Madison's Choice

by Skye Michaels

  Calleigh took his cock in her hands and ran the fingers of one hand around the tip, swirling her thumb across the slit. She felt the little drop of pre-cum gathered in the groove. Smiling seductively up at him, she licked her rough tongue across the glans and probed the tender slit.

  “I couldn’t wait to tell you the news. It’s funny how the word ‘pregnant’ is uttered, and I become insatiable. I think we’re both going to enjoy this pregnancy, too!”

  He groaned and then nipped her chin playfully. “I foresee being worn to a frazzle by your constant demands for sex, sex, sex. That’s all you think about,” he said, grinning like a fool.

  “I know. It’s just a shame. I’m such a slut!” She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him deeply, taking all the sustenance she needed from his passionate response. He drew his tongue down her throat, between her breasts, and kissed down the center of her stomach until he reached her mons.

  “Pretty soon there’s going to be a nice, round baby bump here. You know how I love to rub it.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’ll have to say good-bye to my toes for a while.” She laughed as the five-o’clock shadow that made its appearance every day by noon stimulated her most sensitive parts. Her damp pussy was already vibrating in anticipation of his rough but talented tongue. He spread her legs wider to give him unfettered access to her eager center and began the slow torture. He ran his tongue through her pussy lips and around her pulsing clit. He purposely kept the stimulation of her clit to a minimum, and soon she was pumping her hips and trying to gain that treasured caress. She knew he wanted to make her desperate for his touch, and he was succeeding.

  He continued the slow and easy stimulation until she was urgently trying to entice him to plunge his fingers into her needy pussy. “Please, Jason. Don’t make me beg.”

  “Okay, baby.” He rolled her over, pulled her back into his chest, and pulled her one leg up. Then he slowly entered her from behind. He began the long, slow strokes that were guaranteed to have her straining for his strong, hard possession. The feeling was exquisite, but she craved fast and hard.

  “Harder, Jason, please,” she pleaded. It was amazing. She normally couldn’t get enough of him, but when the baby hormones were raging, she became voracious. She rolled her bottom back against his stomach, aching for release. He continued to stroke her heated center slow and easy. She was falling into a sensual haze. He reached around and stroked his fingers over her folds and flicked her aching clit. Her muscles convulsed around his shaft as she vaulted into an explosive orgasm. He thrust his hips hard and fast as she shattered around him, and he came with a violent climax. His still-hard cock pulsed inside her, and his hot seed bathed her tight channel. She gasped and moaned. Finally her senses returned, and she settled back against his chest like a well-satisfied fertility goddess.

  She grinned up at him. “Welcome to baby number two.”

  Chapter Seven

  Maddie had spent the weekend reliving that glorious summer nine years ago when she had met and fallen head-over-heels for the gorgeous Ross Hamilton. He was an excellent natural horseman, and she had been “horse crazy” all her life. Maddie and Kelly Anderson had been “horse friends” and had boarded their horses at the same barn during high school. They had competed against each other in horse shows for years. Maddie had worked at Eden Creek Farm that summer as an exercise rider, and she and Ross had spent long, warm evenings taking trail rides into the woods and swimming in the secluded pond at the bottom of the valley that formed the boundary between Eden Creek Farm and Bent Tree Ranch. They had enjoyed the usual round of dating activities with friends and generally had a great summer. It had been glorious. Although she had been a virgin when she met Ross, she found herself to be very sexually responsive. The intimacy of making love with Ross had been wonderful, and she had never been afraid or shy with him. He had been a sensitive, generous lover, always seeing to her pleasure before his own.

  She couldn’t tell herself she had been “in love” with him, but she had had a major crush on him, that was for sure. Their relationship had been too new, and she was too inexperienced to be sure of her feelings. She had definitely been in very serious “like” and very passionate “lust.” He was the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome older college man, and she had been extremely flattered that he had liked her. His raven-black hair was a little long, and his electric-blue eyes were riveting.

  She hadn’t been experienced, and she was not sure they had used a condom every time they had made love—which was very frequently as neither could get enough of the other. She did take responsibility for not insisting on a condom every time, although she knew that was not guaranteed to prevent pregnancy. She had been too embarrassed to seek out birth control from one of the local family planning clinics and afraid that her parents would find out. She hadn’t been able to face the walk of shame past the line of sign-carrying anti-abortion protesters usually present outside the clinic near her home. She had to admit that was her failing.

  All in all, although Ross had definitely been partly to blame for not taking better precautions, she felt the ultimate responsibility was hers. She had made the choice to have the baby and raise him herself. She had unfailing support from Grammatha, who had been a child of the sixties and was not judgmental, only practical. Her parents had continued to pay for her education and living expenses while she was still in school and helped out until she got a job that covered her and Nickie’s living expenses. They had been great although she knew she had disappointed them with an unplanned pregnancy. They had loved her and her son without reservation for all those years and continued to do so. She had not needed to ask Ross Hamilton for help. Now she had to wonder how much of that choice was made from hurt feelings and pride, and how much sprang from self-sufficiency.

  When Flashfire had broken out of his stall and raced up the Eden Creek driveway to destruction, he had ended not only his own life but her relationship with Ross as well. While she had come to realize the accident was not all her fault, she felt guilty over her part in it for nine years. She had been heartbroken over the loss of that beautiful though difficult animal, as well as the loss of her relationship with Ross. While any concrete plans for them had been well in the future, she had often wondered, at least in her own mind, whether he might have been “the one.” Girlish dreams! Who knows what the future would have held for us? What she did have from that tragic summer was a wonderful son any mother would be proud of. He was the best!

  After a long, stressful weekend, Madison called the Eden Creek Farm office and spoke to Robbie. “I guess I just have to bite this bullet. If you will have Ross call me, I’ll try to explain this to him. I doubt he’ll understand.”

  “Do you want Mike to have a talk with him first?”

  “Mrs. Hamilton…”

  “Call me Robbie. Your son can call me Aunt Robbie. We don’t stand on formalities in this family, Madison, and you and Nickie are a part of it whether you like it or not.”

  “Okay, Robbie. I was going to say that I don’t know how he will take this. I haven’t seen him in nine years, and I was really just a kid myself at the time. I guess he was, too. If you think it would be better for Mike to speak with him first, that would be okay with me,” she said nervously. “He might know how to break the news better than I would.”

  “I’ll tell Mike you’ve made your decision. I’ll leave it to him to decide when to broach the subject. Try not to worry, Madison. Ross is a fine man. He’s strong and somewhat stubborn but compassionate, and I’m sure you two will be able to work out something acceptable to both of you.”

  Madison was not so sure, but she knew she had to do this. There was no alternative. Hopefully this would work out for the best for Nickie. She had to have faith that all things happened for the best. There was sure to be some rough going first though. She didn’t look forward to having to explain herself to Ross after all these years.

  Chapter Eight

  Ross Hamilton was working w
ith one of the yearling colts in the round pen. It took both skill and patience to teach the young ones manners, to get them to walk quietly on a lead line, lunge on a long line, accept a bridle and bit and, eventually, the weight of a racing saddle on their backs, and finally a rider. Then he had to teach them to break from the starting gate and run on the track. They had to be taught to accept grooming, have their legs picked up and their hooves cleaned out and shod. All that could be taught. The will to win was in the blood and could not be taught. The champions had not only the ability to win but also the desire and the courage.

  It was a long road from birth to the racetrack. Not all of them were destined to be race horses, and fewer still to be winners. But the stock at Eden Creek Farm was exceptional, and breedings with their six standing stallions were extremely sought after and very costly. Stud fees varied from $7,500 to $45,000 for a live foal which stood and nursed. The farm boasted some of the highest money-winning horses in the state, with two studs who had won over $2,000,000 each on the track. Ocala was acknowledged as one of the top horse-breeding areas in the country and gave Lexington, Kentucky, a run for its money.

  Eden Creek Farm had had several Kentucky Derby runners and one notable winner, Courageous. The Kentucky Derby, a mile and a quarter stakes race for three-year olds with a guaranteed purse of $2,000,000, was referred to alternatively as “the greatest two minutes in sports” or “the run for the roses.” Eden Creek’s filly, Capricious, had come in third in the Derby at the beginning of May racing against a field of mostly colts. It had been an exciting weekend for the entire family. They all had travelled to Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky for the festivities and had a great time. The girls had gotten to dress up, wear hats, and drink mint juleps. The guys had been busy with race business, only to be dragged reluctantly to the social events requiring formal evening dress.

  Ross was already grooming their two-year-old colt, Rockstar, for the string of races leading up to next year’s Kentucky Derby. He had great hopes that Rockstar might be one of the rare horses to go the distance and take all three legs of the Triple Crown—The Kentucky Derby in early May, the Preakness in late May, and the Belmont Stakes in early June. It appeared he had the speed, ability, and the heart as well. The flashy dark bay with two white stockings certainly had the conformation and breeding, and was out of Courageous, their previous Derby winner. Despite the early misfortune of losing the sight in his right eye in a pasture accident when he was a yearling, Ross felt he had what it took to be a champion. His feeling was the result of training, experience, and instinct. Rockstar’s blind eye required a lot of maintenance to avoid infections and other problems, but to the casual onlooker, he did not appear to be disfigured. Of course, it was common knowledge in the racing community that Eden Creek Farm was pinning its next Derby hopes on a one-eyed horse. It had taken much patience and training to accustom the powerful animal to the loss of sight on his right side, and handling him could sometimes be a challenge—he could be dangerous and unpredictable. It seemed to Ross that he was always drawn to the difficult stallions.

  Ross and Rockstar’s jockey, Belinda Jones, had been working with him nonstop to get him used to running on the track in the company of other horses that came up on his blind side. It took a tremendous amount of trust in his trainer and jockey to ignore the pounding and noise on his blind side and concentrate on winning. Rockstar had the heart necessary to be a champion, and Ross and Belinda were going to do everything they could to be sure he had the chance. Barring the complications and unforeseen difficulties that made up Thoroughbred racing, it promised to be an exciting year.

  Courageous, despite emergency colic surgery, had died the previous spring, but they had several of his get at the farm, the most promising of which was Rockstar. Everyone on the farm had been heartbroken at the loss of the Kentucky Derby winner. It was a huge emotional and financial loss.

  It is a horseman’s dream to win all three legs of the Triple Crown with one horse in one racing season. It is considered the greatest accomplishment of a Thoroughbred race horse. It is a long shot for any horse to be able to win the Triple Crown in the short time span encompassing all three races, and it is extremely strenuous and taxing for the horse. It takes a terrific equine athlete to go the distance. Rockstar would make racing history if he was able to win the Triple Crown given his handicap. It had only been done eleven times since the inception of the Triple Crown in 1919, and none of those horses had a handicap. There had not been a Triple Crown winner in thirty-three years, since Affirmed won it in 1978. Other notable winners of the United States Triple Crown were Citation in 1948, Secretariat in 1973, and Seattle Slew in 1977. All of the Thoroughbred racing world was waiting to see what this season would bring.

  Ross saw Mike standing against the rails of the round pen watching him work the colt. He knew Mike would not interrupt because Mike knew that he would want to pick the time to end the training session. It was always best to end on a good note. Mike would be patient.

  When Ross was done working the colt on the lunge line, he walked him to the gate and prepared to hand him over to a groom for cooling out, hosing down, and turning back out to pasture.

  “What’s up, big brother?” he asked. Ross had matured and, at twenty-nine, was tall and well muscled with the same long, lanky build as his brother. His worn blue jeans fit him like a glove, and the well-washed, light-blue chambray shirt was damp from the sweat running down his chest.

  “Got a minute? I need to talk to you. Let’s go into the office.”

  Ross was curious. What can’t we talk about out here? “Okay. I could use a cold drink.”

  When they were settled at Mike’s desk with cold bottles of water, Mike said, “I don’t really know how to tell you this, so I’ll just jump in. I’m sure you remember Madison Snow, the girl you dated the summer of 2003 when Flashfire had his accident.”

  “Of course,” Ross interrupted. “How could I forget the worst day of my life?” He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it rumpled, and looked down at his dusty boots as the pain of that day lanced through his chest as though it had happened yesterday.

  “Well, after that summer, you both went back to school, and I guess you never saw her again. What you don’t know is that she left UF after a couple of months and moved up North to live with her grandmother.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I haven’t seen her in what? Nine years?” Ross interrupted impatiently again.

  “Well, if you’d shut up and listen, I’ll tell you!” Mike said with a note of exasperation in his voice.

  It was obvious to Ross that Mike had something important to say. “Okay, okay. Spit it out.”

  “Madison has moved back to Ocala and is working as Anne Sutton’s assistant at Le Club. Robbie saw her last Thursday at the office. Robbie also saw some pictures on her desk that really upset her. Apparently, Madison has an eight-year-old son who looks exactly like Mickie, and by extension, exactly like you and me. Robbie and I went to the club for the weekend so I could speak with her and see the pictures of her son for myself. I wanted to see if there was any other logical explanation before I told you about this. She admitted that her son, Nicholas, is your son as well.”

  “What! No! What the hell are you saying? That I have an eight-year-old son I didn’t know anything about? How can that be? What does she want?” Ross was horrified. How could Maddie have kept something like this from him for nine years?

  “Apparently she doesn’t want anything from any of us. She tells me that she chose to have the baby on her own and moved to New Jersey to live with her grandmother and to continue school up there. When her grandmother died recently and Kelly Devereau told her about the job at the club, she decided to come back to Ocala so she could be near her parents and family. She did not expect to run into any Hamiltons at the club, and she was quite shocked when I walked into her office on Friday afternoon.”

  “I’m stunned. I really can’t process this,” Ross said, shaking his hea
d as if to clear it.

  “Well, I haven’t seen the boy in person, but from the pictures on Maddie’s desk, I wouldn’t doubt for a single minute that the boy is a Hamilton.” Mike shook his head. “I could take the pictures off Robbie’s desk and put them on Maddie’s desk and I would dare you to be able to tell the difference. And let me say that Robbie and I had a few uncomfortable minutes over this. You’ll remember she had her hands full with our two back then, and she doesn’t remember ever meeting Madison. She had no idea that you had dated her.”

  “Sorry about that, Mike.” Ross grinned. He adored his sister-in-law, redheaded temper and all. “Has she settled down yet?”

  “Yeah. Your ass is in the sling now, not mine!” Mike said, laughing.

  Ross became serious again. “What do you think I should I do? Should I go and talk to her? I want to see the kid—Nicholas? I can’t believe this. Talk about a fastball out of left field.” His heart was pounding, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. Ross had been too busy in recent years pursuing his career to get serious about any particular woman, but he had never had a hard time finding female companionship.

  Thinking back, he remembered that he had really liked Madison Snow. After months of grieving for the fabulous horse he had lost, he had admitted to himself that he had been a little hard on her at the time. When he had started to come out of his funk, she was nowhere to be found. He had chalked it up to bad luck and moved on. Apparently so had she, with his bun in the oven. Had he been so unreasonable and unforgiving that she had been afraid to come to him for help when she found out she was pregnant? Or had she just not wanted anything more to do with him? I have some thinking to do, that’s for sure. And I’d better do it fast. An eight-year-old son? He tried to remember what Mickie was like at that age. Actually, he thought, he didn’t have to remember. He could just look at his sixteen-year-old nephew and see the eight-year-old lurking just under the surface. Mickie could still be a handful.