Текст книги "Seduction and Snacks"
Автор книги: Tara Sivec
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Oh my God, stop. STOP!
One of his eyebrows cocked and I swear I heard him crack his knuckles.
"She smells like chocolate and I don't like to be spanked," I blurted in a panic.
"Jesus Christ..." George muttered, shaking his head.
I saw Claire smack Liz from behind George. Liz was snorting with laughter. Of course she found this funny.
"I don't like to be spanked either. How's come I don't have hair on my balls? Mommy, you aren't going to spank him are you?"
"Yes, Mommy, tell us. Are you going to spank Carter for being a bad boy?" Liz said in her best Marilyn Monroe voice. In the chaos of the shit storm that was happening, I never really got a good look at the kid Claire was holding. His back had been facing me up until a few seconds ago and I hadn’t been paying much attention when I caught him from running away outside. Claire had to shift him to her other arm so she could smack Liz. He was staring right at me now. He was a really good-looking kid. But that wasn't surprising since he looked just like her. But there was something about him...
I cocked my head to the side and he did the same. I realized no one was speaking but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. The edges of my vision started to turn black and I felt like I was going to pass out. He had my eyes. He had my fucking eyes! I quickly tried to do the math but my brain was a jumbled mess and I couldn’t remember what number comes after potato!
What the fuck is happening right now? This couldn't be real. My sperm betrayed me. I suddenly had a vision of my sperm swimming around and talking in Bruce Willis's voice like in Look Who's Talking. "Come on! Swim faster! This little shit has no idea we escaped from the condom! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!"
My Bruce Willis sperm is bad ass and thinks he's John McClane from "Die Hard." That is the only explanation for this fuckery.
"Who are you?" I asked the kid with my eyes when I finally found my voice.
"I'm Gavin Morgan, who the hell are you?"
11. Good Vibrations
Oh fuck.
My dad was going to kill Carter before I even got a chance to tell him that he was a father. Although, I was pretty sure that ship has sailed. He's either mentally challenged or in shock. Or I completely missed the fact that he liked to shout about hairy balls and being spanked.
Gavin did like to talk about his balls all the time. Could be hereditary…
"Who are you?" Carter whispered, staring straight at Gavin like he was trying to figure out the square root of pi in his head.
"I'm Gavin Morgan, who the hell are you?"
"GAVIN!" we all scolded, except for Carter. He still looked like he might throw up.
Shit, this was so not how I saw this happening. I knew after all of our conversations and how much I’d gotten to know Carter that I was going to have to come clean soon. And I had planned on telling him today, easing him into it.
After I plied him with enough alcohol to choke a horse.
"This is one of mommy's friends, buddy," I told Gavin. "Friend" seemed better than "the father you never knew you had" or “the guy who knocked mommy up” at the moment. I could wait until he was a teenager to scar him with that information.
Gavin started to get bored with the lack of excitement in the room since everyone pretty much just stood there and waited for Carter’s brain to explode. Gavin had the attention span of a two-year-old with ADD on crack. He started to squirm in my arms so I put him down. I held my breath as he stalked right over and stood in front of Carter with his hands on his hips.
"You're Mommy's fwiend?" he questioned.
Carter just nodded with his mouth open and no sound coming out. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even hear Gavin. Someone could have asked him if he liked to watch gay porn while painting pictures of kittens and he would have nodded his head.
Before anyone could react, Gavin pulled back one of his little fists of fury and slammed it right into Carters manhood. He immediately bent over at the waist, clutching his hands between his legs and gasping for breath.
"Oh my God! Gavin!" I yelled, as I scrambled over to him, bent down and turned him around to face me while my dad and Liz laughed like hyenas behind me.
"What is wrong with you? We don't hit people. EVER," I scolded.
While Carter tried to breathe again, my dad managed to stop laughing long enough to apologize.
"Sorry, Claire, that's probably my fault. I let Gavin watch "Fight Club" with me last night."
I am Claire’s complete mortification.
"Your fwiends got you sick the other night. You said he was your fwiend," Gavin explained, like it made all the sense in the world.
This just made my dad laugh even louder.
"Not helping, Dad," I growled through clenched teeth.
"You don't make my mommy sick, dicky-punk!" Gavin yelled at Carter, putting his two little fingers up by his eyes, and then pointing them right at Carter just like Liz had done to him earlier.
"Jesus Christ," Carter wheezed. "Did he just threaten me?"
"Jesus Cwist!" Gavin repeated back.
Liz scurried over then and scooped Gavin up into her arms.
"Okay, little man, how about me, you and Papa go for a walk and talk about big-people words?" she asked him as she walked over to my dad and grabbed him around the elbow.
I stood up and shot her a look of thanks. She just smiled and dragged my dad out the door with Gavin talking her ear off about something he saw on Spongebob.
When Carter and I were finally alone, I chanced a look at him. He didn't look pissed. He didn't look sad. He just looked like he had no idea where he was or what day it was. We stood there looking at each other for several minutes until the silence finally got to me.
"Would you please say something?" I begged.
Just moments ago I was blissfully happy that he finally figured out who I was. He held me close and he was going to kiss me. Now everything was ruined and it was my fault for not telling him sooner.
Carter shook his head as if trying to clear it.
"That was a kid," he stated. "I don't like kids."
I bit my tongue. He was still in shock. I couldn't just go off on him because he said something like that. Hell, I don't even like kids and I live with one. I love my kid, but that doesn’t mean I like him all the time.
"I used a condom. I know I used a condom," he said in an accusatory tone, shooting me a panicked look.
Okay, that was it for the tongue biting. The pleasure I’d felt earlier when he’d had his body pressed up against mine and his lips on my neck flew right out the window.
"Really? You can actually remember that? Because I'm pretty sure up until about twenty minutes ago you had no fucking idea who I even was. You're right though, you did use a condom. You put it on three thrusts after you took my virginity. But let me clear something up for you there Einstein, they aren't one-hundred percent effective, especially when they aren’t used properly," I fumed.
"I dry heave whenever anyone pukes. And I don't know how to change a diaper," he said in horror.
"Carter, he's four. He doesn't wear diapers. And he's not Linda Blair from the Exorcist. He's doesn't walk around spewing vomit all day," I said with a roll of my eyes.
"My wiener hurts. I need a drink," he muttered before turning and walking out the door.
***
By the time Liz and my dad came back to the store with Gavin, I was in no mood to talk to either one of them. I put Gavin in the car and went home without saying a word. I was probably acting like a big baby, but I didn't care. I was mad at them for thinking this whole thing was funny, I was mad at myself for not telling Carter as soon as I saw him, and I was mad that I was mad about all this.
Who cares that he freaked out and would probably never talk to us again? It wasn't like we were missing out on anything. Gavin had no idea who he was. How could you miss something you never had?
But I did have him. Literally. And even thought I was fucked up at the time, I know what I’m missing. For two weeks he opened up to me and I knew so much more about him than I did before. I know he loves his family and wants more than anything to have one of his own some day. I know he’s a hard worker and would do anything for those he loved. For just a moment, it was nice to have him here. To be in the same room with him, to see him smile and hear him laugh, to feel his arms around me and know I wasn’t alone in this crazy parenthood thing.
Shit. I was good and fucked. I did care. I wanted him in my life; in Gavin’s life. I wanted Gavin to know his father and I wanted Carter to know what kind of an awesome little person he helped to create. I want to spend more time with him and I want him to know me. Not the partial version I gave him on the phone for fear of slipping up about Gavin or the chocolate-scented fantasy version he held onto all these years, the real me. The one who put her dreams on hold to raise his son, the one who would do it all over again in a minute if it meant she got to have Gavin in her life, the not so perfect crazy me who jumps to conclusions and freaks out about the most mundane things and who would give anything to go back to that morning five years ago and stay curled up in that boy’s arms who smelled like sweet cinnamon and whose kisses were hotter than an inferno.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house from top to bottom. This was a sure sign I was agitated. I hate cleaning.
I was on my hands and knees pulling shit out from under the couch. A pop-tart wrapper, a sucker stick and a sippy cup with something chunky in it that was probably milk at one time.
Jesus, Gavin hasn't used sippy cups in over a year.
"Mommy, are we havin' people over for a party?"
"No, we're not having a party, why?" I asked him as I picked up two pennies, a nickel and four empty fruit snack wrappers.
"Cuz you're cleanin'. You only clean when people are comin' over."
I pulled my head out from under the couch and sat back on my feet.
"I do not only clean when people are coming over," I argued.
"Do too."
"No I don't."
"Uh-huh."
"Do not."
"Do too."
Gaaaaah! I'm arguing with a four-year old.
"Gavin, enough!" I yelled. "Go clean your room."
"Freakin' hell," he mumbled.
"What did you just say?" I asked him with a stern voice.
"I love you mommy," he said with a smile before he threw his arms around me and squeezed.
God dammit. I am way too easy.
I ignored three calls from Liz throughout the day and one from my dad. Liz’s voicemails weren't surprising.
"Stop being a dick. Call me."
"Did you pull the stick out of your ass yet?"
"…..OH YES! Harder Jim! Oh fuck yes…"
That bitch actually butt-dialed me while she had sex with Jim.
My dad's voicemail showed just how concerned he was for my well-being.
"Did I leave my Budweiser hat at your house last week?"
As the day wore on, I started to feel sorry for Carter. I mean really, he did kind of get blindsided. One minute he was leaning in to kiss me and the next he found out he was the father of a four-year-old.
Good God, he almost kissed me.
My hand paused in the process of putting our plates from dinner into the dishwasher, and I stared off into space as I remembered what happened between us before everything went to shit. I should be trying to think of what I was going to say to Carter when we spoke again, but the memory of this morning was too fresh in my mind and it had been too long since I let a man get that close to me. My body was starved for affection. And even I couldn't deny that some small part of me had always dreamed about being with Carter again. Completely sober this time so I could remember every single detail. I was embarrassed to admit that he had always been the star in my spank bank reel. Except it was always made-up things since not much about our first encounter could be used as masturbation material aside from the kisses and how hot he looked. I had real life facts to use now. His lips had been soft and warm on the sensitive skin of my neck. I felt the tip of his tongue sneak out and taste me and I wanted more. His breath against my cheek made my heart speed up and warmth explode between my legs. When his firm hands and strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me up against him, I felt every inch of his body, including how much he wanted me. I had been on a small handful of dates over the years that never went much beyond kissing. None of those men ever made me feel even a tiny bit of what Carter did. I never craved more with any of them; I never daydreamed about what it would be like to feel their lips and tongues moving over every inch of my naked body. What would it be like to be with him without the haze of alcohol? Would he take his time? Would his hands be strong and demanding on my body, or soft and gentle? The beep of a new text message on my phone startled me from my fantasies, and I almost dropped the plate I was holding. I shoved it into the dishwasher and shut the door before walking over to the table and snatching up my cell.
If you're not going 2 call me, @ least do something 2 ease your tension.
Take bullet U got @ Jenny's party out for a test drive. Report back
2 me 2morrow ~ Liz, The Bullet Bitch
I rolled my eyes and deleted her text without responding. Why am I not surprised that Liz just sent me a text ordering me to masturbate? I turned the light off in the kitchen and made my way down the hall to peak in on Gavin. He was sound asleep so I quietly shut his bedroom door and walked across the hall to my own room. After throwing on a tank top to wear to sleep and brushing my teeth, I was curled up in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about Carter.
And his hands.
And fingers.
And lips.
Fuck!
Shouldn't I be thinking about how I was going to deal with this situation? My one-night-stand shows up after almost five years and he was just as gorgeous as ever and he was making me feel things I had no business feeling. I should be making plans. Driving over to his house so I could apologize for the way this huge bomb was dropped on him. I had nine months to prepare myself for this. He had no time and no one there he trusted or really knew to help him get a grip.
My heart threatened to melt as my brain quickly switched gears and I thought about the look on his face when he finally recognized me. Had he really been looking for me all this time? It just seemed so impossible and far-fetched. But Jesus, the look in his eyes when he realized it was me…it was almost too much. He looked like a dying man that had just been given the reprieve of life. His face lit up and his smile made me weak in the knees.
No, that was his tongue and the hard-on you felt poking you in the hip.
God he smelled amazing. He still smelled like cinnamon and boy. Well, that would be man now wouldn't it? And my-oh-my, what a man. I rubbed my thighs together when I felt that familiar tingle between my legs. Shit, I was never going to fall asleep at this rate. Or make any important decisions. I felt like a live wire about ready to burst into flames. I ran my fingertips over my bottom lip as I remembered the feel of his lips gently brushing back and forth over them. God I wanted him to kiss me so badly right then. I wanted to feel his tongue against mine, and I wanted to see if he still tasted the same as he did all those years ago. I was agitated and now, horny as hell. I knew I needed to take care of this or I’d never get to sleep. I wanted to take care of this with thoughts of Carter fresh on my mind, but suddenly, the thought of my own hand bringing me the release I needed didn't sound very thrilling. I wanted it to be his hands touching me, his fingers sliding through me and pushing me over the edge. My hand just wasn't going to do it for me at this point. I reluctantly glanced over at the black suitcase leaning against my wall and gave it a dirty look.
"God dammit, Liz," I muttered to myself as I angrily flung the covers off of me and stormed over to the suitcase. I pulled open the zipper, reached in and closed my hand around one of the clear plastic, factory sealed bags containing what I needed. As soon as it was in hand, I paused and looked around the room to make sure no one had seen me. You know, just in case I suddenly lived with ten people who might be standing in my room watching me without my knowledge. I huffed in frustration, crawled back into bed and leaned against the headboard. I was an independent, twenty-four-year-old grown-ass woman. Why the hell was I so freaked out about using a vibrator? This was the twenty-first century for Christ sakes. My grandma probably owned one of these things.
Uuuughhh, *gag*. I just threw up in my mouth a little. Note to self: thinking about masturbating grandmas is not, I repeat NOT on the list of approved spank bank material.
Determined to do this thing before I had any more disgusting thoughts about relatives that may or may not own a battery operated boyfriend, I tore open the plastic with my teeth and dumped the contents of the package onto my lap. I picked up the blue, oval, plastic remote, letting the twelve inches or so of thin cord that was attached to the remote unfold until a small, silver cylinder was dangling from the end in front of my eyes like a pendulum, slowly swaying back and forth.
You’re getting very horny. I’m going to count backwards and when I get to one, you will be a satisfied woman.
I rolled my eyes and scooted my body down until I was lying flat on my back. Setting the remote down by my hip, I stared at the little silver peanut of pleasure. I had a moment of panic trying to figure out if I really believed in ghosts and if I did, were they watching me right now? Was Mr. Phillips, the dirty old man who lived across the street when I was little and died of a heart-attack when I was twelve, standing in the corner waiting for me to diddle myself? Was my great-grandma Rebecca standing there waiting to yell at me and tell me I was going in time out if I couldn’t keep it down?
Son of a bitch!
"You better be worth all this self-doubt, my little friend," I threatened the battery operated toy.
I shook my head at my stupidity for talking out loud to a vibrator, closed my eyes and flicked the damn thing on with my free hand that was still resting on the remote before I lost my nerve.
That thing may be little, but it had a kick. It jerked alive in my hand and if there weren't any ghosts in my room before, the whirring sound of this thing was sure to wake those fuckers up from the dead and bring them right to the source of the noise to see what the ruckus was.
I flew under the covers, dragging the bullet with me and hugging it tight against my stomach in an effort to muffle the noise. When you were little and you were afraid of the boogey man, getting under the covers meant he couldn't see you or grab your foot while you were sleeping. True story. I figured the same rules applied with dead people watching you masturbate. Under the covers means it wasn't really happening. You can't see me! My sheets are magic and they make my vagina disappear!
Oddly, the vibrations of this thing against my stomach felt good. Sort of like a massage that lulled some calm into me. Calm is good. I need calm. I took a deep breath, relaxed into the mattress and closed my eyes once again, conjuring up images of Carter from this morning ― Carter’s eyes, Carter’s mouth, Carter’s wet, warm tongue dipping between my breasts.
Okay, that didn't happen. But this was a diddling daydream and I could make daydream-Carter lick me if I wanted to. And I wanted to. I wanted him to lick and suck on my neck. I wanted him to lick and suck on my nipples. I wanted him to lick and suck a trail down my stomach and sink his mouth between my legs. My hand holding the bullet followed the same path Carter’s mouth did in my mind, until the tiny vibrating tube rested right outside of my underwear.
Whoa. Okay, this is good.
I pushed the bullet a little harder against myself and my hips jerked forward as tiny pin-pricks of pleasure shot through me.
"Jesus, God…." I mumbled, along with a few other incoherent words of shock and awe.
My hips rocked against the vibrator and I let out a small, whimpered moan at how good this felt. This was insane. I was not going to last more than a minute with this thing. I could feel the wetness in my underwear and the throbbing all through my sex and suddenly I wanted more than anything to feel the cold, smooth metallic toy directly against my bare skin. Faster than I've ever moved, I slid the bullet away and up to my stomach and pushed it and my hand beneath my underwear, quickly shoving it back where it belonged. As soon as the vibrations and the smooth metal came in direct contact with the bareness between my legs, a loud moan escaped from my lips, my head flew back and my eyes squeezed shut. With this thing pulsating between my legs, I didn't really need images of Carter, but I still wanted them. I pictured his smooth fingers pushing into me, his lips pulling my nipple into his mouth and his thumb rubbing circles around the very sensitive area the bullet currently touched. The sensations were almost too much and I cried out in surprise, arching my back as the first wave of an orgasm rocked through my core while I rubbed the bullet quickly against me.
"Holy hell," I moaned as I rode wave after wave of pleasure that made my toes curl. I was panting from my release and the energy slowly drained out of me but my hands still slid the bullet through my wetness and rubbed it quickly against my overly sensitive clit out of their own accord. Before I could even form a coherent thought, another orgasm, slightly less intense than the first, pulsed through me and put a stop to all of my movements. My mouth was open but no sound came out as I held my breath and felt the intense throb of my release pound through me. Several minutes passed before my brain started to function again. I yanked the bullet out of my underwear before I had a chance to and turn into one of those crazy nut jobs on the show “My Strange Addiction” who locked herself in her room and did nothing but masturbate and watch the Food Network all day. I quickly shut the vibrator off, the sudden lack of a buzzing sound making the room seem eerily quiet all of a sudden.
I laid there like a slug in the bed, unable to lift any of my limbs for several minutes while my eyelids drooped with fatigue. When I finally recovered the use of my arms, I reached over to the nightstand without sitting up, grabbed my cell phone and started a new text.
Bullet Bitch: Homework assignment completed. My vagina will never be the same. ~ Claire
***
A knock on the door shook me from my thoughts. Okay, maybe not thoughts, catatonic state might have been more accurate. I’d done nothing but go to work and stare at the empty walls in my house for two days since Claire dropped the bomb on me. I shuffled morosely over to the door and threw it open. Drew stood there wearing a black shirt that said "Alice in Chains" with a picture of Alice from the Brady Bunch wearing a ball gag, handcuffs and chains. He smiled and held up a six-pack of beer.
"Sober man enters, drunk man leaves.”
I shut the door in his face and walked back over to my spot on the couch.
He reopened the door himself and walked in.
"Alright, Mary, there's no need to act like a baby," he said as he set the beer on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch next to me. My nose curled up in disgust at the smell coming from him.
"Jesus, Drew, what the fuck is that smell?" I moaned as I covered my nose with my hand.
"Don't be a hater. I picked it up today. It's Tim McGraw's cologne."
"You mean it's Tim McGraw's balls. That smells like pure cat piss dude."
"Fuck you," Drew grumbled.
"No thanks. The smell of piss does nothing for me."
Drew huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down.
"Alright, out with it. Before I run to the store and buy you Midol and tampons."
My head fell to the back of the couch. I knew I was being a little bitch but I couldn't help it. My world just blew up in my face.
"She has a kid. I'm somebody's dad," I muttered.
"Yeah, I got that already from the voicemail you left me last night. Although, I have to say, trying to decipher “Bruce Willis got her pregnant with my chocolate hairy balls at the frat party” took some time to figure out. Luckily, I was able to get a hold of Jim and Liz since you wouldn't answer my calls."
"What the hell am I going to do?" I asked him as I lifted my head up to look at him.
"First of all, you're going to talk to her and get the whole story. I know you're in shock but sitting around here all day fingering your vagina isn't going to make anything better. So man-up. Go talk to her. You spent all these years trying to find her and here she is, right in front of you. So she's got a little baggage. Who doesn't?"
"A little baggage? Drew, she has a son. That's more than a little baggage," I complained.
"Wake up and look in the mirror baby-daddy. He's your son too. And you spent the last few years trying to fuck her out of your system with some chick you could barely stand. That's not just baggage, that's luggage, bags, suitcases, carry-ons, back-packs and Clinique make-up bags."
I gave him a questioning look.
"What? I like to moisturize. Healthy skin is the sign of a healthy life. I need a make-up bag for my exfoliators, pore cleansers and firming skin lotion."
Drew stood up and turned to face me.
“In the words of the great Maury Povich, You ARE the father."
I thanked him for the beers and the pep talk and watched him leave for his date with Jenny. Not a surprise there, considering the way he almost humped her leg at dinner the night they met. According to Drew, they’d spent every waking moment together since then. People were going out, falling in love, living their lives and I was stuck here with my head up my ass Googling litigations against condom companies and realizing that I CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.
Could I do this? Could I really be someone's dad?
I guess there was only one way to find out.
