First Down: A Nerdy Virgin Meets a Badboy Football Player Romance
Page 13
“That won’t be necessary,” he murmurs, his palm sliding down lower so that the heel of his hand moves over the sleek fabric of my thong. The pressure so close to my clit sends my already confused body into extreme overdrive.
And then what he said really hits me…he’s not asking for a paternity test? Like at all? And more than that, is he actually not angry that I’m pregnant? I was so prepared to have to fight with him, to argue him into having a discussion that this…whatever this is that he’s doing…is a complete surprise. My chest flushes more with that warm glow, that happy feeling, because I want Matteo to want me. If I’m honest with myself, I want him to want this baby too, but I’m trying to be reasonable. He may not want a relationship with the baby at all. Maybe he’s one of those guys that’s really into pregnant women or something. Or maybe he just wants to butter me up so he can fuck me one last time before he sends me out the door.
“Look,” I say, trying to gather my blouse back together. “We have to talk about serious things. I need to know, first of all, if you’re clean.”
His eyebrows rise practically into his hairline. “Are you asking if I have any STDs, princess?”
“I realize I should have asked that night, but I was so, ah, enamored, that I didn’t even think to ask.”
“Enamored, eh?” The slightest hint of dimple appears in his cheek, and it occurs to me that I’ve never seen him smile before, not even the night the baby was conceived. There’d been no giggly pillow talk or sweet nothings, just more orgasms, more gasps and pants.
“Matteo, please,” I beg. “This is important. It could affect the baby.”
The dimple disappears. “I’m clean. I was just tested last month. What about yourself?”
“I was tested the day we had sex,” I reply. “I just got the results in last week.”
I don’t mention that the reason I got tested was to make sure that douchebag Nate hadn’t passed on any nasty surprises from his Barista Vagina Tour of 2016.
Matteo reaches up and pulls my hands off my blouse. Once my bra is revealed, he quickly unclasps the front, letting my breasts spill out. They are so sore, so fucking sore, and feel so ripe and full, that I can’t help but moan when they fall free from the cups of the bra.
A muscle ticks near Matteo’s jaw and I don’t miss the way he subtly readjusts his erection.
“Do they hurt?” he asks.
I nod, my head dropping back as he leans forward and sucks one berry-red nipple into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” I mumble, forgetting what else I had to say. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
“Keep talking, princess. You have any other serious things you want to say?”
It’s so hard to think with that wicked mouth, that hot tongue and gently nipping teeth on my painfully sensitive nipples. I’m so grateful he can’t see how wet I am, see how even the insides of my thighs are wet now. “I…um…I came here as a courtesy…” I try to remember what I rehearsed saying the way here. “A courtesy to hear what you have to say.”
“What I have to say about what?” he murmurs against my breast.
“About keeping the baby.”
He stiffens. “Are you thinking about not keeping it?” he asks. His voice and face are entirely neutral, but even after only this half hour with him, I’m beginning to learn the danger behind that inscrutable neutrality.
With his lips off my breast, I’m able to think more clearly, and as crazy as it feels to tell him what I need to say with my breasts exposed and my nipple still wet from his mouth, I need to get through to him. “Matteo, we don’t even know each other. You might be married for all I know or already have children.”
He presses his lips together, and then he’s on his feet, his wide hands on my waist. He turns me so that I’m facing his desk, and then with a firm hand in between my shoulder blades, he pushes me down so that my bare breasts are flattened against the chilly mahogany of his desktop.
“I’m not married,” he says, leaning down on top of me so I can feel the rumble of his chest against my back. “I don’t have any other kids. All better now?”
I gasp when I feel my skirt being tugged down past my ass. The skirt is so tight that I can’t spread my legs, and they’re pinned helplessly together as the skirt inches its way down. “No, not all better,” I manage, watching as his massive, tanned hand pulls a pair of scissors out of a drawer. “There’s so much more. We don’t know each other and I don’t know that I’m ready to raise a child on my own…but—”
Cold metal trails down my spine, all the way down to my ass. I hear the heavy scissors snip snip at my thong, and then Matteo tosses the scissors and ruined scrap of fabric on his desk.
“Your thong was wet, princess. Does that mean your pussy is wet?”
I can’t do anything but moan as his fingers dance teasingly around my ass, trailing lightly over my wet cunt.
He leans down again. “I can smell you. It makes me want to know how you taste. Now, what was this but? You can’t raise a child on your own, but…?”
“But my family’s Catholic,” I answer weakly, his words still swirling in my head. “And I…I know it doesn’t make any sense logically. But I don’t want to do that. I think I want to keep the pregnancy, even if I give the baby up for adoption.”
“You want to know a secret?” he asks. A single finger finds my cleft and slides easily inside of me. “I’m Catholic too. And you better tell me now if you want me to stop right now, princess.”
I shake my head as best I can while bent over the desk. “Don’t stop,” I beg shakily. I’m beginning to remember exactly why I hadn’t had my wits about me that night; something about Matteo short-circuits my brain and brings out the needy, mindless woman in me, the woman who just needs to be fucked hard and often.
“Whatever you want to do, gorgeous, I will help,” he says, that finger curling inside of me to press against my g-spot. I instinctively try to widen my legs but my pencil skirt is as effective as a strait-jacket and my thighs remain pressed together. “But you got one thing wrong. If you keep this baby, and you won’t be raising it alone. I’m going to be there.”
I should really stop being shocked by Matteo at this point, but it’s impossible. I twist my head up to look at him. “Are you saying that you would want this baby too? But that’s insane! We don’t even know each other.”
A strong hand kneads one of my ass cheeks while the other continues caressing my g-spot. “Here’s what I know, sweetheart. I’m thirty-four and a multi-millionaire and more than able to support a child and its mother with as much luxury as you could ever want. But more than that—” he leans down and his hand leaves my cunt, making me groan with disappointment until I realize I can hear the clank of his belt being unbuckled “—I want you. I’m obsessed with you. Do you know the last time I thought about a woman like this, wanted a woman like this? Not since I was a kid in high school. But I’m a man now, and while that baby is mine, I’m just as interested in making you mine.”
“Yours?” I say, half excited and half terrified. How can I even be thinking about sex and romance at a time like this? But his words are lighting twin fires in my heart and my belly, connecting the two. I can’t untwist my lust from whatever emotions he evokes in me, and as I hear the silken rustle of his boxers as his hand pulls out his cock, I decide that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Have you ever had a man make you his, Jessica?” he asks darkly. “Have you ever had a man claim you? Own you?”
“N-no,” I stammer. “No one’s ever wanted to make me his.”
“You’re wrong,” Matteo tells me. “There’ve been men who’ve wanted to. But you didn’t let them, did you, Jessica? Not like you’re going to let me right now.”
And then the hot tip of his cock brushes against my folds.
“Answer me,” he demands.
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About the Author
New Orleans girl relocated to Denver. Tattooed connoisseur of smut. Compulsive writer of any sexy idea that drifts through my mind. Hurricanes and hot guys and crazy mountain hikes always welcome. Like to win things? Join my newsletter–I always include a giveaway with each update!
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