Baby and the Beast

by Taylor Holloway

  He pulled me to him, settling me atop him, straddling him in my dress. There wasn’t a ton of room even in the backseat of the SUV. I’d been feeling not-so-great about my body the last few weeks. Things were changing in me. My breasts were bigger, but also tender. My stomach felt rounder. But all that insecurity melted away when Connor pulled at my dress and stared hungrily at my chest.

  “You look incredible,” he rasped, staring at my new, bigger boobs in shock. It was incredible how much they’d seemed to inflate in only a couple of weeks. His hands cupped me from beneath and I stared down at him shyly. “I wonder how big you’ll get?”

  I was panting even before his mouth closed on my nipple. My over-sensitive body could barely take it, but instead of the aching discomfort of the past few weeks, I was on pleasure overload. My hormones were on overdrive.

  Connor worked on one nipple and then the other, sucking and nipping at me until each nipple was a hard, sensitive point. I’d known that pregnancy would change the way my body would feel. I didn’t know that it would make me capable of orgasming with just touch to my nipples though. I was teetering near the edge and we’d just gotten started.

  I’d googled pregnancy sex. I knew the whole sudden, multiple orgasms thing was a possibility. But I didn’t think it would be like this for me… Suddenly I prayed it would be like this for me.

  “Don’t stop,” I whimpered, leaning into his kisses and arching my back. I tangled my fingers in his long hair. “I’m so close.”

  He looked up at me in surprise. Then his expression shifted, becoming knowing and mischievous.

  “All those pregnancy hormones must be kicking in,” he touched gently between my legs, feeling that I was wetter than I’d ever been in my entire life. Just the feeling of a finger there was enough to push me right to the edge. “You’re so ready, aren’t you?”

  “Please…” I was begging and it was fine. I needed what I needed.

  Connor pushed his index finger inside me. “Okay baby,” whispered against my nipple, pushing me straight into orgasm like it was as simple as pressing a button. A second finger joined the first and he pumped in and out. “Go ahead and come for me now.”

  I spasmed around his fingers, spiraling into pleasure far earlier than I’d ever thought possible. It seemed to go on and on, stoked to continue by Connor’s continued pressure on my nipple. By the time I came down, Connor was looking at me as if in shock.

  “Is this what pregnancy sex is like?” he stuttered. He looked excited beyond belief. “I just breathe on you and you come?” I could tell he liked the idea. I wasn’t sure my body could take it. But at the same time, I knew that I needed it.

  I laughed weakly, working my hips down onto his fingers and ready for more. “Don’t ask me, I have no idea,” I said. “But if you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die. I do know that.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he teased, unbuckling his pants and giving me another good look at his gigantic cock. Only this time, I was not intimidated by it. I was ready for it.

  He joined us together, pressing me down by pushing on my hips until I was sitting all the way down in his lap. I relished the penetration, tipping my head back and inhaling the feeling and the smell of him. It didn’t hurt. We were a perfect fit. Perfect.

  “Christ, you feel tight right now,” he whispered in my ear. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m great. Fuck me now,” I ordered. “Please.”

  He laughed. “Bossy tonight? I like it.”

  I moved up and down, bouncing on top of him in the confined space as best I could. I’d never in my life been so desperate to ride a cock. Conner watched me go, looking as turned on as he was shocked by the need in me. My body felt like it was on fire, and the only thing that could quench my need was him.

  My second orgasm shook me harder than the first, and it arrived with even less warning. One minute I thought I was at fifty percent, and then boom, I was coming again. I bit back a scream, plunging blindly right back into mind-blowing pleasure. Connor watched me come wide eyed, probably feeling me tighten around him and certainly hearing me make a high-pitched, keening noise.

  “Again?” he panted, looking up at me. “Okay, keep going,” he bit out. “Let’s see how many times you can come for me.”

  His fingers moved back to my nipples as I continued to bounce. I wanted more. So much more. He pinched at me, using both hands to draw forth even more sensation from me like I was an instrument that he knew just exactly how to play. My third orgasm hit me like a bass drop.

  This was like the sex people had in pornos where the woman came over and over. I thought that was a myth. Apparently, you just have to be pregnant.

  Every time I came, Connor got rougher with me. He was getting close, too, and the speed and friction he was demanding was pushing me higher. I was wetter than I’d ever been. Tighter than I’d ever been. Hornier than I’d ever been, and I’d just come three times in fifteen minutes.

  Time lost all meaning for me. I was moving and bouncing and saying words to Connor. Begging him to do dirty things to me that I’d never wanted before. I wanted him to pull my hair until I screamed. I wanted him to stick his cock up my ass and pound me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him to come on my face and call me names. Every secret, hidden fantasy I’d ever had was coming out of my mouth all at once.

  Three weeks without sex had worked me up into a deprived, pregnant, horny sex monster. But Connor definitely didn’t seem to mind. He watched me ride him like it was my fucking job and gave it back to me in spades. When I finally came a fourth time, somehow managing to find another climax, he came with me. I’d never come at the same time as a partner, either. But we stared into each other’s eyes when our pleasure crested over, and I could swear that it was love that I saw in him. I knew it was love that he saw in me.

  46

  Connor

  The Good News

  After we made love, after we dragged ourselves back to the helicopter and finally home, I curled my body around Isabelle’s and drifted off to sleep feeling peaceful and happier than I could remember in… in my whole life really.

  The next morning, Isabelle and I headed into the doctor’s office. It was time for Isabelle’s twelve-week check-in, although at this point she was almost at thirteen weeks. We might find out the gender of the baby today. I was terrified. Excited, but terrified.

  What if the pregnancy wasn’t going as planned? What if there was a genetic problem? Or Isabelle was at risk? This was where it all went wrong last time…

  Plus, I wanted to ask the doctor about the sex we’d had last night. Never in my life had I managed to make a woman come four times without going down on her for, like, an hour. I wanted to make sure that was normal. I wasn’t complaining or anything, I was stoked, but I didn’t think female anatomy worked like Isabelle’s was working lately.

  “I should have come with you to more of these appointments,” I said, looking around the baby pink and blue waiting room. There were other couples here, all couples. No single women. Everyone looked as excited-slash-terrified as I felt. “This must have been strange to do alone.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “It was fine. They don’t actually do much in the first trimester.” Her expression shifted and she brushed my hair back. Her soft brown eyes were so beautiful. I leaned into her hand grateful for any contact. “But I’m glad you’re here now. This is all starting to feel so real.”

  I nodded. “I know what you mean.” There were pictures of babies everywhere in here.

  “Isabelle Schmidt?” A pink scrub-wearing nurse asked. “We’re ready for you now.”

  Isabelle and I followed the nurse back to a little exam room. The doctor, a small, grandmotherly woman arrived almost immediately. Dr. Rose was the best obstetrician in the country, maybe in the world. It had been an adventure getting her to take Isabelle as a patient, but with enough money, almost anything is possible.

  “Isabelle!” she said, poking her h
ead in and coming inside. “Is it thirteen weeks already?” She blinked at my presence. “And you brought the father! Good.”

  Isabelle nodded. Dr. Rose was aware of the unusual arrangement that led to Isabelle’s pregnancy, but she seemed totally nonplussed to see us holding hands like any other one of her expectant couples. I could imagine that she’d seen it all, and more. She’d been delivering babies for more than forty years. We couldn’t be the weirdest set of parents she’d ever seen. Not even close.

  “Well, let’s get to it, shall we?” Dr. Rose said, looking over Isabelle’s chart. “You’re going to need the H1N1 vaccine today since we’re in flu season, I want to recalibrate some of your prenatal vitamins, but mostly, I want to get a look at that baby of yours. Are you ready?”

  Isabelle and I exchanged a nervous look and then nodded.

  Ready? I wasn’t sure. But I guess I was about to find out.

  Isabelle was laid back and a Vaseline-like goo applied to her lower abdomen. An ultrasound machine was pulled in from a closet and fired up. A moment later and we were all staring at… something.

  “What am I seeing?” I asked.

  “Right now?” Dr. Rose asked. “The wrong organ. Give me a second.” She jiggled the little wand.

  Now I could see a big circle and then a smaller circle inside it. Then the picture shifted a little bit and… a baby. I could see a head, and a body, and four short limbs. My heartbeat tripled.

  “Is that her?” Isabelle asked. She was gripping my hand so tightly that my fingers had gone entirely numb. I didn’t care. I was too distracted by the picture of my baby, the very first picture of my baby. I was shaking slightly.

  Dr. Rose smiled at us. “That’s her. You were right. The baby is officially female. I don’t see any male genitalia, and this is a pretty good angle. I’m comfortable making the call right now.”

  A girl. I was having a baby girl. I stared at my daughter on the screen. I could hear her heartbeat and see her moving her limbs. She was real, alive, and I loved her. I loved her more than I’d ever loved anything in my life. Even now, I’d trade my life for hers. My entire universe realigned itself in an instant, expanding to accommodate her.

  I was glad that Isabelle wasn’t paralyzed like I was. She was asking the questions that I should be asking. “Is everything okay? Normal?”

  I snapped out of my trance, intent on hearing the answer. Dr. Rose looked around at the picture before answering.

  “Looks totally normal to me,” she said. She shrugged her tiny shoulders and squinted through her thick glasses. “Looks good.”

  “All her fingers and toes are there?”

  “I see all the normal, healthy things going on with this baby. All limbs and structures accounted for and symmetrical. I don’t see anything that looks unusual or troubling. Heartbeat is one hundred and fifty beats per minute.”

  “That seems high,” I interjected.

  “It’s perfect for this age,” she reassured me without looking up from the picture on the machine. “Tiny hearts need to beat quickly. I’ll get you a couple of prints of these images.”

  “How big is she?” Isabelle asked.

  “A couple of inches,” Dr. Rose replied. “She’s approximately the size a plum by volume. She weighs less though.”

  “Is that the right size?” Isabelle asked. She was staring at the picture, transfixed by it.

  “It’s perfect,” Dr. Rose reassured us. “She’s going to grow very quickly now. Next week she’ll be a lemon. Then a nectarine. Then an apple. By the time you come back, she’ll probably be the size of an avocado. Expect your baby bump to start coming in soon.”

  I appreciated the fruit analogies. That helped me visualize it better than inches. Plus, it was cute.

  Isabelle looked over at me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I’d come prepared with a whole list of questions. But I was unable to ask any of them. I was unable to do much at the moment. If my daughter was a fruit at this point, her father was a vegetable. Too stunned to form words.

  “It’s actually quite normal for the dads to get sick at these visits,” Dr. Rose said, looking over at what I only imagined was a very pale, shaky version of me. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need a minute?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t feel alright.” I took a deep breath and squeezed Isabelle’s hand. “But I feel good.”

  I officially had it all. The perfect baby. The perfect woman. It all felt too good to be true, and yet, it was true.

  47

  Connor

  The Bad News

  I’d finally gotten what I needed to be happy. Now all I needed was to keep it. And we’d made it through one lion’s den, already. What could be harder than Isabelle meeting Wallace Prince?

  The answer arrived the following morning, in the form of Luc banging on the door.

  “I have to show you something right now,” he ordered. He looked panicked. His tie was untied around his neck and his shirt was rumpled. I gaped at him.

  “It’s six a.m.,” I told him. I hadn’t even had coffee yet. Whatever he needed to show me could surely wait for coffee.

  His expression said it couldn’t. “I’m already late. I couldn’t make it over last night. One of the kids was sick and… anyway, I’m sorry.”

  Isabelle had followed me down the stairs. She was wearing her fuzzy sheep pajamas and looked adorably rumpled and well-loved. Her hair was a mess. She stretched her arms and watched us in confusion.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. She yawned. “It’s really early.”

  “It’ll be easier if I show you both at once,” Luc said. He pulled his laptop out and set it on the table. A few clicks later and we were watching a recording of something. Luc paused the recording before it could start. “This is from 24/7 Entertainment,” he explained. “It’s one of those cable news programs that report on sensational shit. They’ve been doing a big “Me Too” push recently. Watch.”

  A big read graphic flew up on the screen. It read “Hollywood Scandal.” My blood ran cold. What now?!

  A beautiful dark-haired woman stared seriously into the camera. She was wearing a dark suit and sitting in front of an American flag. The music that accompanied her intro was soaring and orchestral. Everything about her production projected authority and intensity. I already hated whatever she was about to say about me. Because I knew it wasn’t good.

  “Fifteen years ago,” she started, “Connor Prince was the king of Hollywood. He was the industry’s most bankable star. He starred in hit after hit, tackling each genre in turn and proving that he was as versatile as he was good looking. It seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t do. But Hollywood success was not enough for Prince. He felt called to serve his country after 9-11.”

  I gulped. Luc looked over at me and I could feel the pressure of his gaze. I stayed focused on the recording, too shocked to move. This was really happening. Actually, it had already happened. The date stamp said this aired last night. Right about the time I was fucking Isabelle into sweet oblivion with her legs pinned to her shoulders, this was streaming into American homes. I couldn’t do anything now but watch and learn whatever the world already knew.

  “Like Elvis did in 1958, Prince felt called to serve his country even at the peak of his film career,” the newswoman said. Her expression continued to be extremely serious. She kept unwavering eye contact with the camera, barely even pausing to blink. “He chose to enlist in the army, serving one tour of duty in Iraq in 2003. Only, instead of returning home a military hero, like Elvis, Prince’s military service was cut short.”

  Fuck. Well, here we go. I sat down, feeling out of my body. Isabelle put a hand on my shoulder, and I put one over it, absorbing her comfort as best I could. We both knew what was coming.

  “Prince was arrested by the military police after assaulting and almost murdering his direct superior officer. The man he attacked was in intensive care for six hours. Prince was subject to court martial, but somehow, he managed to avoid the
consequences. He cut a deal with the military and returned home to Hollywood. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have much success finding roles with the equivalent of a felony assault on his record. He slipped into obscurity. But this story isn’t new,” the woman was saying. “It was all reported on years ago. Connor’s slow slip into relative obscurity was national news for months. But what isn’t as well known is what happened after he disappeared.” She paused dramatically. “Because he didn’t really disappear. Over the past thirteen years, Connor Prince has been secretly active in Hollywood. He’s been producing movies and even acting in them, but only under heavy makeup. All this time, a man who nearly killed someone and was dishonorably discharged from the US military has been a fixture in Hollywood. Tonight, we’re going to speak with his victim, Captain Quintin Rodriguez. We’ve talked a lot about the men who hurt women and how they get away with anything on this program. Tonight, we’re going to talk about how money and privilege can make victims out of men, too. If we truly want a just society, we have to acknowledge that privilege can take many forms. And we have to confront power and temper it with justice.”

  I couldn’t breathe. The recording kept on playing. Captain Rodriguez, Quin, the man I knew to be a rapist, came on the screen and explained how he walked with a permanent limp now. How hard his life had become after returning to the States. He talked about how he still had nightmares from the attack, which he also explained was entirely unprovoked. I ground my teeth.

  Lies. All this time later and he’s still telling lies about me. I wondered who paid him to get up on camera and do this interview. I wanted to put his ass, and whoever was bankrolling him, back in intensive care.