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“Fuck, girl,” I said, lifting her up and kissing her hard. “Fuck that was incredible.”
She smiled at me, pressed her head against my chest. “I can barely stand,” she said. “My knees are shaking.”
We leaned like that together against the counter, dripping wet and spent, pleasure rolling around my mind.
Damn right I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
I didn’t have a chance when Tara fucked like that.
19
Tara
My head was buzzing as I came down from my orgasm. Emory kissed me and grinned as he got into the shower, and so I was left alone to lean up against the counter, my mind running back over what had just happened.
I knew I should have told him to leave, should have just told him to go away. But I couldn’t, not when I wanted it so much. Emory was the only thing that made me feel good, feel really good, aside from Mason of course. Emory just made me feel new highs, new peaks of sensation and pleasure, things I never knew were possible.
He almost made me forget the danger we were in, and that was probably dangerous in itself. His cocky grin and his delicious, muscular body made me forget that I was being hunted by dangerous terrorists.
And I had to remember, couldn’t forget. I had to remember, at least for Mason’s sake.
As I stood there catching my breath, I heard something in the other room. I paused, listening, and then sighed. “Mason’s crying,” I said to Emory.
He poked his head out of the shower. “I can get him.”
“No. That’s okay. Finish your shower. You’ve done enough.”
He grinned at me. “I’m just getting started.”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I left the bathroom and went into my bedroom. Mason was awake and crying loudly, a screaming cry, very unusual for him. I bent down and lifted him up. His diaper was clean and he’d been fed recently. He almost never woke up crying like this, or at least not screaming like this.
“Okay, Mason, okay,” I said, rocking him. I could remember a handful of times that he’d cried like this before, but none in the last two months.
I bounced him as I walked slowly downstairs, heading into the kitchen. I thought maybe he might be hungry, but as soon as I tried feeding him, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t. I stood up again and walked around, bouncing and talking to him.
When I first found out I was pregnant, so long ago, I was terrified. I thought my life was over, that I was never going to do anything that I wanted to do again.
And in a lot of ways, I was right. My life as I knew it was over, but I could never have imagined what my new life was going to be like.
Sleepless nights, crying babies, stress, so much stress. Having an infant was so stressful, and it wasn’t going to get any better.
My parents and Lindy helped as much as they could, but in the end it was up to me. I learned as fast as I could and took on as much as I possibly could, but it was so hard.
But it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
That probably sounded cheesy, and maybe it was, but Mason really was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Before, I didn’t really have a set path in life; I didn’t have a purpose. I was going to parties and studying hard and spending time with my friends, but all of that was so empty and meaningless compared to Mason.
He gave my life purpose. During those first couple of months, I learned over and over again why people wanted to have children. It was so difficult, but so incredibly rewarding. Every new milestone he hit sent joy through my heart. Every time he smiled, I felt complete.
And every time he cried, I felt like my heart was breaking just a little bit.
I remembered those early sleepless nights when Mason just couldn’t stay down for more than a couple hours. I was like a walking zombie, and there were times when I wanted to give up. But I never did, because I loved that crying little baby more than anything else in the world.
People said your life changed when you had a child, and they were right. You just couldn’t really understand it until it actually happened to you. Until you had a child, it was impossible to really get how important and powerful that love was.
Mason was my everything, and as I walked around the living room, rocking him and talking to him, I felt a sadness growing inside me. I hated seeing him cry, especially like this. I had no clue what was wrong with him, what he needed.
I tried everything. I tried his favorite toys, his binky, his bouncy chair. I tried feeding and changing him, walking with him, bouncing him, reading to him.
But nothing worked.
I sat down in the kitchen, so frustrated. Emory walked in and leaned up against the doorframe. “Going okay?” he asked.
