They Got Her Pregnant!

by Sasha Medly

  Roland woke up to the sweet sensation of a warm mouth on his dick “Lenora please” he begged but she deepthroated him again. He forced his eyes opened and gasped at the sight before him Lenora had his whole dick down her throat and he knew his size that was no easy feat. His toes curled in just the right way as he grabbed hold of the sheets she really knew what she was doing “enough!” He growled pulling her up so that she straddled him with one hard thrust he was inside her and she was throwing her head back in pleasure slowly he ran his hand from her waist and ran his hand up her stomach up to her breasts and seized them in his hands massaging them and pulling her nipples between his fingers she kissed him biting at his lips he grabbed at her ass smacking her gently and massaging her butt cheeks. As their love making continued he became lost in her more and more craving her body against his. When they both climaxed it was mind blowing they lay there lost and spent “how about we go for a picnic today” he asked her as the haze started to clear from her eyes “don’t you have work?” she replied “it can wait” he responded “come on I’ll have a basket packed” within an hour they were out the front door and heading toward the car when they stepped out there were two black SUVs parked outside the second they stepped out the back door of one opened and a man stepped out “no” Lenora exclaimed that was all Roland needed to know who exactly this was he picked up his phone and dialed a number “hey get close like I told you I might need you” he said and hang up “it’s fine” he said to Lenora “he can’t hurt you, not while I am here.” Roland watched as the man walked toward them he could see the arrogance on his face there was very little chance of this ending peacefully “I am happy you have found my dear Lenny” he said fixing a smile on to his face “I am here to collect her” Roland took note of how he spoke of her like she was a peace of property to be owned. Lenora moved behind Roland as the man grew closer she clung to his shirt she was shaking “I didn’t know she belonged to you” Roland spoke up “who are you exactly?” The man chuckled a boastful laugh “I’m sure the name Hensley Hennessy must have reached your ears every now and then” Roland shook his head “yes I have heard of you” Roland answered “but I have no grouse with you. Lenora here is here on her own free will I wil not force her to leave nor let you take her unless she wants to go. So I’ll ask her” turning to Lenora he asked her “do you want to go with Mr. Hennessy?” Roland already knew the answer but he wanted to drive the point across “no” she answered “well that answered that” Roland said as he moved her further behind him and placed a protective arm around her. The man walked up to him “now listen” he said angrily “I will have her and you best stay out of her way” just then three SUVs swung up to the curb and there were men in dark suits everywhere “everything ok Mr. Deaten?” A man asked coming from behind the house it was Charles and he was the head of Roland’s security team. “Whether or not there is a problem that depends on Mr. Hennessy here” Roland responded pinning him with a ice cold stare but Hensley Hennessy had already changed his tune “You’re Roland Deaten?” He asked astonished “but you’re so young. Trust me when I say you don’t need this gold digging wench.” Roland was really angry now “I would appreciate it if you would leave this instant Mr. Hennessy” he said “I’d rather keep the wench there is plenty of gold for her to dig here” slowly he backed away eyeing Lenora who has not moved from behind Roland “I must say you look remarkably well” He said to her “I suppose that beating did you well” this was the last straw Roland broke away from Lenora and ran at the man he sent a straight right flying to his jaw then backed it up up with a left to his gut Hensley fell to the ground “take this trash off my lawn” he yelled at the men who was without a doubt Henley’s security team they came forward and scooped him up. One man stayed behind “I’m sorry” he said “this man can be such a dirtbag but it’s a job and it has to be done” Roland watched as the vehicles drove off he was so angry he was shaking. When Lenora touched him he turned at her so quickly she was frightened he scooped her into his arms “I am sorry” he said hugging her close “I’d never hurt you” she smiled “I know” she answered “let’s go” she said taking his hand and leading him toward the car. He sat back and relax “are you ok?” She said taking his hand he entwined his fingers in hers “yes I am.” He answered because he truly was.

  The end

  Story

  One:

  They were finally desperate enough to match his price for the dramatic kill. If they had done so earlier, the problem would've been solved easily. That was what Brian Sokolov thought when the client in question approached him.

  Yes. Maria Belladonna might've been the top dog of the information underworld, but surely there would be a slip given that they wanted a kill. It all boiled down into a clear shot and the perfect timing. It would take effort and preparation, but the kill would happen. The death would be known, especially with her case.

  An heiress to a fashion superpower, a philanthropist, a published author and a chocolate lover. The world would definitely mourn her death while the riddance was a relief to his client. Who would've thought that it was a cliché setting that would dictate their ending.

  A fashion show for a good cause with a list of high profiled guests that it would've been a hunting ground for hitmen. But only the best would dare. That was why he was there. He waited in one of the buildings outside the sprawling mansion with a clear shot of the grand staircase and the ballroom. Brian was relaxed amid the excitement and the tension.

  Events like these with people like them would always have grand entrances and even grander speeches. He just had to wait. The party was already in its third hour. It wouldn't be long.

  "Oh, Mr. Sokolov." A singsong voice and soft footsteps broke through his focus. Every muscle in his body tensed and his hand moved automatically for his extra gun strapped around his hips. His body activated its fight or flight instinct and it took focus to return to calm. "Oh, Mr. Sokolov."

  He dropped his hand away from his gun and stood, facing the staircase. Waiting. Blood pounding. Breathing deep.

  What came up from the staircase was a vision of porcelain and crimson.

  He wouldn't lie. She had been on his radar for so long, but due to his personal code they never crossed paths. The way she came into his radar and stayed there was a surprise in itself. A sure start for his mind to turn her into an intriguing curiosity. Even in all his years in the business, he had never heard of her until that memorable moment of long ago. What made it more surprising back then was that he should've known, only to realize later on that she was really young and really good at her craft. The underworld only knew her by her code names. The small percentage that knew her true persona could never deny their admiration.

  "Greetings, Mr. Sokolov." She stood perfectly framed by the moonlight streaming in from the open window behind him. She was smiling, red lips and rosy cheeks. Her dark wavy hair a contrast against her bared shoulders. Crimson touched her like second skin. How it accented her breasts and hugged the swell of her hips only to flare down to the flo—no—not the floor. She held her skirts in one hand and thus he was given a sight of her bare legs and dainty bare feet.

  Zorja Vechernjaja. The Evening Star.

  His gaze snapped back to her face when the skirts dropped into its proper place. Was he embarrassed? Yes, but the way she smiled, felt like absolution.

  Shit.

  "If I knew how to reach you, I would've sent you an invitation." A straw basket was hooked in the crook of her arm, dangling by her hip. She pulled out a wineglass from said basket and moved closer, holding it out as an offering. "I apologize for not making my surveillance obvious."

  He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sway of her hips. "I am flattered to be spent effort and resources on. I am just one man."

  "Who is after my life." She stopped just an arm span away, the wineglass still offered. "Indulge me, Mr. Sokolov."

  He took the offering and watched as she pulled out the bottle of wine. In his mind, he was
wondering why he was letting this happen. His target before him, possibly unarmed, and offering him a drink while knowing his identity. He would blame his curiosity of her and his want to figure her out, because those were the only explanations he had. She pulled out a glass of her own and poured herself a drink.

  "Chocolate?"

  "I am a greater lover of chocolate than wine." She passed him the bottle and took a sip. He almost spilled some when she licked her lips with her eyes closed. He took a sip of his own and found it tasting like too much powdered chocolate drink. His surprise must've showed on his face because she chuckled.

  A comfortable silence reigned after. He watched her looking out the window through such reign. He followed the curl of her ear cuff and the line of her bared neck. Down and back to her blue eyes. Another deep breath. Another sip.

  "If you've been watching me, why come to me now?"

  She didn't move or bless him with her gaze, but she did answer. "The models of this fashion show are children and my only qualm is the fact that your client wanted my death dramatic and seen."

  "I am not the only threat."

  "But you're the only one that I could talk to." She took a deep breath.

  "What do you want me to do?" He watched the gates of the mansion and the guests still pouring in. "Let you live another day?"

  One of the guests started running for the mansion and a car coming into the gate exploded. It triggered two more explosions on different points of the place.

  Screams.

  Panic.

  Death.

  In a few moments, the night sky was colored a sheen of orange and the wide gardens became a battlefield in such a few minutes.

  "Help me." That made him look at her. Her face was calm but her hands were shaking.

  "Can you hold a gun?" It was an honest question and a worry. It would set his priority on either being her protector or her warrior. The way she snapped her gaze at him, with her face still holding a small smile, highlighted how her eyes turned to ice. An expression he was sure he would remember.

  "Yes." He believed her. He passed his extra gun and then shouldered his sniper.

  "Let's go." He would ponder the intricacies of this interaction later.

  The shouts were getting louder and the gunshots, closer. These, at the very least, were familiar.

  Two:

  Brian shouldn't be floored by what he just witnessed, but he was. Who wouldn't when a woman, barely reaching your shoulder, rush through a battlefield in a gown and point blank take down people in an admirable efficiency? Another reason was seeing that same woman drop the gun and rush in her home to ask about the children and families' safety. To see such quick transition from a ruthless warrior into a caretaker, was a first to him. He was shoved to being an observer the moment they were past her home's threshold.

  He wasn't complaining. She looked more human then, than the goddess he previously thought her to be. She was smothered by the children in hugs and questions. She calmed the panicked employees and talked with a lot of people about so many topics, while wearing an almost dilapidated dress. She still moved like it was anything except that. Soft touches, sincere words and gentle smiles were given and received with gratitude.

  There came a point that he felt unworthy of witnessing it, so he moved out of the room for the pondering he promised himself.

  Why? Answers to questions that started with such only resulted to more questions.

  "Mr. Sokolov." He didn't get that far into it. A deep breath. She looked as ragged, not only from the battle, but also from moving through guests and employees. "How are you?"

  "I should be asking you that." He couldn't help but smile at her concern. "How are you?"

  A shaky breath.

  "They'll be fine." He knew something was wrong by then. Her eyes were wide and her smile turned sharper. It made him reach out and hold her against him. "They'll be fine."

  She tried to move away but he didn't let her, and when she realized that, she broke down. She started with sniffles, and it broke his heart.

  It was then that he realized the answer to his intrigue.

  She was an in between, and by the heavens, he wanted to see how far she could carry on being an in between. He held her tighter and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

  "They'll be fine." He rubbed circles on her back. "Breathe, Maria. They'll be fine."

  He realized a plenty of loopholes that he needed to address but with her in his arms at this moment, he set them aside. What he couldn't ignore was that little seed of doubt.

  What would be the price of taking this risk of throwing away his known normalcy? Was he ready?

  "Thank you."

  He pulled back to look at her. Her tear stained face turned down as she wiped them clear. Definitely human. He held her chin and urged her to look at him. He needed her to look at him and make her see that he was willing to take this risk. When she did, he found peace in her eyes.

  "I'm staying, to protect you."

  Breathe.

  "I'm staying to protect you."

  Three:

  "He told me he will stay, but he flies off to somewhere at the smallest confirmable intel!" One, two, three, four, then spin. One, two, three, four, then spin. Repeat. "He's being reckless!"

  "Maria."

  "Yes. I understand that he needed to deal with that bastard and wipe him out." A growl. "But why? Why can't I help him? As if I don't have a network of assassins and spies myself!"

  "Please." A sigh. "Stop pacing."

  "And then. And then! He would come home only to ask for intel about another person and flies again! Was he mocking me just by asking for info just because I have them close at hand?"

  "Why do you care about him?"

  Pause.

  "Because I asked him to help me!" Maria whirled with her teeth bared, hissing. "I care!"

  A body reclined back. A pen twirling between two fingers. Another sigh. "He's not under your employ."

  "I know! You don't have to tell it to me. You didn't start under my employ as well Ramon! That doesn't mean I'm not worried."

  Another sigh.

  Ramon Valois was her best friend for many years, and there was a reason for that. Their experiences together broke and remade them into a singular unit in different matters. Emotions being one of them.

  "This is different." He stopped twirling the pen and placed it back to his desk. He cocked his head to the side, blond locks following the action and blue eyes clashing with kin. "I'm your tactician. I'm your co-founder. We had history of years. You just interacted with him, in actuality, three weeks ago."

  "Is there something wrong with that?"

  "Yes."

  Maria dropped to the nearest seat and groaned. If Monmon said something was wrong, it was worth the listen. Not only because they were best friends, but because of insight. "Do tell."

  "Delivery."

  Dramatic pause.

  "Inaction." He grinned. "You rant about this but what have you done? Nothing. You just gave him what he wanted and didn't even ask him why he was doing it."

  "………..He's not under my employ to ask him such questions."

  "Wrong."

  She glared. "Enlighten me then."

  The grin turned to a smirk. "You are intrigued of him."

  "Of course I do! He just decided to not kill me. Who knows what he's planning with the information I give him!"

  "Not the first." A blond brow raised. "Remember Ulysses, Annabella, Emeth, Anderson, Carlotta, and so many others? Most of our assassins changed to our side one way or another. You charmed them, for the lack of better term. What made him so different? What made you hold back surveillance to the minimum and rely to his honesty that your enemies are gone?"

  "I—I don't know."

  "You don't know, or you don't want to say?" Ramon returned to his work with a mere shrug. "Once you say it, it only makes its existence true."

  She groaned. The point was clear and simple, but it was a
matter of pride. And control. Oh, and rejection too. She covered her face with her hands and groaned again.

  Ramon had the audacity to snicker.

  "Damn you, Monmon."

  Four:

  "Brian?" It took Maria another week and another kill for him before she actually approached him about the matter. She had tumbled Ramon's questions in her head aplenty and found no other way than confrontation. It took everything to drop her fake nonchalance and show that something was wrong. "Brian?"

  Breathe, Maria.

  "Come in." It's amazing how she could be so tensed when he's staying under her roof. She entered his quarters in small steps and winced when the door snapping shut echoed within the room. A deep breath. She needed to take her time with this, even if it was for her sanity. "What is it?"

  His voice was ragged. The way his shoulders stooped and how his back curled forward only supported his situation. His pristine dark ensemble was disheveled, from his hair to the discarded shoes. He was working too hard and all she had given him was safety and her assistance. There was never any discussion of the details or rules. She wasn't ignorant to the fact that he might be doing this all for himself, but the advantages she gained could never be denied.