Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) (12 page)

“Babe,” I gasp and pull out. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“Whatever you want.” Her eyes, wide and willing, tell me she means it. “You know that.”

I’ve been storing this fantasy in the back of my head ever since I heard she’s pregnant. Thinking about the first time I’m inside her knowing she’s carrying my baby. I slide to the floor beside her, pressing her back into the thick pile rug. I slowly ease up the t-shirt, revealing first a pair of the panties I bought her. I trace the wet spot her pussy leaked through the shell pink silk.

“Sucking me off turns you on?”

I know it does. She’s told me it does, but I love seeing the evidence for myself. She just nods and opens her legs wider like the gate to a city eager to be conquered. She has these subtle ways of directing me. I rub circles over the sensitive skin inside her thighs, and then suckle the soft spots behind her knees. She is my delicacy. My sweet, fragile treat. By the time I reach the little pink panties, she’s twisting and writhing. I lay my lips against the wet circle left by her arousal and nudge her panties aside with my nose. I draw in the sweet muskiness of her scent.

“God, Pep,” I groan. “Even your smell is addictive.”

“Rhyson, baby.” A subtle roll of her hips brushes my lips against her wetness. “Please.”

I ease up past the waistband of her panties and have to stop at her stomach. I kiss the taut skin of her waist reverently, dipping my tongue into the shallow well of her bellybutton. I flick a glance up to find her eyes soft on me.

“We’re having a baby,” she whispers, working her fingers into my hair.

I know she’s disappointed that we’ll have to adjust her debut release schedule. I have no doubt she’s conflicted about it, but right now, all I see is joy reflected back to me.

“Thank you, Kai.” My voice is husky with passion and gratitude.

“If you really want to thank me . . .” Mischief and desire shade her dark eyes.

I grin and knead one breast under the t-shirt while slipping two fingers inside of her. Oh, my God. She’s soaking wet and tight. With my whole hand, I massage the juices all over her pussy and then trail my finger down to the puckered entrance between her cheeks. She goes completely still. I do it again, rubbing her wetness over that tightly rimmed mystery.

“Has anyone ever had this, Pep?” If she says yes I’ll probably lose my shit.

“No,” she whispers, her eyes holding mine in the moonlight.

I press my thumb against this last frontier.

“When can I have it?”

She gulps, but her eyes never leave me.

“I’m yours. You know that.”

That is so the right damn answer. Not tonight, though. The first time we do that, I’ll take my time making sure she’s ready. If I want her to do anal more than once, I better get it right the first time. And I already know if I get in there, once won’t be enough.

My thumb shifts back to her clit, circling and pressing and pinching, all the while rolling and kneading her breast. Her eyelids fall. She slaps a palm over her forehead and bites her lip, trapping a moan in her mouth. Her orgasm quakes through her, and her thighs tremble. I want that. To feel her shaking and tightening around me. I press her knees back as far as they can go until she’s wide open, the thick pink lips a tempting exhibition between her legs.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Even though the doctor said it was fine, I find myself worrying about the baby because I already know how hard I’m going to fuck her. “I can try to be gentle.”

“You better not be.”

Her breathy answer snaps my control. I anchor her heels around my waist and push inside. She’s so small, so tight, but she takes it all every time. The only thing better than that first thrust is the second and then the third. And, oh God, that fourth one. I pull her legs over my shoulders and insinuate myself deeper. Her body obliges every swollen inch of me. I’m fucking her like an animal in blind heat. We moan in unison, surrendering to the erotic toil of our bodies.

“Pep, this is . . .” The words get lost in the hurricane churning between us.

“Yeah, it is.” She arches her back off the floor, and her eyes roll back. “Baby, I’m coming again.”

I peel the t-shirt over her head, catching the sleeves at her elbows and trapping her arms over her head. Her breasts, small and perfect with those raspberry nipples, the subtly muscled stomach, the elegant rib cage bearing the scripted prayer. My eyes drop to where we’re joined. I watch myself come out just a little, coated with her juices. Seeing that triggers some atavism in me, some ancient instinct to claim. I thought this first time with the baby would be poignant, but there’s a savage edge to it. My eyes flicker from the golden canvas of her body to her eyes. She knows me so well.

“Whatever you want, Rhyson,” she encourages. “You can have. You can do.”

That unquestioning acquiescence is all it takes. I jerk out of her body and roll my hand up and down my dick, almost collapsing from how good it feels. I spend every ounce, spraying her stomach and breasts. Patterning her torso with my love and possession. I run my fingers through the thick, warm cream, working it into her skin. I check her face to see if I’ve totally grossed her out, but her cheeks go a deeper pink. Her breath comes faster, bouncing her breasts with the furious in and out of air. Her eyes drop to my cock in my hand, and she licks her lips, again signaling what she wants from me.

I lean up until I’m right over her mouth and rub the tip of my cock over her lips, painting them wet and shiny. Her little pink tongue darts out to swipe across her lips to taste me. I don’t care that she is wet and sticky with my cum. I throw myself down on the rug beside her and pull her into my chest and tuck her head under my neck.

“Too rough?” I ask quietly into her wild hair.

“Hmmmmmm.” Her tongue darts out to lick across my neck and shoulder. “What do you think?”

I kiss her hair and roll my palm over one strong, smooth leg.

“You love me?”

“I adore you.” She rests her head on my chest, her eyelids drooping over her sated gaze. “You know that.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me for life.”

“For life isn’t long enough.” She snuggles closer, her voice fading with sleep. “Promise me forever.”

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’VE BEEN IN
the studio all day. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and roll my shoulders. Marlon’s project is almost done. Just these last few songs. The engineers are waiting to master the files, but I can’t stop tinkering with the mix on this Otis Redding sample. Well, that’s the one I’ve been working on the last hour or so. Before that it was track number four. Before that it was track number eight. I can’t remember which track was before that, but I know my obsessive perfectionism has confined me to this one room for hours.

“Still at it?” Amber, the closest thing to a receptionist Wood has, sets my favorite energy drink down beside me. “You know what time it is?”

I pop open the can, guzzle a few swallows, and grab my phone to check the time.

Eight o’clock. Gep was supposed to drop Kai off thirty minutes ago after some photo shoot Bristol set up. Sometimes my reception back here sucks, and my phone doesn’t even ring.

“Did Gep call up front?” I scroll through my missed calls and check my text messages. Nothing.

“No.” Amber offers me a slip of paper. “This guy did call while you were in here. He claimed to be Kai’s father.”

My eyes move from the phone to Amber’s face.

“James Pearson?” I ask.

She glances at the paper before offering it to me again.

“Yep.” Her next words trip over each other in her haste. “You said to only bother you if it was Kai or an emergency, and I wasn’t even sure the guy was legit. Should I have?”

“Nah, you’re good.” What the hell does he want?

“Cool.” She gathers her tawny colored dreadlocks off her neck and into a ponytail. “Well, he left his number and asked you to call him.”

“Okay.” I rub the paper between my fingers for a second and look back up at her. “But nothing from Gep or Kai?”

“Nope. Sorry.” She shifts her backpack with one arm. “You need anything before I head out?”

I shake my head absently while I dial the number on the paper she gave me.

“Nah. G’night.” I flick my chin up at her while the phone rings on the other line.

“Hello,” a deep voice answers with just a hint of a Southern accent.

“Uh, Mr. Pearson?”

“Yes.” He seems to hesitate. “Is this Rhyson?”

“Yeah.” I lean back and prop my feet on the studio console. The guys would kill me, but just this once. “I got a message you called me here at the studio earlier.”

“Yes. I didn’t have your personal number obviously, but heard you owned this studio.” He releases a heavy breath over the line. “I wasn’t sure how to handle things, so I just thought I’d try by starting with you.”

“Handle what things?”

I keep my voice neutral even though I don’t like this man. He hurt Kai more than anyone has, except maybe me. I imagine my Kai sitting on a broken step as a little girl, wearing her tutu and ballet slippers, waiting for a father who never came home.

No, I don’t like this man at all.

“Cassie, that’s my daughter . . . my other daughter’s name,” he says. “She saw on one of those entertainment shows that you and Kai Anne got engaged.”

I don’t respond, but wait for him to reach his point.

“Well, I, uh . . .” Discomfort weights his words. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Still waiting for the point of this call.

“I’d like to be . . . well, involved somehow seeing as how I’m Kai’s father.”

Oh, now he remembers that he’s her father.

“You’ll need to talk to Kai about that,” I answer stiffly.

“Well, she’s not much for talking to me these days.” He offers a rough, rueful chuckle. “I thought maybe you could . . .”

His words fade into a pained silence that I don’t try to make any easier for him.

“I used to wonder how I’d feel on her wedding day, ya know?” he continues, regret smudging his words. “When she was a little girl, I couldn’t imagine giving her away to someone else.”

“No one gives Kai to me. She’s already mine.”

It just comes out because . . . well, because it’s true. I probably could have handled that better, said it more tactfully, but the thought of this man, absent for so long from Kai’s life, presuming to have any rights on what will be
our
day, agitates me. Tension clogs the silence between our two lines for a moment before he responds.

“A little possessive there, aren’t ya?” he half-laughs.

I’m too tired for this, and don’t bother holding back a long exhale of breath.

“Mr. Pearson, what do you want from me?”

“I know it’s Kai’s decision if I’m invited—”

“Yeah, it is,” I agree. “I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t involve you. I’m not sure she should.”

“You
are
marrying my daughter, you know,” he says softly, but not soft enough to disguise that he’s offended.

“Mr. Pearson, if Kai’s mother were alive, I would have asked for her blessing.” My voice trades weariness for irritation. “But she isn’t, so I flew to Glory Falls to ask Aunt Ruthie for
her
blessing. Then I flew her to LA so she could witness me propose to the girl she’s practically raised since you deserted Kai and her mother. You have no rights in this situation, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like you’ve been around for the last fifteen years. It’s making me sick and it’s making me angry.”

A startled silence follows my words. I draw a deep breath, suppressing the ire that rises the longer I talk to him.

“Rhyson, I can tell you love my daughter very much.”

He pauses as if waiting for me to affirm. I don’t, but just wait for him to finish.

“I had some hard choices to make back then, and I didn’t always make the right ones, but I’m living with the consequences. I’m trying to make things right.”

“The day I marry Kai will be the happiest of my life,” I say quietly. “I don’t want awkwardness. I don’t want old hurts making things less than perfect. To be frank, I’m not even sure I’ll invite my own mother. If Kai decides she’s ready for you to be involved in her life that way, I’ll support her. If she decides she’s not, I’ll support her. I just want her happy.”