I had no idea how long Austin and Brady were out in the garage, but I’d been asleep for what felt like hours when I felt a body slide into the bed next to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Mmmmm, hi honey,” I said, snuggling in. I realized I hadn’t said a name not because I didn’t know who it was; it was obviously Brady. I didn’t say a name because I didn’t know for sure who I wanted it to be. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Before long, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Six
I walked into my mom and stepdad’s house at a time I knew they were both working. I opened the basement door and called down.
“Austin? Are you there?” He didn’t answer right away, but I knew he was there; his bike was in the driveway. “Austin!”
“Hey, yeah, I’m here, what?” He came around the basement stairs wiping his hands on a dirty rag and grinned when he saw me. “Well, hello there,” he said.
“Can I come down?” I asked.
“Of course!” He stepped back from the stairs and gestured to the living space. “My home is your home.”
I stomped down the stairs and stood in front of him. We were only a few inches apart, but, because of our height difference of nearly nine inches, my face stared at his chest unless I looked up. Which I did. I looked up into his eyes… and I slapped him. Hard.
“What the fuck!” he swore, rubbing at his cheek. “What’d you do that for?”
“That’s for coming into my house and toying with my husband and me.” I reached my hand back to slap him again, about to say that the second was for suggesting that we should continue our affair, but he caught my hand.
“Don’t slap me again,” he warned. “It hurts.”
“Don’t slap me,” I whined, mimicking him. “It hurrrts.”
He came over to me quickly and, before I could react, he had pulled my hands behind my back. He pulled them down and I felt my spine arch, lifting my face to his. He kissed me. His lips were hot, salty, and firm on my mouth and I, like the times before, lost both my breath and my common sense as he slid his tongue through my teeth.
“Does this hurt?” he said, referring to his grip on my wrists. Not only did it not hurt, I noticed; the feeling of being somewhat trapped, unable to scramble away, was turning me on even more than I could have ever imagined.
“No,” I said. I lifted my chest into him and slid my breasts across his stomach.
“That shirt has to go,” he said. He released my arms and I lifted my shirt off without a thought. I’d worn a bra this time, a red and black lace demi bra that showed the tops of my breasts down to just above where my nipples began. He whistled, then began to finger one of the straps, moving it between his thumb and index finger. “You sure know how to tease a guy.”
I collapsed my chest a bit and rounded my shoulders, so my breasts would set together and give him an even better view.
“I came here to get really angry at you,” I said. “I did not come here to have sex with you.” Even I didn’t totally believe that last part, I realized. Why had I worn the sexiest bra I owned, along with matching panties? Because I was coming to bitch out Austin, and I knew the heat between us, especially when we were arguing, would be too much for me.
“You keep thinking that, sweetheart, while I fuck your brains out, okay? It’ll give you something to do while I ravage you.” He pulled off his own shirt and I took a deep breath at the sight of his chiseled, defined chest. He unhooked my bra and pulled me close, my nipples erect against his hot chest.
He kissed me again and I began to undo his jeans. I yanked them down and dropped to my knees, taking him in my mouth. I moved my head up and down, forward and back, as he fucked my mouth. I had never felt more aroused. I sucked his cock, running my tightly clenched lips, wrapped around my teeth, up and down his shaft. He groaned loudly and pre-cum appeared, glistening, on the head of his cock. I lapped it up like it was the ice cream dessert we’d had the other night. I stopped and looked up at him. He looked down at me questioningly.
“Just kidding,” I said, grinning up at him.
“You’re such a bitch,” he growled. He grabbed my head and directed me back to his cock. I took it willingly, twisting my tongue around the head and using my hands to glide his shaft forward and back as fast as I could. His breath picked up and he began to moan. “Yes,” he whispered, “Oh, fuck, yes!” He grabbed my head and spread his legs wider, stabilizing himself. He pushed my mouth deeper onto his cock and I took his full length into my mouth, almost deep throating him. I moved my head around enough so I didn’t gag, and mentally thanked my ancestors for a slow gag reflex.
His cum shot into my mouth, hot and salty, and he thrust as he groaned, pumping himself into me. I swallowed, then sat back on my knees and looked up at him.
“Come here, you gorgeous thing,” he said, lifting me up and smiling. He nuzzled his mouth in my hair and kissed my ear. “Get comfortable on my bed, baby,” he said. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. “You want one?” he asked, holding out the bottle.
I hesitated. I’d promised Brady, a promise which seemed absolutely ludicrous to keep given the set of circumstances I found myself in, but, at least there was one promise I could keep.
“No,” I said. “But I am going to borrow your toothbrush.”
I met him back in the bedroom. He had actually cleaned it up a bit since the last time I’d been in there, and he had lit a candle on the nightstand.
“How romantic,” I said, smiling. “For me?”
“For you, for whoever,” he said, grinning at me. I threw my pillow at him and he ducked, then grabbed my arm and pulled me into bed with him. His breath smelled deliciously of beer and I kissed him. I felt for his cock and noticed it hard, standing away from his body.
“Ready again so soon?” I asked.
“What can I say,” he said, “I’m young.”
“That’s not all you are,” I said and climbed on top of him. “Whoa, hey there,” he said as I drove myself down onto his cock. I didn’t move, just stayed and felt the sensation of his fullness inside me.
“Hey yourself,” I said. I put my hands on his chest and I began to move, rocking forward and back on his cock as I clinched the muscles of my vaginal wall to squeeze him inside me.
He watched my breasts, swaying as I moved, and he put his hands on my hips. I arched my back again and put my hands on his thighs, locked my knees down, and rode him. I closed my eyes, thrusting and pulsing against him, feeling him groan with each move.
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck that feels so fucking good!”
The attention to my clit was under my control, and I dropped myself forward onto him and began to rub my clit against him as we continued to fuck. I began to feel the signs of my own orgasm in the periphery of my sights. It was only a few more moments before the heat overwhelmed me and I felt myself dropping into the feeling of flying, of total weightlessness and ecstasy, that signified my climax. I cried out and continued to move, my orgasm growing in intensity until he grabbed my hips hard and stopped my motion. He jerked his hips up and came hard, yelling as he did so, another energy release.
His grip on my hips was so tight I thought I might have bruises, but it all felt so good I couldn’t stop.
When we were finished, I rolled off of him, sweating and breathless.
“This is so wrong,” I said. “It’s so very, very wrong.”
“Can’t be wrong when it feels so fucking amazing,” he said.
I put my hands over my eyes. “So wrong.”
He rolled over and pulled one of my hands away. “Hey,” he said. “We’ve got an attraction to each other. We’re not related by blood. It’s okay.” He laid back. “Actually, it’s more than okay; it’s fucking incredible.”
I laid there for a while and then knew I needed to get home.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said, standing up and picking up my close.
“Shucks,” he said. “I was hoping I could get you to come.” He lean
ed up on one elbow and grinned at me. His tattooed bicep was still slick with sweat.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, grinning at him. “Those lines might work on your other girlfriends, but they won’t work on me.”
“Already did, babe; they already did.”
Chapter Seven
It was a few weeks later that I took the pregnancy test. I had been feeling queasy and I was over a week late, but it still took me another full week before I was willing to actually take the test. I did it by myself, when Brady was at work.
On TV, women leave the stick turned over or whatever and don’t look at it, too afraid or too emotional. The other thing that happens on TV is that the stick actually takes the full three minutes or whatever to turn. I peed on the stick and looked at it; the plus sign was already forming, a bright pink crisscross on the white spongy backdrop.
A smile spread across my face. Pregnant, I thought. Cancun did it! I stared at the stick in wonder. Then, my math started to kick in. Cancun was three weeks earlier. I’d been with two men in that time. While it was certainly possible that I had gotten pregnant in Cancun, it was unlikely that my husband and I, who had been trying unsuccessfully for going on three years, had suddenly made magic in Mexico.
The far more likely scenario was the other man.
My stepbrother.
I was carrying my stepbrother’s baby.
I set the stick on the bathroom counter and went down to the kitchen. Pregnancy or no pregnancy, I officially needed a glass of wine. I poured a half a glass from an open bottle of white in the fridge and sat at the kitchen table. I thought for a few minutes, and then I did the only thing I could do: I called Angela.
“Can you take the rest of the afternoon off?” I asked. It was a Friday, so it was a possibility.
“I would love to take the rest of the afternoon off,” she said, and I could hear her already beginning to shuffle papers and gather her things. “I just need to fire off a few emails for next week and then I can blow this place. What’s the occasion?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Come to my house. I have wine waiting.”
There was a long pause. “Is it what I think it is?” she asked.
“Just come over as soon as you can.” I hung up the phone and sat back down at the kitchen table.
I’ll give my best friend credit, when she wants to know what’s going on, she doesn’t waste any time. She must have floored it all the way to my house because she got there in less than twenty minutes. She looked a little disheveled, but she was there.
“Okay, girlie, let me see that stick!” she said, taking her coat off and dropping it on the chair.
I smiled and let her upstairs to the bathroom. I pointed out the stick on the bathroom counter. She took one look at it and began to scream. She hugged me and I jumped around with her as we giggled just like we had when she had found out she was pregnant.
Then, after a moment, I stopped. She stopped too, and looked at me. “What’s going on?” she asked, her hands on my forearms. “Why aren’t you over the moon over this?”
“Let’s go back downstairs,” I said. “That’s where the wine is.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, and we walked back to the kitchen; I brought the pregnancy test with me. I poured her a glass of wine and we sat in silence. I knew she wouldn’t ask again until I was ready to talk.
After a few minutes, I finally forced the words out of my mouth.
“I don’t think it’s Brady’s,” I said.
Angela looked at me like I was crazy, then started to laugh. “What do you mean you don’t think it’s Brady’s? Of course it’s Brady’s… whose else would it be?” She looked at me and noticed I wasn’t laughing. “Oh. Oh! Oh, you’re not kidding. Oh, Gabi.” She put her hand on my arm.
I just shook my head. “It’s no one you know, and it’s done. It was a stupid mistake. The question is, what do I do about it?”
Angela took a sip of her wine and sat back. “That’s a really great question,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
I stared at my wine and shrugged. “I wanted a baby—we, Brady and I, wanted a baby.” I looked up at Angela. “And, now, we’ll have one.” I lifted my glass to hers.
“Cheers!” I said.
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Romance: Seducing The Quarterback Page 68