A Mess of Reason (32 page)

“Okay, close your eyes. I’m coming out!” I
sing it in my best Diana Ross—which is marginal at best.

“Close my eyes? Not a chance. Get your sweet
ass out here, woman. I want a show!”

I press play on my iPhone, volume at full
bore. “Ain’t No Other Man” by Christina Aguilera starts blasting as
I sashay out of the closet in my four-inch silver heels, fishnet
thigh highs, and tiny lace robe that ties in the front over my
whompin’ belly. I skipped the panties because good Lord, I can’t
see down there anymore unless Scout holds a mirror about two feet
away from my lady parts. Getting lace panties on is worse than the
stocking hullabaloo.

My bra, though…oh sister. I’ve gone from a
32A to a 36C. Seemed impossible to me but I am living proof that
miracles do happen. I officially have fun bags. Yup, my very own
dairy section. And let me tell you, we have used and abused these
Victoria’s Secret wannabe angels like nobody’s business. So yes, I
have on a bra that will make Scout’s head spin. It’s made of tiny
gold mesh chains with sexy gold tassels in the front. I got it in
online from a fancy store in Paris. Gonna shake my moneymakers, now
that I’ve got some!

The smile on his face as he watches me come
out dancing gives me a storm of butterflies in my belly. He’s all
devilishly handsome, with eyes sparkling as he takes me in head to
toe. We’re both cracking up and I know with every fiber of my being
that even though I feel like a capsized turtle, he really does find
me sexy as all get-out, because he’s that guy. Big as I am, let me
tell you—I can still move. And this being my favorite dance
song…this little almost mama is shaking her groove thang.

“Tess.” It comes to me in a low, rumbling
growl. I love the way he says my name. Nothing sounds sexier than a
man calling your name with want and need in an erotic, dark tone.
“Jesus, sweetheart—hot as fuck. Get over here. Lap dance time.”

“There are rules, Scout.”

“There are times to play by the rules and
times to break them. I’m making my own rules for you, little hot
mama. No panties, nice. Let’s shake this robe thing off—I want
prime real estate in my lap.”

Scout pulls the ribbon on my robe and moves
it off my shoulders. Now it’s just me in a few barely-there
bits…and his ready-to-roll beautiful maleness.

“Turn around. I want to see your sweet ass
ride me. Give it to me, girl.”

I spin myself around, put my hands on my
knees, shaking every ounce of my sex at him as I giggle. His laugh
kills and eggs me on, those deep groans laced with lust and
chuckles making my pulse kick up like a lit fuse. After palming my
ass with his hands, making me wetter than a puddle, he pulls my
hips onto him, allowing me to slide up and down his stiff length as
he kisses the back of my neck with wet, sweet, tender licks. I
gyrate my hips in circles, then move with slow strokes across him,
dragging my saturated sex against his velvety girth.

“Fuck, Tess, this hot. Turn around and
straddle me. I want those gorgeous melons in my face.”

I turn to face him, and he spreads my legs
over his knees, allowing me to shake the bounty of my breasts
across his lips. I go full tilt, as if I’ve had them forever. I own
these girls. They are, no question, my new favorite sex accessory.
Too bad they don’t have an off-vibration button.

Scout breaks all rules, per usual—thank God
for the bad boys—and slips his fingers under the chains that
crisscross over my nipples. I don’t need much more that a
featherlight touch and good Lord, the orgasms are so powerful now,
I’m certain I’ll go into labor or orbit every time I come. He
strokes my nipples with one hand while caressing every inch between
my legs with the other. He’s all male. Hands roving, sex radiating
off him, his masculine scent of barely-there spice clinging to
space between us.

“Scout, I’m gonna…”

I’m so close. So very achingly close. His
fingers slide through my velvety folds, pausing on my clit for the
perfect little rub at each pass. He unfastens my bra and consumes
my breasts like he’s lapping a bowl of milk. The sound of his
suckling, as I look down to see my pink nipples gliding in and out
of his begging lips, drags every ounce of pleasure from my core as
I come.

“Good girl,” he says in a husky growl. “Oh
baby, that was gorgeous. To see you lose it on my lap… Okay, now
turn back around and straddle me so I can fuck your wet pussy.”

“Careful, Scout, I’m pretty hot right now.
You can’t say those words without making me want to blow
again.”

“What words, sweetheart?” he says as I ease
myself onto his lap, pressing my back against his sweaty chest,
feeling his unshaven face nuzzle against me.

“Fuck my wet pussy.” It’s a broken whisper,
a sultry promise. He loves anything naughty that falls from my
lips. He baits me, and I let him have it because he waits for it
like a starved dog outside a butcher shop. I feel his hands holding
his cock as he slides it into me, burying himself so deeply it
makes my toes curl in ecstasy. I want all he’s got to give. His
sex-roughened groan has me wetter than ever as I rise and fall in
slow, penetrating pumps over his rigid length.

“I just needed to hear you say that. Oh
fuck, Tess. You’re still so fucking tight…gripping my cock. You are
the sexiest thing ever, baby.” His hands hold my breasts as they
bounce up and down in rhythm with my acceleration. He twists my
nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making me want to come
undone already. His hands are perfection to watch, those long
beautiful fingers working over my curves, owing every inch of
me.

“Scout, I’m not long for it, honey…oh!” The
bomb inside of me is about to go off again as all points in my body
begin to gather and sweep together like the swirl of a tornado.

“Oh, Tess, yeah…” he says as he slides his
fingers down my ass crack—which almost makes me come right
then—until I feel his fingers split open around his cock as they
reach my clit, sliding back and forth with each intense
penetration.

“I’m there, Scout. Come with me…oh…” And as
I say the words and claim the ache from the depth of my orgasm, I
come like never before, wetter than ever… and holy mother of God,
it keeps coming…and coming. As in, mini-waterfall…

“Sweetheart, I think you more than just
came, baby. Unless we just sprung a leak on the melons?”

“What?” I say, while sliding up and down his
length, claiming that last bit of pleasureful throbbing.

“I think your water broke. I think it’s
time.”

“Oh my God…time?” Like a shotgun going off
inside of me, panic hits.

“Baby time, Sass!” His smile blankets me in
a cocoon of love and warmth, sending shivers across every naked
piece of my skin. I burst into tears, overwhelmed by the ecstatic
feelings surging like lighting through my body.
Baby
time?

“Scout…” I’m shaking as I look down at his
soaked legs, the chair, the floor…then back up to his watery eyes.
He’s all warm-milk calm, pulling my body into his, and it makes me
cry even harder because I just know he’s going to make the best
daddy ever.

“Honey, it’s okay. Breathe. I’m going to go
call the midwife and we’re going to get you set up by the birth
pool just like we’ve been talking about. Don’t be nervous. We’re
gonna do this together. Calm baby, calm.”

Nervous?
Nervous?
I’m flipping
out—nervous was five seconds ago. I’m terri-fucking-fied. Excited,
but scared shitless. I’m about to go bungee jumping off the top of
a building. But at least I know this: I’m about to have a baby
tonight with the most amazing, lovely man who’s ever graced the
face of this earth.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SCOUT

From all outward appearances, you could call
me calm. Calmer than a sleeping sloth, even. I realize there’s no
choice in this: only one of us gets to flip their lid. Inside, my
head is buzzing like a field of crickets on fire. I’m at the final
game of the season about to throw the ball to the receiver, who’s
going to zip down the sideline and touch that sucker down.

Within one hour our midwife, Nora, is here
and Tess has gone from orgasming on my lap to full-on contractions
coming at her in stunning force. A hard, charging rush of
adrenaline hits me every time she yells out in pain. I’m determined
not to give away my fears, but fuck if my emotions aren’t scattered
about yard-sale style.

“
Fuuuuck! Scouuut!
The next time a
woman tells me natural childbirth is a beautiful thing, back the
hell up so I can roundhouse kick her in the face. “Beautiful” would
not be my most choice word right now!

Yes. Like a wildcat swimming in the sea,
she’s yelling. I kind of figured she wouldn’t be a lamb about it. I
actually encouraged drugs, but the midwife thought differently and
convinced us otherwise. I didn’t want to be a dick about it so I
backed off. Right about now, Tess is saying dick would have been
good. Not that I’m throwing anyone under the bus.

“Give me a shot of tequila; I honestly
cannot handle this!
Scout!
” Now she’s barking orders. I’m
calm though. Calm, calm, calm. She’s officially been hacked into by
the Tasmanian birthing devil that smells blood in the water, then
infiltrates mothers in labor. I can hear it in her Beelzebub
tone.

“Tess, baby…calm. You would puke if you had
a shot right now.”

She grabs my arm with a death grip,
literally drawing blood via three of her short, emerald-green
nails. “
Now!
Dammit!”

I shoot a look at the midwife with raised
brows and question in my eyes. She gives me a concerned look with
an unsure nod, then whispers to me that while it’s not the best
idea in the book and not her suggestion even remotely, it’s our
choice.
Perfecto!
Everybody wins!

“Coming right up!” The pit of my stomach
feels lined with acid as I hand Tess the shot that she promptly
swigs back like an alley drunk. Minutes later, although the
contractions keep coming in tsunami waves, she does seem a
hair—fractionally only, but yes—more calm.

Then we go into iron-clad lock-down mode.
It’s time.

“Scout, she’s at ten, so let’s get her into
the bath again, and you get to play receiver this time, Mr. QB.”
Nora takes my arm and leads me into position as though I’ve just
had a lobotomy. That would be shock she’s identified registering
across my face.

It’s what we’ve planned all along: the baby
would come out into my hands. My hands that are trembling like a
freshly shot buck. Anticipation hangs thick in the air as I help
Tess sit in the small birthing pool. I climb in between her legs
and massage her calves as she molds her body against the side of
the pool, dragging deep breaths in through her nose.

“Tess, look at me. Eyes on me, baby.
Breathe…we’re gonna have a baby now.”

“I’m so scared, Scout. Excited but scared.”
Her sweet smile and big, tear-filled eyes nearly gut me in the
intimate moment we share.

“Hey, sweetheart. Me too. I promise you, I’m
here all the way. But you’ve got to push now.”

She clings to my arms as if I’m her lifeline
as her feet jam into my hips. All the air escapes her lungs while
her face fills with blood. Over and over we do this, until finally
I see the sign I’ve been waiting for—a small wisp of hair.

“Tessie girl, I see our baby.” I’m shouting
at her like I’ve spotted Santa in the night sky. “Keep going,
honey. You’re doing this…come on, girl. Come on…give it to me,
baby.”

“
Scouuuuut!
” she screams with a huge
push, and then I see a tiny, bright red, scrunched face, shortly
followed by shoulders that are as wide as my forefinger is long.
The knot in my gut is heavy as a bowling ball. I feel giant and
fragile at once as I sit in this warm bath helping my gorgeous,
darling wife give birth to our very first child.

“Tess, here she is.
She
, Tess. We…we
have a girl, sweetheart.”

A tiny, blond-haired, screaming baby girl. I
can hardly speak as wee cries come from her tiny, bright red lips
in life-affirming waves. She is the smallest, most beautiful thing
I’ve ever seen or held in my hands. Tess is crying harder than I
am, arms reaching out to me as I lay our wet, blood-covered angel
baby onto her chest.

“Scout, she’s so…tiny. So beautiful… Oh
Scout, look at her.” Tess is smiling through her tears, her very
first “I’m now a mother” smile. I’m shattered. Every rule I know
gone. Every bit of love I have sitting in front of me. Every ounce
of me claimed by these two beautiful girls whom I’m holding in my
arms. My whole world, my whole heart, my whole soul owned by them
and the exquisite rawness of the moment we share.

“Wow, look at her go.” My arm is around
Tess’s shoulder as I watch our minutes-old baby girl suckle milk
from Tess’s remarkable, engorged breasts.

“She must have gotten her hunger from her
daddy, huh?”

Yeah, you heard that too? I’ve just been
called a daddy for the first time. I feel like I’ve been given a
shot of estrogen because I’ve cried about nine times in the last
hour alone.

“I like that word…daddy.”

“You’re gonna be a really good daddy,
Scout,” she says, looking right at me.

“You’re already a good mama, sweetheart.”
She’s not good—she’s perfect, exquisite, and my everything. “I’m
kind of a jealous daddy right now, watching our little nipper suck
on your gorgeous holy grails.”

“Oh my God. I knew this was coming. I knew
you’d try to edge out our baby once the milk got flowing.”

“Don’t kid yourself, mama, I’m next in line
at the ice cream stand.”

“Yeah, I’ve got your number, Scout
Steele.”

“You did it, Tessie girl. I’m so proud of
you. We made a baby and you just gave birth to her.”

She lets out a big sigh, then nudges me with
her elbow. “Gigi—don’t you think, honey?”