering it longer than I thought, because Blake rushes into the room panicking. “You okay?” he asks, breathing heavily. “You’re not hurting, are you?” He walks over and bends down in front of me. “What’s wrong, baby?” He takes my chin into his hand and pulls me in for a kiss.

“Nothing, really. I’m just figuring out how to get these damned things on,” I tell him, holding the socks up for him to see. 

He lowers his head and laughs hysterically. “What’s so funny?” I don’t see what’s amusing about my big ass not being able to reach my own damn feet. He lifts my feet one by one and slides the socks on. Then he stands and offers me his hands. Even though my inner child wants to cross my arms and pout, I’m starving and can’t make it down these steps by myself. We go downstairs, and Blake’s blown up a huge air mattress in front of the fire and set up our dinner on the corner table in the living room. 

He doesn’t allow me to get my own plate; instead, he makes me climb into the middle of the mattress, as he hand-delivers me a plate of shrimp alfredo, salad, and a breadstick. He walks over to fix his own plate, only to drop it on the floor when he sees my plate’s empty when he turns around. “Damn, baby. I know you hardly ever chew, but did you even taste it?”

Actually, no. “Well … no,” I admit shamelessly. He cleans up his mess as I make myself comfortable in front of the fire. The popping sound from burning wood turns into my lullaby, and I begin to drift off as Blake eats his food. 

The bed gives a little, and I hear the sound of running water and brushing of teeth, which reminds me I should probably brush mine. Nah, one night won’t do any damage. I hear him unzip the bag he brought down with us, but I don’t bother lifting these sand-filled eyes to see what he’s doing. “Babe, you sleeping?” he whispers. His fingers travel delicately down the side of my face, and I look to him sleepily, snapping my eyes open when I see a small velvet box resting on the pillow under my nose. 

He helps me sit up, and I swing my legs off the side of the mattress. He gets down on both knees and takes both of my hands into his. My heart’s galloping like a racehorse. The flames from the fire illuminate his hazel eyes, hypnotizing me as he gazes passionately into my eyes. But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s staring into the eyes of a liar, a cheater, a woman unworthy of his love. My eyes sting as they fill with tears of joy, but mostly shame. 

“Allie… God, baby, I love you so damn much.” He pauses to swallow. “You and our babies are my world, my entire life. Although I’m not around as much as I would like to be, you consume my mind every moment we’re apart. I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but I know it includes you. I promise to love you forever, grow with you, and thank God for you every single day of my life. I promise to continue losing my breath every time I see your beautiful face.” He pulls my hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of them before continuing. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Allie Grace Anderson. Will you do the honor of taking my hand, accepting my heart as forever yours, and marry me, please?” This is where I go breathless and shrink down into the size of an ant. Tears rolls freely down my face, and immediately, I become ill. 

I knock him down as I stand and rush to the nearest bathroom, lifting the toilet seat and expelling everything within me; everything except the one thing I wish I could get rid of: shame and guilt. He’s at my side, holding my hair and rubbing my back. I stand up and press my back against the wall, bawling uncontrollably. “You don’t want to marry me, B,” I get out between heaves.

He takes my face between his hands and forces me to look into his dedicated eyes. “Baby, I can’t think of anything I want more than to make you Mrs. Blake Andrews. I want you, Al, forever,” he confesses.

Oh God, why? I used to be a strong woman. What happened to her? When did I become this feeble mess of a woman? That’s right; the day Wyatt walked into my life and claimed my heart as if he’d owned it his entire life.

“I promise you, you don’t.” I have to take in a few breaths before I’m able to explain to him why I’m no good for him. “I love you, B, you have to believe that,” I plead.

“I believe you,” he breathes, kissing the tip of my nose. I don’t have to tell him what I did, but I can’t build a marriage built on lies. I’m a metaphor for self-destruction. “Wyatt and I, we did something. Something I regret immensely,” I weep.

“Fuck!” he hisses, releasing my face and turning away from me. He paces the floor with his back to me.

“Please, don’t do that,” I cry out.

“Do what?” he snaps.

“Turn your back on me.” His face falls at my heart
-wrenching plea; he knows my biggest fear is abandonment. 

“Recently?” I nod. “That persistent son-of-a-bitch,” he sputters. His face turns bright red, and I realize there are tears falling from his eyes. “How? No, not how. Why? Allie, why?” he asks, bending over to catch his breath. He deserves an answer, but nothing I can say will make up for the way I’ve betrayed him. “Answer me, Allie! For fuck’s sake, say something. You’re carrying my babies, and you sleep with him?” he screams.

“I didn’t sleep with him. I promise.” He punches a hole into the drywall, scaring me because I’ve never seen him so angry. And his livid tone causes me to flinch. “Shit,” he mumbles, turning around to grab my face as he realizes how frightened I am. “I need for you to tell me what you did. I need to know if it’s dismissible or not. Just … please, tell me.”

“I went there because I was lonely, desperate for human interaction. Sophie and I aren’t friends anymore. You’re never home. Mom and Carson work just as much as you, and Wyatt was the only person who had time for me,” I croak.

“Are you kidding me? I’m always there for you, and you know it. You know I’ll drop whatever I’m doing if you need me,” he defends.

“I don’t want a part-time love, Blake! I need you to be there for me when I need you, not only for emergencies. Yes, if there’s something wrong, you’re there. But when you’re home, which isn’t much, you’re sleeping. I miss you,” I wail.

“Tell me what happened,” he demands, changing the subject. 

“I went to talk to him, as a friend. I was emotional, vulnerable, and things between us got carried away. We didn’t have sex, but he did …” I can’t spit it out. How do I tell the man I love, the father of my unborn children, that the man he despises most paralyzed my mind by pleasuring me?