Rubble: Devil's Rose #12

Chapter 27: Alice Owens

"You bitch!" Poison screams at Nick, "how did you walk into this house without telling me?!"

Poison wraps the both of us into a tight hug, congratulating us while Dakota just tips her beer at me. I love her for that. She's happy for me, but she's not going to make a scene about it. She's going to let Poison do all the work. Feminism.

"Can I tell everyone now?" Poison asks to which both Nick and I say yes.

That was our initial plan. Let Poison do that gossip work because he loves it and that way we don't have to be the people telling everyone.

Some people could be mad that we weren't the ones to tell them, but it just seemed like a lot of work, and we didn't exactly what to do.

We are both very excited for our baby, that I'm pregnant, but that doesn't change the laziness about announcing it to all the people in our lives.

It's just our parents and extended family that we have to tell and that we can both handle.

"Why are you in the neighborhood? Just to see us?" Dakota questions.

"We sorta buying a house," I say.

Nick lets me announce it because he got to say the baby information which I don't really care about, but we apparently have to keep it even.

Now it's time for Dakota to freak out instead of Poison. And the three of us girls instantly start talking about the layout and design. I'm not quite sure what it is about that part of having a house that we seem to enjoy, but I'm not going to say no to talking about interior design.

I truly do think it may have something to do with the act of nesting. It's like a natural thing for me, and I guess the women I surround myself with, to do. I just want to make the house a home.

And I'm not saying that men don't want to do that either, but I find that women are more enthusiastic to have these kinds of conversations.

Although, I have a feeling that Nick has input for the house for sure. If I agree with him, then I think we add what he thinks is good for the house.

After chatting with Poison and Dakota for about forty-five minutes, I can feel the exhaustion of the day hitting me.

Nick is pretty quick to tell and subtly but also with an unnecessary sense of urgency takes me back to his apartment to rest. I barely get to say goodbye to my friends, brother, and sister-in-law before he shoves me into the passenger seat of his truck.

I only roll my eyes at him, knowing that the people I care about don't mind Nick and understand where he's coming from. This feeling of our family is so new.

I mean, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I've told him, so I get where he's coming from. I'm not going to stop him either. If this is what he needs to do, I'm not going to stop him.

It's not harming me; if anything I'm grateful for him taking such good care of me.

I think helping me is a way of processing what's happening as well as showing me that he's here for me. I'm not going to be the one to tell him that he can't take care of me in every way he possibly can if he wants to do it.

I'm not an idiot. Besides, it allows him to direct his new found "dad energy," as he puts it, into something useful. I don't know what this man is going on about half the time, but he has so many ideas for this child including the future careers that he thinks our kid could possibly choose because of what we do.

He was in the military and then barely finished community college with an associate degree in accounting. I almost dropped out of college but decided to just get a degree in communications instead.

This kid, if judged by our academics, is not going to do anything incredibly important with his job even though Nick says it's pretty much guaranteed he's going into electrical engineering or software development.

He has said many times that he would be fine with almost anything that our kid chose, but he has a feeling that it's going to be either of those. I'm just going along with it because why not?

Hopefully, our child goes into those fields of study and gets a job where they're paid super well. I'm so grateful that Nick is going to be the father, the dad, of the children that I give birth to because I know that we are all going to be in very good hands.

The more I think about it, the more excited I am for what's to come. Even though it's so unknown, and I just have no idea what's going to happen, with Nick, I think it's going to be the greatest adventure.

He hands me a cup of ice water and a bowl of cheddar popcorn before sitting down on the couch next to me. We start The Grand Budapest Hotel by Wes Anderson because I'm actually obsessed with any Wes Anderson film.

We cuddle underneath the covers, my body warped around his. His hand rests on the back of my leg, holding me to him, and I'm reminded of all the ways in which I could have gotten pregnant. I squeeze my thighs together, like I always do, thinking it will help, but it never does.

All it does is alert Nick.

He squeezes the back of my thigh, his touch sending sparks through my body. He always knows exactly what he's doing. Which I both appreciate and find annoying.

Sometimes I just feel inadequate, but then he groans like his soul is being separated from his body, and I know I'm doing a good job.

I twist my body so that my back is to his chest, and his arms are wrapped around my sides. I reach one hand under the blanket and take hold of his right-hand fingers.

I glide them over my right leg while using my left hand to move my shorts out of the way. I press his fingers into the wet spot in my underwear, clearly telling him what I want. He grunts as I begin grinding on his fingers, begging him to touch me.

He shifts my underwear out of the way, and I gasp as they hit my throbbing and wanting clit. My head resting on his shoulder, my arms thrown loosely around his neck, his naturally masculine scent filling my nose.

My eyes flick to meet his before they drop down to his perfect lips. His arms are still wrapped around my waist, and a kiss is placed on top of my head. A subtle smile is present on his lips.

As I shuffle my body to get myself comfortable, the smile on his lips widens, and my breath hitches for a moment.

"Feels good huh, baby?"

"Yes," I moan, "feels so good."

He circles my clit slowly, gathering my natural arousal onto his fingertips before returning back to the sweet spot. I grip hard onto his shoulders to keep myself steady as my hips involuntarily follow every movement of his fingers.

I tilt my head back to lay kisses on his jawline, sighing with every sudden but perfect adjustment. I can feel his hardness against my back, and it almost sends me spiraling.

It's beyond belief that I went two weeks without this because I want to feel this good every day of my life. I moan out as he runs his rough knuckles over my clit, and my thighs shit tight, trapping his hand inside.

"Open up for me. I know you're sensitive, but it's gonna feel so good. I'm going fuck you with my fingers, just like you like it."

His voice is rough, needy. And there's no way to deny him what he wants, what we want, so I peel my legs back open. The pressure on my clit increases, the pace also increasing in the most perfect fashion.

Oh fuck, it's almost too much.

Grinding down hard, I beg him to go faster, to let me cum. When he finally does, I can feel the wetness coming out of me, my entire body filled with relief.