I push so far inside of Lily and just stop.
She quivers, pulsating against my dick. Goddammit. I lean forward, one of my elbows on the mattress. I breathe heavily, and my eyes and hand rake her body. I thumb her hardened nipple before descending to her abdomen and splay my palm on the tiniest bump, almost unnoticeable.
Lily is about eleven-weeks pregnant.
We decided to start trying for another baby at the beginning of the year. We knew we could handle it, and we both wanted another. It took some months, but we’re thankful it happened.
I shift my hand lower and lower, and then I rub her clit.
Her back arches with a sudden gasp. I put my hand on her cheek, holding her head upright. I grind against Lily, my blood blazing. She shudders at the movement again.
Her eyes flutter closed.
“Lily Hale,” I whisper.
She forces her eyes open, but she’s gone. Lost. Sex is on another plane of existence. Her heartbeat races against mine. She clenches around my cock.
A groan scratches my throat. “Goddammit,” I curse, my jaw unhinging then locked tight. I grit my teeth hard, my eyes rolling.
Goddammit. My nerves are on fire. I toss the comforter over us, heat gathering. The smell of Lil almost rams me towards a climax. I almost just come right there. My muscles contract.
I hold her round face while I rock faster and harder.
Just now, the door clicks open. “Daddy, Mommy, can I go swimming please, please, please?”
“Moffy!” I yell, pissed. Lily and I are entirely beneath the covers, so I’m not sure what he can see. This is the first time he’s walked in on us while we’re having sex.
Lily blinks over and over, her cute come-face morphing into horror.
“What are you doing under there?” Moffy asks, walking closer.
Before she rips off my dick, I pull out and then climb off my wife. I just peek my head from the comforter. My ice-cold glare shrinks my son backwards. He’s already in orange swim trunks, goggles around his neck.
He’ll be seven in a month. He knows to knock.
“Moffy,” I say sharply. “How many times have we told you to knock before you enter someone’s room?”
His chin quivers. “I…I was just asking a question. I didn’t think you’d be mad.”
My heart stings, but he has to listen to us. If he thinks there’s no punishment at the end of this, then he’ll do it again. And next time, we may not be under the goddamn covers.
“Go wait in the hallway.” My voice is like shrapnel. “Close the door on your way out.”
Moffy retreats, worry sparking in his green eyes. Because I usually tell him to try again and knock this time. Once the door clicks closed, I lift up the covers. Lily lies on her stomach towards the other side of the bed. Right near the edge.
Like she planned to reach for her clothes on the floor. Something kept her from diving over. Probably sex. The thought. The want. Still inside of her. She can’t even speak right now.
I’m goddamn hard, ready to burst. I don’t waste time. I come up behind Lily while she’s flat on her stomach, and I raise her hips slightly and slide inside.
Surprise and want jolts her, and she looks back at me, lips parted. Heady and gone again. Pressure squeezes my cock, and my chest rises and falls as quickly as I thrust. I grip the crook of her hip and her tiny ass. Friction builds, and I end this faster than I ever would. My pace like lightning.
She comes with a muffled cry into the mattress.
I choke on a groan, and I don’t linger inside of Lily. I pull out, find a pair of boxer-briefs and black sweat pants. I tug both on. Then I turn to Lily and wipe the sweaty hair off her forehead. She’s still making sense of where she is while sluggishly fighting with the armholes of her baggy shirt.
“I’m going to go deal with our kid,” I tell her.
She finds the energy to kneel and tries to stick her head in her shirt. “It’s…not his fault, Lo.”
I lower my voice so Moffy can’t overhear us. “It is his fault. He knows better. We’ve told him a million goddamn times.”
She fits her head in and pulls the black shirt (my shirt) down. “We shouldn’t have had sex—”
“We’re the parents.” I point at my chest. “I’m allowed to fuck my wife. You’re allowed to fuck me and not feel guilty about it.” For Christ’s sake, we were doing so well for a minute there. It’s all circular. Addiction. Shame.
Lily hesitates, doubtful and uncertain.
I clasp her face between my hands and say strongly, “I would’ve slept with you this morning, even if you weren’t an addict. Would you still feel guilty if he walked in then?”
She thinks for a second. “Yes…because he should always come before sex.” She cringes at the word come. “Not like that. Notlikethat.”
I comb her hair back again. “It’s not about sex. It’s about the fact that he didn’t listen to us.”
Her brows crinkle, not seeing this from the same lens as me. “It is about sex.”
I let go of her and step back. I lick my lips, thinking. I can’t see away around this, so I make up my mind. “I’m grounding him.”
Lily springs from the bed, her black shirt falling to her thighs. “Don’t, Lo!”
I’m already walking to the door, and she tries to drag me backwards by the waist, but I end up dragging her forwards. When I reach the door, I spin around on Lily.
She crosses her arms, her seriousness tensing the room and me.
I have my hand on the knob. “I’m doing this, Lil.”
“Then we’re in a fight.” She nods resolutely.
My stomach twists. I can’t remember the last time we fought. “Lily…”
Tears well in her eyes. “I don’t want to punish him for this.”
“We have to.”
She shakes her head repeatedly. “We’ll lock the door next time.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t listen to us.” Our kids can’t walk all over us. Not when there are things in our lives that are so goddamn dangerous.
Alcohol. I will slam my foot down on the idea, on the concept, on the cold reality. They won’t be able to say, But Dad, the kid next-door drinks; can I have just one beer?
No.
No. I’m not a pushover, and they have to see the threat of disobeying us. They have to think in the back of their mind, my parents will ground me for this. Maybe then, they’ll hesitate enough to stop.
Lily shakes her head one more time.
I swallow hard. “I guess we’re in a fight.” Every word is a punch in the gut. I open the door and go outside. Moffy at least waited in the hallway like I asked. He sits by his bedroom door, snapping the elastic of his goggles. As soon as he sees me, he picks himself up.
“I won’t ever do it again,” Moffy says quickly. “Can I just go swimming? Please?”
It’s summer, no school for our children, and a bunch of us have to meet up with Garrison and my sister around noon. While we do that, the plan is to bring all the kids to the Cobalt’s for a “painting party” thing. Cobalt Inc.’s subsidiary company, ColorPalace, overproduced their neon line of finger-paints. Great for our kids who can now play with the extras, but shit for Cobalt Inc.
I tower above his pleading eyes. I don’t want him to feel powerless. Like I can dictate which way he turns and where he goes. I don’t want to be my father. I rebelled against every demand he cast towards me. I hated it. I hated all of it, and I can’t even imagine a world where I do that to Moffy. Where he feels so emotionally trapped that his solution is to shit on everything.
But I can’t let him live without boundaries. I had that too. I drank in excess at eleven. I stayed out late. I made excuses and lies.
There has to be a balance between being overbearing and being too lenient.
I squat down to him. “What’d you do wrong?” I start out.
He holds my gaze better than adults can, but his voice is meek. “I didn’t knock.”
“When you do something wrong,” I begin, watching his voice flood with sadness, “you have to be grounded.”
Moffy blinks back tears. “Like timeout?”
“Kind of, but it lasts much longer.”