Everything Unexpected

by Caroline Nolan

  I roll my eyes, not believing him.

  “It is,” he insists. “Even more so because I had a hand in doing this to you. Feel this,” he says taking my hand and resting it on top of his crotch. “Feel how hard you make me. Feel what your body does to me.”

  My hand slowly wraps around the obvious thickness that’s hidden beneath his jeans. I give it a little squeeze and hear the sharp inhale comes from his lips.

  “You do that,” he repeats.

  Feeling this hard part of his body, hearing his words, seeing the lust reflected in his eyes, it gives me the confidence to pull my own shirt up and over my head. A cocky grin appears on Shane’s lips, and a part of me feels like I should slap it right off him but the other wants to relish in it for the rest of my life.

  “Good girl,” he says before reaching around my back to the clasp of my bra.

  “Wait!” I say, his fingers pulling at the sides of my bra. “Bryan?”

  It’s one thing to let Shane see me in all my naked pregnant glory, but there is no way I’m letting Bryan catch a glimpse.

  “I sent him away for the night,” Shane says, kissing the space between my breasts while releasing the clasp behind me. When the bra falls down my arms, goose bumps come over my chest, perking my nipples even more.

  “Your nipples—” Shane starts.

  “I know,” I interrupt. “Are huge.”

  “Are beautiful,” he says ignoring me before taking one into his mouth. I let my head fall back at the sensation, equally loving and hating the torture. My breathing starts to quicken, my fingers digging into the back of Shane’s neck. I hear a moan come from his mouth as he turns his attention to my other breast. I can’t stop writhing against his thighs, needing the friction between my own legs.

  Shane gets the message because one hand makes its way to the button of my pants. When his fingers brush the material of my panties, he pulls his head back a little.

  With half a smile, he looks at me confused. “Your pants are already undone.”

  I look down. “What?”

  A small laugh erupts between us. “Your pants. They’re undone. The zipper too almost.”

  My hand goes to the area in question. Button and zipper both undone, my fingers brushing against his and the material of my panties. Another round of embarrassment creeps up my face. I close my eyes, mortified.

  “I couldn’t do them up. I used an elastic. It must have flown off when we started…this.” Heat burns my cheeks, the flush on my neck now only due to humiliation. I cover my eyes with my hands, shielding me from his stare.

  “Oh, Comb,” he says quietly with a slight edge to his voice. “The things you do to me.”

  He wraps his arms under my backside and stands, lifting me. My legs instinctively wrap around him so not to fall. He walks swiftly to his bedroom, marching us right to his bed. Laying me down, he crawls over me on his hands and knees. “I love that you can’t do up your pants. Now I can’t be driven crazy wondering what your panties look like,” he says slipping a few fingers under the elastic edge. When his fingers reach just the right spot, he leans down and whispers in my ear. “Because it does. It drives me crazy thinking about it. Every. Fucking. Day.”

  His fingers move in small tight circles, somewhat restricted by the clothing I still have on. But it doesn’t seem to matter because within seconds I can feel myself building, close to coming. Shane’s mouth latches on to one of my nipples at the exact moment I come on his fingers.

  “Oh God!” I yell out, riding out my orgasm for as long as I can.

  Shane releases my nipple with a pop and removes his fingers from my skin. Sitting back on his heels, he grips the sides of my pants and pulls them down my legs, taking my panties along with them. He hops off the bed just long enough to unbuckle his belt and jeans, pulling them down along with his boxer briefs.

  He runs his hands down his own length a few times, his eyes focused between my legs.

  “I wonder if you taste different being pregnant,” he says, his voice husky. “Should I find out?”

  “How would you know? This would be the first time,” I answer, still panting.

  “Oh I plan to have a taste after the pregnancy too,” he says grinning, climbing back on the bed. “I’ve been wanting a taste of this for a very long time,” he says kissing the inside of my thigh. “Have you pictured my face here?” He bites my other thigh. Not enough to be painful but I know it will leave a mark. “Have you thought about my tongue,” I feel his finger tease the same spot that brought me such pleasure just moments ago, “right here.”

  I lift myself up on my elbows, eyes sharpening. “If you don’t stop using your tongue for talking and start using it for something else, I’ll hurt you. And I won’t feel bad about it,” I caution him seriously.

  The top corner of his lips quirks up, a look of raw satisfaction coming over his face. As he lowers his head between my legs, he whispers into my skin. “So sexy.”

  My head falls to the mattress the moment his tongue meets my already sensitive skin. Heat comes over my entire body, prickling sensations of lust and want and need all over again. I grip the sheets beside my head, pulling them in opposite directions. I hear myself moan Shane’s name over and over, feel my teeth bite into my bottom lip to keep me from screaming. My second orgasm comes just as easily as my first. Shane rises, licking his lips and winking at me with an air of confidence.

  Two can play at that game.

  “Lie down,” I order.

  He appeases me and I crawl on top of him. Lining up exactly as I need to. “Proud of yourself?” I question.

  He shrugs the tiniest amount, his expression arrogant. “A little.”

  “You should be,” I say. “And in return, I’m going to ride you harder than you’ve ever been ridden before.”

  Taking him in my hand, I guide him inside me and do well on my promise.

  I WAKE UP in Shane’s bed, alone. The sheets are a rumpled mess underneath me but his blanket has been gently laid on top of me. It’s dark, the sun having gone down hours ago. Only a dim light comes through the doorway from the living room. I sit up, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. The alarm clock near the bed says it’s just after two in the morning. I look around the room, trying to find something I can easily pull over my naked body. For a man, Shane’s room is quite tidy, no clothing laying around on the floor or furniture. I hop out of bed and look in one of the dresser drawers, finding my favorite Frankie Says Relax shirt. I pull it over my head and make my way to the living room.

  The floor boards are cool against my bare feet, matching the air in the loft. Shane’s at his desk, camera in hand, clicking through shots on the small screen.

  “Hey,” I say, startling him a bit. But his surprise is quickly replaced with a smile.

  “Hi,” he answers. “I tried not to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I wake up a lot during the night.”

  I walk over and sit on the couch, bringing my legs up to my chest, stretching the shirt over my knees.

  Shane notices what I’m wearing. “I see you found something to wear.”

  “My favorite,” I tell him, smiling.

  “Mine too.” He winks. “I will say that I think you’d look better out of it though.”

  I giggle. “I’m sure you do.” My eyes drift to his open laptop. “What are you working on? The shoot from LA?”

  He turns to look at his open laptop, then closes the lid. “Yeah.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Can I see?”

  Shane shakes his head. “Nothing really that great.”

  “That can’t be true. There’s a reason everyone wants to hire you.”

  He lets out a small laugh. “Maybe. But I think I’ve got a much better model right here.” He lifts his camera from his lap and takes a picture of me. The bright flash momentarily blinding me. Then he takes another. And another. I lift my hands in front of my eyes, shielding me from the bright bursts light.

  “Okay, okay. That’s enough.
You know I hate having my picture taken,” I chastise him.

  He lowers the camera, placing it on his desk. “No you don’t.” He smirks.

  He swings his chair to face me and I get my first full view of him. Shirtless, wearing only a pair of light blue lounge pants that sit low on his hips, his pelvic bones are just noticeable above the drawstring hem.

  I stand and as sexily as I can without looking like a fool, strut my way over to him, sitting down in his lap. I wrap one arm around his shoulder while one of his drapes across my bare legs. I let my fingers roam about. Over his hips, those pelvic bones, through the small matting of hair just beside it. I giggle when I press down on his belly button.

  “I love your outie,” I say.

  He looks down at my fingers, circling his tummy. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s just like the rest of you. Outspoken, never shy.”

  He laughs.

  “Even the night we first met. Do you remember?” I ask him.

  He looks up at me, a genuine smile coming over his face at the memory. “Like it was yesterday.”

  “You were so sure of yourself. Confident. Cocky—” I giggle.

  “And that was before I knew I had to compete for your attention,” he says.

  “Little did I know who I had just met. Who you’d be to me.”

  His free hand comes up and brushes some of my hair behind my ear. “Little did I know who you’d be to me,” he says, looking into my eyes.

  We continue to stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to say or do next. It’s funny how our relationship is several years old yet it can feel so new at the same time. This is a new Shane and Leah relationship. One that has expectations and responsibilities and so much more riding on its success. We have a whole other person coming whose life will be impacted by our success…or failure. And I don’t want to fail. Not at this.

  “I’m nervous,” I confess. I don’t elaborate because Shane knows exactly what I mean. He understands this feeling just as much. But he doesn’t admit to his own nerves or fears. Instead, he says exactly what I need to hear.

  “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you. Of us. Always.” He reaches up and his lips touch mine softly, sealing his promise with a kiss. I want to believe that will be enough. That his promise is all we need.

  I pull back, the constant reminder of my pregnancy pressing against my bladder. “I need to pee,” I say.

  Shane smiles, releasing me from his lap.

  I stand and start to make my way to the bathroom, but stop at the window that overlooks the ocean in the distance. The moon is full and casts a silver glow over the water. I pull the sheers that hang over the window apart to get a better view. I’m about to tell him how pretty it is and he should come and see it when I hear the sound of a click followed by a flash come from behind me. I turn just as he’s lowering his camera.

  “What did I say,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says, covering the lens before looking back up at me. “But you’re just too beautiful not to.”

  A LOT CAN change in a month. A lot has changed in a month. Leah and I are a couple. I am her boyfriend and she is my girlfriend. We’ve taken the steps to move our relationship to a whole new level. We aren’t just buddies, or best friends, or future co-parents anymore. And even though we only took that turn a few weeks ago, I think we’ve actually been traveling this road for a while. Slowly and obliviously, but now I notice. I notice every single thing that has to do with Leah Kessel.

  The way my body reacts to the brush of her hand as she walk by. The way her scent invades my senses when I bury my face into her neck. The way my lips want to lay claim every time they meet hers. There’s an intimacy I crave when she’s around, even stronger when we are apart. I always loved hanging out with Leah, but being with Leah, that’s an experience so new, so different, so much more satisfying. When she’s near, she makes my heart pound out of my chest while at the same time letting me breathe easier.

  I seem to do the same to her. I see it in the way she looks at me, in the smile that reveals a bit more than it used to, the gleam in her eye only I know is there. There’s romance between us now. Not the flowers and candles kind, but the intimate, souls meeting kind.

  Anything we kept hidden from each other before, we now share. Words we kept silent before, we say out loud. I touch her whenever I can. Her face, strands of her hair, her growing stomach. She was right when she said it would only be a matter of time before she would get bigger and rounder. She’s still uncomfortable with it, not exactly embracing it like others do. But there is no one more beautiful to me than her. No one who can take my breath away like she can. She has a hard time believing it. I can’t really blame her when she has no control over her own body.

  A couple of nights ago we were lying down on my couch, and I was rubbing the soles of her feet and she could barely keep her eyes open. She had just spent fourteen hours at the office working on that damn case. I told her I didn’t like her working those long hours, thinking she’d agree with me. She didn’t. In fact, she got angry and didn’t hold back when she told me all the reasons why. That she was just as capable now as she’s always been, that being tired wasn’t a show of weakness and how dare I imply otherwise. Just mentioning anything about her slowing things down at work is like walking through a landmine. There’s no way I want to live through that explosion again, so I’m letting her figure it out.

  Then there was last night. We had just polished off a pizza a few minutes earlier when Leah started to get up, needing to go to the bathroom. Nothing new there, but what happened next was. As she stood, she farted. Loudly.

  Naturally, I thought it was hilarious. In all our years together, she had never farted in front of me. I found it entertaining. But I could see on her face she didn’t agree. She went beet red, eyes filling with tears. I thought it was a ridiculous thing to get upset over. It’s a natural bodily function. I even told her so.

  “Comb, don’t get upset,” I stood, gripping her shoulders. “It’s a fart. It was cute.”

  She looked at me with such venom, I actually took a step back. “It’s not cute,” she snapped. She whipped her face away from me, embarrassment still evident.

  “Hey,” I tried consoling her. “Don’t be embarrassed. I do it all the time!”

  “And I think it’s gross when you do it,” she replied. She faced me, anger replacing embarrassment. “This is your fault. It was your idea to get pizza. I was your idea to get sausage and bacon. It was you who ordered the cheesy dipping sauce. Hear me now Shane and hear me well. We are never eating pizza. EVER. AGAIN.”

  She stomped away and locked herself in the bathroom for twenty minutes. So maybe she felt like she was losing control of her body, but one thing was becoming very clear—she and her body were still very much in control of me.

  “SO, THE BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND thing…” Bryan says, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “How’s that going?”

  The grin on my face must say it all. It’s that happy, shit-eating grin that screams nothing could be better, feel better, than this.

  Bryan rolls his eyes.

  This is the first evening in a while the two of us have been able to just sit around, drink beer and hangout. It feels good to sit back and relax and watch the game. Our schedules lately have had us seeing each other in passing. After my trip to LA, a lot of my time has been spent with Leah, alone. And on his end, he’s been going back and forth to Kendall’s. That was, up until last night when he came home, tossing me his phone and begging me to delete her number. So with Kendall out of the picture, at least for tonight, and Leah working late, the both of us had no plans but to stay home and watch the game.

  After a minute, Bryan’s voice pipes up again. “What’s it like?” he asks, curious.

  I glance his way, turning my attention away from the TV briefly. “What’s what like?”

  “The whole relationship thing. Being a couple. How is it?”

  He knows how it is. H
e sees how I am around the loft. He hears the different tone my voice takes when I talk about to her.

  “It’s fucking fantastic.”

  “Whipped motherfucker,” he says, taking a sip from his beer.

  “Maybe,” I agree.

  “I hope she’s feeling better than the last time I saw her,” he adds, focusing back on the game.

  I bark out a laugh. The last time Bryan saw Leah, we were sitting around watching TV when Bryan made the mistake of commenting on her hair.

  “I thought you were blonde,” he said, his eyes lingering on the top of her head.

  “What?” she said, turning her attention towards him.

  “Your hair.” He cocks his chin. “I thought you said you were blonde but the top of your head is pretty dark.”

  He said it so casually, not thinking twice about it. Not noticing the irritation his observation made. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he just stopped there. But he didn’t. Instead he kept bringing it up by calling her Roots all night until she finally had it. She stood up and got right in his face.

  “You think you’re funny? Roots? Very original, Bryan. How about you try growing a human being inside of you and then think about opening your mouth. Maybe do a little research about how chemicals are bad during pregnancy. Maybe know a little about what the hell you are talking about before you speak,” she said, laying right into him.

  “Whoa!” Bryan leaned back, waving his hands in surrender. “It was just a joke. Chill out.”

  “Chill out?” she repeated. She stepped away from him but not before knocking her two fists together twice and leaving the room. Classic Ross Gellar.

  Leaning into me, Bryan whispered, “What the fuck does,” he pumped his fists together “mean?”

  I just laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Is she always like that now?” he asked, carefully watching her move about in our kitchen.