Forever Us (Always and Forever 4)

“Yes.” I put my hand on his chest, tilt my head, and bring my body into him. “Don’t look so scandalized. We are working on us, and I made a choice to forgive you and believe you.” I chuckle a bit over the fact he looks so aghast.

“This feels weird,” he admits with a similar humorous noise.

“We are weird, but I’d rather choose to believe you than her.”

“You should. I don’t fucking want her, Lana. I swear I don’t.”

“Stop.” I lean up and kiss his jaw, now freshly shaven as of yesterday. “It’s in the past, and I don’t want her to get what she wants, and that’s you thinking about her, talking about her, or even whispering her name. She’s nothing to us.” I bring his hand to my stomach and look over at a sleeping Prince. Kings’s eyes drift lazily from my stomach to the crib.

“You’re right. And once you feed your king and our little royalty, I’m gonna kick off my boots and love on my lady all night. How’s that sound?” In true Kingston Troy Donovan fashion, he erases her from the equation, further sealing my faith in trusting him.

They say in life you really only ever have yourself, but that lie was made by someone who never had Kingston. Who needs only the love of oneself when you can have the entire heart and soul of Kingston, when you can have his love and every single ounce of his substance?

“I want nothing more than to be lost with you tonight.” I melt into him more, molding my body to the contours of his.

“Let’s run away then, get fucking lost forever.” With a wisp of a touch, he cradles my face and kisses me with a wanderlust feel. Like it will take us away, with a promise of new places and more journeys. “How about this?” Reaching around, he takes two handfuls of my ass and thrusts me into him, my feet lifting and leaving the ground. “You make the plates. I will go upstairs and run you a bath. Then I will eat, and then feed Prince and get him to bed. After that, I will come in the room and we will start our long night of reconnecting in that bathtub. How about all that?” Kingston bites my dimpled cheek, causing a whimper to strangle itself from my lips, his cock growing against my stomach.

“Mmhm. That sounds incredible.”

“Good, now finish my meal, woman, while I draw you a bath.” With a brisk kiss, he sets me down and slaps my ass.

“Woman? Hmm, you must not want a blowjob tonight.”

He almost clears the kitchen before turning back and quickly walking back to me, bent at his hips like a lion catching his prey. “Oh hush, you little shit.” Biting my neck and tickling me with his hardly-there scruff, it makes me sound off with a throaty laugh, forgetting the loud sound of our playing would wake up Prince. He stirs in his popup crib and tosses about for one of us to tend to him.

“Oops.”

“I guess he’s coming with me. I’ll watch him while you finish up.” Kingston moseys over to him and collects him into his arms, planting a gentle kiss on his head of hair.

“Sounds good.” We share one more wink, something we do often, but still the tiny action gives me butterflies.

Lana’s parents are coming into town this week, and I’ve been working on my manners and practicing ways to zip my trap. I don’t necessarily hate Jeffery; it’s just not always a cakewalk when he and I are around each other. Bickering, little glares when we pass, “Lana loves me more than you” battles hidden under plain-as-day insults—it’s always a trip.

Lana and I decided this trip would be the opportune moment to announce our second pregnancy. She went to the doctor last week, and she is officially nine weeks. I’ve been up her ass and around the corner, being all over her when I get the chance, and tonight will be no different. I plan to spend our last night in our empty house, getting inside her, not just physically but mentally. Caress her with my look, penetrate her mind with my words, and stroke her gently with praise before I even start with my hands.

Princeton is having his first sleepover with my sister and Trey tonight, on Lana’s choice, which was shocking to all of us. Lana has been going to therapy once with me and once on her own every week, trying to get ahead of the postpartum. She tells me she and the therapist discuss Joel a lot more in their private sessions, which could have offended me, but she is more forthcoming about it when we are alone, so I sit back and let Dr. Moore continue to work her magic.

Lighting the candles around the bed to set the ambiance of romance, I step back and check out my masterpiece. It’s no work of Van Gogh, but I think it will be enough to sweep L off her feet. I’m a big goon, and I don’t have a clue how to be deep and shit, but Lana does. It’s something I want to delve into, a side of us I have yet to breach, and tonight is when I want to start.

She is due home from the boutique any second, and my work is almost done, all but the music. Walking over to the cherry wood entertainment center in our bedroom, I open the glass door and start up the sound system.

First, I try classical, but that shit seems overdone and cheesy, like a soundtrack to every romantic comedy Lana has forced me to watch. Then I try country, and it feels like I should be lying her down on a bale of hay and making her ride me like a ‘stang, That was our last Saturday night; I need something fresh.

“Fuck.” My hands start to shake and sweat, trembling as I play with the dial.

“You could just let us be the music.” Lana catches me in a state of despair.

“Shit, Lana, I didn’t hear you come in.” She stands there looking stunning like always, nearly knocking me on my ass in her tight jeans, silk tank top, and a curly ponytail winding down between her slim shoulder blades.

“This is beautiful, Kings.” Taking little steps with the daintiest fucking feet tipped in dark polish, she makes her journey to me. I feel inadequate for a few brief seconds before I really get a better look at her face as she closes in on me. Her attendance becomes more aware in this room as her tiny form somehow overpowers the six-foot wall of muscle that is me. She’s wearing a beholden look on her perfect, round face, the light showing off her deep dimples as she slightly smirks at me.

Once toe-to-toe, I still manage to find no words, caught in a moment where she is the one sweeping me off my feet just by her fragile aura. I pay close attention as her hands travel up my shirtless torso, making a detour stop on each tattoo with a trace of her fingertip. I swallow, watching her as she follows her hands up my chest and around the tops of my defined shoulders to the back of my neck.

Her chilly hand cools the burn of my hot skin and her body lifts. Standing on her tiptoes, she closes the gap between us and her soft hits my hard. “You did this all for me?”

Nodding, I mentally scold myself. What the fuck? Why can’t I say shit? How did this become about me, and her rendering me speechless? Dry swallowing, I croak out a pathetic, deep “Yes.”

“Kingston, you’re on fire. Are you nervous?” Sympathetically, she worries about me, placing her free hand above my heartbeat raging against my sternum, trying to break free. Holy hell, she’s owning me like she always does, and like every other time, I don’t even stand a chance of claiming the token of ownership, because she holds all the cards just by simply fucking exi