by Tia Siren
“All right, all right,” I agreed. “I'll meet you there.”
“That's the spirit,” Chris said.
The first thing I noticed when we got to The Shift that night was how hot Paige looked. She had on tight jeans that hung low on her hips and a sheer, cream-colored top, with a black lacy bra underneath it.
Chris clapped me on the shoulder. “All right, I see there will be no dragging you away from here for at least a little while,” he said, nodding towards Paige, who, fortunately, was helping someone where she should be out of ear shot. “I'm going to go chat with that girl over there. See you later.”
“Sorry I'm not a better wingman right now,” I told him, feeling apologetic. But Chris just waved off my apologies.
I watched him for a moment as he chatted, suddenly struck by the realization that I was glad to not be there, doing that anymore. I had always thought I was enjoying myself, when I was at the bar trying to pick up some random chick. You know, the thrill of the chase and all of that. But when I really thought of it, it hadn't been that much fun. The end game had been fun, maybe, but not the chase. And when I thought more about it, I wasn't even sure the end game was much fun. I preferred being with Paige, whose body I was really starting to know. It was exciting, being with her again and again. She was the sexiest girl that I'd ever been with, despite the fact she wasn't a one-night stand.
Then again, she involved just as much chase as a one-night stand, or maybe even more.
I suddenly realized I wasn't the only person eyeing up Paige. There was another dude, down at the far end of the bar, who was eyeing her even more intently, his eyes skimming her behind every time she bent down to grab a clean glass. And even when she was standing up, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
I scowled, wondering who he was and whether he knew her. I knew Paige had a past, and I bet that she'd gone home with some of the guys from the bar before. There was no reason to think that one of those guys would never show up here again. But I didn't like it.
I had to wonder why Paige was still working there, and I wondered if I could say anything about it. She didn't need to work there anymore. I had given her the first half of the money, just like the contract had stipulated. I wasn't sure I wanted her around all these guys.
But there was nothing in the contract that said she had to quit working there, she just had to take care of herself. I might be able to say something about her not getting enough sleep, but as long as she wasn't drinking, I couldn't say much to her. I frowned, wishing suddenly that I'd thought of this before I'd drawn up the contract. Now, it felt like I was overstepping if I told her I didn't want her working here anymore. Especially since I was sure part of it was she just wanted to spend time around Erica.
I wondered suddenly if I could talk to Erica, convince her that Paige shouldn't be working there anymore. But if talking to Paige was overstepping, talking to Erica about it no doubt was. Ultimately, it was Paige's decision.
Still, I couldn't seem to quit feeling unhappy about the way this guy was looking at Paige.
“Who's that guy?” I asked Paige as she came down to my end of the bar and got me a drink. She wasn't avoiding me, but she wasn't acting particularly friendly towards me, not like she used to.
Paige barely glanced over at the guy; she obviously knew who I was talking about. “He's just some guy,” she told me.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
Paige rolled her eyes. “Not that it's any of your business, but no,” she said. “He's just some drunk. He comes in here every so often.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, wondering if there wasn't more to the story than that. Because from the way the guy was staring at her, there was. Plus, it was there in the way she kept glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye. Yes, something was going on here. But it wasn't my place to pry.
“Do you want to go home with me tonight?” I suddenly asked her.
She was pouring another guy a beer, but her grip on the tap faltered for a moment. Then, she looked over at me. “Yeah,” she said.
I was surprised: I had expected her to decline. I wondered if her agreement had to do with the guy, or if it had to do with the fact that she could tell that we needed to talk about things sooner, rather than later. We couldn't keep going on like this. I couldn't keep talking to her like this around her work.
I nodded a little to myself and took a sip of my drink, continuing to watch her. She had gone back to ignoring me, but she wasn't ignoring the other guy, I realized. Instead, she kept looking at him even more, almost as though she was uneasy about his presence. I wanted to get one of the bouncers and have the guy thrown out, but I didn't know the whole story, and anyway, I was sure that they had more important things to deal with on a busy night like this.
After another half hour of watching this guy stare at her, basically drooling over her, I realized I couldn’t just let him do that. I knew it was overstepping, but I’d had enough. I approached one of the bouncers by the door. The bouncer was a big, bald man who was at least twice my size.
“Hey man,” I said.
“The fuck you want?” the bouncer asked.
I put my hands up to let him know I had no intentions to start trouble. “I just thought I’d let you know, there’s a guy sitting at the bar that is making the bartenders pretty uncomfortable. I’ve been here at least two hours, and the whole time he’s just been staring at them. They don’t even want to deal with him.”
The bouncer looked over. “Damn. I kick him out every single time he is here. I’ve got this.”
I walked back over and sat down. I hoped Paige hadn’t seen me talking to the bouncer. If she had she didn’t mention it. I watched as the bouncer escorted the guy out and Paige instantly relaxed. That really bothered me.
I didn't leave the bar for the whole night, even when Chris tried to drag me over to meet a couple women. I felt bad about it. Chris had brought me here because he needed a wingman. But he seemed to hear something in my voice or see it in my eyes, and he didn't protest.
“All right, man,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Good luck? I only hoped I wouldn't need it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paige
I was tired when I finished up at work on Thursday night. I knew it was partly that it had been busy as ever that night, but I also hadn't been sleeping that well lately. Every time I lay down, I found myself thinking about the pregnancy. Thoughts churned in my head about my relationship, or non-relationship as the case may be, with Michael. And trying to decide about moving out of the place that I shared with Erica and quitting my job at The Shift.
There was just so much changing, and I wasn't sure how to feel about any of it.
When I would finally get to sleep, I kept dreaming about Michael. They weren't all sexy dreams, although there had been a couple of those, too. Dreams that I woke up embarrassed from, aching all the way to my core, wet with desperate need. I only hoped I wasn't doing anything really embarrassing like moaning in my sleep. With just the sheets between our beds, Erica would hear me, and she would know who I was dreaming about, too.
I blushed just thinking about it.
But more-so than the sexy dreams, I'd had these sweet dreams about Michael and me. About us, far in the future, raising a family together. Those were the dreams that stuck with me after I woke up. I wasn't sure what to think about those.
Except I could remember Paige's warning when she had told me to be careful. Nine months was a long time.
But with the guy eyeing me at the end of the bar, and the fact Michael had shown up at The Shift two nights in a row and asked me to come home with him, I had to think there was something that he wasn't telling me. Maybe he was having second thoughts about the contract as well. In any case, we needed to talk. I either needed to be clear about things, ask him to stop showing up at my work, or else we needed to redefine the boundaries of our contract.
I didn't honestly kno
w which I wanted.
My feelings for him were all tangled up in my feelings for this baby. But more and more, I wondered if I was just confused about how I felt for him and the baby because I was confused about how he felt about me.
We were both quiet on the limo ride home. It was the first time we were going to spend the night together since we had found out I was pregnant, and I didn't know how to ask him what he expected. Did he want me to stay the night, or did he just want to see me? Why hadn't he called me and asked to take me to lunch or something like that? Wouldn't that be a more appropriate time to talk?
Unless he didn't plan to just talk to me.
“I didn't think we were going to be hooking up anymore,” I finally said, bluntly. We had practically just walked in the front door, and I was embarrassed at having blurted it out like that. Surely there was a more tactful way to say it.
But Michael looked amused. Then, his expression turned thoughtful. “I'd like to keep hooking up if that's okay with you,” he said. “I know you're already pregnant. But I've been enjoying spending time with you, and the sex is great. Or at least, I think it's great.”
“You're the best I've ever had,” I told him. I clapped a hand over my mouth, hoping I hadn't said that out loud. But from his amused expression, I could tell I had. I winced; surely that went beyond whatever it was we'd signed off on in the contract.
Michael didn't seem to mind, though. Instead, he grinned at me. “To be honest, you're the best I've ever had too,” he said. He looked thoughtful, and almost as though he wanted to continue that line of thought. But instead, he just asked, “Do you want something to drink?”
“I'm pregnant,” I reminded him. “I cut back on alcohol before I knew, but now I'm one hundred percent not drinking.”
“Right, I know,” Michael said. “I meant, water. I think I have some orange juice, too. Or tea.”
“Tea would be nice,” I said. I normally wasn't much of a tea drinker, but the warm drink sounded soothing, and holding the mug would give me something to do with my hands. I didn't know why I suddenly itched to do something, but the tension between us was rising.
I knew better than to keep hooking up with Michael. If we didn't this for the entire nine months of the pregnancy, there was no way I was going to be able to quit him when the baby was born. But I already knew that I was developing feelings for him, and surely another couple weeks wouldn't make my feelings for him any stronger. If it was going to hurt to have to end things with him, I might as well get as much time out of it as I could.
I trailed after Michael into the kitchen and watched as he put the kettle on to boil. We both stood there for a moment, staring at each other, lost in our separate thoughts.
I was turned on, ever since the kiss in the solarium, I realized. Which wasn’t too surprising. But I didn't know how to make the first move. It was one thing to agree that we would continue hooking up, but it was another thing entirely to define the boundaries of this relationship.
Still, with Michael standing there, leaning casually against the countertop behind him, there was no way I could keep my distance. His muscles pushed against his shirt, and I knew what was underneath. I moved towards him, stepping into his personal space, pressing myself up against him. We kissed, and I could feel him grinning against my lips. Not only that, but I could feel how hard he was already, proving he was just as turned on as I was. Good.
I dragged my hands down against his firm chest, feeling the heat radiating off him. My fingers found their way to the button on his slacks, and I popped it open. I kissed him harder as the intensity increased. Slowly, I dragged down his zipper, and then I tugged down both his slacks and his boxers.
Then, I dropped to my knees in front of him.
Michael made a quiet sound, and when I looked up at him through my lashes, I could see naked desire, clear on his face. I wrapped my hand around his thick cock and watched as his eyes slid shut for a moment before opening, darker than I'd ever seen them before.
The tile should have hurt my knees, but I could barely feel it. I leaned my head forward and swiped my tongue along the very tip of his penis. There was already precum beading there, and its salty flavor spread through my senses even as I took him deeper into my mouth. I used my hand to continue to stimulate the parts that I couldn't reach, marveling not for the first time at how large he was.
Michael's hand came down to caress my hair, not pressuring me but just resting there, a gentle weight. “Touch yourself,” he breathed out.
I moaned around his length, and it was my turn to have my eyes slide closed, as my senses overwhelmed me. Touching myself in front of him, when I was already on my knees in the middle of his kitchen, felt naughty, and I liked it. I pushed my hand down into my jeans, lightly touching my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, shivering with how good it felt. I was wet already, my panties slick against my fingertips in a way that made me blush.
“That's it,” Michael breathed. “Oh fuck, Paige. Just like that.”
I didn't know what it was about him that had me so ready to go every single time. It wasn't as though the guys I'd been with in the past had been unattractive. But I supposed that when it came to Michael, it was more than just the attraction I felt to his body. He was also genuinely caring, plus sexy, intelligent, and witty.
It was no wonder I was starting to worry about developing feelings for him. But I didn't want to think about that right now.
I swirled my tongue around his tip and then pushed back down onto him, sucking as hard as I could, hollowing my cheeks. I was rewarded with Michael's groan and the way his fingers clenched in my hair for a moment. I could tell he must be getting close, from the way his body was tensing. As much as I was enjoying this, loving the feeling of having power over his orgasm for a change, I had to admit I didn't want him to come like this. I had gotten spoiled by the feeling of him coming inside me, feeling every throb of his member, every spurt of his seed.
As though reading my mind, Michael suddenly nudged my shoulder, pushing me back. Before I had a chance to react, he pulled me to my feet and shoved my jeans and panties down. Then, he lifted me into his arms and set me down on the edge of the counter. Then, in one fluid motion, he pushed into me.
I groaned and dropped my head down to rest against his shoulder, the air punched out of my lungs. I grabbed hold of the countertop, clinging to it as Michael rocked into me with wild abandon, his movements sharp and deep.
There was something animalistic about the way he was thrusting into me, as though he couldn't be too rough with me. But there was a gentleness to the way he held on to my thighs, in the way he gently kissed my neck and jaw.
I cried out as I came, my body trembling and my pussy desperately clenching around him.
But he continued to work my body, until I was a whimpering mess of sensation, my hole slick around him. I had thought he was close when I was blowing him there on the kitchen floor, but now, he must be using every trick in the book to hold off for just a moment more. He pounded into me, sending me spiraling higher and higher, until I wasn't sure if I was still coming, or coming again, or just caught up in desperate passion.
I gasped for air, but I didn't want him to stop; I wanted this to go on forever, consuming me in this fiery feeling of pleasure. I maintained a white-knuckled grip on the cool marble, feeling as though if I let go, I would shatter into a million pieces.
It wasn't just the feeling of fullness inside of me, though. Michael's hands were as hot as branding irons against my thighs, and his mouth, where it touched my skin, ignited bursts of volcanic heat. I didn't know how much longer this could go on, but I needed this, somewhere deep in my core.
It was pleasure like I had never known before, and I screamed out his name in ecstasy.
Michael came as well, his whole body shaking against mine as he hoarsely cried out my name. As with me, he seemed to hang suspended in the sensation of bliss for a long moment. Even afterward, he just stood there, panting harshly. Then,
he pulled away from me, his eyes dark and serious.
He didn't say a single word, though. Instead, he merely caught my hand, bringing it up to his mouth and lightly tracing his lips over my rapidly-fluttering pulse point. I was sure my heart was beating loudly enough that he could hear it, as it shouted all the things I was too afraid to say out loud.
It was at that moment that I realized how difficult it would be to give this up.
I turned my face away from his searching eyes, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes. The sudden thought struck me that this was like one of those fairy tales. The girl has everything right in her life, but eventually, it all comes crashing down. There wouldn't be a happily ever after to this story.
Michael tugged me gently, helping me down from the countertop and pulling me into his arms, as though he understood exactly what I was thinking. Somewhere behind me, the kettle whistled, signaling that the water was ready for tea. But I knew now that no amount of tea could comfort the ache inside me; no amount of tea could warm me in the way his arms did.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Michael
Paige and I still hadn't talked, and I was kicking myself for it. I needed to know why she had been acting so strangely toward me. At least I had been upfront with her about my desire to continue hooking up; that was a start. I grinned, thinking back to last night's kitchen antics. Man, what a good start.
At least, until I'd caught sight of her face afterward. I could tell something was upsetting her, and I knew we needed to talk about it. But right after sex, when we were both blissed out and tired and altogether not thinking clearly, I didn't think it was the best time. Instead, I had led Paige into the bedroom, and we had finished stripping off our clothes. Then, we had wordlessly climbed into bed, and I had pulled her into my arms.