Bennett
I glance at Darci perched on the bed one last time before opening our hotel room door. Emeli nestled against her chest, the soft sound of her feeding echoing through the stillness of the room. Darci’s eyes are closed softly, resting quietly as she feeds our baby girl.
It’s moments like these my heart fills with more love than I thought capable. Everyday life sidetrack by the life we created. Darci’s makeup is heavier than she normally wears, her eyes lined in black, forcing her amber colored eyes to pop. Cheeks painted artfully to highlight the line of her cheekbone. It’s unnecessary, the blush, her cheeks shade beautifully without assistance, with the help of a glance in my direction. Her hair has been styled into messy waves, her usual sleek bob disheveled in a purposeful way. She’s yet to dress, her body draped in only a fluffy hotel robe as she nurses our baby girl.
She’s stunning, more beautiful than I deserve, both inside and out, and I thank whoever the fuck will listen for bringing Darci Walker, soon-to-be James, into my life.
“I thought you were going to check on Adam and Will.” Her soft voice reaches my ears, her eyes still closed over.
Letting the door fall closed, my feet move back toward her. One eye pops open, an amused smirk playing at her red-stained lips.
“Oh, Bennett, what big eyes you have?” She giggles.
My smile grows, my hand moving to the back of her hair as soon as I reach her, bringing her face up to meet my lips. “All the better to see you with.”
My tongue lashes into her mouth without preamble and she moans, returning my needy touch with fervor. It’s so easy to escalate a simple kiss with Darci. The smallest taste is never enough. I want more. I crave more. I need more. I want to feel her over every part of my skin. I want to drown in her.
She pulls from the kiss as quickly as it started, much to my disappointment, her focus moving to the baby fussing between us, her little head working to find Darci’s nipple again.
“I get it, baby, momma’s titties are my life too.”
Darci’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of red. “Bennett,” she coughs around a laugh, helping our daughter latch on once again.
“I fucking love you, Riding Hood,” I breathe quietly, and her face softens, a palm coming up to brush along my cheek.
“I love you, too, baby.”
Pulling her hand back, her eyes fall to the ruby decorating her right hand. “God. It’s so beautiful, Bennett. I still can’t believe you bought me such an amazing gift for Valentine’s Day. My gift paled in comparison.”
I scoff. Loudly. Reminiscing about our morning’s activities; Darci waking me up with my cock in her mouth, dressed in that sinful Riding Hood lace. “Baby, money couldn’t by the heaven I woke up to this morning. Trust me.”
Pushing my chest, she shoos me away, her cheeks bright red. “Go. Check on Adam and Will.”
Leaning down, I drop a soft kiss to Emeli’s cheek before touching my lips to Darci’s.
Closing the hotel room door quietly, making sure I don’t disturb the baby, I can’t wipe the giant fucking smile painted on my face.
I’m a happy guy. A guy content with his life. Always have been. Then I found Darci and my life actually began. Any happiness I felt before Darci now just seems juvenile. Now I know what it’s supposed to feel like. It pumps through my veins and I feel consumed by it, she’s given me something I never knew I was missing.
Maybe it’s just today, maybe I’m flooded with emotion because my dads are finally getting married. But I feel on top of the world. I have everything in life I never knew I wanted.
My knuckles rap lightly on the door of my dads' suite and I’m so lost in thoughts of Darci, I almost miss Pops’ rough rasp to call me inside.
He’s standing by the large window overlooking the grounds of the hotel, hands buried in his pockets, deep in thought and I saunter over to stand beside him.
He’s a formidable man, Adam James. Simple and stoic, but there’s a gentle kindness to his eyes that pulls you in. A swagger in his smile that draws you to him.
“Ben,” he murmurs softly, turning to give me his full attention.
I move to embrace him, our hug tight, his palm coming up to squeeze the back of my neck in affection as I pull back.
“Where’s Dad?”
Readjusting the cuffs of his shirt, Pops smiles in easy humor.
“Don’t tell me the two of you are buying into the whole ‘don’t see the groom before the wedding’ bullshit?” I move to the bar, pouring us each a drink.
He laughs, taking the offered scotch and sipping it slowly. “Nah. You know Will, he’s down in the kitchen, no doubt inserting the fear of life into the caterers.”
I chuckle softly. Imagining the fiery one of my dads throwing orders at the caterers he’s employed for the evening.
“Be careful they don’t all quit before you guys are hitched.”
“That’s exactly what I said before he snuck out the door against my warning.”
We share a drink in silence, and my eyes scan his appearance for any unwarranted nervous energy. But there’s none. He’s calm as is his usual demeanor.
“You scrub up well, old man.”
He quirks a dark brow, his lips tipping up in the tease of a smile before he swallows the rest of his drink.
His wide shoulders are dressed in a crisp white shirt that’s currently covered by a white tuxedo jacket. A black bowtie sits undone and loose around the open button of his shirt. His dark hair is simply styled, and his brown eyes glimmer with a hint of schoolboy charm and excitement.
“You’re okay with us doing this, eh? Getting married? I know it’s kind of all happened out of nowhere. You know, we’ve never spoken about marriage before…”
I nod my head furiously before he finishes speaking. “Of course, I couldn’t be happier for our family right now. This, it should’ve happened a long time ago.” My voice cracks as I speak and I cough to clear the lump in my throat.
“Thank fucking God, it’d be a total bitch to cancel everything this late.”
My smile grows at the soft twang in Will’s tone and I turn to bring him into focus. He’s dressed much the same as Pops, only difference being his bowtie actually being secured neatly at his neck.
Growing up, shit, even now, people find out I have two dads and they always want to know that same thing. Which one is my real dad.
My. Real. Dad.
What a fucking joke.
People seem to think because one of them isn’t biologically linked, they had no paternal claim to me. I hate that more than the judgmental fucks, the ones that think a gay couple raising a child is wrong. At least they’re open with their stupidity.
Ignorance though, fuck, I hate the tightness in either of their smiles when someone’s misguided comment cuts them. When someone questions which of the two men that raised me could claim their rightful parentage.
Without looking at my birth certificate, I could tell you, without a doubt who matches my DNA.
You don’t have to look too hard to see mine and Adam’s similarities. The smile that transforms his face, it does the same to mine. The warm brown eyes that have looked at me with only love, support, pride… they’re mine. Our easy nature is identical, so maybe our DNA confirms we’re genetically linked, but Will, he runs through my veins.
Will was who taught me how to love. Hard. Unapologetically. With passion. He showed me how to build my dreams, the way I wanted to. Will Bennett is more than my namesake, he’s the man that taught me the right way to live. Never to settle for mediocre. Because I deserve nothing less than extraordinary. He taught me that no one is ever going to hand me the life I wanted, the life I dreamed of. He showed me the life I was going to live was the life I fought for. He also taught me the beauty and balm of a perfectly timed curse word.
He hugs me tightly, pulling back to cup both my cheeks to look at my eyes. “Missed you. You’re good? You look good. You look happy. You happy?”
I chuckle softly. “Yeah, Dad. I’m really fucking happy.”
“Good.” His face softens and he drops his hands to my shoulders to squeeze before stepping back. Clapping his hands together, his eyes survey the room. “Where’s my granddaughter and your deliciously beautiful fiancée?”
“Darc is just feeding Emeli back in our room.”
He doesn’t attempt to hide his disappointment, his shoulders deflating, a small frown playing on his lips.
“I should go check on Archer,” he declares loudly. “Check he’s okay, poor devil. I wanna make sure he’s not too nervous.”
Adam moves toward him, his large palm coming up to massage the side of his neck quickly on a squeeze as he walks past him to refill his drink. “He’s fine, Will. Archer has dealt with far more frightening situations than this one. Leave him be.”
His words are spoken softly, his rough tone mollifying with a reassuring ease and affection. A warmth only shared by two people in love, an unknowing show of support by the simple way in which his words are spoken.
Will’s blue eyes relax, his shoulders easing in the tension coiled tightly between them at Pops’ touch. I’ve always enjoyed the easy love my dads have shared. The unapologetic way in which they support and admire one another. They’ve never been ashamed or uncertain of the love they have. I appreciate, more, I respect the fucking hell outta them for that. They’ve always been true to who they are and what they want in life and if that’s not the most important lesson to teach kids about the world, I don’t know what is.
“You know,” I start, my head nodding at Adam’s silent offer for another drink. “Dickheads used to tease me when I was in school, younger years of course,” I shock them by declaring, their movements ceasing as their focus sits on me, on my words. “Would tell me I must be gay because I had two dads. That they felt sorry for me because I didn’t know what a real family was.”
They’ve always been different in how they show emotion. Will avoids eye contact, his head turning away to hide the tears forming in his eyes. Adam though, he’ll look you straight on, let you read his eyes, the expression on his face. Rarely does he cry, rarely does an emotion take over so heavily that it breaks him.
But my words have affected them, I know that, I can tell from their reactions. The water forming in both their eyes. But I keep talking, needing to get all my words out. I move closer, shaking my head to rid any anxious thought creeping into their minds, silently communicating them to keep listening.
“I knew,” I stab a finger at my chest, my eyes form tears unintentionally, and I turn my head, sniffing heavily in an attempt to keep them at bay. “I knew they were wrong. Not about me being gay, clearly, I loved girls, maybe a little too much in my younger years.” I smile, and Adam chuckles quietly as Will rolls his eyes. “More than anyone, I knew,” I continue on a shaky smile. “I had the better understanding of family, of love. I knew what real love was from the very beginning. You guys showed me that.”
Eyes water, jaws tighten at the sudden onset of emotion in the room, and I continue. “It took me a long time to find love, to find what I have with Darci. But that’s because I knew I was looking for something solid, something genuine and all-fucking-consuming. I wanted what you two have; the respect and support, the love and affection, the fire. Even after all these years, I still see it, the love you have. So I knew, all those years ago, I knew those assholes didn’t know shit. I, more than anyone else knew what a real family was, what real love was. I just wanted to say thank you. For showing me that. In a world that can sometimes be so unbelievably small-minded and at times downright fucking awful, thank you for showing me the right way to love.”
Silence echoes my declaration, and I watch them both for a beat, before clearing my throat. “I just wanted to tell you both that. You mean the world to me and being able to stand next to you both today,” my voice cracks giving away the fact that I’m crying and I rub a hand down my face, sniffing loudly. “Today is a really special moment for me,” I finish quietly.
“Get over here,” Pops demands and I move without hesitation into his embrace. He hugs me tightly, his palm clasped against my neck. Stepping back, he keeps hold of my nape, nodding his head. Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he lets go, blowing out a large breath.
“What your Pops means to say,” Will coughs, pulling me into his own embrace, “is that we’re super fucking proud of the man you are. We love you, kiddo. You’re our world.” He brushes the tears from his eyes as I pull away. “Well, you were, until Emeli was born. Now you’re second,” he shrugs. “Actually, no, we love Darci as much as we love Emeli. You’re kinda third now.”
I laugh loudly, drying the salty tears from my cheeks. “All right, well, I just wanted to check no one had done a runner,” I joke, a sly grin forming on my face. “I’m gonna head back to my girls. I’ll see you in,” I glance at my watch, “an hour.”
Taking a deep breath as their door closes behind me, I exhale heavily. Shit, I’ve been so fucking emotional since they told me they were tying the knot. I have no clue as to why, I can’t seem to control my emotions, every time the wedding has been mentioned I choke up; tears burn my eyes, my throat closes over. Maybe the world telling them no for so long pissed me off more than I realized.
Stepping through my hotel room door, I look to the bed where I left Darci, needing to lay eyes on her, but the bed is empty. The sheets have been tidied, her robe laying neatly across the white comforter. Emeli is nestled comfortably in her stroller, fast asleep and I move closer to look at her.
Fuck, it’s true what they say, you never know love until you hold your own child. Jesus, my heart could almost burst every time I look at my little beauty. She’s perfection. I contemplate picking her up but know Darci would have my head if I woke her.
The bathroom door opens, and I lift my head to watch Darci step through, adjusting the light blush dress fitted perfectly to her form.
“Hey,” she smiles, “how were Adam and Will?”
“You look beautiful,” I breathe, my eyes trailing up the tight material, devouring each of her curves in evident hunger.
Her cheeks shade, her eyes hood over and my tongue drags along the top line of my teeth, my mind running wild with every filthy thing I’d like to do to her body.
“Why, Bennett,” she purrs, “what big teeth you have.” She saunters toward me, oozing fucking sex and I groan outwardly, pulling her against my body and inhaling her sweet scent.
“All the better to eat you with, dirty girl.” My teeth bite into the smooth line of her neck and the sound she makes is eager and frantic, tender and desperate.
“Pull your dress up, Riding Hood.”
She obeys without delay, her hands moving fast to pull the tight material up her hips.
“No panties, fuck, Lady Paradox, you are tryin’ to kill me. How am I ‘spose to concentrate on my folks gettin’ hitched when I know you’re not wearin’ panties?” My hand rubs roughly at my jaw, my voice pained as I stare at her bare pussy.
Dropping her ass to the bed, her knees pull up, the balls of her feet resting on the edge of the bed frame. Her lightly painted lips part slightly, a breath of air escaping her beautiful mouth. Her eyes fixed on mine, she slides her feet outward, opening herself up to me completely.
My sweet innocent girl makes my dick hard, but bold Darci, my Riding Hood, fuck, she turns it to granite.
Dropping to my knees, I walk myself toward her, eyes trained on the part of her body my mouth is salivating for.
She’s the sweetest kind of sin and I’m fucking addicted. Legs parted, dress pushed up roughly to gift me access, she’s pure seduction.
Palms skating along the skin of her inner thigh, I lean forward, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating scent of her cunt. Fuck, she’s the most delicious form of torture. Even when I have her, it’s not enough.
Growling against her damp flesh, I drag my tongue heavily up her slit, groaning at the soft caress of her pussy against my mouth. She cries out, head flying back, arms stretching backward to arch her spine. She rocks into my mouth pleading for more and who am I to deny her? I crave to pin her down, to hold her hips in place and force her to accept the torment of my tongue. But the way she grinds against my face; unapologetically, impure and vulgar, hand twisted in my hair, pushing and begging for me. Fuck. Me.
Pushing two thick fingers into her greedy cunt, she groans loudly, and I shush her quietly. “Don’t wake the baby.” Moving my free hand from her silky thigh, I push my thumb into her mouth and she sucks it eagerly, moaning like a woman fucking possessed, her hips undulating, fucking my face with abandon.
“JESUS. FUCK.”
The rough masculine bellow cracks through the room and I pull back, Darci’s juices coating my face as she screeches, bending in on herself to cover her body.
“What the fuck is wrong with everyone today? Did I miss the face fucking memo?”
Darci grabs at the robe on the bed, covering her bottom half and I growl loudly in frustration.
“What the fuck, man?” I stand, turning on Archer. “Have you not heard of fucking knocking?”
Fingers pinched at his eyes, he shakes his head. “Your door was open, dickwad. Here’s a fuckin’ clue, thinking about eating your wife out… Close. The. Fucking. Door.”
Face bright red, Darci yanks down her dress and I wanna cry. God, she was so close, then I would’ve buried myself in the warm, wet fuckin’ heaven.
“You’re dead to me,” I scowl over at Archer, who peeks one eye open, making certain we’re decent before opening both fully.
“Sorry, Darci,” he apologizes softly. “Wouldn’a barged in if the door was closed, I didn’t realize—”
“Let’s never mention this again. Ever,” she cuts him off, wandering over to Emeli to fuss unnecessarily.
“What d’ya need, man?” I sigh in defeat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Was just gonna check somethin’ about the ceremony, make sure I don’t fuck anythin’ up. Come find me when you’re done. Wedding’s in forty-five minutes.”
I glance to Darci, then to Archer. “Give me twenty.”
“Bennett,” Darci whisper-yells, the dust of color covering her cheeks moving down her neck.
“Twenty minutes, I’ll be downstairs. Belle’s gone fuckin’ crazy on me. Cried because she chipped a fuckin’ nail and she left the paint she uses at home. Women, man. She’s sendin’ me to fuckin' crazy town.”
Walking at him, I force his feet backward, out of the room and outta sight. “Yeah, yeah, twenty minutes. I’ll find ya downstairs.”
He grumbles something inaudible, and I force a smile on my face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, jerkface,” I taunt, shutting the door on his unimpressed frown, this time making certain the fucker is locked. Save any other assholes from interrupting me.
“Now, where were we?”
Darci balks, her amber-colored eyes widening under her glasses. “Bennett, we can’t now, Archer just saw parts of my body…oh my God. I’m so embarrassed.”
Stalking toward her in large purposeful steps, I reach for her, cupping her jaw. “I can still taste your pussy on my tongue. Sweet as fuckin’ sin, and I want more. I want to feel you pulsate on my tongue, explode on my mouth and scream my name.”
Her eyes flutter closed and I know I have her. My sweet girl loves it when I talk dirty. She loves the quick-fired filthy words that push her to the brink, leaving her dangling until I help her shatter into a million pieces.
“Dress up, bend over the bed.” I pepper wet kisses up her neck, along her jawline before biting her thick bottom lip.
She chases my kiss, driving forward, eyes closed to taste my tongue. I tsk her heavily, leaning forward to brush my lips against her ear.
“Dress. Up. Bend. Over.”
She groans. Or cries. Maybe whimpers. Whatever the sound is, it’s desperate, needy and hot as fuck.
This time she concedes to my demand, her small hands pulling and yanking at the material of her dress, to pull it up as fast as she can.
Moving to her back, my palms slide along the soft expanse of skin of her caramel colored thighs. So smooth. So soft. Walking her forward, her knees hit the edge of the bed. Palm rested between her shoulder blades, I push down, forcing her body to bend.
Glancing over her shoulder, her almond-shaped eyes are glossy with fraught need. Her lips slightly agape, soft, stuttered breaths escaping with every brush of my fingers against her body.
“Fuck me, baby,” she pleads. “Please.”
“Fuck, Riding Hood. You’re coiled tight, you gonna explode around me as soon as I slam inside?”
My fingers glide along her wet heat, a feral groan ripping from my throat. “Fuck. I’m torn. I wanna taste your sweetness on my tongue but,” I growl, pushing two fingers inside her. She shudders, her back arching painfully, her ass pushing back forcing my fingers deeper inside her body.
“No,” she whimpers around a heady moan. “Cock. I want you to stretch me. Make me feel you, Bennett.”
God, will it always be like this? The rush. The high. The violent, frenzied craving we share. It’s a fucking obsession. An addiction. Still, even now, I’m infatuated with this woman. I can’t get enough. I’m a man possessed every fucking time and truth be told, I couldn’t be happier.
Fumbling with my belt, I yank open my pants, feeling I might die if I don’t feel inside her.
My cock is hard. It aches. My cut tip beading with pre-cum, eager to wet the inside of her pussy with my release.
I slam inside her without warning, her silent scream caught in her throat, her body jerking with the movement.
My head tips back, a guttural sound scratching along my vocal cords. Her soft hips held in my hands, keeping my dick buried deep within her quaking body. Ruined. That’s my last coherent thought as I roll my hips, refusing to pull out, instead thrusting forward to reach deeper inside her.
Totally. Fucking. Ruined.