by Jordan Marie
Michael doesn’t appreciate me telling him that his hair is beautiful. I can tell by the way he grunts. I’ve wanted to trim his hair and beard forever, selfishly wanting to see more of his face and those lips of his that feel so amazing when he kisses me. I want to be able to see if he smiles, if he frowns, or if he bites his lip. I’ve even dreamed of it, not that I would tell him that.
I’m trying to concentrate on cutting his hair and not how incredibly awkward it feels to be in nothing but shorts and a bra, with my pregnant stomach in front of his face. I’ve already trimmed his hair a lot, although if I’m honest I hurt every time, just because with hair this beautiful it seems like a sin to watch it fall away. The upside is I can see more of his face. I thought he was handsome before. I was wrong. He’s beautiful. Completely and utterly beautiful.
He has these strong angles on his face that are completely masculine and even a little harsh. His forehead is wide, manly, and there’s this little scar on it the size of a pea. Along the left side of his face the scars clearly cover a larger area than I suspected, because of the way he always had his hair covering that side. They’re grim against his soft skin. On one end, they disappear into his beard, and the other they rise above his cheeks and then fade into the hair at his temple. I feel his tension increase as I softly touch them, following their lines.
For once, I don’t have to guess at his thoughts. I know because I’ve experienced them. I keep my scars hidden, at least the outside ones. Is that why he kept his hair so long? His beard unkempt? Does he think they are as ghastly as I think mine are? Mine are nothing in comparison to his, but the ugliness behind mine taints everything. I can feel his body grow tighter just from the soft glide of my finger against his face. Before he can pull away completely, I find myself bending down to place a kiss along the scar, right at the top. His hands come up and grasp my hips. Their hold is painful from his fingers biting into my flesh.
Before I can question myself, I leave another kiss, followed by another one. Kissing along the jagged line they trail. I feel his body shudder and instead of pushing me away he pulls me. I quickly adjust so that I’m straddling his lap when he sits me down. His forehead presses against mine and I can’t stop my eyes from closing.
“You’re killing me,” he says, in that gruff voice that vibrates so deep I can feel it in my center.
If I wasn’t already wet, that would more than do it. As it is, my breaths are labored as if I’ve been walking for miles, not merely being held by Michael. The scissors fall to the ground. I hear them drop against the old plank flooring. I’m glad because now I can bury my fingers in his hair. I feel his hands shove up my legs, underneath the fabric of my shorts. I have panties on, but he has to feel the way his touch makes me quake, and God I’m so hot. When he touches me, I feel like I’m on fire.
“Michael,” I whimper, not sure what to do.
Michael doesn’t have that problem. He reaches up and pushes my bra out of the way. Freeing only one of my breasts, the other remaining in the twisted fabric. Cool air hits my nipple, and I moan as a second later his mouth captures it, greedily sucking it into his mouth. He keeps his mouth there, sucking and pressing the nipple to the roof of his mouth, then teasing it with his tongue. At the same time his hand comes back down. He moves to my hips where he pulls me in closer and grinds me against his hard erection.
Sometime last night he changed from his jeans into cotton jogging pants. I liked them. I appreciated them. They hung low on his hips and he totally rocked them. He was mouthwatering and very warm when he snuggled against me. Right now, I appreciate them for a completely different reason. They’re soft and stretchy over the rigid outline of his hard cock, allowing it to press against my center at just the right angle. It pushes against my pussy hitting my clit when he pulls me down. My body trembles as desire shoots through me.
“Ride me, Hayden. Ride me,” he urges around my breast, before his hands palm my ass and his fingers bite into my skin. “Fuck baby, ride me.”
63
Beast
I look up and watch Hayden’s face as she curled over the top of me. Her head is thrown back, her eyes are closed and her body is alive with pleasure. Pleasure I’m giving her. Pleasure she’s getting just from riding against the hard ridge of my cock. I should stop this. It’s madness for a lot of reasons, most importantly, if it keeps up I’m going to come in my damn pants like a horny kid watching his first porno. The problem is, this isn’t some damn movie. This is Hayden and she’s beautiful. Even through our clothes I can feel the heat of her pussy, I feel the way she greedily moves so my cock pushes against her in all the right places, and I don’t want her to stop. I want her to come. Just. Like. This. Using me to get what she wants. I want to give her exactly what her sweet pussy wants—pleasure. Pleasure only I can give her.
“Michael,” she gasps, sounding desperate.
“I’m right here,” I growl, feeling heat run up my back. It’s been so long I’ve almost forgotten the feeling, but I know I’m getting ready to come. Fuck.
“I need,” she cries brokenly, her body riding me harder and faster, but I can tell she’s not there. Her body is searching too desperately for something…
“Tell me what you need, Beauty. Tell me and I’ll give it to you,” I vow, knowing in this moment I’d move heaven or earth to give her whatever she asks for.
“More,” she sobs, frantically. "I can’t get…Michael,” she ends in a whimper, sounding unsure. I’m torn listening to her. I know what she needs-what we both do. I don’t know why I’m denying myself really. I want inside of her so much I can taste it. I’ve resisted because I don’t know what her history is, but there’s something there. I thought she might have been abused. The panic attacks indicate that, and yet her response to me is completely different. It’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery. The mystery being why, when nothing else has for seven years, Hayden makes me…want. “Michael,” she calls again, bringing my attention back to her. I react on instinct.
I wrap my hand into her long hair and pull her head down to me. My hold is tight, and I know it brings a slice of pain to her from the way she cries. I should be gentle with her, but I’m not gentle. I’ve never been that way much, and I really don’t have it in me now. I bring my hand to the breast I’ve uncovered, capturing the swollen nipple and pinching it with my fingers. She jerks, but the grip I have on her hair keeps her from moving too far.
“You’re going to come for me, Beauty,” I growl into her ear, letting my teeth clamp down on the lobe, and my tongue slip along the shell. “You’re going to ride my cock and make us both come.”
“Oh God, Michael…”
“I’m so close, Hayden. You have my cock so hard right now with the way you’re riding me. You’re going to make me fucking come all over myself,” I whisper to her, my tongue pushing in her ear, to tease her along with my words. Her body quakes on top of me and she grinds against me. “You like that don’t you, sweetheart. You like the idea that you could make my cock explode and leave him covered in his own come just by moving your sweet little body back and forth. You like knowing you have my body at your mercy. Don’t you?”
“Yes!” she cries loudly, her nails are biting into my shoulders so hard, she’s drawing blood. And I like it. I like everything that’s fucking happening right now.
“Are you coming for me, Beauty. Is that sweet little pussy coming all for me?” I growl, yanking a little harder on her hair, bending her head back to expose her neck. I run my tongue along her neck. I can feel her pulse beating hard. I bite the skin, too far gone to know if I’m bruising her skin, and mostly hoping like hell I am. The idea fires up inside of me, and I bite into the base of her shoulder and neck harder. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m being too rough now. The bite is going to mark her, and I want it to. I want everyone to see it.
Hayden cries out my name, her body undulating on top of me, stops all at once. I look up and that’s when I see it. The exact moment her orgasm hits and
then takes over. I push on her head to bring her face down. Her eyes are wide, the silver-gray color deep and glistening. Those thick lips are open. Her breath is ragged and comes out in small puffs. And then her body lurches, as a cry is torn from her. It’s not a word, just a cry of release before she quakes with her climax.
My hands release her from the hold I have, only to grab her ass and glide her against my cock, thrusting against her as I forget everything, but the need to come with her. I explode, my cum jetting out in the first release that I’ve had in years. I come so hard that it’s physically painful and my cry mingles with hers. Eventually my body stops jerking, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me. My head rests against the swollen mound of her stomach and that’s when it hits me.
Instant regret.
64
Hayden
I bury my head in Michael’s shoulder. My body is still vibrating with pleasure. I can’t believe I allowed this to happen, again. What makes it worse is that I already want more. It might not be smart, nor even particularly safe, but Michael is different from any other man who has been in my life. He’s taken care of me, he’s gentle with me, and he makes me feel beautiful. He even seems to want me…even if I am pregnant. That’s weird to me, but I’m tired of second guessing and questioning everything. What we just shared, that was good—more than good. It was special.
Michael’s seen my weaknesses and he doesn’t mock them. He doesn’t use them against me. Again, it boils down to darkness. I’ve seen darkness inside of men, I’ve experienced it and Michael isn’t tainted with that. So, I lean into him and cherish being held by him, letting a few of the guards I keep up, slip. Which sucks because it leaves me totally unprepared for Michael’s next words.
“That shouldn’t have happened.” My body goes completely solid and tense when I hear him.
Those words aren’t what I expected. Nowhere close. I don’t know how to react to them, except that straddling his lap with my face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent definitely seems wrong now. I go to move off him, but he doesn’t let me. He keeps his hold on my body tight, not even letting me pull away. “That’s got to quit happening, Hayden,” he says, and his words wound me and piss me off at the same time.
I concentrate on the anger, that’s a better emotion to embrace than the hurt. I jerk, trying to pull away but again, he doesn’t let me.
“Let me up,” I tell him, pushing on his shoulders to get space between us.
“I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he tells me, and I hate that my body reacts to that sentence. I hate that his graveled voice rakes along every exposed nerve point I have, which is already raw from my climax. I hate it even while I can’t hide the way my body hums with the pleasure. The deep tone of his voice should be classified as a sexual weapon. It’s that potent. Damn him.
“I want up,” I insist, kind of lying, but mostly not.
“Why?” he asks, and he has the gall to sound confused.
“You just said you didn’t want what we did to happen again. Those aren’t words that makes me want to stay straddled on your lap.”
“I…”
“And honestly, it pisses me off, because you started it!”
“I started it?” he asks, and I can hear the shock in his voice.
“Yes! So, you don’t get to act all…” I can’t think of the words, so instead I snarl unintelligibly at him, pushing hard against his body, because I definitely want up now.
He lets me up, and I need something to do, so I grab a broom and start sweeping up the hair that I cut. When the broom finds the scissors and comb that I must have dropped when I kissed him, I really want to kick myself. I bend down to pick them up and in my anger, move too quickly and the room starts spinning. I nearly topple over, but Michael grabs me and keeps it from happening.
“Will you be careful!?” he growls, picking me up in his arms.
I drop the broom in surprise. I don’t respond, because I’m busy fighting a wave of nausea. Probably from being picked up like a sack of potatoes.
“This is what I’m talking about. You’re pregnant. We have no business doing what we’re doing. You’ve got to have more control!”
I’ve got to have more control?
“Me?” I screech. “You were the one who…who…”
“Who what?” he asks, finally lowering me onto the bed. I get up immediately, the room only marginally sways, so I brace myself by holding onto the headboard. Michael must see me stagger a little cause he growls, making a sound like a bear and adds, “I told you to be careful!”
“I’m fine, just mad! And you know what you did. You touched me…there,” I accuse him, sounding like I might be three.
“You liked it when I touched you there. I should get a medal for touching you there and not fucking you like I wanted!” he growls back and his words take my breath away. They do it for several reasons, but the only one my brain wants to focus on is that he wanted to sleep with me…okay no. He wanted to fuck me, which in my limited experience isn’t that special for a man, but the fact that he wanted to, and yet didn’t…
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, and even as I ask, I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I’m worried he didn’t because I wasn’t good enough.
“You should…why?” he asks, and his face shows clear shock, as if I should already know the answer.
“Never mind. We can just call it a day. You can go back to your place and…”
“You’re pregnant,” he interrupts me, and I feel myself blush.
I can feel the heat rise, and I kind of wish the floor would swallow me up. My hand goes to my stomach. I might be embarrassed, but I don’t regret Maggie. Even with everything that has happened, I’ve never once blamed Maggie. She didn’t ask to be brought into this world and she can’t help that her father is the spawn of Satan. I pray she’ll never know exactly who or what he is. I pray for that every day. Every. Day.
“It’s not like I’ve hidden that, Michael. I wouldn’t try, even if I could. I even reminded you of that when you took my shirt off. I really think it might be best if you just leave. I’m suddenly really tired.”
“Why would I want you to hide that you’re pregnant?”
“It obviously bothers you,” I tell him, needing out of the bedroom. I go to walk around him to go back to the kitchen when he grabs me by the upper arm. His touch is warm and feels so good. I ignore that feeling. I need him to leave—I need to get some distance here.
“Did it seem like it bothered me when you were riding my cock?”
“It’s obviously bothering you now,” I tell him, avoiding his eyes and wishing I could call him a liar.
“The hell it is. I think it’s fucking hot.”
“You think it’s hot I’m pregnant?” I ask, my body filled with heat and I don’t know if it’s from mortification, desire, or fear…It could be all three.
“Fuck, yes. You’re beautiful pregnant. I told you that already. Your breasts are full, the curve of your stomach, the softness you get in your eyes when you think of your daughter, and the way you hold your stomach without even realizing you’re doing it. It’s a fucking turn on,” Michael answers, and I’m at a loss on how to respond to that.
“Then why did you say we had to stop?” I ask, totally ignoring the fact that he thinks I’m hot because I’m pregnant. I’ll have to think about that later.
“I don’t know what’s gone on with you Hayden, but I know something has. I know the Dweller’s enough to know that whatever it is, has to be bad, and I’ve seen your damn panic attacks. The last thing you need is me making demands of you that you aren’t ready for.”
There’s a lot I should say—a lot I could say to him. Not to mention the fact that bringing up the Dwellers should jerk me back to reality enough that I do not say what I’m thinking. It should stop me cold. It doesn’t.
“What demands?” I ask, unable to stop myself, wondering why it feels like I’m on the edge of a cliff getting ready to jump.
65
Beast
Will Hayden ever do what I expect of her? I’m starting to think the answer to that is definitely no. Because whatever I expected from her just now it wasn’t her standing in front of me asking what demands, sounding interested, sounding anxious, with her eyes wide with shock, and her fucking nipples hard. She fixed her bra before when I let her go, but I’m sure she’s forgotten that she’s doesn’t have a top on. The last thing I want to do is remind her, but there’s only so much torture a man can take.
“Put a shirt on,” I grumble, adjusting my fucking cock through my sweatpants. This woman is driving me nuts. I just came and I’m already hard again. Hard and in need of a damned shower, because she made me fucking come in my pants.
I watch as her blush deepens. She walks carefully over to her dresser and pulls out a gray t-shirt, pulling it over her head and hiding her body from me. I’m grateful, but hate it at the same time. The woman is driving me crazy mad.
“Your hot and cold makes me dizzy,” she grumbles under her breath, but I can hear her plainly. If she wasn’t pregnant, I’d be tempted to show her what happens when you back talk a real man. “Better?” she huffs, turning around to look at me. Her hair is rumpled from the way I held it earlier and from her putting on a shirt. Her face is blushed with a pink hue and her eyes are still glittering with emotion.
I want her naked. Naked, laid out in front of me, and I want to use her fucking body until I stop aching, until the rage inside of me lessens and most of all until my damned cock is limp.
“Not by a long shot,” I answer, instead of giving her the full truth. It’s time I steer this conversation in a different direction, before my handprint is on her ass, and I forget I need to handle her with care. “How are you like this with me?” I ask instead.