Page 54 of Parker

Nicky

Evan’s soft snores echo from the baby monitor to my side. He finally drifted off ten minutes ago. Joel has been upstairs with him for almost an hour, rocking him as he would nod off, then wail, refusing to let sleep take hold.

The pipe creaks in the wall, an old sound in a modern world signaling Joel turning on the shower.

For a moment, I think about going upstairs to join him, but we’ve not been intimate since before my attempt at being a hero.

My confidence wavers, so I stay where I am, sitting on the sofa in one of his t-shirts.

His body has taken a few weeks to heal from his injuries. He’s still bandaged, but the way he moved today told me he was feeling better. The noise from the pipe stops, then minutes later, I hear the padding of bare soles on the stairs.

Joel appears, shirtless, skin still wet from his shower. He has wrapped a white towel around his waist and curls, still damp, flop onto his forehead. His eyes land on me like I’m the thing he came down for.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

I bite my lip, his unexpected compliment making me giddy.

“This is where you belong.” He strolls over, and I pat the cushion beside me. “Here with me, in our home.”

As he lowers himself to sit, the towel around him splits, exposing his muscular thigh. He catches me staring, taking my chin between his strong fingers, raising my eyes to his. “Eyes on me,” he whispers. “Fiancée. That ring means something.”

Joel presented me with a brand-new engagement ring a few days ago. Handmade and perfectly simple. A silver band with one diamond. He refused to let me wear my original rings. A new beginning needs a new symbol.

“Fiancée,” I repeat, my face still in his grip. “That sounds good.”

“Wife sounds better.”

His free hand moves to the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing. He nudges upward toward my waist, exposing more of my legs. His eyes track every inch of my skin, like he’s burning it into his memory. My mouth dries. I know how this is going to end.

With one arm still bandaged, Joel isn’t at full fitness. But the bulge beneath his towel says otherwise.

“You nervous?” he asks, green eyes holding mine.

“A little.”

“Me too. But I want this. I want you, tonight.”

I swing one leg over his lap, straddling him slowly. The towel bunches beneath me as I settle onto him. His good hand slips beneath the t-shirt, his fingers hooking into the lace of my thong.

“Let me take care of you,” I whisper, leaning down to peck his lips. “You’re injured.”

“The parts you need aren’t.” I chuckle, leaning my forehead against his.

We both close our eyes, taking time to just be together, reconnecting again for the umpteenth time. So much has happened, so many times we’ve tried again. This time it has to work.

I kiss him again. More possessive. My lips locking on his and not letting go. My fingers wrap around his neck, and he winces as I press on the bad arm.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, baby, don’t say sorry. You're the best fucking medicine there is.”

His grip tightens on my waist, and I rock my hips against his cock beneath the towel. He groans, loud and feral, a mating call in the wild.

“Nicky…” His words trail off, and I place a finger over his lips.

“I’m looking after you.”

I wriggle from his lap, sliding my fingers into the waistband of his towel. I tug, and the white cotton falls open. His cock stands proud, hard, ready for me. My fingers trail between his thighs, prizing them apart, then I drop to my knees between his legs.

I take his cock in my hands, wrapping my fingers around the shaft before taking the tip in my mouth. He throws his head back, moaning loud.

“Quiet,” I mumble around his dick. “You’ll wake your son up, and we won’t get to the good part.” When I glance up, his eyes are closed, head back on the cushions. He resembles a Greek god laid out, ready to be ravished. And I plan to.

My fingers move to his thighs, and they tense beneath my touch. I go deeper, allowing his cock to slide down my throat. Another groan, another tense. He’s loving this.

“Fuck, Nic… I won’t last long if…” His nails dig into the sofa as if trying to hold himself together but failing.

So I go deeper again, swirling my tongue around the tip as I pull away.

He looks down at me on my knees, between his legs, and smiles.

“Get up here,” he orders. “That pretty pussy of yours needs to be fed.”

I rise slowly, standing at full height in front of him. I take the hem of the t-shirt and lift it over my head, discarding it at my feet. The small lace thong glides down my legs with his help, landing in a pool on the floor.

With one knee, then the other, I move to straddle him again. I guide his cock to where I need him most. I’m wet, ready for him. Lined up at my entrance, I lower myself slowly, letting him slide in—inch by perfect inch.

His eyes stay wide, locked on mine as my body opens for him, clenching the deeper he gets. I keep going until our bodies are flush. I place my palms on his chest, as his good hand takes hold again, encouraging my hips to move.

I ride him. Slow, steady, feeling every inch of him inside me. Our focus never breaks. I watch every emotion on his face. And I savor it.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers.

“Me too.”

“No, I mean this is what we had years ago. In the beginning, when it was just us and our love. Before all the chaos.”

My hips keep working as he speaks. His breathing hitches as he moves closer to orgasm.

“We’ve always been chaos,” I say, between breaths.

“Our own perfect chaos.” He smiles. Genuine, happy, and a reflection of the younger, less ruthless man I fell in love with. He’s still in there.

I set the pace. Deep, unhurried, allowing myself to enjoy the rhythm and the slow build of pleasure in my core. My pussy clenches hard. Joel moans, his cock thick and unrelenting.

His free hand moves between us, his fingers finding my clit. I jerk with the unexpected contact. He massages in soft circles, teasing my orgasm from me as I fuck him. “Take it,” he snarls. “Ride my cock and take it.”

The pleasure builds fast. I push harder, and even injured, he meets me thrust for thrust. My toes curl as I reach the peak. My body convulses and greedy fingers grab my waist, squeezing hard.

“Take what you want. Milk my cock for every last drop.”

I push harder. Bouncing now in his lap as my body rips apart. I shudder, another clench, and he lets go. Deep inside, his cock jerks as he gives me what I want ― all of him.

I lean forward, palms slick on his chest. We kiss, deep, necessary, and the beginning of making up for the time we missed―years lost through pain and crime.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Perfect.”

“You did a good job looking after me,” he teases, wincing again as he sits straighter.

“I always will. You’re mine.”

The baby monitor crackles as Evan’s short sleep ends due to a hiccup.

“That’s our boy,” Joel whispers.

“I’ll get him,” I say, rising and disappearing upstairs.

When I return with Evan, Joel is sitting on the sofa, a blanket prepared for us all. I wander over and place our son in the crook of his arm, then wrap us all up. We sit together, just being us. A family. A family I never thought I would have.

I used to think love was to be earned. But now I realize it’s not about deserving love; it’s about protecting it when it finally finds you. Once it comes to your door, hold on tight. Choose each other over and over again.

Life is fragile. Time passes too quickly. It’s these moments that are important.

Not a name or an empire. The name Parker stands for so much more.

My husband, my son, and I.

Our home. Our chaos. Our future.

We are no longer those lost souls who met at an alcohol awareness meeting. We are stronger than that. What we have is real.

And that will last until death finds us.

If you enjoyed Parker , I’d be so grateful if you left a review. Your words help more than you know—whether it’s one line or a few, they help other readers discover this story and make a huge difference to indie authors like me.

Thank you for reading, and for being part of Parker’s journey.

— VR Tennent