by A. T. Smith
I can feel the pressure building to a dangerous level, I am about to explode. My pussy clenches around his fingers, preparing to release the coiled tension. I feel a sudden emptiness as Phillip removes his fingers from within me.
It is soon replaced with an unbelievable tightness as his thick cock fills me. “Oh God,” I cry out not meaning to. I don’t want him knowing how much I am enjoying this. Not that it is him; it’s just my natural reaction to a dick in me. I always become wet and want more when I’m filled to capacity like this.
“That’s right you little bitch, take my dick and fucking like It.” his hands fist into my hips, digging and biting into the flesh, the pain only spurs my arousal more.
My orgasm is building again and I am about to topple over, “I’m gonna cum,” I shout out as my climax tears through me, I feel dizzy and lightheaded, my cunt is pouring around his dick, tensing tightly sheathing him.
“God you are so fucking tight.” He carries on plunging violently inside of me, each and every thrust driving me crazy and delirious.
“I’m going to cum in this tight little cunt, then you’re going to go home with it in you, a reminder of who fucked you, and how much you liked it you little slut.” He thrusts four more times hard, hitting my cervix before spilling inside of me.
His cum hits my walls, drenching them before trickling around his girth and onto the inside of my slick thighs.
I collapse back on the desk, all energy apparently having left me.
“Fuck that was so good.” Phillip helps me to stand before assisting me to dress. “Now about this whole leaving you alone thing?” he stands before me, bringing his hand to stroke my cheek before sliding it down to wrap around my throat.
I start to panic, my airway is becoming restricted, and my brain is fogging. I can’t see properly.
I can feel myself falling, asleep? I don’t know what is going to happen to me. “There isn’t any stopping this. You saw my last message that still stands you dirty little slut, we have only just begun.” I feel my eyes closing tightly shut and sleep drowning me.
“Now when you go home tell that dear Leighton, it won’t be long until another one bites the dust okay? Sleep well whore.” He lightly slaps my face before lying me down. I feel myself black out on the couch.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I wake up in my car at around four in the afternoon. My head is hurting so much, I feel like it is being squeezed in vise. I look at my surroundings; I am in the huge circular drive of my home. How I got here I have no clue, and that is the most frightening thing of all.
I start the car and drive it through the grounds and towards the underground parking garage; the effects of my tranquillisersare still prominent in my blood stream, causing me to feel dizzy and fatigued. I just want to get indoors and wash myself.
I park the Audi in its space, thankful to see a car is still missing; meaning Leighton is still at work or out somewhere unaware of my little visit today.
After turning off the ignition and getting out, a dizzy spell takes over me, threatening to bring me to the ground. I rub my throat where a slight sting still remains, the skin feeling raw and sore.
I manage to straighten myself out as I start the walk towards the entrance of the mansion. A wet sticky fluid gushes down my thighs as I walk. The feeling brings vomit to my mouth. I double over and spew the contents of my stomach onto the concrete.
I feel disgusting, used, dirty and guilty as fucking hell. How was I going to be able to look at Leighton ever again? I haven't figured out if I should tell him. It hasn’t made the slightest bit of difference. They are still out for our blood. I am just thankful I made it home safe without any harm to my child.
I rush through the large hallways of the house towards the stairs, trying my hardest to avoid the Security guys who are lingering around here somewhere. There is no doubt in my mind that Leighton has been informed, that he is either worried out of his mind or so fucking angry that it was best I lock the bedroom door and hide away until he has cooled off.
I make it to the bedroom and into the en-suite in record time. I run the shower and strip myself of my clothes before practically diving under the spray to rid my body of the scent of betrayal and Phillip. I want to be sick again, the thought of him inside of me, having me, having what is Leighton’s and only Leighton’s, has me wanting to wake up and for it to be the morning again.
I lather my hands in soap and begin to wash my body, under my arms, my shoulders and aching neck. When I reach my bump I jump as pain sears through me.
Along my pregnant, baby filled tummy is a wound, a blade slice. Approximately four inches in length and deep enough to cause me to want to cry every time the hot water drips onto it. The blood running into the water makes me realise the extent of the monumental mistake I have made today. How will Leighton ever forgive me, I have risked our baby’s and my life just to try and be the Hero. I should have just left Leighton to deal with it like he said he would.
I slide to the floor of the shower, the tiles now warm. I bring my feet into my bottom and cry into my knees. My life has dramatically shifted on its offset axis, and I’m completely and utterly to blame for it.
After ten minutes of self-induced sobbing I drag myself from the floor and rinse the bubbles and shame from my skin.
After gently towel drying myself and dressing the gash on my stomach to stop it from seeping blood onto my clothes, I dress myself in my usual comfy leggings and long top comfort me when inside I feel so broken.
As I look in the mirror at my pregnant form I sigh, unable to believe that in less than a month my little squishy will be here, he or she will be introduced to this mad world as we know it.
By the time I make it downstairs to the kitchen it is gone five o’clock and dinner isn’t even cooked. The three men on shift are sitting around the island as per usual looking at things on their laptops and talking to people on their phones.
“Hi guys, you okay?” I ask them casually hoping that they don’t know of my disappearance and that they think I was in bed all day.
“Afternoon Abbi, feeling okay?” Jim, one of the older guys asks me; not giving off any signals that he knows of me being gone.
“Not too bad, baby’s kicking my ribs today.” I lie.
“Sounds painful.” He says sympathetically.
“I’m going to make a quick spagbol, did you guys want some?” I question them, retrieving the mince, onions and tomatoes.
“Sure why not,” one replies, “Go for it,” another replies and the last of the three just nods his head.
“Okay, cool, I’ll get to it.” I distract myself from the pending blow out between my fiancé and myself by cooking and cleaning, dusting and cleaning some more.
By the time seven pm rolls around, Leighton is due to walk through the door, dinner is ready and just being kept hot. I am sitting in the lounge trying to calm my erratic nerves.
I hear the opening and closing of the front door through the mansion. I shuffle in my spot of the sofa anxiously. I count the steps until he reaches me. A total of sixty nine steps, yes I know, how very rude.
I see in my peripheral vision the broad, mountainous shadow of Leighton, his form stood still. I turn my head nervously to look at him. I gulp down my fear and try to keep my arousal at bay as I look at him.
I take in the sight of him, my beautiful fiancé. His tall muscular frame fills the entire doorway. The huge bunch of bright red roses clenched in his hands infuses the room with their sweet aroma. It is a daily thing to return home from 'work' with some sort of gift, a reminder that he is still here and he still loves me. The flowers today are just another reminder of how unfaithful I have been to him and how disgusted I am with myself.
The days’ worth of stubble he had this morning, after returning from the hospital has grown even more, shadowing his handsome face. The masculine scruff draws my eyes to those perfect lips, the bottom one currently being nibbled on furiously by his sparkly pearly white teeth.
“Goo
d evening sweetheart.” His deep husky voice fills my ears, causing a flood of wetness to soak through my knickers.
“Good evening yourself” My short reply has him placing the bunch of flowers on the side and striding across the large expanse of the lounge towards me. He knows something; he has to know something is up.
Sitting up taller on the couch I turn my head to his onslaught.
Leighton stops above me, his hand reaching to caress my cheek. His callous fingertips leave a burning trail against my skin, trailing from my cheek to the tops of my breasts. My nipples stiffen instantly awaiting the further caress.
“Abigail, a little birdie has informed me that you were outside the house today, without supervision, that you have disobeyed my direct orders. Is my little informant correct?” He questions me, the previous romantic tone to him disappearing instantly and the controlling, dominant man I have grown to love taking his place.
“Erm, well, I, err,” I try my hardest to search my brain for a way to cover up my little expedition today. I come up with the first thing I can think of, “I ran out of tampons. I needed some desperately so I had to go to the shop. But that's all I did, then I came back and haven't been out since. I took my piece with me; I had my alarm and phone. I would have called you and taken someone with me but I was in a hurry and didn't want to bother anyone” phew, that was close. I take a deep breath to calm myself back down. I smile at my spontaneous lying ability.
“Sounds feasible,” he walks around the sofa, standing in front of me. His hand clasps my lowered chin and inches my face up to his “well it would if you had fucking periods Abigail. You see it’s kind of hard to when your over eight months pregnant don't you think?” His anger is now seething through his pours.
“NOW TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH ABIGAIL ADAMS OR SO HELP ME GOD!” His voice bellows through the room, causing me to fold into myself. I’m not scared of Leighton, he will never hurt me, but the blatant viciousness and malevolence he can portray is rather frightening. If he knows where I have been today I'd hate to think what will happen.
I have committed the ultimate betrayal today, the one thing I promised I'd never do. The past month things have become so bad between Leighton’s men and those sadistic bastards, that they were threatening my very existence. I took the time to sit with Phillip Blackman, the leader of the gang, today, to try and figure out a way to stop this nonsense. I want my baby to grow up safe and healthy, with its father here, not having to worry to whether I might have the police at my door tomorrow telling me my fiancé has been murdered.
No enough is enough, no more violence, no more hatred and bloodshed.
If only today had gone as planned, if only the four inch long cut along my pregnant stomach wasn't there and if only in approximately two hours when we got into our bed Leighton wouldn't see it. He would know I had lied, he would know what had happened; he would know that it was a message for him.
If I thought the bloodshed was bad now it would be nothing compared the massacre that would take place as of tomorrow.
I can only pray to The Lord above that he protects my fiancé and my child, because World War Three is impending and all because I can’t obey one fucking order.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The night goes as planned, he has questioned me further about where I had gone, my answer still the same. I was adamant with him that I had spot bled and needed tampons. I convinced him that he didn’t understand how a woman worked so therefore wouldn’t have a clue whether I’d need them or not.
He eventually gave up and we sat down, ate our dinner, and caught up on the day’s activities, me obviously lying through my teeth at my ‘boring day to day things’ I apparently did.
At ten in the evening Leighton helps me to bed, supporting my aching back as I traipse up the large staircase leading to our room. As is usual I pass my baby’s nursery, looking inside the beautiful and perfect room Leighton has created for our child. The love he feels for his unborn squishy is so heart melting I can feel it in my heart and stomach. The guilty feeling I have managed to push aside the last few hours is flooding back full force into my heart, causing my eyes to water.
“Come on angel, let’s sleep. I’m shattered. Ant is doing well, so now I can sleep knowing that news.” He clasps my hand in his and leads me to our room, the large bed inviting my still slightly painful head to the pillows atop of it.
“God my head hurts today.” I say, trying to play the pain off as a normal, everyday headache.
“Come on Baby, in you get,” he says as he pulls the duvet back. I scrambled in before he demands I remove my clothes.
I bring the cover to my chin and snuggle myself within it. I instantly relax when I feel the warmth of Leighton behind me, spooning my swollen belly in his strong arms. The scent of him is diminishing every bad memory of the previous hours today.
His hands move around to stroke my belly as normal; every soft rub of his hand is grazing close to where the bandage dressing is covering the slice in my skin. I keep closing my eyes and holding my breath when his fingertips catch the edge of it, hoping he doesn’t feel. He makes no such suggestion he has, so I leave it.
Closing my eyes I soften into him, my fatigue of carrying this clear ten pound mass of little person within me really is getting to me now. My stomach won’t stop growing, even only mere weeks away from delivery.
It is the twenty-second of December now, three days until Christmas and exactly three weeks until the little mite is here.
“Three weeks today, baby. I can’t wait to be a daddy.” God why did he have to be so God damn perfect, even counting day by day how long it would be until our family was perfect. But as I close my eyes the thoughts of earlier seep through I can’t help but think that we’ll never be perfect, not now. If he was to find out what happened I would have ruined every chance I ever had at eternal happiness. “I can’t wait to have its tiny hand wrapped around my finger, to kiss its soft hair, to smell that wonderful new born baby scent and to hold it close to my chest while I fall asleep with her or him in my arms. Their tiny snores soothing any pain or anger built up from the day. To look at it and see eyes and skin reminding me of my beautiful wife to be. To watch as their tiny mouth feeds from you, as his or hers eyes look at you like you’re the best thing in the world.” I try my hardest to hold back the tears, I really do, Leighton doesn’t deserve me, and I don’t deserve someone as amazing as him. I would bring him the upmost pain, I wish in some ways he had left me there, on that cold street, or had just let that man kill me, to slice my throat and have done with me, because the pain I am now feeling deep within me is far worse than anything I had ever dealt with before. This is soul tearing, heart crushing agony.
After he places his customary kiss to my forehead and turns around to sleep I let the tears fall. His gentle snores reassuring me he is asleep, that it is now okay to let the shame and guilt flood the mattress.
Every time my child kicks inside my womb, every time I have to wake up to go to the toilet because of the pressure its head is putting on my bladder I am reminded. I hate myself with a new raw disgust, David would turn his face from me, Lisa and Carl would probably turn their backs on me as well, not allowing me to see my new little foster sister Lily, and Leighton, oh God what have I done.
I sit on the tiled floor of our bathroom and cry fiercely, tears of shame for the whore I am, the stupid little slut who fucks her fiancé’s number one enemy, for fucking the bastard that nearly killed my best friend and brother.
I finally crawl back into my bed at gone two in the morning and close my eyes, feeling numb and tearless.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I am numb, all day every day. My first Christmas with Leighton has come and gone. Antonio is out of hospital and being cared for by Debbie and Maria non-stop. I am sure the mollycoddling is probably driving him completely crazy right now.
Leighton, as usual has continued to but me the most amazing gifts, perfect little presents that melt my heart every
time. He has been the most attentive man in the world, giving me his usual foot and back rubs every day to ease the muscle and joint pain from the probably now twenty pound baby nestled in my womb.
I have begun to get Braxton hicks, they are fucking agonising. The worst pain I have ever felt. I am assured they are normal, but nothing compared to the real pain of child birth. That idea only makes me shit myself that much more.
It is now two weeks until my due date, and up to this point, even during sex, I have managed to conceal the wound on my stomach. I still have to dress it to stop it seeping onto my clothes. It still causes me pain under the heat of the shower or in the bath. It has gradually begun to heal, but the top layers are still delicate and keep tearing and reopening, I should have had it stitched but I don’t want anyone to know about it, to know the disgusting secrets I hide inside of my heart.
I am lying in the bath on Sunday evening, relaxing my body and reading a book on my e-reader. Some crap lovey dovey, hearts and roses book. It makes me want to throw up. No one has such a perfect life, the world isn’t that kind. I had it once but things aren’t going to be like that anymore. There is always something or someone to upset the balance of things.
I have a soothing rock ballad playing in the background, Bon Jovi’s voice is filtering through singing one of my all-time favorites ‘always’. Someone would think I am an emotional masochist to keep putting myself through all this psychological bullshit at the worst time of my life. Words of a song or a line in a novel reminds me once again that I have to get out of this funk, Leighton doesn’t know, he will never know. I have come to the decision that I wasn’t going to tell him, it hasn’t made a difference what I have done; Phillip and his group of bastards are still going to continue, so there is no point making the situation worse by telling him.
I place my e-reader on the counter beside the bath and slip under the warm water to wet my hair, preparing to wash it, the water covering everywhere but my nose, mouth and mammoth bump that is currently bobbing in the water. The liquid freshness does wonders to my skin, opening my pours and waking me.