5 comments/ 9399 views/ 3 favorites Into the Garden Ch. 25-27 By: carlieplum Author's Note: Belinda Sutter, pampered daughter of wealthy Southerners, fell in love with Sam Greene, a young biracial man from Chicago who attends the same college in Mississippi as she does, while he was working at her family's home the summer before her senior year of college and his final year before completing his M.B.A. The couple are now married and expecting their first child. Sam's biracial parents are warm and accepting, and while Sam has even won the grudging acceptance of Belinda's parents, while her brother Chip remains estranged. As an FYI, Sam doesn't have a monster cock and Belinda doesn't turn into a complete sex-crazed moron the first time she gets with a black guy. If that's your thing, enjoy, but this isn't the story for you. As always, I love comments and feedback. I hope you enjoy this final (almost) installment of Sam and Belinda's story. * Sam pushed open the door to his parent's two-story penthouse. "Anybody home? Sean, you back?" he called as he led his wife, Belinda, back toward the bedroom they stayed in when they visited; Sam's old room, but updated and made more hospitable. His parents were still at his father's company party and were meeting old friends to ring in the New Year. Sam's brother Sean was supposed to be out at a club with his girlfriend Janice, but Sam just wanted to make sure they were alone. "I had a good time with you tonight, sweetheart," he said. "Me too. Your dad really made me feel comfortable, and Sean was cool too. I'm still worried about how I'll survive winter; I hope you salary will fund a high heating bill. But I'm getting ready to live here. I think it's going to be good." "You know what I think is going to be good?" Sam asked, pulling her close. "Getting you in the bedroom and collecting my second Christmas present." "Have you been a very good boy?" Belinda asked, her eyes twinkling as Sam took off her coat and hung it up for her. "Not entirely, no. But my gift certificate wasn't from Santa Claus, Lindy. And as I recall, you like it when I'm kind of a bad boy." "True enough," Belinda answered as Sam returned from the closet and swept her into his arms. He stood behind her, the pair looking on the two-story plate-glass windows that flanked one wall of the penthouse, taking in the beauty of the city at night. Soon enough, Sam was more interested in the beauty in his arms than the beauty outside. He ran his hands up and down her arms, then on to her waist and hips, feeling every curve. One large hand snaked behind, cupping an ass cheek and giving it a squeeze as his other hand ran gently through Belinda's long curly hair. "I always feel so safe here, Sam," she murmured. "What do you mean?" Sam asked, as he pressed his now-hard cock up against his wife, pulling her back against him with an arm just above her baby bump. "Chicago, in your parents' house, with you. I guess I don't realize how much the looks and comments bother me when we're at school." "It's only one more semester baby. You'll just be on campus a bit, and you'll be working otherwise. It's going to be okay." "I know, I know. It's not so terrible. Anyway, it just feels better here, even if it is freezing. But how am I going to have a garden?" she said, suddenly, her mind on her beloved kitchen garden. "Dad and I drove by some really nice houses. If you want to garden more than the season allows, I'll build you a greenhouse. Heated even." "That would be amazing. Sam! I could grow herbs and flowers and maybe even some vegetables and fruit. I love a kitchen garden." "You know, I've got something growing right now," Sam bantered, putting Belinda's hand on his crotch. She laughed, a sweet loving laugh. "You never stop, do you? Come on then, let's go in the bedroom." They walked hand in hand to their room, and Sam pushed the door closed behind him before he sat down in a wingback chair. "Undress for me Belinda. I didn't get to see you get ready. Let me see it in reverse." Belinda walked to the dresser, pulling out her diamond studs and dropping them with a clink into the crystal jewelry holder on the dresser. Knowing Sam was watching her, she moved more slowly and languorously. She pulled out the crystal clips she had put in her hair and began brushing out her hair. It had gotten a bit darker in the winter, and Sam thought it made her look more glamorous. When her hair was smooth and soft, she grabbed a soft elastic band and made ponytail, turning it into a low knot at the base of her top of her neck. She stepped out of her black-patent shoes and lifted her red dress over her head, hanging it carefully in the closet. Like her dress, most of her underwear was red. A red lacy bra held in her burgeoning C-cup breasts; they clearly had ambitions of being D-cups before this motherhood thing was through. To match she had put on a pair of matching lace tanga panties that rode low enough that they didn't rub against her belly, and, the piece de résistance, a black maternity garter belt with stockings she had searched for hours online to find. Sam took a low breath. "You like?" Belinda asked. "Oh, I like. In fact, why don't you climb up on the bed and leave all that on." Sam quickly stripped and joined Belinda on the bed. Lying down on his side, he propped up a knee as Belinda scooched down and used his other thigh as a pillow. He stroked her loose hair softly as she stuck out her tongue and gave the end of his hard cock a lick. He was already dripping pre-cum and she moaned softly as she tasted the sweet wetness. Not taking him in her mouth yet, she bathed his brown cock with her pink tongue, licking it from the base to the tip, running her warm little tongue over the sensitive head. Sam watched her, feeling the amazing sensations, knowing she was loving the little show she was giving him. Then, without warning, she had the tip of him in her mouth, her lips tight just around the base of the head, swirling her tongue all over his hard, tight cockhead. Sam closed his eyes and moaned as Belinda moved down farther, taking more of him in her mouth, curling her tongue up to press up against him as she moved up and down on his shaft. He started to thrust into her, but Belinda quickly pushed her hand against his hipbone. She was controlling the speed tonight. Releasing him from her hot mouth, she slid down further, spending long minutes licking and sucking his balls, taking each one in his mouth as her fingers danced over his cock, rubbing it gently but not stroking him. Sam moaned again. It was torture, but torture of the best kind. He wanted to come so badly, but at the same time he wanted to watch Belinda forever, her mouth and hands adoring his manhood. She was licking him again, every inch of him damp from her mouth but wanting so badly to be inside her sweet lips. "Please baby, suck me. I can't stand it. Suck me." Belinda took him full into her mouth, sliding up and down, her soft hand covering the base of his shaft, her hand and mouth moving up and down in concert as Sam felt his orgasm build. But still, when he tried to thrust deeper into him, she held him back, her fingers pressing firmly into him. "Oh baby, that's so good," he encouraged. "I'm going to come in your hot little mouth. Just keep doing that baby. You're so perfect, so beautiful." Belinda was moaning now, her own desire overtaking her. She had pushed her lacy red panties to the side and was rubbing her clit, her moans around Sam's cock taking on greater urgency, vibrating him deliciously as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth. Sam swung his hips again, and this time she didn't stop him. Lost in her own pleasure, she let him take over, fucking her sweet, warm mouth slowly as she ran her fingers over her clit, her moaning almost nonstop now as she kept her lips wrapped around Sam's cock. Belinda's fingers were wet with her juices, the slickness matching the slippery pre-cum that oozed from Sam's cock. Her moaning became more frantic as her own climax built, but she never released her seal around his lips even as Sam moved faster in response to the vibrations of her lustful moans. Then he was over the edge, shooting his warm spunk into her waiting mouth. "Coming, baby, coming," he moaned. Belinda gave a deep groan of pleasure as her own orgasm shot through her, clamping her legs tight around her hand as the fire shot through her. They rested then, tired and sweaty. "What time is it, baby?" Belinda whispered after a few minutes. "It's 12:05. Happy New Year's," he said. "You know what they say, don't you? What you are doing at midnight on New Year's is what you are going to be doing all year long," he added wickedly. Belinda crawled up and kissed him on the lips, her mouth still salty from his come. "Lucky me," she said, with a smile. "I love you, Sam. You're my world." Without waiting for an answer, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Sam pulled a blanket over them, spooning up behind her. Although he knew she wouldn't hear him, he answered, "I love you forever, Lindy." The trip to Chicago had gone by too fast, and Belinda had cried a little when Colleen and Michael dropped them off at the airport. She smiled, thinking of how Sean had patted her belly before she left, "Take care of my little nephew in there." "It could be a niece, you know, Sean," she had said, smiling. She was so happy the ice between her and her brother had finally thawed. "An uncle knows these things. And feel free to name him after me. Sean II sounds a lot better than Sam, Junior. Trust me on this." "Take that one up with your brother. Although Chantal might be good for a girl, and it's got the same sound as Sean, even if it's spelled differently." "I've got $20 bucks that says it's a boy, but you can name the next one Chantal. I like it," Sean had answered. CHAPTER 26 The semester had only started, and Sam was already deep in projects and papers. Belinda was glad she had the job working in Lana's interior décor shop or she would be lonely and bored at their apartment. Lana might be fantastically creative and inspired, but her organizational skills left something to be desired, and Belinda was spending hours getting a logical filing system in place and entering data into QuickBooks as she investigated some small-business software that would automate and track more of what went on in the shop. Best of all, she was learning more about how the design business worked and getting great ideas about how to work with clients and find inspiration. Work was a lot more challenging that school. Her human biology class, the only one she needed to graduate, was a breeze. Reading all the pregnancy books had really paid off, so she hardly needed to study. But even though she knew most of the material, she liked her teacher, Professor Dunfee, who reminded her of her obstetrician Dr. Davidson, a friendly uncle type. He had big, fluffy white eyebrows that wiggled as he lectured in his animated fashion, and she looked forward to class. By the second week of class, most students had settled into a usual seat. Belinda slid into hers on Thursday to find an envelope addressed to her on her typical desk. She slid the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Inside was a picture of her, taken recently, but not one she had posed for. Behind her, someone had Photoshopped in a Confederate flag and below her, in heavy black type, she saw the words, "N*****-loving WHORE!!!" Her whole body ran cold as she glanced around. No one seemed to be looking at her or aware of what she had in her hands, which were shaking. She sat in the seat, frozen, unsure of what to do, the paper crumpled in her lap. Professor Dunfee came in and began lecturing, but Belinda didn't hear a word. She understood that some people didn't approve of her relationship, but she couldn't understand a hate so deep that it would make someone attack like this. All her life, her nannies, the housekeepers, most of the people who had loved her and cared for her, she realized, had been black. Almost without thinking, her hand shot up in the air. "Yes?" Professor Dunfee said, calling on her. Belinda stood up in her third-row seat, turned and faced the 150 or so students in the large lecture hall. She held up the note over her head. "Whoever the chicken is who left this note on my seat, the next time you have something to say, say it to my face." She glanced around the room. A few students looked shocked, others looked down uncomfortably as she continued to hold the paper with the hate-filled words up for everyone to see." Her whole body was trembling now, and she felt cold all over, but she couldn't sit down, willing the writer to stand up and confess. But the room was silent except for clearing throats and shuffling feet. Suddenly, Professor Dunfee was beside her, his voice kindly as his warm hand took her arm and helped her sit down before he glanced at the note and blanched as he took it in. "What's your name?" the professor asked. In a class of more than 100 students, he couldn't possibly know them all by name. "Belinda, Belinda Greene." "Ms. Greene, I want you to take this note and go straight to the campus police with it. Are you okay to walk or should I send another student with you?" "No, I can go alone," Belinda answered. Professor Dunfee addressed the class, "We will continue with the lecture now, but let me just assure each and every one of you, if I find out one of my students is the creator of this message, you will fail this class and I will do everything I can to see that you are expelled from this university." The police officer Belinda met with was kind enough, although Belinda didn't get the sense that he took the matter very seriously. Still, he put the note in an evidence envelope and took a statement before offering Belinda a ride back to her car. Belinda was dreading telling Sam, knowing he was going to lose his temper. Even if he wasn't yelling at her, she didn't like it when he got angry. But Sam surprised her, remaining calm when she told him the whole story. "Are you feeling okay? If you are, I'm going to go outside and make a few phone calls," he said. "I feel like I need some fresh air." Sam rode the elevator down to the parking garage, his breath pounding in and out as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating, barely keeping his rage in check until he was alone in the parking garage, where he could let loose with a string of expletives as he pounded his fists into the concrete walls until his anger dissipated enough for him to call a few friends without sounding like a raving lunatic. He knew Dane would be working, but Ben had a break and said he could easily walk Belinda from the parking garage and back again; he could use the time during her class to study. "Sam, I don't need a babysitter," Belinda insisted, when Sam told her Ben would be escorting her to class. But, Sam insisted that for the rest of the semester, she wasn't going to class alone. He even stood over her shoulder and watched her email her professor, asking if it was okay if Ben sat in the back row during the lecture. As she slipped into her seat the next class period, she could see the piece of paper on her desk, folded just like the last one. Belinda glanced back at Ben, but he was opening his backpack and pulling out a textbook. She flipped it open: again the Confederate flag, but this time, no picture of her, just the words, Friends don't let friends fuck N*******. Belinda stuffed the paper inside a notebook. Unlike when she had gotten the first note, she felt unfazed, deciding she wouldn't tell Ben or Sam. Some loser with a printer was no big deal, she assured herself. On the way out of class, she wadded up the note and dropped it in the trash. As February neared its close, Belinda had another checkup with Dr. Davidson. She was past week 28 of her pregnancy, and everything was looking fine. Work at Lana's was good, although she still found herself lonely as Sam and her closest friends were so busy with classes, while she just had the one and job that only kept her busy a few hours a week. She pulled out of the doctor's parking lot and headed off to school, wishing Sam would let her go to class without Ben tagging along. She liked Ben a lot, but it made her feel silly, his hulking figure sitting in the back row, and everyone in the class knowing he was there for her. She didn't need a bodyguard. "Hi Ben," she said, parking her car and sliding out of the seat at their designated meeting spot. "What do you think about ending this little arrangement? You have to be getting bored. Nothing's happening. Whoever sent the notes is obviously over it." "Notes?" Ben asked. "I only know about one note. What notes?" he said, accenting the last letter. "Well, there was one more, the first day you came with me. It was no big deal. No picture of me. Just generic. I tossed it." "Belinda, Sam put me in charge of taking care of you while you are on campus. That is not cool that you didn't tell me." "Really, Ben, it's no big deal. And nothing has happened since then. Clearly whoever it was got bored when I didn't react to the second note..." Ben was silent for a minute, then answered. "You may be right. I watch the class from the back and I don't see anyone paying particular attention to you. I'll make you a deal, if you tell Sam about the second note, I'll tell him that I don't see anything sketchy going on." "Deal," Belinda said, happily. They were climbing the steps to her second floor classroom, and as they reached the top, Ben saw them before she did, and tried vainly to block her view. All down the hall, there were dozens of them, taped to the walls and the doors. No words this time on the signs, no slipping it on her desk. Several students stood around, not sure what to do. On the paper was a picture of Sam and Belinda, walking and holding hands on the street where Lana's shop was. Belinda realized it had been taken recently as her baby bump was showing and that it had been taken off campus, meaning someone had followed them and knew where she worked. Ben was swiftly pulling the signs down, but he wasn't fast enough. Finally Belinda processed the whole sign—again the Confederate flag, and this time nooses around her neck and around Sam's. She felt cold all over and lightheaded. Her vision seemed to tunnel in, until all she could see was just the small space in front of her. "Ben," she whispered, "can you please take me home?" Ben grabbed her arm. "Okay, let's go. The elevator is right over here. You don't look like you can walk so good right now." Ben seemed very far away, but Belinda clutched onto him as he got her into the elevator and out of the building. The air helped a little, but a strange pain was building in her back as Ben walked with her, his arm tightly around her. The pain was building, and with it sharp cramps in her sides and belly. Even with Ben holding her up, Belinda was finding it hard to walk. Finally, she let herself go limp and sat on the sidewalk, moaning softly. She felt hot and cold, all at the same time, and the pain wouldn't stop. "Belinda, what's wrong? Talk to me; you are scaring me right now," Ben pleaded, his face tight with concern. "I hurt. My back, my belly. Something's not right. Can you call Sam? And I think I need to go to the emergency room." In a second, Ben had Belinda scooped into his arms and was moving as fast as he could back to her car. He got her buckled in and was driving before he called Sam. "Dude, there were a bunch of signs hung up today, everywhere in the hall. I thought Belinda was just upset. We left right away but now something is wrong." He paused and glanced over at Belinda who was still moaning softly and holding her middle tightly. "Belinda asked me to take her to the hospital. She seems like she's in pain. We'll be there in five minutes." Into the Garden Ch. 25-27 "I'm on my way," Sam answered, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Can I talk to Lindy? I'll call the cops as soon as we get off. You just stay focused on her." Ben reached the phone toward Belinda. He had tilted the seat as far back as it would go to try to make her comfortable, and she was curled up, pulling her knees up as far as she could. She looked pale and tiny and very, very scared. Some fucking bodyguard he was, he swore silently to himself. "Belinda, it's Sam. Take the phone." "Lindy, you there?" At the sound of Sam's voice, Belinda, broke into tears, "Sam, I'm so scared. Come now. You have to come now. It hurts and I think it's something with the baby." "It's going to be okay, baby. It's going to be okay. I'm calling Dr. Davidson right now. I'll be there in a minute and Ben is going to stay with you until I get there." After that, everything seemed to move double-time. By the time Ben pulled up at the ER, Sam had reached Dr. Davidson, and the OB had a team waiting to help Belinda. When Sam arrived just a few minutes behind, Belinda was already in a trauma room, with an IV in her arm dripping drugs that would hopefully stop or at least slow the premature labor that was causing the pain and speed up the baby's lung development. At the same time, the campus police, with help from the town police was dusting the hallway and signs for fingerprints. "Sam and Belinda," Dr. Davidson was telling them, "I want you try to stay as calm as possible. The calmer you are, the more likely the drugs will work and we can stop this labor. We also have stronger drugs we haven't tried yet. In the meantime, your baby's lungs are getting a boost every minute it is on the steroids we are sending into your bloodstream, Belinda. A full 95 percent of babies born at 28 weeks survive, although it will mean a long stay in the NICU. And your baby doesn't have any other health issues we can see, so I see no reason why it wouldn't be in the 95 percent. I'll check in on you in an hour, but the nurses have orders to page me immediately if anything changes." Colleen was on the first plane she could catch out of Chicago, "Having a doctor in the family has advantages. There's no reason not to use them," she told Sam. "It's going to be okay, I promise. Just stay calm for Belinda. I'll be there in a few hours." "How am I supposed to stay calm, Mom?" Sam asked, crying now, as he crouched down in the stairwell near Belinda's room with the phone pressed to his ear. "Everyone keeps telling me to stay calm, but I don't know how. I just want to get her out of here. I tried to protect her, but I can't. Mom, what will we do if something happens to the baby?" "Sam," his mother answered, "you don't have to feel calm if you can't, but you can fake it. If that's what you have to do, do it. If she sees you upset, and she gets upset, the drugs she's on aren't going to be enough to keep her from going into labor. Cry as much as you need to, baby, but when you walk back in that room, you have to look confident. You have to tell her everything is going to be okay and mean it." Belinda was sleeping, unaware that her mother was on her way or that her dad had jumped into the car after speaking to Sam and was speeding up the freeway. Assured that Belinda was stable and not in any danger, he went not to the hospital, but to the police station. "How much of a reward do I need to put up to make sure someone turns this bastard in?" he asked the detective. "$10,000 should do it," the detective answered. "These are college students, so that's a fair amount of cash. You can up it if you don't get results." John pulled out his checkbook and wrote a $10,000 check. "And I'll make a $25,000 gift to the police department when he's brought to trial. I'm sure there are some things you officers could use to make your work easier," he said as he handed it over. Belinda slept on through the evening newscast where the police chief announced the $10,000 reward for anyone with information that led to the arrest of the person responsible for hanging the signs, which had now been designated a hate crime. They didn't indicate the stiff penalties that might attach if anything happened to Belinda or the baby, for fear of scaring off any informants. The police worked hard, but in the end, shitbags have shitbags for friends, so their job wasn't too difficult. Shitbags are happy to rat someone out for $10 grand. A suspect was in custody by noon the next day: Ed Hollis. Big and dumb, he claimed he was just doing something a former fraternity brother had paid him few hundred dollars to help out with. He hadn't made the signs, he told the detectives. He'd just gotten them emailed to him, printed them, and delivered them, either to Belinda's desk or the hallway. The detective rubbed his eyes when Hollis gave up the name of the frat brother, not a student, but a guy who had graduated a few years back. This was not going to be pretty. Belinda was safely being cared for by Colleen, Dr. Davidson, and a team of nurses, so when the police called asking for Sam and John Sutter to join them at the station the next afternoon, everyone assured them it was fine to go. The detective sat them down in a quiet room, offering the two men coffee, soda, or water before they got started. "Ed Hollis we got straight up. The charges will depend on what happen with Mrs. Greene and the baby, but in truth, as long as they are okay, I don't expect him to do a lot of time if any. He will most likely walk with a fine, community service, and a suspended sentence. He's got a totally clean record and his lawyer is going say this was just a prank gone too far. I know that's not what you want to hear, but that's realistic. In the win column, he's going to wind up charged with a felony. They'll plead him down, but he's not going to walk away without a criminal record, especially as he confessed to sending the previous notes. And," the detective went on, "we've turned everything we have over to the campus police and the university has already begun the process of expelling him. He's not getting off scott-free." The room was silent for a few seconds, both John and Sam releasing the breath they didn't realize they had been holding, then the detective spoke again. "There is one more thing you need to know. Hollis claims that he did everything he did at the request of a former student, a frat brother of his. The former student allegedly paid him a little money and Hollis went along with it. We've got proof of some of what Hollis claims from his computer. We can't confirm all of it, but enough of it to indicate the second person made the signs and told Hollis where to put them and when. What we don't have is any proof of a promise of money, or any sign that cash changed hands. Based on that, this second person won't be charged. The district attorney doesn't feel it is worth it." The detective fell silent again. Sam and John Sutter waited. "The person Hollis says paid him," the detective said, handing a pile of printed emails to the two men, "is John Sutter IV, who I understand goes by the name Chip." John Sutter III sat still for a moment. His own son had done this-- done a thing that could kill his grandchild. He looked at Sam and then the detective. There was nothing to say. His mind raced as he read through the emails, saw the attachments that showed his son had created an image of his daughter with a noose around her neck. He had fathered a person who could do such a thing, who did do such a thing. His insides seething with anger, pain, and disgust, John Sutter did what had made him the successful man he was: he got down to business, flipping open his cell phone and calling his executive assistant. "Janie, you got a pen and paper? Make a list of the things I want done by this time tomorrow." "One: Chip is fired, effective now. No severance pay. Pay him out for any vacation or sick time we owe him. His health insurance gets cancelled as soon as it can be. I think we paid for him through the 30th. Cancel his corporate credit card effective five minutes ago. As soon as he is notified, send a mass email to anyone he could place an order with informing them he is not with the company and is not authorized to assume any debts on our behalf as of right now." "Two: Call the company lawyer. Confirm that if someone is fired for breaking the law, moral turpitude, that kind of thing, we don't owe him residual commissions. I think that's the standard contract, but have him double-check it." "Three: I want all the physical locks reset and the passwords changed on all the networks. Not just the locks on the office and warehouse, but on all the vehicles as well. Actually, make that priority one. No new keycard or network access for Chip, of course, and have the IT guy make sure the network is locked down tight. As soon as that is all done, fire him—I'm emailing you the termination text in a moment. Have security with you when you do it. And make sure security gets the keys to the company car." "Four, but this is actually a one too. I want my house completely rekeyed, and I want the security company notified that Chip should be treated as a trespasser if he steps foot on the property. Make sure to have all the security codes reset, disabling Chip's access to turn off the alarm. Ask Mrs. Sims to box up all of Chip's things at the house and have them delivered to his apartment by a delivery service. Mr. Sims is driving Mrs. Sutter up to the hospital right now. Tell Mrs. Sims I want her in the main house, not the caretaker's residence, until I get back to town. And I want security to step up patrols on the house and the business." "Five, check on this with the lawyers too. We need to send a letter out to all of our suppliers and regular buyers, letting them know about the staff changes. Find out how far we can go letting people know that if they want to continue working with us, they won't offer Chip a job without getting us sued. Oh, and make sure security takes Chip's iPhone too when you fire him. The company owns that and I'm sure it's got plenty of data on it." "I think that's it, but I'll call you back in a bit." He flipped the phone closed. Janie hung up the phone and got to work. Chip had treated her like an ignorant bimbo ever since he came to work for his father; this was going to be a pure pleasure. "Officer," John Sutter said, "Even if he doesn't face any legal penalties, although I hope you find something that will stick, in 24 hours, John Sutter IV is going to be unemployed, mostly unemployable, and broke." Sam didn't say a word. He couldn't imagine what his father was going through—he just knew he had acted in full support of Belinda and their baby, with not a thought for Chip's future, except to destroy most of it in a matter of hours. The anger that had been building in him, the plans he had begun to form of finding Chip and beating him with a baseball bat, all had dissipated as he listened to his father in law calmly do more than the law likely would or could ever do to Chip. "Do you want to talk about what happens next?" the detective was asking. "Sam, I hate hospitals. I can do something useful here. You go on back and check on your wife. We'll call each other as needed." Sam didn't need to be asked twice; he almost flew out the door, deciding as he strode out of the police station that he would keep Chip's involvement a secret for as long as possible. Not for Chip's sake, but to protect Belinda. He called John, "John, I thought of one thing. I don't know how Susannah is going to take this, but can you get her to keep it from Belinda for a while? Dr. Davidson says she needs to stay calm for the drugs to work." Sam found it hard to stay even-keeled when he got back to the hospital and learned that the first-line labor-blocking drug they tried wasn't so successful, so they were teaming it with a second drug. Still, the nurses assured him, every extra minute in the womb was helping his baby. The steroids they were putting in the IV were speeding up the infant's lung development, which was one of the biggest challenges for preemies. Fighting his fear, he remembered what Dr. Davidson and his mother had both told him, that he had to stay calm for Belinda's sake. He gave Ben a big hug before he went in the room. Ben was sitting in the hall studying. He had left the hospital only for a few hours at time since this ordeal started, just to shower, change, hit the one or two classes he couldn't miss, and pick up food for everyone. He had even spent the night on a sofa in the visitor's center. "It's all over bro. They caught the guy. Why don't you go home and get some rest? Looks like you could use it. And thank you, Ben. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there..." "Hey baby," Sam joked as he entered the room. "Are you sure there wasn't a simpler way to get out of bio class..." Belinda gave him a thin smile, then reached out her hand to him. "Dr. Davidson says the second drug is really knocking down the contractions," he told her. "That's good news. I guess he's going to meet with us later today when he gets done with his appointments to talk about where we go from here, but it sounds like baby Greene might be willing to hang out in your belly a while longer," Sam continued talking, stroking Belinda's hands and her hair, just assuring with his calm demeanor and soft voice, that everything was going to be okay. She had heard it from the doctors and nurses, even from her mother, but it didn't sink in until she saw how unruffled Sam seemed to be. Maybe it was okay to relax. Belinda drifted off to sleep again. Colleen, who had left the room to give the couple some time alone, came back in and showed Sam what the different monitors meant. "This is the best I've seen them look all day, Sam. I know you need to finish school, but we can make it quiet so you can do all your studying here. I think you being here helps her. I'm going to have to fly back to Chicago tomorrow as long as things are still stable, but we'll make sure that everything you need is taken care of. And your father or I can fly right back if you need us." "Thank, Mom," Sam said, wiping not a few teardrops on his mother's shoulder as he hugged her. CHAPTER 27 The room was quiet as two laptops clicked away, Sam on his writing up his final paper, Belinda taking her last college exam. Professor Dunfee had set up a camera in class, allowing Belinda to complete her final course via email and Skype without actually returning to the classroom. Occasionally, a monitor beeped or a medical assistant stopped by to take Belinda's vitals. "I can't believe I've been in this hospital almost two months. I'm so bored and frustrated." "Total bed rest is total bed rest, baby," Sam answered. "And don't talk to me about frustrated. Look at you all curvy and voluptuous and I can't touch you. You should have heard Dr. Davidson explaining that an orgasm could put you back into labor. I don't know who was more uncomfortable, me or him." "I can imagine. He had one of the nurses explain that to part of it to me," Belinda answered, patting her belly as a lump that was maybe a hand or maybe a foot poked her forcefully. "Yeah, yeah, kid. You are getting out soon. The doctor said they'll stop the drugs at 38 weeks and you can come out any time after that." Sam watched Belinda patting her belly. Although he was happy the doctors had been able to keep the baby from being born for so long, he couldn't wait until they saw this hospital room for the last time. "Not to change the subject," Sam said, "but did you have a chance to look at the information on that house my parents looked at for us? I know it's weird to buy a house sight unseen, but my parents think it's perfect for us. It's in great shape and Mom said she stopped by the neighborhood a few different times and it's got a lot of families with young kids and a good racial mix. She feels like we'll be very comfortable there." "I know it looks amazing, but it's such a big house for a starter home. Five bedrooms seems like so much. We agreed I'm going to stay home and try to just build a little interior design business out of the house until the baby is bigger. Can we even afford this house on just one salary?" Sam's pride got in the way of telling Belinda the whole truth about how they could afford the house, but he offered part of it. "Your parents and mine both put in some money for a down payment. They said it was a wedding gift since we never really got any." It had been hard for him to accept the cash, $30,000 from each set of parents, but a $60,000 down payment would make their mortgage manageable on his salary. "And five bedrooms isn't so big: one for us, one for a nursery, one for a guest room and one for an office. That only leaves one spare bedroom." The door swung open and Dr. Davidson poked his head in. "Okay kids, tomorrow's the big day. We're going to take Belinda off the terbutaline and no more progesterone. Baby's looking good and the lungs should be all ready for the big world. We'll have you stay 24 hours just to see if you are going to start labor right away. No use discharging you and then having you back six hours later. Any questions? Okay then, goodnight." **************************** Sam and Belinda Greene are pleased to announce the birth Of Declan Monroe Greene April 17, 11:49 a.m. 6 lbs., 5 oz. **************************** "So what did the doctor say?" Sam asked as Belinda emerged to the waiting room from her six-week postpartum visit. "Everything looks great. I'm cleared for 'all activities.' He also gave me some birth control pills." Sam picked up Declan's car seat and swung it quickly onto his arm. Six weeks as a father and he still felt incompetent a lot of the time, but some things he did with ease and grace, Belinda thought. "I got the keys to the house. The movers won't bring anything in until Monday, but why don't we stop by and walk through. We only got to see it the one time," Sam said as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. "That sounds great. Staying with your parents has been nice, but I'm ready to be back in our own place. Although I don't know what I'm going to do without the extra hands." Belinda glanced into the back seat at little Declan, sound asleep in his car seat. Green eyes of course, with black hair and a skin color that was a mix of his parents, like he had had a nice Caribbean vacation. Belinda thought he was perfect. "I don't want you to go on the pill, Lindy," Sam said out of nowhere, as they drove toward their new home. "We agreed you are going to work from home while we have little ones in the house. As long as you are up for it, we might as well have the kids close together. Anyway, think about it. We don't have to decide right now. Here we are. Wait here, okay?" Sam jumped out of the car and grabbed Declan's car seat, the baby still sleeping inside. Unlocking the house, he set the carrier down inside and went back to the car. Opening the door, he took his wife by the hand. "Come on, Lindy. I've got one last threshold to carry you over. I'm a man of my word," he said, remembering how he had carried Belinda over their secret rendezvous cabin on her parents' estate when no one knew they were married, and again over their first apartment together, back at college. He had promised when they were first married to carry her over the threshold over their first home. Inside they closed the door quietly to so as not to wake their sleeping son and padded softly through the house. In the master bedroom, they looked out the window into their small backyard. "That tree looks pretty sturdy, Lindy. I think I'm going to put a swing up in it. I know Declan's too small right now, but he'll be big enough before we know it." Into the Garden Ch. 25-27 He bent and kissed her. With all the stress they had been under—Lindy's long hospitalization, then finishing school and moving from Mississippi to Chicago, plus late nights with the baby and the stress of Sam's new job, they had gotten in the habit of falling exhausted into bed each night, with just a peck on the cheek before they quickly drifted off to sleep. Now, in the quiet house with the baby still sleeping, Sam took the time to explore Belinda's lips as she responded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself tight against his body as she sucked on his lips and swirled her tongue against his. Sam broke the kiss for just a second to pull Belinda's cotton top over her head. Jesus, her tits were amazing. Filled with milk, they were full D cups. He had loved her pert little Bs when they were dating, but now her heavy, creamy breasts held him spellbound. He dropped to his knees and expertly unclasped the bra, letting her chest swing free. He engulfed a nipple in his mouth and sucked, gasping when he realized the unfamiliar taste in his mouth was Belinda's sweet mother's milk. "Oh, baby, you have no idea how hot you are," he whispered, pulling her breast back into his mouth and sucking hard to release more of the sweet milk. As he sucked, he pulled down Belinda's skirt and lace panties. Letting them drop to the floor, he listened to Belinda's moans. Milk was dribbling out of her other nipple, the white milk running down her tummy. His head was swirling from the sight and the taste. Quickly he licked up the milk and went back to suckling her breasts. He couldn't believe his often conservative little wife was letting him do this, but he wasn't about to stop. With his thumb, he found her clit and began rubbing it in tight circles, feeling the nub harden and swell almost instantly as Belinda's moans of pleasure grew louder. "Lay down, Lindy," he said, pulling her down to the carpeted floor. It had been five months since they had been intimate, and unless the baby woke up, there was no way he was stopping now. He dove between her thighs, breathing in her musky scent then plunging his tongue into her folds, the wetness of his mouth spreading her juices around. "Oh, baby, love you. Lick me, I love you, lick me," Belinda was babbling incoherently as the pleasure overtook her, the feel of her husband's tongue firmly moving from her opening to her clit and back again, the heat of him driving her out of her mind as the pleasure built. "Coming Sam, coming, I'm coming for you, lick me baby, I'm coming," and then her legs tightened around him, shuddering as her shoulders lifted up off the floor. "Fuck me, Sam," she was begging him now, her fingers between her legs as she flicked her clit, searching for another orgasm, "I need your cock inside me. Fuck me and make me come again, please..." Sam hesitated. His cock was raging, but he didn't have any protection. He had told Belinda he didn't want her to start the pill, but they hadn't talked about it. Before he could think it through, clear the cobwebs from his lust-addled brain, Belinda's hands were at his pants, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his trousers and pushing them down. "Wait a second," he heard himself say, even as the only place he wanted to be was buried deep in Belinda's warm, tight cunt. "Why wait, baby?" Belinda asked him, a wicked grin on her face. "Declan needs a baby sister." THE END.