All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You ... #3) (25 page)

“Let’s get you wet,” he said and he walked me backwards to the bed. Perching my booty on the edge of the bed, he gently spread my knees and then kneeled between my legs. Next, slowing the frenzied tempo, he bent forward and let the tip of his tongue softly dance on my pussy, teasing it, teasing me. Darting around, his tongue made my whole body quiver. Ooh baby.  Then he flattened his tongue, licking the whole length of me, which felt like I was on fire from my toes to my waist. So hot. And then he did it again. After a while I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Come up,” I moaned, “I want you inside me. Now, please, guapo. I want your cock in me.”

Giving me a half grin, he stood up, put his hands under my ass, and moved me up the bed.  He covered me with his body, embracing me, resting his torso between my legs.

“Now,” I ordered. “
Now
. Move up. I need you inside me. Fill me up, Jake.”

At my words, my frank begging, he positioned his hard cock at my entrance and slowly, carefully, slid in, and stayed there, enjoying the connection. Now this was what I wanted.

“Oh that feels so good,” I groaned. “God, I love you inside me.”

I didn’t realize that I’d dropped the L-word until he looked at me quizzically. “Me too,” he said and I wondered what he was referring to. And then finally he started to move, kissing me, kissing my cheek, my shoulder, the top of my hair, running his hand down my curves.

But then suddenly, he grabbed my ass and flipped us over, keeping the connection, so that I was on top, astride him. My hair reached down past my shoulders, and some of it covered my breasts. He swept that hair aside, brushing it behind my back, and lifted his hands up to rub my nipples, cupping my breasts. 

“Ride me,” he said. “I want to see you.”

I began to move up and down on his cock, thumping him soundly, so wet, enjoying the way we were connected, enjoying the sensations of him inside me and under me, and I started to build my own orgasm. He reached out and stroked my clit insistently, letting me come.  I did.  Hard.

Once I came down, he gave me the little twirling motion again, with his finger. I looked at him, questioning. “Turn around, I want to see your ass,” he urged. “Keep the connection.”

Very carefully, I leaned and moved around, so that I was now facing away from him, and he reached up and fit his hands along my booty, massaging my cheeks, and spreading them.

“Oh yeah, baby,” he groaned. “Win.”

Moving up and down, I gave him a view of my booty. Suddenly he knifed up, wrapped his arms around my middle, and flipped us over again. This time, I was on all fours. I loved it this way.

Reaching down between my legs, he again massaged my clit until I climaxed.  A few more thrusts and he pushed into me, letting go with a groan.

We collapsed on the bed, in each other’s arms, sated and spent.

He nipped at my shoulders, oddly energetic.  I still hadn’t recovered totally from my pneumonia and felt tired.  Maybe I needed a follow up visit.

“Was that how you’d write it, Lucy?”

“It was better.”

He laughed and hugged me.  “What do you want to do now?”

“Go swimming, of course.”

That night, we went to an old-school steak house, and I ate the best steak ever. After dinner, we drove up along the foothills with the windows rolled down, enjoying the warm air and parked, looking out at the lights in the desert.

Saturday morning, I awoke to Jake gently pressing his finger up and down my arm. He always looked so glorious first thing in the morning, his black hair tousled, and his eyes piercing. Oh, and shirtless.  That was a good look, too.

“Sorry to wake you,” he whispered.

“S’okay,” I answered, worn out from yesterday’s sex and swimming. “I needed to get up. We have a lot to do today.”

“Lucy, I don’t care if we never leave this hotel room. I don’t want to do anything but be with you.”

And for some reason, his words made me emotional. I wasn’t usually that hormonal, but they made me feel like crying. God, I’m not a crier but lately?  I’d cried more than I had since Carlos originally left me.  I didn’t know what was happening. It must be that time of the month. “I don’t ever want to leave you,” I blurted. Then I admitted in a whisper, a secret thought that I had felt, but not vocalized, ever since the day I saw the construction on his new home. “I’m scared of what is going to happen once you move away from me back to your home. Are you going to go back to being a workaholic? When will I see you?”

Very seriously, he looked at me, then leaned over and kissed my nose. “Lucy, I love you.”  Chills erupted over my skin.  “We’ll figure it out.”

As if it were that simple.

“You love me?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “I do. I fell in love with you when you brought me the tamales. Maybe before.  When I brought you the panties.  So strong.  So beautiful, naturally.  So wise.”

“You don’t mind that I have a son?”

“Of course not,” he said. “You’re a powerhouse, and you’ve handled everything on your own. I’m making room in my life so that I can help you. I want to be with you. I don’t care where we live. That can be figured out.”

“I love you too,” I said, and a tear slipped down my nose. “I fell in love with you when I realized that you were protecting me and with the way you took care of Rob.”

He smiled, his foxy toothpaste smile and wrapped his strong arms around me.

“Love making or breakfast?”

“Both, I think.”

Later that day, we shopped in the antique and vintage stores, visited the art museum, loving the sketch books on display, which showed the thought processes the artists went through to create, went swimming in the vintage pool, and cleaned off together in the shower, which led to a few more orgasms. We went to sushi for dinner and, warm and sated, fell asleep comfortably.

The next morning, my head was in the toilet.

He came to the door of the bathroom and knocked quietly. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” I called, not feeling it. I’d been feeling bad since Christmas. “I will be.” And I slumped up against the wall. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head of what was wrong with me.  What it could be.

But all I wanted to be was home.

Four days later, it poured rain in Santa Barbara.  With our drought, we needed it.  I walked into my doctor’s office, checked in with the receptionist, and sat down on the one open seat. The waiting room was packed with people, and four of the women surrounding me had huge bellies.

Oh shit. I knew it wasn’t contagious. But still, I felt unbearably uncomfortable being here.

The office attempted to have a personality with funky patterns on the chairs and piles of magazines. Regardless, it was an institutional doctor’s office. I mainly focused on trying to avoid panicking.

Every morning since Sunday in Palm Springs I got sick. My boobs hurt. I was achy.  And so, so tired.

No fucking way.

This couldn’t be happening again. Right?
Right
?

The door opened to the waiting room and a nurse with a clipboard and purple scrubs called, “Lucy?” Gathering my purse, I stood up. Going to this appointment on my own was my idea.  I’d made the appointment for a time when Jake was at work and Rob was in school, not wanting to tell anyone in case I was wrong. Now that I was actually here, however, I knew that I’d made the wrong decision. Some support would have been welcome. I always was surrounded by friends and family.  And Jake.  Bad idea to not have them because I knew deep down what I was going to find out today. I was sure that my suspicions would be confirmed. A woman knows. I just didn’t understand why it had happened.

The nurse weighed me in the hall and then walked me into an exam room. I perched on the paper-covered examination table, the crinkle sound registering loudly in the quiet room.

I breathed in and out.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” she asked.

I told her. “I’m three days late,” I whispered. “I’m on the pill. It’s always on time, exactly.”

“Let’s have you take a urine test.”  She opened a drawer, pulled out a cup, and handed it to me. I hopped off the table, and walked the plank down the hall to the bathroom.

It felt like a doomed trip, like I was headed for my sentencing date at my trial. What was the punishment going to be? Another eighteen years?

The hall closed in on me as I walked to the bathroom.

I peed in the cup.

I went back to the room.

The doctor came in.

Yep. Pregnant.

I was in a daze. I managed to ask, “How did this happen?  I mean I know how, but I was on the pill.”

“When you were prescribed doxycycline for the community acquired pneumonia, it lowered the effectiveness of your oral contraception for about five days.”

I just stared at her.

She repeated in English, “The antibiotics made the pill not work. So, obviously, since you’re pregnant, stop taking your pill, and start taking a good prenatal vitamin.” She went on, giving me instructions and handing me pamphlets. Somehow I got out of there, with a follow up appointment scheduled. I left the building and, having forgotten an umbrella, managed to have the perfect luck to step outside when there was a torrential downpour.  Then I stepped in a puddle.

Soaked, I got in my car and buckled myself in.

I was pregnant with Jake’s baby.

And all I could think was that I did it again. Total recidivist. You would think that I’d learned from my past. But I was pissed because I
had
learned from Carlos. I’d learned so fucking much.  I’m not stupid.  I was careful.  Since Rob, I’d been on the pill
and I hadn’t even had sex for twelve years
.  That’s how careful I was. This was not fair.

But now I was yet again going to be a mother.

I started crying, my body chilled, sitting in my driver’s seat, rain pouring down, not going anywhere. Raging hormones stirred up the memories of the abandonment I felt when Carlos had broken up with me and then refused to have anything to do with me after he’d found out I was pregnant. I’d made a promise to myself that I would never get into the same circumstance that I was in with Carlos, but here I was, a second time over pregnant, unwed woman.

Fuck
.

I was collapsing on the inside, my brain resurrecting every negative thing that I had ever heard said, not just to me, but in general, about pregnant, unwed mothers. Years of being strong?  Sassy?  Wise?  Gone.  Now thoughts had found a landing space somewhere in my psyche in the form of shame and I started talking to myself in the most unhealthy way. My baby daddy was going to leave me.  I was going to have to fight for child support again.

Tears streaming down my face mixed with the rain in my hair, but I had to leave the parking lot.  I needed to clean up my face so that I didn’t freak out Rob when he got home from school. Thinking of a way to tell Jake was going to take some time, and I had no idea when to do it.

I made it home somehow, but when I got there I couldn’t have told you how I did it, I was so lost in my thoughts.  Toxic thoughts.

I opened my front door and an overwhelming smell of good food invaded my nostrils. What on Earth?

“Lucy?” called Jake. “I wanted to surprise you with making you lunch. I thought you would be here, but when you weren’t, I started cooking.”

Wiping my eyes, I set myself in the doorway, dripping, unsure of what to do. He rounded the corner from the kitchen, took one look at my face, and his smile disappeared. “Honey, what is it?”

I stood there, mute, unable to tell him. Tears streamed down my face again, and I held onto the doorknob for support. I dropped my purse and just looked at him.

He closed the gap between us and folded me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. He held me for a long time, not saying anything, just holding me. I could hear his heartbeat, my ear pressed into his chest, and it soothed me. His strong arms around me also soothed me. And his head cradling the top of my head, with his lips kissing my hair—that was the best part.  I was sure I was getting his clothes wet but he didn’t move, he just held me.