CHAPTER FOUR
DEAN
AS THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS ROLL AROUND, more baby gifts arrive at our front door and are organized in the corner of the living room—blankets, a fancy diaper bag, photo frames, mobiles, children’s books, baby toys, and clothes. Liv spends most of winter break clearing out drawers and shelves to store the baby’s things. One of her friends gives us a contraption which apparently doubles as either a playpen or crib, and Liv has already set it up in a corner of the bedroom.
When I come out of my office one afternoon, she’s sitting on the floor in front of the bookshelf, arranging the numerous board books and picture books we’ve been given.
I sit beside her and pick up Goodnight Moon. “Would you believe I had this when I was a kid?”
Liv smiles. “Wow. It’s older than the Bible, huh?”
I tweak her nose. “I believe classic is the preferred term.”
I leaf through some of the other books. Most of them have rhythmic, musical language. I try to imagine reading the words aloud, holding a baby in one arm and a book in the other. It’s still not an image that comes easily, maybe because none of my feelings about fatherhood are easy. Then again, the best parts of my life have also always been the most challenging. I put my hand on Liv’s belly.
“To the side a little.” She places her hand over mine. The baby shifts and moves. “It’s kind of rolling now more than kicking.”
I follow the motions for a few minutes. Awed.
I get to my feet and reach down to help Liv stand. We’ve been taking regular walks together, as a replacement for the hikes we used to take on weekends. We shrug into our coats and head outside into the unseasonably warm December day. The light snowfalls we’ve had so far haven’t stuck yet, and the streets are clear of ice. We walk along one of the lakeside paths, where a lone sailboat dots the still-unfrozen water. The sun glints off the bare trees forking upward into the clear blue sky.
Liv and I sit at a picnic table by the lake, tucking our hands into the pockets of our coats. She watches the sailboat. I watch her.
Her long hair, several strands escaping her ponytail, drifts around her face. The extra pregnancy weight has rounded out her features, which combined with her thick-lashed brown eyes makes her look kind of doll-like. I let my gaze travel down her neck to the V of her open coat and the swell of her breasts beneath her ruffled blouse.
My cock twitches.
Damn.
I force my gaze away from Liv and look out at the water. Even though the no-sex thing was my idea, I don’t want her to think it’s tough on me. We’ve had days of self-imposed abstinence before, but always at Liv’s insistence.
The summer after we first met, she booked us for a week-long stay at a Maine bed-and-breakfast. We both had visions of long drives in the countryside, sailing, eating fresh lobster, lots of sex. But when we discovered that the bed-and-breakfast was a rickety Victorian house run by a little old lady, and that we were the only guests, Liv balked at the sex part.
Really.
“This will be your room.” Mrs. Beechworth led us up the creaking stairs and opened the door of a second-floor room with a flourish. She was a tiny woman with sensible black shoes, a floral dress, and graying hair pulled back into a bun. She looked like she belonged in a black-and-white movie playing the part of the town’s postmistress.
“This is lovely, thank you.” Liv dropped her bag on a chair.
It was a nice room with an iron-framed bed, lace curtains, oak furniture, and a woven rug covering the uneven hardwood floor. Mrs. Beechworth walked around showing us the wardrobe and the adjoining bathroom (the size of a closet), telling us breakfast was served at seven and to be sure and have dinner one night at a restaurant called The Crabby Clam.
After Mrs. Beechworth made her way back down the stairs, Liv bustled around unpacking her bag and opening the windows.
I sat on the edge of the bed and tested the springs. They creaked loudly, like an engine needing to be oiled. Liv turned from the window to look at me.
“We’ll make it work,” I said, shaking the bed experimentally a few more times.
“Dean, we are not having sex in that bed.”
“What, you want to try the window-seat instead?” That sounded promising.
“What if Mrs. Beechworth hears us?” Liv whispered. She sat beside me and bounced up and down. The springs protested with a screech.
“Liv, the woman must be ninety years old. I’m sure she’s had sex sometime in the last century. In fact, I know she has.”
“Dean!”
“What, you think it would shock her to hear us?”
“Of course it would,” she said. “I swear these walls are paper-thin.”
“Nah. Houses like this were built rock-solid. You can’t hear anything through these walls.”
“Oh, yeah? Listen.”
We both fell silent, only to hear Mrs. Beechworth’s wavery voice drifting through one of the vents from the kitchen. She was apparently talking on the telephone.
Liv pinched my arm. “See?”
“We can be quiet,” I said. “At least, I can. You’d have some trouble with that.”
She glared at me. I grinned. I loved the sound of her gasping little cries that built into shrieks as her arousal grew. Yeah, so neither of us was much for being quiet during sex. Just one of the reasons it was so awesome.
“So, what, we’re not having sex for the rest of the week?” I asked.
“Not if Mrs. Beechworth is in the house,” Liv said. “And not if she’s not, either. What if she comes back while we’re doing it and knocks on the door to tell us tea is served?”
“We’ll tell her we’ll be down in a minute. Or eighty.”
“Dean.” She looked stern.
“Aw, come on, beauty. This is supposed to be a romantic vacation, right? What’s romance without hot sex?”
“You could try to woo me, you know.” Liv pushed away from the bed and went to the dresser. She peered at herself in the mirror and brushed her long hair. “Actually this might be good for us, now that I think about it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t think about it.”
“I’m serious. We can just enjoy each other’s company without sex getting in the way.”
Now it was my turn to glare. “You think sex gets in the way? Of what?”
She turned from the dresser and gave me a very sweet look intended to melt some of my irritation.
“I just mean that it’ll be an experiment to see how we do without it, that’s all,” she said. “We’ll have fun and avoid shocking our nice proprietor.”
I must have still looked annoyed because she approached and put her hands on my shoulders, then insinuated herself between my thighs. Her breasts were level with my face.
“If you’re trying to get my mind off sex, this isn’t the way to do it,” I remarked, curving my hands around to her round ass.
She dropped a kiss on the top of my head and pulled away. “Let’s go find out about the lobster boats. I also want to see if there are any tide pools around. I love tide pools. Mrs. Beechworth has a bunch of brochures in the foyer.”
She grabbed her satchel and headed out the door. A minute later, I heard her talking with Mrs. Beechworth in the kitchen. Resigned, I shoved off the bed and followed her downstairs.
With Liv’s planning, we did have a great week. We went boating, hiking, kayaking, whale watching, fishing. We ate a ton of seafood, visited local museums and aquariums, drove into the countryside.
We had no sex. A few times I tried to feel Liv up when we were lying in the wobbly old bed, but she gave me a glower cold enough to wither my burgeoning erection.
“Did you know Mrs. Beechworth’s bedroom is right below ours?” she hissed.
“I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
“You are not capable of being quiet during sex.”
“What if we go into the bathroom?” Even I wasn’t sure we could both fit into the tiny bathroom, let alone get into any kind of good-sex position, but I was more than willing to give it a shot.
Liv shifted around and propped herself onto one elbow to look at me. A shaft of moonlight slanted across the bed and shone on her pretty, dark hair. It said something that even though I was aching to bury myself deep inside her, in that instant I was struck by how much I just liked her. I knew by then that I loved her, but over the course of the last ten months, she’d become my best friend. Even if she did issue draconian decrees.
“Dean,” she said. “I promise you when we get home I’ll get naked before we even unpack and you can have your way with me however you want. Okay?”
Fuck. My erection sprang back to life.
“Uh, yeah. Okay.”
She nodded, as if satisfied the issue was resolved, then flopped back over to go to sleep. I sneaked my hand beneath the waistband of my pajama pants and grasped my cock.
“Don’t do it.” Liv’s voice drifted back to me. “I don’t want Mrs. Beechworth to be horrified when she changes the sheets.”
I groaned and unclenched my fingers from my shaft. “You’re a pain in the ass, Olivia.”
“Uh huh. Just remember what I said. Your way with me. However you want.”
That promise got me through the rest of the week, and by the time we got home, even Liv acknowledged she was ready for some action. True to her word, she dropped her bag on the living room sofa and stripped. We spent the next two hours fucking like rabbits and then ordered out for pizza. Totally worth the wait.
Then again, everything about Liv is always worth the wait.
I glance at her round stomach. She’s resting one of her hands on the top curve. She does that a lot these days. I’m not even sure she realizes it.
She glances at me and smiles. Her cheeks are pink with cold. It was the fall after our Maine vacation when I saw her with two toddlers at the zoo and knew—in the span of a heartbeat—that she would be an amazing mother one day. For years, that unbreakable truth has lived right in the center of my soul.
I stand and reach for my wife’s hand to help her to her feet. She curls her fingers into mine as we walk back toward the car.
By the time the year comes to an end, Liv and I have gone for several weeks without sex. I’d thought it would be easy—really, Liv’s well-being and sense of calm are all that matter right now—but frankly the woman turns me on. She complains a lot now about being warm, and at home she walks around in shorts that show off her legs and T-shirts that can’t hide her tits, and then there are all those curves and hollows… I often catch myself staring at her as she walks across the room.
Wishing I could haul her onto my lap and let her ride my cock.
Just the thought makes me hard. I’ve spent a lot of time imagining all the things I want to do to her. I suspect Liv knows this considering how long it takes me to shower these days, but she hasn’t mentioned it… or offered to help.
I haven’t asked either. I know where it would lead, and that’s not a place Liv wants to go. Awesome as it is.
I run a lot. First thing in the morning, then again after I hit the gym. I’m doing a few rounds on the heavy bag one afternoon when Kelsey strides up to me in her tank-top and exercise shorts, a towel slung around her neck.
“What’s going on?” she asks, nodding to my gloved hands. “Third time this week you’ve pounded that bag like it’s your mortal enemy.” She frowns, her eyes narrowing. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Liv’s okay?”
“Sure.” Jab, cross, hook. “You’ve seen her. She’s great.”
Kelsey folds her arms and stares me down. Even behind her glasses, the woman’s gaze is a laser beam slicing me in two.
I hold up my hands and back off before she starts guessing.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “First-time parent nerves.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m calling Liv tonight.”
“Be prepared to hear about her acid reflux.” I figure a long telephone conversation between them will give me extra time in the shower. “I’m running home.”
I leave my duffle bag in my locker and run a well-worn mountain path that leads to a quiet, residential neighborhood near Avalon Street. I jog a few blocks along one of the back streets, then slow to a walk as I approach our apartment.
Liv is on the living room floor, twisting and turning along with a prenatal yoga video.
“Hey.” She bends forward, presenting me with the sight of her gorgeous, round ass, the fabric of her pants stretched tight across it. “How was the gym?”
“Fine. Saw Kelsey. She’s calling you tonight.”
“Good. I wanted to see if she’s available for lunch sometime this week.” She rolls into another position and spreads her legs.
I head for the shower.
By the time I emerge, Liv is in the kitchen cooking dinner. I pour a couple fingers of scotch. The burn feels good going down.
Liv has made spaghetti and meatballs, both of which are excellent. I love that she’s not only learned how to cook, but that she takes such pride in it. She’s eating less now than she did earlier in the pregnancy, but enjoying the food just as much.
I clean the kitchen after dinner, then go into my office to work on my book while Liv watches a couple of sitcoms. She’s on the phone with Kelsey by the time I’m done, and because I’m beat after all that working out, I read for half an hour before falling asleep. I’ve always slept well, deep and dreamless, and it takes a lot to wake me up.
“Dean?” Liv’s voice. “Dean.”
“Hmph?”
“You’re, ah… you’re sort of humping my ass, professor.”
I wake with a start. My face is buried in Liv’s loose hair. One of my hands is clutching a fistful of her nightgown near her hip. My hard cock is pressed tight against her ass.
Shit.
“Sorry.” I let her go and shove back to my side of the bed. My heart is pounding, and I might actually be sweating. What the hell…
Oh, yeah.
The memory flares hot and vivid. My cock is so stiff it hurts. I grasp the base and wince as pressure floods my spine.
Liv takes a minute to disentangle herself from her nest of pillows, then she rolls over to face me. “You okay?”
“No.” I swallow. “I mean, yeah. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” She presses a cool hand to my forehead. “You’re hot.”
No wonder.
“Are you—” Liv pauses. Even in the dim light, I’m sure it’s impossible to miss the tent I’m making under the thin sheet. Not to mention I’ve been grinding against her in my sleep.
“Dean,” she repeats, her voice throaty and amused, “did you have a sex dream?”
I can’t respond because if I do, the images will sear through my brain and I’ll come all over the sheets. My fingers tighten reflexively on my cock. If I can manage to get out of bed and into the bathroom…
Liv moves closer. The heat of her skin sinks into me. Her breasts press against my arm. Her nipples are hard.
I can’t take much more.
“Liv, if you don’t get away from me, I’ll…”
She puts a hand on my bare chest and slides it down to my groin, moving my hand out of the way. She smells good, like cherries.
“Liv.”
“It’s okay.” Her cool fingers encircle and squeeze my shaft.
I suck in a breath and close my eyes. So fucking good.
I have no idea what she wants, but when I put a hand on her leg and start to pull her nightgown up, she stops me.
“I don’t need it, Dean. Not now. But I’ll make you feel good.”
“You don’t want anything?”
“I want you to tell me about your dream.”
I open my eyes to stare at her. She’s looking at me, her eyes dark, a wicked smile on her lush mouth.
I swallow hard again. “Uh…”
“I’ve told you a bunch of mine. What was yours?” She leans closer, giving my lower lip a quick swipe with her tongue. “Was I in it?”
“Yeah.”
“Was I a princess?”
“No.”
“Lady Guinevere? A milkmaid?” Her grip tightens on my cock as she slides her lips over my jaw and down to my damp chest. “Was I a medieval virgin?”
“You were a librarian.”
Her laugh is husky and hot against my skin. “Really? Did we do it on the card catalog?”
“The… circulation desk.”
“Tell me.” She licks the hollow of my throat, right where my pulse is pounding. Her hand starts moving up and down on my shaft. “I hope the library was closed.”
“It was.”
“So what were you doing there after hours?”
She’s kidding, right?
“I… my dreams aren’t as detailed as yours.”
“Okay.” Her thumb circles the head of my cock. Heat courses through my entire body. “So maybe you didn’t hear the closing call. You were deep in the stacks, looking for some dusty medieval tome, and when you emerged you realized the lights were off and no one was around anymore.”
I’m mildly tempted to ask her how I could have missed the lights dimming when I was looking for a book, but that detail fades into insignificance as her hand slides down to cup my balls.
“Yeah, that’s what happened,” I agree.
“Then what? Where was I?”
This I remember. “You were putting some books away on a shelf near the circulation desk. Wearing… ah, damn, that’s good… a short black skirt and a white, button-down shirt. No bra.”
“Hmm.” Her hand slides up my shaft again, her fingernails scratching lightly and causing waves of sensation.
“And when you stretched up to put a book on the top shelf, I saw you weren’t wearing any panties either.”
“Oh.” She leans closer, her breasts pressing against my side. Her thick hair falls over my chest. “Well, wasn’t I a shameless little slut?”
“Uh huh. Your skirt hiked right up and exposed the curve of your pretty little ass.”
“What… what did you do?”
“Watched you shelve more books. Stared at your ass.”
“Did you get aroused?”
“Very.”
“Then I turned around and saw you watching me?”
“Um, sure.” My brain is so fogged with lust I can’t think straight. All I remember from my dream was fucking Liv on the desk, but as long as she keeps working my cock the way she is, I’m willing to embellish the story.
“What did I do?” she asks.
“Told me the library was closed, that it was time for me to go. I brought you the book I wanted to check out. It was about… uh, ranking of sexual positions in the medieval era.”
“What was the ranking?”
“Missionary was most acceptable… standing was considered deviant.” I can’t help myself from reaching around her to fondle one of her tits. “You told me you’d always wanted to be deviant.”
That’s about all the embellishing I can manage right now. Liv’s hand is working faster, and my shaft is slick and pulsing. Her breath is hot on my neck.
“So what’d you do?” she asks.
“Grabbed hold of your shirt and ripped the buttons off. Your nipples were hard as pebbles, and you pushed your tits into my hands. I fondled and sucked them, then turned you around and bent you over the circulation desk.”
This part of the dream is pornographically vivid. I pushed Liv’s skirt up to expose her ass, then shoved a knee between her thighs to spread them. She was panting, rubbing her tits on the counter, her pussy open and ready.
“And you fucked me good.” Liv slides her leg over mine.
Yes, I did. I can’t get the words out. Sweat drips down my temples. Pressure is building hard and fast. The cherry smell of her fills my head.
Liv moves over to press her mouth against mine. She whispers, “And I was shrieking and writhing as you slammed your hips against me and filled me over and over with your big cock, then pulled out and shot all over my ass… Oh!”
A firestorm explodes in my blood. I come like a fucking torpedo, spilling over her hand and my stomach. Intense waves of heat flood me along with the spasms. I grab the back of her neck and thrust my tongue into her mouth as I pump my cock up into her fist.
“Jesus, Dean.” A hard shudder ripples through her body.
I grab her nightgown, certain that she’s hot and creaming, but she pulls back and puts her hand on my cheek.
“Don’t you want…” I stop.
“Yes, but… not now.”
I stare at her. Her skin is flushed, damp strands of hair sticking to her neck, her breathing rapid. I know all I have to do is touch her the right way and…
She eases away from me. Shakes her head.
“I don’t think I can.”
I take a breath. “I told you it’s not…”
“I know. I get it. Really, I do. I’m just being scared. And if you try and I can’t, then you’ll feel bad.”
“I don’t feel all that great about not trying.”
She smiles. “Believe me, Dean, if I wanted to, I’d have climbed on top of you ten minutes ago. And I know this isn’t easy for you, but we’ve waited this long… I can wait a little while longer.” She runs a hand down my chest.
“Yeah, but if you’re going to do me like that, you’ve got to give me something to give back.”
“Massages. Foot rubs. Bubble baths. You do the laundry. Let’s go have a few nice dinners out. Oh, pick me up those blueberry muffins from Sugar Bakery during your morning runs. I can’t get enough of them. Make a playlist of my favorite songs for us to take to the hospital. Maybe arrange for a few restaurants to deliver meals after the baby is born.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s more.” She leans in and presses her mouth against mine. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You always do, beauty.”