Seven Years Later…

Anne carries the baby for me as we walk out onto the dock to meet the boat. Cash pulls the speedboat next to the fixed ladder on the side of the covered dock. As he secures the boat to the pylon, Di reaches for the handrails on the aluminum ladder.

“No, sweetie. You have to wait for Daddy to help you up,” I remind her.

“I caught a fish, Mommy!” she exclaims in her munchkin voice.

“Really? I’m so proud of you, baby. I can’t wait to see your fish!”

Cash finishes securing the boat, then he lifts Di as she climbs up the ladder to the dock. I help her up the final rung and tug her a few feet away from the ladder so Cash and Jacob can climb up.

After almost seven years of being in remission, my father’s cancer returned about four months ago. And this time it’s much more aggressive. He vowed never to do chemo again after the lifesaving experimental drug treatment that saved him, so he could walk me down the aisle.

My father was there when Diamond — Princess Di, as Cash calls her — was born five years ago. He was there when baby Ace was born ten months ago. But I don’t think he’ll be here for the birth of his third and final grandchild in seven months. It’s crazy to think I got pregnant one month after my dad’s diagnosis and just seven months after giving birth to Ace. All so I could give my dad a reason to fight for his life again.

Well, not all for that. I do very much enjoy being spoiled by Cash when I’m pregnant. He’s already agreed that if this next child is a boy, his middle name will be Kurt.

Jacob ascends the ladder after Di, then he and Cash help my dad up.

My dad flashes me a weak smile when he sees me. “It’s a beautiful day on the lake, sweetheart,” he says, his voice raspy from the vocal cord polyps, which have developed from all the coughing fits.

I loop my arm through his. “It’s always a beautiful day when you’re here, Dad.”

The mood is solemn as we head back toward the house. Since Cash and I bought the house in Zephyr Cove on Lake Tahoe, our home has become a hub for family get-togethers. And Thanksgiving on the lake is one of my favorite times of year. With a lake that never freezes over and a light smattering of snow on the ground, it makes for great snowball fights and perfect conditions for trout fishing.

I get my father settled in the guest bedroom with his TV remote, a hot mug of apple cider, and a Dilaudid tablet set out on the nightstand. “Do you need anything else, Dad?”

He smiles as he pats the edge of the bed. “Have a seat, sweetheart.”

My smile vanishes as I take a seat next to him, anticipating what he could possibly want to talk about. “What’s up?”

“You know how proud I am of you, don’t you?”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. “Of course. You tell me all the time.”

He continues smiling as he grabs my hand. “I just want you to know that getting laid off from Union Oil and even getting this damn cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Don’t say that, Dad,” I plead with him. “Please don’t say that.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the truth, because now I can die knowing my baby girl’s going to be taken care of. There’s nothing more a father could ask for. And I want you to know that before I go. I don’t want you to ever blame anyone for what happened to me, okay? Because I’ve lived my life and I get to die happy and comfortable. What more could a man want?”

I want to argue with him. I want to tell him that a man can ask for more time. But I’ve already decided I’m not going to argue with my father in his final days on this cruel earth. No matter how much I want to shake him and tell him to fight. I know he’s been fighting for too long. It’s not fair for me to make him feel guilty for being at peace with his imminent death.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper through my tears as I wrap my arms around him.

“I love you most,” he replies, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I won’t be able to volunteer at any more of those Gamblers Anonymous meetings. You’ll have to go to next week’s meeting without me. Is that okay?”

I try not to interpret this as his way of telling me he doesn’t expect to be alive long enough to make it to next week’s meeting, but I force a smile and kiss his forehead as I stand from the bed. “Of course. They’ll understand.”

I freshen up my face in the downstairs bathroom, then I head back to the kitchen to help Anne and Jacob with Thanksgiving dinner. Anne insisted on bringing everything but the turkey this year, claiming I had too much to worry about with my father and the kids on top of the new pregnancy.

I can always count on her to ease my burdens when life gets hectic. I’ve told her many times before, and I’m sure I’ll continue telling her this for many years to come, Anne is as much my mother as my biological mother. I thank God for her and Jacob and Cash every day.

“Are you looking for the meat thermometer?” Jacob asks as I rummage through a drawer of large cooking utensils. “Here you go. I used it to check Cash’s rectal temperature.”

Anne gasps and smacks her husband’s arm. “Don’t be crude.”

Jacob rubs his arm as he holds the thermometer out for me. “What? I promise I washed it.”

I laugh as Anne rolls her eyes. “Thank you,” I remark, taking the thermometer and heading for the oven. “The turkey could probably use a bit of extra seasoning. Cash always complains my Thanksgiving turkey isn’t salty enough.”

Anne casts me an are-you-kidding-me expression. “Really, you two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I pull the probe out of the turkey thigh. “It needs at least another hour,” I say, setting the thermometer on the kitchen island.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see a text from Cash, who’s supposed to be giving Di a bath to wash away the fish smell.

I laugh and shake my head as I turn to Anne. “Do you need anything? Cash is putting Di down for a nap, so I’m going to take one, too. Gotta get those Z’s whenever I can.”

Jacob and Anne smile as they flash each other a knowing glance.

“Go ahead, dear,” Anne insists, snatching the meat thermometer off the island. “I’ll give this another good scrubbing.”

I laugh as I race up the stairs and into the second bedroom on the left. Di’s bedroom is decorated in delicate pink and ivory furnishings and every possible luxury a princess could want. When I step inside, Cash is brushing Di’s soft brown hair out of her face so he can kiss her forehead.

“Sleep tight, princess,” he murmurs. “Mommy will wake you up when it’s time to eat, okay?”

I shake my head as Di nods. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” I whisper, blowing her a kiss as Cash and I exit the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open a few inches, the way she likes it.

Cash grabs my hand and pulls me across the hallway and into the master bedroom. I close the door softly behind me and I don’t even have time to turn around before he seizes me in his arms.

“Lock the door,” he murmurs in my ear as he pulls my ass flush against the growing erection in his jeans. “How long do you think we have? I texted Hector and Dex to tell them they can come in and eat in ninety minutes.”

“We have maybe fifteen or twenty minutes,” I reply, gasping as his hand slides down the front of my fleece leggings and inside my panties. “I have to go down and check on the turkey in about a half an hour.”

He slides a finger inside me to see if I’m wet, then he pulls his hand out of my pants and scoops me up in his arms to carry me to the bed. Setting me down gently, I follow his lead and undress hastily. Then, I scoot back on the bed as he eyes me like a tiger stalking its prey.

He spreads my legs and lies down with his face between my thighs. “I’m just going to check if this turkey’s ready,” he says, sliding a finger inside me again. “Uh-oh, time to call the Butterball hotline.”

I shake my head. “Is that a request for me to butter your balls while I check on the doneness of your meat?”

“Okay, I think the turkey puns are getting out of hand. I just want to fuck.”

I start to laugh, but I quickly stop when his mouth lands on my clit. “Oh, God.”

His free hand slides up to tug my nipple as he devours me. “Damn, baby, I can taste your pregnancy hormones.”

“We’ve already Googled this. You can’t taste hormones,” I reply.

He slides his tongue inside me and I moan as he fucks me with it. “You definitely taste different when you’re pregnant. I don’t give a fuck what Google says.”

“Different as in worse?” I ask tentatively.

“Fuck no,” he replies, sliding his tongue along my slit from hole to clit. “I love the way you taste when you’re pregnant. If you let me, I’d eat this pussy three times a day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

I grip the duvet beneath me as he swirls his tongue around my swollen bud. “Oh, my God. I’m gonna come.”

He slides a finger inside me, the way he usually does whenever I’m about to come, so he can feel my walls clenching uncontrollably. As the orgasm sizzles through me and explodes between my legs, he moans enthusiastically as he licks up my cum.

Kissing his way up my body, his mouth lingers on my swollen breasts, sucking and caressing until I’m writhing beneath him again. “You want me to fuck you hard?”

I nod eagerly, aware that as I get further along in my pregnancy, rough sex will become more difficult.

He turns me over abruptly and presses the side of my head into the mattress as his other hand guides his cock inside me. I whimper and he moves his hand off my head, so he can wrap his arm around me and lift me up onto all fours. I let out a high-pitched whine as he thrusts all the way into me.

He quickly covers my mouth with one hand as he other hand tangles in my hair and yanks my head back. He slams into me from behind like a train going full speed, his skin smacking against mine as his cock pounds me so hard I think he might actually break me in half this time, and I would have zero regrets. His hand muffles my moans as his sac thumps against my sensitive clit with every thrust, bringing me full tilt toward another orgasm.

“Harder,” I mutter through the tiny spaces between his fingers. “Fuck me harder.”

He lets go of my mouth so he can grab my breast, but his other hand maintains a firm grasp on my hair, using it like reins to tame me. Just when I think it might be too much, he pounds me even harder and a shuddering orgasm takes hold of me. I let out a loud gasp, then I clamp my own hand over my mouth.

He laughs out loud while slowly his pace as his cock begins to twitch and spurt hot cum inside me. “Not bad,” he says, smacking my ass as he leans over to plant a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Two orgasms in, what, ten minutes? I might have to keep you pregnant for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, hell no,” I reply, too tired to even think about having another kid.

He turns me over and drapes his sweaty body over mine as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m not going to Chad this year. I’m thinking of donating my Collectric shares to Kevin so I can start working on something else. What do you think?”

“Really?” I reply, tracing my finger over his bottom lip. “But you love that project.”

After the Westbrook Oil board of directors decided not to kick Cash to the curb seven years ago, he sold his stock in Westbrook Oil and invested most of it into Collectric. Since then, twice a year, he travels to Chad with Kevin Massey for a few weeks to oversee the power grid construction efforts. When the project began six years ago, more than ninety percent of Chad’s population was living without power. The new clean power grid should be fully deployed in another eight and a half years, providing power to over eleven million Chad residents, or roughly seventy-five percent of those who were living in the dark.

He nods as he traces his finger down my chin, across the hollow of my throat, and between my breasts. “I trust Kevin to see it through to the end. I’ve done my part. I have to move onto other things. So what do you think?”

I coil my legs and arms around him and squeeze tightly. “I think I really hope your next project doesn’t take you away from home. I miss you when you’re away. Di misses you even more.”

He kisses my neck as his hand slides down my ribs and lands on the small of my back. “I told you I’m never leaving your side.”

I smile as his hand caresses my butt. “Ride or die until we’re the retirees raiding the buffet?”

He laughs. “Ride or die, baby.”

If you enjoyed Cash, you can preorder , another stand-alone Power Players novel releasing in 2019!

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