by Piper Rayne
He laughs, and I hear a bottle open on the other end.
“Lubing yourself?”
“Well, you’re not here to coat my dick.”
I close my eyes, imagining the liquid flowing over his tip and his strong hand wrapping around his big cock as he spreads it all around.
“Are you imagining that it’s me who’s made you so wet, Dean?”
“Is that finger out of your mouth?” he asks since I’m speaking freely.
I quickly put it back in and keep up with the exaggerated noises.
“Remember only I can tell you to touch yourself.”
I playfully roll my eyes. He can’t see me.
“Don’t roll those beautiful blue eyes.”
I let a low chuckle loose. “I didn’t.”
“You did and we’re getting off track.”
“Sorry master.”
“My dick just twitched.”
A low heat runs through my body, my blood set to simmer.
“Cup your pussy, diving your finger between your folds, into your wetness and tell me how good it feels.”
I do as he says, leaving one hand on my tit, the slippery silk becomes damp as the ceiling fan does nothing to cool me down anymore.
“I’m dripping.” My voice is low and sultry and matches exactly how my body is feeling.
“Grab the vibrator and turn it to the lowest setting.”
Reluctantly, I take my hand off my tit and grab the pink vibrator and it buzzes in my hand.
“Lightly place it on your clit.”
It tingles, and I clench, loving the arousal coursing through my blood.
“Close your eyes baby and finger yourself. Imagine those are my fingers.”
My back arches and I buck into the vibrator needing more. “I need you,” I pant, and he chuckles.
“No, you don’t. Up the intensity.”
The vibrating along my clit has me on the brink and I squirm around the sheets trying to find a release that’s still too far away.
“Better?” he asks in a low voice.
“No, I need your dick. Come over now.”
“I appreciate the compliment and I wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock instead of my hand, but your groans and moans are going to be what makes me come tonight.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, each enjoying our own pleasure and the sounds the other is making.
“Go ahead and slide that hand under your nightie and grab your tits again, play with your nipples.”
When my hand cups my breast and my finger runs over my nipple, I actually believe it could be his hand.
“Better?” he asks.
I release a strangled groan. I’m about two seconds away from coming. My hips rise off the mattress as if he’s really here on top of me.
“God, yes,” I moan.
“I appreciate the reference. Now drop the vibrator.”
“No!” I screech, just one more level up and I’m there.
“Chelsea, drop it,” he orders.
“Why?” I whine.
He chuckles. “Because I’m about to be inside of you.”
The vibrator drops between my legs and I sit up. “Are you here?”
Sweet Jesus tell me he’s surprised me like that night months ago. I don’t need the donuts and Mickey D’s. Just his dick and his hands and his mouth. Okay, and his arms to hold me close afterward.
“No.”
My body flops back down to the mattress. “You got me all excited.”
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Put two fingers inside that soaked pussy and play with yourself exactly how you do when you’re thinking of me.”
I roll my eyes but does as he says and my body sinks into the mattress once more, content that I’m about to fall off the ledge at any moment.
“Do it like you normally do, Chelsea. You can get yourself off, and I want to hear exactly how it sounds when you do.”
I do as instructed, playing with my clit and then putting my fingers back in. Moans fall from my lips and my breathing rushes and then slows.
“I’m so fucking hard,” Dean grates out and I can tell he’s trying to hold back.
“I’m so fucking wet.”
“I wish I could grab you and plow into you right now.”
“I wish your fingers could dig into my hips and you ram in and out of me.”
Our breathing labors over the line and if it wasn’t for the headphones, I would’ve dropped the phone.
“Next time, I promise baby.”
“Oh, Dean, it’s coming.”
“Don’t fight it.”
My mind blanks and sails over the finish line with a cry out of his name as my body pulses with pleasure. Afterward, my hand falls from between my legs as I lay limp on the mattress, tired and sated.
“Fuck baby, that noise you make.”
And then I hear nothing except some panting and grunting as he finishes himself off. I don’t look at a clock, but it isn’t until we’re both breathing even again that one of us cuts the silence.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I love having sex with you any way I can get it, but I really wish you were next to me right now,” he says.
A smile comes to my lips. “To snuggle?”
“To lick up my cum, but I guess to snuggle, too.”
“If you were in front of me, I’d punch you in the gut.”
He laughs. Not the steamy rougher chuckle from before. This time it’s his honest and true laugh.
“I gotta clean myself up.”
“I don’t want to hang up,” I say.
“Me either, but you need your sleep. Sweet dreams, Chelsea.”
“Good night.”
“Love you,” he whispers.
“Love you.”
The line dies, and I pull the earplugs out of my ears and roll to my side, wishing the other side of my bed wasn’t empty.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day at three o’clock on the dot, I sit in a waiting room filling out papers with pregnant women all around me.
Some are glowing, and some look like they could murder someone. Others are trying to control their young kids and some are rubbing their stomachs smiling at nothing.
Shaking my head, I concentrate on my family history. Why do I have to fill this out every year? I answer the yes and no questions to every disease imaginable, sign the privacy form and put my insurance card on the clipboard.
The receptionist handles everything and gives me back my insurance card, leaving me again in a waiting room.
“Did you just find out?” The woman with a swollen belly glances at my flat stomach.
I stare down at it to make sure it’s actually not showing a bump. I had a big lunch but other than that I’d bet the largest casino’s vault I’m not pregnant.
“Oh, no, I’m not pregnant.”
She smiles and waves me off. “I always forget that women don’t only come to an OB because they’re pregnant. Are you trying? I hope I didn’t offend or upset you.”
I smile although it’s not genuine because if I were trying, I wouldn’t discuss it with a stranger. A stranger who is pregnant. “I’m not trying either.”
“Oh.” Her eyes fall over me, taking in my dress and heels.
Digging my phone out of my purse, I decide to lose myself in anything but conversation with this lady. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m some woman who never wants to have kids or what, but frankly, it’s none of her business. I don’t even talk about this stuff with the people I’m closest to.
Women come and go and I look at the clock on my phone. A half hour since my scheduled appointment.
Finally, my name is called by a nice nurse with red hair pinned into a bun. We do the whole dreaded weighing and blood pressure routine. Once I’m in the exam room, I explain my problem. She smiles nicely and leaves the room.
Twenty minutes later, my panties are hidden under my dress folded up on a chair with my shoes neatly tucked underneath. The paper gown scratches my skin as I doubl
e check I’m not flashing my ass. Not that it should matter, I’m going to spread-eagle any minute.
Would it kill them to turn down the air conditioning in here? I have goose bumps all over my body now.
A knock sounds on the door.
“Come in.”
“Miss Walsh, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” My doctor, a woman in her forties or so walks in wearing scrubs. “I apologize for the wait, but I just got back from delivery.”
“No problem.” My stomach twists in nervous anticipation. I just want to get this over and done with.
She sits down on the stool, her laptop poised in her lap.
“You think your IUD came out?” she asks. “When did we put that in again?” Her fingers scroll on the mouse, never looking up at me.
“A few months ago. My old one had expired. I never had a problem with the old one.”
She sets the laptop down. “It says February we gave you the new one. I bet the strings are just shorter this time and you just can’t get as good of a feel.” She slides forward putting up the stir-ups. “I’ll check and we’ll make sure you’re okay. It’s rare that it comes out or dislodges, but I can’t say it doesn’t ever happen.”
Gently she moves my feet into the stir-ups. “Scoot down to the edge of the table for me. Just like that. Good.”
I lay down on my back, staring at the ceiling tiles that so many women before me have seen as well. They should put motivational messages up there or something. My hands grip the edge of the bed in preparation for the medieval torture device to open me up.
“So, how have you been?” She begins the awkward small talk like I’ll forget she’s looking into my honey pot. Meanwhile, I’m praying she sees two strings coming out of my uterus.
“Okay. Busy with work.”
Not that my busy work is equal to hers. I mean she probably gets woken up to deliver babies on the daily.
“I hear that. Any one special guy in your life these days?”
Why is she asking me that? Because there are no damn strings, I bet. My breathing becomes labored and I mentally will myself to calm down, doing some deep breathing exercises.
The instrument closes and I finally can breathe.
“Um, too early to tell.”
Yeah, yeah, I lied. So what?
She takes off her gloves and puts them on the table and I wait for her to hold her hand out to help me up, but she doesn’t. And she doesn’t try to get me out of the stir-ups.
Shit, shit, Shit! Dean and his giant cock.
Her hand finally outstretches, and she helps me up. “Stay undressed below the belt for right now. I can’t locate the strings to the IUD. There are so many variables that I don’t want to tell you anything until I can get you in for an ultrasound.”
My face must pale because she doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“Don’t assume anything. If you’re worried about pregnancy, I guess we don’t really know how long it’s been missing. Have you been sexually active?”
I swallow.
“Yes, but—”
She stands up, rolling the chair back to the desk area. “Let’s just wait and see where we are before we start talking crazy. Let’s handle the ultrasound first. I’ll be right back.”
I’m silent as she walks out the door. Once alone the despair wraps around me like a straight jacket.
This cannot be happening. Not now. We aren’t ready to face something like that. It will ruin us. Again.
Lucky for me she knocks a minute or so later but leaves the door open.
“I know this isn’t the best, but I was able to secure an ultrasound between two patients to have a look really quick. Would you like another sheet?”
I hop down. Let’s get this over with. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Okay, it shouldn’t take but a few minutes. If it’s okay, I’ll grab your clothes so you can change in there. I’m sure it just got dislodged and maybe came out. Nothing too serious.”
I follow her two doors down into a dark room with the only light inside emanating from the machine.
“Have a seat.”
I weave my body through the stir-ups and lay down, looking at the wand. Memories flood back to me as she puts the latex over the top and squirts lube on the tip.
“Okay, you ready?” she asks, holding the dildo looking device in her hand.
My hands grip the side of the table. “Yep.” I blow out a shaky breath.
The pressure between my folds eases when she’s in and her eyes focus on the screen. Her free hand clicking buttons. She rotates it around and I try to see something, anything, but she has the screen turned away from me.
“Okay, Chelsea, the IUD must have fallen out because I don’t see it. My guess is when we put it in that it wasn’t placed properly. Sometimes they slip out during a bowel movement or maybe during your period and go unnoticed.”
I’m silent for a moment, taking in her words. “Then we can just pop in a new one?”
I hear a noise and then she pulls the wand out of me, slipping off the condom and throwing it away while sanitizing the instrument. Her hand reaches out to help me up, but I don’t want to.
As soon as I’m sitting up, I see her face and I know she’s about to tell me the one thing that will destroy Dean and me.
She tears off something down below the ultrasound machine and holds it in her hand. “We can’t do another IUD yet.” Her expression is pensive.
“Oh, do I have to wait a certain amount of time or something?” I ask, grasping at straws. “Weird since they literally took out my first one after five years and popped in another, but whatever.”
“Under normal circumstances, we could but, Chelsea—”
“Nope. Don’t say it.” I shake my head.
“Chelsea, please, I know your history, but there are things—” She passes me the paper and I don’t even bother to look down at it.
“How far along am I?” I whisper.
She smiles. “You’re six weeks.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “That’s impossible.” I jump down from the chair, pulling my phone out to check. “I had my period.” I find it on my app. “A-ha, I had it three weeks ago.”
The doctor’s lips fall. “You can have your period when you’re pregnant, especially in the beginning. Was it a lighter period?”
“My periods are always light.”
She releases a breath. “I understand being scared.” She steps forward as I’m already fumbling and putting my underwear on. Fucking lube.
“Wait here for one second, okay?” she asks.
I don’t agree or disagree. I just need to get out of this office.
I step into my dress, finding the zipper and pulling it up as I slip into my heels. When I open the door, a nurse stops and stares at me.
“I think the doctor is coming right back.”
I walk by her without a word.
“Miss Walsh?” she asks, but I head through the maze of their office to find an escape. I feel like a rat caught in a maze as I go down one row only to end up at an emergency exit.
“Chelsea.”
I turn around to find my doctor there with a bag in her hands. “I just need to absorb the news.”
“Please, come into my office.” She opens up the door next to her.
Of course, I end up cornered by her office.
I walk in, taking the seat in front of her desk, inhaling a deep breath.
I am strong. I can do this.
She rounds the desk and places the bag down. “First of all, I know you’re worried, and we’re going to be super cautious with you.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.” One tear slips down my cheek.
“I wasn’t your doctor before, so I can’t speak to that, but with your medical history we can try to stay on top of this.” She stands, rounds her desk and takes the seat next to me, her hands grabbing hold of mine. “I can’t promise everything will go smoothly, but I can’t promise any of my pregnant patients that. The
pills I have in the bag are your prenatal vitamins and the extra folate you need to take.”
It feels like a vise is constricting my chest and I can’t speak for a moment past the lump in my throat. After what feels like forever, I voice the secret I’ve kept to myself for the past five years.
“I thought there was no way I could carry a baby?” I practically whisper.
Her hands squeeze mine. “We’re going to stay on top of it. Give you the extra folate your body needs.”
I want to believe her. I really do. Could the thing that destroyed us, solidify us five years later? I’m just not sure.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dean: Okay, I need the live version of my girl tonight. I’ll order Chinese.
I flip the phone over so it’s upside down on my couch and I can ignore it a little longer. The ultrasound picture lay next to it. The little bean. My hand falls to my stomach. The only plus is I don’t have to tell him that we have to use protection. That ship has sailed. A while later my phone pings with another text and I reluctantly reach for it.
Dean: I’m coming over.
Shit, I knew he wouldn’t keep his distance.
Me: Sorry, I’m with Skylar. A week before the wedding is a hectic time for a bride.
Dean: That’s why we made the right decision to do it in Vegas.
I shake my head and smile.
Me: Well, we were drunk. I’ll call you when I’m done with her.
Dean: No need to call. Just come over. No matter the time.
My gut tells me to trust him with the news. No way it will turn out like it did before. He has changed. But still, that small amount of doubt inside is spreading like a bad rash.
“Not yet.” I touch my stomach. “We’ll tell him when it’s safer. Stay strong little one.”
I rise from the couch, grabbing my computer and search up statistics of successful pregnancies with the MTHFR Mutation. For the rest of the night, I read as much information as I can. I read about women who suffered numerous miscarriages before finally successfully carrying a baby. I read about women who never even knew they had a problem until their second pregnancy. I’m obsessed with getting as much information as I can about my situation. At the end of the tearful, hopeful, and devastating stories it looks like I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot of being able to carry this child to term.