by LK Collins
“Like this?” I ask and step out of my shoes. He begins to snaps pictures of my every move. Reaching down, I grip the hem of my tank top and pull it over my head as the shutter clicking echoes through the air.
“What next?” I ask him.
“Pants,” he says, releasing the button on his jeans at the same time as I release mine. He yanks the zipper down, exposing his hard shaft to me and making my mouth water all over again. I move slowly, allowing him to take as many pictures as he wants.
Fuck, I really love everything about him.
“Now?” I ask once I’m down to just a bra and panties.
“You choose.”
“Really?” He nods and grips his shaft in one hand slowly stroking as I slide my bra off, drop it to the floor, and then turn to slide my panties down my legs, making sure to bend slowly at the waist as I do so. He keeps taking pictures, capturing my every move.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
I smile as I straighten and turn to walk toward him, urging him to sit on the couch so I can straddle him.
“Are you getting this?” I ask and slowly lower myself down around him. The camera keeps snapping, giving me my answer.
He groans the way he always does when we have sex, and once he is buried all the way inside me, I rest my hands back on his thighs and begin to move.
My pussy is tight, and his big cock has me stretched so wide. Parks takes the camera and holds it above his head, snapping a few more photos before setting it on the couch next to us and gripping my hips as he barrels himself in and out of me.
I scream wildly, the pleasure racing through me is so intense I could already come. He has his eyes on the point where our bodies connect, and I look down watching it, too, but the vision is too much to handle, and I clench my pussy tightly, fighting the orgasm that he is pulling from me.
“God, yes,” I cry, feeling the bliss race through my limbs.
“Let go and cum on my cock, baby,” he orders me, and I lose my breath. My body spirals into an orgasmic obscurity. Relishing in my release, I feel the warm pumps of his cum enter my body, sending me a sudden reminder that the baby I am carrying is not his. My pleasure quickly turns to agony. I try to fight it, not wanting to ruin this moment, but the tears spill from my eyes and Parks stops, alarmed by my sudden change in demeanor.
21
Parks
I grip onto her body tightly. Afraid to ask what is wrong. Her sobs won’t stop, and I’m actually terrified that I’ve hurt her or that maybe she regrets this. I always knew if I somehow got lucky enough to have her that it wouldn’t last, and that fear is what kept me quiet for so many years. When you love someone the way I love Fallon, you put them first, knowing your own feelings don’t matter as long as they are happy. So right now, I take a deep breath and ask, “What’s wrong?”
She tries to talk to me through a sob, but I can’t clearly make out her words.
“Baby . . .” I cup her cheek, but her crying gets worse.
Her green eyes are glazed over and red as she confesses, “I wish the baby was yours.”
“The baby is mine. I told you that doesn’t matter to me.” Placing my hand over her stomach, I try to will her to really understand what I’m about to say. “I’m gonna raise this child as my own . . . end of story.” And I mean every word I say.
“Thank you for everything,” she tells me clutching her hand over top of mine. Her words settle my stomach. Thank God she is not having regrets.
“We are going to give the baby so much love it’ll probably hate us. And then you add our parents, and we’ll have the luckiest kid in the world.”
“You promise it doesn’t bother you at all?” Another tear drops from her eyelashes, and I use my thumb to wipe it away.
“Fallon, as long as I have you, everything else is a bonus. I don’t think you know what it was like to be in love with you for as long as I have been and not be able to tell you.”
I move my cock, which is still hard inside her, a little, and she smiles.
“I love you, Fallon.”
“I love you and your cock,” she tells me with a grin and slips her fingers into the back of my hair. I kiss her with so much damn love my heart hurts and start to rock my hips. I don’t think I could ask for anything more. Even with the baby being Leo’s, hearing that she wishes it were mine feels really good. And from this moment forward, I am going to live as though that child is mine. After all, it’s what we both want.
“So you do this with a lot of other girls?” We are both naked in my dark room, developing our pictures I took earlier.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What? It’s a valid question.”
“I’ve never taken pictures with anyone else before.”
“No?”
“Nope.” I honestly answer, and she smirks, standing across from me with a satisfied expression across her face. She has no clue what life was like before us. I could barely come when I was with other girls and honestly . . . I wasn’t even really into it.
“Have you ever had a client ask you to take pictures of them in lingerie or anything?”
“I had a woman once ask me to do it for her husband’s birthday.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, I was just starting out and needed the money.”
“Did it turn you on?”
“Far from it. She was no Fallon Wrenshaw if you know what I mean.” Even with the light in here being so dim, I can see the pleased smirk that comes across her face. “Okay, now we’ll move them to this tray,” and we both grab our tongs to lift the pictures by the corners and slide them over.
“Why do you still develop pictures like this?” she asks as she watches the white sheets of paper bring a vision of what was captured to life.
“I don’t know. There’s something satisfying about developing my own pictures. The clarity you get with this type of development is unreal.”
“But you don’t do this with all of them, do you?”
“No, just my favorites,” I smirk, and she cutely pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s why I bought her two cameras so she could experience it, too. “Now, hang them here,” I tell her, and we both attach our pictures to the drying rack. Then I stalk toward her, needing to fulfill another one of my fantasies.
Her eyes scan my body before focusing on my hard cock bobbing with every step. Then in one swift swoop, I lift her off the floor and bury myself deep inside her.
“Jesus, you’re always wet,” I tell her and walk us to one of the bare walls so I can pin her against something.
“I’m wet for you.”
Damn right she is. I grip on to both of her ass cheeks and smash into her tight pussy. She is wrapped around me like a goddamn vice, and my balls are tight, already wanting to blow.
She moans with each thrust, and I love her noises. “Yes, let me hear you,” I say, urging her louder.
My movements are swift and long, pulling my cock almost all the way out of her before slamming back in. Each time she gasps, resting so sexily on the wall. And as we fuck, good and hard, the doorbell chimes.
“Who the fuck is that?”
I shake my head, not having a clue. My body is buzzing, so close to letting go that I start to move again. “Aren’t you gonna answer is?” she whispers, and I shake my head. My orgasm is at my fingertips, fuck whoever is there. I drop my head to her shoulder and push deep, exploding right as the doorbell rings again.
“Fuck!” I gripe, milking myself into her. I’m more pissed than satisfied as I slide from her and gently place her feet back on the floor.
“Parks, you need to answer it, I’m a mess.” She’s already moving to the door of the room, so I follow her to pull on a pair of sweats.
“Coming?” I call out when the doorbell chimes again. I swear to God, if it’s a sales person, I’ll smack them around. I yank open the door, angrily and am startled when I see both Fallon’s mom and my mother standing there. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?
”
I have no shirt on, and they look confused. As I let them in, I curse to myself for our clothes that are lying all over the living room.
“We came to talk to you about the party for your father and Roger’s birthdays,” my mom tells me.
I pick up the clothes as our mothers take a seat and I move to my bedroom to put a shirt on.
“Is Fallon here?” her mom, Claire, asks as I re-enter the room.
“Yeah, she’ll be right out.”
“Is she okay?”
“Of course.” I laugh awkwardly, never having my mom walk in on me mid-fucking. Then realize she’s referring to the whole Leo thing. “Can I get either of you something to drink?” They both decline just as Fallon thankfully enters the living room, all dressed and gives me a what-the-fuck look when she sees our moms here. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks and hugs them before she and I squeeze onto the love seat together.
“We came to talk about your dads’ birthday.”
Our fathers’ birthdays are on the same day, so every year we usually do a barbecue at one of the houses, but seeing as this is their sixtieth, I know our moms want to do something special. Naturally, I wrap my hand around Fallon’s and sense their eyes draw to it, as they aren’t used to seeing us together, and I get that. But, this it just something they’ll have to get used to.
“They seemed happy.”
“After they got past the pile of clothes in the living room and me half naked, they were good.”
She laughs, watching me dry myself off from a shower. I still can’t believe that she is in my bed . . . and all mine.
“I feel bad for lying to them,” she tells me.
“About what?” I question her.
“The baby. They should know.”
“You didn’t really lie; you just haven’t told them, yet. Plus, didn’t the doctor say that a lot of people wait until after the first trimester to tell people?”
“She did.” Fallon bites her thumbnail, giving away her indecision. “They are so happy for us, though. When they find out the baby is Leo’s—”
“They’ll understand,” I tell her.
“What if I don’t ever want anyone to know the truth?”
Softly, I set my towel on the counter and search for the right response before I slip beneath the covers with her, cupping her cheek in my right hand. “You need to really think about what you’re saying.”
“I have been . . . a lot and Leo doesn’t deserve to know. I mean look what he did to that other girl. It could’ve been me.”
“Babe, I hate Leo. He’s an egotistical piece of shit that didn’t deserve you, but I worry that if you don’t ever tell him, you’ll have regrets later on in life. Plus, don’t you think this baby deserves to know his real father?”
“A father isn’t in the DNA,” she scoffs at me a little pissed off. “Being a father is in the love and support a man shows the baby, and that’ll come from you.”
“I told you that I’ll always treat this child as if it were my own. But part of that comes with us making the right decisions. I’m not saying that you should tell him. What I’m saying is that you should really think about it. If I were him, I would want to know that I was a father, even if I didn’t deserve to know. Does that make sense?”
“But that’s you, Parks. Not Leo, I know how he is.” It makes me sick to think of what would happen if Leo actually wanted to be part of the baby’s life.
I rest my hand over top of her lower tummy, and she turns her body so I am spooning her. As I hold her tightly, I close my eyes and wish the child were mine, so we didn’t even have to entertain having Leo in the picture. Unfortunately, that is not our reality, so we have to make the right choices for everyone. But sometimes the right choice and the easy choice are hard to pick between.
22
Fallon
I’m still wrapped tightly in Parks’ hold when I wake, which is something I’ve quickly grown to love. I never imagined in a million years this is where we would be, but . . . seeing as how right everything feels, I couldn’t be more settled with our decision.
Quietly, I slip away so I can pee and as I do so, I try not to wake him. He rolls to his back, stretching his huge arm over the top of his head as he readjusts himself. God, he’s so sexy.
After I finish in the bathroom, I pull one of his T-shirts from a hanger in his closet and slip it on. It smells like him even though it’s been washed. His scent is a heady concoction of the crisp ocean and fresh air.
I open the back door to his condo and rest my arms against the balcony. He really does have the best view of Seattle, but this morning, it’s especially calming. As I stand here and look out at the busy world around me, each person in it with their own stories and problems, my hand moves down to my stomach. I try to visualize how motherhood will be. How it will be to take care of a child. Thinking of the responsibility reminds me of the discussion Parks and I had before bed last night. I meant every word I said. I don’t think I ever want to tell Leo. I mean, he’s probably still in jail for what he did to that girl and will be for a long time.
Closing my eyes, I let all the stress release from my body, but I’m startled by Parks. “I don’t like waking up without you,” he grumbles into my ear before kissing my neck.
“Sorry, you were passed out hard.”
“Doesn’t make it okay for you to leave my bed,” he says jokingly and runs his fingers through his messy hair, knowing it’s one of the sexiest things he does.
“Then it won’t happen again.”
“Good. Why are you out here?” he asks, one of his hands continuously roaming my body, causing his cock to grow against my ass.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?” his voice is deep, heating my insides and I know just where this is headed.
“I’ve made my decision, and I’m not telling Leo. This baby is ours—end of story.” As he processes my words, his cock softens and his demeanor changes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, more sure than I’ve ever been about anything in my entire life.”
“Then I’ll support you, but—” I cut him off, raising my hand to signal him to stop. It’s what is right. I realized that even if Parks weren’t in the picture and I was still in this situation, I wouldn’t tell Leo. Maybe that makes me selfish, but when I think about this baby and imagine what would happen if I told Leo and he ever put his hands on this baby in anger . . . I’d lose it.
I forgave him pushing me that one time. Heck, I even excused his cheating. But even the thought of the possibility of him touching this child in anger sends murderous rage through me. The only way to really ensure that never happens is to never tell Leo.
“I need to do this, Parks.”
He nods, agreeing with me because it is the right decision. I’ve said it before. It doesn’t matter what’s in the DNA; it’s in the love of the family. Together we are going to give this baby everything it could ever want and more. I find confidence in the decision, as I remind myself what Leo did to that poor girl and to me. I won’t put my child in that situation—ever. My mission is to protect this baby with everything I have.
As Parks and I hike a new trail that we explored and photographed today, he has a tight grip on my hand. The warm sun is on our backs, and as we enter a clearing, I spot a hummingbird floating from flower to flower. Stopping, I let go of his hand and bring my camera to my eye. He gently holds my shoulders, reminding me to stay relaxed and not so stiff.
I zoom in and snap a few pictures, capturing the bird moving in its natural habitat. And as quick as I got the photos, the tiny bird is gone.
“Get any good ones?” I nod and turn the camera so he can see them.
“Hell yeah,” he exclaims. “The shot of the hummingbird will sell in a day.”
“I still can’t believe you sell these for close to a hundred dollars a piece.”
“Well, I do and so will you.”
Parks has space at a few local shop
s and art galleries. He said it is really where the bulk of his income comes from.
“God, I love you.” He kisses my neck.
“I love you,” I tell him and let my camera hang as he holds me close. “Today has been fun.”
“It has, huh?” I nod, and he wraps his hand around mine as we make our way back to his truck.
“What are you going to get your dad for his birthday?” I ask Parks, as we load our gear. The thought of their birthdays has been looming in the back of my mind, making me stress as I feel I need to spill the news of the baby prior to the party.
“Shit, I don’t have a clue. You?”
“I don’t know. Guys are so hard to shop for.”
“No, we aren’t. What if we bought them matching barbecue grills.”
“That’s what I got my dad for Christmas. You were there, don’t you remember?”
“Uhhh, nope. I was probably somewhere between bailing to save myself from salivating over you or considering saying screw it all and forcing you to your knees.”
“Is that really what you used to think about?”
“My mind was all fucked up . . . it still is.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just waiting for the day you get sick of me and run out.”
“Ha! Not happening, mister.”
“No?”
“No way!”
He looks at me, studying my every detail. Then he runs his thumb over my bottom lip and says, “I think I have the perfect idea for them.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he digs through a bag of props he always seems to have in his truck. I watch, waiting for him to find what he’s looking for, which ends up being a chalkboard and a piece of chalk
“What’s this for?” I ask curiously.
“Let’s tell our dads about the baby on there, and then we’ll take a photograph of us holding it.”