Coup De Grâce (14 page)

My hair flipped over my back, and Michael caught it, fisting it into his hands as he pulled back his hips.

Then he sank back inside, pulling my hair to urge me to move back against him at the same time.

I obliged, throwing my hips back so hard that a loud
smack
filled the room where our hips collided.

He grunted.

“That’s the way you want to do this?” He asked casually, as if he wasn’t driving me crazy with his slow movements.

“Yes!” I screamed.

He obliged that, too.

Pulling his hips back until the meaty head of his cock stayed notched in my entrance, he rammed back inside of me so hard that my knees lifted from the bed.

“Ahhh,” I moaned, lightening coursing through my veins as the erotic staccato of his movements lit me up like a firecracker.

Pleasure was building in my core.

My previous orgasm barreling back towards the finish line as he slammed into me, harder and harder until the only thing I anticipated was the delicious pain that shot through me each time he sank inside of me.

His free hand, that wasn’t pulling back on my hair, found a home on my ass, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I was sure he’d pull my ass off.

But soon I didn’t care because I was coming.

The erotic pain, the pure pleasure, and the excitement smashed through me all at once, and I spontaneously combusted.

Or so it felt like.

Maybe it was an orgasm.

But I wouldn’t call what I had with Michael ‘normal.’

What we had was fan-fucking-tastic.

“I’m coming,” I gasped. “Please!”

He knew what I wanted.

His hand left my hair, and the other left my hip.

One traveled to my clit while the other went to one of my breasts: pulling, plucking, and tickling.

My personal bottle rocket exploded into a full blown fireworks finale as I clamped down on him so hard I heard him curse and pump his hips impossibly faster.

“Jesus,” he grunted.

Then I felt the hot splash of his come pouring into me, filling me up, and marking me as his.

He pushed forward one final time and stayed planted, panting with exertion.

“You know,” he said. “I don’t even muster up this much sweat when I run.”

I groaned.

“I can’t complain.”

And I couldn’t.

If I had to deal with the sweat to get the pleasure I just had, then I’d take it every day of the week and twice on Sundays.

He pulled out of me, leaving me feeling bereft.

I was on my belly on the bed, and I could feel his essence leaking out of me in a gush.

Yet I didn’t have the energy to care at that moment.

“Get up, woman,” Michael slapped my ass.

I flipped him off, no doubt leaking come all over the bed.

I’d change the sheets when we got home.

There was no way I could move right now.

Well, that is unless Michael were to pick me up.

Which he did only seconds later, wrapping his big hands around my waist and standing me up.

“Clean up, pull up your pants, and let’s go. I can just hear my mom screeching now,” Michael teased.

Horror filled me.

“What?” I said frantically. “Are we late?”

Of course we were late.

We’d just had sex when we should’ve been leaving, Nikki Pena!

“Gah!” I said hurriedly, placing the palm of my hand between my legs to catch any stray drops that might leak out as I hobbled to the bathroom, my pants still around my ankles from where he’d left them earlier.

Michael laughed as he watched, sitting down on the bed to holster his gun and tie his shoes.

Twenty minutes later, and only ten minutes late, we pulled up to his parents’ house.

It was gorgeous.

It was one of those plantation houses with white paint, huge white pillars, red shutters, and a large front porch that housed rocking chairs.

“This is nice,” I said in awe.

I’d grown up on a farm.

We’d lived in a five bedroom house with seven children.

My brother, being the only boy, had gotten a room by himself while my sisters and I all had to spilt into three.

It looked like this house had no less than ten bedrooms.

Plus a maid’s quarters.

And a pool house.

“Yeah,” he agreed, opening his door and hurrying around to mine. “It was good.”

I hopped out when he offered me his hand, and started up the front walk.

“I’m nervous,” I whispered to Michael.
“And we’re late!”

He patted my hand. “It’ll be alright.”

I knew it would be.

He’d make it so.

But that still didn’t help the nervousness that was tearing up my insides.

Or was that the nausea that hadn’t gone away for three days?

Because I felt like I was going to die.

Of nervousness. Or maybe anorexia since I was so stinkin’ hungry.

I’d met his parents on the ped’s floor, of course, but only long enough to chat with them since they’d both been working at the time.

Meeting them at their house, in their territory, on their baby boy’s arm, was a different thing entirely.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he told me, as we walked up the front walk of his parent’s house.

“Are you sure my pants aren’t too tight?” I asked worriedly.

His eyes went from the front door to my ass, and I could see his pupils dilate.

“No baby, they’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Maybe we should go home. Call and tell them you’re still sick…”

I laughed, knocking him with my elbow in the ribs.

“We did that before we came,” I teased lightly.

Then the door in front of me opened, and a beautiful woman, with Michael’s blue eyes,
opened the door, and at her back was a man with Michael’s brown hair. With a few gray hairs that only added to its awesomeness.

“Michael, you’re late,” his mother said reprovingly. Then her eyes lit on Michael’s bared arms, and I winced.

That’d been me begging him to wear a t-shirt.

I should’ve let him wear the long sleeve one he wanted to wear.

“Ma,” he said, walking in with me behind him. “We were held up trying to find a matching shoe.”

And we had been.

That’d been what had started the whole thing tonight.

I’d been looking under the bed, and he’d been looking at my ass instead of for my shoe.

“Nikki!” Hannah called from further beyond. “I’m glad you could make it!”

I smiled genuinely at Hannah, then melted even further as the little girl in her arms launched herself at Michael.

“Uncle Mickey!”
Reggie screeched.

Reggie was a ball of sunshine and happiness wrapped up in a hot pink dress and brown curls.

I wanted her!

How cute was she?

“Uncle Mickey! Spin!” Reggie screeched again.

The rest of us watched as Michael spun Reggie in a circle, arms extended out in front of him while he held her suspended in the air.

She screeched and yelled, hollering and hooting as she did the ‘
airpane
.’

“Alright, children. That’s enough. How about some dinner?” Elizabeth chastised them gently.

Michael swung one more time, then came to an abrupt stop.

He placed Reggie on the floor, and we all watched as she started to stumble as her equilibrium came back to her in slow increments.

Michael caught her before she could face plant, and laughed at her.

“You did better, Reggie-Roo,” he said, pulling her tightly into his chest.

I could tell he loved her.

Dearly.

And I couldn’t help a pang of sadness at the sight.

I wanted that to be our kid together.

“What’s for dinner?” Another voice called from the living room.

I looked up, startled to see another man there.

He resembled Michael in color.

He had the same tanned skin and brown hair. But that was where their similarities stayed.

This man had a more ‘baby’ face with a very lean build to him.

He didn’t look much like the rest of the family, like Hannah and Michael did.

“I made lemon pepper chicken and garlic mashed potatoes with asparagus and a pound cake for dessert,” Elizabeth smiled, happy that someone had asked her what she’d made.

I noticed how the man nodded, and the woman plastered against him grimaced.

I’d forgotten that Joslin might possibly be here.

Or more like shut it out.

I really didn’t like the woman, and I must’ve unconsciously protected myself from thinking about it all day, because until just now, I’d completely forgotten she’d be here.

Michael wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as he said, “Smells great, mom. I hope you made some sweet tea, though. I’m thirsty.”

Elizabeth gave her son a droll look.

“What do you take me for, a Yankee?” She jeered.

I snorted, and covered my mouth with my hand at the jab.

Joslin was from up North.

I knew that because she always liked to say how Texas ‘wasn’t New York.’

Well, thank God for that!

“Well,
lead the way, ma. You’re
complainin’ about how I was late, yet here you are lolly-gaggling,” Michael teased.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her son.

“Watch it,” she waggled her finger at him.

Dinner was excellent. And not a thing went wrong the entire time.

I kept my eyes on my own plate, smiled at everyone, and acted like I was comfortable.

But the whole time I wasn’t.

Joslin did nothing but glare at me the entire time, and I lost patience with her about thirty minutes into the meal, and started glaring right back.

“More chicken?”

I looked up to find Dean holding the chicken
dish out to me, and I shook my head. “No
, thank you.”

His eyes narrowed when I wouldn’t take the dish, and I looked down at my empty plate.

“I’m filled to the brim, promise,” I told him.

He sighed.

“Dean doesn’t like it when the women in his life don’t eat as much as a small horse,” Michael mumbled around a bite of bread. “I keep telling him to get over it, but he has a phobia.”

I blinked.

“A phobia?” I asked in confusion.

I really was stuffed, so it didn’t matter if he wanted me to eat more or not. I wasn’t going to.

Not with the way my stomach had been roiling on and off lately.

“A girl he dated in high school used to
be anorexic. So he thinks every girl he knows is,” Hannah muttered, smiling at her brother in humor.

“I do not!” Dean denied.

“You do,” Manuelo laughed from the end of the table.

“So, Mom,” Joslin interrupted the conversation with her normal awesome self. “What are we doing for the holidays? I really want to go to Colorado to ski again.”

I hated skiing. So hopefully Michael didn’t expect me to go with him.

“We tried that last year and it didn’t go well;
that’s off the table for this year,” Manuelo muttered, making me love him in that instant. “Plus
, now we have another person to add to the mix we’ll have to start syncing our schedules now.”

My heart warmed at the mention of me, and when Manuelo smiled at me, I knew he’d forever have my heart.

If anyone can take on Joslin like that, then I was all for him!

“But last year the boys picked. This years the girls pick,” Joslin whined.

Michael made his mouth busy by shoving another piece of bread in it, but I could tell he wanted to yell at her.

Hell, so did I.

I didn’t, of course.

Surprisingly, it was Dean who said it.

“How about we talk about this when it comes closer to time? It’s only April,” Dean offered.

“Alright, well since everyone’s done, I’ll clean the dishes. Nikki, Joslin, how about you two help me?” Elizabeth asked nicely.

I refrained from grimacing.

Cleaning the kitchen was my least favorite thing to do in the world.

Give me a mop or a toilet brush all day long, but the thought of touching food and smelling it really made me want to gag.

Michael looked at me, gauging my willingness to do it, and started to say something, but I stayed his hand.

“Okay,” I said brightly, standing up and reaching for Michael’s and my plate.

When I started to pull Michael’s plate away, he held onto it until I looked into his eyes.

What I saw there was concern.

For me.

Smiling at him, I leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips, whispering, “I’m okay.”

He looked into my eyes, studying me for long moments, then nodded. “Bring me some pie on the way back out.”

I winked. “Yes, sir.”

“See, that’s what I like to hear! Lizzie, when are you gonna learn how to obey like that?” Manuelo asked loudly.

Laughing, I followed a grumbling Elizabeth, and an even more unhappy Joslin, into the kitchen.

“Makin’ us look bad, my dear,” Elizabeth said once the door swung shut behind us.

They had one of those swinging doors that I’d only seen in movies, and their kitchen was state of the art.

“Man, I could knock out some tamales in here!” I said in awe.

“You’re welcome to make them anytime you wish, as long as you share,” Elizabeth offered graciously.

“Deal,” I said, stopping by the trash to dump what remained on the two plates in my hand into the trash before walking them to the sink where Elizabeth was rinsing the dishes.

Joslin took a seat at the table and started leafing through a magazine, leaving Elizabeth and I to fill the silence, which was surprisingly easy, considering.

“So, what made you want to be a midwife?”
Elizabeth asked, offering me
a rinsed off dish to load into the dishwasher.

“I’m a paramedic. The first call I ever took when I was on my own was a forty week pregnant woman having her baby in a closet in her bedroom. It was during one of those storms that threatened to hail and damage everything in the affected area with its high winds. They’d just rung the tornado siren when we showed up,” I told her. “So we get there, and she’d already moved to the closet with her freaking out husband at her side. That’s where we delivered her. And I’ve been hooked ever since.”