Page 63 of Wake Me Up
“We are so lucky to have you in our lives,” she whispers. “And I guess now seems like a good time to ask you … would you like to come to Thanksgiving at my parents’ house?”
“Hell yes, I would,” I say instantly, and she beams.
I take her hand in mine, playing with her fingers. My cock twitches when I rub the pads of my fingers against her wedding ring.
The wedding ring I gave her.
For so long, she kept the ring on from Jamie. And I don’t blame her because he was the love of her life. But today, she came to my house, and I got to make love to her in my bed while she wore my ring.
“I’m the lucky son of a bitch,” I murmur, bringing her hand to my mouth and kissing her fingers. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers. “So much.”
“Good.” I tilt my chin upward at her. “Now climb on your husband’s lap and ride his cock before we go run errands.”
Her nipples grow hard, and right away, she’s climbing aboard. “You’re going to run errands with me?”
“Fucking right I am.” I put my hands on her waist, lowering her down onto my growing length. “Make us both come, darlin’.”
With her hands on my chest, she starts to move, her big, full tits bouncing. She looks so fucking hot while she fucks my dick. She takes exactly what she needs, and she’s not shy about it either. And within minutes, we’re both coming.
And I already can’t wait for the next time because she’s so fucking addictive.
Ilie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s past two in the morning, but I can’t fall asleep. Unlike the past nights when I lay here, smiling like a moron because I was remembering how sweet Tripp had been to me and my kids, right now … I’m restless for other reasons. Or one particular reason that occurred earlier today. Well, yesterday, I should say.
Though I couldn’t tell you the reason, Tripp asking about my scars didn’t really hit me until after I dropped him off once I ran my errands with him by my side. Now, days later, and I can’t get the short encounter we had that involved him asking about those scars off my mind.
When I told him that Aviana’s delivery was rough and I knew I didn’t want more kids, he simply kissed my scars one by one, and then we had sex again. When I told him I knew I didn’t want more kids, I didn’t mean that I had gotten those scars during labor and delivery. I meant … I had gotten those scars from a tubal removal months after I gave birth to my final child because I knew that it would be dangerous for me to try to carry another. My preeclampsia was so bad with Aviana that the doctor said we could have both died. And then I hemorrhaged. All of this made me know without a shadow of a doubt that I was done having kids—and luckily, Jamie felt the same way because it scared him.
I should have been more forward with Tripp and told him that those scars had come from a surgery I had to make sure I never got pregnant again. He doesn’t have kids of his own. What if that’s something he wants and I can’t give him it?
Who am I kidding? Of course he wants kids of his own! He’s so good with kids. He’s taking Aviana to a damn Jonas Brothers concert, for Christ’s sake. Or he was going to, but now that I have to tell him the truth, I know that will likely be the end of the road for us. I can’t hold him back from his dreams, especially when he doesn’t even know that I can’t give him everything I’m sure he wants in life.
I wish more than anything that I hadn’t invited him to Thanksgiving at my parents’ house tomorrow night because now, I have to face him. Not only that, but I have to do it without ruining everyone else’s holiday.
One thing is for sure though: I can’t keep this from him. It’s not fair to either of us.
“Any big plans, baby?” My mom smiles at me on the screen.
I feel bad that I’m not home for Thanksgiving, but at least she has my sister’s house to go to. I think I feel worse that I won’t see my niece and nephew for the holiday, but it goes with the territory of living so far away.
“Nah, not really,” I say, even though it’s kind of a lie. “Going to a friend’s house here in a bit. That’s about it.”
“That’ll be good.”
She looks as pretty as she always does, but carries more and more lines around her eyes all the time. I try to get home every few months, but then life comes up, and before I know it, three months have passed, and I haven’t gone back.
“What time you fixin’ to go to Pea’s?”
“Probably in an hour or so. You know your sister with nap times—always trying to plan everything around that.” Her words would put off the vibe that she’s annoyed, but her smile tells the opposite. “She’s a dang good mama though. She just … really likes a schedule.”
“She learned from the best,” I tell her because it’s the truth. My mom was the best mom. Still is.
“Did you just give me a compliment, Tripp Talmage?” She grins. “And thanks, babe, but I certainly didn’t go quite as extreme with the schedule. And I think you both turned out just fine.”
“Depends who you’re asking, I suppose.” I look over at the timer on the stove. “I gotta run. My casserole needs to come out of the oven.”
“Casserole?” Her eyes practically bug out of her head. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my son?”
