by Alexis Angel
He laughs. “I know that, but you’re my wife…this is my baby. I have the right to worry,” he explains.
“Uh-huh,” I answer. “And did you read the material I left on the bedside table for you?” Will grins.
“About how sex in pregnancy is totally fine and healthy and even swallowing cum is just fine? Yeah, I gave it a look.”
I lean in and steal a kiss, pressing my body against his. I whisper against his ear, gently teasing him with my breath and tongue.
“Do more than look, lover. Think we can sneak away for a while?”
He pulls me closer, presses his mouth against mine, and kisses me deeply.
When I had my new job, apartment, and an office full of roses, I thought I was lucky.
The feeling I have now, holding Will, carrying his baby, is a kind of joy that transcends the triumphs of the world.
It’s my soul recognizing true love.
And I found it.
First Comes Love
By Alexis Angel
Copyright 2018 by Naughty Angel Publishing
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Emilia
“That’s it. It’s official. I’m done.”
I slam my final shot of tequila down on the bar and nod my head resolutely.
My best friend, Erin, snorts and rolls her eyes.
“Right. You keep telling yourself that, babe.”
Shooting her a sideways glare, I open my purse and pull out my lip gloss.
“See,” Erin says with a laugh, “you’re nowhere near done.”
I smack my lips together when I finish applying the gloss, then toss my blonde waves over my shoulder and give her an innocent smile.
“I meant here.”
I gesture vaguely around the dimly lit lounge that’s part and parcel of living in the Bradford—a luxury apartment building in the Upper East Side.
I fucking love it here. It costs a pretty penny, but it’s absolutely worth it.
“That’s more like it.”
Erin looks at her watch. “Because the minute Emilia Adams calls it a night at eleven p.m., then I’ll know I’ve stepped into some alternate universe.”
Yeah, so I’m the consummate party girl.
What can I say? I know how to have a good time, and as long as I’m young and free, might as well make the most of it, right?
“So where to?” I ask her, signing the slip of paper in front of me with a flourish and pushing it toward the bartender before standing to go.
I can practically feel the tequila seeping into my veins, a warm, heady rush taking over my body as I think about what kind of trouble we might get into tonight in the clubs of Manhattan.
Erin gives me a too-wide grin, not unlike the grimace emoji she’s so fond of using.
“Um, yeah, about that.”
“No way! You are not bailing on me tonight.”
I’ve got a game plan. It’s early, and we can hit up quite a few of my favorite exclusive clubs if we get started now.
“I’m sorry, Em, but I have to finish up my project. I was totally planning on figuring it out last night, but 33D was going at it even later than usual, and I couldn’t get anything done.”
I laugh at her reference to her upstairs neighbor who probably holds an Olympic gold medal for the number of girls he fucks in a week.
“I know exactly what needs to get done, my friend—you.”
Erin shakes her head. “Not all of us are able to have every New Yorker with a Y chromosome dropping at our feet begging for half a second of our attention.”
I grab Erin’s hand and pull her from the barstool, giving her my most disarming smile.
“Come on, babe. You can work on it tomorrow. I’ve got big plans for us tonight.”
I’m not taking no for an answer here, and she knows it. I can already see her starting to cave. It won’t take much.
She opens her mouth, and I can already hear the yes on her lips—my powers of persuasion don’t just work on dudes, you know—but then, her jaw just hangs there, her eyes going comically wide as she stares over my head.
Knitting my brows together, I spin around to see what has my normally articulate friend more or less speechless.
And immediately feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
A bus.
A fucking bullet train.
Like, I think I might actually stagger back a step.
God, I hope not. But holy fucking hell. This guy that just waltzed into the Bradford’s residents-only lounge is seriously the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
I mean, yeah, I totally get that a statement like that sounds like hyperbole, but fuck…
He’s tall, at least six feet, with broad shoulders that taper to a narrow waist, his body a perfect masculine V-shape that makes me certain there’s another sinfully sexy V right underneath his clothes that points straight down to heaven.
But it’s not his body that has my mouth suddenly as dry as the fucking Mojave. Neither is it his dark hair—almost black—that’s perfectly in place except for this one lock over his eyebrows that has my fingers itching to reach up and brush it away.
No, it’s his eyes—it’s just as dark as his hair. They suck me in like a vortex, an abyss, a black hole, or some other science-y shit. Making the dryness of my mouth a perfect counterpoint to the wetness pooling in my La Perla.
Like, if my mouth is a desert, my pussy is a fucking geyser right now.
I give myself a little shake. Because what the fuck?
A hot guy isn’t exactly new territory for me. Neither is the way those depthless orbs seem to latch onto me and devour me whole, full of filthy intention.
This happens on the regular, and not because I’m some supermodel or something. I just give off that vibe. I’m confident, sure of myself, and that translates into a sexiness that transcends mere looks.
I’ve realized this over the years. Sexiness is an attitude, a mindset.
One I’ve mastered.
So yeah, my knees shouldn’t feel like jelly right now. My stomach shouldn’t be fluttering in a way that feels like a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies was let loose inside of me. And my pussy shouldn’t be throbbing, clenching, fucking aching as this guy walks toward me.
But it is.
Then he smiles.
“Hey.”
One word. That’s all. And my whole fucking world is turned upside down.
“Hey,” I say back.
Yeah, that whole thing about Erin normally being articulate? Her momentary lapse is nothing compared to the total lack of game I have right now. I want to kick myself, slap myself, pinch myself—anything to not feel like I’m at a total loss.
But nope, apparently, all I can do is smile dumbly at this guy.
I feel a sudden sharp pain in my side as Erin nudges me in the ribs. It jolts me out of my momentary stupor, enough for me to tear my eyes away from Adonis himself.
Erin’s looking back and forth between me and this guy, then she smiles waaaay too innocently.
“I’m headed downstairs. Catch you later, Emilia.”
She’s gone before I can even process that she totally just ditched me for the night. But right now, I could practically kiss her for it. Because Hottie McHotterson reaches out his hand and takes mine, drawing it up to the very lips I can’t tear my eyes from.
“Emilia.”
He smiles again, sending a vibration of anticipation rocketing through my body.
“I’m Evan.”
Evan
Fuck.
If I’d known the Bradford had residents like Emilia, I would have taken my
friend Andy’s advice a long time ago and moved here sooner.
I barely even register her friend leaving, though I’m fucking glad to be alone with her now.
I’ve only lived here a week, and I’ve been busy getting unpacked—when I’m not working, which is pretty much always—so it’s the first time I’ve made it up to the lounge.
I thought I’d do a little pre-gaming before heading out on the town, but let’s be real: I’m perfectly fine with staying in tonight if it means I need to do my neighborly duty and get more intimately acquainted with my fellow residents.
Or just the one.
“Leaving so soon, Emilia?” I say, her slight fingers still gripped firmly in mine. “What are you drinking?”
Not ‘Can I buy you a drink, Emilia?’, because fuck that.
Why pretend like she isn’t about to sit that tight little ass right back down and let me buy her whatever I want?
She blinks, her bright blue eyes dilated with desire that I know I fucking put there. Yep, got this one in the bag.
Then Emilia does something that shocks me to my core.
“Nice to meet you, Evan.” She pulls her hand from mine. “But I already have plans.”
She gives me a sassy, little smile—and fuck me, she even has a cute, little dimple—then spins on her Louboutins and starts to strut away.
And yeah, I know the name of her designer shoes. What can I say? I’m a fan of the finer things in life. Plus I’ve had more than one pair of them wrapped around me in my day.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I reach out and wrap my fingers tightly around her wrist. She’s stalking off with such momentum that the sudden opposing force has her rebounding right back toward me—slamming right into my chest.
The air rushes out of her in an audible gasp. And fucking hell, do I want to find out what other kinds of sounds she might make as our bodies collide.
The impact nearly knocks us off balance, and I instinctively wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from falling.
She glances up at me, pressed against my chest, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she shuts that shit down, replacing it with a haughty glare.
“Excuse me, Evan. But I have somewhere to be.” Her voice is like ice.
And I fucking love it.
I don’t let go of her, even when she pulls back, trying to put some distance between us.
“Are you sure about that?” I murmur, unable to resist dipping my head down to whisper in her ear, loving the way a little tremor shakes her whole body as my breath grazes her neck.
A pause.
Anticipation.
I smile, knowing where this is headed.
Emilia trails her fingers up my arms, and it feels like fucking sparks of electricity are shooting through my veins. Her hands come to rest on my chest, and she gives me a saucy little grin.
Yep. Hook, line, and sinker.
Then she pushes. Really fucking hard.
Damn, this woman has some fucking strength hidden underneath that tight, little body.
My eyebrows fly up to my hairline. This is a new one. I can honestly say I don’t remember a woman ever pushing me away—literally—so forcefully.
“Is it something I said?” I tease, quickly regaining my composure.
Emilia cocks her head to the side, jutting a hip out and resting a slender hand on it as she stares at me through narrowed eyes.
“I know your type. Not interested.”
Ouch.
“Baby, you know nothing about me.” My smile hasn’t faltered, but what the fuck. I can’t remember the last time a woman was so vocally uninterested.
“I know enough.”
Her eyes trail slowly up and down my body, and there’s no hiding the fact that she’s got me rock-hard and ready to go. And why should I bother hiding it? I know what I’m packing, and I’m fucking proud of it.
It doesn’t escape me when her gaze lingers a bit too long, her pink little tongue darting out to lick her lips.
I want to fucking groan out load at how crazy she’s making me. And this hard-to-get act? Fuck me, because it’s working.
“Tell me,” I say, taking a step closer to her, “what exactly you know.”
I can tell she wants to back away, that me closing the distance between us is making her waver, but she stands her ground, tilting her chin up to pin me with those crystalline eyes.
“You’re an executive.” She purses her lips. “Wall Street, maybe? You work too much. But you make up for it by playing just as hard.”
I smile. Maybe it’s the Armani suit, but so far, she’s right on the money.
“You also aren’t used to being told no.” It’s her turn to smile now, cool and disdainful.
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say, spreading my arms wide, grinning like a fucking fool now because this girl has me pegged. “I know what I want, and I go after it.”
She regards me for a moment, then takes a step toward me, bringing us close enough that all I’d have to do is shift my weight and our bodies would be flush against each other.
“So what do you want…Evan?”
The way she says my name, low, slow, and fuck-me-now levels of sexy, has my cock twitching, begging to be set free and to claim this woman as my own.
I reach up and take a strand of her silky blonde hair and twirl it around my finger before giving it a little tug.
“I want to push you up against that wall over there. I want to reach up under this tiny excuse for a dress and feel how fucking wet you are for me. Then I want to rip your lacy thong right off you and stuff it in your mouth while I make you come all over my fingers. Then I want to make you come all over my face.”
Her mouth drops open, and she blinks rapidly, like she can’t believe what I just said.
“What’s the matter, baby? Never had a man talk dirty to you before?”
She bites her lip, then gives herself a little shake before smirking up at me. Then with a toss of her hair, she spins on her heel again and walks toward the door, her hips swaying in a way that makes me want to fuck her so hard she won’t be able to walk straight for days.
With one last glance over her shoulder, she calls back to me, “Maybe next time.”
Emilia
What the hell was that? Dude is, like, intense.
Those eyes. I’m still trying to figure out if Evan’s some kind of vampire or some shit, compelling me to do his will.
And you know what? If he is, sign me up. Take a fucking bite out of me. Please.
But not tonight.
I walk toward the elevator, replaying everything that just happened. And god, if I’m still going out, I’m totally going to have to change my panties now. Because Evan was right.
I’m totally fucking wet for him.
As I reach for the elevator button, I realize my hand is shaking.
I, Emilia Adams, am shaken up over a guy. What even?
I pride myself on never letting my guard down. All fun, all the time. The party girl.
The one you can count on for a good time, maybe for a good fuck, but who always has the upper hand.
But right now, I’m totally rattled by what just happened.
The only thing I know for certain is that I need to stay far, far away from this guy Evan.
And I also know, somehow, that it’s going to be impossible.
Not just because we live in the same building, either. But because I’m pretty damn sure I won’t be able to get him out of my head until I’ve satisfied my curiosity.
It will be on my terms, though. Not his.
I’m half-angry, half-turned on when I think about the way he oh-so-casually just assumed that all he had to do was flash that infuriatingly charming grin and say a few dirty things in that sexy, rumbling voice and I’d be putty in his hands.
Nope. Not this girl.
But fuck, I’m practically vibrating from his touch. Just the memory of how it felt to have his breath on my neck, his hard body beneath my hands h
as me whimpering out loud.
Jesus.
“Pull it together, Em,” I mutter to myself as the elevator chimes and the door whooshes open.
He’s not my type. At all. Yet, somehow, I feel like he’s everything I’ve been missing and didn’t even know.
But that’s ridiculous. Fanciful, even. I roll my eyes as I angrily punch the button for Erin’s floor.
Nope. Not going to do this. I’m going to go straight to Erin’s apartment and drag her ass out for a night on the town.
Just as the elevator door starts to slide closed, a tanned, muscled arm pushes back against it, and it opens up again.
I plaster a pleasant smile on my face, not wanting whomever this is to see me in this conflicted stated.
And…it’s him.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
He grins, charming, dashing, debonair, all the bullshit words one would attribute to a guy like this.
“If you insist.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to try to pin me up against the wall of the elevator and do all the deliciously dirty things he promised in the lounge. He reaches his hand toward me. Then just stares at me expectantly, his fingers inches from my waist.
I give him the stink-eye. “What the fuck, dude?”
Evan clears his throat. “Um, just want to push the button for my floor.” He nods his head toward the row of buttons that I’m actually leaning against.
I shift to my right and my face burns as I realize that in my attempt to be casual, I happened to light up almost all of the buttons on the panel.
An amused smirk crosses his chiseled features.
“Looks like it’s going to be a long ride.”
I roll my eyes. Is he always like this with the innuendos?
I wonder briefly what floor he’s on, but don’t bother asking. If I’m pretending I’m not interested…err, I mean, if I’m not interested, no sense in giving off the impression I care.
“What do you do, Emilia?” he asks as the doors slide open at the next floor and neither of us get out.