It almost feels sexual though, this erection and the self-punishment. Like I want to hurt for not being able to restrain my baser instincts.
Did I press it too far with her last night? She handed me the control. She gave me the green light when it came to whose dream it was.
Like that truly mattered… we would have ended up doing the exact same fucking thing regardless of whose dream it was. Even if she tried to say the dream was hers, she would have ended chained up to the bed with my cum leaking out of her.
She’s the first chick since high school that I didn’t practice my whole mantra—no glove equals no love—with. That little mantra has kept me from having any little bastards running around the world. Little bastards that more than likely would be just like me.
Is that a bad thing? Former playboy with a girl passed out in his bedroom, who he hopefully just knocked up?
That’s not so bad right?
Moving back to set the squat bar back in its holder, I look down at my shaking thighs. Fuck, even now my goddamn dick is still hard as hell, and now it feels…
I’m not sure what it feels like. My body is tight everywhere. My skin, my muscles, and my abs are aching from the sit-ups.
And doing sit-ups with a boner is fucking weird.
My body hurts a shit ton. Somewhere between the bench press and the squats, I zoned out. Well, not exactly zoned out… The sit-ups were a bit worrisome, like my dick wanted to have a conversation with me or something, but mostly I just worked out.
Mitzy’s still here, laying down on the floor and looking at me. She’s got that look in her eye that tells me if she could talk, I would absolutely hear everything she’s got running through her mind.
Shaking my head at her, I say, “I don’t even want to hear it. You wanted a mommy just as bad as I wanted a wife.”
Bending over, I grab her up off the floor and start the achingly slow climb back up the stairs. She’s not a heavy little thing at all, but right now my arms feel like jelly.
“We both need a shower, sweetie,” I say quietly to her.
She gives me a loud sigh as I continue. “It’s been a couple weeks for you, and I don’t want your skin to get itchy and dry again.”
We move through the house as quiet as thieves in the night, and considering how loud Sophia is snoring in bed when we pass by her, I don’t think we needed to bother.
Holy fuck, either she was fucking in desperate need of sleep or she’s got a chainsaw lodged up her nostrils.
Fluffers, the fucking cat, just looks at me as I pause to listen to the sound of a thousand chainsaws. And I swear the fucker is daring me to even say a word.
Giving the cat the finger, I move on with Mitzy in tow. Shower time is usually pretty easy with her. I’ve been doing it with her since she was a baby, and with the silent hair dryer I bought for her, she doesn’t usually give me any issues.
Setting the water to an even temperature so I don’t scald or freeze my princess, I gently set her down in the walk-in shower.
I should have done this with Sophia last night too, but she was too far gone for this type of aftercare. I don’t think she would have been able to stand even if I had brought in crutches for her to use. I have a nice stone bench in here to rest on, but Sophia was just too dead to the world after I finished with her.
I cleaned her up with some warm water and a washcloth.
But is it fucked up that I tried to not clean up too much around her pussy? Like I wanted all those fast-ass swimmers to make it up there and give me as many babies as possible?
Twins? Triplets? What’s the optimal amount of babies to make with her so she’ll stay here forever?
Soaking, lathering, and rinsing all fill my thoughts as I make sure Mitzy is thoroughly cleaned and groomed. I won’t try to cut her hair. I’ve tried that before and she ended up looking very cross with me. But I can bathe her like she’s a baby, which she loves.
I wonder if Sophia and my babies will like shower and bath time with their daddy?
I know kids aren’t as easy as dogs to please and make happy, but I’m sure some of the same principals apply. Like tummy time and feeding on a regular schedule. Diapers and not getting sleep aren’t going to be an issue, not after being in the military. I’ve gone days without proper sleep and still had to function at a peak performance level.
Babies won’t be easy though, I know that for a fact. I know it won’t be all roses and happiness. I’m not stupid enough to believe that there won’t be rough times. But just the thought of having a child of mine in my arms… it gives me this weird warm feeling in the deep part of my stomach.
The same feeling I get when I take care of Mitzy and Sophia.
Maybe four hours of sleep and I’m still fucking wired as can be. I tucked a sleepy Mitzy back into the bed now that she’s dry and happy. And I can’t stop myself from sitting on the edge of the bed to watch Sophia sleep.
Creepy, I know.
I know it’s fucking creepy, but how can I not watch the woman that has me yearning in the most painful of ways? How can I not want to watch her as she sleeps safely in my bed?
Her body is so perfectly aligned with my own when I think of how she looks. Where some women go to extremes to make their bodies look a certain way, Sophia’s is… perfect. My brain tells me that no matter how good it might look now, it will change in the future. It’s not possible to stay the same. But my heart is telling me that when those changes happen, they’ll be even sexier.
Fuck. Am I in love?
Shit.
I probably am.
It’s not like I can’t feel love.
And it’s not like I don’t want to feel love.
But do I deserve love? Do I deserve to love a woman like Sophia?
Fuck.
Am I putting her on a pedestal that she can’t truly stand on?
I don’t know.
I know she does all the human things. She’s as earthborn as I am.
I may feel like she’s a heavenly body, but she’s not.
I know she’s a pure soul in a world of shit. I know that despite all the hurt and anger in her body right now, she’s still deep down the woman who will give her last dollar to some poor bum on the street.
She’s not the selfish type, even if she thinks she is.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’ve done way too much deep thinking and internal monologuing today. This is not like me. I don’t do all this thinking. I move and act, I don’t debate and ponder.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Fluffers looks at me when I look back down at the bed, and I can’t help but feel judged by the little ball of fur. She’s looking at me with those huge cat eyes, and I know she’s wondering why I give two shits about being a killer. She was born to kill, that’s a cat’s intended purpose.
She doesn’t apologize for what she is.
Should I?
Getting up from the bed, I make my way out of the bedroom and walk to the small office next door. I need to do something. I can’t just sit here and stew in my thoughts.
The laptop Simon set up for me sits on my desk, and as much as I know I want to be back in the bed with Sophia, I need to work. I need to get this shit resolved so I can get us back to some semblance of safety.
I need to figure out the who’s, what’s and why’s of it all.