Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance

by Ashley Stewart

“You're such a bawdy little thing, aren't you, Angela? You want my cock driving into your tight little cunt and making you scream, don't you?”

  Angela felt her throat bob with the thick, heavy swallow that was her response, feeling suspiciously like someone who was caught red handed doing something that she shouldn't have.

  “No sense in hiding it, sweet thing. It was written all over your face.” He leaned down and began to nip and suck at her neck again before murmuring into her ear, “Seeing your thoughts laid bare for me made me unbearably hard, so I'm going to make sure that you take complete and utter responsibility for the way that you make me feel.”

  He licked the shell of her earlobe in one long stroke before taking her it into his mouth and nibbling at the flesh there. His impatience and eagerness at an all-time high, he slowly began to slide his cock along the outer lips of her entrance, slicking his manhood with her juices. Just that touch alone was enough for both of them to gasp and hiss in pleasure, and it left them wanting more of each other.

  “You dirty girl,” he grinned when he felt how drenched her nether lips were. “Look at how wet you are.” He swiped his pointer finger along her slit beside his cock and brought the glistening digit to her mouth. Obediently, she parted her lips and allowed him to slip his finger into her mouth, and she licked her sweet, tangy nectar off of it. He groaned at the sight of her blinking coquettishly up at him as she sampled the evidence of her own arousal from his finger, and had to pull his finger away before his need for her rushed things more than he wanted to take them – he had, after all, intended on drawing this out as much as he could.

  Although he wasn't immune to her eagerness and the want for more from the way that his cock was steadily being coated in her juices, David took immense pleasure in the way that Angela was left breathless and panting for more with the simple act of readying himself for her. Satisfied with the way that her face twisted into a tortured, lustful expression, he lined up his manhood at her entrance and plunged his erection deep into her channel, burying himself all the way to the hilt as he smashed his lips into hers. His tongue returned to its previous task of delving into her mouth, and she did her best to try and breathe in spite of the way he was thoroughly kissing her.

  She mewled at the way that his cock spread her channel so widely, and the sensation made her drag her nails along his back, where she was sure that there would be angry red lines giving away their activities, but in that moment, she found that she couldn't find it in herself to care as his cock drove deeply into her passage, his hips snapping and pressing flush against hers from how deeply seated he pushed himself into her.

  Breaking the kiss that their tongues were tangled in, David stared down at her with a gaze that was somehow more heated than it had been before, his lips tugging into a lewd smirk as he continued to pump himself into her, making her moan louder and louder from the intense pleasure. Needing more, feeling like he could never get enough, he gripped her waist and lifted her ever so slightly, but it was enough to completely change the angle of his penetration, creating a sharper spike in arousal that shot through Angela's core, and already she felt the coil in her belly winding tighter and tighter.

  His thrusts became erratic and unrestrained, and he moaned in a way that sounded suspiciously like her name to her already heightened senses, and she clenched around him all the tighter, willing him to fall over the edge with her. Breaking apart, he smirked at her again, and his hand came up and began to tweak her nipple, flicking the hardened nub and squeezing her breast.

  The extra stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she finally came with a cry of his name on her lips, her hips jerking in an attempt to ride out the pleasure. He groaned at the way that her walls clamped down around him, but he resolved not to fill her with his seed just yet, wanting to draw out both his pleasure and hers. His thumb circled her clit as he pounded his manhood into her, wanting her orgasm to last as long as possible. She wailed when he continued to stimulate her in spite of the fact that she had already achieved her orgasm, her body writing under his attentions and her hands gripping his shoulders in a futile attempt to ground herself against the raging tides of pleasure that coursed through her.

  “Can you handle this, my pet? Can you take what I'm giving you?” he asked with a crooked smile.

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed with a nod. He leaned into her further, dipping his head to nip at her neck lightly with his teeth. She let her head fall back against the cushion of the couch under her, giving him better access that he wasted no time in exploiting.

  “You like it when I do this to you, don't you?” he breathed against her neck before giving the flesh there a long stroke with his tongue. “You want more, don't you?”

  “Oh, please,” was all she managed to get out before he pulled back and crashed his lips into hers, a hand coming up to tangle in her thick locks of hair, the other wrapping around her waist to tug her impossibly closer, letting his cock drive impossibly deeper still into her. He relished in the moans that escaped her, and stole every one of them for himself as he kissed her. “Please,” she said as though the words were punched out of her.

  He loved it when she got so worked up like this, so in need of him that she could barely breathe.

  He rolled his hips in a particular way that sent her reeling, and she felt tears springing up in her eyes again as she felt, a second orgasm building within her. Or perhaps she was still just too stimulated to come down from her previous orgasm; everything was blurring together, and she wasn't sure where it ended and another began, but as long as she was going to feel this good, she couldn't find it in her to care.

  “I'm getting close,” he panted as he ground his hips against hers particularly hard again. “I don't think I can hold back anymore,” he said honestly, his hips jerking erratically to reflect his lack of control over himself.

  “Angela,” he huffed her name against her skin as he moved, the snap of their bodies parting and coming together in a frantic rhythm that he struggled to stick to with the build-up of his own orgasm. He shifted in just the right way that he felt his shaft rub her clitoris just enough and in just the right way that it was all that it took before she was coming apart again, hips undulating to ride out the waves of her orgasm as she writhed beneath him wildly. The clenching of her orgasm was too much for him, and he followed soon after. He came with a hoarse cry of her name, and pulsed his hot seed into her until there was nothing left.

  It wasn't long before they were setting their clothes to rights, and trying to look as though nothing had happened. Angela dawdled, and she knew that it was because she was putting off explaining what had happened to her, but David was clearly not having any of it, if the firm look he was giving her was any indication.

  “Alright, out with it,” he said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. “What in the world is weighing so heavily on you that you practically threw yourself at me like that?” He held up his hands. “Not that I'm complaining about it, mind you, but I've never seen you look so, so…” he fumbled for the right word, “frantic.”

  Angela sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around herself. “Someone's coming for me.”

  His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone left a note on my door yesterday demanding that I not poke my head into other people's business, or else,” she clenched her hands into fists. “They didn't say what exactly that, 'or else,' would entail, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm in danger.”

  “Angela,” he started, his hand already reaching for the phone. She shook her head.

  “I already called the police, and they're looking into it, but it's got me on edge. I feel like I can't go anywhere without feeling like I have eyes on me.”

  He nodded slowly as he processed what she was saying.

  “Have the police said anything further on the matter?”

  She shook her head again. “No, only that they would look into it and get back to me if they found any
thing,” she shrugged. “It's probably the best that they can do with so little to go off of.”

  “That hardly puts you at ease, though,” David said. “Would you feel safer if you stayed at my place? I would certainly have no complaints on the matter,” he smirked, clearly trying to help take her mind off of things, but she merely shook her head again.

  “That would leave my roommate alone and possibly in danger. I can't let that happen, not when it's because of something that I did.”

  David nodded again, pensive as he contemplated what he would say next to her.

  “Then,” he relaxed his arms and walked around to the other side of his desk, easing himself into his office chair, “would to concede to my giving you some of my security detail so that you and your roommate could at least feel safer knowing that someone was looking out for you?”

  “David,” she began in a tired voice, as she didn't even know where to begin to think with an offer like that on the table.

  “No strings attached,” he said, palms out in a placating manner. “I can't just sit idly by and allow my girlfriend to be stalked and harassed and not do anything about it, especially not when I have the power to at least give her some form of protection.”

  She smiled, touched that he was so concerned about her, and she opened her mouth to articulate as such to him, but let the words die on her tongue when the phone buzzed from line one, the emergency call line.

  “Of all the times for this,” David groaned but picked the phone up off of the receiver and turned the speaker function on. “Yes, this is David Westley.”

  “I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Westley,” came the timid voice of the receptionist on the other end of the line. “But the police are back with more questions.” He groaned again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Very well. Send them in,” he said before abruptly hanging up the phone harder than he really needed to. Angela hesitated for a moment before quietly speaking up.

  “Should I go...?” she asked, taking one step toward the elevator already in preparation for him to tell her that it was better that she leave. He shook his head and held up a hand to stop her.

  “No, no, if anything, telling the detectives about what happened at your house might help their case, too. I have a sneaking suspicion that the two are related, and I think that you do, too,” he said, and she nodded.

  She had wondered if there was a correlation between the two, but given that she had had no real solid evidence supporting that, she couldn't definitively say.

  “Please,” he said, rising from his seat and walking over to the couch with her. “Take a seat, relax as best you can. I can't imagine that the detectives will be particularly kind to you in questioning you about it, if my interrogation was any indication,” he said with a wry smile as they heard the elevator dinging from the hallway. After a few moments of listening to approaching footsteps, the two detectives that Angela saw before came into view.

  “Ah, there you are, Mr. Westley,” said the taller of the two detectives. “We didn't see you there.”

  “I was helping my assistant cope with what's happened to her,” David answered swiftly. “Looks like it might be related to your case.”

  “Depends on what it was,” said the other detective, a far more taciturn looking man with his arms folded firmly over his chest. “We're not here to waste our time, Westley. We've got a case to solve.”

  “Then it might behoove you to listen to what happened to her last night,” David said curtly, his temper clearly running short. The detectives silently turned to look at her, and she understood in that moment what David had been warning her about.

  “I, ah,” she stammered before clearing her throat. “I found a letter taped to my door last night,” she pulled out her phone and opened the picture of it that she took. “Warning me not to look into other people’s business, or else.”

  “You've been investigating the murder and the attack?” The taller detective frowned. “Why?”

  “I work here. I was worried I might eventually be targeted.”

  The grumpier detective sighed. “Looks like you already have been.”

  The Billionaire’s Exclusive Book 8

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  “I may already be involved?” Angela frowned, but couldn't find it within her to feel surprised at the comment the detective sent her way. At this point, it would be more surprising if she wasn't involved in some vague way. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side as the detective turned back to David.

  “I wouldn't be surprised to find out that this is related to the case, but there's most likely nothing we can glean from it at this point. There's very little evidence in the main case as it is, I doubt there's much more that can be contributed from this incident.” He sighed and tossed a pointed glance back at Angela. “Though, we wouldn't turn down getting a copy of the photo you have of the letter. Any bit helps.”

  Angela had to simultaneously hold in a sigh and bite back a snarky comment, and was only half successful at both, with a sarcastic grumble under her breath being the end result. All the same, she took down the other detective's phone number and sent him the picture that she snapped; if it helped out their case even a little, she could handle some small level of annoyance from the detectives.

  “All the same,” the detective that received her picture piped up, tucking his phone away and clearing his throat, “there are a few more questions that we have for you, Mr. Westley, and we'd like to go over them with you…” his gaze flicked over to Angela. “In private, of course.

  Something in the pit of Angela's stomach tangled itself in knots at the tone in the detective's voice. Maybe it was because she didn't get to talk to David about what had happened and what she had found out before, but the way that the detectives were looking grimly at David made her far more uneasy than she had expected it to make her feel.

  “Of course,” David said pleasantly enough, but Angela could pick up on the irritated edge to his voice, thin and sharp as the point of a sword. “Just allow me to ensure that my assistant can get home, and I'll be happy to answer any of your questions.”

  The detectives mulled it over before the sterner of the two nodded his head.

  “Yeah, that's more than fair,” he grumbled, but David was already placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her away from the detectives, down the hall toward the elevator.

  “I know that you still need answers,” he said softly when they were out of earshot of the detectives in his office. “And I swear, I'll answer them all for you tonight,” he sighed and pulled out his cell phone to dial his driver. “I'll have a car take you home for now. When I'm done, I’ll send someone to pick you up and take you to my house, so that we can talk about everything, alright?”

  “I can drive to your house from mine,” she countered before he could press the call button. “I know I may not be as well off as you, so this may come across as a shock, but,” she grinned wryly, “I have a car, and I am, in fact, capable of driving.”

  He chuckled deeply.

  “Alright, alright, I'll call you when I'm done here, and we'll meet at my house.” She nodded, and he called Charles to be ready to take her home. The conversation was short, and he was soon tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Charles will be waiting for you in the parking lot. Hopefully, this doesn't take too long. I've had it up to here with these fucking detectives,” he grumbled, clearly agitated with the whole situation. The sight was hard not to laugh at, but Angela managed it all the same.

  “It's not like I'll be going to sleep any time soon, anyway,” she giggled but kissed his cheek as she turned and began to make her way out to the garage, her heart in chaos all over again.

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes after leaving David's office found Angela in her kitchen, idly sipping a mug of tea and staring at her cell phone on her counter top, as if willing it to go off and let her know that David was
on his way home and she would finally get some closure on the whole matter. She had an entire pot of tea waiting beside her, keeping her company as she waited for the text message that would set in motion the beginning of the end of it all, one way or another.

  Kaitlyn was sound asleep on the couch again, apparently having been kept awake until late working on her laptop again. Angela's heart went out to her, and when she saw her dozing deeply on the couch cushions, she covered her with a blanket, saved her work, and powered her laptop down for her, knowing that she had worked herself too hard again.

  It was something that she was all too familiar with, and something that she knew her friend still suffered from, in spite of the fact that work conditions over at the Planetary Bugle greatly improved since coming under the Westley Entertainment umbrella. It was a grind that Angela herself didn't miss doing, and knew that it would just take time for Kaitlyn to get herself out of the routine of bringing her work home and grinding herself to the bone, burning the midnight oil for one measly article at a time.

  Even as she sat in the kitchen on a stool and sipped on her tea, she could hear her friend snoring lightly in the living room, and some part of her felt incredibly jealous of her; it would have been awful nice to just turn her brain off for a little while and take a nap while she waited for David to let her know that he was finished with the detectives and they could meet up. Then at least she could attempt to work out what she was feeling, bounce her questions off of David and attempt to divine answers from what he told her. He said that he would tell her everything, and she was certainly hoping that he wasn't going to hold back tonight, not when she had been in the dark for so long.

  It was hard not to scream in frustration and rip out her hair in anger at it all. She felt like she had half-truths and partial answers in her grasp, but none of them were connecting, and the fact that she was close enough to taste the full story was making her journalist intuition positively scream in her mind. She demanded clarity, she wanted the curtain pulled away and the villain revealed. At this point, the danger that she was in was entirely too serious for how little she actually knew. She just wanted to at least have her level of knowledge match up with how much danger she was in. Then, it might almost feel like it was worth all the trouble.