Knocked Up by Brother's Best Friend

by Amy Brent

  “You must be Mr. Jeffries,” a smiling woman said. “I’m Mrs. Tottle, Lacey’s kindergarten teacher.”

  Her gray and white hair was piled up onto her head while glasses slid down her nose. She reminded me of that stereotypical grandmother you saw in all those movies, and I got a kick at how jovial she was for the school year to begin. The kids ran around her legs and got into all the things in her classroom, and she talked me through how their first day was going to go.

  “Today’s just gonna be a nice introduction day. We’ll sit in a circle and introduce ourselves, and then we will all name an activity we like to do. Then, all of the kids will do that activity for a little while to help get to know their peers in their classroom.”

  “That sounds fantastic, Mrs. Tottle. Thank you so much.”

  “Oh, it’s not a problem,” she said. “And rest assured, if Lacey struggles in any way, I will be sure to give you a call. We have some things we try first, like taking them to another playroom for some alone time and going to the library to read to get them to settle down, but if they don’t, the parents get a call, and they can instruct us on where to go from there.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” I said. “Thank you, Mrs. Tottle.”

  My eyes drifted over to Lacey, who had already bonded with a little boy with glasses and a taller girl who walked with braces on her legs. They were playing with playdough, and she was helping the little boy make what looked like to be a pizza. They were giggling and smiling and having the best time. I decided it would be best to slip out while she was preoccupied, so I shook Mrs. Tottle’s hand one last time before I headed to my car.

  I sat in the parking lot of the school while a tear ran down my face. My little girl was growing up and experiencing things she’d carry for the rest of her life. It meant I was actually doing something right. Her feeling comfortable enough to step away from me and make friends like that meant I’d instilled in her a confidence not all women had, and I felt my chest puff out in pride at that realization.

  I never shed a fucking tear over that bitch who gave birth to her, but I’d shed many tears over the course of my little girl growing up. She was my baby, and I was slowly watching her turn into, well, now my little girl.

  I cranked my car and headed on to Bridget’s, and when I got there, she whipped the door open before I could get to the doorbell.

  “Looking out for me, I see?” I asked.

  “How did she do? Did she cry? Did you cry? Did she make friends? Is she having fun?”

  It was taken aback by how excited she was to know about Lacey’s first drop off at school. It was a bit unnerving, but seeing a young woman actually take interest in my daughter felt somewhat relieving. It was the attention her mother should have given her, and it showed me that people were capable of caring for my daughter, even though she wasn’t theirs.

  “She did well,” I said. “I dropped her off and met her teacher, and by the time I left, she had already made a couple of friends. I think she’ll do well.”

  “Oh, that’s so good. Good, good, good.” I saw her arm jiggling at her side, and I knew something had made her nervous. I felt my hand naturally gravitate toward my gun while I looked around the home, but a light pressure on my arm ripped me from my protective trance.

  “No one’s here,” she said. “I’m nervous because we have a photoshoot we gotta leave for soon. I wasn’t sure if you would be coming or not today.”

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m here. When’s the shoot?”

  “Noon.”

  “Well, it’s only a little past nine. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “It takes two hours to do hair and makeup,” she said, giggling.

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Now, come on. The car’s almost here.”

  We got into the car and headed for the photoshoot, and I couldn’t get that timeframe out of my mind. Two hours to put on a bit of makeup and do up some hair? Was she serious? I’d be standing in a room with hairspray and lipstick for two solid hours, and I wasn’t really looking forward to that at all.

  When we got there, we were escorted to a dressing room. Bridget sat down in a chair that sat in front of a massive mirror, and someone promptly brought another chair for me to sit on. I was thankful I wouldn’t have to stand for two hours while I watched them paint her down with all sorts of colors, but when she started talking, I started to relax back a bit.

  “Got a favorite color, Mr. Jeffries?” she asked.

  “Orange. Like a deep, burnt orange.”

  “So, you’re a fall kinda guy?”

  “Fall and spring,” I said. “My daughter loves the different colors that bloom and fade.”

  “I’m a summer gal,” she said. “Give me the beaches and bikinis and sun-kissed men any day.”

  “The beach and the mountains both have their appeal.”

  “Hot tub or bathtub?” she asked.

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Depends. Do you wanna play?” She shot me a sultry look while someone started curling her hair around a massive iron, and the thought of getting to know her better honestly sounded nice. So, I decided to indulge her little fantasy of twenty questions with her bodyguard.

  “Bathtub,” I said. “Being naked with a woman is always better than being clothed.”

  “Oh, sounds scandalous,” she said with a smirk.

  “Morning or night?” I asked.

  “Night. I love how it blankets the world and makes it seem more mysterious.”

  “So, you’re a mystery kinda gal?” I asked. “Does this mean our next date should be at a mystery theater?”

  “You know, I’ve never been to one of those,” she said.

  “Hold still.” The makeup artist painted her lips quickly with this deep shade of purple, and I sat back and waited for her to continue. I wanted to know more about her as we got to talking, and part of me was pissed that some makeup gal was interrupting the flow in conversation.

  “You should go. They’re nice. I went once before I had my daughter. Figured that shit out, too.”

  “Oh, strong and smart,” she said. “Two for two.”

  “Photoshoots or movies?” I asked.

  “Photoshoots, definitely. Less time, less costume changes, and less barking of orders.”

  “Got that right,” the makeup artist said.

  “I have a question that isn’t an ‘either-or’ one,” she said.

  “Shoot. I’m an open book.”

  “Did Lacey’s mom die in childbirth?”

  I felt my blood run cold with the words that descended upon my ears. She’d obviously been thinking about that moment in the car when she’d asked me about Lacey’s mother and I didn’t answer. I couldn’t blame her for being curious, but it was highly hypocritical that she would ask me about such a personal moment without revealing the personal reason why I was here to take care of her.

  “That probably would’ve been better,” I said.

  “Wow, what’d she do?” she asked.

  “Tried to abort her, then tried to give her up for adoption against my wishes. I legally intervened and collected me daughter, and then, she took off.”

  “What the fuck?” she asked. “Who the hell would do something like that?”

  “A raging bitch that didn’t deserve the daughter she popped out.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeffries.”

  “Thomas,” I said.

  “What?”

  “If we’re gonna get this personal, just call me ‘Thomas’, Miss Meyers.”

  “Then it’s ‘Bridget’ to you,” she said with a grin.

  “All right, you’re all set,” the makeup artist said.

  “Thank god,” Bridget said. “My ass is numb.”

  “Stand up and jiggle it a bit, that always helps me,” I said.

  “You’d like that little show, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

  “Hey, I was just helping out,” I said, w
hile I raised my hands in mock surrender.

  I followed her out to the photoshoot, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. They had her changing into different outfits in a corner before she walked onto this cloth that was draped around bars, and she looked absolutely stunning. Fans blew her hair back, and those plump lips were pushed out for a massive pout. Her tits were shoved to her chin, and her ass jutted out, beckoning for the dick that was throbbing in my pants.

  She was a gorgeous woman, and she had me entranced with the poses she took. Some of them were of her laughing, and some of them were of her crawling on the ground. Some were simply smiles, and some had mysterious undertones, but the one I enjoyed the most was when she looked over at me. Her eyes lit up, and a playful grin creeped across her face. The photographer seemed excited to catch her in such a vulnerable moment before she peeled her gaze from mine and started showing off for the camera again.

  It was the first time in my entire career I’d ever been focused on the person instead of their surroundings. I finally started clocking entrances and exits and studying the people in the room, but every single time my eyes came back to her, she was looking over at me.

  Making sure I didn’t go anywhere.

  Whatever the hell this beautiful woman had gotten herself into, it was rattling her to her core.

  And I was determined to figure out what it was.

  Chapter 5

  Bridget

  I looked at the clock when the photoshoot was finally over and realized it was well past four. Thomas had kept his eyes on me the entire time, and my skin tingled with every gaze he fluttered in my direction. There was one moment where he walked up beside the photographer and was watching all the pictures he was taking, and the light casted just the right angle, straight onto his cock, and I couldn’t stop staring. It looked like he had this huge dick sitting behind those pants, and my lips strained with desire from wanting to wrap themselves around it.

  I was thankful that no more outfit changes were needed because I had definitely spilled into the panties I was wearing. I walked off set and was given a few of the articles of clothing. I thanked the designer for letting me keep them. That was one of the perks that came with photoshoots that I absolutely loved, but the best part was when some of the artists were willing to hand over their hair and makeup products as well.

  I didn’t have any this time, but the clothes were phenomenal, and I felt satisfied for the day.

  But then, it hit me. What time did Lacey get out of school?

  “Thomas!” I called out.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “When are you supposed to get Lacey from school?”

  “Not a problem. My parents picked her up at three-thirty. They knew I’d be gone until eight.”

  “No, no,” I said. “You go home. I’ll still pay you until eight. It’s your daughter’s first day at school, and she’s probably wanting to tell you all about it.”

  “Are you sure? Because my parents are with her until eight.”

  “I’m sure,” I said while we started for the car. “And I’ll still pay you until eight. Go be with your daughter.”

  “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

  We pulled up in front of my house, and Thomas was kind enough to see me in before he headed out. I stood inside the doorway, watching that tight ass of his all the way to his car. He looked back and waved before he finally left. It felt nice to do something good for him, especially with all he was doing for me, keeping me safe and whatnot. But my pussy was still throbbing from getting an eyeful of that cock he had in his pants, and I was thankful for the alone time.

  I waved my driver off before turning toward my stairs, and I took them two by two to get up to my room. I wanted to shower and get all this powder and shit off my body, but what I was really gunning for was that removable showerhead.

  I started the shower and got it running as hot as I could stand it before I ripped all my clothes off. I walked out and tossed them on my bed before I sank to my knees, and I pulled a small tote out from underneath my bed and unlatched the hinges. I kept all my fun toys in this little leather case, dildos, butt plugs, and blindfolds. I had to really keep a lid on my sex life, which meant I had to be very picky on who I slept with, and that meant I was usually giving myself most of my orgasms.

  I couldn’t risk someone leaking shit to the media and having my freak ways plastered all over the screen, so I indulged in the finest toys the country had to offer in order to get my rocks off.

  I pulled out a glittery purple dildo that had veins running over it like a real dick. It was thick and juicy, just like the cock I knew Thomas had in those slacks of his. I took it to the shower and stepped in with it. The water flowed over my painfully puckered nipples while I lathered my body in suds, and as the foundation-tinted water swirled down the drain, Thomas’s lips came to mind.

  I thought about him placing sloppy wet kisses all along the crook of my neck while I ripped that suit coat of his off. I bet he liked to nip and leave marks on the women he slept with, and I shivered at the thought of him sucking my nipples until they turned red with anger. I tweaked my nipples and pulled at them while the hot water peppered my skin in its red trails. My thighs squeezed together when the wetness of the water mingled with the wetness of my pussy.

  I thought about those thick, meaty arms picking me up like a ragdoll and shoving me into the wall. I bet that thick cock would gravitate toward my tight pussy like a horse to water, and suddenly, I saw him diving between my legs.

  “Shit,” I said breathlessly.

  I reached up and plucked the showerhead from its holster and changed it until just a thin stream of water was shooting from its center. I laid myself down onto my massive shower floor, grabbed the glittering purple dildo, and slipped it easily into my center. I closed my eyes and slid it in, inch by inch, groaning at the idea of Thomas sliding his raging cock deep into my body. I felt my pussy clench around it, and I envisioned how his face would scrunch up in pleasure. I bet that shiny forehead of his would wrinkle while he furrowed his brow and grunted with every centimeter that dove into my hot depths.

  “Shit, Thomas,” I said. “You’re so big for me.”

  I spread my legs wide and let the stream of water slowly glaze over my folds. I imagined his piercing blue eyes begging me to look at him while he took me everywhere he wanted. I saw us against the wall and on the bed, in my agent’s office and in the back of my car. I saw him leaning me over the kitchen table and pulling his dick between his zipper because he couldn’t resist how mussed I looked in the morning, and I shook when my swollen clit finally emerged from underneath its hood and sought out the thick stream of water.

  “Oh, fuck. Thomas.”

  My body undulated into the water while my free hand gravitated toward my ass. I saw him teasing that massive cock against my asshole, threatening to tear it apart while I begged for mercy. I popped my finger through the tight constraints of my little hole, just as the water found the tip of my clit, and all at once, my body began to quiver. I shook at the idea of Thomas filling both of my holes with his dick and my toys, his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming out in the broom closet of my newest movie set.

  This man was fucking me up, and when my orgasm finally barreled across my body, I shot that dildo out from between my legs and felt my juices flowing out onto the shower floor.

  “Thomas! Shit! Yes. Just like that. Oh, fuck that asshole. Come on. Give it to me good.”

  My body collapsed into a puddle while the showerhead fell from between my fingers. I laid there, staring up at the clouds of steam with my jaw unhinged. I’d never had a world-shattering orgasm like that while I masturbated before, and I blamed it on the eye candy I now had to stand around every single day until my life could get back on track.

  Maybe then, I could experience what kind of orgasm his own cock could give me.

  But right now, all I had to go on was my memories, my fantasies, and that bulge behind his pants
.

  Chapter 6

  Thomas

  I was sitting in Bridget’s kitchen, waiting for her to get up. She’d finally given me a key to her house, and we’d worked out a schedule where I could still drop off and pick up Lacey from school, and it showed me a lot about her personality. It meant she gave a shit about the life I had outside of my job, and not many high-profile clients cared about that kind of thing. Even my parents were impressed, which was a feat, in and of itself. They were protective of me and my daughter, ever since her mother pulled all the bullshit she did, and my mother was worried when she figured out who I was guarding.

  I sat there sipping a cup of coffee as I heard a crash on the floor. I hopped up and pulled my gun from my holster and started running up the stairs. I cleared the corners, making my way to her room. All sorts of thoughts started running through my mind: someone had followed me in, or someone had come through her window. She’d brought someone home from somewhere, and they were trying to take advantage of her, or maybe she had been poisoned.