The Game

by Kira Blakely

  We’re going to have a baby? She’s pregnant?

  “Apparently, I’ve been pregnant for five weeks now,” she says, looking at her belly. “You won’t feel Baby yet but it’s there in the oven all right.”

  She takes out something from her pocket and hands it to me. “This is Baby’s first picture.”

  I look at it, my heart stopping as my gaze rests on that tiny speck of white.

  My child. A child with Abby.

  I never imagined myself being a father, never having had one. Now that I am one, though, I can feel nothing inside me but pride and excitement.

  And even more love for Abby.

  Setting the picture down, I cup Abby’s face in my hands and kiss her. She places her hands around my neck, matching my passion as she parts her lips and lets her tongue tangle with mine.

  Fuck, I’ve missed kissing her.

  I’ve missed her taste. I’ve missed her smell. I’ve missed the feel of her body against mine.

  I’ve missed her.

  I thought I’d lost her but now she’s here for real, for good. And she’s carrying our baby.

  Sliding my hands down to her neck and then resting them on her shoulders, I kiss her harder, swallowing her gasps and muffling her moans. The warmth turns into heat, running through my veins like molten lava, spreading through my body like wildfire.

  I want to fuck her on the divan, into the divan, right now. My cock is twitching in approval, but I tell myself there’s no rush. Now that she’s chosen to be with me, we have endless opportunities to savor each other’s bodies, to give and take pleasure. Right now, though, it’s not about the pleasure. It’s about commitment.

  I want Abby to know that I’m never going to let her slip through my fingers again and that she can count on me to take care of her and the baby.

  My hand stroking her hair and the other on the small of her back, I pull her closer to me then take her hand and place it on my back. I want her to feel all of me, to feel that I’m all hers.

  She puts her other hand on my back as well and when they both slide down to playfully squeeze my butt, I let out a moan, my cock quivering inside my boxers.

  I still can’t believe that she’s mine.

  I pull off her shirt and pin her against the wall as I kiss her again. Harder.

  I seal her mouth with mine, my lips crushing hers, my tongue dancing with hers.

  I cup her breasts through her bra then push the small piece of clothing out of the way so that I can feel her bare breasts in my palms.

  Abby shivers, tearing her lips away from mine and throwing her head to one side as she lets out a loud moan. I kiss her ear as I knead the mounds of flesh in my hands, licking the lobe and sucking on it. Then I nip the sensitive skin lightly as I rub her nipples. More moans escape from her mouth, sharp gasps in between as she trembles.

  “I read my breasts were going to be more sensitive,” she says after one gasp. “But I didn’t think they would be this sensitive.”

  “How sensitive?” I ask as I twist her nipples gently.

  She cries out.

  “Any other changes I should know about?” I ask.

  “The hormones,” she answers, panting. “I might just suddenly cry or I might just feel like slapping you when you walk into a room.”

  I frown. “I hope not.”

  She puts out a finger. “And one more thing.”

  “What?”

  She moves her mouth near my ear. “I’m hornier.”

  As if to prove her point, she grabs the bulge in my crotch.

  “Fuck!”

  “I think we’re going to have to watch the language from now on,” she says, pulling my shirt and pushing me against the wall, reversing our positions.

  She takes off my shirt then the button of my pants. Then she kneels on the carpet to pull down the zipper with her teeth before licking my cock through my boxers.

  Oh, fuck.

  “You know, some smells and tastes make me want to throw up now but this…” She takes my cock out, sniffing it before licking the tip.

  “Fuck, Abby!” I throw my head and beat my fist against the wall.

  She gives me a reprimanding look. “What did I say about language?”

  “You can’t expect me to behave when you’re not,” I tell her.

  “Oh, but I’m being very good,” she says, the mischief in her grin matching that glint in her eyes. “Very good.”

  Then she grips my hips and takes my whole cock inside her mouth.

  Fuck…

  If she’s going to be this horny for the next nine months, I’ll have to think of other curses.

  Heaven help me.

  Just when I feel like the wall behind me is about to crack under my fists, Abby releases my cock. She gets up, takes off her pants and underwear and lies down on the divan, spreading her legs for me.

  And I’d like nothing more than to bury my wet, aching cock between them.

  But not yet.

  Taking off my pants, I climb on top of her, kissing her until she’s out of breath, moaning when I taste myself on her tongue.

  Oh, I can’t get enough of that wicked mouth, but that’s only my starting point.

  Reluctantly abandoning her lips, I kiss her neck, sucking on a patch of skin that makes her moan. Then I suck on her breasts, her back arching in response.

  “Shit.”

  I grin against her skin. “I thought we were going to watch our language.”

  “Forget it. Our baby can’t hear it anyway, and I’ll make sure he or she never will.”

  “Whatever you say.” I continue sucking on her breasts then lick her nipples before tugging on them with my lips.

  She cries out, her body shivering as her nails dig into my skin.

  “Hurry, Grant.”

  It’s an order but I ignore it, teasing her nipples a little more before moving to the soft curve of her belly.

  Right now, it still looks the same. But within weeks, it will get bigger as our baby grows.

  “Will you still want me when my tummy is as big as a chimpanzee’s?” Abby asks, lifting her head to look at me. “When I’m as big as an elephant?”

  “I’ll still want you even when you’re as big as a whale,” I tell her, showering gentle, reverent kisses around her belly button.

  I know her body will change. A lot. But she’ll always be beautiful to me.

  I move lower, planting a kiss on top of her curls before teasing the nub hidden there. Then I move to her thighs, sucking and licking the insides.

  “Grant!”

  Sensing her impatience, I grip her thighs and kneel between her legs.

  “You sure it’s all right?” I ask her, suddenly concerned.

  “Yes.” She pushes her hips against me.

  Even so, I try to be gentle, pushing in slowly.

  Fuck, she’s tight. And warm. And soft. And my cock gets even harder, raging to experience all those delights.

  Just a little more.

  Once I’m completely inside her, I press a kiss to Abby’s temple but she cups my face and pulls my lips down on hers. Afterward, she nips my earlobe as she gives me a squeeze.

  “Fuck me like you mean it.”

  Oh, what the hell. I start thrusting and Abby stops talking, her speech reduced to gasps and moans as she squeezes her eyes shut and thrashes against the divan.

  After just a few thrusts, she grips the edges of the chair as she lets out a cry, shuddering. I move faster, pounding into her. I throw my head back and give one last, deep thrust as my cock finally gets its release, spurting and quivering inside her.

  As soon as I’ve caught my breath, I quickly pull out and climb off her, not wanting to crush her. I slump against the bean bag instead, catching my breath.

  Abby gets off the divan and joins me on the floor, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “I have to say... I like this pregnant you,” I tell her.

  “You’re saying that now. Just wait a few months.”

&n
bsp; “I will.” I place my hand on her belly again, stroking it.

  “Do you want a boy or a girl?” she asks.

  “I think I’d like a boy, but it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Really?” She lifts her head and looks at me with creased eyebrows. “I thought you’d want a little girl to pamper.”

  “Nah. She’ll boss me around.”

  Abby chuckles, entwining her fingers with mine as she rests her head on my shoulder again. “Whatever happens, promise me we’re not going to make our children into something they’re not, that we’re going to love them no matter what.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that.”

  She lifts her head again. “Oh, and promise me you’ll be there for the next check-up next month.”

  “Sure,” I assure her, pressing my lips against the back of her hand. “I’ll be there for every check-up.”

  I don’t want to miss any step of our baby’s development or any milestone. I’ll be with Abby every step of the way.

  “Have you chosen a doctor?” I ask her.

  “Yes. I’ll be seeing Dr. Norwood.”

  ***

  Brett Norwood.

  I’ve read that he’s one of the top obstetrician-gynecologists in the country and that he’s known all over the world so I understand why Abby chose him.

  But why does he have to be a man?

  Watching him now as he talks to Abby, sitting next to her on the examination table as he answers her questions, I can feel my jealousy rising.

  To make matters worse, he’s just about as good-looking as I am with the same blue eyes. It’s not the looks I’m worried about, though. It’s the fact that he’ll be seeing all of Abby, examining a part of her that only I should have the right to examine.

  Why did she have to choose a male doctor?

  I’ve told Abby I’m uncomfortable with it but she’s made up her mind, saying that the fact that he’s a man has nothing to do with it. She just trusts him as her doctor.

  She had such a hard time trusting me and now, she just easily trusts this doctor?

  When I told her that, though, she brought up all the women from my past, saying she trusts me in spite of all of them and that I should trust her. Of course, I could say no more.

  I swear this is her way of getting back at me somehow.

  And I can’t even read this guy, not knowing if he’s interested in Abby or not.

  Needless to say, I’m going to be here for every check-up.

  “Well, that’ll be all.” Dr. Norwood gets off the table. “If you need anything, you can just call me anytime.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Abby smiles. “Thanks, Doctor.”

  “And congratulations again, Mr. Herbert.” He offers his hand.

  I shake it but say nothing, waving my hand as we leave the clinic.

  Outside, Abby grabs my arm.

  “Come on. You don’t have to look like you’re being tortured.”

  “But I am,” I tell her.

  “If you’re such a grouch, I won’t bring you to my check-ups.”

  I frown.

  “Just kidding,” Abby says,

  Well, she’s in a good mood. She seems to be glowing, actually, pregnancy becoming her.

  “You know, I was thinking maybe we should come up with a pregnancy app. I know there are a lot out there already but I just feel like none of them really works for me.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll look into it,” I tell her.

  “Thanks.” She rests her head on my shoulder, causing my jealousy to simmer away. “Oh, and I want to look at some baby furniture. Can we do that? Please?”

  She clasps her hands under her chin as she gives me those puppy dog eyes.

  I place my arm around her. “Sure. But it will have to be after I meet with a client.” I look at my watch. “I’m having lunch with him.”

  She frowns. “Oh, right. That guy from Parsons Entertainment, right?”

  “You can join us since you’re still my personal assistant and all,” I tell her, rubbing her arm. “I’d be happy to introduce you. Then we can go shopping afterward.”

  That makes her face light up. Ah, nothing cheers a woman up like a potential shopping spree.

  “Okay.”

  ***

  We arrive at the restaurant early, Abby ordering a bunch of appetizers since she’s hungry. I just order a glass of wine as I wait, watching her devour the food and checking some things on my phone, occasionally looking around to see if the man I’m meeting has arrived.

  After a few minutes, I see him entering the restaurant just as Abby disappears into the restrooms, wearing a blue-collared shirt that has the logo of his company and holding a black laptop bag. He’s older than I expected, probably in his fifties but it doesn’t matter. As our eyes meet, I smile and he smiles back, walking over.

  “Hi, there.” He offers his hand. “I’m Dennis Cooper from Parsons Entertainment.”

  “Grant Herbert,” I introduce myself as I shake his hand. “Please sit down.

  He sits, a puzzled look spreading across his face as he sees the empty plates on the table. “You’ve got company.”

  “My personal assistant,” I tell him. “Who also happens to be my girlfriend.”

  “Ah. How nice.”

  I glance around. “Ah, there she is now.”

  I stand up as Abby approaches. “Dennis, meet Abby Gomez. Abby, this is…”

  I don’t finish my introduction, feeling worried as Abby grows pale, her breathing ragged as she stares at Dennis in horror.

  Why is she looking at him as if she’s seen a ghost?

  “Abby?”

  Chapter 15

  Ghost From the Past

  Abby

  Impossible.

  I run across the parking lot, my heart racing inside my heavy chest and my hands shaking.

  Of all the people who could walk into that restaurant and do business with Grant, why does it have to be Dennis Parker?

  I thought he was dead. I wished many times that he was, rotting to death in some cellar or at a bottom of a ravine with no one to recognize him or look for him or mourn him. Yet, there he is, alive and well, with that smile on his face.

  How can he smile like that after all he did to my mother?

  “Hey.” Grant catches up with me, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his arms. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

  I snuggle into his warmth, breaking into a sob.

  Why am I crying? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the hormones. Or maybe it’s because seeing that man reminded me of all the pain and suffering my mother went through and of her death.

  He was the one who killed her, after all.

  Grant places a hand on my hair. “That’s the man with the mustache, isn’t he? Your stepfather?”

  I nod. “I thought he was dead. We never heard from him again. I never thought I’d see him again.”

  “Shh.” He runs his fingers through my hair.

  “He’s the reason for all the hell my mother and I went through. He started all of it. He brought me and my mother to America. He promised her a lot of things. And then he left her. He left us without so much as a penny, just a house we couldn’t afford.”

  “Calm down, Abby. That’s in the past now.”

  “If not for him, if he hadn’t left, my mother wouldn’t have gone into that downward spiral. Or maybe if only he had left her some money so she could stand on her own two feet. Or if he hadn’t said those cruel words as he left.”

  “It’s all right, Abby.” Grant grips my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “I’m not going to let him hurt you.”

  I know that. Even so, I can’t help but feel afraid. I don’t ever want to see him again.

  “Are you still going to do business with him?” I ask as I wipe my tears.

  “I’m doing business with his company, not him,” Grant answers. “But you’ll never have to see him again. I’ll deal with him myself.”

  I nod.


  He pulls me into his chest again. “Shh. You’re not supposed to get yourself stressed. It’s not good for the baby.”

  “I know. I didn’t ask to be stressed, though.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry I brought you here to meet him. Why don’t you go to the mall ahead and check out some baby stuff, huh? Get whatever you want. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”

  “I think I’ll just go home.”

  I’m no longer in the mood to go shopping, my euphoria from having heard my baby’s heartbeat for the first time earlier having evaporated. It’s funny how the past can mess you up just when you think you’ve left it behind, just when everything is going perfectly.

  “All right. If that’s what you want.” Grant rubs my shoulder. “But you have to relax and not think about this anymore. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.”

  Grant squeezes me. “Trust me, Abby. Everything is going to be all right.”

  I do trust him. Even so, I can’t help but feel that a can of worms has been opened just as I can’t help but feel that I haven’t seen the last of Dennis Cooper.

  And I’m usually right about these things.

  ***

  A few days later, I get an email from Dennis. No doubt he got my address from someone in his company since I was using it for business correspondence. That’s right, business. Yet, his email has nothing to do with work at all.

  Abby,

  I’m glad to see that you are well. You have become a fine woman and found a good man. I am so proud of you.

  I know you’re mad at me, and I can’t blame you. The last time you saw me, I was shouting at your mother. I’m sorry you had to see that. I remember seeing you peeking from the kitchen with a scared expression. How I wanted to bring you with me. But I knew you would never leave your mother.

  Why did I leave her? That’s probably your biggest question. And yet, I’m sure you know the answer. You saw how your mother changed. You heard her complaints and her jealous fits. You saw the bottles of alcohol and the meds. You might have been too young to understand at the time but I’m sure you understand now.

  I had no choice but to leave your mother.

  I don’t know what lies she told you after. I expect she told you a lot. But let me tell you that I truly loved your mother and you as my own daughter. I still remember the first time I saw you. You were sitting on the window sill with a wildflower in your hair, singing your heart out even though you didn’t have an audience. I remember, too, that time when we first went to Disneyland and you were in awe of everything.