The Culmination (3 page)

“That’s an interesting mix of metaphors. Do monkeys work? And if so, do they really get into Jacuzzis after a long, hard day?”

She laughs. “Well, okay, good point. I should have said the monkeys stopped and said, ‘Aah,’ like they’d sat down in a giant massage chair after a long, hard day of taking final exams.”

I laugh.

“Either way, you did a ‘
bang
-
up’
job.” She snickers.

“Clever girl. You funny,” I say.

“I funny.”

I touch her belly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to have two humans growing inside you.”

“Not gonna lie.” She sighs happily again. “It’s pretty damned cool.”

I wasn’t intending to do this—not until I was one hundred percent sure I could deliver on the tacit promise of it—but, suddenly, I can’t resist. “Hang on,” I say. “I’ve got a little surprise for you, my metaphor-mixing sex goddess.” I leap out of bed and head toward my walk-in closet.

“Hey, gimme a little shaky-shake,” she calls after me, as usual, and I grace her with a little ass-shake as I walk to my closet.

She whoops behind me with glee. “Hawt!”

I laugh. That woman is so damned easy to please.

I grab a large box tucked away in the far corner of my closet and return to Sarah in the bed.

“What’s this?” Sarah asks, eying the closed box.

“Well, open it and find out.”

Chapter 2

Jonas

She leans forward, opens the flap of the box, and peeks inside. Her mouth instantly drops. “Jonas P. Faraday,” she says. “How did you know—?”

“I’m all-knowing.”

“But how did you know about this specific thing?”

“Remember when your laptop went in for repairs and you used the computer in the office for a week?”

She nods.

“You left quite an interesting search history.”

She bursts out laughing and buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

“That was quite the trail of breadcrumbs you left for me, baby. I assumed you did it on purpose.”

“No.” She laughs again. “Well, maybe subconsciously, who knows?” She begins pulling out the bulky contents of the box. When everything is laid out on the bed, she looks it over, her eyes ablaze. “Holy Bondage, Batman,” she says quietly. “I never thought I’d see the day.” She beams at me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I take a deep breath. Shit. What have I done? I thought I was ready to take this leap, but suddenly I’m not so sure.

“You do understand I want
you
to cuff
me
—not the other way around?”

“That’s the only possible combination.”

“And you’re totally fine with this?”

We both know I’ve been hardwired since the age of seven to recoil from the mere thought of bondage—and The Lunacy in my teens certainly didn’t help matters. Can I really do this for her? And
enjoy
it? I think I can—if what happened in Thailand was any indication. Or were the circumstances of that bizarre night so fucking weird, so fucking confusing, it created a once-in-a-lifetime wormhole for me—impossible to duplicate? “I’m better than fine with it,” I manage to say, and, actually, as the words tumble out of my mouth, I’m pretty sure they’re the truth.

“I can’t believe it. Wow.” She picks up one of the four Velcro cuffs. “How does this thing work?”

I grab one of the soft cuffs and open and close it. “The sheet gets strapped onto the bed, really tight, and then the cuffs attach to the sheet, in any configuration you want.”

“Wow,” she says, her face aglow, “that’s really cool—and a whole lot more efficient than a web of neckties tied to the bedposts, huh?” She laughs.

I roll my eyes.

“I can’t believe you got this for me, baby.”

“Of course.”

Now it’s Sarah who’s rolling her eyes. “Not ‘of course.’ This is a one hundred-eighty-degree turnaround from where we started, Jonas. You were pretty damned clear on your application that any kind of bondage was a total nonstarter for you.” She bites her lip. “Understandably.”

I pause, considering. “Well, I didn’t know I was writing those words to the future mother of my twins.”

“Hold up,” Sarah says abruptly, shaking her head like she’s got whiplash. “I’m the future mother of your
twins
?” She looks down at her massive belly. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

I chuckle.

“But seriously, baby, this is a big shift. Are you sure?” Sarah says.

I shrug. “With the right woman to tie up, a man can overcome just about any kind of bullshit-hang-up.”

“There you go writing greeting cards again: ‘Darling, I think I’ve found the right woman to tie up. Please help me get over my bullshit-hang-ups. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I laugh.

“Thank you so much, baby,” she gushes. “I’m so excited.”

“Just a little motivation to get you through the next eight weeks—consider it a dangling carrot.”

The look of sheer euphoria on her face makes me want to give her the second box, too. If I can’t get over all my childhood bullshit with the woman I love more than life itself—the woman who’s willing to bear my children, for Chrissakes, then when the fuck am I ever gonna get past it? And isn’t it my soul’s mandate to at least
try
to get past it? I look down at the inside of my left forearm.
For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories.
Why did I get that inked onto my skin if I wasn’t gonna commit to it as my life’s mantra? I take a deep breath. Yeah, I’ve got to do this. It’s time. I can’t cower in that closet behind my mother’s dresses forever, for fuck’s sake. “But wait, there’s
more
,” I say, leaping back up. I’m suddenly feeling flushed with adrenaline. I can do this. I know I can. Fuck my past. Onward and upward, baby. Climb and conquer.

“
More
?” she says behind my back. “Hey, gimme a shaky-shake, baby.”

Once again, I shake my ass for her with gusto and she hoots at me.

In my closet, I grab a second, smaller box—this one from the farthest corner of the highest shelf—and bring it back to her on the bed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. In April.”

She stares at the box with wide eyes. “What is it?”

“Do I really need to explain how presents work
again
?”

She grins from ear to ear and eagerly dives into the box. “Oh my God,” she says, pulling out a bag filled with assorted sex toys. She looks up at me, incredulous. “How did you...?”

“Breadcrumbs,” I say. “You left me lots and lots of breadcrumbs, baby.”

She blushes. “Wow. I never intended... I’ve just been...” She doesn’t finish the sentence.

“You’ve just been what?”

She shrugs, her cheeks turning bright red. “Curious.”

I must admit I was initially taken aback when I found Sarah’s search history on my computer, but, almost immediately, it all made perfect sense. The woman didn’t take a job reading sex club applications out of nowhere, after all, whether she realizes it or not. And, yeah, I’m not blind—I saw the way her eyes blazed in Thailand when I impulsively tied her wrists, not knowing how else to handle her. I told myself it was a one-time thing for both of us, given the unique circumstances of the night—but clearly, it planted some kind of seed inside her. Or maybe it simply ignited a fuse that was already there.

“Jonas, I wasn’t looking at all that stuff to use with you, necessarily—I’ve known from day one this kind of stuff is off-limits with you. I was just browsing for the sheer entertainment of it—just sort of... “ She trails off.

“Has My Beautiful Intake Agent been missing her sex club applications?”

She smiles and shrugs. “Maybe it’s just a simple case of being attracted to forbidden fruit. The doctor said we’re not allowed to get too crazy-freaky-kinky, so...” Her cheeks flush. “So, of course, all I can think about is getting crazy-freaky. But it’s okay, Jonas. Obviously, you have very good reasons not to want to do this kind of thing and I totally respect that—”

“Fuck it, baby. Fuck my bullshit.” I practically spit out the words.

Her face ignites.

“You’re curious? You wanna explore some kink and see if it gets you off? Cool. Don’t let all my baggage and bullshit and weird-ass shit make you think this stuff is somehow weird or shameful. It’s not. I’m ready to fuck you however you wanna get fucked. Nothing’s off-limits anymore.”

Her face is positively blazing with excitement. “Really?”

“You bet.”

She picks up an unidentifiable sex toy, a glass dildo that looks more like a bong than a sex toy, and scrutinizes it like it’s an alien carcass. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m gonna like this stuff or not. I was just feeling a bit curious to find out.” She makes a face at the glass dildo. “I think.”

“Let’s find out.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

She drops the bag of toys and scoots closer to me on the bed. “Jonas, you know I’m a thoroughly satisfied member of the Jonas Faraday Club, right? I don’t want anything or anyone else but you, and I never will.”

“Sarah, I harbor no misunderstanding about how much you like getting fucked by me and my big ol’ cock,” I say. “And neither does anyone within a half-mile radius of our bedroom.”

She laughs.

“We’re good, love,” I say. “We’re always good.”

“Good,” she says. She exhales. “Whew.”

“So it’s a date,” I say. “I’ll shock and awe you with a whole new brand of fuckery the minute we get the all-clear from the doctor, whenever that is.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I touch her belly. “It’ll be something to look forward to after our little monkeys arrive.” Oh shit. All of a sudden, as those last words leave my mouth, a tsunami of anxiety crashes down on me.

“Jonas?” Her face flashes with acute concern.

I clear my throat.

She puts a steadying hand on my forearm. “What are you thinking, baby?”

My heart is pounding in my ears.

“Jonas?”

“I’m thinking I can’t wait to tie you up and shove a glass dildo up your ass.”

“Jonas, talk to me.”

My stomach won’t stop twisting. I take a deep, steadying breath. “I just worry a bit sometimes, that’s all.” I try to smile at her again, though I’m sure I’m not successful.

“Oh, Jonas.” She touches my cheek. “What’s going on with you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

She squints at me. “Come on, Jonas. I can tell you’ve been struggling a bit lately.
Talk to me
.”

I rub my eyes and glance over at the clock. “I haven’t been struggling.” I push her over and slap the tattoo on her delectable ass cheek. “No more talking about our fucking
feelings,
woman. It’s time for you to get your massive tits and juicy ass in gear. The dumber half of the Faraday clan will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Josh and Kat are coming over?”

“Yeah, I invited them for dinner.”

“Well, yeehaw! Why didn’t you say so, hubsters?”

“Because it was a
surprise
. Now get your delicious ass in gear, wife. It takes you five times longer to do anything these days, hauling those gigantic tits around. Chop chop.”

Chapter 3

Sarah

Jonas opens the door and Kat’s mini-me tears into the room, giggling and squealing at the top of her lungs.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jonas coos to his towheaded niece. He kneels down and she leaps into his muscled arms. “Gimme my kisses, Gracie.”

Gracie quickly begins peppering her uncle’s face with kisses, exactly the way he’s trained her to do it since she could first form a pucker with her little lips.

“Oh, thank you,” Jonas says. “Such sweet kisses. Oh, wait, I think you missed a spot.” He tilts his chin to her and she lays a wet one right on it. “Thank you, baby. Oh, whoops. Another spot.” He turns his chiseled cheek to her and she obliges him. “Oh, that was an extra good one. Thank you.”

As usual, watching Jonas with Gracie makes me swoon—I can only imagine how I’m going to melt onto the floor on a daily basis when I get to witness him with our own babies. “My turn,” I say, hauling my big-ass belly off the couch. “Come over here and gimme some of those kisses.”

Jonas puts Gracie down and she instantly barrels toward me like a rocket.

“Careful of Auntie Sarah’s belly,” Jonas calls after her.

“Oh, she’s fine, Jonas,” I say, just before Gracie slams into me like a linebacker. “My goodness, look who’s wearing her sparkly-pink cowgirl boots,” I say.

“She wants to wear those pink sparkle-boots twenty-four-seven,” Kat says, taking off her coat to reveal her petite baby bump. “Hey, girl,” Kat says, kissing my cheek.

“Hey, Kitty Kat.”

Kat flops onto the couch with a big sigh. “The minute Gracie opens her eyes in the morning, it’s ‘Sparkie boots!’ And at night, when I make her take them off for bath time, she throws a fit. ‘Sparkie boots! Sparkie boots! Grassy sparkie boots!’” Kat lets out a dinosaur-like shriek in apparent mimicry of her strong-willed child. “I’m convinced the girl’s actually a pterodactyl in a toddler suit.”

I sit down next to Kat on the couch. “I see no reason why my sweet and angelic niece can’t sleep in whatever sparkly footwear she desires.”

“Ha! I’m gonna remind you of that ridiculous comment when your own ‘sweet and angelic’ children are barreling toward their terrible twos on a one-way bullet train.”

“Aw, Gracie would never throw a fit,” I say, hugging Gracie to me like I’m shielding her from the cruel barbs of her mean mommy. “Don’t let your mommy defame you with such malicious lies.” I nibble Gracie’s neck. “Nom, nom, nom. I love me some Gracie.”

Gracie squeals.

“You like the pretty sparkle boots I got you, boo?”

“Grassy luh da boots.”

“Well, that’s good because I love you.” I pucker and Gracie instantly smashes her wet lips into mine. “Mmm,” I say. “Yummalicious.”

“Yummaleesh,” Gracie repeats, and I laugh.

“Amazeballs?” I prompt.

“Mayzbilz.”

I giggle with glee. “Holy crappola,” I say slowly.

“Holuhcrup.”

I laugh again and Gracie’s face lights up. I could play the “repeat after me” game with Gracie all day long. It never gets old.