by Lauren Rowe
“Well, of course,” I say. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
“But not the one who played Ron Weasley,” Sarah interjects. “The redheaded guy who played his older brother.”
Kat swats my arm. “The guy in Ex Machina.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah?”
“He’s the main guy in this one and he’s so cute—”
“So cute,” Sarah agrees.
“And he figures out he can time-travel by going into a closet and then he meets The Notebook girl and—what’s her name, Sarah?”
“Rachel McAdams. She’s so cute.”
“So cute. So, anyway, I won’t spoil it for you, in case you ever wanna watch it but it’s so good.” Kat lets out a long, swooning sigh.
Sarah mimics Kat’s swooning sigh. “So good,” she agrees.
Jonas and I exchange a look. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck either of these two women have said for the past three minutes—I pretty much tuned out after Kat said the words The Notebook—but, damn, both of these girls are fucking adorable.
Clearly, Jonas agrees with my assessment because he’s begun nuzzling Sarah’s neck and whispering to her.
Sarah makes a sound of sheer happiness. “Oh, how I love you, hubster,” she breathes.
“Oh, how I love you, Mrs. Faraday,” Jonas replies.
Sarah runs her hand through Jonas’ hair. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw Mariela today. You were beautiful, love.”
“Thank you for arranging that for me. I’ll never forget it.”
“Yeah, thank you, Sarah Cruz,” I say. “I’ll never forget today as long as I live. It was amazing.”
“It was my pleasure. It warmed my heart to see the Faraday boys looking so happy.”
“Mariela had quite a house, didn’t she?” Kat says. “I’d say Mariela’s livin’ large in the ol’ Vee-Zee, baby.”
“Half a million bucks goes a really long way here,” Jonas says, referring to the finder’s fee money we secured for Mariela (along with equal shares for Sarah’s mom, Jonas’ friend Georgia, and Miss Westbrook).
Sarah whispers something into Jonas’ ear and he kisses her tenderly.
I look away from them and I’m met with Kat’s intense gaze. Oh. I know that look—it means my unicorn’s feeling frisky.
Kat runs her fingertip over my bottom lip. “Are you all done with your work, honey pot pie?” she whispers.
I chuckle. “Someone’s been hanging out with Sarah Weirdo Cruz today.”
Kat giggles. “Yeah, that was extremely Sarah-Cruz-ish, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. And, yes, I’m all done with my work.” I stick out my tongue and lick the tip of Kat’s finger. “I’m all yours for the rest of the night, hot momma.”
Kat presses her forehead against mine. “Mike Wazowski,” she whispers.
I grin.
Kat presses her lips against my ear and whispers softly, “I’m so frickin’ horny, I’m gonna blow.”
“God, I love pregnancy hormones,” I whisper back.
Kat smiles.
Out of nowhere, Jonas makes a kind of growling noise and abruptly stands with Sarah in his arms, lifting her like a rag doll. “Good night, guys,” he says. “It seems Mrs. Faraday and I have a date with a Venezuelan mattress. Come on, wife.” Without waiting for our reply, Jonas barrels away like the gorilla he is, happily carrying his love-monkey-bride in his protective arms.
“Good night, guys!” Sarah calls to us, just before their bedroom door closes with an emphatic thud.
“Those two are so freaking cute,” Kat says.
My stomach clenches with envy. Fuck me. I want to say, “Come on, wife!” to Kat, exactly the way Jonas just said that to Sarah. And, fuck me, I want to say “Mrs. Faraday and I have a date with a Venezuelan mattress!” too, even if, yes, that’s a supremely cheesy thing to say. Shit. At least fifty times this past week in Brazil, I almost blurted, “Will you marry me, Kat?” But I refrained every time—of course, I did—because the sane part of my brain knows I’ve already asked Kat to marry me without a ring or ironclad plan in place and that she replied, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.” So, obviously, another spontaneous (flop-dick) proposal ain’t gonna cut it a second time around.
Kat skims her lips against mine, yanking me out of my thoughts, and I slip my tongue eagerly into her mouth. In reply, she presses herself into my hard-on.
“How are you feeling, beautiful?” I ask, kissing her softly.
“Good,” she says. “I didn’t barf once today.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “Sexy. You know I can’t resist a woman who doesn’t barf.”
“One might even say it’s your Achilles’ heel, although I seem to recall you’re also quite willing to fuck a woman who barfs on your shoes.”
“Not ‘a woman’ who barfs on my shoes,” I say. “Only you.”
“Sweet-talker.”
“Okay. Enough chitty-chat,” I declare suddenly. I stand and swoop Kat into my arms, and Kat practically growls with excitement. “It’s time to put those pregnancy hormones of yours to maximum use, Party Girl.”
One Hundred Twelve
Kat
“I’ve got a present for you,” I coo as Josh lays me down on the bed.
“Oh yeah?” Josh pulls off his shirt, revealing his gloriously muscled and tattooed torso.
“Oh my God,” I say, ogling him.
Josh pulls down his pants and briefs, letting his straining donkey-dick spring free.
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” I blurt. “I feel like my clit’s a lawnmower and you just yanked its starter-cord.”
Josh smiles wickedly. “Oh, the things I’m gonna do to you, hot momma.” He advances on me like a panther.
“Wait. Close your eyes.”
Josh exhales like I’ve asked him to stop and change the oil in my car. “You’re killing me, Smalls,” he says.
“Close ’em, Playboy. I’ve got a surprise for you. It’ll take five seconds and then you can do whatever you please to me.”
Josh settles onto his knees next to me, his naked body taut, his erection massive. “You’ve got twenty seconds and then I can’t be held responsible for what this dick might do to you.”
I pull my sundress off, revealing my leopard-print-electric-blue bra and undies underneath, and carefully cover my hipbone with my palm.
“Okay,” I say. “Open.”
Josh opens his eyes. “Great surprise. You’re gorgeous. Now lie back.” He pushes me back gently.
“No, you fool,” I say. “I haven’t shown you the surprise yet.”
Josh exhales again.
“You ready?” I ask.
Josh motions to his straining dick in reply.
I bite my lip and remove my hand, revealing the temporary “tattoo” Sarah drew on my hip with a Sharpie pen while we watched About Time in the other room. “For you, Playboy,” I say, unveiling the famous Playboy-rabbit-head-logo drawn onto my hip. “I can’t get a tattoo while pregnant—apparently, there’s a risk of infection or whatever—but I finally figured out what I’m gonna do for my second tattoo after the baby’s born.”
Josh’s hard-on visibly twitches. “Aw, you’re gonna get a boyfriend tattoo?”
I nod.
Josh’s sapphire eyes smolder. “Sounds pretty serious, babe.”
“Oh, it is—as serious as it can be.”
Josh advances on me slowly, his taut muscles flexing, his hard-on huge, and slowly pushes me onto my back. He deftly removes my bra and, the minute my breasts bounce free, he buries his face into my cleavage and motorboats my boobs, making me giggle.
“I’ll be damned, your pretty titties might actually be getting a little bit bigger, babe,” he says.
I look down at myself. “Really?”
“Maybe. Lemme double check.” He takes my left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around.
I let out a soft moan.
“Yeah, definit
ely,” he says. He runs his palm over my belly. “And you’re a tiny bit rounder here, too, I think.”
My heart lurches into my mouth with excitement. “You really think so?” I sit up, completely distracted from our imminent fuckery. “Do you think I’m finally pooching?” I look down and poke myself with my fingertip.
“Lie back down, babe,” Josh says, pushing me back. “I’ll examine you and let you know for sure.”
I stare down at myself. “I think you might be right. Look.” I poke my belly again and there’s definitely a little pooch under my fingertip. “I put on my favorite skirt this morning and it didn’t fit quite right but I thought I was imagining it.”
Josh pushes gently on my shoulders again. “Lie back, beautiful.”
“By the end of this trip, nothing I packed is gonna fit right,” I say, my skin buzzing. “I’m probably gonna need maternity clothes any day now, babe, and I didn’t pack any.”
“Lie back, hot momma,” Josh persists. “We’ll go shopping in Buenos Aires if we need to—surely, there are pregnant women there, too. Relax.” He peels off my undies while licking my neck and firmly pushes me back onto the bed.
“Do you really think I’m showing?” I breathe.
“Oh yeah.” He licks my ear and slides his fingers between my legs. “Definitely. What fruit is the baby now?”
“A lemon.”
“A lemon?” He shudders like I just said a dirty word. “God-damn, I’ve got a pregnant-woman fetish these days.” His fingers are massaging me. His lips are on mine. His tongue is in my mouth. “My sexy little baby-momma,” he whispers.
He begins trailing kisses down my body, heading slowly toward my bull’s-eye—and when his warm, wet tongue finally reaches my clit, I arch my back and exhale, settling in for what’s surely going to be a delicious ride. But just as Josh’s mouth begins devouring me in earnest, the unmistakable sound of Sarah having an orgasm in the other bedroom wafts into our room. The sound is muffled, and oddly restrained, like Sarah’s trying her damnedest to be quiet but utterly failing.
Josh lifts his head and looks at me, a smirk on his gorgeous face, and we both giggle. “Sounds like they’re having fun.”
I snort.
Josh sits up, his eyes dark with desire. “You wanna play a game, Party Girl?”
I bite my lip. “What kind of game?”
Josh lies alongside me, grabs a pillow, and places it under his head. He licks his lips. “Have a seat, babe.” He waggles his tongue at me, making my clit flutter.
“That’s the game?” I ask. “I sit on your face?”
“No, the game is you sit on my face and try not to scream the way Sarah just did. If you scream, I win—if you don’t, you win.”
I smirk. “Am I trying not to come—or trying not to scream when I do?”
“Oh, you’re gonna come—there’s no doubt about that.” He licks his lips with an exaggerated motion. “In fact, I’m gonna eat your pussy ’til I make it rain.” He snickers. “And good fucking luck not screaming through that.”
“Babe, the walls are so thin. I have no desire for Jonas and Sarah to hear me climaxing.”
Josh shrugs. “So does that mean you accept my challenge?”
“Of course. And I assure you, I’m gonna win. I’m a sniper, baby—total control.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“What do I get when I win?”
“If you can squirt without waking half of Caracas, then I’ll be your sex slave for the rest of the night. Command me as you please, hot momma.” He begins stroking his erection, a pervy gleam in his eye. “But if I make you scream louder than Sarah just did, then you’re all mine, every fucking inch of you, for the rest of the trip.”
I giggle. “Sounds like I’m gonna come out a winner in this game either way.”
Josh adjusts the angle of the pillow under his head and makes a loud smacking sound like he’s calling a horse. “Come on, m’lady—hop aboard your valiant steed. I’m thirsty for some lemonade.”
“Oh my God, Josh. That’s disgusting.”
He laughs and continues stroking his hard-on.
“You really are a sick fuck, you know that?” I say, crawling over his face.
“Yes, I am.”
After positioning myself carefully over Josh’s beautiful mouth, I lower myself onto his lips and immediately sigh with pleasure at the sensation of his warm tongue penetrating me. “Oh, God,” I say. “That’s so good, babe.”
Josh growls underneath me and slides his finger into my ass and I jerk my pelvis against him like I’m slowly fucking his face. Within minutes, my skin pricks with goose bumps and my toes curl—and it’s quite clear to me I’m gonna lose this goddamned bet. Oh, God, yes, I’m gonna lose this motherfucking bet by a landslide—which means, of course, I’m gonna win.
“I love you,” I breathe, my pleasure ramping up. “Oh my God, yes, babe—oh, my fucking-motherfucker-fuck. Yes.” I bite the tip of my finger, trying to relieve the pressure rising inside me, but it’s no use. This is just too freaking good. Oh my God, yes.
Josh growls underneath me again and slips his finger right up my ass and the wall of my vagina contracts sharply. Josh’s lips and tongue continue voraciously eating me and my body tightens again, and then again, ratcheting itself up for what promises to be an outrageous release.
“I love you so much,” I choke out, fondling my breasts. “Oh, God, I love you.” But those are the last coherent words I utter before letting out a scream that’s not only sure to be heard by Jonas and Sarah in the next room, it’s no doubt going to awaken the entire continent of South America, too.
One Hundred Thirteen
Josh
I’ve been lying here in the dark, spooning Kat’s sleeping body, for over an hour—but sleep won’t come, no matter how many Venezuelan sheep I try to count.
Fuck.
I carefully extricate myself from Kat’s long limbs, slip quietly out of the bed, and pad into the moonlit suite. After grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I head out to a large balcony overlooking pre-dawn Caracas, expecting to grab a few minutes of insomnia-laden solitude. But I’m surprised to find I’m not alone out on the balcony.
“Jonas?”
My brother turns around in his chair. “Hey,” he says softly.
“What are you doing out here, bro?”
“Same as you, I’m sure,” he says. “I can’t sleep.”
“You want something from the fridge?” I ask, holding up my water bottle.
Jonas holds up a glass in his hand.
I sit in a wicker chair next to my brother and look out at the skyline. “Why can’t you sleep?” I ask.
Jonas shrugs. “I’ve had chronic insomnia my whole life. This time, luckily, I’ve got happy insomnia—I can’t stop thinking about how happy I am.” He smiles. “You?”
I run my hand through my hair and exhale. “I’ve been wanting to tell you about this, actually. I’ve decided to pop the question to Kat—and I can’t figure out how the fuck to do it.”
“Really? Congrats. That’s great. When are you gonna do it?”
“As soon as I can get a ring and figure out how the fuck to do it right this time. There’s no margin for error—failure isn’t an option.”
Jonas looks genuinely elated. “Well, do you have any ideas? Bounce ’em off me—I’ll help you figure it out.”
“Dude, I have no idea how to do it—that’s why I’ve got insomnia. I can’t just, you know, take her to dinner and pull out a ring or take her to a basketball game and ask her on the fucking Jumbotron. Whatever I do, it’s gotta be big.” My stomach clenches. “Honestly, I’m kind of freaking out about it, bro. I asked Kat once and totally fucked it up. I gotta do it right this time or I dunno if she’ll give me a third bite at the apple.” I rub my forehead. “Kat didn’t just turn me down the first time—she got pissed. And even worse than that, she got her feelings hurt. I’m the first man in the history of the world to ask a woman to marry him an
d make her feel shitty about it.”
Jonas grimaces. “How’d you manage that?”
I shrug. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Come on. You must have an idea what you did wrong. How’d you ask her? You never told me any details. All I know is your proposal didn’t include the words ‘I love you.’”
I shake my head, not wanting to relive it.
“Tell me, Josh. We gotta figure this out.”
I begrudgingly tell Jonas every detail of how that night at the hospital went down. “And then the whole next week, I felt so rejected and bummed and confused, I actually told myself I was done with her,” I say, rolling my eyes at the absurd thought. “And the most aggravating part was she kept calling me ‘Mr. Darcy,’ and I have no idea why.”
“You mean from Pride and Prejudice?” Jonas asks.
“Why the fuck do you know that? I had to Google that shit to figure it out.”
Jonas shrugs.
“You amaze and appall me,” I say. “But we’re off track here. The point is, I fucked it up and Kat said no and I’ve never felt so rejected in all my life. For both our sakes, I couldn’t handle a repeat performance. I have to do it right this time.”
“Yeah, well, proposing in a hospital waiting room when the girl’s sitting vigil for her brother definitely doesn’t sound like a story Kat would wanna ‘tell her grandchildren one day’—unless, of course, you want her to tell her future grandchildren ‘The Story of How Grandpa was a Dumbshit.’”
“The scary thing is I truly didn’t realize I was fucking up at the time—I thought I deserved a fucking medal for being so honorable.”
“Well, that’s the problem right there. Women don’t want honorable—they want love.”
“Yeah, I know that now. Duh. Now I realize Kat just wanted to hear me say ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re the woman of my dreams’ and all that—okay, I get it—but at the time I was too freaked out to say any of that. But still, I’m not sure why she punched me so fucking hard in the balls. She could have just said ‘no thanks’—that would have been sufficient, thank you very much. But not Kat. Of course, not. She was livid, man—and, honestly, I still don’t fully understand why. Which means I could totally piss her off again and fuck it up completely and not even realize I’m doing it.”