His Under Contract

by Fiona Murphy

  Pulling me into his arms, he allows me to cuddle the way I like to the most. He sighs, “Why, exactly, do you like this crazy position so much?”

  Snuggling deeper into his neck, I inhale the scent of him. “Because almost every part of you is touching me, even if you do let off enough heat to power the condo for weeks.”

  “Hmm... that’s good to know. I thought you were just torturing me.”

  “Well, yeah, that first night I definitely wanted to torture you.”

  He laughs before slapping my ass, hard. “Smartass. You liked it in the tub, but I scared you, didn’t I?”

  Blushing, I nod, “It felt really good, but like you said, you are much larger than two fingers. Yes, it scares me a little but I do want to try it. Once you’re up to it.” I tease as I rub against his thick cock, which stirs at my touch.

  “Clean my cock, Holly, like a good girl.” I’m wet at his order and move to do as he bids. I’ve cleaned his cock often, enjoying every lick of it. By the time I’m done, he’s hard again. “Go get the oil.”

  I’m excited as I nearly run to grab the oil. He’s on his knees, I climb onto the bed, and he stops me with his hands on my hips. “Like I said, sweetheart, if you say no it’s okay.” Two fingers slide into me, unrelenting. I do my best not to stiffen up, only to remember how good it felt before. This time, his other hand plays with one breast then the other, slowly he’s moving in and out me, massaging as he had before. When I begin begging for more, he removes his fingers.

  The blunt head of his oiled cock goes in easily for the first few inches. Now both hands are on my breasts, teasing, making me gasp, and lose focus on the discomfort of him pushing deeper. There’s no pain, not yet, he begins moving out then back in again, a little deeper with every stroke, until he’s completely inside me—then stops. Every inch of him, every vein, every ridge is burned into me. This is a feeling I will always remember. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, please, more.” No pain, though it doesn’t feel as good as when he’s in my pussy. Only this isn’t everything, I can feel there’s more, even if it’s pain, I want it all. Instinctively, my body clenches around him as he tries to move out of me.

  “Fuck, Holly, don’t do that. It makes it harder to stay in control. I want to make this good. Please, sweetheart, don’t do that.”

  “Sorry.” I moan as I move on him taking him back into me.

  He laughs, then begins fucking me faster, deeper. Then he stops moving completely. I’m in agony, begging him to fuck me. The minutes he stops are agonizing, until he begins fucking me again for a several strokes before stopping again. I’m in tears, begging for him, when he gives in, taking me deeper, and harder until my climax slams into me, sending me into the mattress as I get sucked into darkness. The burning, wet heat of Ethan coming inside me sends electricity fierce and bright up my spine lighting up the darkness in brilliant perfect white light that fades as I drift to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The next month slides by without me even noticing it. Most Sundays that we weren’t with Ray, were spent roaming the city, enjoying the sites she hadn’t been able to enjoy before. We’ve made it to a few White Sox games and I love watching Holly’s cheeks glow with excitement.

  As usual, my mind is on Holly when my calendar alerts me. Damn, Holly should be starting her period again any day now. I hope she won’t be in pain the way she was before. I’m also not excited about going without, I know she won’t be either. She really is hungry, greedy, and very comfortable in her sexuality. I love how she isn’t the least bit shy of asking for what she wants, when she wants it. The one that surprised me was her asking me to take her from behind, against the windows. A bit of an exhibitionist streak, I liked it.

  I haven’t heard much from Amelia, we no longer have lunch dates. I’m not really bothered by it, when Amelia wants something she’ll call.

  Since my alert had gone off while I was working out, I’m watchful when I go upstairs. Holly sets my plate down first, then goes back for her own. “How are you feeling? Any pain, have you started yet?”

  She laughs. “Only you would know more about my period than I do. No pain, but you’re right I’m due to start within the next few days. I promise, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good, none of this toughing it out bullshit.”

  “I won’t, I promise.” She kisses my cheek.

  Assured, I turn my attention back to breakfast.

  We are interrupted by her period arriving again, and it’s as bad as it was last time, though she swears her flow is almost nonexistent. She takes more days off and we go back to cuddling again. Holding her in my arms, her warm soft body against mine fills me with a kind of peace I’ve never known. For me, cuddling used to last about two minutes, until I could get away. Now, Holly in my arms is the only way I can fall asleep, the only way I want to fall asleep.

  I’m pissed the papers call her different from my usual; snarky bastards allude to her weight but stop just short of calling her fat. I don’t care what people are thinking about me. I’m concerned about Holly, worried they’ll hurt her feelings. If it does hurt, she never mentions it, only tells me that I’m going overboard, then she admits she would rather be home with just me. So, I decide to dial it back on dinners out but we keep the Sox games on our schedules.

  I’m having a shit day, say fuck it, and leave work early. When I get home, I find Holly with her tablet, reading on the couch.

  Her eyes light up when she sees me. “You’re home early!”

  “Have you picked out a school yet?” I had meant to ask her last night, but she managed to make me forget all about it.

  “I’ve got it narrowed down between two.” She huffs.

  “Classes start in less than a month. You pick tonight, sweetheart, or I will.” I take off my jacket and loosen my tie as I keep walking into the bedroom. She follows me and with bright eyes, watches me undress. I shake my head. We were going to get the school thing over with before I let her make me forget again.

  “You’re so damned bossy.” She pouts as she winds her arms around me. “I can decide and I will. Did your sister text you about having lunch sometime this week? She went on and on about visiting your parents, making it sound like she was getting sucked into a black hole against her will. It’s just a long weekend. What’s the big deal?” Sneaky little brat is walking me back towards the bed.

  Just because we were on the bed didn’t mean we have to make love. I give in, tossing her on the bed then taking her into my arms as she grumbles, laying her head on my chest. “She sent me an email about lunch before she leaves. It’s actually something we usually do before she goes to visit them. They have a way of making her completely crazy and question her worth. Apparently, she’s never as good as I am, and not being married with children means she’ll die alone and be incomplete forever.”

  “I thought my parents were bad. She’s twenty-eight years old with a law degree from Harvard. How can they make her question her worth? Do you ever visit them or talk to them?”

  Her hesitancy is clear, the few times she’s asked about them before, I changed the subject. Not answering her questions had nothing to do with not wanting to talk to her about them. It had to do with not wanting to talk about them—period. Now it seems right, also because I’m aware it’s not fair to not talk about my family when I want to know about hers. I was curious about what made her the beautiful intelligent woman she is yet doubt herself far too often. “No, I haven’t spoken to them since I graduated from law school. They came to graduation even though I didn’t invite them. They made some stupid condescending remarks that showed how much they didn’t know me. I realized, after going years without them in my life, I hadn’t missed them. I knew I didn’t want them in my life ever again, they were toxic.

  “My parents weren’t great at the whole parenting thing. Early memories of them included me with a nanny hovering in the background ready to whisk me away after a civilized time of them studying me. My
mother is East coast old-money who raised me the way she was raised, with nannies and no affection. When I was nine, I was sent to boarding school. For the first few years, I only visited at Christmas and over the summer. Both parents were more concerned with my father’s career. I believe he had aspirations of making colonel, but after an affair with an underage girl came to light, that was lost to him. They tried to blame it on me, but it’s bullshit. If anything, getting kicked out of military school for selling pot and all the shit that went down later gave them an excuse they never would have had before.”

  Her eyes are wide as she hugs me close. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. It happened a long time ago.”

  “What in the world were you doing selling drugs?”

  Another shrug. “I was an entitled asshole. I had a very small allowance, compared to most of the kids at school, and resented the fuck out of my parents for it. If they weren’t going to buy me the things I wanted, or give me the money I wanted, then I’d get it myself. Hell, I didn’t even like pot. I hated the way it made me lose focus, and the way it smelled. I used it a few times but had no plans to waste money or time on it again. When the guy I bought it from called me to ask if I wanted more, I told him I didn’t. He liked that and asked me if I wanted to sell it, the school was a huge moneymaker. After I heard how much money I could make, I was in. He wanted to move up the ladder and make more money selling to other dealers. For him, it was better not having to worry I was going to smoke it all, and not pay him for it. I sold it for almost six months before an asshole ratted me out when he got caught with it. I got kicked out and sent to my parents.”

  “That’s when you met Brittany.”

  I’m not surprised she knows about Brittany. Amelia probably told her, as a caution to keep her away from me. “Yes, that’s when I met Brittany. It’s okay, you can ask about her.”

  Her eyes go down, “Did you love her?”

  “I was fifteen years old. I loved her the way I loved pizza and my leather, in the moment. I never thought of us as forever. She was pretty and she told me all the things a teenager wants to hear. I was hot, cool, and she loved me. I was aware she was trying to catch me and keep me, but because it made me feel good that she wanted me that much I didn’t care. Despite what my parents thought, I wasn’t stupid. I knew she got pregnant on purpose. It pissed me off, but it was my fault too. I never once thought of using condoms. I asked her to have an abortion. I tried to be logical about it. We were too young, this would change our lives and I wasn’t ready. She flipped out, completely lost it then threatened to kill herself, that way I wouldn’t have to worry about her or the pregnancy.

  “I backed up, deciding to give us both some room. I’m not sure if she thought I was leaving her or what, but she found some of her mom’s painkillers and chased the bottle down with half a bottle of scotch. It worked. I swallowed my anger and went back to her, deciding to man-up and deal. Her parents found out when the doctors told them in the hospital and shit blew up.” I’m lost for a moment in the memories of the cold words my parents spoke to Brittany in the hospital.

  “It was bad?”

  “Very bad. There were offers of money for an abortion that made Brittany cry harder and harder with each new dollar amount my parents offered. The way they called her trash, and how any child she had would be trash, and nothing would ever change. At first, I hoped Brittany would take the money and it could all go away. Then, as their words became more venomous, I felt sick at the lengths they were willing to go. How they were sure I would turn my back on Brittany and my kid. It didn’t matter how or why, but if Brittany was going to continue with the pregnancy then that would be my kid, my blood. I couldn’t walk away from either of them.

  “When they left the hospital, they told me it was Brittany or them. I told them to fuck off. For a few weeks, we stayed with Brittany’s parents, but it was a constant stress-filled environment. There I was turning sixteen, without a job, a home of my own, and a baby on the way. Every day, her parents demanded to know when I would fix it. Brittany was freaking out because she finally figured out there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after in the big house with my parents. She was constantly asking me to talk to my parents. She went to my sister, talking about the baby. Didn’t my sister want to be an aunt? I was pissed, my sister was a fucking kid, but Brittany was desperate.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore and I demanded we move out. Even though I had no idea what I was going to do, I knew I couldn’t do it under the stress I was living in. At first, a friend let us stay in his family’s pool house. I found a job working construction, it paid next to nothing. Still, it gave me hope I might be able to turn it all around. Then when the friend’s parents found out Brittany was pregnant, they sided with my parents and kicked us out. Finally, I fucked everything up and got what I wanted in the end. No more Brittany or the baby.”

  “Ethan, no. You don’t believe that.”

  With a bitter laugh I scoff at her words. “Of course I do. Fuck, Holly, how could I not? It was my fault. When we got kicked out, Brittany wanted to move in with her parents again but I refused. I was making money, we had saved almost enough to get our own apartment, we didn’t need anyone else. My pride wouldn’t allow us to depend on anyone. Brittany never saw a doctor once after her suicide attempt. Maybe if she had seen a doctor, whatever led to the miscarriage could have been caught. Hell, if we’d lived with her parents we wouldn’t have had to wait for over an hour for an ambulance. I didn’t want a baby or Brittany, I got what I wanted.”

  “Oh, Ethan, you were a kid—you couldn’t have known the choices you were making would lead to what happened. Why didn’t you want to live with her parents?”

  “Because I didn’t want my kid to know I couldn’t take care of him. I wanted my kid to know I was the one who could give him everything.”

  “You cared about your baby. You didn’t want to get rid of him.”

  “Holly, the minute I committed to being a father was the minute my ego should have gone out the window. My decisions should have been about what was best for the baby, not me.”

  “Maybe as an adult you know that. For a teenager who hadn’t had a real responsibility beyond passing a test, to go to being responsible for another human being, there are going to be things you get wrong. When it comes to pregnancy and getting it right, there is no one answer. My best friend in high school, her mother had six kids and they were dirt poor. They couldn’t so much as afford birth control, so they couldn’t afford doctors. Her mother never saw a doctor until she was in the hospital delivering her kids. The woman’s sister was a rich man’s wife and saw a doctor to get pregnant, and the doctor every month trying to stay pregnant, but she could never carry a baby to term. She almost died the same way Brittany did with her fifth pregnancy. While she got to the hospital in time, in the end the doctor had to do a complete hysterectomy.

  “There are no guarantees in life. If Brittany had managed to make it to the end of her pregnancy there is every chance she or the baby would have died. Life happens and we have no control, and sometimes that includes dying.” Her arms go around my neck as she kisses my cheek.

  Fuck, I hate the way she’s making sense. Still, I can’t just let go of something I’ve believed for so long. “But I didn’t want them. I wanted it all to go away.”

  “So, when you told Brittany you refused to move in with her parents, you wanted her to die? When you were thinking about how you wanted your kid to know you could give him everything he needed, deep down if Brittany still could and would get an abortion you would have wanted that? Were you wanting her to miscarry?”

  “Fuck no!”

  “Then, Ethan, you didn’t get what you wanted. Okay, yes, when Brittany first got pregnant, and it was just an idea of a baby, you were scared and didn’t want the responsibility. You wouldn’t have been a normal, logical person if you hadn’t. No person should think having a kid at fifteen is a good idea. But you changed your min
d. If you had known what was going to happen, would you do the same thing?”

  “No.”

  “So, you didn’t get what you wanted.” She hugs me tight, her soft words cutting me free from the guilt that had hung around me for years, weighing me down until sometimes I felt like I would suffocate beneath it.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Holding Ethan close, I fight against the tears that threaten to spill over. It’s hard not to give in to the tears, for the child he’d lost, for the young girl who had taken a crazy gamble and lost far more than she ever thought was possible. For the kid Ethan used to be: petulant, entitled, and proud, not believing anything could hurt or break him, and by extension, those he cared about. But most of all, for the man who still carried the guilt and remorse over a loss most people couldn’t comprehend, let alone carry for so long.

  Now, he makes sense to me in every way, the manwhore unwilling to commit to more than a night of sex, afraid to allow a woman close enough to use him in any way. The asshole, refusing to be in any way vulnerable by not making room for caring, or to feeling pain again, because he was already carrying enough every day. The control he demands over his life, both public and personal is huge. How the hell he ever let me in I will never know, and I will never take it for granted, ever.

  For a long time, neither of us moves. Gradually, the pounding of his heart slows and I know he’s fallen asleep. There are a half dozen things I should be doing, yet the idea of moving fades as quickly it appears. Slowly, I follow Ethan into sleep.

  The trilling of Ethan’s phone wakes us both in a sudden jolt that makes me instantly cranky. With a kiss on my forehead, Ethan reaches for his phone. It’s a client with a personal problem. I roll off him knowing he’s going to his office. He squeezes my leg as he goes and I roll back over to see it’s a little after six. We slept longer than I thought we would. My stomach gurgles, telling me we slept too long.