FALLING IN(15)

“A boy?” I ask, and push the button on the bed to sit up.

Layla leans over and places my son in my arms. Just as the tears of joy start to fall, Saint walks in the door. He hands Layla her water and comes to my side.

“I already called and had them schedule my vasectomy. No way can I go through that shit again, Mama.” he says, and kisses me all over my face.

When he pulls back he looks down at our baby boy and then back at me, with the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. He was right and he knows it, but damn him if I’ll ever give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“We didn’t have a boy’s name picked out.” I say, while touching our son’s sweet face.

“I’ve always liked Anthony, you know, like the saint.”

“Perfect.”

I lean up and kiss my husband, my love, my world. Now I’ve got two saints to watch over me.



Approximately eight years later…

“You gonna go over and take care of that situation or not?”

“Chill, Carter. Just watch.”

Carter and I have all the kids on our own today. We decided to take them to the park and just let them run wild while our wives have the day to themselves.

Our eldest daughter, Erin, had been playing on the swings for a few minutes before another kid tried to push her off. I want to see how this situation plays out before I step in. If I know my girl the way I think I do, this won’t take long.

I see the kid go over three times and try to push her off the swing. Each time, Erin stops and calmly asks him to wait his turn. The fourth time the kid tries to knock her off, I see the switch flip. My mini-mama comes to life. Erin stops the swing, gets off, and walks up to the kid.

“Oh, shit,” I say, and then it happens. Erin pulls back and lays a punch right on the kid’s mouth. He didn’t even see it coming.

“Looks like you get to go have a kid-parent conference,” Carter says, motioning to the crying kid as he runs to his mom.

I sigh and shake my head. “Not the first time and I have a suspicious feeling it won’t be the last.”



Some time later...

“Mama, if you don’t get your pretty ass in this house and change out of that skirt, I am going to lose my shit.”

“Language!”

“Let the neighbors hear it. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Jesus, Saint! Today is my fortieth birthday. Let it go.”

“I don’t care if it is your birthday. You don’t get to show that much skin.”

Jeanette slowly walks over and pats me on the side of my face. She gives me the look she gives the kids when they’re being ridiculous. I don’t like this look one fucking bit.

“The kids are with Lays and Carter for the night. Don’t ruin my fun.” With that statement, she turns around and struts her micro-skirt out to the truck and opens the driver door. She looks at me over her shoulder, and with a long, exaggerated wink, slowly gets in the truck, revealing she isn’t wearing any panties.

My jaw drops but she doesn’t miss a beat. She cranks up the truck and puts it in reverse, pulling out of the driveway before I even have a split second to react.

“Motherfucker. She did not just leave.”

She did.

I look around like I can’t believe what I’m seeing. After a second I snap out of my shock and go into the house, grab the keys to my motorcycle, and run out the door. Oh, she’s just begging for it tonight.



Anthony and Mary… their 21st birthday

“Please, Tony, I’ve been patient, I can’t wait anymore.”

“I told you, princess. When you agree to be my wife I’ll give you the real thing.”

I slide against her folds but don’t enter her. This is what we do every time we have more than thirty seconds alone. I pull my cock out, she pulls her panties to the side and we mimic fucking. I won’t take her virginity—our virginities—until she agrees to be my wife, and damn if she isn’t the most stubborn woman on the planet.

“Tony, it’s my birthday, please,” she whines, but I just smile.

“You forget it’s my birthday too, princess.” I smile and keep sliding against her. I know she wants to cum, and she’s so close, but I’ve got the patience of a saint and I intend to use it to my advantage.

“I told you I would three years ago!”

“But you wouldn’t let me tell your dad, so it didn’t count. I want you to agree to be my wife, wear my ring, and tell the world. I’m not keeping it secret. I’m not ashamed of you or of us, or afraid of what your parents will think.”

Mary moans and grinds down harder on me. “I’m not ashamed; I just don’t want my dad thinking we have sex. Can you imagine?”