“Hey, you,” Logan said in the doorway.
“Logan,” she whispered.
He came around the other side of the bed and kissed her cheek. “You scared me, Luce.”
“I’m okay.”
“You better be! You are a bitch for scaring me like that,” Maria said, standing next to Logan, but took Lucy’s hand in hers. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said, her hand cupping her throat. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I stopped her.
“Don’t. Rest. Save your voice. I’ll be here. I’m never leaving your side again, and you’re never leaving mine.” I slipped a six−carat solitaire Ruby nested in the middle on the rose gold band on her ring finger. “And you’re never leaving my side again.”
That I would take to my grave. This woman taught me the difference between love and lust and everything that fits in between.
Epilogue
Lucy
Nine months later
“Count,” he said, slapping my ass again.
I cried out, shaking from my last orgasm. I couldn’t be tossed over his lap anymore, not when my stomach was the size of Texas. I was bent over the bed, my hands bracing my body weight as he rammed his cock into me, and with every thrust, he spanked me.
I loved having both sensations. His cock punched my sensitive spot inside my channel, and with every hungry slap of his hand on my ass and his heavy sack against my clit, it was only a matter of time before I came again.
We had been having sex like crazy because I was three days over my due date. I was a whale. I was ready to give birth, but our son didn’t seem to want to come out. A part of me wanted to keep him safe in my belly, where he was protected from the harshness of the world, but then I’d deprive him of the pleasures of the world too.
“I don’t want to count. Just spank me,” I jutted my ass out, pushing against him. The urge to fuck him every which way to Sunday never faded since I got pregnant. My pregnancy hormones were through the roof. He didn’t have a problem sating them. We fucked at least three times a day, but I was worried my water would never break, and I’d have to have a C−section. I didn’t want a scar.
He flipped me over, my ass against the bed, burning and no longer being abused by his palm. Godrick lifted my legs onto his shoulders and gripped my hips to lift me in the air. His wide cock stretched me as he sank inside me.
“Nothing will ever be better than feeling you.” His left hand spread my knees apart, and his ring shined in our bedroom light.
We married the next day at the hospital, and every day has been everything I had ever wanted in my life. Brian wasn’t behind bars. He was in a mental facility getting treated for his psychosis. He wasn’t ever going to bother me again. Life was perfect.
“I don’t like this position,” I said, and I cupped my swollen stomach. “It makes me feel like a whale.”
He stopped moving, and that familiar glint in his eye that told me didn’t like what I said shone. He pulled out of me, his cock wet from my juices and he flipped me on to my hands and knees, and smacked my ass so hard, fluid rushed out of me.
Oh.
A lot of fluid.
“Holy shit, your water broke.”
“Holy shit, my water broke!” I repeated what he said, shocked. I didn’t move. I was afraid to breathe. Well, I was afraid to breathe until my first contraction hit. “Godrick!” My hand flew to my stomach. He turned me onto my back slowly, his cock still raging hard. “You’re still hard? Are you kidding me?” I growled at him.
“I can’t help it. I want you all the time. You’re hot when you’re in labor. You are having my baby.”
“You’re a caveman.” I tried to breathe quicker, faster, pulling my knees up when my contractions became too close together. “Godrick, the baby is coming now. Now! You don’t have time to take me to the hospital. Call an ambulance. You are delivering this baby right. Nowwww!” I screamed, pushing through the first contraction until all my strength in my body was gone. I collapsed, sweaty and weak. I couldn’t do this. That was only one push. How was I going to get this entire baby out of me?
“I see the head, baby. You’re doing so good.” He rubbed his hand up and down my legs, reassuringly, giving me strength. “You can do this. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
Another contraction hit, and I somehow found the strength to push again. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and my body gave way again.
Godrick choked up, and his eyes brimmed red as he pulled our son free from me right as the paramedics burst into the room. I was exhausted, but Godrick held up our son, all white with a bit of blood on him, but he was beautiful. He had my red hair, poor little guy; he couldn’t get away from it.
“He’s perfect,” I said.
“You’re perfect.” He laid our son on my chest, kissing my sweaty forehead.
The paramedics checked me out, and one even delivered the afterbirth, but I laughed the entire time.
“What’s so funny?”
“We are naked. The paramedics are here. My ass still stings from you spanking it.” Oops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. One of the paramedics quirked a brow but didn’t say anything. He hid a smile and continued working, making sure we were healthy. “What a story to tell our son.”
“It will scar him for life,” Godrick said, slipping on a pair of shorts and pulling one of my nightgowns over my head. “I can’t wait to tell him when he is old enough.” He grinned at our little chubby-faced baby.
Godrick Stoneridge swooped in and changed my life. He wasn’t dark at all, not like I initially thought, he was pure light, my joy, my new religion.
I didn’t believe in much, but I believed in him, and that love was stronger than any faith that could ever test me.
Forbidden Kiss
Taylor
“How does my dress look?” I turned around to check myself in the mirror and adjusted a couple of wrinkles in the fabric.
“It looks fine.” My younger sister, Anna, looked up from her book for a moment and shrugged. “Why do you care anyway? It’s not like you’re going to buy anything.”
“I want to blend in with the crowd—the best way to do that is to look like I belong there.” My shoulders slumped forward, and I sighed.
I totally don’t look like I belong there.
There was an art auction—technically, it was just a preview show for the art that was going to be auctioned so potential bidders could figure out what they wanted to bid on before the actual auction took place. Every year, Wellington’s gave a few tickets to the art department at Carson Cove University so that a few students could come to the art show. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity for most students because very few of us were ever going to have the kind of wealth required to get a real invitation.
I didn’t expect to actually win when I entered my name in the raffle, but luck was on my side—the fact that I bought twenty raffle tickets might have had something to do with it too. It was my senior year of college, and my last chance to attend the art show, so I decided to take a risk. Thankfully, it paid off.
“Have you seen my crimson-sin lipstick?” I picked up my makeup bag and started digging through it.
“Why would you ask me?” Anna looked up from her book again. “If anyone in this house is borrowing your lipstick, it’s not me. Mom was talking about lipstick a few days ago when she was getting ready for her date with Brad—or was it, Steve?”
“Right…” I nodded and made a beeline for my mother’s bedroom.
Anna would rather die than wear lipstick.
My mom had been raiding my makeup since she decided that it was time to start dating again. I couldn’t say much—I did the same thing to her when I first started wearing it. I still hadn’t adjusted to the fact that my mom was going on dates with someone other than my dad, but he was the one that left, so I couldn’t say much about it. At least someone in the house was getting some action. I was too busy with school to
have a boyfriend, and Anna was technically old enough to start dating if she wanted to, but she always had her nose in a book. I’m wasn’t sure she would even notice if a guy hit on her.
“Ah, there it is.” I found my crimson-sin lipstick sitting on my mother’s vanity—it was a stark contrast to the boring shades she usually wore.
Anna didn’t look up at me when I walked back into my bedroom and started applying my lipstick. I had no idea why she even bothered to hang out in my room anymore—it used to our tradition after school every day, but it had been a long time since we shared any common interests. Our age difference had a lot to do with it. She was barely sixteen, and I was twenty-three. I hated that we had drifted apart, but our lives were in different places. I was focused on graduating, finding a real job, and getting my own place. She was trying to survive high school, and if there was anything else going on, she didn’t talk to me about it. The divorce seemed to impact her more than it did me. I was old enough to realize that the relationship was broken before our dad left, but she was still young and naive.
“Alright, I don’t know when I’ll be back—don’t wait up.” I tried some humor to see if I could get a smile out of my little sister.
“I never do.” She looked up and rolled her eyes—but there was no smile.
Oh well, I tried…
The art show was being held at Wellington’s Museum downtown, which was about thirty minutes away from my house. I waited for my phone to connect to the car so I would have some music for my drive and skipped over a couple of Ariana Grande songs so that I could listen to my latest jam, Old Town Road by Lil Nas X. I started singing along as I drove through the streets of the Mandalay Subdivision. I didn’t live in the richest part of Carson Cove by any means, but my neighborhood was picture-perfect suburbia with well-manicured lawns and flower beds everywhere.
I always thought I would leave Carson Cove behind when it was time for me to go to college, but money got tight after my parents divorced. Living at home and attending Carson Cove University was the best option for everyone—I certainly didn’t want to drown myself in student loans and work two jobs on top of going to school.
Getting a chance to go to the art show is a definite perk of staying behind—I wouldn’t have gotten an opportunity like this if I moved to New York like I planned.
The drive was rather peaceful. There weren’t that many cars on the road since it was the weekend, and it was late afternoon, so most of the people my age hadn’t begun their weekend debauchery. I didn’t have any bad intentions on my agenda for the weekend, and I rarely mixed it up with the people my age who thought they ran the town on Friday and Saturday night. I didn’t have Carson Cove privilege as some people referred to it—that basically meant you were filthy rich and not afraid to flaunt it.
There would be plenty of people at the auction with Carson Cove privilege, and my only goal for the evening was blending in so that I didn’t look like an unprivileged member of the middle class. I wasn’t ashamed of being unprivileged, but it would be nice to have one evening where I didn’t get slapped in the face by it.
Tonight, I’m not simple little Taylor Abernathy from Mandalay—I’m just a girl in a black dress who enjoys art—standing next to people who could buy every piece with a wave of their hand.
One hour later
The art show was set up in sections where you could browse based on the price range, and there was an area with an open bar and some snacks I would have never purchased on my own, for those who were just there to socialize. Like most gatherings in Carson Cove, it was more important for people to know they were getting something expensive than to just enjoy it, so there was a card explaining why everything you could have was special. The liquor they were serving was a step above top shelf, the wine was older than anyone in the room, and the snacks were ridiculously expensive.
I learned that it was possible to spend five-hundred dollars for a pound of cheese and while it wasn’t bad, it didn’t taste that good. Even the crackers were from a premium bakery that boasted about using water you could only get a certain time of day from a special spring that was supposedly prehistoric with rich deposits of Tanzanite at the bottom. The crackers didn’t taste any different than the generic ones my mom bought at the grocery store, but the people around me acted like they were sampling manna from heaven.
I guess I’ll get a glass of wine—it’s not like I’ll ever get to drink anything this expensive again.
The only good thing about the exotic food and drink selection was that nobody seemed to notice an unprivileged in their ranks. I was completely ignored for the most part. I started walking through the gallery and immediately wished it was socially acceptable to take pictures because some of the paintings that were being auctioned were exquisite.
I might not have had the means to hang one of them in my home, but I loved art. I got that from my parents—they were both artists when they were younger, and several of our family vacations were conveniently scheduled around art shows at the destination they chose. That part of our family dynamic never rubbed off on my sister, and she normally complained when our vacation took a detour towards a museum, but I couldn’t have been happier.
My parents would love to be here right now—they might even be civil to each other while they were looking at all of these pieces of art.
I spent some time looking through the gallery while I sipped my wine, and by the time I got to the end of the first section, I decided that I wanted a refill. I hated to admit that it was the best wine I had ever tasted, although my palate was inexperienced. There were more people near the open bar than there were when I got my first glass of wine, so I had to wait my turn to get served. I tried to pretend that I was a statue that only got to take a step when the person in front of me did. I was nothing more than an image against the backdrop—a nameless face in the crowd. I hoped to stay that way for the rest of the night.
The glamorous, beautiful, and drop-dead gorgeous Carson Cove privileged were all around me, and I was extremely uncomfortable. As soon as my glass was refilled, I scooted over to the side to look for an opening, so I could disappear into the gallery. I must have blended in so well that the privileged thought I was literally part of the scenery because two women walked over and stood directly in front of me to sip their wine while they gossiped about the other guests. I wasn’t sure if they cared that someone was behind them or were just so caught up in their own conversation that they didn’t notice—I couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“Did you hear that Jon and Mary Alcott are getting a divorce?” The woman on the left, a blonde in a Versace dress, leaned close to the brunette beside her. “They’re here together, but this may be the last event in Carson Cove that they attend as a couple.”
“Then I guess they won’t be buying anything.” The brunette hid her laugh behind her wine glass. “Unless they plan to take a pair of scissors to it when they split everything.”
“She’ll probably get custody of the kids and take him to the cleaners.” The blonde shrugged. “He won’t have much of anything after she’s done with him.
“I’ll mark him off my list of future ex-husbands.” The brunette grinned and sipped her wine.
“Speaking of—do you have any leads?” The blonde gave her friend a side-eyed glance. “I never thought I’d see the day Alexis Devereaux was celebrating the anniversary of her last divorce without an engagement ring on her finger.”
Oh my god! That’s Alexis Devereaux? I need to get the hell away from here—asap! She is not someone I want to be associated with by accident.
“I’ve got my eye on someone.” Alexis winked at the blonde. “I might even have our first date lined up before the end of the show—which means the countdown to taking him for half of everything he owns can officially begin.”
“Cheers to that.” The blonde tapped her wine glass against the one that Alexis was holding.
Alexis Devereaux was a Carson Cove legend. There were a lot of rumors about her
, and most of them probably weren’t true, but one of them appeared to be—if she was single, she was on the prowl. She had two ex-husbands before she was thirty and had recently divorced the third—people said it was messy. I had no idea how men kept falling into her trap—okay, scratch that—I knew exactly why men kept falling into her trap. She was privileged and gorgeous. That was the perfect combination in Carson Cove, but it helped if you had a side of wicked, and Alexis Devereaux definitely had that.
Oh, thank god. They’re going to get more wine.
I watched as Alexis Devereaux and her blonde friend walked towards the bar—then darted into the gallery. I had already looked at the first section, so I started walking through the second one. I went slow and savored all of the artwork I would never see again. Once the auction was complete, it would be in the home of a privileged family from Carson Cove, and it was rare for them to part with anything—except spouses. I drained my glass of wine fairly quick once I started walking around, but I decided that two was more than enough. I still had to drive home after the show was over. I finished with the second section, moved on to the third, and when I was done with that, it was time to see some of the most expensive pieces that would be auctioned off.
Monet. Rembrandt. Picasso. Van Gogh. Oh my god—is that a real Michelangelo!?
I was literally walking through history. It was breathtaking. I wanted to run up to each masterpiece and stare at it until I memorized every brushstroke—but that would have drawn attention to the fact that I didn’t belong there—so I pretended that I wasn’t impressed. It was one of the most difficult things that I had ever done, but somehow—I made it. I passed the other two students from Carson Cove University that had won tickets, and they weren’t being very subtle, which got them a few disapproving stares from the privileged. I had successfully managed to blend in, and there was enough time to take another tour if I wanted, so I decided that another glass of wine wouldn’t hurt if I was going to be staying for a while.
Kiss my Boss (Plot Twist, I'm Pregnant Book 1) Page 18