The Baby Mission

by Vivian Wood

  Cady whimpers as she watches me bow my head in preparation. Using two fingers to spread her wide, I run my tongue ever so gently over her sensitive clit.

  “Jesus! Jett…” she gasps. I like the sound of my name on her lips.

  “Mmm,” I say. “You taste like fucking honey.”

  Fuck, I’m so goddamn hard. There is some little part of me that protests the idea that she had to get drunk to have me, but I shove it down.

  Her entire body trembles with need. I run my tongue over her clit again, and she moans and buries her hands in my hair. She’s got a hair trigger, which I try to keep in mind as I trace the alphabet against her pussy.

  Moisture seeps from her pussy, but I haven’t even touched it yet. Cady gets louder and wetter as I feast on her, and my beard grows damp. She’s wound tight as a spring, on the verge of coming.

  I should stop. I should make her beg for it. I should, at the very least, be concerned about when I get my orgasm.

  But instead I slide one thick finger into her velvety core, pressing my mouth into her clit, and watch her explode all around me. I feel the tremors start in her center, watch her throw her head back and call my name.

  My cock throbs, insistent, but I just help Cady ride out her orgasm with my finger and mouth.

  When she slows down, I withdraw. Her cheeks are nice and dusty pink, just as I expected. When I straighten up, she kisses me, full on with tongue.

  I guess she’s not squeamish, then.

  Cady reaches for the button on my jeans, but I stop her, shaking my head.

  “No,” I say.

  “No?” she asks, still a little breathless.

  “No. The first time I have you, you won’t have half a bottle of wine in your system,” I say, pushing to my feet.

  She grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it down, frowning at me.

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “I didn’t say that. What I said was that you’ll be sober the first time I take you.” I reach down and caress her breast, pinching the sensitive nipple. “You want that, don’t you?”

  She gasps. “Y-yes…”

  I smirk, moving my hand up to trace her delicate collar bones.

  “You want me to come in you next time, no condom? You want me to fuck you with no barriers? Nothing but skin on skin?” I ask teasingly.

  Cady worries her bottom lip, turning pink. “You know I do.”

  I continue my slow exploration, slipping the thin linen strap off her shoulder. “Say it.”

  “What?” she asks, confused.

  “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Cady.”

  She blushes so red.

  “I… I want you to fuck me, without a condom. And I want you to come in me,” she whispers.

  “You want me to knock you up?” I ask, pulling one side of the top of her dress down in slow degrees until her breast is nearly bare.

  Her eyes widen. “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, I want you to…” she stops and swallows. “I want you to knock me up.”

  “Dirty girl,” I say, leaning down for a final kiss.

  I detach myself from her, wiping my beard on the sleeve of my shirt. There’s still a bit of residual moisture, but I don’t mind. I head toward the front door, picking up my coat.

  “Wait!” she calls.

  I glance back, holding back a smirk when I see how disarrayed she is. “Yeah?”

  “When will I see you again?” she asks, smoothing back her wild hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cat again, staring at me with the most chilling look in his eyes.

  Well, eye. He’s only got one. Either way, I’m petty sure he wants to kill me.

  I grin anyway. “Really soon, princess. Really soon.”

  And then I let myself out.

  Chapter Eight

  Cady

  It’s almost five, and I’m still hungover. Will I ever stop doing this myself?

  I’m sitting in my home office, facing a laptop and surrounded by case files. I woke up bright and early as usual, but my hangover has gotten progressively worse throughout the day. Ever since I turned thirty years old, this is a thing that’s been happening.

  I stare at my laptop for a few more seconds, then raise my carton of coconut water to take a sip. It’s empty, which makes me groan.

  I stand up and snap my laptop closed, heading into the kitchen. I’m wearing a pair of loose, dark grey harem pants and a white t-shirt under an oversized dark blue button up. The sleeve of the button up gets caught when I open the refrigerator to grab another carton of coconut water.

  My temper flares and I shake loose of the fridge, scowling. Milo jumps down from his favorite spot by the window, on a special raised, heated bed I got for him. He comes over and I sit down, giving him some affection, scratching his head. He loves it, and starts climbing into my lap and purring. I’m reminded why I love him so much.

  “You are really, ridiculously cute,” I tell him, nuzzling his soft fur.

  He jumps off my lap and sprawls out on the floor, rolling over to show me his belly. He’s like a dog in that way, except that I pet him a little and then he gets excited and attacks my hand. I play with him a little longer, and then he gets bored of me. He walks away and licks his paw, then looks up at his window perch in anticipation.

  “Yeah, I know where you’ll be,” I tell Milo.

  The door buzzes, unexpected. I leave my coconut water in the kitchen and go to check the screen next to the door.

  Olive beams up at me, and shows off some kind of food in a big brown paper bag. I haven’t talked to her at all today, but I buzz her up.

  I unlock the door and then wander back to the kitchen, sitting in one of the island stools.

  “Hey!” Olive says, out of view. I hear her close the door behind her, then see her bright red locks and tiny frame appear.

  As usual, she’s dressed to kill, in a pale pink cropped silk pantsuit, a slightly darker trench coat, and barely there silver stiletto sandals.

  “Jesus, you look like a million bucks,” I grouse as she sets down the food.

  “Hello to you too,” she says, eyeing me. “You look… tired.”

  I scowl at her. “You can say it. I look like the bottom of a shoe that’s been worn in Wal-Mart for several years.”

  She laughs.

  “You’re so dramatic. Cheer up, I got us Chinese from that place we like in Decatur.” When I start to get up, she waves me back down. “Sit, sit. I got chopsticks.”

  Milo smells the food and comes to investigate, running his skinny body against the corners of the kitchen island. Olive unpacks six different Chinese takeout cartons, which makes me smile.

  “What did you get? Or should I say, what didn’t you get?”

  “Funny, funny lady!” she exclaims, taking off her coat and draping it over the couch. “I got Szechuan tofu and chicken, two really good dumplings, those green beans you like, and beef with broccoli. I don’t like having to choose one thing, you know? Besides, don’t even pretend that you won’t eat this for a whole week. I know you.”

  I pick up a pair of chopsticks, snapping them apart. Then I set in on the first container, which happens to be one of the dumplings. I take a bite and I’m immediately reminded of why I love that place; it’s so fresh, while still managing to be soul food.

  Especially for my hangover.

  “Omigod,” I say rapturously around my second bite. “It’s so friggin good.”

  Milo meows pitifully, as if I didn’t feed him half an hour ago. I wave a chopstick in Milo’s direction. “Ignore him, I just fed him.”

  Olive nods, sitting down beside me. She digs through the beef and broccoli with her own chopsticks. She grins. “Thank god for this place.”

  I move on to the green beans and the Szechuan chicken, taking Olive’s approach of eating a little of everything.

  “So, you’re hungover?” Olive asks. I shoot her a look. “What? I’m just asking. Making conversation.”


  “Yeah. I texted Jett yesterday, but I didn’t hear anything back for a few hours, so… I had a pity party.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a hot mess,” she says, abandoning the beef and broccoli for the dumplings. “So you drank a bottle of pinot and crashed? That’s not fun.”

  “Actually…” I say, then stop to take a particularly appetizing bite.

  “Don’t leave me hanging!” she says, elbowing me. “Jeez!”

  “Mmm, sorry. I was saying that actually, my night took an interesting turn. Jett came over…”

  Olive turns to me, her eyes wide. “He did?”

  “Yep. He came over, we made out, he went down on me like a fucking rockstar…”

  “Shut. UP.”

  “Nope. Then, get this. He refuses to have sex with me for the first time when I’m not stone cold sober, talks dirty to me, and leaves. It was extremely confusing.” I throw my chopsticks down.

  “It sounds hot, though!” Olive says. “Does he have any cute friends?”

  I roll my eyes. Milo meows, and I bend down and give him a pat.

  “I’m not sure that we have that kind of connection. I can’t exactly see myself going on double dates with him.”

  “I’m just saying,” she says, sliding off her stool. “If he mentions anything…”

  I grin at her. Olive is doing perfectly fine on her own. She’s got six boyfriends that I know of, all of them know about each other, and all of them are — by some miracle — totally fine about it.

  “Yeah, you’ll be the first one I call.” I stand up and start putting the leftovers straight in the fridge.

  “You got that right.” Olive looks at me smugly.

  My phone chimes, and I’m a little too quick to check it. It’s Jett, just as I hoped.

  What are you doing right now?

  “What, is loverboy already calling?” she says.

  I worry my bottom lip, suppressing a smile. “Maybe.”

  Nothing much, I text him back. It isn’t very creative, but I only have so many brain cells to spare at the moment.

  “Well, don’t let me stop you. I have a date with… actually, I’m not sure which man. I’ll have to look at my phone,” she says. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Michael.”

  I chuckle. “As long as you’re safe and happy.”

  “Ohhh, I can’t believe you’re going to be the bad one of the pair of us. All that rugged manliness… unprotected.” She wrinkles her nose. “Makes me jealous.”

  Do you want something to do? he texts. A second later, I get his follow up question. Or someone?

  I flush the exact color of Olive’s outfit, a dusty rose. Just thinking about last night makes me crazy horny.

  “All right, let me get out of here,” Olive says, going to pick up her coat. “Call me tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I say, giving her a quick hug. “Thanks for showing up with food. I needed it.”

  “Later!” she says. I hear the door open and close, but I’m focused on my texts.

  There is nothing I’d like more, I respond. My place?

  Be there in 15, he answers.

  I look down at my clothes and realize that I have only a few minutes to get ready. I sprint to my closet, opening the lingerie drawer. I pluck out a matching set of barely there black panties and a bra, then dig through the drawer for a teddy made of rose-colored silk.

  I dress as quickly as possible, quickly brush my teeth and put deodorant on, then light a few candles. The sun’s not yet set, but the candles will burn for awhile. In my mind when Jett is done, the sun will be down, and we’ll need the candles to see.

  The sound of the door buzzer goes off before I’m ready. My heart takes flight within the walls of my chest. I buzz him up with barely a glance at the security screen.

  When he knocks, I unlock the door with a trembling hand. The door swings open, and there he is, filling up my whole damned doorway. He’s wearing a light grey flannel shirt, black jeans, and black Doc Martens. I take a good long look at his short, black hair, his sparkling eyes just the color of sapphires, his big, muscular frame. I look at his lazy grin; it’s the look of a man who knows he’s getting some action tonight, without a doubt.

  “Do I pass inspection, princess?” he drawls.

  I bite my lip, stepping back without a word. He does pass inspection, but I’m not about to tell him that.

  Jett steps inside and closes the door, then moves toward me like a cat stalking his prey. He’s busy looking at me just as I did him, and I can feel his eyes on my naked skin.

  “I see you wore something pink. Just the color of your cheeks after you climax,” he says.

  My hands fly to my midsection, fingers knotting. For the life of me, I cannot think of the right thing to say.

  “Maybe,” I say with a delicate shrug.

  He closes in on me, then walks past me at the last second, heading toward the bedroom.

  “Not maybe,” he says as he pushes the door open.

  I watch him as he takes in my bedroom, furnished simply with an large four-poster bed, two end tables, and a bookcase. He heads further inside, and I watch him as he checks the strength of one of the posters, and then looks back at me.

  “I saw your face last night, when I was eating your pussy,” he says, sitting down on the bed. He leans back on his hands. “It was exactly the color that you’re wearing. A nice touch, if it was on purpose.”

  My mouth forms a tight line as I follow him into the bedroom. I’m not prepared for this, whatever game he’s playing. He’s put me off balance.

  “It wasn’t,” I say, crossing my arms over my torso.

  He ignores me, continuing on as if he hadn’t heard me.

  “I like your bedroom. It’s nearly spartan,” Jett says. “There is one thing that would make me like it more, though.”

  He’s quiet after that, provoking me into a response. I cock my hip.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Yesterday, I made it all about you. And while I do love going down on you, there is something else I want.” He leans forward, his eyes sparking with sudden intensity. “I want today to be all about me. And I want you to start by showing me what you do all by yourself in here.”

  I look at him, my brow lowering. “What?”

  “I’m asking you to show me your vibrator,” he says, smirking. “I know you have one.”

  My breath hitches, my heart starting to clatter in my chest again. He wants what?

  “My… my vibrator?” I stammer, unsure.

  “Yes. I want you to get it out of whatever drawer you hide it in, and I want you to put on a show for me.” He sits back, crossing his arms to mirror my own. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”

  “I—“ I gasp, startled. “I can’t do that! You’re— you’re practically a stranger!”

  He smiles, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. “Am I? After all, you asked me for something totally inappropriate.”

  I break into a sweat and get goosebumps on my arms.

  “I know, but—“

  He cuts me off. “Are we going to have mind-blowing, out of this world sex? Or should we just do it in missionary, get it over with? Because I know what kind of sex I have time for, and it ain’t some bland fucking vanilla shit.”

  I hold my breath. He’s got me there; I hadn’t imagined much past the fact that we would both be in the same room. If he was going to do this more than once, which would probably be required, I was going to have to give a little.

  “Okay,” I say, my voice shaking a little.

  “Okay?” he asks, his brows rising.

  I walk over to the little bedside table closer to him, pulling out the drawer. I rustle around for a second, producing my vibrator. Well, it’s one of two, but he hardly needs to see the one that’s shaped like a dick. I brandish the smaller one, a little pink number meant for clitoral stimulation.

  “Here it is,” I say tightly.

  Jett actually looks pretty impressed.


  “I thought you were going to shut me down, say vanilla works for you.” He grins. “Now I’m actually going to enjoy myself. Take my shoes off and everything.”

  Fuck! I could’ve gotten away with not doing this? I steam silently.

  I glare at him as he moves to the edge of the bed, unlacing his Doc Martens. I put the vibrator on the bed, then move to pull my panties off.

  He straightens up, reaching over and plucking the panties from my hand.

  “I knew you wore a thong,” he says, looking pleased with himself. I ignore him, climbing on the bed, resting on my knees.

  “Kiss me,” I order him. “I need a little help, to get me started.”

  He twists around, taking my mouth without further guidance. Jett’s lips are firm yet sensual against mine, his tongue writhing, toying with me. Dominating my mouth. Reminding me of just how good it felt yesterday when he ate my pussy.

  Just the thought is enough to make heat bloom in my core. I feel a tendril of moisture slither from my center, and it feels fucking dirty. To my surprise, he breaks off the kiss and tugs up the hem of my teddy.

  “Off,” he says simply.

  I shift, helping him take it off. It leaves me bare, naked before him except for the bra. He kisses my collarbone, and my breasts through the material. Jett’s arms encircle me, and he unhooks and removes my bra.

  He takes a second just to look at my nude body. I squirm a little, wanting to put my hands over my breasts, but he isn’t having it.

  “Stop that,” he commands, his voice raised.

  My heart is hammering; it seems so loud that I am sure he can hear it. He looks for another few seconds, then moves close to kiss me again.

  His kiss is magic, or at least it seems that way. I forget about my loud heart, about my shyness, about everything except for the kiss. He palms one of my breasts, drawing the pebbled peak to a hardened point. When he pinches my nipple, I gasp. It feels fucking great; moreover, it feels like there is a line connecting my nipples to my pussy.

  Jett picks up my vibrator, and eases me into a reclining position. It should be so wrong, I think. Touching myself in front of a stranger. But Jett is so fucking hot, and he’s kissing me, and touching me…

  He pushes my vibrator into my palm, kissing my neck. He hits the sweet spot on my neck, the place that makes my toes curl, and sucks softly.