There was still time to back out of plan B.
She felt an unpleasant tingle in her breasts, causing her to place her hands on them as she paced. They were definitely growing, even though she'd only been pregnant a short time. She stopped in her tracks, remaining still for a moment before heading to her bedroom in a rush.
She took one look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her short-sleeved shirt was tight. Her bra was still in the drawer. It was thirty-five degrees outside.
She was ready to go get Dylan.
She was freezing as she approached his front door, but that was the point. Her whole body was coved in goosebumps as she rang the bell and waited, sucking in her stomach and sticking her chest out. Those nipples he was once unable to resist were so hard they hurt while she waited for Dylan to come outside and see them. She hoped they'd have the same effect they had when they'd made their appearance by his drafty window.
"You rang the bell today," he said slyly as he opened the door, not looking at her at first. He glanced up, his expression briefly giving away that he had been caught off guard by her perkiness. With a new look of resolve on his face, he focused intently on her eyes, apparently unwilling to give her the satisfaction of looking at her chest.
Upping the ante, she dangled the keys just inches from her left breast. "You ready?"
He raised his chin and squinted at her, never breaking the eye contact. "Yup," he replied emphatically, reaching out and taking the keys, using his peripheral vision as a guide.
After a pause, she turned and walked toward the car with Dylan following. She had deliberately locked the door, forcing him to take a minute to use his keys before getting in. She used that time to stick out her chest in an emphatic stretch, accentuated with a groan.
His eyes never left the keys.
Once inside the car, he turned the heat on, but she rolled down her window. She glanced at him; he was clearly stifling a smirk again. He knew exactly what she was doing, and, at the very least, he appreciated it, even if he refused to take the bait.
"How were the enchiladas?" she asked as they started to drive. She was so cold she felt like she was going to die, but she was on a mission.
"They were okay," he told her. "They could have been a little spicier."
"Did Shelby like them?"
"She didn't eat them. She tries to eat healthy." He scratched his face, which was littered with a little bit of sexy stubble. "But I guess you can tell that by looking at her."
This time, Melissa stifled the smirk, admiring what a well-played comment that had been. "Her loss," she remarked. "My neighbors certainly liked them; they asked for the recipe."
"I don't need the recipe," he told her. "I have a personal chef. Speaking of which, what's for dinner tonight?"
"I haven't decided yet." For effect, she stretched again before adding, "Any suggestions?"
"I'm feeling steak."
"Steak it is, then."
They drove in silence until they reached the parking lot. Dylan left the car running this time as he turned to her, looking her square in the eye. "I'll take my steak medium well. And throw in those twice baked potatoes again. Those were good."
She watched as his eyes worked their way quickly downward, stopping for a brief second at her nipples before focusing on the gear shifter, which he put in park.
She had won.
"I'll see you at five," he told her before getting out of the car and walking to the building.
She rolled up the window and grabbed her coat from the back seat, putting it on with a shudder. Her smile was unwavering as she warmed up. The score was nipples one, Dylan zero.
She still had an effect on him.
Wearing the same shirt as she had in the morning, Melissa stood outside the car in the cold as she waited for Dylan to get out of work. She, her giant breasts and her perky nipples attracted the attention of every male customer who walked in or out of the store. Some of them craned their necks to get a better look at her.
She marveled at what simple creatures men were.
Dylan eventually walked out with his hair blowing in the breeze and his stubble more pronounced than it had been when the day started. She cursed him under her breath, angry at how effortlessly hot he looked. She didn't move as he approached, once again holding the keys dangerously close to her body, waiting for him to come get them.
With his eyes fixed on her face, he came closer to her than he needed to. "Is there steak?" he asked. "I'm hungry." He took the keys from her hand.
"There's steak," she told him, brushing up against him as she walked past. "With twice baked potatoes and very special brownies."
The grin he tried to hide reflected that he had gotten the joke.
After getting in the car, Melissa flipped her hair back and remarked, "I made an extra steak for Shelby." She was actually sending out a feeler to see if she was coming over.
"She won't be eating it," Dylan replied.
"Because she's dieting?"
"Because she won't be there."
Melissa's heart sang, but only for a second.
"Tonight," he added, "it will be Olivia."
She pretended the words didn't rip her heart out. "Olivia, huh? And how did you meet Olivia?"
"Online. With all the money I've saved not having to pay for rent or food, I joined a dating site." He paused for a moment, adding, "Actually, dating might be too strong of a word. This site is more for people who are looking to get laid. Olivia seemed really eager to come get with me, too." A sly grin appeared on his face. "You should see her. She's really hot."
"How do you know that's really her? For all you know, Olivia is really a big, hairy man who only posted a picture of a hot girl."
"I face-timed with her," he replied. "She's definitely a woman."
"Looks can be deceiving."
"Not with what I saw."
That comment hurt more than Melissa cared to admit. She wondered how many other women had exposed themselves to him online, maybe even when she was still paying him visits. How many women had gotten to see his naked body? How many women were looking at it now? Damn internet. There was nobody Dylan couldn't reach.
Except Melissa, because he chose not to.
Feeling flustered, she decided to change the subject. "I have a question for you."
"Okay..."
"You told me once upon a time that you don't like shower sex. Why don't you like it?"
He turned the steering wheel in a circular motion with his palm, which, strangely, got Melissa going. She needed to not look at his hands.
"I don't like the way it changes the sensation," he told her. "I much prefer to feel a woman's natural wetness. It's slipperier when it comes from the woman...at least, it is when I do it." He shrugged one shoulder and squinted at Melissa. "I've never had trouble getting women to flow like faucets."
She shouldn't have asked that question. She was hoping to remind him of their tryst in the shower, but her plan backfired. Now she was completely turned on, only to go home to an empty house.
And, apparently, Dylan was going to go home to Olivia, who clearly had a vagina.
"Eh...You didn't get my best work," she told him, hoping to have an effect.
"You're a liar."
It was her turn to shrug. "Believe what you will."
"Why...does fluid production decrease with age or something?"
Ouch. Without batting an eye, she declared, "Quite the opposite. Women become more in tune with their sexuality as they age. They know exactly what they like, and they're not afraid to demand it."
"I noticed you didn't make any demands," he told her. "I guess that means I hit all the right spots on my own."
He had no idea how true his statement really was. "Or maybe I was just being polite and I didn't want to make you feel bad."
"You're full of shit and you know it." His confidence was so sexy that it made her wish she could go in his house and have her way with him. The fact that he was sitting right next to her b
ut she couldn't touch him was maddening. She took comfort in the fact that she was about to change things. In just a few days, the roles were going to reverse.
By the weekend, Dylan would be at her mercy.
Chapter 27
Melissa had shopped in the junior section. While the skirt she had chosen suited her needs, she desperately hoped that, if her baby was a girl, she would never wear such a thing. It was so short that it left nothing to the imagination. It didn't even cover everything it was supposed to.
She had prepared lasagna with sides again, which were all in the backseat. She could feel the fabric of the upholstery against her sensitive bare skin, which wasn't covered by her tiny denim skirt. It did occur to her that she was going to have to get out of the car and walk to the passenger side, potentially giving a show to every guy who had stopped at the auto parts store for wiper blades, but she didn't care.
She wanted Dylan to see the most intimate parts of her, even if it meant everyone else got to as well.
She pulled into the parking lot and began her wait. A wave washed over her as the gravity of the situation suddenly hit her. Even if Dylan didn’t take the bait, she still had his child growing inside of her. In less than nine months, she would give birth to a little human being who was half her, half him. The thought was so overwhelming that it almost took her breath away. She placed her hand lovingly on her belly as she noticed Dylan walk out of the store.
She watched him approach in the rearview mirror. She had parked near the back of the lot to give her privacy, so she had plenty of warning that he was coming. He looked absolutely spectacular, and she could feel her heart flutter.
He opened the door and stood back, giving her room to get out. She deliberately spread herself wide as she put one leg out of the car, revealing herself to him.
He peeked.
She got up and walked seductively around the car, wordlessly taking her seat on the passenger side.
"It's not working, you know," he told her, once they were both inside.
"What's not working?"
"Your plan. Your attempt to try to get me back in bed."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yeah, I'm supposed to believe that? You just showed me your pussy."
"I never said you could touch it."
"I don't have to touch it anymore. I've got all the pussy I want, remember?" He flipped his hair back. "I'm drowning in pussy."
"Good for you," she said coolly. "Maybe, if you get enough of it, you'll find one that can match what mine did."
"Get ridiculously wet, you mean? I got that already. In fact, it happens every time."
"And their mouths?" she asked.
"What about them?"
"They can make you feel what mine did?"
"Yours never finished me."
He was right about that. At the time, she wasn't willing to waste a single encounter with him. Now that she was pregnant, however, things could have been different, if only he would have allowed it.
"I assure you...if it did, you would never be the same."
"We'll never find that out, though, will we? I have a new rule...only hot, young lips on me now."
Despite the pain of that last statement, she kept her resolve. "You mean inexperienced lips?"
"Go ahead and believe that, if that makes you feel better," he told her, "but Olivia was a champ. Shelby wasn't half bad either."
"And me?"
"You," he replied flatly, "are my chef and chauffeur...and nothing more."
She was completely flustered by the time she got home.
She checked herself out in the mirror, trying to gauge what Dylan had seen. She had definitely been out there. He clearly saw everything.
But he didn't invite her in, because he was drowning in pussy and she was just his chef and chauffeur. Little did he know, he would live to regret those words. Unbeknownst to him, she had been giving him last-minute opportunities to convert her plan B into plan A, but he had blown it. He must not have realized that nobody engaged in a standoff with Melissa Schuster and escaped unscathed.
Nobody.
She felt a little bit bad, strangely. He was a formidable opponent, and her desire for him was genuine. She actually wished he'd take her back into his bed so she could spare him. She had almost even liked him for a time, too, proving how good he was at being a manipulator.
But she was the master, and he never stood a chance.
She took off her uncomfortable skirt, trying to decide what to do with it. If she put it on for Jim, he probably would have accused her of buying it for Dylan. Even though that was the truth, she knew she could have easily lied her way out if it. She could have sold sand in the desert if she wanted to. The question was, did she feel like even bothering? She decided the answer was no, and she simply put the skirt in the trash.
With her sweatpants on, she headed back into the kitchen and walked over to the calendar. Smiling at the X's, she saw that Jim would be in town tomorrow.
Dylan's days of womanizing were almost at an end.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jim was finally scheduled to arrive at the house in less than an hour. With a renewed faith in her marriage, she did her hair and make-up again, making sure she looked perfect. "Third time's the charm," she said out loud as she pulled her lace nightgown out of the drawer. Sliding it over her head, she stepped into her shoes, checking herself out in the mirror. Her enlarged breasts flowed out of the cups of her negligee. She liked the way they looked.
She wished Dylan could have seen them like this.
With a sigh, she headed out into the kitchen, waiting for her husband to arrive. The sound of the garage door opener eventually filled the room, so she knew it was only a matter of minutes before Jim walked in. She actually felt excited as she stood up, pushing her chest out and sucking her stomach in. With her hands seductively on her hips, she posed and waited for him to walk through the door.
Jim definitely noticed her this time. He greeted her with a smile, his eyes immediately focusing on her chest. "Hello," he said emphatically, putting his bags down. "Look at you."
She smiled, shifting her weight onto one leg, pushing out her hip.
Jim walked over to her, slipping his hands round her waist, staring down at her with his bright blue eyes. "This is quite a greeting," he told her. "You sure know how to make a man feel welcome."
Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were familiar, his kiss predictable. His hands felt comfortable as they worked their way up and down her back.
Comfortable, but not exciting.
He walked her toward the stairs, leading her by the hand up the steps and into the bedroom. She sauntered over to the bed and sat down seductively, leaning back slightly and crossing her legs.
"Hang on," Jim said, walking to the bathroom. "Let me just brush my teeth first; it's been a long flight."
Melissa closed her eyes.
After she heard him spit into the sink, he walked back into the bedroom. "Now," he began again, "where were we?" He stepped toward her, and she spread her legs so he could stand in between them. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from under his belt, revealing his stomach. She kissed him as she unbuttoned her way up, eventually sliding his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor.
He stood back, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down around his ankles. After he stepped out of them, he folded them as he picked up his shirt and walked across the room, laying his clothes gently on the chair. Returning to his spot in front of her, he looked down and said, "You look stunning." His hands started on her shoulders but quickly worked down the front of her, giving her breasts a squeeze.
"Ow." She jerked back and covered her chest with her arms.
"What's the matter?"
"They're sore," she told him, refraining from pointing out that he had just treated him like stress balls.
"Oh. Should I not touch them?"
"Not in that way. You
can caress them, maybe."
He shook his head. "I'll just avoid them. I don't want to hurt you." With no expression on his face, Jim put his hands on her shoulders and guided her down into a laying position. "Scoot back," he told her.
She rose up onto her elbows and pushed herself backwards across the bed. He started to climb on top of her, but then he announced, "Oh, we forgot the towels." He stood back up and headed toward the closet.
Melissa put her hand on her forehead.
Jim returned with a towel, spreading it out next to her. "That's better."
She maneuvered herself over onto the towel and spread her legs. He didn't look at any part of her body; he simply climbed on top of her and kissed her neck.
"Oh, yeah," she said in a contrived throaty voice. She looked up and noticed the ceiling fan had a pretty thick coating of dust on it. She’d need to take care of that soon.
After kissing her for a few minutes, Jim once again stood up. Propping up onto her elbows, she asked, "What now?"
"I'm getting a condom."
"A condom?"
"Yeah. No offense, honey, but I don't know what diseases that guy had."
She flopped back down on the bed with her arms lying limply out to the side. She closed her eyes, only aware that Jim had returned because the bed moved underneath her.
He tried to enter her, but she was dry.
"Oh, I guess somebody needs more kisses," he said as he licked her ear.
"It must be the pregnancy because I'm plenty turned on," Melissa told him. "Why don't you just get some lube?"
He got up again and went to his nightstand. She looked back at the ceiling fan and tried to remember the last time she had cleaned it, concluding it had probably been months. She wondered what the ceiling fan in the living room looked like.
The bed rocked as Jim positioned himself over her, blocking her view of the fan. She felt the cold sensation of him entering her and she dramatically arched her back, trying to mimic the sounds she had made when she was with Dylan. It turned out she couldn't make those noises on command.
"Oh, you like that, huh?" Jim said.
What She Needed Page 16