Page 64 of Stowaway Whirlwind
“Please, Daddy!” She sobs as I continue to thrust in and out of her. I have no intention of letting up, trying to work her into a third release, when she cries out, “Stop. Stop!”
I instantly remove my fingers, and Goldie sags against the swing, her body twitching uncontrollably. I scoop her up and hold her curled on my lap when I once again trade places with her. Goldie circles my neck with her arms and presses her face into the crook, her tears wetting my skin while I hold her, rubbing my hand up and down her back beneath her hoodie, kissing the top of her head every few seconds.
My voice is low when I ask after a minute or so, “Are you ok, honey?”
She nods and shifts higher on my lap, accidentally tugging on my dick, making me hiss. The damn thing attempts to harden, but I grit my teeth and ignore it.
I drop my voice lower. “Rule number four,” I remind her.No lying.
Goldie nods and combs her fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck. I hold her silently, continuing to rub her back for as long as it takes for her to calm.
She takes a long, deep breath, then sits up straighter. “That was amazing.” Her voice is scratchy, her throat sore after the way I fucked it, but with her lips now brushing mine, I know she’s smiling.
My heart beats fast. “Yeah? It wasn’t too much? Too hard?”
She nips my bottom lip. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I laugh and nip her back—a little love bite. But I’m not laughing anymore when Goldie readjusts on my lap to straddle my thighs, rubbing her wet pussy back and forth along my cock until I’m fully erect. We both suck in shuddery breaths when she lowers herself, taking me inside her to the hilt. Though our lovemaking is just as pleasurable as when we’re rough with each other, our connection is even more intense as my future wife slowly rides me, never once breaking our sensually slow kiss until we cum together.
I help Goldie onto her feet, watching with satisfaction as my cum slowly slips down her thighs after she steps back into the light through the window. We both whip our heads to the side when the flood lights flick on as a small gray sedan comes to a stop on our driveway. It’s not one that either of us recognizes, and we’re not expecting anyone at this time of night.
I yank my sweatpants up and push Goldie toward the front door. “Get in the house!” I’ve got my phone unlocked, ready to dial 9-1-1 before she’s even opened the door when the car starts backing up. The only thing we can see through the windshield is a pale hand giving us a short wave like a friendly neighbor would do when we pass each other on the road.
Goldie rests her hand in the middle of my back, standing in the open doorway. “Think they were just using our driveway to turn around?”
“Maybe,” I say. It’s the only way to make a U-turn on this stretch of the two-lane road, though people don’t usually have to come this far up the driveway. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
I set the house alarm, check the security cameras positioned above the garage, and write down the car’s license plate, wishing we had a clear view of the driver through the windshield. While Goldie is in our room, checking on Lily and cleaning herself up,I call the county’s non-emergency line to report what happened, asking if they can look up who owns the vehicle.
Right before I end the call, I finally pinpoint what it is that makes me doubt the U-turn theory the most—the car’s headlights were off.
* * *
The next morning, Dr. Patel’s bedside manner keeps slipping, shooting me quick glares every few minutes throughout Goldie’s six-week checkup. It started when I tried to position the extra chair at the end of the examination table with Goldie’s feet up in the stirrups, more curious than anything else about what goes on during these types of appointments. It ended with her giving me a scathing lecture about safe sex for recovering mothers.
Goldie wraps the paper gown tighter around her torso after Dr. Patel helps her to sit up, color high in her cheeks. “But you said I couldn’t get pregnant if I was breastfeeding, especially if I haven’t gotten my period back yet.”
Dr. Patel gentles her voice when she tells her, “I said it’s amyththat you can’t get pregnant while breastfeeding, even if you haven’t started your first period.”
Goldie blinks. “Am I just the dumbest—how the hell did I screw that up?”
Dr. Patel’s warm and professional bedside manner is back in full force when she pats Goldie’s hand and says, “You’re not dumb, Marigold. It can be overwhelming the amount of information we give new parents before they’re sent home, especially when they haven’t been given the proper amount of time to recover in the hospital.” Dr. Patel pinches her lips when she looks at me. “You, however…”
Goldie looks back and forth between us. “Why did you say it like that?”
“I know Davis heard me just fine. In fact, he repeated it back.”
Now they’re both looking at me like I kicked a puppy. I have no excuse, so I choose to wrinkle my nose and say, “I think someone needs a diaper change.” I nod to Lily in my arms and stand with the diaper bag, escaping the room before either woman can call me out on my bullshit.
It’s just my luck that Lily blows out her diaper on the way down the wide hallway toward the glass-walled reception area, liquid yellow baby shit running down my forearms. I’d like to think I have a strong stomach, but I gag quite a bit while cleaning her and myself up. She’s the lucky one who gets to change into a brand new, clean outfit while I have to settle for shrugging off my top and attempting to wash my undershirt one-handed with hand soap from the dispenser.
Goldie taps her boot repeatedly against the white vinyl flooring, leaning against the mural of Texas landmarks on the wall opposite the bathroom door. She lets out a short burst of laughter, though, when she sees me looking like the puppy who got kicked.
“That’s what you get.” Her face hardens the next moment. “And this is what I get,” she says, holding up a printed sheet of paper.
“What’s that?” I reach for it, but she jerks away.
“It’s my prescription for birth control.”
