Lake - Manning Page 13

  I dropped the water bottles. They thudded heavily on the wood floor, rolling under the bed. I answered him by undoing his belt buckle. “Only if you leave your suit on, too.”

  He held me up by my waist so I could get his zipper down. My mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful cock against the fine fabric of his suit, at his urgency to spoil my cream bridal dress bunched between us. I lined him up against me, sliding his head through my wetness. “You told me once you wanted to blemish me. Ruin me. Now’s your chance.”

  “Careful, or I’m going to rip right through your dress.”

  “The way you did my innocence?” I asked in his ear.

  He pushed me harder up against the wall but didn’t enter me. “All I did was claim you. But you were already mine, weren’t you, Birdy?”

  He started to press inside me, stealing my breath as he made me wait. “Yes,” I said, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Now it’s official. Now, you’re mine to lick and suck and fuck—anywhere, any time.”

  I pushed down onto him, but he slowed me by holding my hips. “Please, Manning.”

  “Lake.”

  I took my eyes from the ceiling to look at him. “Please.”

  “Tell me you’re with me,” he said. “That you understand what this is, right here—what it means to me.”

  I breathed through my mouth, my mind racing to keep up. Manning going crazy enough for the both of us, deciding when and how to fuck me, talking me into a frenzy—none of that was new. The difference tonight was that I’d stood in front of everyone we knew and made him mine. “You and I are official,” I said to him. “You’re my husband.”

  “You’re my wife. Now tell me what you want.”

  “I want to be claimed and consumed and made love to by my husband. First against the wall because he can’t wait. Then on the bed he built us. Our bed.”

  He thrust halfway in. I arched my back, keeping my eyes on his because he would’ve demanded it anyway.

  “I want us to be married in every sense of the word,” I continued.

  “Fuck, Lake,” he nearly begged, gripping my hips. He was so big that it always took time—and patience neither of us had. “I can’t believe, after all these years, I haven’t fucked you right open.”

  I bit my lip, groaning as I urged him deeper, my heels digging into his ass. “You fuck me open every time.”

  Manning plunged the rest of the way in. I held onto his shoulders as he took me, his hot, urgent mouth on mine. His powerful thrusts and skilled fingers brought me to the edge as his lips wandered down my neck. But it was catching sight of us in the floor-length mirror, the groom in his suit, fucking his willing bride in her dress, that brought me to climax.

  Manning saw me through my orgasm, then carried me to our bed. He lay me on my back, standing between my legs with determination in his eyes. Still inside me, he slowly rocked his hips back and forth. He hadn’t come, and he didn’t want to—not yet. We had a long night ahead of us.

  That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to get him to. I took his tie with both hands, sliding it through one fist and then the other. “How do you want to come, Bear?” I panted. “In my mouth? My ass?”

  His eyes darkened. “I’ve never come in your ass, and you look far too sweet—and I’m far too eager—to start tonight.”

  “When did any of that stop you before?”

  “You want to play?” he asked. “Flip over.”

  My bravado came from tying the knot, plain and simple. I felt empowered being Manning’s wife. But the truth was, we hadn’t yet ventured into that territory, even though I knew from some of Manning’s heat-of-the-moment dirty talk that he was into it. I’d always figured that day would come, and though Manning had claimed me for real today and was about as turned on as I’d ever seen him, I wasn’t sure our wedding night was the right time for this.

  “What’s wrong, Goldilocks?” he asked, sliding his hands up my thighs and under my dress as he peeled down my thong. “Suddenly scared you wandered into the wrong bear’s house?”

  I shivered, my nipples hardening into firm pink peaks. “I don’t know if I’m ready for . . .”

  “For?”

  “Anal.”

  He grinned devilishly, tossing aside my panties. “You’re not. But get on all fours anyway.”

  I didn’t need to ask myself if I trusted him. If he said we wouldn’t do it tonight, I believed him—but what did he have planned, then? As Manning removed his boots, I got on my hands and knees, turning away from him. “Why am I in this position?”

  “Why do you think?” I heard him whip his belt from its loops, then the rustle of his clothing. “Hike that dress up, Lake.”

  The belt didn’t scare me. He’d sometimes spank me in the heat of the moment, but with his father’s history of violence, he’d never hit me—that much I knew. I pulled my dress up over my backside. Manning had seen me in every position, from every angle, and maybe that was why the wedding dress excited us both—it reintroduced a layer of innocence to our sex life that we’d stripped away years ago.

  He ran his palm over my ass cheek, then gently slapped it. “Mmm.”

  “What was that for?” I asked, already breathless.

  “Allowing someone to play Justin Timberlake at our wedding.”

  I started to laugh as I looked back at him but paused. There was nothing funny about the six-foot-five inches of muscular, buck-naked man about to devour me.

  I bit my bottom lip as he thumbed my folds apart. “We need a taller bed,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can eat you standing up.” He got to his knees, and since his Lake Special was still a little too high for him, he urged my knees apart until I was spread and even with his mouth. “That uncomfortable?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “Then I better be quick.” He licked from my clit to my asshole, humming with satisfaction. Within seconds his tongue was buried inside me. I dropped my cheek to the bedspread, grabbing the fabric in two fists. Pleasure tingled up my spine, my face burning hotter and hotter.

  Manning splayed his fingers on my lower back and pressed the wet tip of his thumb to my asshole. “This okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, partly curious, but mostly too aroused to let him stop.

  He breached the tight opening. His hand was so large, his fingers felt as if they spanned halfway up my back. I wanted his mouth on me again, so I backed onto his hand. “Fuck me, Lake. I could finish myself off just watching you from this angle.”

  “Make me come,” I begged. “However you want.”

  With the slightest pressure, he pushed his thumb inside me, that forbidden spot accepting him easier than I would’ve thought. The snug fit, the rawness of our wedding-night excitement driving us forward, and his tongue back on me as his thumb pumped in and out would’ve normally been enough to make me climax—but right then, I needed more.

  “Manning?”

  “Yeah, Birdy,” he said between my legs, his deep voice vibrating through me.

  “There’s something else I want.”

  “Tell me.”

  I got back up on my arms. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

  “You already do.” He kissed me right on the pussy, tonguing my clit. “So good.”

  I took a breath. He’d already gone caveman on me, but I was ready to bring him to his knees for what I hoped would be the first time over the course of the night. I bit my lip, looking back at him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to tease him, but times like this, he made it so easy. “I want . . .”

  “What?” He arched a dark eyebrow at me. “Can’t read your mind, Lake.”

  “I want you to come so deep inside me, there’s no chance I won’t get pregnant.”

  That did it. His jaw ticked as he set his once hungry, now voracious eyes on me. Drawing his thumb out, he stood. I got up on my knees, holding his gaze as I unzipped the back of my dress and tugged it over my head.

  He took one loo
k at my spotless white lace corset and swallowed. “I was the first to claim your virgin cunt, Lake. Remember?”

  I shuddered before lying back in a show of submission. I nodded breathlessly, even though the answer was absurdly obvious. “You claimed more of me that morning than any other man could in a lifetime.”

  He grabbed me under the knees and yanked me to the edge of the bed. “Don’t talk about other men when I’m in this state,” he warned. “You gave me your heart first, then your body, didn’t you, sweet girl? Nobody else got anything.”

  I shook my head on the mattress, my body vibrating with an intense need only he could fill. “Make it official, Great Bear,” I said, echoing my demand for a kiss at the altar. “Take what now belongs to you.”

  He gritted his teeth. “You were always mine, and you’re really fucking mine now.”

  I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Manning made good on his promises of marathon fucking. When he wasn’t telling me he couldn’t get enough of his new wife, he was showing me—hour after hour until the sun rose.

  And I knew in my gut—there was no chance we hadn’t conceived.

  Bear and Birdy

  Spring 2010

  13

  One spring evening, something in the air changed. Without actual evidence, I knew we were in labor. I should’ve had some idea how long it’d been happening, but I’d been conveniently pretending the pregnancy didn’t even exist.

  Standing at the kitchen sink, I inhaled back a film of tears. I saw Manning before he saw me. He stood at the mouth of the stable, dusk settling around him while he raised his cell as if checking for reception. I could still turn out the kitchen lights and pretend I hadn’t come home. That I’d stayed late for an emergency operation, or had stopped by a friend’s, or been held up by car trouble. Not that Manning would fall for any of that. Lying to him was nearly impossible, not to mention I owned a perfectly functioning car thanks to his frequent tune-ups.

  Manning fisted his hair, then turned to look through the window. Through me. I’d hesitated too long over whether to stay, but Manning didn’t waste a second. He started toward the house.

  I flipped off the faucet. I hadn’t remembered washing my hands, but of course I’d known, somewhere inside, that I wouldn’t leave Blue to do this on her own. I didn’t want to, not really.

  I dried my hands on a dishtowel as Manning came through the screen door. “I’ve been calling you,” he said.

  “I turned off my phone this afternoon.”

  “I hate when you do that.”

  “I had a lot of work to catch up on,” I said. “The faster I get it done, the faster I can come home. Interruptions slow me down.”

  He crossed his arms. “Some interruptions are worth it.”

  He wasn’t happy with me, and I didn’t blame him. These past couple months, though, knowing I was in the wrong hadn’t motivated me to change my attitude. Life continued to test us. After some bad news from my doctor, I couldn’t muster any excitement about someone else’s pregnancy—not even my dog’s.

  “I know you’re still angry at me,” Manning continued, “but she’s in labor. She needs you.”

  My throat thickened the way it had moments ago when I’d come into an empty house and felt the shift. I’d been expecting it anyway, considering Blue had lost her appetite days ago.

  She needs you.

  Blue had needed me for a while, and I’d failed her during her entire pregnancy. I had a choice—go outside and face the truth, or turn and walk away. The latter was much easier, but it was what I’d been doing the past few weeks, and my mood hadn’t improved.

  “I’ll get my things,” I said.

  “I tried to get her to come in the guest bathroom. I set up a box with clean towels and shredded cardboard like you told me, but I couldn’t get her to move.”

  “She’s never spent any time in there. That’s not where she’s comfortable.”

  “You might’ve mentioned that weeks ago when you saw me getting it ready.” He stuck his cell in his back pocket. “Is she okay out in the stable?”

  “She’s an animal, Manning. If her instinct is to be there, then she’s fine. You can move the box outside.” I turned to leave the room. “And grab a flashlight or something. It’ll be dark soon.”

  I got the whelping kit I’d stocked from a shelf in the garage. Even though Manning had been on edge about everything—the pregnancy, the birth, and what we’d do with the litter—I hadn’t mentioned that I’d been preparing.

  I went out back to the nearly finished stable, where Manning leaned in one of the stalls. He’d brought the whelping bed with him, but Blue had already created a nest of hay in one corner, where she lay panting on her side.

  “She looks uncomfortable,” Manning said as I moved around him.

  “Well, she’s in labor.”

  I took a step toward her. Blue’s eyes shifted to me, but otherwise, she didn’t move, not even to wag her tail. “You all right, Blue girl?”

  Manning came up beside me. “What can I do?”

  “Just stay back and out of the way,” I replied.

  “Hey.” He took my elbow, turning me to face him. “I don’t know why you’re still so angry after this long, but there’s no reason to snap at me.”

  He was right as usual. Manning had every reason to be fed up with me. I wasn’t done being upset, though. With my eyes down, I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to argue in front of Blue. It’ll stress her out.”

  Manning released my arm, but his frown stayed with me as I kneeled down. “Hey, girl,” I said, slowly reaching out to see if she’d let me pet her. Her tail twitched, relief in her eyes.

  That was all I needed to feel the weight of a guilt I’d been avoiding. Up until now, it’d been easy to make this all about me, but seeing Blue this way meant I’d have to put my own insecurities aside.

  I pulled on rubber gloves, thinking back to five weeks earlier when Manning had called me out back because Blue had thrown up twice on their morning walk. I’d taken one look at her pink nipples and swollen belly and turned to a concerned Manning. “She’s pregnant.”

  He’d grinned. “Really?”

  Looking back, the pregnancy itself irritated me, but it was the excitement in Manning’s voice that’d quickly gotten under my skin. “Yes, really,” I’d said. “I’ve been asking you for months to bring her by the hospital so I could spay her. Who the hell is the sire?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Jesus, Manning. You’re the one who’s here with her all day.” There were no dogs I knew of in the immediate area. When had Blue even had the opportunity to get knocked up? Manning and I fucked every chance we got and had nothing to show for it but a couple UTIs, a collapsed work table, and an excessive lingerie bill thanks to Manning’s proclivity for ripping lace underwear. I’d shaken my head. “Just—never mind.”

  “Are you upset that’s she’s pregnant?” he’d asked.

  “Am I upset? Of course I am,” I’d snapped. “There are hundreds of abandoned pets in our county alone, forget the thousands and millions around the world. We’re contributing to overpopulation. If we wanted more dogs, we should’ve gone and rescued them.”

  Manning had pulled back, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Okay, but it didn’t happen that way. Your dog is pregnant. You love animals. You're a vet. How are you not happy about this?”

  The licensed vet I’d worked under almost a year constantly reminded the staff to tell our clients to spay and neuter. Since our own pets were a daily topic of conversation, I’d have to admit that I hadn’t done it yet. “It’s irresponsible,” I’d said, then left to get ready for work.

  Tonight, for the first time, I tried to summon some excitement about the fact that there were puppies on the way. I patted Blue’s rump and pulled out my thermometer.

  “Everything looks normal,” I said, sensing Manning hovering. “Her water should break soon. You could get her something to drink.�
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  “Sure,” he said, his boots crunching on straw as he left.

  Alone with the Blue, I spoke in soft tones, soothing her as I lifted her tail to take her temperature. Really, she didn’t need my help. In fact, aside from stepping back and monitoring the births, there wasn’t really anything Manning or I could do. Still, I was glad I’d come home. I wanted to be there for her. Blue was my first real pet, Manning’s, too, and she meant the world to both of us. Even if Manning didn’t understand my anger, I knew, deep down, it wasn’t because we hadn’t spayed Blue like we should’ve. I was also to blame for assuming she was never around other dogs when she had acres of land to herself. After the initial shock of the pregnancy had worn off, my embarrassment over not spaying her had become a small part of why I was so upset.

  Irrational as it was, all Blue’s pregnancy had done was remind me I wasn’t pregnant. And she was just the latest in a string of brutal reminders. Tiffany was due next month. A receptionist at the doctor’s office had recently announced she was having twins. My regular checker at the grocery store had left on maternity leave. Not to mention I often administered prenatal check-ups on animals, ordered ultrasounds, and occasionally assisted in deliveries.

  Everybody was getting pregnant.

  Every single woman and animal could get pregnant.

  And then there was me.

  Weeks before finding out about Blue, I’d secretly gone to see my gynecologist after a few months of abnormally painful menstrual cramps. Manning and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year. The instinct I’d had that we’d conceived had flipped to a gut feeling that something was wrong. Manning continued to reassure me he wasn’t worried, yet he’d been smoking a lot, sometimes disappearing out back in the middle of the night when he thought I was sleeping. I couldn’t blame him for being upset, but even if I asked, I doubted he’d admit he was disappointed things were taking so long.

  Now I had an answer.

  “I’m concerned you’re infertile, Mrs. Sutter.”

  A pelvic exam and ultrasound had revealed ovarian cysts. My doctor suspected a blocked fallopian tube—my body was keeping Manning’s sperm from fertilizing my eggs. Given all that, plus the amount of time we’d been trying, endometriosis was my likely diagnosis. Manning and I had thought we’d moved the stars, but fate would get the last laugh. I hadn’t even begun to think about how I’d break the news to him. I wanted to have a solution before I told him—some way of easing the blow. Maybe even a second opinion. Until then, it was easier to be angry, to take it out on him and Blue, to pretend there’d been no ultrasound, no results, and no bad news.