by Nikki Ash
Isabel is no Catrina.
She’ll never compare.
But she’s the woman I have right now and I’ll be damned if I don’t use that to my advantage. I’m a man, after all. Grabbing her bony ass, I lift her and carry her over to our bed. I toss her onto it before quickly shedding the rest of my clothes. Her eyes are wide and unsure as I prowl over her. I capture her mouth again. My dick is already hard again, eager for this new step in my plan.
“Look how wonderful you are when you comply,” I praise as I pepper kisses all over her mouth. “So sweet and lovely. I wonder if our child will have your eyes or mine. Are you imagining the sounds of laughter as our children run through these halls? I would buy them all ponies and when they are older whatever they want. We will spoil them.”
She feeds on my lies as though they are her sustenance. “I want to have your baby,” she chokes out, surprising us both.
I’m gentle as I make love to her. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend it’s one of the tender moments I shared with Catrina. With Catrina on my mind, I whisper the words the girl so desperately needs to hear. “I love you.”
She comes.
And then I do too.
Tomorrow we’ll throw out the pills and I’ll fuck her until she’s carrying my child.
“Oh, Heath, can we go back to New York for a visit?” Isabel pleads from her chair by the window. “I miss my brother and his wife. My parents too. Please.”
I have too much work to do before I can go back.
Soon.
Just not yet.
“Perhaps at Christmas,” I lie as I stalk past her to my closet. I hang up my suit jacket and pull off my tie. Once I’ve kicked off my shoes, I unbutton the cuffs to my shirt and roll the sleeves up. When I emerge, Isabel still has a book open in her lap and is staring out the window.
I walk over to her and follow her stare. A little boy stands on the street corner with his mother. They’re homeless. His face is dirty and she’s begging for change. When his big brown eyes look our way, I nearly shudder.
That child doesn’t have a Mr. Crenshaw to save the day.
No, he’ll probably grow up to be some shitty criminal because his mother won’t go get a goddamned job.
“Do you think he’s hungry?” Isabel asks.
I know he is.
I don’t remember my days before Crenshaw, but when I first came to live with him, I’d have nightmares about a gnawing hunger in my gut.
“He’s not of your concern.” I grab her wrist and pull her to her feet. Today she wears overalls over a tank top and her blond hair is twisted into a messy bun. She’s a far cry from the debutante she once was. To be fair, she’s much prettier when she’s with me. “I like how you look lately,” I admit. “You’re eating more.”
Her cheeks burn red and she bites on her bottom lip. “I gave up smoking too.”
It’s been two weeks since I told her we were going to have a baby and she’s really gotten on board. Eating right. Exercising. Doing her part to help me around the house whenever I need something. Who knew being nice could yield such fruitful results?
Too bad being nice is eating me alive.
So often I have to bite my tongue and not compare her or taunt her.
I may be an asshole, but I’m not stupid.
And at the moment, I manipulate her to my advantage.
“Have you taken a test?” I ask.
She laughs. I haven’t heard the sound in ages. “It doesn’t work like that. These things take time. I’m not due for my period for a couple more weeks.”
“So we just fuck and fuck and fuck and hope for the best?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Yep.”
My hand lifts and I run my knuckle along her throat. Her eyes close and she leans into my touch. As I slowly undress her and then myself, I let my mind wander to work this afternoon. I spent the entire day with a big client. One I have been working on for months. He handed over the proverbial keys to his kingdom this morning, and I showed him exactly how rich I could make him. I’m flying high on success. It’s almost time.
“Bend over,” I murmur as I guide her over to the bench in the window. She places her palms on the seat and bares her ass at me. I slap her ass with my dick before pushing inside her heat. Always so wet and accommodating these days. “Touch yourself and make yourself come,” I demand. “Don’t make me do all the fucking work.” Luckily, my harsh words when we fuck turn her on. Her cunt clenches around me as she touches herself.
I push forward until we’re both kneeling on the bench. I smash her tits against the cold glass and drive into her relentlessly. My teeth nip at her shoulder as I stare out the window. The homeless woman holds the child to her breast, shielding him from our show, and glowers at me.
A good man would move away from the window.
A good man would finish fucking his wife and then send her down to give the poor duo some food.
A good man would scoop that boy up and give him a home, money, an education, and a future.
I’m a bad man.
I stare down at the dirty woman as I fuck Isabel so hard her head hits the glass with a loud thud. When Isabel cries out in pleasure, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull us back. She knows the drill. Her body falls forward and she rests on her elbows. I stand and keep her ass prone to me. A few more pounds into her and I grunt out my release. I fill my wife up with cum and hope this time does the trick.
And for the next fifteen minutes, I keep her just like this with her ass in the air.
One can never be too sure, and I don’t want a drop of me to escape from her until it’s done its fucking job.
“I need more money,” he says over the line, shame in his tone. His child cries out in the background. I can even hear his wife bitching at him. “Please. Just a small loan. The property taxes are due and I…”
Gambled away what he had.
Exhilaration burns through me. “How much?”
“Not much this time.”
Last time was fifty thousand. As was the ten times before that.
“I’ll wire you the money after you sign the loan agreement,” I tell him. Same as always. “Watch in the mail for it. I’ll have my attorney draw it up straight away.”
“Thank you, Heath. You don’t have to do this and yet…”
I smile. “Don’t think anything of it. You know why I do it.”
But he doesn’t really—he only thinks he knows.
“Thank you,” he says again, his voice happier in tone.
I hang up and lift my gaze to see Isabel standing in the doorway of my office. While I like to fuck, I’m growing bored of this baby making shit. I just want it to stick and then we can be on our way.
“Helen says everyone is doing well,” she chirps as she prances into the office.
Fuck Helen.
“Lovely,” I deadpan.
“I told her you’re not always a bitter scoundrel,” she says and flashes me a bright smile.
“Then you lied,” I growl as I grab her waist when she nears and pull her to me.
She’s all giggles as she straddles my lap. I work her panties to the side as she unfastens my pants. My cock gets pulled into her grip and then she’s easing herself down over my length.
Her mouth fuses to mine, but I can hardly keep my dick up. I’m bored of these games. If she doesn’t get pregnant soon, I’ll lose my fucking mind. This time, I check out mentally. My mind drifts to late night romps under the sheets with her.
My true love.
The one he stole.
Elliot fucking Lincoln doesn’t deserve what he has. Catrina always was and always will be mine. Soon, everything will fall into place. I can swoop in, rescue my beautiful princess, and we can ride off and have the life we always wanted.
“Ow,” Isabel whimpers. “You’re hurting me.”
I blink away my daze. I’m sucking hard on her little tit like I used to do with Catrina while gripping her ass painfully. Irritation bloo
ms inside of me. No sense in pretending. Isabel will never be her. She can’t handle a rough fuck. She can’t handle anything.
Pulling away from her breast, I look up at her. I shove my middle finger past my wife’s lips and watch her eyes widen in shock. Once it’s good and wet, I pull it back out and bring it around to her back. When I push into her tight ass, she screeches and begins to cry. The way her pussy clenches around my cock has me throwing my head back and groaning with my release. She tries to wriggle away, but the moment my seed spurts inside her, she freezes.
She knows the drill.
Stay fucking still and give me a goddamned baby.
She sobs and her fingers gingerly touch my chest as if she’s unsure what to do. I grit my teeth, bothered by the fact I almost scared away my frightened little kitten, and look up at her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Lies. I slide my finger out of her ass. My cum leaks out of her, soaking my slacks. “I got carried away. For one moment, it felt like it did when I was with her.” Not a lie. But it’s a morsel that my desperate wife needs.
Her wet lashes blink several times in confusion. “I can give you more. I can be like her,” she breathes. “I can be better.”
Never.
Not even close.
Not at all.
“Perhaps it means I’m finally letting go,” I utter. I’ll never let her go.
“Oh, Heath,” she breathes and kisses me deeply. “I swear I can be better. It just caught me off guard. We can try those things if you really want to. I want to make you happy.”
“I’m feeling happier…” I say, because it’s true. Because everything I ever wanted is nearly within my grasp. “And when you get pregnant one day, I’ll be fucking thrilled.”
She hugs me tight and buries her face against my neck. “It will happen. I promise.”
I pat her bony ass because affection is what makes her compliant.
It better happen because it’s all part of the plan.
Helen
The Present…
“OH NO,” EMILY WHINES.
“What is it, dear?”
“Isabel is going to get pregnant and Heath’s going to fall in love with her. Ugh,” she groans. “I can’t take it. She’s not his lobster. I don’t want him to love her.”
I shake my head. “Heath never loved anyone but himself and Catrina. Don’t fret, my dear.” I let out a heavy sigh. “It’s almost as if you’re rooting for them. I already told you this wasn’t a happy story.”
Her phone buzzes and she picks it up. There are several missed texts from Finn and one from Porter.
Finn: We need to talk.
Finn: I’m tired of this bullshit, Emily.
Finn: He’s nothing but trash.
Porter: I’m not ignoring you. Some plans fell through. We can hang out later if you want.
Her fingers fly like the dickens as she types out a response to Finn.
Emily: Grow up, Finn Browning! You’re a bully when you don’t get your way.
Then, she taps out a reply to Porter.
Emily: Like we could go to dinner?
Her phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes.
Finn: HE’S FUCKING USING YOU!
Porter: I could pick you up. We could take a drive and just park someplace quiet.
Finn: So help me, Emily, don’t make me drive my Maserati over there and strangle you. I will, angel, I so fucking will.
“Ugh, dick.”
“Language,” I huff. But I do tend to agree with her about Finn Browning’s attitude. While his intentions are good, he has a horrible way of going about it. “Ever think maybe he’s reacting that way because he cares?”
“I guess,” Emily admits reluctantly.
Porter: I was thinking about that picture you sent me. I’d like more like that.
Emily sighs. “He’s so romantic.”
I purse my lips in displeasure. “Not what I’d call it, young lady.”
Finn: That’s it. I’m done with this shit.
“Ughhhh,” she grumbles. “Get me out of this real-life drama. I want to go back to the love story. It’s clearly much more entertaining than mine.” Despite her words, she exits her texts and starts flipping through selfies she’s taken with Finn. I’m not sure what she has against the boy. Whenever they’re together, they laugh and flirt. He stares at her as though she’s his entire world. I’d like to intervene, but I don’t. Love has a way of getting through the thickest skulls and making them see sense eventually.
“Look at how cute you two are,” I say when she stops at a picture.
In the picture Finn is biting her jaw and you can tell she’s screaming. From an outsider looking in, they’re in love. Too bad Miss Emily hasn’t come to that conclusion.
“Perhaps we should stop,” I mutter. “This is where the story takes a turn for the worse. Are you sure you want to continue?”
“A turn for the worse? Why?” Emily exclaims. “I thought you said he didn’t love Isabel and he only loved Catrina. That’s all that matters!”
“Catrina got ill during her pregnancy. She was bed-ridden. I worried it was her heart poisoning her.” I frown. “I reached out to Mr. Heath and asked him to come home.”
“Awww,” Emily says, hugging me. “You did well, Nanny. She was heartsick and you wanted to heal her.”
If only it were that simple.
“Hold your tongue, darling. I simply stirred the pot and made things worse, I fear. On a dreadful, stormy night, Mr. Heath showed up. At the worst possible time, mind you. That was a part of his character, I think. Always showing up when nobody wanted him…”
“I think it’s romantic he always fought for her.”
Catrina
The Past…
“HELEN! HELEN, CAN YOU HEAR me?” I scream out and wait to hear if she’s coming up the stairs. When she doesn’t answer and I don’t hear any movement, I yell out my husband’s name. Of course he doesn’t answer either. Huffing my annoyance, I close my journal and place it along with my pen in my nightstand before I flip the covers off me. Then, throwing my legs to the side of the bed, I plant my hand on the nightstand to help pull myself off the bed. When I’m finally standing and the dizziness has passed, I waddle down the stairs. Not spotting anyone in the reading room or sitting room, I make my way to the kitchen, where I find both Helen and Elliot, as well as his parents.
“Good morning, Delores. William.” I give each an air kiss.
“Catrina, how are you feeling? I thought you were supposed to remain in bed as much as possible with your condition,” Delores coos. “From what we’ve heard your condition is quite serious.”
“It is serious, however, staying in bed is impossible when Helen and Elliot choose to ignore me, forcing me to get out of bed. I’m starving and parched and apparently both of them have more important matters to handle than to take care of me.” I pluck a bottle of water from the fridge and slam the door.
“Catrina, don’t be a brat,” Elliot scolds and I shoot him a deadly scowl. “My parents are leaving to Florida before the storm gets much worse and Helen and I were seeing them off.” I forgot today is the day they’re leaving. Having decided that it’s time to retire, William has handed over the company to Elliot and purchased a home in Florida they plan to make their permanent residence.
“Elliot, be nice,” Delores admonishes. “She’s pregnant and on bed rest with your child.”
“That’s okay,” I snip. “I expect nothing less from my husband. Will you be returning for the birth of your grandchild in a couple of months?”
“We might not make it back for the birth, but we will definitely plan a trip for soon after.” Delores smiles sweetly.
“From what I’ve heard from Isabel, she and Heath are trying for a baby as well,” Helen adds. “Maybe you will have two grandbabies close in age.” At her words, my water bottle drops to the floor, water spilling everywhere. Helen rushes around to pick it up and starts cleaning the wet mess.
“Isab
el is no longer part of this family, therefore, any child they create will not be a part of this family either,” Elliot sneers.
“Agreed,” William adds. “It’s such a shame she chose that riff-raff over our family.”
“I still feel you two are being too harsh on her.” Delores frowns. “She’s a young woman who feels she is in love.” In love! Ha! That may be so on her end, but my Heath would never love her. He only has room for one love in his heart and that’s me.
“Sometimes the necessary lessons must be given through tough love,” William replies, completely devoid of emotion. The intercom buzzes, announcing someone has arrived. “Our car is here, Delores. Time to go.” He gives Elliott a hug with a pat on the back. “Do me proud, son. Our company is in your hands.”
“I will do you more than proud, Father.” Elliot grins wide and I roll my eyes. Helen catches my reaction and raises her brows up, her lips pursing together in admonishment. I swear the damn woman has eyes everywhere.
“Helen, I’m hungry. Please make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Extra carrots and only white meat. I’ll be in the library.” I give Delores and William a hug. “Safe travels.”
“Was your soup to your liking, dear?” Helen asks, placing my bowl and cup onto the tray.
“It was a bit salty,” I reply without looking up from my book.
“That’s odd. I only added a pinch,” she says, lifting the tray. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“A glass of water. Clearly, your idea of a pinch of salt differs significantly from mine, and now I’m feeling dehydrated. You know too much salt can raise my blood pressure. Are you trying to kill me, Helen?”
Before she can answer me, the house phone rings and she sets the tray down to answer it.
“Lincoln residence.” Helen pauses for a moment. “Oh, Isabel, it’s so nice to hear from you,” Helen coos and my ears perk up.
“What wonderful news…Of course I will visit.” Visit? Is Heath coming home? It’s been nearly eight months since I found out I was pregnant and he took off with Isabel. My heart pitter-patters at the idea of seeing my Heath again. Oh, how I miss him so!