Page 5 of Deprived No More

The Sievers’ have two kids about Grace’s age. Their children, Lilly and Annabelle, are smart and well-behaved. They’re usually quite withdrawn when I’ve seen them, only speaking when spoken to, unlike our house where you can barely get a word in around the kids.

I can’t say I’d put it past Jonas to have a heavy hand in disciplining the kids. He’s very matter-of-fact and sometimes can come across as rigid. Susanna seems his opposite. She’s much like the classroom mothers I remember bringing treats and games to school on special occasions. It makes me wonder if Lilly and Annabelle’s quiet, thoughtful disposition is part of the girls’ genetics or a product of their upbringing.

When you’ve built your family through nontraditional means, you can’t help but ponder questions like these more than the average parent. Whether through adoption or the foster care system, our kids were a gift. A blessing I’ll never take for granted. Sure, I’ve often wondered what our biological children might have been like. Would they have had Kat’s big brown eyes and her quick wit? Or maybe lighter hair and green eyes like mine. Would they have taken to soccer as I did growing up, or perhaps been born with my mom’s green thumb? Try as we might, our garden has only flourished because of the tender loving care of my father. Well, and my ‘little brother’ Gavin. That kid has turned into quite the horticulturist. It’s like it’s in his DNA. Maybe he got that from his dad’s genes because I don’t see Gavin’s mom as the outdoor type.

Slam.

Again, the sound of Jonas’ screen porch door closing behind him shakes me out of my tranquil musings. Hell, how long have I been out here? Looking down at my Movado, a gift from my beautiful wife, the time reads 9:15. Standing to my full height, I stretch my arms overhead and take in a full breath of clean, crisp air. I chuckle as two squirrels chase each other into the trees as the water laps against the dock below. I really have it all. My beautiful family, my career, and this magical place I call home.

Depositing my high ball glass in the sink, I head to our bedroom to take a shower before joining Kat. A smile crosses my face as I hear Kat and Grace giggling over whatever they’re reading tonight. Unbuttoning my shirt, I make my way to the shower and feel contentment most only dream of. Standing under the hot stream of water, I consider all that I have to be grateful for.

A chuckle escapes as I realize my showers weren’t always a place of grateful appreciation. There was a time that no matter how hard I tried to fight it, images of Katarina continually invaded the space, practically torturing me. I knew I’d encountered an attraction I couldn’t shake from the moment I met her. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to find any sexual release without picturing her, the shower being our clandestined, virtual hookup spot. I laugh at the memory, giving my growing dick a stroke. Who knew when I was visualizing Katarina on her knees in my shower that the reality would be so much better?

Turning off the water, I step out of the shower, grab a thick white towel, and dry my body and hair before looking in the mirror.Not bad for approaching my mid-forties.Flexing my torso in the reflection, I decide more trips to the gym are in order. Not that I’m feeling competitive, but Holden Knight, I’m not. That guy looks like something out of a men’s magazine. Shaking my head at the ridiculous interruption in my otherwise pleasant evening, I brush my teeth, run my hand through my tousled wet hair, and proceed to join Kat.

Exiting the bathroom, I see Katarina’s beautiful back facing me. She’s lying on her side, her glossy dark hair tumbling down her neck and back, exposing her left shoulder and the curve of her spine. I stroll to the door to ensure it’s locked and drop my towel as I approach the bed. Yet as I look down at her, my heart sinks. She’s asleep.

CHAPTERTHREE

Nick

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Rolling toward my cell, I attempt to stop the alarm as it dances across the bedside table. 5:40 am. You’d think I’d be used to awakening at this hour after all these years. Perhaps the hour I lost last night in my frustration at wanting to have Katarina, only to find her asleep, had something to do with my overly tired and aggravated state. Jacking off with your wife inches from you is less than satisfying.

I couldn’t possibly wake her. She does so much for the kids. And honestly, she manages everything in my life outside of my surgical practice. The bills, the groceries, and keeping up with the kids’ school and appointments all happen because of her. I’m the lucky devil who gets to roll in and revel in the good stuff. That was the thought I finally settled on as I fisted my cock so I could get to sleep.

Turning toward her, my ever-present morning wood juts into her backside.Hmm, wonder if there’s time to make up for last night with a quick romp before the kids are awake?Mornings start early in the Barnes household, given their school is a good forty-minute drive from our home. Once the torrent of activity starts, getting ready for school, there’s no way to fit anything sexual in before I have to head to work.

Sliding Kat’s hair off of her shoulder, I place my lips on her soft skin and wince.What the hell?Laying my hand across her cheek, I discover she’s burning up. “Kat, wake up, baby.”

“What?”

“You’re so hot.”

“You’re hot too,” she answers, sounding as if she’s still half asleep. Her voice sounds brittle and parched, more than the usual sexy morning gravel that greets me daily.

“No, kitten. Your skin is hot to the touch. It feels like you have a fever. Were you feeling bad yesterday?”

“I don’t think so. Just tired. But that’s nothing new.” She lets out a yawn, never opening her eyes, and I wonder if she’s drifted back to sleep.

“I’m getting you Tylenol and some water.” Jumping from the bed, I go to the dresser to find boxers and a shirt before bolting toward the kitchen. We’ve been blessed with good health, so an occasional cold shouldn’t be concerning. I sort through the cabinets and cannot locate a thermometer. It’s surprising to see my girl with a fever. And she’s such a hands-on mom. I instantly cringe, picturing each of the kids developing a similar fate.

Pouring a large cup of ice water and gathering two fever-reducing capsules, I head back to Kat’s side. Squatting down on one knee, I place the water down on her bedside table and slide my hand beneath her head to assist her in taking the pills, so she won’t bring down her temp by dumping the full glass onto her chest. Her hair is damp against my palm, little droplets of sweat beading her brow.

“Come on, baby. Take these pills and drink up. We’ve got to get this fever down.”

“Hmmm,” she murmurs as she narrowly opens her eyes.

“I’m going to call work and let them know I won’t be coming in.”

“What? No, Nick. I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

“Katarina, you look terrible.”

“Why, thanks. I went from hot to terrible in a snap. I’ll get a shower. I’m sure I’ll feel better once the pills kick in. Don’t reschedule your patients because of this, Nick. Honestly, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’ll at least let them know I’ll be late so I can get the kids to school and daycare. I’m sure they’ll accommodate us under the circumstances.” It’s not Olivia’s usual day to attend, but there’s no way I can leave her here with Kat.

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