Conflicted Love (Needle's Kiss) (15 page)

Teeny

“Honey, I’m home,” Trip called out as he shut the front door.

“Very funny, smartass. I’m in the kitchen,” I called back smiling to myself. It was a little scary how quickly we’d fallen back into a routine.

I’d been working for Scarlett for a few weeks and I was so damn close to finishing my license. Trip and I seemed to work really well together. We drove in to Needle’s Kiss when I was on, which was only three days a week for the time being. I knew I had a full time spot at the parlor when I was ready to go back to work after the baby arrived, but for the time being, I had been ordered by Trip and Scarlet to take it easy. Apparently, my waddling around with a big belly looking every part the thirty-one weeks huge I was, provided hours of entertainment for them.

“Favorite thing, ever.” I turned around wiping my hands on a dishtowel to find Trip leaning back against the counter, legs crossed out in front of him, his piercing blue eyes hooded. He let his bottom lip out from between his teeth and pinned me with a look that was sure to set any woman’s cootch on fire.

“What?” I all but panted, my heartbeat picking up and my nipples standing to attention. One of his hands left the countertop he was gripping and traveled down to the bulge in the front of his pants.

“You, in the kitchen, barefoot, pregnant and bent over. Fuckin hot, babe.” He grabbed his junk and squeezed, his eyes taking a slow purposeful trip down my body kicking the temperature in the room up a few notches.

My body was on fire; he was doing nothing short of eye fucking me right there in the middle of the kitchen. Pushing off the counter, he took a predatory stride toward me, reminding me of a lion on the prowl. “Casserole,” I blurted backing up a step; my brain had short-circuited. His smirk dropped when I licked my very dry lips. His gaze zoned in and he growled low in his throat.

“Trip, dinner’ll burn.” I watched as his pupils dilated further and he took another stride toward me. I was pinned between the oven and a very turned-on hunk of muscle oozing sex.

“You want it,” he rumbled deep from his fast rising chest. I did. I so badly wanted it. All of it, over and over again.

I smiled coyly and sidestepped him. I wasn’t fast enough though; he grabbed me and kissed the ever-loving hell out of me. At some point during the brain-scattering onslaught of his talented tongue in my mouth, he’d turned us around and backed me up against the kitchen table. Trip broke the kiss, leaned past me and pushed the silverware, placemats and napkins to the floor before effortlessly lifting my ass onto the bare table. He tore my sundress over my head. I locked my legs around his waist grinding my hips and taking pleasure in his rock-hard cock. I rubbed the perfect spot, which sent delicious tingles right through me.

He ripped his cotton t-shirt over his head while I fumbled with his jeans’ buttons—not able to get him naked fast enough. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in my panty-clad crotch alternating between pulling at the thin scrap of material with his teeth and sucking on my clit. I fell back, my arms barely holding me upright on the tabletop as he worked me over until I could do nothing but scream his name.

Good Lord have mercy
. The image of Trip standing before me breathing hard and wiping my cum from his mouth in a pair of undone jeans, boots and nothing but ink and leather wristbands, had me ready to mount him and ride the shit out of him until I couldn’t move.

With no patience left, he pulled my underwear to the side, freed his angry-looking cock from his jeans and slammed into me balls deep. Both of us moaning in unison as he took me right back to the edge of bliss.

“I messed up the cute table. Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbled against my sweaty skin. Still breathing heavily after a mind shattering orgasm, I couldn’t even form words to tell him I didn’t give a damn about the table. I was pretty much limp from head-to-toe and I had no intention of moving even if I could.

“Dinner,” I mumbled out when the oven timer buzzed signaling dinner was ready.

“I’ll get it, Princess. You go clean up and we’ll eat in the living room.” He kissed me sweetly, pulled out and did his pants up. I, however, laid in a boneless heap on the kitchen table, not caring in the slightest that it was more than a little unhygienic.

“I think I like being a house bitch,” I mused once I’d managed to get myself standing.

Trip laughed and handed me my clothes. As I shuffled from the kitchen, I heard him say, “Love that woman.” This of course made me smile in a giddy-girly kind of way.

I came back downstairs a few minutes later to see he’d set the coffee table with our dinner, fresh cutlery and a sad looking candle. The sweet gesture had my stomach erupting with butterflies. He told me once he wasn’t good at being romantic. He’d lied. He was good and it’d get him lucky on more than one occasion.

“You choose,” he said passing me the remote. A list of movies was up on the television screen. I must have been looking at him like he’d just landed from Mars ‘cause he laughed and nodded to my hand. “Don’t think about it, just pick one, Princess, and hurry up or dinner will get cold.” It didn’t end there. He then proceeded to pass me my bowl filled with steaming hot casserole and a fork, and then he pulled my feet up onto his lap. I just sat there looking like a moron gaping like a fish out of water. He was being ridiculously sweet. “Eat, stop looking at me like I’m weird,” he smirked when I snapped back to reality. I was going to lap it all up. God only knew when I’d see this awesome side of Trip again. I clicked on the cheesiest chick flick I could find and waited for the smartass comments to begin, but alas, I got nothing more than a smile as he shoveled food into his mouth and moaned.

“I think I’ll keep you. This is the shit, Princess,” he mumbled around a mouthful of casserole. Smiling to myself, I got comfortable with my bowl resting on top of my very round stomach and enjoyed the peace of being where I was. Right there with Trip, feeling all of the things I was feeling, rather than a pang of jealously that I usually felt, I was instead filled with contentment.

Not twenty minutes later, he started rubbing slow circles on my feet. My eyes snapped up from the movie to see him concentrating on his task looking a little angry. I pulled my feet away to signal he didn’t have to rub them figuring he was annoyed at having to play with my fat-assed ankles; they were less than appealing.

“You don’t have to,” I said quietly looking down at the monstrosity that was my hulk feet. Trip gently tugged them back into his lap and kept rubbing as I tried to stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the heavenly pressure of his fingers working deep in the muscle.

“They look sore. You shouldn’t be on them so much,” he grumbled. “I should be keeping an eye on this sort of crap to make sure you aren’t overdoing it. I’m not taking care of you properly.” I laughed at his expression; he was mad because he thought he could stop my feet from swelling. Not because they looked gross. That warmth enveloped me again as I sat ignoring the movie and just taking in the shirtless muscle of sexy doting on me.

“Cankles,” I whispered under my breath. “I have cankles.” My bottom lip dropped to a pout.

“The fuck are cankles?” he asked smiling at me like I was crazy. He slid his hands up to said cankles and continued his onslaught.

“Cankles are when your ankles and calves turn into one thing, there is no definition left; they are just that. Cankles,” I finished on a moan. “I’m thinking I need to be in the kitchen more often when you get home.” I felt him shift as the bulge in his pants inflated. I liked screwing with him, so I purposely groaned and threw my head back while biting down on my bottom lip to stop the smile from breaking over my face.

My eyes snapped open when my feet were pushed from his lap. He stood, adjusted himself and picked me up bridal style. I couldn’t help the snort that burst out when he strode with purpose up the stairs to what had become a shared bed.

Trip

The next morning, I got up early and set to work on my plan. I called in favors from Mace and Scarlett, who had only just gotten back from their honeymoon, in hopes that I could surprise Teeny and show her I could be what she needed. Wracking my brain last night while I’d lain awake, I came up with a foolproof idea. I was going to convince her she didn’t need anyone else. I would be all she needed, not some fool who wanted a quick screw. Nobody was gonna touch her but me. I was going to be sweet. So sweet she’d get a damn toothache.

“Up, Sleeping Beauty,” I smiled tugging at the sheet wrapped around her still-naked, warm body. The smell of peaches and sex filled the air; with an adorable grumble, she shoved her head under the pillow and tried to ignore me.

“C’mon, Princess.” I pulled the pillow out of her vise-like grip and threw it to the ground. “You gotta get up.” I chuckled at the scowl she was throwing me and sat down on the side of the bed picking up the ginger ale and plain crackers I’d brought up. Ma told me they were good for the puking, so I had stocked the house full of both.

“I don’t like you right now,” she grumbled at me. A strange warmth hit me right in the chest. Even first thing in the morning, with bed hair and morning breath, she still looked fucking gorgeous.

“Quit being a brat and get up. I have the day off and we got shit to do.” I passed her the glass and a cracker. Instantly, her face softened. “You brought me stuff.” Her eyes started to mist up.

Shit, what’d I do now?

“I—well, Ma said and…shit, Princess, don’t go cryin’ on me,” I told her softly.

Sniffling, she took a sip of her drink and a bite of cracker. “I can’t help it. I just cry sometimes. It won’t stop and you did this.” She held up the cracker, dropped her head and mumbled, “It’s sweet, probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” The comment alone had my chest panging with guilt and something I couldn’t put my finger on. This woman deserved sweet and sweet she’d get. I could do sweet, or at least, I hoped I could.

She was a hot mess ninety-percent of the time. We had read up on all the pregnancy things, and the morning sickness was supposed to have stopped months ago, but Teeny being Teeny, had to do everything in her own time. She was still getting sick in the mornings. We had, however, managed to figure out that if she ate small amounts often, it would lessen her being sick, but the morning one was still baffling.

Three hours later—yes, three, because apparently it took three freakin’ hours to get one person dressed; this included a meltdown over not being able to reach her feet and some crap about hidden vaginas and furry mountain lions—we pulled up to the baby store, our first stop of the day. Jumping out, I rounded the truck and opened Teeny’s door offering my hand to help her down.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her eyes darting around with a mixture of excitement and awe.

“We need stuff for Junior.” Nudging her forward with a hand to her back, I passed the over-eager sales chicks and headed toward the back of the shop.

“Junior?” she asked quietly.

“Yep, that’s what I’m callin’ the kid now. He’s too big for midget.” Gesturing my head toward the huge shelves of baby carriers, I told her, “Pick one.”

She looked unsure, so I nudged her and repeated myself. “Pick one, Princess.”

With wide eyes, she whispered, “I can’t yet. I have to save more money first.” I simply rolled my eyes and gestured to the sales girl hovering off to the side of us. “Teen, I told you I’d help. This is me helpin’.” I turned toward the approaching woman effectively ending the conversation before she could argue.

“What can I help you with today?” Looking to her nametag, I turned on my charm “Kerri, I’d like to see the best carrier you have on the market please.” With a smile, she moved to the shelves. “This one here is—” Whatever she was about to say died on her lips as the carrier hit the ground.

“Trip! What are you doing?“ Teeny rushed forward grabbing my arm and apologized to the sales girl, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“I gotta make sure it’s a safe one,” I answered flipping the carrier the right way up before I buried my head in the padding. “Yep, this one’s soft. We will take this one, but I want a new one. This one’s been thrown around a bit.” Kerri, the sales girl, smiled and nodded. Turning to Teeny who had a shocked look on her face, I put it to her, “So, you wanna pick the stroller?” Unsurprisingly, she nodded and walked quickly toward the display.

“Kerri,” I called to the still smiling sales girl, “we might need a big-assed cart.” With a quick nod and a laugh, she rushed off to get one.

Walking up behind Teeny, I slipped my arms around her rounded waist. “Which one?” A tiny tinkling laugh escaped her lips as she pointed to the one she wanted.

“That’s not very manly,” I pointed out.

“How do you know it’s a boy? We might have a girl.” She turned in my arms slightly and looked up at my face.

My eyebrows drew together at the idea of a little girl. “My seed is strong, woman. It makes big healthy boys. With large penises.” Teeny snickered at me and patted my chest.

A girl? I couldn’t have a girl. Although…well…the thought hadn’t even occurred to me that a girl was even a possibility. “I don’t know anything about little girls,” I said sounding a little put out. Teeny being Teeny didn’t comfort me but laughed instead.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Before I could argue, the sales girl came back and loaded the stroller Teeny picked on the cart with the carrier.

“Will there be anything else?” Kerri asked snapping me out of my pondering.

“A sling thingy, like this.” I pulled a folded-up piece of paper from my back pocket and handed it over. Teeny looked at me like I’d just stepped out of the twilight zone. “I looked some stuff up and printed it off.”

Lifting up on tiptoes, she kissed my cheek and whispered, “Thank you.” I liked this side of Teen, all soft and cute.

Pulling up to the house with the truck full of baby stuff, my phone vibrated. A text from Mace confirmed everything was set. Thank God. He’d cut it close on the timing, but he always did like to mess with my head. Nerves racked me as we walked up to the front door and I slid the key in the lock.

“Come with me.” Grabbing her hand, I pulled her up the stairs with me and stopped in front of the white bedroom door. It had been a hell of job keeping her out of this room for the past few months. I’d had everything covered, and a shit load of boxes filling the room trying to push her off the scent. That and of course I kept the door locked. The boxes were just in case she’s decided to try to pick the lock. Pregnant women did crazy shit sometimes. I hadn’t known how to show her everything that I’d bought for our baby all those months ago. I hoped to fuck that I’d finally picked the right time.

“What are we—“ I shushed her question with a quick kiss, reached forward and pushed the door open. Her gasp broke the silence of the room. “What do you think?” I asked, worried she’d hate it.

She openly gaped at everything in front of her. Her voice turned thick as she said, “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” moving toward the mahogany crib. “You did this?”

A shot of pride had my chest swelling. She liked it. While she was occupied, I hurried myself and poured the non-alcoholic grape juice into two fancy-ass glasses. Thank God, my brother was a pussy and knew what to get; otherwise, we would have been drinking out of red plastic beer cups.

“I’m glad you like it,” I whispered coming up behind her a glass in each hand.
Sweet, sweet, be sweet
, I internally chanted.

“I thought you were hiding something weird like a stripper pole or a collection of women’s underwear in this room; the door was always locked.” I smiled at that, knowing it annoyed the hell out of her that I’d kept this room shut away. 

“I can always install a stripper pole. I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you on one,” I mumbled mentally scanning the house layout for the best place to install one and quickly deciding our bedroom would be the best place. I needed to make some calls and get that happening, nothing would be better than seeing Teen put on a show just for me. The idea alone sent a rush of blood to my dick. 

Bringing my arms around her from behind, I passed her a glass and dropped a kiss on her neck; I loved how soft the skin was there. “Move in with me,” my lips gently brushing against her throat as I spoke.

Goosebumps broke out over her skin and she breathed out, “I’m not sure if you realized this but I’m kind of here already.”

“No, move in with me, move in with me. Not stay with me. Move in with me,” I clarified. I wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but at some point, the idea of not having her here when we got home from work or waking up in the morning to an empty bed made my chest tight and my stomach burn.

“Why?” Of course, she has to ask that. I was convinced she secretly got a kick out of making me lay all my feelings out there.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Her answering snort made me smile. She always did that adorable snort when she gave me shit, and it was just plain old cute. “Fine,” I mock grumbled snuggling my face deeper into her neck. “I want you in my bed to take care of morning wood.” So much for sweet, I thought before rephrasing. ”I want to wake up to your pretty face every day. I want to take care of you and Junior.” I wasn’t so good at this feelings stuff, but I had to get better because Teeny deserved the best.

“You really want me to move in?” she asked quietly with a wobble in her voice. My arm wrapped around her, I placed my hand on her stomach. “I want you both to move in with me.” The baby decided that was the perfect moment to make itself known and kicked. A lump formed in my throat as the emotions crashed down on me. I had never contemplated being a father, but right then, I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather be.

“Oh,” Teeny gasped. I scooted around in front of her and dropped down to my knees lifting her shirt up and placing a kiss right where Junior’s little foot had pushed out. Awe and wonder filled me as I watched Junior moving around under her skin. I could honestly say I’d never seen anything so magical in my entire life.

“He’s strong,” I murmured completely enthralled by his movements.

“She, she’s strong. Junior might be a girl. We’ve talked about this.” My head snapped up to look at her smiling face.

“Nope, it’s a boy. There’s testosterone. I can sense these things you know.” My brows scrunched; it better be a boy. I would be pretty screwed if I had a girl who looked like her mother. I’d be beating up ten-year-olds and decapitating teenage boys before I knew it.

“I’m still betting on a girl. You need to be kept on your toes.” Teeny reached out and cupped my face in her hands. An insanely terrifying thought punched through my chest.

“What if I’m no good at it,” I worried aloud.

“No good at what, honey?” she asked confused by my sudden outburst.

“Being a dad. What if I’m no good at it and mess it all up. What if it—” My eyes went saucer-wide as I locked eyes with her. “What if Junior turns out like me?”

“Trip, hear me now. I’m only going to say this once. There is nothing wrong with being you; you’re sweet and kind. You’re funny and fiercely loyal. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. I know the real you and I love you for it. If our child turns out anything like you, that would be a blessing,” she gently reassured me. My mind was blown. Teeny wasn’t often the type to get all deep and meaningful, but right there, me on my knees, she meant it. I could see it shining from her eyes. She really meant every damn word she’d said.