Loving Siblings: Aidan & Dionne Page 20

  I recall staring down at him, feeling my mouth go cork dry.

  He frowned as he looked curiously at my glasses, or rather, his reflection in my glasses. So I slipped them back, and this Boyd Aidan giggled.

  “You got DeeDee eyes!”

  “DeeDee?” I frowned with an uncertain smile.

  “Tattle-tattle DeeDee, my tween!” Boyd shouted into the direction of the porch.

  “I not tattle-tattle—Ma-maaa! Boyd mean to me!” the little girl wailed into the direction of the front door . . . and that’s when my heart began pounding in my chest.

  “Boyd!” I hear an all too familiar voice call. “DeeDee? Where’s your brother—?”

  I straighten, and turn to see Dionne, my Dionne, on the doorstep in the shade as the little boy raced up to the porch, back to his mother’s side. I had watched as she lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sharp, morning sun. And then I see her freeze. She was as white as a ghost. Without a sound, she quietly lowered her hand.

  “Mama! He Aidan too!” the boy crowed, happily. “He got DeeDee eyes! He look like Daddy!”

  I see her eyes are swimming . . . swimming with tears, and all that anger, that frustration, that disillusion I had suffered throughout those long, dark years, were washed away by her tears.

  “Aidan?” she had whispered. In the next instant, she rushed from the porch, from our past, those long five years, down the green lawn, and straight into my outstretched arms.

  I caught and held her tightly to me. My Dionne. Mine.

  Her “tweens” stand puzzled and silent on the porch.

  “Oh god, Aidan . . . Oh god,” Dionne whimpers softly against my shoulder.

  She finally pulled back. Golden-brown eyes were pouring tears. Her fingers trembled as she tenderly touched my face, as if she couldn’t believe I were there. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she had whispered through her tears. “I can’t believe you’ve finally found me.”

  Found her? Was she lost then? No. She’d been waiting for me to find her. Dionne had been waiting all those years . . . for me. Because unbeknownst to me, that one summer we were lovers, my seed hit fertile ground, and Dionne had gotten pregnant. But she didn’t want to bother me with it. She didn’t want to “ruin my life” with being a father so young.

  Silly, silly, Honey-bunny of mine.

  “Are they mine?” I recall asking, knowing the answer before she spoke, but needing to hear her tell me in her own words.

  “Don’t be angry, Aidan. Please forgive me,” she replied, instead. “I made a choice, and I didn’t want my choice to ruin your future,” she had explained, and feeling ashamed, she looked down as she moved to step back. But I knew then and there, I would never let her go. Ever again.

  My arms had tightened around her to emphasize that point.

  She had quickly looked up at me, swimming eyes are filled with hope. Tentative hope.

  “I’m not angry,” I had told her with all sincerity as I gazed into her eyes. “Surprised? Yes. Angry? Maybe for a while, but I can never stay angry with you, and I’m not angry now I’ve finally found you.”

  Her big bunny eyes slowly regained that old sparkle.

  “So . . .” I began, “what about Helmutt—”

  “—Stop it!” She had burst into giggles, wiping her tears away. She needed to relieve some pressure, and I gave her that. I had smiled, feeling myself falling in love with her all over again. “Why have you never liked Helmut, Aidan? He’s never been anything but nice—”

  “—Because you chose him over me,” I finally tell her. “And I hate him because of it.”

  She had quieted as I gazed into her shy, flickering eyes. “I never loved him,” she had finally confessed to me, saying the words I so longed to hear her say. “I’ve . . . only ever loved you.”

  Her cheeks flush, making my heart soar and sing. But I still had to know. I still needed to know. “I’m serious,” I had pressed her. “What about him? Is he still around?” I recall looking around, already knowing the answer the moment I saw her son, but I had also been playing a little trick of my own. I had been trying to buy some time as I devised a way to get Dionne into the house so we could be together.

  She shook her head with an enchantingly shy smile. “No, Aidan. I haven’t seen Helmut after that evening, when Mom and Dad took the others to the new Golf Course in El Monte. I broke up with him that night. I’m sorry I lied to you. But you wouldn’t listen, and I knew you needed to finish your education and follow your dreams.”

  “Dionne,” I had told her with all my heart. “You are my dream. You’ve always been.”

  She went silent. We stared into each other’s eyes, and we bridged five long years full of loneliness in those few seconds, and we came back together. It was as if we were never apart.

  “Ach, there you are, Aidan!” Mom chuckled, stepping outside. “Well, it took you long enough, hm?”

  “Wouldn’t have hurt to get a clue?” I recall saying as I arched a brow, but Mom dismisses me with a callous wave of her pudgy hand.

  “Would have plenty clues if you had come to the house more.”

  I chuckled. She was right. I didn’t come to the house a lot and when I was there I wanted to leave as quickly as I could.

  “Anyway, Dad and me thought you were smart enough to figure out yourself,” she scoffed with a twinkle in her eye before I bend and kiss her warm, pudgy cheek.

  “You’re forgiven,” I had whispered, and she smiled. “But no more meddling.”

  Mom huffed indignantly.

  “DeeDee. Boyd,” Dionne called her twins. Our twins. “Say hello to your father,”

  They were hers. They were mine. They were ours.

  My son. My daughter. Dionne’s children. Our twins.

  It was awesome.

  I held a twin, one in each arm, and rose with them feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. I had kissed their dark heads while Dionne had smiled brightly, tears shining in her eyes. Mom puts a loving arm around her, her pudgy face beaming with happiness, and I had a flashback, seeing an old photograph I knew all too well, and what I cherished. I used to stare at it for hours, and I used to keep it under my pillow. Today, I still carry it in my wallet.

  Mom’s always been a smart woman with a keen eye. She knew we needed to be alone together. So she steps to me, taking little Deirdre Dionne and Boyd Aidan from me.

  “Well, let Dionne show you the house while I take your two rascals with me to the park, hm? If I don’t, they will be restless and jumpy all day,” and without waiting for permission, Mom stepped off the porch taking the two tykes with her, but not before I saw her wink at me. “And tonight, we have dinner at the old house, understand?”

  “Yes,” I recall saying, and smiled.

  Yep. Mom’s had always had a keen eye, all right. Tonight, she wanted the family to know about Dionne and me. It was long overdue. And it was permanent.

  I patiently let Dionne give me a tour of her home. As expected, it was meticulously clean! Even with two rambunctious children, the house was immaculate! She showed me the airy sitting room, the cozy den, the well-equipped kitchen and formal dining room. She showed me Boyd’s room, and then DeeDee’s, and then finally . . . our, formerly known as solely her, bedroom.

  All that time, walking in the trail of her Dove scent and listening to her voice as she calmly pointed out things—I don’t remember what because I didn’t even hear half of what she was saying!—I was doing my damnedest to act ‘normal’ while walking around with a throbbing, petrified cock.

  Now, in her—scratch that—our bedroom, she turns to me as she stands by our bed.

  “Need help with that?” she had asked me.

  I had gone stiff as a board, and she softly laughs before she steps to me. Her gentle but unafraid hand finds the hard outline of my rigid cock still painfully trapped in my denims. I catch my breath.

  “Oh yeah,” I moaned. “Please, Sweetheart. I’m dyin’ here.”

  I moan and she laughs
again, but I can see I was turning her on because her golden-brown eyes glowed, and I could see her nipples pucker and harden against the soft material of her dress.

  I had eagerly captured her lips before tenderly kissing her. It was as if it was our first time. It felt that way because Dionne was still hesitant no matter she instigated an incredible love-making that afternoon.

  I had kissed every inch of that wonderful body, and I took my time. Dionne’s pretty face was redder than a boiled lobster because it had been too long, but her golden honey-bunny eyes glowed for me the moment my lips and tongue found her sweet, moist pussy. She writhed against my slow but persistent finger, invading her, but she loved it. She lifted her legs and widened them for me, for more.

  “Oh god, Aidan,” I heard her gasp, gushing my name in between tiny gasps.

  Her body was perfect, even after giving birth to twins—the natural way. Dionne’s body was beautiful, soft, and warm and her gasps, as she whispered my name, were the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard. Like music in my ears.

  I had made mad, passionate, rigorous love to my honey-bunny that afternoon. We enjoyed each other, sometimes aggressively, sometimes tenderly, but over and again. It was as if we had all those years to make up for not being together.

  Unfortunately, all good things must always come to an end, and although I would’ve loved to just drop down on the bed and snore the rest of the afternoon away with my arms around her, Dionne tugged on my arm to have a shower.

  I had no “oomf” left, but when she said I could soap her in, I was up and out of the bed in a wink! We rushed into the master bath and soaped each other in; lingering a bit longer on each other’s aroused parts. Then we had to shower, again.

  We had finally made it back into our bed, in the bedroom we would share for another three years. Her scent was everywhere, and it filled me to overflow. I needed this time to find the peace that had eluded me for much too long.

  But as I hold her naked body in my arms, wanting nothing more than to talk about us and our future, much to my surprise, Dionne had promptly fallen asleep! As she slept, I thought of those lost years, but as I kept thinking about them, I realized we needed this time apart. Now, as she worked as an RN and I was fast becoming an experienced and accredited architect, I understood we needed this time apart only to return together stronger.

  Dionne had my photos, and had raised our twins using those photos so they’d know who their father was. I guess she always trusted in the fact I would find her and come back to her. The house was filled with photographs of me posing for the championship games, drinking with friends, posing with swimming goggles back on my head while smiling wryly at the camera, and holding the last trophy of the last soccer championship game so many years ago. There was one from my graduation at Rice, the graduation she never attended, but what Dad made a lot of photos of. And a video.

  All those years, she had been busy raising our twins with Mom and Dad’s help. All those years, she had made sure my children knew who I was, and all those years, she’d been confident I’d come back to her. One day. And that day came.

  The cricket sound of a phone had rudely awakened me from my pleasant daydreams and thoughts, and I had looked over at the nightstand and saw a pretty phone in soft blue. When I had answered, careful not to wake Dionne, it was Mom.

  “Hi Mom,” I had whispered. “Oh yes, I’m here to stay. I have a son to coach in “the real football”, and a daughter to cuddle, and a woman I’ll need to convince to marry me, if she’ll have me, because I’m dead set that she become the mother of my own soccer team.”

  I heard an indignant gasp and I grinned when I saw Dionne had awakened, and she’d been looking disapprovingly up at me.

  “Eleven children? Are you insane, Aidan?” she had asked as she shook her head. “Silly boy.”

  Just like Dionne back then, you probably think I was kidding, don’t you?

  Think again.

  Remember? What Aidan Boyd van Nuys wants, Aidan Boyd van Nuys gets.

  **~~**

  Epilogue

  It’s been a little over ten years since I’d followed the wine red—she calls it “maroon”—Prelude to my elusive love’s hideaway. I never did make it to Lake Arrowhead, but I had no reason to anymore. I was no longer running away.

  I found my center, my home. I found Dionne.

  I open the door to our cool home, shaded against the brutal California sun. The air-conditioning is on. Two bags of groceries are still unpacked on the kitchen table. She must’ve been too tired to unpack them. That’s okay. I’ll do it later.

  I smile, feeling my heart glow. Most important thing was, she was home. And so was I.

  My Dionne is currently pregnant with our eleventh AND twelfth babies. Yep. Our third set of twins, due in four months. I promised her, no more after these two. Mom thinks, and she’s totally correct, that we’ve overdone it. But I love all our rowdy kids—and they love soccer, letting “old dad” teach them . . . in our backyard.

  And although I might be a little biased, Boyd’s got real talent and potential to go pro.

  It took our second set of twins, our sensitive Arnie and cute Betsy, to finally convince Dionne I will never leave her for another woman, and that I am here to stay. I loved her then, and I love her even more today. And even though she gained a little weight having birthed nearly every year after I moved in that apricot house in Indigo, to me, she couldn’t look more beautiful and sexier in my eyes.

  Especially her nice, plump breasts. My favorite toys!

  So, when Arnie and Betsy were born, I told her it was time she said “I do”. So we did. Didn’t have to change names, either. Dionne had laughed, telling me it didn’t matter. She loved our last name. After all, there’s a California city was named after us. I know. I know. The city’s been there LONG before Mom and Dad emigrated to the U.S., but it’s what we’d like to think.

  Every day I tell her I love her, and only her, and that I’ll never leave her for anyone or anything. Dionne still has lingering issues about not being pretty enough for me, but every night I show her just how wrong she is.

  It’s quiet now. Still as a mouse. I’m on my way to our bedroom in our new home in Sierra Madre, nestled in the cool foothills with an incredible view of L.A. Normally, Dionne just sits with me on our balcony before we welcome our kids home, and before we retire. We love to hold each other as we watch the city lights twinkle in the distance. Lately, however, she’s been doing less sitting and more lying down.

  Our tenth anniversary is due in six months, and tonight, when I take her out to dinner, I’m going to give her the news I’ve made plans to spend our anniversary in Hawaii. Dionne likes it there. And when Dionne’s happy, she never fails to share all that happiness with me.

  She says I’m sexually insatiable, and I tell her only with her.

  These days, our age difference doesn’t matter to her anymore. She’s fully at peace with our marriage although she still needs my assurance that she’s not just a “new and exciting” thing for me. Yes, she confessed to me that was the reason why it took her so long for her to be with me until that afternoon in her old room back at the old house in Arcadia.

  Silly Bunny.

  I quietly enter our cool bedroom where she’d drawn the shades. Since the older kids are with Opa and Oma in Arcadia—Mom understanding how difficult it was for Dionne to carry twins—and our youngest, Jade, is fast asleep in her bedroom, it was a perfect time to be with my Dionne. I’m home early from the office for my hug and cuddle, but I’m disappointed when I find Dionne fast asleep, too. She was lying on the bed with ripe belly exposed for cooling.

  She was wearing a pretty ensemble in warm reds and terracotta. It was a nice set that looked extra nice against her golden-tan skin. She looked really sexy carrying our twins in that sleeveless blouse that was buttoned just under her luscious breasts. It left her baby bump uncovered for extra cooling.

  Her slender golden arms are folded behind her head with he
r golden-brown hair, once again long and in curls just the way I love her, sprawled all around her. Her cheeks are glowing in her sleep, but as if she could feel me there, she blinks awake, and turns her head to see me standing inside the closed door.

  She smiles, making my heart skip a beat. I don’t think that will ever change.

  I grin wolfishly as I loosen my tie and toss it aside. I kick off my shoes and crawl over the bed to her as her honey-brown eyes warm, then glow.

  “Hello, Honey-bunny,” I whisper.

  “Hello, my love.” She smiles with warm eyes.

  I kiss her sweet lips, and I feel a sizzling and twitching in my slacks, making her laugh.

  “Can’t help it.” I shrug with a smile. “I’m still so in love with you.” Yes, still in love with my wife. My lover. My big sis. My soul mate. My Dionne.

  “And still very much in lust, too” she whispers, arching a brow with a coy smile that turns my blood to the hottest magma.

  “Oh, definitely still in lust,” I assure her, feeling my eyes already burning for her.

  No longer having issues with us being brother and sister, she hugs me close as I lay myself carefully beside her. My hand sweeps lightly up from her smooth baby bump, to cup just under a heavy breast before I cup her and tease her pert nipples. Soon, those delectable buds would produce incredibly sweet milk that I’m allowed to suckle every now and then, and I’ve discovered what an incredible turn-on it is for me.

  Just the thought makes me harder than stone. I needed to divert my attention elsewhere for now. She still needed her poor little feet massaged. I rise to sit as she watches me, and I smile sidelong at her as I take her foot, and gently massage it.

  “Remember, once upon a time, I promised you I’d catch up with you in age, and that I’d marry you?”

  She smiles, nodding. “Silly me to have just laughed it off,” she confesses. “I should’ve known what Aidan Boyd van Nuys wants. Aidan Boyd van Nuys gets. Thank god.” She laughs that sexy, throaty laughter that never fails to drive me crazy.

  “Guess what Aidan Boyd van Nuys wants now?” I say with an unmistakable hoarse tone, but much to my dismay, I see her frowning cluelessly. “Baby!” I was offended, but she bursts into laughter before she struggles to get up, and I help her only to be rewarded with kisses on my lips. Then her hand slips with naughty intent down to gently knead the stone-hard outline distorting my slacks, I shudder and groan.