PREGNANT FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  The first moment my cock enters her pussy, I’m in heaven. It’s hot, tight, and wet. It’s hotter than fire, hotter than the glare of the sun. It’s the hottest thing I’ve touched. My cocky is large, and her pussy is tight, but there’s no resistance. She’s soaking wet, the wetness sliding down my cock, and her spit is still on it too. I slide into her, and she sits lower on me until I am buried deep inside her, and her ass is crushing my balls.

  “Fuck,” she sighs, looking down at me. “Fuck, you’re so big. You’re hitting something no man has before, Maddox.”

  “Good,” I breathe.

  Then she unleashes herself upon me. I have never seen such a wild, untamed woman: a woman who differs so much from her non-sexual self. She kneels up so that I slide out of her, and then sits down again, hard. She bounces like this, working my cock, up and down. I am too stunned by her to move at first. I stare down at her pussy, shaved and tight, my cock sliding in and out. I stare at her lips, closing around my cock, as though they are trying to crush it.

  She grabs my wrists and leads my hands around to her ass. “Grab it, hard!” she cries, bouncing.

  I realize I’m moaning just as loud as her. I squeeze her ass cheeks. Fuck, they’re round, tight, and perfect. They’re the bounciest fucking things in existence. I bury my fingers deep in her ass cheeks as she bounces, riding me, making me hers. A woman is doing what she wants in bed? And it’s amazing? What is happening?

  She bounces on me so hard now that my balls scream out at me. My cock is getting hotter by the second. I think I might explode, but not yet, not yet… Fuck, that tight, shaved pussy. Fuck, that fresh face. Fuck, this ass made to grab.

  “Spank me!” she screams. “Fuck! Fuck! Spank me!”

  I don’t need to be asked twice. I bring my hand back and spank her ass cheek. Thwack! Hard enough to leave a handprint. I spank her over and over, all the while her fingernails are digging into my shoulders, and she’s riding me harder than I’ve ever been ridden, riding like her life depends on it. I watch her pussy, my cock, and I know when she’s cumming because her pussy gets even tighter…

  “Fu—fu—fu—fuckkkk!” she squeals. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh, Maddox, fuck! Keep spanking me! Keep spanking me—”

  I spank her again, as hard as I can, and her voice gets quiet, breathless, as she squirts on my cock, again and again, her orgasm releasing in full force. Her body writhes and twists as her orgasm rocks her; her fingernails dig into my so hard that I feel blood matted against my t-shirt. But I don’t care. I keep spanking her. And then she reaches around and leads my hands to her breasts.

  I pull down her dress and bra to reveal two small, pert breasts. Her nipples are hard, so fucking hard.

  “Suck them,” she pants, both of us sweating, bouncing, bouncing. “Suck them!”

  I bury my face against her breasts, taking her hard nipples in my mouth. They’re so fucking hard. She’s so fucking hot. She knows what she wants. She knows how to ride. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Fuck, she’s hot. Fuck, I’m going to—

  “Do it!” she cries. “Cum for me, Maddox!”

  Her nipple in my mouth, my hands grasping her ass, I cum inside of her.

  I cum harder than I thought possible. The force of it is astonishing. It starts at the bottom of my balls, and then fills and fills until it bursts up the base of my shaft and finally into her. For twenty seconds I cum, it’s shooting out of me, and then when it’s done, I let my head fall back, a smile on my face.

  She’s different. If I needed further proof, there it is. Eden is different to the others.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  We sit on the floor, side by side. My jeans are pulled back up, and her dress is smoothed out, but I imagine I look as disarrayed as her, that my face is as tired and content as hers. She rests her head on my shoulder, and it feels so natural I don’t once think about pushing her away. Not like with other women, who I’d never tolerate being this close.

  “Wow,” she says, after a long pause.

  “Wow,” I agree. “I didn’t know you’d be so…”

  “Forward?” she offers.

  “Yeah, forward,” I agree, my voice lazy.

  “I went a bit wild,” she admits. “I just couldn’t help it—”

  “You wanted me too badly.”

  She giggles. “Do you always have to be so cocky?”

  “Not cocky, Red. It’s just a fact.”

  “I guess so,” she sighs. “Yeah, fine, I wanted you badly. Is that a crime?”

  “No,” I laugh. “Not even close.”

  I won a woman over with my programming skills. I’m hardly able to conceive it. Not with my fists or my bike or any of that. I won her over with my skill as a programmer. She doesn’t know it was me, sure, but I did it, and she was so happy she… she must’ve been working on this for a long time. She must’ve been hungry for it. And it was worth it. Damn, well worth it.

  “Good,” she says. “But don’t expect me to be like that all the time. This was a…” She trails off, and then I feel her shrug from the movement of her cheek against my shoulder. “This was a special occasion, I guess you could call it.”

  I wrack my mind for an excuse to see her again, for anything I can take her to. This week is going to be busy, with jobs Monday through Friday, as well as the billionaire’s Silicon Valley party on Saturday. Then a thought occurs to me, and I decide to run with it. Why not? If I truly believe that Eden is different – and I do, I really do – why shouldn’t I treat her differently than other women?

  I jump to my feet. She darts her head away, startled, and stares up at me. “Going somewhere?” she asks.

  “Not far,” I reply. “Wait here, okay?”

  She throws that pouty expression. “Maybe I’ll go,” she says. “Maybe I’m done with you now you’ve given me what I want.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Sexy, funny, and crazy in bed?

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line, isn’t it? But then, you’d know. You’re the feminist.”

  I unlock the office door, go to the bar, and kneel down to the safe. Then I enter the code and take out a wad of cash, about two thousand dollars in twenties, bound together with a rubber band. I return to the office and close and lock the door behind me.

  Eden is sitting at the desk, typing on the keyboard. When I enter, she leans back in my chair. “I think I like this chair,” she says. “It makes me feel like the boss.”

  I smile. “Careful, Red. Don’t make me wrestle you out of it.”

  I walk around the desk, standing over her, and then drop the wad of bills in her lap. “I want you to come to a party with me on Saturday. It’s a fancy party. Black tie. I want you to buy the nicest dress you can find. A dress that really highlights your figure.”

  Eden picks up the wad of bills, which is almost as big as her fist and weighs it. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah. Give me your phone number, and I’ll text you my driver’s info and the time.”

  She looks up at me. “You can’t buy me, Maddox.”

  I stare down into her eyes, and I must look intense because her eyes flit around the room. “Not buy,” I say. “Spoil. Tell me you don’t want to be spoiled.”

  She moves her fingers over the money. “How much is here?”

  “Enough to make you look even sexier. Now, what’s your number?”

  I see the moment she accepts that she wants to be spoiled. Her lips twitch, and her eyes look afresh at the money. Then she nods; a small movement.

  “Okay, Maddox,” she says. “I’ll give you my number. I’ll come to the party.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Eden

  I take Nat to a dress shop we’ve only joked about visiting before.

  It’s situated close to the high-flying, Hollywood-Hills houses, the types of houses where women with more cash than sense can do whatever the hell they want. Nat and I have driven past this dress shop many times, smiled at each other, and laughed.

  “When our game is a h
it, we’ll be able to buy all the dresses we want,” Nat jokes as we pass.

  “Oh, yeah, I agree. “We’ll be able to buy the entire store.”

  But we both know that’s foolishness. It’s too expensive.

  Or perhaps not, I think, the cash pressing against my thigh in my jeans pocket.

  “Where are we going?” Nat asks, as my car chugs through LA. The sun is high, and the sky is blue. Attractive, plastic-surgery-laden women walk tiny groomed dogs, in heels, talking on cell phones. They scowl at my old beat-up Ford as we pass.

  “It’s a surprise,” I say.

  “Oh.” She pauses, and then bursts out with, “I can’t believe our game is working. A friend of the biker’s, you said? But he won’t tell you who it is? We need to find out who it is. If we did, we could easily add the new features before the deadline. You’d finish your dissertation in time. Hey, we might even get money from a big studio to work on a larger project. You never know.”

  “Hmm,” I reply, dancing away from the question. “I don’t want to bring on a stranger.”

  “We’ve brought on artists, voice actors—”

  “Contractors, but a coder? Someone who’s actually tampering with the game? I don’t know, maybe, but what if he didn’t share our ideas? What if he caused problems? I’d rather keep the game as is—”

  “Without the sub-level, and the boss at the end?”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “But we’ve already paid for the voice and art,” Nat mutters. “Wouldn’t that be a waste?”

  I sigh, turning a corner. “I suppose it would,” I agree. “But still, it’s better than having some friend of a biker tampering with it. But I’ll think about it, okay?”

  Nat shrugs and turns back to the road. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

  “I need to buy a dress,” I say.

  “Oh!” Suddenly she brightens up. “For the party Mr. Maddox has invited you to?”

  A smile twitches the corner of my lips against my will. Thinking of Maddox brings confusion, but it also brings a warm lust and happiness. What the hell came over me in his office? I ask myself, for perhaps the twelfth time. I went wild, that’s what happened. I’ve never gone wild like that before, not with any other man. I was just so ecstatic from the game working, and then I looked at his handsome face, his strong body, and I needed it. Needed it, like I never have before. My pussy still aches from it, but it’s a soothing, content ache: a two-day, a that-was-awesome ache.

  “Yes, for the party.”

  “Fine, fair enough,” Eden says, her chirpy voice uncertain, “but around here? There’s only one dress shop I know around… No! Eden!” She taps the dashboard with her fingernails. “What the heck?”

  I pull out the front of the dress shop. It sits on a long, thin street beside a jewelry store, which probably holds enough goods to buy twenty mansions. The front of the jewelry store glitters in the morning sunlight, reflecting the light of its wares into the street. The dress store is closed off to the world; red curtains are pulled across the windows, making it look like somewhere secret, somewhere elite. The open sign on the door is tiny, giving the impression that you have to know this store before entering. As though you have to be friends with the person who owns it.

  I climb out of the car, and Nat turns to me, mouth opening into an O. “Are you serious?” she gasps. “Here? How are you going to afford that? I hate to remind you, Eden, but you’re a grad student. I didn’t realize you had money coming out of the wazoo.” Her nose crinkles and she squints at me, and then she nods. “Ah,” she says.

  “Ah?” I ask, leaning on the roof of the car. “What’s ah?”

  She grins. “I think I’ve figured it out. Maddox is paying for the dress, isn’t he?”

  I’m about to lie, but then I stop myself. Nat is my friend, and I don’t lie to her. Still, the desire to lie is there, and it’s curious. It takes me a second to pinpoint the reason. Of course. I don’t want Nat to think I’m the sort of woman who can be bought with a dress. But is that because I know I’m not, or I fear that I might be?

  “Yes, he is,” I say, watching for her reaction.

  Nat just giggles, as she often does, and then gestures toward the shop. “You should go in first,” she says. “You know, just in case they have any traps to stop the masses coming in. What if they have salary detectors and a trapdoor opens on the floor if you’re not rich enough? What if they have dogs?”

  “You are a strange lady, Natalie. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Many people, yes. Too many, in fact. I’m starting to wonder if they’re right.”

  “They absolutely are,” I say. “Now, shall we?”

  Together we walk toward the dress shop, famed across LA for its fashion and its prices. I know it’s where some of the red-carpet debutantes buy their dresses, where some of the reality-TV stars shop. Buy the nicest dress you can find. A dress that highlights your figure. Maddox’s words replay in my mind.

  My annoying inner voice mutters, Are you really going to play dress up for a man? You, Eden Chase, a feminist and a gender theory student, are going to play dress up for a man!

  I ignore the voice, and in a moment I’m pushing open the door. A bell rings – much like the bell that signaled Maddox’s entrance into my life – and a stick-thin, plastic-faced lady emerges from the back.

  ***

  The woman wears a tight black jacket, a shirt open at the collar, and tight suit pants, with heels so high it’s a wonder she can walk on them. Six inches at least. She’s so tall she even looks down on me, and I’ve always thought I was tall. In her hand, she holds a clipboard, and a pen is slotted behind her ear. Her hair is pitch-black and bound up in an intricate cone pattern. She walks out from a red-curtained room at the back and into the greater shop, which is less glamorous than I expected: just a series of racks and dresses set within a golden-wallpapered room.

  “Can I help you?” she says, looking from me to Nat, from Nat to me, as though we are aliens. If her face was not so plastic, I’m sure she’d be frowning. The only indication that she’s discomforted is the way she taps her clipboard and a minute tic of her eyes.

  “I’m here to buy a dress,” I say, looking the woman straight in the eye.

  The woman tilts her head. “Um…” She looks at Nat so intently that Nat shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet. “This is a very expensive store,” she offers. “Maybe you’ve come in by mistake?”

  “Now why would you say that?” I snap, anger blooming in my chest. “That’s a tad presumptuous.”

  “I mean no offense,” the woman says. “It’s just that… Well, you don’t look like our usual clientele.”

  “If it helps, I can leave and return with a little handbag poodle,” I say.

  Nat hides a snigger behind her hand.

  The woman looks me up and down: at my faded jeans, my old black boots, and then up to my loose tank top and strappy bra. Then she looks at Nat, who’s dressed in a simple off-white dress, with little images of dogs at the hem. She lets out a sigh between Botox-inflated lips. “The cheapest dress is seven-hundred dollars,” she says.

  I reach into my pocket and take out the wad of bills, a wad so large that the rubber band that holds it in place is frayed and almost snapped. I toss it from one hand to the other. “That won’t be a problem,” I say. “Now, can we browse, or is there some special etiquette I don’t know about?”

  The woman’s demeanor changes in a second. One second her nose is raised, and her eyes peer down the length of it at me. The next she drops her gaze, relaxes her body, and looks at me eye-level. “Oh, of course you can browse,” she says. “And if you need anything, I am here to help.”

  “Fantastic!” Nat cries, dancing to the closest rack.

  Fantastic, I think, following her. It’s amazing the difference a wad of cash can make.

  ***

  “I wish I were going to this party,” Nat laments as we go up and down the aisles. The
dresses, I have to admit, are beautiful. I’m not usually a dress-wearing kind of girl – a loose summer dress, or a casual skirt, maybe – but never a full-on party dress. But as I run my hands across the fabrics, the sparkling beads and elegant cuts, I feel like a little girl.

  “I bet it’ll be boring,” I say. “Just a bunch of bikers running around drinking whiskey and starting fights. By the end of the night, I’ll have a black eye. I’ll probably wake up in hospital.”

  Nat pouts at me. “Yeah right,” she says. “It’s at a billionaire’s mansion, you said. I bet it’s going to be amazing. I can’t believe it. Really, I can’t. No offense, but you meet a biker—what, three days ago? You meet a biker, and he takes you on a ride and now you’re going to a party many people would kill to be invited to. How does that happen?”