A Family Woman Read online

  I slowly opened my eyes, wanting to savor this moment. In the pale moonlight, Sarah’s dark hair contrasted with her creamy skin. Her heavy breasts heaved with each intake of breath. Her swirling chocolate eyes smoldered.

  “I may.”

  “I want you to. I want you to let go completely.”

  My hips rubbed against hers. She wanted to be in control, but I couldn’t stop this part of my body; it had a mind of its own. Sarah didn’t admonish me; instead she rode me.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” She flung her head back. “This is what I wanted tonight.”

  “To ride me?” I jacked up both eyebrows.

  “Exactly. Are you ready for your gift?” She ran a finger the length of my upper body.

  “Does it involve you?”

  “Absolutely.” She leaned over the side of the bed, rustled in a plastic bag, and pulled out a strap-on—the attachment already, um, attached.

  I laughed, slightly fearful. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Sarah slapped my stomach. “Not a joke. Not at all. You and I have never used one.”

  “Have you with someone else?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I hesitated. Was it a piece of information I wanted permanently etched into my memory bank?

  The commanding pleading in her eyes was more powerful than the pulsing between my legs.

  “Not at all.” I eyed the device. “You or me?”

  “I want you to wear it first.”

  I shivered. The black-corset harness didn’t intimidate me; the enormous cock did. Would it ease into my pregnant wife without slamming into the twins? Granted, the babies were still minuscule at the moment, but this was not the average-sized penis, at least I didn’t think so. My experience in that department was nil.

  Sarah bent over the side of the bed again, keeping me in suspense with a mischievous glance out of the corner of her eye. She soon vaulted back up with a tube of lubricant. “Go on. Slip it on.”

  I sat up, dangling the device by a strap between my thumb and forefinger, giving it a once-over.

  “Surely even you can figure it out,” Sarah teased.

  “Hmmm… I wouldn’t give me too much credit. Did you assemble it before waking me?”

  Sarah plucked it out of my hands. “Trust me. I don’t give you that much credit, and to answer your question, it came assembled.” She gestured for me to lie down and to scoot my ass up so she could hoist the harness over my lower body. Its softness took me by surprise.

  “Tell me the truth. Have you had something so—large and uh… purple inside you?”

  “Would you have preferred a rainbow one?”

  I shook my head.

  She laughed at my stern head shaking. “Didn’t think so.” Her eyes softened. “I want us to keep experiencing new things, even now.”

  “What do you mean? Even now?” I gawked at the thick cock poking upward from my crotch.

  “Now that we’re on the cusp of becoming parents. You and I still matter.” She placed one hand on her chest and the other on mine. “I always want a place in our lives that includes only us, where we do things that only we know about. It’s important to me. Vital for our relationship.”

  It wasn’t the first time she had expressed this wish. As soon as we’d found out Sarah was pregnant, she’d kicked our relationship into the center of everything. Her parents never divorced, but her father had died when Sarah was a child. Growing up with only one parent made Sarah determined that our family would always have two parents at the heads of the table—parents who never divorced and whose love deepened each year. Distance, even physical, was not an option.

  Understanding how much it meant to her, coupled with my own desire to stay in touch on all levels, ignited the switch in my head. If she wanted us to stay close, by all means, I’d never fight her on it. If that meant fucking her with a strap-on, well, I was game, even if I wasn’t all that confident about my thrusting skills with the appendage.

  “How do you want to do this?” I tentatively gripped the dildo with my right hand.

  She tittered. “You’ve seen movies right? Or do I need to start buying straight porn?”

  “Have you been buying lesbian porn and not sharing?” I slanted my head.

  “That’s an idea.” She clapped her hands. “Porn!”

  “Can’t wait to see all the adverts when I log onto the computer after your first porn purchase.”

  “People don’t buy porn anymore. It’s all over the Internet.” Sarah squeezed some lube into her hand and smeared it over the purple penis. Was the color significant? At least it wasn’t banana yellow. That would ruin the mood for sure.

  I jabbed my hand out for her to add lube and helped lather the entire eight inches. Surprisingly, it was kinda hot. “Top or bottom?”

  “I want to be on top. Like I said, I want to ride you.”

  “Giddyup.” My upward hip thrust motioned that I was ready.

  Sarah’s pussy hovered over the dildo, her eyes wide. I remained still, waiting for her to make the final decision. It was all fun and games until someone got stabbed with an eight-inch cock. Again, I had to wonder how realistic the size was. What would pop up in my browser if I googled “average penis size”?

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “N-nothing at all. Just waiting for you to make your move.”

  Sarah flashed her here goes nothing grin. The tip entered her, and her eyes widened further.

  “Changing your mind?” I winked at her, slightly moving my hips.

  “Not a chance. Taking it slow. Enjoying the experience.”

  “I’ve got all night.” I eyeballed the dildo as it was slowly swallowed by Sarah’s pussy. “And we don’t need any Viagra.”

  “Only you would turn this into a competition.” She adjusted and began the ride. “Come on, cowgirl. Show me what you got.”

  I drove my hips upward.

  Sarah welcomed the thrust with an excited, “Oi!”

  Her response was the impetus I needed. I wanted to make Sarah come on top of me. Typically, my view while eating her pussy was obscured when she climaxed, but with her on top, riding me, I had the best seat in the house. I picked up the pace, and Sarah flopped about like a rider on a bucking bronco. Hopefully, that didn’t imply I was inept with a strap-on.

  Her back arched, and her head lolled back, thrusting her tits, which were getting fuller every day, toward the ceiling. Her hand traveled up and down her body, clearly in ecstasy. I was fairly certain my eyes were boggling over the image playing in real time. Every movement inside her was reciprocated with an excited quake in her breath and body. She bounced up and down on me, while I concentrated, blotting out the fancy hotel room, the ornate wallpaper, the crystal chandelier, and the countryside paintings that conjured up images of the queen having tea in Buckingham Palace. The sophisticated suite was probably used by straight couples assuming the missionary position—if they fucked at all—not a lesbian getting her jollies with a purple plastic accessory.

  My goal was to get her to climax, but the pressure from the harness rubbed my clit in such a way that I was on the precipice of an orgasm myself. Maybe she sensed that, because we both dug deep to pick up the pace. We’d moved from making love, smack dab into full-on fuck mode.

  Sarah’s body gyrated frantically as she murmured through ragged breathing, “Jesus fucking Christ, don’t stop.”

  There was no way in hell I would stop until I’d drained every last ounce of energy. My eyes were gummed shut now, preparing for an earth-shattering climax, but I needed to hold on. My orgasm would hit me hard, I knew, but I couldn’t succumb until Sarah got there first.

  “Oooooo.” She urged me on.

  My muscles were fatigued with exertion and anticipation. Sweat glistened on both of our bodies. The slapping sounds of our bodies colliding into each other intensified and alerted me to the fact that it was now or never. If I was exhausted, Sa
rah was nearing the point of no return, considering she was doing most of the work. Her hips slowed, and I opened my eyes, not wanting to miss out. Her face had squished up into her pre-orgasm state. She needed my help to get there.

  I thrust my hips up as far as I could, emitting a primal rumble from deep inside—a sound that had never slipped out before during lovemaking or ever.

  “Oh God, yes!” Sarah’s legs began quivering. I only had to hang on for a few more seconds before I could give in to my own sexual bliss. Her eyes snapped open, staring into mine. She’d never looked sexier, bringing both of us there… and beyond.

  ***

  Moments later, Sarah curled up in my arms, resting her head on my chest. “Sometimes you surprise the shit out of me.”

  I laughed, not taken aback by her honesty. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t be mad, but when I purchased my new favorite sex toy, I was pretty sure you’d scoff at the idea. I thought it would take some serious begging to get you to even consider it.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Damn. If I’d only known.”

  “What? Didn’t you like it?” Her head popped up, and she gave me the evil eye.

  “I think it’s safe to say I loved it. But if I’d known the level of begging you were willing to stoop to, I would have forestalled the fuck fest.” I caressed her delicate cheekbone. “You do have a certain way when pleading in bed.”

  Sarah thumped my shoulder, not pissed at all.

  “Can we go back? Start over?”

  “What? My historian wants to rewrite history?” Her eyes agreed with the idea.

  “Absolutely. I’m a strong proponent of getting things right, no matter how many times we have to try. That’s the teacher in me.”

  Sarah yawned. “I’m in but not tonight.”

  “Tease.” I wrestled her back into my arms. “Are you comfortable, sweetheart? I can’t have the mother of my children suffer in any way.”

  “I like that.”

  “What?” I nuzzled my cheek against the top of her head.

  “That you can see me as a mother and as a woman. Once they become moms, women are sometimes put solely in the ‘mother’ box. I don’t want that, especially from you.”

  “Ah, you still want nights like this? I don’t think that will be a problem, my little sex pot.”

  She burrowed closer, murmuring into my ear just before she drifted off to la-la land, “Just you wait for tomorrow’s adventure.”

  Chapter Three

  “That’s the best building on campus.” I pointed toward a brick building with a recent addition made of glass. “I’ve spent many happy hours there, still do whenever I get the chance.”

  Ethan and Janice, friends and colleagues during my grad school days, burst into laughter.

  “That explains so much.” Ethan’s wiry upper body shuddered with hilarity, and he put a hand on Janice’s shoulder for support. Their merriment morphed into an odd, conspiratorial joy.

  “What building is it?” Bailey, Janice’s bespectacled younger cousin, asked, eyes wide.

  “The library.” Janice continued to laugh.

  Bailey’s eyes narrowed behind her rectangular tortoiseshell glasses. “Really?” She studied my face. “Are you yanking my leg?”

  “Not a chance. She’s being completely real with you.” Ethan attempted to rein in his laughing fit.

  Sarah looped her hand through my arm and gave my bicep a supportive squeeze, her smile proving she was laughing at my expense on the inside. She whispered in my ear, “Not many high school students give a rat’s ass about libraries.”

  Dottie, who was Bailey and Janice’s grandmother, smiled. “If Bailey comes here, I’m putting Lizzie in charge of monitoring her study habits.”

  What type of spreadsheet I’d set up flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t curtail a smile.

  It was a Saturday morning during spring break, so not many undergrads were on campus, if any, although a decent amount of grad students and a handful of professors buzzed to and fro. Even though it was the second week in March, thick clouds clung to the foothills, threatening snow. Stark tree branches against a gunmetal sky conjured an eerie feeling, more fitting for autumn than spring.

  Janice was visiting her alma mater with her grandmother and cousin, who was making a whirlwind tour of five colleges in three states in under nine days. She’d invited Ethan and me to tag along this morning to show Bailey the highlights. Sarah, a CU alum, joined us after I’d made her promise not to undermine our objective: wooing Bailey to become a CSU Ram, not a CU buff—at least not while on CSU’s campus.

  “How in the world did you ever find a woman?” Janice teased.

  “She didn’t. I found Lizzie in the history department chair’s office.” Sarah spoke to Janice’s back as we brought up the rear of the group.

  Janice gaped over her shoulder and said, “Wow! It must have been a dream come true—true love in the history department.”

  “She found me in the library.” Ethan tapped his chest with one finger; his other hand gripped his daughter’s. “Lizzie and I worked there together for a couple of years.”

  Janice rubbernecked over her shoulder again and winked. “Life has worked out for the biggest nerd I know.”

  I scowled, which didn’t intimidate the plucky San Franciscan, of course. “Somehow, I’ve managed to muddle through life one nerdy day at a time.”

  Dottie rubbed her hands together. “I hate the cold.”

  “Then why do we live in San Francisco instead of LA?” Bailey sniped, rolling her eyes.

  “Because culture matters, not nightclubs.” A formidable woman in stature and tone, Dottie’s lined forehead made one thing clear: she didn’t like having her authority challenged. Only the softness in her eyes lessened the fear factor. After Bailey’s mom died in a mountain-climbing accident, Dottie swooped in to raise her three-year-old granddaughter. Bailey’s father had never been in the picture.

  “I know a good place for coffee,” I said.

  “As long as it’s not the library.” Bailey rounded on me, her withering look smashing my hopes of her completing a daily spreadsheet.

  If she moved here, it was clear I’d have to come up with an ingenious plan that would enable me to track her studies without her knowing. I loved a good challenge.

  Dottie had agreed to visit colleges in California, Colorado, and Oregon, but she had her heart set on Bailey attending Stanford, much closer to home. Oregon was next on her list. Bailey, however, had narrowed it down to three schools that were at least a day’s drive away: UCLA, CU, and CSU. Janice had confided to me that the odds of her getting into UCLA or Stanford were slim at best. It’d be safe to say the library probably wouldn’t be Bailey’s favorite place on campus. She’d likely never set foot inside, a shameful thought.

  Later today, our group was heading to CU—sans Ethan, who had to take his daughter, Casey, to hip-hop dance lessons. I had a hard time envisioning a group of kindergarteners dancing, let alone to hip-hop. Then again, the last time I danced was on my wedding day, and that didn’t go well. Sarah loved to email the clip of me tripping over my gown as she attempted to twirl me around without telegraphing the move first. If Ethan hadn’t been standing next to the three-tiered cake, I’d have crashed right into it, ruining Sarah’s chance of smearing my face, even after she swore up and down she wouldn’t.

  Inside the student center, Janice and I shepherded the group to some tables near a glass wall.

  “All right, what can I get everyone?” I clapped my hands together in a waitress-like way.

  “What’s available?” Bailey stared at me as if my answer determined whether she’d accept CSU. She had a smidge of California snobbery about her.

  I stripped my jacket off. “Uh, it’s Saturday during spring break, so not much. However, if you want a coffee and something sweet, I think that can be arranged.”

  “Coffee. Black.” Dottie tightened her scarf. How
was the woman still freezing, even inside?

  I fumbled in my bag in search of a small notebook and fished a pen out of my shirt pocket.

  “I see she hasn’t changed much since I moved home years ago.” Janice grinned. “Vanilla latte and a cinnamon roll for me.”

  “Ditto for me.” Sarah took a seat next to Casey and Ethan.

  “Espresso.” Bailey strained to see over my shoulder, out the window. “And a cinnamon roll,” she muttered casually as if she really didn’t want it—or the calories. She had the type of build that packed on weight easily; she’d probably never be thin.

  “Can you watch Casey for me?” Ethan asked Sarah as he stood. “Even with the notepad, Lizzie will find a way to bollix everything if left to her own devices.”

  “Says the man wearing one navy New Balance and one black Nike shoe.” I aimed my pen at his mismatched shoes.

  Ethan smiled sheepishly. “Casey helped me get ready this morning.”

  “You’re putting the blame on your daughter? That’s low. I’m used to you giving me sh—” I sized up Casey, to see whether she’d caught that I almost said shit, but she was too busy doodling on a napkin with pens Janice had magically produced from her purse. “—trouble, but tossing your child under the bus to save face…” I tsked.

  Ethan put a hand on my shoulder, leading me away. “Come August, you’ll understand. I only have one child. You have twins on the way. I won’t be surprised if you leave the house without a shirt on. I’ve always wondered about your lingerie choice: sexy or grandma to match your penchant for sweater vests?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. I have action plans in place for when the twins arrive.” I held my left wrist aloft. “This watch has ten alarms, and I already use seven of them. You aren’t scaring me. Organization is my thing.”

  “Good Lord, why in the hell would anyone need seven alarms?”

  “I can show you.” I tapped my watch.

  Ethan smothered my hand. “You know, for the sake of our friendship, I’d rather not know your BM schedule.”

  “I don’t poop on command.”

  “If you say so. But here’s a tip: people might think someone who’s so uptight they need seven alarms shits on a schedule.” Ethan approached the registers, snatched the notepad from my hand, and placed the orders in a strong baritone voice. He added at the last moment, “Oh, can you add a couple of blueberry muffins? I haven’t had one since I finished my master’s.” His giddiness was matched by the change in his tone, nearly squealing like a child.