Chapter 58
Callie
Once Asa left, I felt quite a bit more apprehensive about the whole ‘baby’ thing. I didn’t really feel pregnant yet, mostly just tired, and the thought of ballooning and then pushing a baby out of my business had me breaking out in a cold sweat. I couldn’t help being excited, though, especially after we’d seen our little bean on the ultrasound.
Farrah continued to live with me full time, but Gram stopped staying with me a couple weeks after Asa left. Thankfully, because Cody’s scholarship had expired when he’d graduated, Gram was no longer tied to San Diego. She’d had Cody drive down to pack up her trailer and move her things north—right into the apartment I’d just vacated. She’d said she didn’t want to be far away when I had the baby, which made the move to Sacramento seem odd to me. I was still planning on moving in with Asa as soon as Farrah got her shit together, and frankly, I was running out of patience.
It wasn’t as though I’d put her on a time limit. I hadn’t. But she seemed to be racing toward the edge of a cliff and everyone around her was just waiting for the fall. I sort of wished she would get to that point so we could deal with the fallout and she could start to heal. Everyone dealt with grief differently, and it seemed as if Farrah’s grief was manifesting into a drinking, tattooing, piercing extravaganza. She reminded me of a coloring book; every time she came home she had something new drawn or stuck into her body. Unfortunately, Asa had also hit the nail on the head when he told me to watch out for Cody. Something was going on with them even though neither of them were talking about it. It was almost a relief that Cody would be heading to Yale in the fall and I wouldn’t have to worry about whatever f*cked up thing they had going. The last thing Farrah needed was a new guy f*cking with her life, especially if that guy was my little brother.
It was the third week after Asa’d left and I’d slipped back into preparing for his visit. Everything was so much more vivid now that we were starting a family. I missed him more, loved him more, wanted him more—it was like every emotion I felt was magnified by ten. I wanted everything to be perfect when he arrived, even going so far as to buy new sheets for our bed and cleaning the toilet.
“Honey, I’m home!” he bellowed from the front door, startling me into hitting my head on the top of the cupboard I’d been cleaning.
“I just talked to you three hours ago!” I yelled back, running to him so I could jump and wrap my arms and legs around him. “You said you were just leaving!”
“I lied,” he replied smugly, grabbing my hair in a fist and kissing me deeply. “You surprised, Sugar?” he whispered into my mouth, walking us to our bedroom.
“Best surprise ever,” I whispered back, smiling wide.
“I even stopped by your Gram’s and let her know I was here so no one comes knocking.”
“I get to f*ck you without an audience?” I asked mischievously. “I won’t know what to do with myself.”
“How about you make all those noises I haven’t heard in f*ckin’ forever,” he told me with a groan as I bit down on his neck.
He carried me to the bed, never letting my feet touch the ground. When he set me down, I lay there lazily as he began to strip. His cut came first, sliding down his broad shoulders until he grabbed it with one hand and tossed it at the end of the bed, never taking his eyes off me.
When he reached behind his neck and could barely grasp the back of his t-shirt, I made a noise deep in my throat.
“You keep getting bigger,” I sighed huskily.
“Not a lot to do except drink when I’m not on jobs,” he told me with a grin. “Been working out so I didn’t give myself blisters jacking off.”
I snorted then laughed hysterically. “Been a little frustrated, baby?”
“F*ckin’ understatement,” he grumbled at my laughter as he stripped out of his boots and jeans.
“I can help with that,” I murmured, my eyes widening as I realized he hadn’t worn boxers.
“You think?” he asked, leisurely stroking himself as I watched.
“I’m pretty—” my voice came out sounding like Jessica Rabbit’s and I had to clear it before continuing, “I’m pretty sure.”
“Good,” he answered, nodding his head. “Strip.”
My heart was pounding as I climbed up to my knees, my hands going directly to the waistband of my shorts. I pulled them off slowly, watching his nostrils flare as my shorts and underwear hit the bed. I leaned back onto my ass to pull them off and gave him a good view, but he didn’t take the invitation, content to watch as he stroked himself.
“The shirt,” he commanded, his voice a deep growl that I’d come to know and crave.
I pulled my shirt off slowly. Once it was off, I remembered the bra I was wearing and raced to pull it off, fumbling and turning my body away from him as I tried to undo the closure on the back.
“Hey,” he called, reaching out to grab my hands as I frantically tried to get it off. “What’s up?”
“I bought a really sexy bra that I was going to put on when you were almost here,” I moaned, embarrassed. “I was going to change out of this one before you got here.”
“Why?” he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“Because it’s an old lady bra!” I huffed back, finally giving up on trying to unhook the three rows of hook-and-eyes holding it together.
“Sweetheart, it’s just a bra,” he told me, leaning down to run his lips over the top of my breasts. “It looks like it fits.”
“It does fit,” I told him softly, running my hand through his hair as he placed little kisses all over my chest. “But the other one is pretty, and this one isn’t.”
“If you don’t like this bra, then why did you buy it?”
I grasped his hair and tilted his face up to mine. “This is one of my comfortable bras. The other ones are for you to see.”
“You’re saying I can’t see most of your bras?”
“Just the comfortable ones,” I said with a nod.
“You’re outta your mind,” he stated firmly, pulling my hips until I’d fallen back on the bed. “You’re throwing all of those uncomfortable bras in the f*ckin’ trash.”
“The hell I am!” I gasped, trying to sit up.
“Calliope, I want you,” he told me seriously, running his fingers down the center of my belly until he’d reached the heat between my legs. “I don’t give a f*ck what kind of bra you’re wearing as long as it’s not digging into your ribs and your tits. You have uncomfortable bras, you throw that shit out.”
His fingers started exploring as if they hadn’t touched me a million times before, and my breathing hitched as he hit my *.
“Now, take off this bra that you’ve been bitching about so I can see you,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss me softly.
I arched my back and easily undid my bra with one hand as he leaned back on his knees, his hands leaving my body.
“Jesus Christ, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled as I threw my bra as far across the room as I could. He knelt there staring for what felt like forever, and I wondered if he was noticing the thicker thighs and waist I was sporting. When he hadn’t moved for over a minute, I felt myself growing embarrassed even though I knew it was ridiculous.
“Are you going to touch me?” I asked in a snippy tone, my insecurity coming out bitchy like it always did.
“Yeah, Sugar. I’m gonna touch you,” he answered, running his hand down my leg. “I wanna look at your new body first.”
“Cataloguing my fat, huh?”
“Shut it, Callie,” he answered fiercely. “Don’t ever say that shit to me.”
My mouth snapped shut at his order, my face burning with embarrassment. I knew I wasn’t fat, but insecurities were a bitch and it felt like I was gaining weight faster than I should have been.
“You were gorgeous when I met you,” he told me quietly, running a hand from the top of my shoulder to my wrist. “But now? You’re so f*ckin’ beautiful it almost hurts to look at you. Your tits are all full and round, your belly’s got a little bump already, and f*ck me, but I’m pretty sure your thighs and ass are gonna make me have a heart attack.” As he detailed my body parts, he ran his hands over them lightly until my entire body was covered in goose bumps.
“Such a sweet talker,” I murmured back, reaching up to run my fingers across his jaw as tears filled my eyes.
“I aim to please,” he grunted back, leaning down to catch a nipple.
I sniffed once before getting my tears under control and arched my back as he tugged hard with his teeth.
“Careful!” I hissed quietly. “I’m super sensitive and they hurt.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” he murmured back, licking over the offended nipple as if to soothe it. “You sore down here, too?” he asked as he slid down my body until he was looking between my legs.
“No,” I gasped as he licked me gently. “Not sore.”
I think he mumbled the word “good” but I wasn’t sure because his lips pressed firmly into my * and I keened low in my throat. He licked and sucked and bit at me until I was writhing on the bed, but right when I was about to come, he pulled back.
“Asa!” I snapped, pulling at his hair in an attempt to move his face back where I wanted it.
“That’s right, Sugar,” he hissed as he pulled my hands away from his head, trapping them above me as he moved in between my legs.
He paused until I was jerking at my arms and tilting my hips against him, then leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Now scream it for me,” as he pushed inside with one powerful thrust.
“F*ck!” I yelled, shocked by the feel of him after three weeks.
“Not what I was looking for,” he commented as he pulled out slowly and slammed back in.
“Asa,” I whimpered, trying to follow his directions but unable to catch my breath enough to do it.
“Louder,” he grunted, letting go of one of my hands so he could reach down and very gently twist my nipple.
I jerked off the bed in response, feeling myself start to shake as his pelvis rubbed against my * with every slow, outward pull. We were quiet for a few moments, watching each other as my climax grew closer and closer, until finally, it hit.
“Asa!” I moaned loud and long as I came.
“Perfect,” he gasped as his hand slid to my chin, tilting my head back. “So goddamn perfect.”
Then he latched down on my throat and sucked strongly, marking me as he came.
After catching our breath, I cleaned up and crawled back into bed with him, content to do nothing but feel his skin against mine.
“You been feeling okay?” he questioned, rubbing his hand softly over my belly.
“Yep. No issues so far,” I answered, planting my elbow on the bed so I could lean up and trace the tattoo across his collarbone.
“I hate being so far away,” he told me seriously. “I wanna watch all this. Seems like you’ve already changed in the three weeks since I saw you last. This little curve is new.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny because people can’t figure out if it’s a baby or just fat,” I told him with a laugh.
“When are you gonna let Farrah stand on her own two feet?” he asked with a sigh. “I know she’s your best friend, but she doesn’t seem to see anyone but herself, and you’re not doing anything but giving her a free place to live.”
“I know,” I murmured, flopping onto my back on the bed. “But I can’t just ditch her. Everyone in her life f*cks her over. I don’t want to be another person on that list.”
“I think you’re gonna have to have a ‘come to Jesus’ with her. We can’t keep putting off our life for her, Callie. It’s gotta stop at some point,” he told me, playing with my fingers.
When I was silent, he changed the subject, “Why don’t you paint your toenails? Fingers are always different colors, but you never paint your toes.”
I slipped into a memory of leisurely painting my toes as I listened for my parents and forcefully pushed it out of my head. It was a simple question and didn’t require a long explanation, but I couldn’t force the answer past my throat.
“Don’t care if you paint your toes, Callie,” he assured me, coming to the wrong conclusion about my silence.
“The day before my parents were killed, instead of talking things out with them, I sat in my room and painted my toenails,” I told him with a shrug and shake of my head. “Because that was so f*cking important.”
“That had nothing to do with what happened,” he told me quietly, leaning over me.
“I know that.”
“You need to stop ignoring it, Callie.”
“I’m not ignoring anything. I just choose not to remember.”
“Sweetheart, it’s just gonna keep popping back up, you can’t hold that shit back forever,” he stated seriously.
“Can we talk about something else? You just got home and I’d just like to revel in that for a bit,” I answered, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips.
“Yeah, but we’re gonna revisit at a later date,” he warned.
“Fine,” I pouted, then ordered, “Tell me how much you love me.”
“More than my bike, less than my dick,” he answered with a straight face.
“Ha! A*shole!” I laughed as he began to tickle me.
That weekend with him would become one of my best and most important memories.