by Dee Palmer
“You hurt me all the time Jason. I like it, remember?” I can’t hide the hurt and humiliation. My words are fired with a snarl, my tone harsh and hateful. He doesn’t flinch and steps flush against my heaving body, adrenalin and desire still coursing through me despite his shut down.
“This is different, and you know it.” He speaks calmly. His position resolute. “I want to try this. I get it, I do, but this could get very rough, and I’m not prepared to risk my baby.” Shit now I feel worse. I deflate in his arms. What’s wrong with me? He pulls me into his warm embrace, and I crumple in his arms.
“I didn’t think…I just…” I falter, my guilt wrestling with my shame, rendering me speechless.
“That’s what I’m here for. We’re in this together, Sam, and I wasn’t thinking either, or I wouldn’t have started. This wasn’t exactly covered on your ‘list’ at the doctor’s, nevertheless I’m pretty sure he would’ve said no.” He brushes the fallen hair from my face. His fingers sweep my cheek, and he holds my face so he is gazing unobstructed into my eyes. “You’re strong, Sam, but really, you don’t stand a chance against me.”
“Oh is that so? We’ll see about that.” I let out a light laugh at his wry smile. His teasing tone is enough to bring me back to my senses without a shred of blame.
“In about nine months.” He waggles his brows playfully, and I let my head drop onto his chest and smile against his warm skin.
“In seven months and a bit,” I mutter. My breath catches at the depth of love in his gaze. He bends and scoops me into his arms, turns and walks back across the room, and unceremoniously dumps me onto the bed.
“We will rain check that new game, but for now, I’m going to go old school and just fuck your brains out.” His voice is low and sensual. The bed dips as he stalks up my body. His eyes are filled with such desire and adoration, any trace of rejection is obliterated with that completely covetous look scorching my skin as it travels the length of my reclining body.
“I like the sound of that.” I sigh, letting my eyelids flutter close at his filthy promise.
“Not sure all the other guests will share your view though Sam, so maybe keep the screaming down.”
“I thought you liked it when I screamed your name.” I suck my bottom lip in and let my most wicked grin plaster my face.
“I do.” He hesitates and his expression is troubled; it takes a moment to sink in.
“Your mum…don’t tell me she’s a light sleeper?” I get a nervous knot in my stomach, and I wonder if his mother is actually the queen of bloody England. I really wish I had met her before because this pedestal her boys have placed her on makes my neck strain.
“She wouldn’t have to be a light sleeper, Sam, you scream like a banshee.” He settles, kneeling between my legs. His heavy cock in his hand, resting the tip at the apex of my thighs, before tapping a hypnotic rhythm.
“Fine, I won’t scream.” My mouth waters at the sight.
“I could gag you.”
I smile sweetly. “You could try,” I purr.
“Sam.” He punctuates his stern address with a firm tweak of my nipple. I gasp when he gives me no warning then slams his full length inside me. Shit! I cry out in my head and mumble behind tight pinched lips. He pulls right out and slams back in, harder. He groans and closes his eyes briefly, only to sear through me when he opens them. Oh God, I’m in trouble. I swallow back a strangled squeak at the utter pleasure that saturates my body with each thrust. He angles himself to gain maximum traction and hits the very end of me with the next thrust. The agony is pure ecstasy, and he is far from going easy.
“I thought you said something about not hurting me.” I gasp again on his unchecked downstroke.
“Resistance fucking and rough fucking are completely different, and I do believe we got the all clear from the good doctor regarding a little of the rough fucking.” His hips drive forward pushing deeper and moving us both up the bed. He pulls out again, this slow steady pace is driving me insane. Fuck, it feels oh so good. “Hmm wait…that’s not exactly true is it?’” He ponders whilst giving me a delicious deep roll and grind of his hips. I think I should’ve opted for the gag. He pulls completely out, and with stealth and strength, flips me on to my front, hauling my hips up and back. One hand strikes my bottom cheek and the other olds his cock against my slickness, ominously moving slowly up and down, up and down, gathering moisture. I shudder. “Oh good, you remember what else the good doctor gave the all clear for.”
He pushes hard against my tight entrance and I push back, because as much as it hurts—my muscles fight the intrusion—it hurts far fucking less if I relax and enjoy. And I really do enjoy. A deep throaty groan rumbles from his chest, and he hisses when I force myself back as he surges forward.
“Holy fucking shit, you’re tight,” he grunts.
“Holy fucking shit, you’re enormous,” I pant. A flush of heat prickles my skin, and I see dark dots when I open my eyes. His hands leave my hips, and he reaches to hold my shoulders, he leans over and presses a tender kiss between my shoulder blades.
“You ready, beautiful?” Sweet kisses trail my spine with each word.
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?” I twist my head to look over my shoulder. He lifts his head at the movement, and a sexy, nefarious smile lights his face.
“Since this is rough anal, I’m going to say no, it really wouldn’t.” His tone is light and casual. He resumes planting tender kisses, and I can feel his lips curve in a smile against my skin. Then they are gone.
“Ah!” I cry out then snap my mouth tight at the noise. His sudden pounding has pushed the sound right from my lungs before I can stop it. I brace myself for the next time, because he wasn’t lying, this is rough, brutal, and glorious. His hips slap furiously against my bottom as he all but tears through me, so fucking deep I struggle to breathe. The wild passion I felt briefly from our halted play earlier, returns with equal fervour, and my whole body thrums to his relentless rhythm. My breaths are rapid, and my skin is slick under his firm grip, as he uses my own body for leverage to thrust and pound, chasing his own pleasure and mine. He drags one hand down my spine and sweeps it around the front of my body. Eager fingers hunt for my tingling nub of nerves, and I buck in his hand when he strikes gold.
“I’m going to come, Jason. Please.” My body starts to tremble, and my chest aches from panting so hard.
“Wait for me.” I whimper at his words and grit my teeth because I don’t think I have that kind of strength of will. His fingers slide along my folds, up and around my clit in time with his pounding from behind, the pressure perfect, and I rock against his hand. It’s too much, my muscles clamp down, and I shake my head at the futility of trying to hold the floodgates.
“Sorry,” I cry out, the flash of guilt replaced by hungry muscles contracting and squeezing every bit of pleasure from this immense orgasm wracking my body. My arms give out, and my head drops to the pillow. I’m a hot, sweaty mess, and now I’m being crushed to death by the sexiest man alive as Jason collapses on top of me.
“Mmm.” My breathy moan is released when he quickly rolls to my side and pulls me against his hot, heaving body. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” His body moves so it perfectly aligns with mine. Big spoon.
“I couldn’t hold on for you.” I pant trying to regain my breath, and he lets out a raspy laugh like he’s struggling for breath too.
“I noticed, don’t sweat it, I caught up just fine.” He kisses my hair, and his hot breath warms my face.
“You did?”
“You were a little out of it so you might’ve missed me.”
“Oh good.” I yawn and snuggle back into his hold, relishing his warmth and love. We lie like that for long blissful minutes when I turn in his arms. “You really shouldn’t be here. It’s supposed to be bad luck.”
“Think we’ve had our share of bad luck for a lifetime, don’t you?”
“I really do, so let’s no tempt fate.” I pinch h
is nipple and shove him playfully. He takes the hint and rolls out of the bed. He looks at his watch. It is still very much night-time.
“You will be my wife in less than twelve hours, I think fate’s had its chance.” I close my eyes as if that will make me not hear his boastful comment.
“Oh wow, you just had to say it!” I roll my eyes and drop my head in my hands with disbelief.
“Since when did you become superstitious?” He chuckles, slipping his boxer briefs back on.
“Since you started saying stupid things. Now go…go and pray, or find a black cat, or something to undo your taunt.” He flashes me a wide smile and leans down to kiss my forehead, ruffling my hair as he does,
“You’re adorable when you fret. Talking of fretting, did you open the letter from the clinic?”
“What letter?” I sit upright and suddenly very awake for the late hour.
“The one I left…” He looks around the darkened room and then turns and walks over to the dresser. He picks up something flat and walks back to me. “This letter.” He hands me the envelope I hadn’t noticed last night and switches on the bedside lamp.
I sit up and carefully tear the envelope. I don’t bother to read the letter, more apologies no doubt. The slippery shiny photo I hold in my hand is the most precious prize. The grainy image is rubbish if I’m honest. It does, however reveal, the semicircle curve of a tiny spine is as clear as day.
“This is my baby?” Jason sits beside me, staring at the image. He takes the picture and squints.
“Our baby.” I correct, my face beaming.
“I know, all the same I’m pretty fucking relieved it’s mine.” He nudges me, and I can see the truth in his eyes. That makes two of us.
I wait for him to hand the picture back and smile to myself that he seems to take in every line and dot in with such interest. He hands it back and traces my jawline, then tips my chin, kissing me so softly. It takes my breath away and makes my heart ache.
“I love you, Sam. No matter what fate decides, I will always love you.” He places the picture on the bedside table and makes it to the door when I stop him.
“Jason, are we good?” I hate the sudden twist in my stomach but his words, which should warm my heart, do little to ease my rising anxiety.
“We’re perfect, beautiful. See you at the altar. Don’t be late.” His heart-stopping smile spreads wide across his face, then his eyes warm and crinkle with joy. It should ease my mind yet, I find all the disquiet I felt, if only for a moment—yeah that’s all still right there, festering in my stomach—waiting for the fates to come and play.
“Nooo…” I groan and quickly pull the covers over my head to soften the glare from the sudden burst of bright sunlight.
“What do you mean no?” I can hear Sofia pull more curtains open. “I hardly slept a wink the night before my wedding. I had to sneak in with Bethany just to get some sort of rest.” She stomps around the room, and from the brightness filtering through my tightly squeezed lids, she must have already opened all the damn curtains and possibly erected a search and rescue spotlight and aimed it directly at me for good measure. “I left you as long as possible, but we’ve got the spa appointments in twenty minutes.” She paces heavily across the room, her singsong voice irritatingly cheerful. Even on my wedding day, I’m not a morning person, and I grip the sheet a little tighter. She sounds like a bloody elephant not a young woman barely filling a size ten, and she is puffing like she’s run a marathon. I still haven’t surfaced.
Huffing loudly, she then falls silent. My curiosity has me peeking over the edge of the covers, squinting at the light. She has her arms folded and is trying to look stern. Her smile, however, is too wide to hide the abundant excitement, which radiates from her and hits me full force like the sunlight beaming through the full bay window. She’s got me.
I grin and throw the cover back in a dramatic billow of material. I need to push the nerves aside and enjoy today. I get to marry the most amazing man, carry his baby, and I’ll be surrounded by the very best of friends. How fucking lucky am I? I shiver at the morning chill and quickly slip on Jason’s t-shirt that he must have left last night, physical evidence that last night wasn’t a dream. It so felt like a dream.
“Okay, give me five minutes to grab a quick shower,” I call to Sofia as I scurry to the en suite.
“I’ll make us some coffee. We’ll grab something to eat at the spa. They have an amazing restaurant,” she shouts after me.
“Oh okay. Just mint tea for me, please.” I poke my head round the bathroom door and she gives a kind, knowing smile and salutes her finger in understanding.
Ten minutes later, I emerge clean, fresh, and unbelievably excited. Sofia is sitting on the bed with the scan photo of my baby in her hand. The two cups of tea are untouched on the side. She turns to me with a strange frown and a flash of worry in her eyes. I’m instantly at her side, looking for what she sees that I must have missed.
“What?” I snap in a panic. “What is it? What’s wrong?’” I take the photo. It’s exactly the same grainy picture I saw for the first time late last night.
“Nothing, sweetie.” Her voice is rushed but calm. “Nothing is wrong. Sorry, I just wondered something because you said you were only a few weeks pregnant.”
“Yes, that’s right. Why?”
“Well, there’s no date on this picture. They usually have dates and weeks on the bottom here.” She points to the blurred line of print at the bottom.
“They had trouble with the printer, maybe it still wasn’t working properly. But the baby…the baby looks all right? I’ve never really seen one of these pictures I—” My voice breaks and she interrupts.
“No, sweetie, the picture is fine. I’ve seen a few, and this is a good one. A very good one, I mean, for a month or so. I was surprised because this is very detailed. Look, you can see the head, nose, round tummy.” She sweeps her finger and it’s like a great unveiling as the grainy image comes to life before me as she points things out that look so obvious now that she has. “Even the legs have little toes.” The curl of her lips stops before her full smile covers her face once her eyes meet mine.
I feel my stomach drop and a cold sweat instantly coats my body.
I grab the letter from the bedside table.
The one I didn’t bother to read last night. I silently take in the information that is slowly confirming my worst nightmare. I drop the letter and rush to the bathroom, slamming the door wide. I crash down on to the toilet just in time to empty the pitiful contents of my stomach. I can’t move. I’m frozen to the cold tile floor, shaking. This can’t be happening. I feel the gentle warm hands sweep sweat soaked hair from my face. After a several painful, endless minutes, I pull myself up only to collapse back against the bath with my head in my hands.
“So you’re more like twelve weeks. You look bloody amazing for twelve weeks.” Sofia shuffles to sit beside me. She nudges me, and her voice is light and holds no real concern…yet. “The clinic letter said you gave them the wrong dates that’s why there was some confusion.” She moves again to crouch on her haunches in front of me, her sweet face assessing the state before her. She stands and runs some water before dropping once more to the floor and tries to hand me a cool cloth. When I make no move to take it, she starts to pat my face, the soft coolness is a balm for my skin which seems to alternate between the extremes of an icy chill and spiked heat prickles with every passing minute.
“I gave them the dates I was given when I found out. The dates they gave me when I was in hospital after my accident.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, lifeless, hollow and in total shock.
“It explains the boobs.” She tries to make light, and I feel the first tear.
“What am I going to do?” I mouth the words, and they can only be heard because Sofia leans in at the first hushed croak of my voice.
“I don’t understand, sweetie? You’re a little more pregnant that you thought. It’s not really that much of a big deal.
Jason knows you’re pregnant. You’re still getting married.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head yet she heard that whisper loud and clear, judging by her stunned tone.
“What, now?”
I look up into her eyes and hold her gaze. “Sofia, I don’t know who the father is?”
“What the what now?” Her laugh is forced and has a touch of hysteria. I close my eyes but the tears fall anyway, soaking my cheeks. I pull my knees up and drop my head, the large bath towel absorbing the tears as quickly as they fall.
“Oh God, he doesn’t want this.” I mumble and sob, the tears won’t stop and the pain ripping through me is unbearable. “He doesn’t want a baby like this. I know he doesn’t. I have to tell him. He has to know the truth.”
“Sam, you’re not making any sense. Darling, please, I don’t understand.” Her calm voice is trying to soothe, but her next words hold an edge of accusation. “You cheated on Jason?”
“No! God, no.” My eyes snap wide with the horror of that suggestion, and I slap my hand to my mouth, shaking my head and that thought from my mind. Never.
“So Jason is the father?”
“He might be.” I draw in a deep breath and watch as Sofia does the same. She waits, and I swallow thickly before I slowly exhale and clarify. “But then so might be his brother Will, …and Leon.”
“Oh.” I hear her gasp and gulp before silence descends like a bomb blanket, only this one has failed to shield me from the blast, this one has me contained underneath, surrounded by the debris and devastation.
A loud clap echoes off the poor acoustics in the white tiled room, and I look over to Sofia who has her hands clasped.
“He’s still going to marry you,” she states as a matter of fact. “He loves you and this is obviously something you did together, so he isn’t going to shy away from it, Sam. He’s not that kind of guy, is he?”