Page 67 of If Only You Hurt

“Grant, I’m gonna come.” I feel his grip tighten on my hips, and I know I’ll see marks of his on me later. Soon, I feel my orgasm take over my body, my hips moving at their own volition. I fall off that cliff, feeling my pussy spasm around him.

The moment I come off my high, I’m moved to lay on my back. Grant positions himself on top of me, bringing one leg over his shoulder, pounding into me, chasing his own climax. I watch his face, his reaction euphoric in nature, and I feel like I could take that leap once more, feeling myself tighten around him yet again.

“Yes, fuck, you squeeze me so tight, Laney.” His hips continue to move erratically, and then I feel him explode, the condom catching his release.

He lays there, both of us trying to catch our breath. I can feel the sweat between our two bodies, and I know a shower is on the agenda right after this.

I use my hands to grab his face and bring our gazes back to one another.

“It just seems to get better.” I smile, loving his post-orgasmic expression.

“I feel for you, Bean. Because I’m probably going to get you pregnant sooner than you expect. That was fucking amazing.” He kisses me slowly and sensually.

I breathe him in and feel my love for not only him but this life, growing into something bigger. I know that there was a time in my life when I thought everything I was supposed to be died at that university. I believed that I would never see the world with beauty and always be ready for the next tough moment.

But Grant stood with me. He held me. He allowed me to build up the strength to live a better life on my own time. And that built trust, not only in my ability to embrace the next adventure but to love beyond the hurt I carried in my heart.

Ten Years Later

Grant

“Cassie, where is Micah? Have you seen him? What about Wesley? Did he sneak in here?” Giggles come from the couch, and it’s hard not to react with laughter of my own.

Before I can move about the room any further, both the boys jump up from behind the sectional couch.

I act scared. “Oh my gosh. Boys, you nearly had me peeing my pants.” I bring my hand to my chest, and the fact that I said pee makes the boys really start laughing.

I hear my girls in the kitchen, making cookies for the Christmas dinner we are gearing up to host.

Walking into the kitchen, I grab a cookie that’s on the edge of the cooling rack.

“Grant, do not keep eating the cookies. We won’t have enough to serve for anyone else!” Laney scolds. I chuckle while inhaling yet another cookie. I can see her frustration wane once my dimples pop out. I know how to use my charm on my wife.

“Daddy, leave the cookies alone. We have to have enough for the guests and for Santa!” My daughter is my twin in looks, but she’s all Laney when it comes to her mannerisms and behavior.

The fact I get to see pieces of the woman I love in all three of our kids is something I don’t take for granted. I know how lucky I am, especially with the past that Laney has dealt with.

The last ten years have been something I would say is out of one of Laney’s romance novels. Of course, we have tough times that lean into the good, but overall, we’ve been a great team. I think our love mixes well with the respect we have for one another. We may not see things from the same viewpoint, but we know that our communication needs to be first and foremost. Repeating what Laney says to our kids, “Lead with love.” I used to laugh at that phrase when she said it a few years back, but I realize that it holds true when we are at a fork in the road, and we need to make a unified decision.

The boys come barreling in, already excited for the festivities and the fact that Santa is coming.

“Boys, careful. The oven will be opening and closing while your sister and I bake. Do you want to help in here?”

A unified “NO” is yelled between the two of them, so they run off, hopeful that they won’t be pulled back to clean something up.

The boys are seven and five, and they’re each other’s best friend. Cassie has taken on the role of second mother to the two of them, as she seems to always be putting them in order when Laney isn’t around. It makes my life easier because making Cassie mad seems to scare her brothers. She’s usually pretty even-keel, so if she’s upset, something is gravely wrong.

“Can I go get ready, too, Mom?” Cassie looks up at her mother, and Laney nods. We haven’t hit the teenage years yet, but I hope despite the evident hormones that will be taking over my daughter’s behavior in the years to come, she never loses the respect she seems to hold on a pedestal for Laney. Once Cassie leaves, it’s hard to ignore the quiet throughout this small part of our home.

“Can I help with anything around here? I got the table all set, and the kids’ table is ready to go as well,” I ask Laney, knowing the prep work for nights like these can be more stressful than fun.

“I don’t think so. Will you make sure the boys are ready with their matching pajamas? I know they wanted to wear them tonight, and why put them in fancy clothes if they’re just going to want to change right when I put my feet up?

I move through our kitchen and reach for Laney. I pull her into my arms, her back resting against my chest, and I breathe her in. I feel her melt into my grasp, and she lets her head fall back, resting on my clavicle.

“I can’t wait until later when we have a minute alone together. I have a little gift of my own to share.” I pull back, looking into her eyes.

“Not that kind of gift. That is not on the horizon.” She tries to push me away a bit, but I just hold her tighter. Laney’s referring to getting pregnant again. I won’t lie; I wanted at least one more, but after Micah’s delivery, she was done. He was our biggest baby, weighing a whopping nine and a half pounds. She had to have a cesarean section because he would not come out any other way. Laney hated the recovery from that delivery, and it was too much for her body.

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