The Roommate's Baby

by Penny Wylder

  "Fuck yes. I want you to put a baby inside me," she manages to gasp, as I keep thrusting my fingers in and out of her pussy, which is soaked now, wet with desire.

  Just when her breath speeds up, and she starts to rock against me, thrusting against my fingers in earnest, I pull my hand out. She pouts faintly, arching toward me in response, but I don't leave her empty long. I position myself against her, poise the tip of my cock at her entrance and gaze down between us at the sight. It's been a long, long time since I fucked anybody without a condom.

  There's something hot about that, too.

  I press the tip of my cock against her pussy and feel how tight she is, how she strains to stretch around me as I ease into her, an inch at a time.

  "Cannon," she moans, and the sound of my name on her lips, in that sexy, breathy voice of hers, drives me wild.

  I expect her to tell me to slow down, to give her time to adjust to my girth, because I can feel how she stretches around me, how tight her pussy is. But she seems to love it, thrusting her hips forward to spear herself onto me, push me deeper. "You like that?" I whisper against the crook of her neck, still watching between us, loving the sight of my cock sliding into her. "You like my big cock inside your tight little pussy?"

  "I fucking love it," she moans. "Give it to me. More."

  I arch my hips then, and push forward in one smooth motion, until my cock sinks fully into her. I pause there a moment, let her adjust again, and I feel her walls tighten around me as she clenches her muscles on purpose.

  But if I expected her to be put off by my size, or to need to adjust, I was so wrong.

  She's already sliding backward across the desk, positioning herself for another thrust.

  I give it to her, drawing out and then slamming back in hard. She tightens her legs around my waist, wraps her arms around my shoulders for balance.

  "Yes," she gasps.

  I pull back and thrust in again, moving faster now, picking up speed. The desk begins to rock beneath us as I drive into her again and again, her pussy tight and hot and wet around my slick velvet shaft. "You like big cocks, Rina?" I pull back, thrust forward, again and again.

  "Fuck yes."

  "You're a dirty little size queen aren't you?"

  "Fuck. Yes," she repeats, louder this time.

  I fuck her harder, holding her flush against me, her ass balanced on the edge of the desk. I speed up, until my balls are slapping against her pussy lips with every thrust, and her loud moans fill the office, and the pressure is building deep inside me, because fuck, I've been thinking about her all day, all night, and I've wanted this for so fucking long.

  Not to mention how hot it is that she's so hungry for it, so into the sex. She's dirty as hell, and I had no fucking idea. It's fantastic.

  When I can sense I'm nearing the edge, I lean back and angle my hips, fuck her harder, back arched so my cock drags along her inner wall, right in the front, along her G-spot. She thrusts with me, gasping and moaning, lost for words now that she's close to her climax. I keep fucking her, making sure my tip drags along that spot until she comes with a scream, her hips writhing against the desk, her arms and legs tightening around me, and her mouth falling open, eyes half-closed with pleasure. I keep moving through her orgasm, keep fucking her, and before long she's crying out again, this time right as I finish with a loud growl, pulling her tight and possessively against me as I explode inside her. I coat her pussy with my cum, pump it deep into her belly, and groan at the sensation of her walls convulsing around my cock, tightening and releasing with pleasure.

  When we finally pull apart, a hot rush of liquid spills down both our thighs. We laugh, breathless, and lock eyes, before assessing the mess we've made.

  "Oops," Rina says first, still biting that lower lip, glancing up at me with a sexy, naughty grin that makes me want to flip her over and fuck her all over again. "I think we made a mess."

  "A big, sticky mess," I agree. She hops off the desk, and I pull her against me, hold her there for a moment, both of us stark naked in the middle of the empty, deafeningly quiet office.

  "We should clean up," she says, then twists out of my arms without another word.

  When I watch her tug her skirt back into place and duck to grab her shirt, pulling it back on, something sinks in me. She doesn't meet my eye, doesn't glance my way again, but just beelines for the kitchen pantry to look for cleaning supplies.

  I want to stay where we were. Linger for a minute, savor the feeling of our bare bodies pressed together. But she clearly doesn't and, I remind myself, I should respect that. I need to respect that.

  Because she's right. This is a professional agreement. Nothing more.

  So what the hell is that nagging sensation at the back of my mind? Why can't I stop staring at her, watching her bend over even now, wiping up our joint mess? Why do I want to take her again already, right here?

  Normally after sex, I feel invigorated. Ready to get back to work, my head cleared, ready to be alone. But with Rina...

  With Rina, I want to bend her right back over that desk and go at it all over again.

  I tell myself it's just the baby aspect, and the fact that it's someone I know, and the fact that I've never done it at work here, and it's never felt that hot and dirty as hell before. That's all. I'm just excited by this new agreement. This new No Strings Attached agreement, the kind I love, the kind I always embrace. I always do that. I'm the king of NSA?

  So why do I get the feeling that this time, NSA is going to be suddenly impossible for me?

  5

  Rina

  "Rina."

  Cannon's voice stops me as soon as we cross the threshold into our apartment. After cleaning up at the office, we walked home together, though I made sure to stay at least five steps away from him at all times, trying to act normal, trying to remember how I normally walk. What do I do with my hands when I'm walking down the road with a friend normally?

  But nothing feels normal anymore. Nothing feels normal because every time I look at Cannon's face, I see him in an entirely different light. I see the sexy as hell man who lifted me onto a table in the middle of our office, shoved my skirt up around my hips and fucked me senseless.

  And I already can't wait for him to do it again.

  That's a good thing, I try to reassure myself. It means that trying to get pregnant will be enjoyable for us both. I mean, he certainly seemed to enjoy fucking me. And he's still stealing glances at me every few seconds as we walk up the street, whenever he thinks I'm not looking.

  But it's just lust. I have to remember that. It's NSA—we both agreed.

  I'm used to this. I do this all the time. It probably just feels a little different with Cannon because we already know one another, because we're friends. It doesn't mean I'm catching feelings. I'm stronger than that. I can just enjoy this for what it is—a quick, sexy fuck that I need in order to get what I want.

  We crossed through our lobby, still awkwardly a few steps apart. I felt like our doorman must have been able to tell, somehow, psychically, just by looking at us, what we'd done. When he said hello, I practically jumped a foot in the air and leapt away from Cannon.

  Cannon, for his part, just laughed at me, then waved to Mike.

  "Where have you two been so late?" Mike called happily.

  He always asks questions, I reminded myself. He's just being friendly. Not suspicious. Nobody cares if you and Cannon hooked up.

  "Stuck in the office," Cannon replied with a smirk in my direction.

  My face flared red hot. It's still red hot, even after the long elevator ride to our penthouse. And now, the moment I step out of that elevator—did it feel hotter than normal in there?—Cannon's voice stops me in my tracks.

  I glance over my shoulder at him. His eyes are on me, fixated, the way they've been ever since the office. "Yes?" I ask.

  "Where are you going?"

  I half-laugh, half-shrug, with a glance down at myself. I managed to put myself together reasonab
ly well enough to make it home on the darkened streets, but if anyone had looked closely at my outfit, they'd have seen that my shirt is missing half its buttons, tucked into my skirt to keep it together, and my skirt itself is wrinkled from where it was bunched around my waist. Not to mention my hair, which is a nest of tangles from where Cannon gripped it as we fucked on that table.

  "I'm going to shower," I say, in my most sarcastic tone. This should be obvious.

  But Cannon steps toward me, and I forget about obvious. I forget about everything, even breathing, until he's right in front of me, and his hands are wrapping around my shoulders, gentle but firm. "Do you really want to clean up yet, if we're just going to get filthy again?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

  I swallow, hard. "Oh, I... didn't think about that."

  He lifts a single eyebrow. "Shouldn't we try to fuck as often as possible while you’re ovulating?"

  "Um..." I lick my lips. His gaze drops to follow the trail of my tongue. "Yeah. Yes. That's... probably, yes. Are you good to go again, though? So soon?"

  That draws a long, loud laugh out of him. "Rina. Trust me." He catches my waist then and tugs me against him, until our bodies pressed flush together. Already I can feel the hard swell of his cock against my inner thigh, growing thicker by the second. "I'm always good to go."

  For me, or for anyone? Part of me wants to ask. The rest of me knows that's a train of thought I don't want to go riding. So I just tilt my head up and smile slyly at him. "How do you want me, Cannon?"

  He runs his hands through my hair, then gently tugs it to tilt my head back farther, as he bends down to claim my mouth in a hot, slow, searing kiss. I feel that kiss all the way down to my belly, into my toes. I feel it in my veins, set me alight from the inside out. When we break apart, I'm trying to catch my breath from that kiss. He has other ideas, though. Without warning, he lifts me off my feet.

  On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist for balance, as he walks us backward toward the couch. "How do I want you?" he muses, his voice still lower than I've ever heard it before, a soft, sexy sound, with his mouth pressed right against my neck. "Hmm... Good question. Besides immediately?"

  My belly tightens at that. He wants me. But of course he does. He wants to fuck me—I already know that. Don't read into it, I scold myself.

  We bump into the couch, and he lets go of my legs, drops me back onto my feet and sizes me up for a second. "Take off your skirt."

  The simple command in his tone gets me wetter than anything we've done so far. I grin at him as I slowly reach for my zipper, peel it off, and then push at the hem of fabric to let the skirt fall around my ankles. His eyes drop straight to my body, white hot lust evident in his hungry gaze as he studies my bare pussy. My shirt parts too, since half the buttons are missing, and his eyes trail up the flat plane of my stomach to where the shirt still clings together, only the top two buttons in tact, holding it together over my lacy bra.

  Then he steps forward, grabs my collar, and tears the shirt the rest of the way open. He peels it off me and deposits it on the floor beside my skirt. He reaches around for my bra next, and I reach forward at the same time to start to undo his pants. But he clasps my wrists in one strong hand and holds them for a moment, pinned between us.

  "Ah, ah," he murmurs, those dark eyes of his searching out mine once more. "You asked how I wanted you. Do you like being obedient, Rina?"

  My eyes widen, as does my smile, as I step closer, push my wrists closer to him to let him gain a better grip. "As long as you like telling me exactly what to do... sir," I add as an afterthought. I've role-played a little with guys before. But none of them have ever looked at me the way Cannon is now—like he simultaneously can't believe I'm real and also like he wants to devour me whole. That hungry gleam in his eye is equal parts dangerous and hot as hell.

  "Good girl," he replies with a half-smile. "Turn around."

  I spin around in front of him, my heart skipping. He lets go of my wrists, but only long enough to let me turn my back to him. Then he catches them again, holding me easily with just one hand. He pauses for a moment, and I steal a peek over my shoulder, only to find him picking up my shirt from the floor, which he quickly wraps around my wrists and knots, just tightly enough that I can't pull my wrists apart, but not too tightly to hurt.

  "How does that feel?"

  "Good," I reply.

  He tugs the knot a little bit tighter. "Good what?"

  "Good, sir," I amend, grinning broader now. "Thank you, sir."

  He steps up behind me, and I can feel his bare chest against my back as he drops his own shirt to the floor. He runs his hands up my sides, one hand sliding around to trace the flat plane of my bare stomach, while the other caresses the edges of my breasts, slow and teasing. "You like this? Feeling under my control?"

  "Yes, sir." My belly tightens at his words, his touch, everything about him. I never imagined Cannon could be this sexy or commanding. There's so much you don't know about a person, even a guy you know so well, until you meet their bedroom persona.

  His, I have to admit, I'm finding hotter than I ever could have imagined.

  "I like this too." He runs his hands up my back, over my shoulders, then down to encircle my breasts, his hands cupping me while his fingers trace my areolas, zeroing in on my nipples, which are already starting to harden, despite the warm temperature in our apartment. "You are so fucking sexy, Rina. Your perfect body, your dirty mind..." He adds his thumbs to pinch the very tip of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling gently. I gasp faintly, leaning forward, unable to help myself, swayed by his touch. "I love feeling you respond to me. Feeling you tremble at my touch." He tightens his fingers, and another gasp escapes me, my nipples rock hard now, the sensation hovering right on the threshold between pleasure and pain.

  He keeps me there, not pinching hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough that the pleasure drives me mad. I try to arch my back, press my chest forward into his hands, but he pulls my body back against his. "Did I tell you to move?" he says softly, dangerously.

  I swallow hard, again. "No, sir."

  "Then don't move, Rina. Not until I say you can. Understand?"

  I nod my head, licking my lips at the same time. Fucking hell. I'm already soaked, I can feel it, a faint trickle working its way down my thigh.

  "Good," he practically purrs, his lips just beside my ear. I can feel his breath on my cheek, hot and smelling faintly of mint. "Now, what am I going to do with you, my obedient, dirty little girl?"

  A shiver runs up my spine. He chuckles softly, clearly able to feel that. He lets his hands trail down my sides, one reaching around to slide over my stomach again, then down the edge of my hip, across my mound, until his fingers slip between my legs and stroke along the outer edges of my pussy lips. That, too, draws another soft chuckle from him.

  "Wet already, dirty girl?"

  I bite my lower lip and cast a glance over my shoulder at him. "You know how to get me wet every time, sir."

  He leans against me a little harder, and I can feel that thick, fat cock of his digging into my lower back. Every inch of me wants him, wants to feel him inside me again, stretching my walls, making me ache as he fills me up. But I know better than to ask for what I want right now. He's in control.

  His eyes flash, dark with desire. "Spread your legs."

  I glance down at the couch, realize I'm positioned right in front of the arm of it. I press my lips together, shoot one last look at him, and then step my feet wider, spreading them as instructed.

  His hand, still between my legs, slips into my slit now, stroking along my length, his finger gliding easily through my juices.

  Then he bends me forward, over the arm of the couch, fast. I gasp, my hands still bound behind me, tied by my shirt. Now his hand leaves my pussy, and I bite my lip to ignore the ache between my legs, resisting the urge to protest. I don't want him to stop touching me.

  But he's only paused to unzip his pants, and push th
em down his legs. I glance back as he steps out of them, my eyes widening yet again at the sight of his glorious cock. I don't know what I expected—I knew Cannon had a lot of lovers, and I knew they never complained about him. A lot of them tended to text afterward, trying to get him to come over for another hookup, though I know he never obliged. Now I understand why they wanted round two, after going one round with his cock.

  He's so big.

  Part of me is almost proud that I can handle him.

  He catches me looking at him, and grins knowingly. "Hungry for me again already, Rina?"

  "So, so bad," I admit, my eyes still fixed on his cock.

  "You like when I stuff you full?" He steps forward, until the tip of his cock presses against my ass. With one hand, he guides himself between my pussy lips. But once there, he only strokes the tip of his head along my slit, coating himself in my juices, not pressing forward, not yet.

  A single, breathy moan escapes my lips. "Cannon..."

  Something about that, me saying his name, seems to snap him out of the spell we've been under. Suddenly, his eyes spark, and I can tell he won't be waiting or teasing me anymore. Now, he's the hungry one.

  "Fuck, Rina." He presses his hips forward, the tip of his cock spreading my lower lips an inch at a time. He doesn't stop, doesn't back off until he's slid, inch by inch, all the way into my pussy, in a single slow forward stroke. I moan, unable to help myself, because fuck, it feels so good when he does that, stretches my pussy to its very limits. I can feel every inch of him inside me, straining against all my walls at once, and it drives me wild. No one has ever filled me like this before. No one has ever made me feel so completely, utterly full, and I never want it to end.

  But he's drawing back already, and a mewl of protest escapes my throat. I try to arch back against him, levering off the couch. He just presses one hand to the small of my back and forces me back down. Then, without warning, he thrusts into me again, harder this time.