Page 16

16

RICHARD

Shit. She’s crying.

Because of me.

I sigh in frustration as I take two steps forward.

“Amelia…” I reach for her, but she pulls away, shooting those crestfallen eyes on me like lasers.

“I need my car,” she mewls. “I can’t afford a new one, and I can’t put any of you out any more than?—”

“Stop,” I say, my hands sliding over her arms as I pull her over to the couch in the corner.

Dane and Tripp have their spaces in the house, but my space has always been the garage. Maybe it’s because my dad and I used to work on cars together when I was younger. Before he passed away. Maybe it’s just because when my brain is going a mile a minute, it’s the one place no one bothers me, who the hell knows.

But I’m thankful right now for the privacy, because I know Dane would probably be a basket case if he saw Amelia sobbing right now.

My brother is tightly wound. Always has been.

But both Tripp and I know he’s different when it comes to Amelia. Tightly wound becomes practically bordering on asphyxiation.

“Sit down,” I say sternly as I pull her to the couch. She looks like she wants to fight me. Argue with me. But she doesn’t, and that is a start.

She sits down, crossing her legs as she sniffles, looking away from me.

It’s stupid, because I hate it when women cry, but she looks fucking cute like this. Pouting, tears streaming down her face. My cock echoes the sentiment, my lizard brain nodding in agreement as images surface of Amelia staring up at me with tearful eyes while choking on my cock.

What is wrong with me? This is so not appropriate right now!

I clear my throat. “I promise you no one feels put out having you here. We’re glad to help.”

She pouts, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, and my cock twitches.

Fuck me sideways.

“My being here is already throwing a monkey wrench into your lives. You have jobs, you have your own responsibilities, you can’t just?—”

“We’ll work around it, baby girl. It will all be fine, I promise.” The sincerity in my voice is not lost on me.

I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. Her skin is warm. Soft. Her hand is so small compared to mine.

She sniffles, and instinctively I reach out and brush some tears away with my knuckle. The couch dips and suddenly I realize how close we actually are. Her bright blue eyes flash up at me and the leather groans between us.

“I want to believe you,” she says. My thumb slides through the wetness on her cheek and she leans into my touch, her clouded eyes imploring me like a little lost kitten.

How could Dex destroy someone like this? What the fuck is wrong with him?

“That’s because I don’t lie, Amelia. I will always shoot straight with you.”

She bites her lip, nodding, and I am powerless to resist her. I lean in without thinking, capturing her lips with my own.

She startles, but only for a second before she relaxes into me. Her mouth parts just the slightest as her breath catches, and just as I think she’s going to pull away or punch me or…something, she doesn’t.

She kisses me back.

Fuck, she kisses me back.

And it’s like a switch has been flipped, a fire ignited.

I lean forward and Amelia falls back against the arm of the couch, the leather creaking beneath us as my body settles on top of her. My cock strains in my pants as our hands move fast, our lips crashing together like a tidal wave. Her breaths come in hard and fast as my lips trail over her neck and she thrusts herself up against me.

“Richie,” she breathes, and I can hear the panic mixed with lust in her voice. My cock throbs at the sound. I like how my name sounds on her tongue. Breathy. Desperate.

“I got you, baby girl,” I tell her, my mouth finding hers once more. “If you want me stop, I’ll stop, Amelia. Just say the word,” I whisper as my lips find her ear.

She lets out a sigh as she thrusts herself against my hardness and I can’t stifle my groan.

“Please don’t stop…” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m not sure I could handle that right now.”

I can’t help but grin, but her sniffles seem to have stopped at least.

So I do exactly what she asks. I keep going.

I pull away and gaze down at her. At her kiss-swollen lips, her flushed cheeks. Her glistening eyes.

Fuck, she’s so beautiful it hurts.

Literally. I’m so hard it hurts.

My hand slides down over her breasts, my fingers pinching her nipples through the fabric, and she nearly flies off the couch. I can’t help but chuckle. If she wasn’t moaning while she did so, I’d think I hurt her. But judging by the way her nipples peak through the fabric of her shirt and her rushed breaths, I know hurt is the opposite of what she feels.

So I do it again, relishing in the moan that escapes her.

“You like that, baby girl?” I ask as she nods.

“Y-yes,” she says. Her skin is warm beneath my palm as I slide my hand underneath her shirt, pulling her bra to the side slowly until her breast is fully exposed. I let my fingers slide over the heavy swell, cupping her breast in my hand. Judging by the feel alone and how heavy she is in my hand, I know she has perfect tits. Round, full. I flick her stiff, peaked nipple with my thumb, feeling the hardened skin that’s also faintly wet. Her breathing increases and with that, so does the rise and fall of her breast in my hand. I pinch her nipple with my fingers, her wetness seeping into my skin. I know that shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.

My cock presses against my pants, strained as all hell. I feel the beginnings of precum beading at my head and I know if I’m not careful, I’ll regret it.

“Have you ever come from just having your tits played with, Amelia?”

She lets out a curse under her breath as she shakes her head.

“No, can’t say I have,” she says, her breath shaking.

I grin, grabbing her and settling her against the couch until I’m able to push up her shirt, her body beneath mine warm and solid. I push her shirt up to her neck with one arm, holding her in place as I find her other breast and push the cup to the side so both of her breasts are on full display.

Fuck, I was right. Her tits are perfect.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” I say as I flick one pert nipple with my thumb, and she lets out a breathy moan that goes straight to my cock. “After all, in my experience, a good orgasm helps reduce stress.”

I pull her stiff, wet nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her breaths come in fast. I absentmindedly adjust myself, knowing this isn’t about me.

But I don’t miss the way her hazy eyes glance at me as I do so.

“And I think you’ve been very stressed lately,” I say as I lean closer to her, dragging my lips against hers.

She thrusts herself up against me again, her tongue sliding into my mouth, and I meet it with ample acceptance. My lips trail over her neck, brushing against the collar where her shirt is bunched.

“Would you like that, baby girl?” I ask, my voice dark to my own ears. “Would you like to come for Daddy?”

The deep moan that escapes her throat elicits one of my own that I am powerless to resist.

“Y-yes,” she says. Her voice is shaky, not as if she’s unsure, but as if she is sure and afraid of what that means.

But here, with me, she doesn’t have to worry. I need her to know that.

“Mmm. Then I guess what baby girl wants, she gets.”

I use one hand to cup her left breast, pulling her nipple between my fingers as I swipe my tongue across the one in front of me.

Her entire back arches as she sucks in a breath. “Oh my God, Richie!”

I chuckle from the sound of her voice and from the flush in her cheeks.

“Too much?” I ask. Her gaze meets mine, and the pink flush in her cheeks combined with those kiss-swollen lips and bright blue eyes is like something out of my wildest dreams.

Fuck, she is going to be the death of me. I can feel it.

She swallows, trying to catch her breath. “Do it again?” she squeaks.

I grin and wordlessly bring my mouth down to her breast and lick her again, and she shudders beneath me. But this time she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her fingers find my hair and she grabs onto it, her head falling back as her eyes close, and I just know. She’s close.

I take her nipple into my mouth and bite as gently as I can, then flick my tongue out for a lick, and finish by wrapping my lips tightly around and sucking hard, and her grip in my hair tightens as well as her body beneath me. I grind against her, needing to feel the friction. I’m so fucking hard and wet, I know I won’t be far behind her.

“That’s it. Be a good girl and come for Daddy,” I whisper against her flesh as I repeat the motion. Bite. Lick. Suck.

My other hand continues to give attention to her other breast and her breath catches in her throat as I lavish her with the attention she deserves. The strangled sound that escapes her throat is like music to my ears, and her entire body tenses beneath me for the briefest moment before she relaxes and lets out a deep moan. I lift my head to watch her. Her expression goes slack as her hand in my hair loosens, and I smile.

She’s so pretty when she comes. For me.

“Such a good girl,” I whisper as I find my way to her mouth, kissing her once more. I slide my tongue into her mouth and she lets out the softest sigh of relief.

“Amelia, you in here?” Dane’s voice calls out, and she tenses like a lighting rod.

She breaks away from my mouth, eyes wide in alarm, and pushes me away with one hand on my chest, and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

But fuck, it hurts.

“Amelia…” I breathe her name and I can hear the sadness in it. Fuck me all to hell.

“I need to go,” she says, shaking her head as she stuffs her perfect breasts back into her bra and fixes her shirt. All I can do is sit back on my couch, my strained, aching cock weeping with interest and sadness because she’s leaving us.

Fuck! I should not have done that. I should have been more careful, I should have?—

“There you are.” Dane comes through the door, shaking some dark hair out of his eyes. “Richie.” He nods at me and I shift my position on the couch, crossing my legs to quell my hardness, to hide it.

I know Dane is…possessive of Amelia, even if he doesn’t say it. I see the way he looks at Tripp, which is a whole other problem.

I don’t know how serious things are between Tripp and Amelia, but I know it’s more than apparent that there’s something going on between them, which only makes me feel like shit even more. If she’s seeing Tripp, I should respect that. I should not be sucking her tits and making her come in my damn garage.

But I guess I’m not as good a man as I thought I was, because that’s exactly what I just fucking did and I don’t feel sorry about it.

“Dinner’s ready, when you are,” Dane says, flashing her a soft, puppy-eyed grin.

I meant what I said to Amelia. I don’t have a problem with her or her daughter staying here. Even if I do know how my brothers feel, even if I know how I feel.

I know as intense as we can all be when it comes to the situation—when it comes to our feelings for Amelia on our own—at least we can all come together to agree to give her what she needs. A place to take care of herself and her baby. A place for her to relax and breathe.

I need to remember that’s what’s going on here.

I need to be better about resisting my fucking desires and hers.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I watch her cross her arms in front of her chest and smile at Dane.

“Oh, I’m starving,” she says as he motions for her to follow him. I watch as she does, and neither her or Dane wait for me.

I’m not sure how to feel about that. It’s not like Dane, Tripp and I have family dinner every night or anything. Usually Dane cooks, and leaves dinner out until eight. We know we can swing by whenever to get a plate, and if it’s cleaned up by the time we get there, we all know how to use the microwave or the air fryer.

As soon as the door shuts, I collapse back on the couch.

My cock still throbs, and I know this little issue is not going away any time soon.

I close my eyes, letting out a heavy sigh, knowing there’s really only one way to fix this, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty as hell about it.

I unbutton my jeans, unzip my zipper, and pull out my heavy cock with one hand while I use my free hand to slide my shirt up enough to give myself a clear spot to catch my load.

My cock bobs freely, gleaming with precum, one sticky string hanging between the top and my briefs. I slide my thumb through it, covering my head with my palm and rubbing it, spreading it along my shaft like lube.

“Fuck,” I hiss as my head hits the back of the cushion. My hips thrust of their own accord as my hand builds its rhythm. I close my eyes, remembering moments ago, Amelia with those perfect tits on display. So full, so sensitive to my touch and attention.

I remember the faint taste of sweetness in my mouth, the soft feel of skin against my palm. The taste of her tongue in my mouth. The way she kept grinding herself against my aching cock.

Remembering how she reacted to my words. My touch.

The thought of her rubbing that sweet little pussy against me without a barrier between us makes my balls draw up tight.

The thought of filling her so full of my cum and watching it slide down her thighs is what does me in.

“Oh, fuck!” I cry out as I come. Hard and fast. I hold my cock against my stomach, the wet, hot spurts decorating my abs, clear up to my chest.

The sigh of relief that leaves me is as guilty as it is euphoric.

I catch my breath, staring at the ceiling. How the fuck am I supposed to do this? Walk into that kitchen and see Amelia and her sweet blue eyes, those perfect lips…

How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t know what she looks like when she comes undone? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t want her? Dane’s already freaking out about Tripp. I don’t need him angry and agitated because I want her too.

And I know, without a doubt, I do want her. I don’t know if it’s a breeding kink thing or if it’s an Amelia thing. I’ve never been with a woman who actually had a kid before, let alone one who’s still fucking breastfeeding.

All I know is I’ve never found myself so fucking hard from sucking a woman’s tits before. Not even my ex-wife’s.

Not that she let me suck her tits often or anything. She thought it was weird, so it wasn’t something that happened a lot, but I know my way around breasts the same way I know my way around pussy. Always have. Twenty-four-year-olds like Tripp don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Thirty-two-year-olds like Dane are more focused, but usually complacent and not as open to new things, because they’ve figured out what works and they just keep repeating the same recipes.

But a forty-five-year-old divorced man? I’ve spent years cultivating and honing my fucking craft and owning my shit. I know the right buttons to push, and Amelia seemed more than responsive to the buttons I was pushing.

I need to forget about what happened. I know that. If not for me, then for Amelia. I don’t want her to feel awkward or weird staying here. With us.

With me.

Because of me.

So, I tuck myself back into my pants and grab a rag from the counter and wipe myself up. I take my time making myself look as presentable as possible.

And when I walk into the kitchen at seven fifteen, I’m relieved to see a plate on the counter waiting for me, but Amelia is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps that’s for the best.

Right?

I don’t know where Dane and Amelia have wandered off to, but I don’t look for them. Part of me feels jealous, even though I know there’s no need to be. This is now her home, and I’m sure there’s a lot to get used to. A lot to see and acquaint herself with.

I’m just about ready to sit down and dive into the chicken, vegetables, and mashed potatoes that was left out for me when I hear a soft wail.

Lyla. I wait for a moment, expecting Dane or Amelia to soothe her, but she continues to cry. And cry.

The sound grates on me. I hate it when anyone cries, especially babies.

They’re so loud.

I set my food down and get up, figuring wherever Amelia or Dane are, they must not be in the house because there’d be no way not to hear this kid. She’s got some powerful lungs, for sure.

I head down the hall to the guest room Dane sectioned off as Lyla’s makeshift nursery. The library. Or I guess technically it’s Dane’s “reading room.”

Sometimes, if it wasn’t for his obvious twin aesthetics, I’d swear he was swapped at birth.

I enter the room, which looks strangely warmer with Lyla’s crib next to the giant reading sofa chair. Carefully, I approach her crib. I peek over the rails, seeing her pink face and little balled fists. She’s pissed.

But I guess I can’t blame her. I’d be pissed too if I couldn’t speak or tell people what I was feeling and all I could do was cry.

I sigh, knowing there’s only one way to quiet a screaming baby. I’d be lying if I said I liked the idea. But I also know this is likely something I’m going to have to get used to.

So I tell myself I’m doing it for Amelia. For Lyla.

I can push aside my feelings to give them what they need, right?

“Come here, sweetheart,” I mutter as I reach in and pick her up.

She’s lighter than I thought she’d be. Barely weighs anything. It’s like picking up a baby doll. A wriggling, moving baby doll.

She looks at me with tear-filled blue eyes, her face so pink and wet with tears I actually feel bad. I carefully lay her on my chest, since that’s something I hear helps. She squirms, kicking her feet against me, her fists balled on my shoulder as I splay my hand across her back while the other cups her tiny butt. Seriously, it’s tiny.

She’s so fucking little, and I feel like I’m going to break her if I squeeze her too hard. So instead, I run my hand up her back, hoping it helps.

It doesn’t.

She cries.

“It’s…okay. You’re okay,” I tell her, but I don’t think she understands English yet. Still, I try.

I shift my weight back and forth and that seems to help, so I keep doing it.

It feels weird. Really fucking weird, but also it’s not so bad.

She settles just a fraction, her cries lessening the more I move, so I keep that up.

She stops squirming too.

I glance down at her to see she’s staring at me with pristine blue eyes that are so round and big it looks almost uncanny. Her long eyelashes are dark and thick. She looks a lot like Amelia, but I can also see Dex. It’s strange and makes me wonder what kind of details and traits would be different if it was my DNA. Not that I’ll ever know, because I can’t have kids. I don’t want them. Never have. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wonder in vain what my kid would look like.

I’m pretty sure everyone wonders that.

Seeing those little bits of Rose genetics peeking through in Lyla is both fascinating and weird.

“See, I’m not so bad,” I tell her with a smirk. Her little eyes light up and she kicks her feet against my chest. “You good now?” I ask, even though I know she can’t answer me. She’s a baby, for God’s sakes, but it feels like talking to her is what I should do. She needs to learn my voice. Learn who I am. That she can trust me.

She is my niece, after all.

She lets out a little chirping sound as she squirms in my grasp.

“Alright, then. No more screaming, okay?” I settle her back down, careful as I hold her little writhing body. When I set her down, she stares up at me with bright blue eyes and a smile that is all Amelia. “Okay, then. Good talk.” When I turn around to leave, I’m met with familiar sparkling blue eyes.

Amelia.

She stares at me where I stand and I feel strangely on display. My body heats and panic swells in my chest. I know that look she has on her face. I’ve seen it plenty of times. I shouldn’t have come in here. I shouldn’t have…

So I say nothing as I walk out of Lyla’s room, past Amelia, and into the kitchen. I grab my plate and head to the garage, where no one will bother me.

And I stay there all fucking night, until I fall asleep on the couch.