by Dalia Wright
Things progressed rather quickly after that.
Their clothes were shredded in the frenzy of passion that followed, as Sebastian kissed her lips, lashing his tongue against hers. His hands worked at her dress, frustrated by the awkward buttons until she helped him pry it off, and he kicked out of his clothes so fast, that Rose actually needed to suppress the urge to laugh.
His body under the clothes made her wet. Lean, powerful muscles wrapped around his wiry frame, giving him a polished, toned, fighter build. Where some men bulked out like mountains, Sebastian held a whippet-thin build that suited his height, and she could feel the strength in his toned arms as he pushed his palms onto hers. He quickly became fully erect as they grinded against one another above the red-tinted bedsheets, and Rose's gasps mixed with his excited breathing, his thundering heartbeat.
The crisp, clean-air aroma about his body made her inhale deeply, and even press her nose against his neck so she could keep breathing in the scent of him, letting it bathe her in his presence, the fact that he was here now in her arms.
“I want you to be my mate,” he hissed into her ear, before lightly nipping it, playing with the earlobe for a good moment as she shivered, and gasped.
Had she heard right? The words sent tremors of shock and anticipation. Do I want this?
This became accompanied by, if I accept this, then I'm gonna be stranded with the baby. I'll need help if that happens. I can't look after it alone. I have no idea how.
His erection pushed against her entrance, and she whimpered, bracing her legs as he fully slid inside her.
Their bodies melded together, sharing heat, desire and infatuation, infecting their minds and sending them both into dizzying heights of passion. Rose found herself plummeting off the edge and enjoying every second, basking in the sight of this glorious statue of a person moving his way inside her, the way his eyes had completely glazed over in the throes of passion, and she squeezed hers shut too, tilting her head back as together, they journeyed towards their climax.
She loved the brush of his body against hers, his olive skin making her body ripple from the soft contact. She loved the way he kissed her, leaving a light, wet trail over her neck and between her breasts, before he braced himself and increased his pace within.
She wrapped her legs around him, urging him on, and drowning in the wave of emotion, her mind blotting itself free of all chaotic thought.
One climax later, they lay panting side by side, grinning and still finding excuses to touch one another's skin.
“Okay,” Rose said, after long deliberation, possibly slightly biased due to her post-orgasm glow. “I'll be your mate.”
His face lit up in sheer joy. The smile grew until it had consumed all the sadness and frown lines in his cheeks.
“You will? You really will?”
Rose laughed, and leaned over to peck him on the lips. “I like you. And I think I would massively regret turning down an opportunity like that. I mean, when one of the most handsome guys I've ever seen on this planet says he wants to be my partner, well, gee, I better listen.”
He identified her cheeky smirk, and rolled them both over, until she sprawled out on top of his lightly sweating body. “Given the less than ideal circumstances in which we met, I s’pose this will have to do. Just wanna say, though, I promise to give you the best life I can possibly offer.”
Rose sighed, and rested her head against his chest. “That would be nice,” she murmured.
Her latent aspirations once lay in an art school, and traveling the world, with no vision of a boyfriend by her side, though she had hoped somewhere down the line for this to be possible. She hoped to make her parents proud.
A new path unveiled itself like a budding flower, showing her something beautiful she had never considered before. The mountains. The wild. The soft, silvery eyes of Sebastian, and his firm affection. And an abandoned baby who had unwittingly been the catalyst of it all.
She stroked him on the chest with her soft palms. “I could easily fall in love with someone like you. Just keep feeding me those cookies and I'll be yours indefinitely.”
He squeezed her tightly, peppering kisses on her scalp. “I think I can give you more than cookies. I can give you love.”
Love. Such a simple word, to invoke such powerful feelings. Rose shivered, cold and warm at the same time. She needed a moment to recover, and hugged him tightly the whole while, her limbs shivering and weak, her mind unable to process the information and to stick to any one emotion at the same time. It made her happy. It made her sad.
It made her free.
**
When they went to see the baby in the nursery later on, the lady who had been there before was cradling the little one in her arms, humming a lullaby. She smiled when they walked in, and Sebastian greeted her, before she bowed, handed the baby to Rose, and left the room.
She watched the retreating back of the cleaning lady, in her simple black and white frock, before glancing down at the cooing baby, which now tried to grasp at her fingers. Intelligence shone from those young eyes.
A secret baby, from a woman long-believed dead. A baby that might be sought by the ominous person or people that had killed Ivelina Lubanov. He certainly didn't come without any strings attached.
A baby that for some inexplicable reason, which she was sure it would regret when growing up – liked her. It actively giggled when she appeared in front of it, and it did so now. It seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that she wasn't the real mother.
That thought made her frown. Just because she happened to be a woman, didn't automatically qualify her to be a mother. If she committed to this, to Sebastian, to his family, there was something she wanted to do.
“I want to name him,” she said.
Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, staring at his distant relative. “Of course.” He hugged her gently, and brushed at her smooth, red hair. “Unless it's a terrible name.”
“I was thinking after my grandpa. He was called Anthony.”
Sebastian contemplated this, then whispered, “I like it. Let's go with it. Honor your ancestor's memory.”
Rose stroked the newly-named Anthony on the head, smiling at his little form.
For good or for worse, it seemed that Rose had thrown her lot in with the werewolves now.
She couldn't complain. Sebastian was a dream come true, and Anthony, well. She could likely learn to love the little tyke the same way her love for the werewolf behind her stoked itself, rising from obscurity into something lodged in her heart, unwilling to move.
A future. Hope. And happiness.
“Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered, as she passed the baby to him.
“What for?”
“For letting me have the chance to experience this. To be a part of this.”
“No problem,” he said, with a vibrant smile. He held out one hand for her to take, and kissed her on the cheek.
Anthony started making fussing noises, which only quelled when they both kissed the baby on his cheeks.
“I might regret this,” Rose said.
Or I might not.
The End
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
By: Elaine Young
CHAPTER ONE:
Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.
Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that acc
entuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.
“Rosalie?”
The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.
“Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”
Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.
“Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”
“Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teased.
“How could I when you’ve grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.
He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.
“What are you doing in the city?”
“Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.
“Did you come with a lot of people?”
“Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”
“Still being rebellious, huh.”
“You know me,” she said lightly.
“So are you enjoying your trip so far?”
“I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.
“That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”
“Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”
Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?
CHAPTER TWO:
He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.
This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.
“Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”
Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Okay – if you’re sure.”
Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.
She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied.
“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
“Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”
“Who said anything about offering me more?” she had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”
But Jake didn’t look convinced.
“I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”
She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,
“Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.
CHAPTER THREE:
Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.
“Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”
Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”
“Are you coming down with a flu or something?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
“Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”
“Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”
“And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”
That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorn
ing she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.
The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,
“Rosalie, when was the last time you had your period?”
Rosalie was so shocked to hear Amanda ask about something she considered unladylike to discuss that the implication of what she was asking didn’t sink in right away.
“Rosalie!” Amanda’s voice rose a little higher and she shook Rosalie’s hand gently to get her attention.
“This is very important, when did you last have you period?”
A sick feeling swirled in the pit of Rosalie’s stomach and another bout of nausea rolled over her. This one from fear, because as her brain scanned through dates and times and quickly did the math, she realized what Amanda was getting at.
“Oh my God,” she whispered softly before sinking to her feet. She turned large, fearful eyes towards Amanda, “Oh my God,” she repeated again. “What am I going to do?”
Amanda went down on her knees until she was at eye level with Rosalie. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy.
“Oh love, what did you do? Is it one of the boys here?”
An image of Jake flashed before Rosalie’s eyes. Could he still be considered as one of the boys here? No. Her father had banished him from the community years ago. She shook her head.
“No,” she said dully, “it isn’t one of the boys here.”
“Rumpsringa.” Amanda concluded grimly.
“Yes.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“Maybe a month? A month and a half? I really don’t know,” Rosalie confessed, desperately thinking of the endless weeks of lovemaking she had enjoyed with Jake. She had no way of knowing which one of the times had resulted in this.