Liam

 

Kensley and I are sitting across from one another at Panera on Monday afternoon, and I can’t stop looking at the black and white sonogram picture in my hand. The one that Kensley had printed out just for me.

She hadn’t been due for an ultrasound, but her doctor was really kind and because I was with her, asked if I wanted to the see the baby.

Fuck yes, I wanted to see the baby.

You could actually make out that it was a baby.

I mean, of course you could.

According to the information at the top of the picture, Kensley is exactly thirty-one weeks, and three days. That means we’ll be bringing a baby home in just about eight weeks.

“This is going to be a cute kid,” I say, still staring at my picture.

Kensley laughs and reaches across the table, pushing the picture down. “Put it away.”

“I can’t stop looking at it.”

“Later.” She’s grinning wide at me. The joy on her face is so fucking palpable. I know for a damn fact she didn’t experience this joy with Mark, and I’m so grateful she gets to with me. “Our food will be here soon.”

Sure enough, one of the runners comes out.

“Caesar salad, no Caesar dressing?”

I point to Kensley, who raises her hand a little. I take the time to fold the picture in half, and put it in my wallet, dropping the bi-fold to the table. Meanwhile, the salad is put in front of Kensley, and a loaded sandwich in front of me.

“I get you guys anything else?” the runner asks, picking up the electronic number plate.

“No, thank you,” Kensley says, as I shake my head and say the same.

Kensley picks up her fork to puncture some lettuce, then dips it in her side of ranch, as I open my bag of chips.

“Want one?” I hold the open end toward her.

She shakes her head, taking her bite.

We eat in silence for a few moments, before bringing up the morning’s activity.

“So, what I took from the lawyer was that it was okay for us to, you know.” I pick up another chip and put it in my mouth. I’m a little afraid that Kensley is going to go down the ‘wait a year’ road again.

Because the lawyer also said, while it wouldn’t hurt us, it wouldn’t necessarily help us—even though a marriage helps to show that the girls are in a loving, stable home.

We’re both hopeful that Mark won’t drag this custody threat out, that we’ll all be able to come up with some sort of mutual agreement, but seeing as Mark hasn’t even made contact, Kensley and I both agreed it was a good idea to put a lawyer on retainer.

“Yep,” is Kensley’s answer, as she keeps looking down at her salad bowl, forking another bit of lettuce and cheese.

I grab a napkin and wipe at my hands. “What are you thinking?”

She sighs, still picking around at her salad, but drop her fork against the giant bowl. “I’d like to talk to Sharon.”

I nod, understanding. She has a mother-daughter relationship with Mark’s mother, and it’s only natural that she’d want to talk to her.

However…

“Where are your parents, Kensley?”

She looks across the table at me, studying me, before she speaks. It’s as if she’s debating telling me the truth or not. “They weren’t very thrilled to be spending a shit-ton of money on my UCLA classes, only for me to get pregnant. They essentially disowned me.”

“You haven’t…” I’m trying to wrap my head around this. “You haven’t talked to them in four years?”

“Almost five.”

“Shit, Kens.” I let that sink in for a moment before asking, “Would you want to talk to them? See them?”

She casts her eyes down at her bowl again, shrugging. “Probably.”

I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine and squeezing until she looks up at me. “If you want to, we can do that. I’ll go with you. If you want.”

Her smile is small, but I feel like I said the right thing. “Okay. Maybe. Sure. Yeah. We can plan that.” She flips her hand under mine so we’re palm to palm. “Tell me more about your family. I met Mae…”

“Our parents actually decided to move to the middle of nowhere, and left San Diego. They’re proud hobby farmers in northern Wisconsin.”

“Really?” Her smile is disbelieving.

“Really.” I nod and, without dropping her hand, grab my phone from the back of my jeans. One handed, I pull open my photo album and quickly scroll to last Christmas. Setting the phone on the table, I spin it to face her. “They make us do the whole white Christmas thing,” I say, explaining the picture in front of her. It’s the six of us—mom, dad, Mae, JR, Josh, and me—huddled in front of their small barn. It’s decked out in white lights and the evergreen that’s planted right outside is decorated. “That’s a popcorn string on the tree. Mom went all old-school.”

“Who’s next to Mae?”

“That’s JR, her husband. He’s military.”

“Josh looks like him.”

I chuckle and reach for the phone. “Yeah, he does.” I flip to another picture.

“Is that a donkey?”

Grinning, I nod. “Sure is. They have two donkeys, a miniature pony, and more chickens than I would know what to do with.”

“That sounds fun.”

“They love it.”

“If we do this marrying thing…” Kensley looks up from the phone. “Will we try to get everyone here?”

“Well, we wouldn’t have time for a big deal right now. And Kens, you deserve that. God, do you deserve that.”

Kensley shakes her head. “I’ve never really thought of a big wedding. But maybe we could have a party later, get everyone together…”

I nod. “Absolutely. So… You’re game. You want to do this?”

She’s smiling at me now, full and wide and bright. “Yeah. I do.”

 

*   *   *

 

Before we pick up the girls, we go down to get our marriage license. When Kensley signs her post-marriage name of Kensley Ann Hardt, my heart literally rolls over in my chest.

This is happening.

While technically we can get married right away, Kensley wants to talk everything over with Sharon, and I respect that.

Then, because we still have two hours before Sharon’s expecting us, we head back to the house for our…

Nap.

It’s only when Kensley is laying on her side and I’m reaching over her to grab a condom from the nightstand, that she stops me, her hand to my forearm.

“You know I can’t get pregnant,” she jokes, and I can’t help but grin down at her, purposely dragging my eyes down to her large belly.

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“I,” she starts then takes a deep breath. “You also know I’ve only ever been with Mark. After everything came out, I made sure he didn’t…you know…give me anything.”

I drop my hand to the bed, towering over her with my cock pressing into her ass. “You want me bare, Kens?”

“Do you want to take me bare?” Her brows are lifted; I love her kind of challenge.

“Fuck yes.” I don’t need any other direction. In seconds, I’m back on my side, an arm under her neck and holding her close, with my other moving so I can guide her leg over mine.

And then I’m in her wet heat, her body consuming me. Her walls slick and warm and gently pulsing at my quick intrusion. “Shit, Kens,” I groan, pressing my head to her shoulder.

She wiggles in the bed, trying to tip her hips back toward me. We’ve been doing the spoon thing for the last week, and it hasn’t gotten old.

Not with the way she wiggles her hips.

Or the way she can quickly come with an easy squeeze of one of her nipples.

She’s still so fucking responsive.

However, because we don’t get many of these moments, I want to make this last for her, and for me. I want to imprint the feel of her against my bare cock; I want to take the feeling and hold on to it.

So, I refrain from using Kensley’s pleasure points to the point of sending her over the edge. That is, until I’m ready to blow my balls.

After, I help her shower, where absolutely no adult play happens.

None.

At all.

Okay, that’s a blatant lie.

There’s something about being in the shower that always has Kensley dropping to her knees—which is quite the accomplishment and while I’m super fucking selfish in these moments, I do wish she’d stop. One of these days, she’s going to go down and I’m not going to be able to help her back up.

Nah.

I’d always be able to.

I have a hand braced on the shower wall behind Kensley and another on her head. She’s pressing my hard cock up against my belly while her tongue dances along the base. It’s when she sucks a ball into her mouth that I know I’m close to coming again.

When my cock jumps against her hand, I can feel her smile around her sucking and rolling.

“Kensley.”

“Hmm.” The vibrations are…

Fuck.

She releases my sac with a pop then drags the flat of her tongue slowly up the thick, full vein on the underside of my shaft, then she’s doing that fucking thing that she knows is going to make me come, teasing the tip of her tongue over the frenulum under the head of my cock and—

I grasp for the shower curtain, squeezing my ass cheeks to try and keep from coming.

“Fuck, Kens. So fucking good. So fucking good, baby.” I drop my chin to my chest, fighting the need to close my eyes and just feel, and needing to watch her take pleasure in giving it.

Her tongue does another quick tease before I watch her lips move in for a small, sucking kiss. Then, she’s lifting up on her knees and taking me deep…deep into her mouth.

And sucking hard on her way back.

“Fuck!” There’s no stopping it.

My cock is jerking and my cum is pulsing out, hard spurts into the back of Kensley’s throat. I’m coming so fucking hard into her mouth that I don’t realize…

Crash!

“Fuck!” I yell as I jump, and Kensley jerks back.

I pulled the fucking shower curtain down.

And then Kensley’s laughing so fucking hard, like it’s the funniest shit on the planet, and I can’t help but join her because yeah.

It’s pretty fucking funny.

*   *   *

 

I haven’t officially met Sharon yet, so I’m a little nervous.

I’ve talked to her briefly on the phone—occasionally she’d call Kensley’s phone and depending on what she was doing, Kensley would have me answer it—but when it came to the pick-up and drop-off of the girls, that’s all Kensley.

“You sure this is a good idea?” I ask, maneuvering the SUV into Sharon and Paul’s driveway.

Kensley drops her hand on top of mine, still resting on the gear shift. “Yes. I am.”

I park where she tells me to, as she explains that Paul may come home and will need access to the garage. She lets me open her door and help her out of the SUV, holding my hand as we move toward the house. There’s no ringing of the doorbell, no knocking on the door; no, Kensley just walks right in.

I can hear sounds coming from somewhere in the house, but here in the living room is quiet and empty.

“The girls may be napping,” Kensley explains.

I frown. “Do you lift the girls every time you pick them up, Kensley?”

She just gives me a sassy grin, doesn’t even answer. I can hear her answer though—she’s pregnant, not an invalid.

But hell, I can’t help but want her to be safe in her pregnancy.

She brings me to the kitchen, where a woman—Sharon, I assume—is pulling a tray from the oven.

“Hey, we’re here,” Kensley announces.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” Sharon doesn’t look at us as she turns, placing the hot tray on a lifted cooling pad. Then, she’s pulling off her mitt and finally, looking over at us.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting from her, but the giant smile when her eyes land on me wasn’t necessarily it. I mean, I’m her kind-of-ex-daughter-in-law’s boyfriend.

“You must be Liam.”

Kensley squeezes my hand. I go to offer my hand to shake, saying, “Yes, I am,” but Sharon steps in and gives me a one-armed hug.

One-armed only because she’s using her other hand to squeeze Kensley’s free hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you. The girls talk about you all the time.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I answer, bringing my arm around her shoulders to hug her back. A part of me feels like this should be weird—this is Mark’s mom. But knowing Kensley’s relationship with her…maybe that’s why it’s not awkward.

“We wanted to talk to you before bringing the girls home,” Kensley says then.

Sharon steps back and shoos her hands at us. “Sit. Sit. Have a cookie.”

Kensley pulls me to the breakfast bar and I pull a stool back for her, placing a foot on the bottom rung and keeping my hand in hers as she maneuvers herself carefully up into the chair. When she’s good, I sit in the one beside her, and when I look over at Sharon, I see her watching us with tears in her eyes.

Now, I’m uncomfortable.

But Sharon just wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. “My goodness, you two remind me of Paul and me. Here,” she pushes two dessert plates at us, each with an oven-fresh cookie. “Eat them while they’re warm. They’re best that way.”

“Thank you,” I say, as Kensley reaches for the plates and finishes pulling them toward us.

Sharon walks to a door—pantry—and pull out a mini ladder. I’m confused as I watch her, but she pops it open and uses it as a seat on the other side of the bar. “What did you two want to talk about?”

Kensley shifts, and I can feel she’s finally nervous.

On the ride over, she kept saying she wanted to be the one to tell her, but I honestly hadn’t been sure she’d be able to. I reach for her hand again.

I’d say it, but knowing Kensley and her mood swings…

That was a joke.

I squeeze her hand in support, and she smiles at me. I can physically feel her anxiety dissipate.

“I want to marry Liam,” she says. “We have the license, but I didn’t want to finalize anything until I talked to you.” Her voice is started to become rushed. “I love you, Sharon, and you and Paul are a very important part of mine and the girls’ lives. I know the current situation is less than ideal, but I hope you don’t ever distance yourself. At least, from the girls. I would understand if you were hurt or angry with me, but—”

“Now, listen to me, Kensley Ann,” Sharon says, a motherly frown on her face—one that isn’t much different from one that I’ve seen Kensley wear a time or two. “You may not be my daughter, but I have known you since you were a girl. I love you, Kensley, and I love my grandbabies. I will never hold your choices against you. You do what’s right in your heart, honey. I know my Mark was not good to you. I told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’m disappointed in him but never, never with you. Mark did not treat you well, I know, Kensley dear. I know. And I don’t think I’ve seen you as happy with him, as I see you with Liam right now.”

Kensley’s hand is trembling in mine, and when I look over, I see her frantically mopping at her face with her other hand. I can’t help myself; I lift our joined hands to I can kiss the back of her hand.

“You two are too sweet.” Sharon reaches over the counter to tap my hand. “I like you, Liam, and I like what you’re doing for my Kensley and my girls. Just don’t keep them from me.” I glance at her, hearing the threat…

And realize she’s joking with me.

I grin and point at her. “You almost got me.”

Sharon openly laughs, clapping her hands once. “Now, you two eat those cookies. I’ll bag some up for you to bring home with you.”