Kaelyn
“I’m nervous.”
Hemming pulls the truck into a spot in front of Pōr. “Why? You sent him the plans. He didn’t say anything to make you question the meeting, right?” He puts the truck in park and unbuckles, but doesn’t move to get out of the truck.
“But what if it’s too big of a dream? What if all the tables are the wrong idea? What if I need a bigger display case? What if—”
“What if, we just go in and talk to the man, and see what he says? I’m sure if he thinks anything is off, or has other ideas, he’ll share them.”
“I guess maybe I’m just afraid I’m in way over my head.”
When he reaches for my hand, I grip his like my life depends on it. “In case I didn’t tell you today, I’m proud of you.”
“You have.”
“Then I’ll keep saying it. I’m so damn proud of you, Kae. I don’t think he’ll tell you anything that makes you question what you and Kate came up with. And before you work yourself up, let’s just go in and see what he has to say first, okay?”
“You’re right.”
“I know,” he responds, winking.
Rolling my eyes, we separate and meet again on the sidewalk. I gave Landon the code for the backdoor so he could walk around the space before our meeting, but Hemming and I enter through the front door.
A man in jeans and a black pullover sweatshirt that states, “Hennessy Construction,” stands in the middle of the room, a notepad in his hand and one of those square-like pencils over his ear. At the door opening, he turns to us.
“Hey. Landon Hennessy,” he says, his hand extended.
Instead of offering his greeting to Hemming first, he starts with me. I don’t know why, but that sits really well with me.
He’s aware this is my project.
Not my husband’s.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I tell him. “Kaelyn. This is my husband, Hemming. We’ve heard great things from Kate Freemont, and the bookstore looks amazing. I’m excited to discuss what you think about this space.”
We spend the next hour walking the building, comparing Kate’s drawing to Landon’s thoughts, and by the end, I’m kicking myself for being nervous.
“My wife is due with baby number five on the first of December, and I don’t think we’ll be finished here by then, but I’m going to be sure I have the best men on the job for any time I can’t be here, physically overseeing everything.”
“Five? Do you love it?” I ask, and he grins.
“All boys. It’s...interesting most days. Lots of wrestling and furniture rearranging.”
“Is the baby another boy?”
Hemming chuckles at my question.
“That’s what they say,” Landon grins. “My wife was really hoping for a girl, but we agreed we were stopping at five.”
I have so many more questions, but I give the man a break. Landon says he’s going to draw up the official blueprints and permits, and he and his team should be able to get started in the next week or two.
We walk him to the door and after he leaves, I can’t help but let out an excited little shriek. I can now see where everything is going to be—including a window on the outside wall.
I won’t do a full window wall, but when Landon suggested a partial one instead because it would allow my counter to extend fully, I one-hundred percent was on board.
“It’s real,” I quietly muse to the empty walls, looking around before settling on Hemming. “It’s all real.”
“Yeah, baby. It’s all real.”
Four days later, I wake to an empty bed.
I scoop Wilson from the end of the bed and walk into the living room—stopping quickly in my tracks.
“Hemming...?”
He stands from the couch, a large suitcase—not our typically carry-on—nearby. “It’s our fifth anniversary,” he says before tapping the hard case. “And I thought we should celebrate it.”
“Do people celebrate their fifth anniversaries?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. But we do. Go get dressed. We leave for the airport in thirty minutes.”
Grinning, I set Wilson down on the ground. “Were you going to let me sleep until we had to leave?”
Wilson trades me for Hemming, twisting between Hemming’s legs before he gets lifted. “You never sleep past six-thirty, so I figured you’d be awake soon.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, giddy with excitement.
“It’s a surprise.”
“The last time—”
The last time he took me on a trip without telling me the destination, we ended up here in Forever, and my life completely changed.
His forehead wrinkles as his brows go up into his hairline. “And how did that one end up for you?”
“Not so bad, I suppose,” I tease. “But I’ll find out at the airport this time, right?”
“Just go get dressed, woman.”
“Do I have to pack anything?” I mean, I saw the suitcase, but a girl can’t be too sure.
“I packed yesterday when you were at Kate’s. I have everything. I just need you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You’re not getting dressed.”
“Fine!”
Instead of letting me back into our room alone, Hemming follows, sitting on the edge of the bed as I walk into the closet, pulling out leggings and a hoodie.
“Wear a tank top or something under that,” he directs and I grin as I pull off my sleep shirt.
“So we’re going somewhere warm.” Completely nude, I turn toward the sink vanity where I placed my clothes, and pull on a thong and sports bra.
“I’ll never be able to surprise you, will I?”
When I look over my shoulder, I see his eyes are on my ass, so I give my hips an extra wiggle as I pull up my leggings.
I grab a Lululemon racer back tank and put it on before pulling the hoodie in place. “Okay, I’m good. You grabbed shoes?” I slip my feet into my favorite pair of HEYDUDEs.
“I grabbed shoes, yes. Trust, woman. Trust.”
Turning off the lights in the closet and bathroom, I can’t wipe the smile from my face. “And you planned this all on your own?”
“I did, I’ll have you know.” He stands and puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the bedroom. “And Kate will stop by for Wilson, so you don’t have to worry about him, either.”
“Now, just being real,” I say when we’re in the truck, heading off the property, “I’m sure you’re aware, but Aunt Flow is due to arrive anytime between tomorrow and Monday. Which means there’s a good chance you’ve planned this amazing trip, and I’m going to be stuck in bed for at least one day.”
“I have your heat pads, I have your pain meds, and I have a plan. There are worse things than being stuck in a bed with you all day.”
“You really thought hard about this, didn’t you?”
“I knew I wanted to give you a real trip. The two we’ve been on haven’t been great, but I knew after Houston, I was going to do this.”
“You know, for being thrown into this as much as I was, you really are good at it all,” I tell him honestly. “Most men aren’t like you.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t need to deal with most men, isn’t it?”
“Definitely a good thing.”
Hemming surprised me with a trip to Cabo and our first day was amazing.
The resort he chose was all-inclusive, and even though we arrived in mid-afternoon, we spent time at the resort’s private beach, then traded salt water for pool water, before having dinner at one of the fanciest restaurants I’ve ever stepped foot in.
We also broke in the bed, as Hemming gave me orgasm after orgasm.
Probably in preparation for my period to start.
May as well get as much fun in as we could, right?
As life would have it, I woke up on Saturday morning with the starting signs of cramping, and my cycle started before lunch. I tried hard to stay upbeat, but as the day wore on, it became harder to function.
“You’re not mad?” I ask, as we leisurely make our way back to our room.
“Not mad,” he reassures me. Our hands are clasped and he rubs his thumb over mine. “I wish you would have told me before it got this bad, though, so I could have had you in bed and relaxing.”
“I thought I could ride it out,” I admit quietly. “I hoped I could. You planned this fantastic trip, and here I am...”
Hemming lets go of my hand but only so he can put his arm over my shoulders. “Knew it was a possibility, babe.” We reach our room and he places his phone in front of the pad, unlocking the door.
“You wanna take a hot shower or anything?”
I shake my head, stepping away from him and toward the bed. “No. I think I just want to lay down.”
“Let me get you your things,” he says, closing the door and flipping the security latch. He walks to our suitcase and flips it open, pulling out my heating pad, my heated, weighted blanket, and a small Ziplock that looks like it has two different types of pain relievers in it.
“For not wanting a future with a woman, you sure know what the heck you’re doing,” I say quietly, watching him.
“I learn quickly, and anything I can’t figure out by watching you, I look up online.” He plugs in both heat sources and hands me the smaller pad. As I put it on my lower stomach, he drapes the blanket on top of me. “What med do you prefer?”
“Ibuprofen, please. Three.”
Hemming gets me completely set up and I want to cry at the care he takes.
I definitely lucked out by being paired with this man.
“Rest, if you can,” he says, getting situated on the bed beside me. While I’m curled up on my side, he’s sitting with his back to the headrest. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV?”
Shaking my head, I close my eyes. “You can. It’s fine.”
I end up falling asleep and take a thirty minute nap. When I wake, I turn to my back, wincing at the pressure in my lower stomach, although it’s no longer the sharp, jabbing pains from earlier.
“Did you know you can start taking pain relievers the day before your period, to help with cramps?” Hemming asks, his phone in his hand while he looks down at me.
“I’ve heard it but while it’s regular, it’s not like...every twenty-eight days. Sometimes it’s thirty days. I’d hate to pre-med that far in advance.”
“I don’t think a couple extra doses before bed is harmful.”
“I’ll think about it,” I answer, closing my eyes again.
“You know what else can help with cramping?” I hear as he puts his phone down on the nightstand.
Keeping my eyes closed, I respond with a “Hmm?”
“Orgasms.”
I lift one eyelid. “No.”
“I saw it on multiple sites. Mayo, Healthline. Real sites.”
“You have to be in a certain frame of mind for an orgasm, Hemming,” I say, closing my eye once again. “And I feel the least sexy on my period.”
“But if you felt sexy...?”
“Hemming, I hurt. The very last thing on my mind is sex.” Which is currently a lie, because with him bringing it up, it’s very much on the forefront of my mind.
“You don’t even want to try? Not at all curious?”
Sighing, I open my eyes again. “You just wanna fuck.”
“Nope, I want you to feel better.”
“By fucking.”
“Listen. My dick can stay in my pants. Am I afraid of period sex? Not in the least. But it really is because I want to help you feel better.”
“Even if an orgasm helped, it would only be temporary.”
“Is this,” he motions over my laying form, “ever more than one or two days?”
“No. Usually only day one.”
“Then wouldn’t it be worthwhile to see if it works for you? It’s just one day. See how much relief you get...?”
“But we go back to the fact I don’t feel sexy, Hemming. A woman has to be in the right frame of mind, and this is not it.”
He studies me for a moment before nodding. “Okay. I hear you. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re sexy.”
“You’re deranged,” I tease, closing my eyes once more.
He’s watching a rerun of a Law & Order, and as I listen, I try to place the episode. I nearly fall back to sleep but as soon as my body is fully relaxed, a tight clench to my right ovary has me hissing out a low breath.
“You good?”
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him, trying my best to remain in a calm headspace.
“You want to try a hot shower?”
“No,” I sigh, “I just want to be right here.”
“Okay.”
As I lay beside him, Hemming’s conversation starts to replay in my head. I certainly don’t feel the worst I’ve ever felt before but...
Part of me is curious if there’s any truth to those articles.
Pre-Hemming, I wasn’t exactly a stranger to sex or masturbation, but never during my cycle. However, I could see how maybe it would help.
“Maybe we could try,” I say, fully aware it’s out of nowhere.
“Try...?”
I look up at him and shrug a shoulder. “Let’s try sex.”
Unexpectedly, Hemming shakes his head. “I’m not coercing you into sex, Kae. You set a boundary. I’m going to respect it.”
“And I’m telling you, I’m lifting it. Do you want a blow job first?” I try to get up on my elbow but even though I do my best not to grimace, I’m not successful at hiding my pain.
“Kae, it has nothing to do with my pleasure and everything to do with yours. No, I do not want a blow job. And I don’t want to do something you’re not comfortable with.”
I think about my books, and then a moment a few weeks ago where fiction nearly crossed into reality. “You once brought up a safe word. We play, and if it’s too much or isn’t working, I let you know.”
I see the contemplation crossing his features.
“Besides, I’m curious now,” I add. “But I don’t think it’ll be easy for you.” Bringing a hand to my chest, I caress my breast. “They don’t hurt, but my nipples don’t exactly feel good either, so they’re not going to be an easy ticket to coming.”
“What’s your safe word?” Hemming asks, his eyes on my hand over my breast.
“I don’t know... I... I’ve never...” I stutter, put on the spot.
“It’s your safe word.” The control in his voice is so different from the stutter of mine, and when his eyes meet mine, the gray depths are darker. Stormier. “You have to know it and you have to use it.”
“V-vanilla.” It’s the first word I can think of, even though I know most people go with something like red.
“You’re sure?” He doesn’t wait for a reply though, and gets out of bed, walking toward the bathroom.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
He comes back with towel, draped over his shoulder, but instead of coming to bed, he moves to the suitcase.
I watch, intrigued, trying to figure out what he’s up to.
“This will go under you,” he says coming back to the bed, dropping the towel where he was sitting. “Condoms, if you decide to take it there. Vibrator.”
“Hemming!” My eyes widen at the pink phallus that hits the mattress last. “When did you get a vibrator? At least, it better be new. That’s not...”
“Never touched another pussy,” he reassures me. “Amazon Primed it earlier this week. In hopes we’d get to experiment.”
“You know dang well I don’t need a vibrator.” There’s never been a time where he’s not gotten me off all on his own.
“Well, I figured oral was off the table, and I thought maybe that would help you.”
There was a similar scene in a book I was reading recently, where the hero used toys on the heroine. Narrowing my eyes at him, I can’t help but tease, “Have you been reading my books?”
“Your Kindle history is on the Amazon app, and I may have thumbed through a book or two.”
“Hemming!” I laugh for the first time since getting back to the room.
“I love when you laugh.” He kneels on the mattress. “I hate when you hurt. Physically and emotionally. Let me help you.”
“Go ahead and give it the ol’ college try.” I lift the weighted blanket from me, and momentarily whimper at the loss of heat.
I’m not surprised when Hemming doesn’t just...go for it.
He likes his foreplay.
He starts by kissing my lips lightly, gradually deepening it until I’m sighing and my mouth is open to his. I still have the smaller heat pack on my lower stomach but he makes no move to remove it. In fact, he places his hand over it, adding a gentle pressure.
As we kiss, I’m surprised to feel a wetness between my legs. I either let a clot out, or I’m getting wet because of this man. I probably should have changed my tampon before this but...
Whatever.
His hand slowly moves from the heating pad to my upper stomach, his thumb brushing the underswell of my breast. The lace of my bra is thin and not padded, but even so, I crave the feel of his skin.
“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth. “Please.”