by Zoey Parker
But that didn’t change the niggling desire that maybe there was an alternative to who I was. Maybe I could settle down with a woman and start a family, just like my loyal lieutenants suggested.
Surely, I could learn to keep my anger in check. And I could figure out how to overcome my propensity towards violence. I wasn’t wholly convinced, but there was a chance that maybe I could be a better man, as cheesy as that sounded. And more to the point, it would solve a lot of my current problems. Horton, that piece of shit, was setting me against my men by putting on display the differences between myself and Mr. Jennings. And there were a lot of differences. Never mind that many of them were for the better.
If I could show them the softer side of me, so to speak, then maybe I could rein them in and take away Horton’s power. He was a charming asshole, but if I were more like Jennings, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
I hoped.
I made a frustrated noise in my throat. All of this was ultimately pretty pointless. It didn’t matter if I could change, wanted to change, or if anyone else wanted me to change. If I didn’t have a woman to settle down with, it was all a moot point.
And I didn’t.
Although there were a number of offers from women—some were aware of my status, some were just interested in the muscles I dedicated more than a little time to defining—there weren’t any I had felt a moderate and lingering desire to be around. Oh, sure, most were very attractive. Fake tits, Pilates, dyed hair, you name it. These women were determined to be the sexiest they could be, and maybe on the surface they were, but there had to be more than a surface attraction.
I wanted a woman who would stick. Someone who I could bounce ideas off of and actually have a conversation with, someone who was going to think for herself as opposed to just assuming whatever role I wanted her to. And the women I’d encountered hadn’t fit that mold in the slightest. It was all kinds of “Whatever you want me to be, baby,” and I had no interest in that.
My mind flashed to the last woman I’d taken to bed. I hadn’t even bothered with her name, thinking she was one in a long list of carnal interests that I would tire of quickly. It had been two months since I’d buried myself inside of her, using her pliant nineteen-year-old body to fulfill my desires. And she’d taken it all with a moan and a plea for more.
That she-devil, I thought fondly, a smile curving along my lips.
She’d been the sexiest thing I’d seen in a long time, and all natural, from her large, perky tits to her golden blonde hair. She might have shaved her pussy, but I could tell from her eyebrows and her eyelashes, even coated in mascara, that she was a natural blonde. Which made her all the more appealing. I was into natural.
I’d tasted her lower lips, licking up the wetness that collected there as she moaned and writhed below me. I’d thrust my tongue into her tight little opening in a preview of what was to come and rubbed my thumb over that little soft bundle of hers until I tipped her over the edge.
I didn’t even wait for her to finish before I plunged my dick inside of her.
It had been a hell of a night, and I’d been exhausted enough by our activities that I’d even let her curl up beside me that night. We’d fallen asleep together for a time, and when I woke up, her head was still resting on my shoulder, and I had a hand on her bare hip. It had been a bit startling, considering I wasn’t usually a stick-around-after-the-fuck kind of a guy, but it hadn’t been unpleasant.
I’d still left immediately after, while it was still early enough in the morning to be dark out. I was careful not to wake her and reminded myself that it was only a one-night stand. A hell of a fuck, but nothing more. It wasn’t as though either of us had been looking for anything more that night anyway.
And yet, every so often, I found my mind drifting to that night and that beautiful blonde goddess. She’d given as good as she got and I took everything I needed from her without care. It was a hard night to forget, and the few times I’d been interested in taking out my frustrations sexually, that night had forced itself into my head and taunted me. It told me that I wouldn’t get that lucky again. It had spoiled the potential lays that came up in the time since, but I couldn’t help it.
None of the women I’d come across since had held a candle to that beautiful blonde vixen.
Shaking my head, I tried to shove her out of my mind. It was pointless now, however, because I was already growing hard at the memory of her.
“Shit,” I said to the empty room, adjusting myself in my leather pants.
I knew by now that when this happened, when I grew hard after thinking of that perfect one-night stand, that I would have to take care of it. I would stay hard until my balls ached just thinking of her. It was better to rub one out than to try to ignore it.
Getting up from my chair, I stalked over to the door that led to the shop and twisted the lock to it. Then I made sure the back door was locked, too, though anyone with a key could get in. I didn’t care. I needed to handle this if I had any hope of focusing any further.
Satisfied that I had at least a bit of privacy, I undid the front of my leather pants and reached in to find my cock. It was overly sensitive, hard and ready. I settled myself into my chair again and leaned back, slouching so I had easier access to my member.
I began to pump it, easy at first, as I let my eyes slide shut. I pictured her face the first time I saw it. Young and sweet with smoky eyes and bright cherry red lips that were designed to cut back a little of that sweetness. I remembered that tongue poking out and sliding over her lips, enticing me and making my mind dive straight into the gutter.
I focused on that mouth this time. Her pink tongue, her full red lips. Her white teeth when she smiled widely.
I pictured her here in the room with me. I spread my knees wider, imagining she was settled between them, her head at just the right spot. She breathed across the head of my cock, then looked up at me with those big blue eyes. The kind of eyes that dared you to think they were innocent.
She came closer, and I pictured the way her ruby red lips might part, letting her pink tongue dart out and flick over the head of my dick. I moved my thumb over it to imitate the motion, though I knew it wasn’t the same.
I pictured her wrapping her small, delicate hands around my base, then lifting. They went higher and higher along my shaft, stopping just below the head. That, she reserved for her mouth. Her lips opened wider until her mouth was forming an O. Then she leaned her head down and popped me into her mouth.
Groaning, I began to jerk myself harder.
I imagined her eyes watching me as she pushed more of my length into her mouth, her tongue sliding along the underside of my erection. I imagined her trying to take all of me until I hit the back of her throat. I pictured the way her eyes might water as she tried to fight the gag reflex. She pulled her mouth back up so she could swirl her tongue around the tip, saliva lubricating my cock. With a wicked grin, she did it again.
Her mouth slid over my length—I pumped myself harder. My head hit the back of her throat—I ran my thumb over the top of my cock. She choked, just a little, but didn’t stop. She started to get into a rhythm—I increased the pace of my pumping. She bobbed her head up and down over my crotch, sucking my dick like she loved to do it, like she’d wanted to do it all this time.
I pumped myself harder, picturing the way she would swallow me, until I finally felt that familiar buildup of pleasure. I came with a gasp and imagined that the hot spurts erupting from my member were sliding down her throat, that she pulled back halfway through so I sprayed a little over her firm, half exposed tits.
I was spent and, for a while, just sat there as my member went flaccid.
I wondered why I thought of her, why she was who I pictured when I jerked off these days. Part of it was because she was hot, of course, but there was something else, too. I just didn’t know what it was.
“I should have gotten her number,” I muttered to the empty room. Then I got up and cleaned myself off.
I changed my shirt, balling up the one I’d managed to coat with my release.
Shoving the legal papers into the desk drawer, I threw on my jacket and headed out the door. I’d deal with this crap later. It was time to go home.
***
There wasn’t really a bad neighborhood in Mount Cherry, but I lived in the closest thing to it. I was a short ride away from The End of The World and a good distance from any of the overly ostentatious housing in the richer neighborhoods.
Which was how I liked it.
Once upon a time, my mother had gotten wrapped up in some of that madness, and I hadn’t particularly thought it had served her well. It left me with a needling contempt for most of the richer patrons of the area, though I reminded myself they weren’t all bad.
Like my little blonde vixen.
I had pegged her as a spoiled little rich kid, and when we’d arrived at her house in the richest part of the town, I knew I was right. I hadn’t seen her parents or anything, but I was willing to bet they weren’t far and they wouldn’t have been thrilled to find me fucking their daughter like I had been.
But then I was pretty sure that was half the point.
I picked up my mail as I went into the house. It was going to be mostly junk anyway, but I glanced through them all the same. Junk, junk, junk. I looked through them as I walked into the living room to take a seat on the old sofa that I’d had since I used to live with my mother. I push the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on her too much today.
As I was tossing the mail on the coffee table, there was a knock at the door. I looked over at it, frowning curiously. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and I didn’t live in the kind of place where people just dropped in unexpectedly.
Curiously, I went to the door. When I opened it, I saw the last person I ever thought I’d see again. My little blonde vixen.
“I… What are you doing here?” I asked, completely thrown.
She was dressed modestly compared to the other night, though there was no questioning that her body was just as luscious as it was the first time I’d seen her. She was wearing a cornflower blue sundress that had embroidery around the hem and the neckline, which plunged in just the right way to push her breasts together into a perfect, full heart shape. Her blonde hair was curled lightly and pulled back in a high ponytail that hung down her back. It made me want to grab it and tug it back to expose the column of her neck, but I resisted.
This wasn’t a fantasy; she was really here.
“I need to talk to you,” she told me in a small, uncertain voice. Nothing like the confident, seductive woman from the night I’d brought us both to release. “It’s important.”
I frowned; those words were never good. But I stepped aside and waved her in anyway. “All right. C’mon in. The living room’s in there.” I pointed to the left.
She headed that way, walking softly in what looked like really short heels. Kitten heels, I thought vaguely. They’re kitten heels.
She stood awkwardly in the middle of my living room, unsure what to do with herself. With those wide blue eyes, she glanced over at me. I came into the room to join her, wary of her presence. I wasn’t necessarily upset with her being here, but it was definitely unexpected. And probably not good. I kind of doubted she wanted another fucking.
Though I’d be happy to give her one, I thought, letting my eyes wander her form once more.
“I… I need to tell you something,” she started, sounding as nervous as someone could be. Taking a big breath, she straightened her shoulders and tossed her hair a little, making her ponytail bounce behind her. “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Six
Caroline
I stared at the little pink line, clearly visible in the tiny bubble. My hand began to tremble, though the rest of me seemed to be frozen in place. It wasn’t possible. In fact, it was wholly impossible. There was no way. I’d been careful.
Hadn’t I?
Sure, I’d maybe had a fling or two and left out the rubber, but I was on birth control! That was the whole point of birth control. There was no way in hell that I could be pregnant. Except that little pink line confirmed I most definitely was. Unquestioningly. And despite my furious need to protest it, I knew it was true, too. I had missed two periods now. I’d started to be picky about food, and my mood swings were worse than ever. My father probably thought I was doing drugs; I was all over the place.
But even knowing all of this, it still felt surreal. This wasn’t supposed to happen to girls like me. I took birth control to be safe. I went to a business college so I could take over my overbearing and oppressive father’s business. I went to cotillions and fundraisers and dinner parties. I was part of high society and was everyone’s precious little angel, especially thanks to my father’s campaign for his reelection as mayor of Mount Cherry. I was the spitting image of perfect, and while it had pissed me off since I was a little girl and old enough to understand just what he was doing, I still couldn’t help believing that somehow that made me different from someone else.
I wasn’t one of those girls who got pregnant at nineteen and ruined the rest of her life.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I knew there was a decision to make. I was two months pregnant, that much was clear. And I knew who the father was. I’d only been with one man since returning from college and, more than that, I hadn’t been with anyone my second semester there. I’d partied plenty, but hadn’t let anyone get into my panties, though plenty had tried.
That meant the father was undoubtedly Asher, the Horsemen.
Which was good, I told myself. A guy like Asher wasn’t someone who wanted to settle down or start a family. He wasn’t the kind of man who was going to want to put a ring on my finger or tell me he loved me or try to paint some picture with a white picket fence, two point three kids, and a dog. No, he’d agree with the choice I was going to have to make.
There was no way I could keep the baby.
The thought caused my stomach to squirm a little uncertainly, but I knew it was the truth. If I kept the baby, there would be no going back to school in the fall. On the surface, that seemed like the best thing that could happen to me. It sounded like the gift I’d been begging for—to not go to business school. But I wasn’t so naïve as to think it was all that simple.
Despite protesting against my father and fighting him every step of the way to convince him I didn’t want to take over his business, I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t get away from it. I would have to go to business school. I would have to take over his business. Why? Simple: it was all his money. Every last dime.
I didn’t have the experience in the real world to go out and get a decent job, and if I tried, my father would toss me out on my ass instantly. And even if he didn’t, how long would I be able to work while I was pregnant? And then as a single mother? No, I would never make enough to survive, and I knew my father well enough that he wouldn’t support me if I kept the baby. In fact, he’d probably disown me the second he discovered I was pregnant.
A shiver of fear raced through me. I couldn’t let him know. I had to take care of this myself. But that was the problem: I didn’t have the money to do that.
“What am I going to do?” I asked the mirrored reflection of me.
I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to get rid of the damn baby. I could get it taken care of, and no one would ever have to know. Except for me, I thought, but then forcibly pushed that thought aside. I would not feel guilty for this. Accidents happened. It didn’t have to wreck the rest of my damn life just because of one lousy mistake.
The first thing I did was start making calls. I had to look at places outside of Mount Cherry that would do abortions because, obviously, I couldn’t have it done here. Mount Cherry was growing, but a lot of the small-town mentality remained. If I had any hopes of keeping this a secret, I’d have to go outside the general Mount Cherry area to do it.
I found several places that were a couple of hours outside the city limits. They were nearby s
ome decent hotels, and I had already begun to work out a story for my father to explain what I was doing—a fun trip with my friends before the summer was over, and I went back to school. I grimaced but accepted that I would have to throw him that bone.
By agreeing to not put up a fight about going back to school, I would secure Dad’s support. He wouldn’t question a last, fleeting fun summer with friends. I’d get Rochelle and Mia in on it, though I wouldn’t tell them the real reason for the trip. I’d fake getting sick, then slip out to have it done—according to the lady I spoke with, the operation didn’t take very long. I’d be back before they even realized I was gone. Then I’d take a couple of days to recover, we’d all lament how sick I was the whole trip, and when I came back, no one would be any the wiser.