Pumpkin King Read online

  “The only thing I’ve ever wanted. I want my daughter.”

  “She’s not your daughter,” I say.

  “The DNA test says otherwise,” he says.

  I shake my head, swallowing hard, praying Sarah can’t hear too much anger in my voice. “I already did one, remember? I never said you weren’t the biological father. But that doesn’t make you her dad, and it doesn’t make her your daughter. You wanted nothing to do with her, remember? You told people she wasn’t yours.”

  Carl, of course, tries to rewrite history. “You didn’t want the money when I offered it.”

  “It’s not about money. I never asked you for financial support. I could have supported Sarah and myself with the money I made at the firm and been very comfortable. But you forget that you only wanted to be involved in her life—financially or otherwise—when you thought it would help you. Sarah’s a human being, not a prop.”

  Carl laughs. “Doesn’t matter. She’s my daughter and I have a right to see her.”

  “You don’t. Your name isn’t on the birth certificate.”

  That stops him in his tracks. “What?”

  “You barely acknowledged that you got me pregnant, never mind that you denied the baby was yours. You’re damn right I didn’t put your name on the birth certificate. I’m not an idiot. Since your name isn’t on it, you have no rights to this child.”

  “I can petition to have my name added,” he says.

  I’m bluffing like crazy now, but I sure sound convincing. “You go right ahead and try that; adding your name is not automatic, Carl. The health department needs both our signatures. And anyway, I think you’ll find someone else’s name on the birth certificate, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Whose?” he demands.

  I glance over to Henry. I plead with my eyes for him to play along with what I’m about to say. He looks back at me with nothing but love. He’s with me, and he’s going to do whatever he needs to do to make this guy go away today. He knows it’s not OK to show up and hash out a custody dispute without lawyers present.

  I gesture to Henry. “Him. His name is on the birth certificate. He just adopted Sarah yesterday. Sorry, you’re one day late, Carl.”

  “We break up and less than two months later, you’re married?”

  Henry stands next to me with his arm around my shoulder and chimes in. “Yep. We’re totally married and I’ve adopted Sarah. End of story. Now, if you want visitation, we might be able to arrange some supervised visits if you play nice and stop calling and texting my wife. And no more surprise visits. If you show up again and try to slip away with her, like you just did, that’s kidnapping.”

  At hearing that word, my entire body stiffens and I feel lightheaded. Still, I add, “Henry’s right. Now, if you want to discuss this the proper way, you let me know and we’ll all meet together at a lawyer’s office.”

  Carl looks from me to Henry. But he doesn’t look around for Sarah. Henry gently squeezes me closer as we wait for Carl’s decision. Is he going to call us on our bluff and continue to make a scene, or is he going to leave quietly? Which will he decide is better for his image?

  I relax into Henry’s grip, realizing it doesn’t matter what Carl decides to do. I’m incredibly lucky either way. There’s no way for him to leave with Sarah today. It’s just not happening.

  If he comes back with a lawyer, we’ll work that out too.

  I hold all the power and for the first time in a long time, that feels really, really good.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter

  Henry

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into my lie.”

  Jane is lying on my bed where she belongs, Sarah is fast asleep in a Pack ’n Play in the next room. Jet and Rocket already cleaned up and left after joining us for a small celebration dinner.

  The pumpkin patch did far better than I could have ever anticipated, thanks to Jane’s help. The real pumpkin judge eventually showed up to measure and weigh Big Daddy. I didn’t win, but maybe some other year. I don’t care all that much. Well, I will, once the seed-planting season comes around again and I go back down my internet rabbit hole to find other obsessed people to trade with.

  But right now, I could not be more content, and I could not care less what Jane lied about to protect her family.

  “So make me an honest man, Jane. Marry me. And let me legally adopt Sarah.”

  She bolts upright. “What?”

  I laugh, wondering how she could be surprised by this. “You’re it for me, Jane. I love you. And I love Sarah. And this right here is exactly what I want my life to look like. I want to be here for you, and I want you to be here for me. I want us to raise Sarah together and I want to make even more babies with you.”

  Jane knows how to keep a man on tenterhooks. She just sits there and stares at me, wide-eyed, with her hand over her mouth.

  “Jane. Blink. Wave a flag. Something. Please. You’re killing me.”

  The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, being pleasurably assaulted with her mouth on mine, her hands tugging at my clothes, her voice whispering my name into my mouth. We share one breath while we kiss and caress, deftly—and sometimes clumsily—removing the pesky shirts that separate us from skin to skin contact. She’s so warm and sweet against me, it tugs at some primal thing inside my body. I have to restrain myself from turning into a wild, chest-thumping creature. I never saw myself that way, but she rouses an intense protectiveness in me. It’s not not me; it’s a spark that I’ve never followed before.

  The kissing and whispering only stop when I feel a dampness on my cheek. I pull away from the kiss to cup her face and kiss away her tears.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “Yes, Henry. I love you so damn much. And I’m not sorry I lied. I was speaking into existence what I wanted. I think a part of me knew the second I met you. I’m only sorry I lost your number after that first day at the fair.”

  I’m done using words. I’m so happy I can’t even think of anything else to say or do but ravage her.

  Just the other day I had promised to take it slow, kiss her everywhere, pleasure every inch of her, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. While we savor each other’s kiss, my body eases her onto her back. I settle my body between her legs, my erect cock nestled against her heat, which radiates through her panties all the way through my boxers. She sighs into my mouth and says, “Did you bring a condom?”

  I smile as I nuzzle her neck with my lips and my tongue, then reply, “Yeah.” God, she smells so damn good.

  “Toss it. I want another baby now, Henry.”

  Looking into her eyes, I see she’s dead serious. This might be a heat of passion decision, but much worse things have been decided in the heat of passion.

  I tease her sweet lips with my tongue and reply, “Oh yeah. We’re doing this. But first, you gotta do me a favor. I need to taste your honey. I wanna make you come so hard with my mouth.”

  Her only response is a guttural moan as I slowly kiss down her neck, leaving soft kisses between her breasts. My cock is so warm from the contact between her panties and my boxers, I can almost feel the wetness soaking through the more I kiss her. I ease my cock away, and she jerks her hips to meet mine.

  “Oh, you’re gonna get this fat dick, sweetheart. But I meant what I said about taking it slow.”

  She whines and slides her soft thighs over my hips, stroking me with her legs while I unclasp her bra, slowly moving the straps from her shoulders. She raises her arms to get rid of it, and after she does, I grip her arms above her head against the pillow.

  I kiss the imprint of the straps in her skin, licking and massaging, then move my mouth across her collarbone. “Hold on to the headboard,” I tell her. She obeys without a word and I let go of her arms.

  I kiss down her sternum and slowly kiss my way over to one rosy nipple, teasing it with my tongue while she writhes under me. When I switch to the other one at a slow, torturing pace, she squeezes my middle with her legs.

  I kiss my way down to her tummy while my hands overflow with her breasts. My loving kisses continue lower, below her navel. My hands let go of her breasts so I can caress and kiss her faint stretch marks.

  “Oh god, that part,” she says with a giggle.

  I kiss and lick lower, smoothing my hand over her pelvis, hips, belly button. “I told you I was gonna kiss every inch of you, and I meant it. Every bit of you is beautiful, and it’s all mine, sweetheart.”

  The teasing, kissing, and breathing through the fabric of her panties makes her buck against me. I hold her steady and lick all the way from the back to the front, where I can already feel her clit through the thin material.

  I kiss achingly slowly down the inside of her thigh, all the way down to her knee, then back up again and down the other thigh.

  “Is it OK if I suck here a little bit? It might leave a mark,” I ask, slightly suctioning the soft skin of her inner thigh.

  “Please,” she rasps.

  “So polite,” I rumble against her pussy, still licking the source of her heat through the fabric.

  Her begging moans almost have me ready to rip her soaked undies off and get to the most fun part. But not quite yet. I have to tease her a little more by kissing upward, past her clit, pressing kisses against her soft mound.

  Finally, I rise to my knees, inch her panties off, and let her watch me rub them across my chest.

  “Oh my god,” she whispers, almost laughing. “My granny panties.”

  “That’s right,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about your panties all day, about what they would taste like after you spent all day working outside. They taste like heaven, and heaven is my woman.”

  Soft, gentle, teasing kisses all over her clit, her sweet folds, and her entrance occupy me for the next several minutes. Her moans make me want to dive in and finish her off completely, but the soft teasing makes her insanely wet. I have to restrain myself from punching the air in victory. If she sees me rejoicing after making her so wet she drips, I’m pretty sure she’ll rightly call me out for acting like an ass.

  Instead, I plunge into what I’ve been waiting to do all day: relaxing my tongue against her heated, wet skin and licking up to her clit. But so slowly, it takes several agonizing seconds. By the time I reach her clit, her entire body has stiffened and her back arches off the mattress in her climax.

  I ease back from touching her clit to kiss her folds, her sweet cunt, savoring all the honey between her legs.

  “Mine,” I whisper. “All for me.”

  I continue loving on her, kissing back up her tummy, her ribcage, her breasts and finally sharing her honey with her lips.

  Still hanging on to the headboard, Jane begins using her feet to tug at the waistband of my drawers. “I need your cock right now, Henry.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jane

  “You can let go of the headboard, baby,” he says.

  I forgot I was still hanging on.

  “I need your hands on me. I need your arms around me, Jane.”

  How did I end up with the sexiest, sweetest, most beautifully dirty-minded soul in existence?

  I let go and reach down, helping him off with his boxers. I hadn’t gotten a good look at his cock when we fucked on top of the giant pumpkin yesterday. It’s perfect and lovely, just like my Henry. I run my hands over the soft skin, gently squeezing the hard length. A small bead of precum appears. Henry sees me lick my lips and try to clean it for him, but he threads his fingers through my hair to hold me still.

  “No. Not tonight. That’s all going inside your pussy, do you hear me?”

  I blink and smile at him shyly, certainly more demurely than I would outside the bedroom. In here, with him, my body wants him to control me because I trust him implicitly. He’s proven himself to be a good man. The best man. The man I love.

  He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me onto his lap. I guide his cock to where it needs to go while he goes back to caressing and kissing my breasts.

  “I want to be buried so deep inside you that I lose myself,” he rasps.

  I seat myself around him, slide him in where he belongs. My muscles grip him so damn tight. He fits so perfectly, feels so good, we each might lose ourselves in the other.

  “I never want to stop touching you as long as I live, sweetheart.”

  I close my eyes and revel in his caresses while I move against him, pulling him in, then gripping him hard as I let him slide out. Every thrust is pure joy. Every touch, every kiss is heaven.

  “Open your eyes and look down, Jane.”

  When I do, I see what’s happening. I see the place where he ends and I begin, and I never want us to break apart.

  Henry roars out his release, filling me with his warmth. We hold each other until he finishes, until I milk out every drop.

  We ease back onto the mattress together, breathless, filled, but not entirely satisfied. He doesn’t know it but we’re going to do that again. A lot. Every night.

  “We’re going to make a baby,” I say.

  “Damn right,” he says, kissing my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, and my lips, then pulling me in close and tight. No matter how close, it’s never close enough.

  “I love you so much, Henry.”

  He reaches over to cup my face, then brushes my hair away. “You’re my angel that I’ve been waiting for my whole life, and I can’t wait to see how much better life can get with my Jane and our babies in it.”

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  Henry

  My wife’s capital investment firm and business incubator have taken off so well, every downtown storefront is full.

  She still takes time off around September and October to help with the pumpkin patch and corn maze, even though I don’t ask her to. The rest of the year she heads up a small company that helps grow local micro-businesses.

  “Good news,” Jane says as she arrives home one day while I’m poring over seed magazines. She kicks off her work shoes at the front door and peels off her tailored jacket that strains over her pregnant belly. “Shelley’s Bees has decided to stay. Their five-year commitment is up, but they’re going to make this their flagship store and expand into the city. Isn’t that fantastic? I have so many ideas.”

  Sarah, now six, is watching a Disney princess movie with her baby sister, Raya, who’s three years old. We had some struggles with fertility and were blessed with Raya after two rounds of IVF. Jane decided to freeze her eggs as soon as we agreed we both wanted more kids, so now at 35, she’s pregnant again.

  I follow her as she pads around the house, kissing the girls on the tops of their heads, making her way to the bedroom to take off her suit, slipping into her yoga pants and tee-shirt, pulling up her hair into a messy bun. This is her routine. I never get tired of watching it.

  I follow Jane to the bathroom to watch her wash the makeup off her face, and then we go to the kitchen, where I make her a mocktail of cranberry juice and soda.

  She tells me all about the ways she’s going to help the bee company make the local flagship store a tourist attraction. It’s already got a huge online business, so she and Shelley are thinking up ways to beautify downtown. “We’re thinking of a little pocket park with an enclosed glass beehive at eye level for kids, a kiosk with information about all the uses for beeswax, and a little gazebo and picnic area—all sponsored by Shelley. It’s going to be so cute.”

  I love my wife so intensely when she’s thinking up her big ideas.

  A small part of it hurts my heart because I compare her to Uncle Howie. He had big, crazy ideas, but he was only interested in making money, taking shortcuts—tragic shortcuts—not making anything truly lasting or helpful or beautiful. If only she had met him, maybe she could have helped him create a better legacy for himself.

  Not that I mind still being the town pariah. The right people always migrate to you. The pumpkin patch and corn maze have grown and attracted people from all over the state. Every year I have at least one pumpkin place in the top ten in the national pumpkin growing contest. It takes a while to build up the right soil and get just the right seeds and environment to grow the big 1,000-pounders.

  And as for Carl, Sarah’s biological dad, he agreed to visitations regularly as a non-custodial parent. He maintains friendly contact with Sarah, and we’ve explained to Sarah who he is. She seems to understand and doesn’t mind the visits. Carl eventually apologized for the way he treated Jane, and he’s got his own family now. We’ll never be great friends with him, and I think everyone understands that’s for the best.

  We barely give him a thought these days because both of us are so busy with our growing family and expanding projects around town. I’d like to think I paid the community back by expanding the pumpkin patch enough to include a huge playground and free produce whenever I have a bumper crop. Not only that, but the gift shop now sells locally made gifts and baked goods, and I’m thinking of starting a farmer’s market next year.

  I give most of the credit to our success to my wife and her amazing brain.

  She takes her drink out to the back porch and stretches out on the patio sofa. I automatically tug her feet into my lap and rub them while she sips her drink and continues to chatter.

  She sighs, finally relaxing into the massage and coming down from her stimulating day at work. When I hear her sigh, I press the pad of my thumb gently into the special spot on her foot that I’ve come to know makes her a little horny.

  “Henry,” she chides. I pretend to concentrate on her feet, but I peek over and see her resting her head to the side, against the couch cushion.

  I do the same to the other foot, making her switch from contented sighs to a delighted hum.

  “Am I pushing your buttons, sweetheart?”

  “I’m not a microwave oven, babe. I’m not gonna heat up just because you pressed a button.”