Into The Garden Ch 25 27

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-in-law 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."