by Lulu Pratt
As the doctor predicted, Ben came into this world on the fourteenth of February. I always believed that Blake and I were meant to be together, and everything that has happened since we first met has only confirmed this. Not only did we conceive Ben in our first week of trying, but the date he was born on was the most romantic day of the year. Even the birthing process was easy and as simple as it could have been.
Blake and I are perfect for each other in every single way.
The kindergarten is the best one in the area. Blake was insistent on that. We both had pretty average childhoods, and as a result, we are both dedicated to ensuring our son has the best of everything. That starts with education.
As I take my son’s hand and lead him through the parking lot to the main building, I work to hold back the tears. My only relief comes from the fact that as I look around the school, I see a gaggle of other mothers wearing the same expression that I know to be plastered across my face. It’s a hard day for all of us.
“I think it’s this way,” Blake says, half to himself, as we stroll through the building. It’s a beautiful school, and I have to work to not gape as we make our way to where we think the classroom is.
Everything looks to be brand new. The walls are all brightly painted, and the grounds are freshly mowed with blooming bushes. Even the teachers who stroll the hallways are dressed impeccably. If it wasn’t for the life I have been living the last six years with Blake, I would feel very much out of my element.
“This is it,” Blake says as he guides us into a small classroom.
It must be the place. There are dozens of other parents all standing around nervously. Not the kids. The kids all look excited at the prospect of going to school and making new friends.
“Can I go over there?” Ben asks as he tries to let go of my hand. I don’t even realize how hard I am gripping it.
“Oh, of course,” I say. I let go of his hand, and he instantly crosses the room to talk to a boy.
I nearly break down in tears again as I watch him. He is so outgoing, just like his father and I am so proud to watch Ben make friends as easily as he does. The boy he approaches looks nervous at first, but a few kind words from my son and the two are suddenly laughing and running around together.
“Okay, everyone,” a lady standing by the front of the room calls out. I guess her to be the teacher. “I’m afraid, parents, that it is time for you to go. Rest assured that your children are in good hands and will all be in one piece at the end of the day.”
“Come on,” Blake takes my hand, going to lead me out of the room with the other parents.
“Just a sec. Let me say bye.”
A small pair of arms wrap around my legs. I look down and smile to see Ben giving me a hug. I ruffle his hair and bend down. I wrap my arms around him and give him a big, motherly kiss on the cheek. To my delight, he doesn’t cringe or try to avoid it.
The tears are now flowing thick and fast down my cheeks, and I don’t even care.
Blake takes my hands again and pulls me from my son. He smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek. Although he isn’t crying, I can see the red in his eyes.
Blake was the one who wanted to have a child in the first place. The day we found out we were going to be parents, I can still remember how happy I was. I can still remember how happy Blake was. I have never seen him so full of joy. Even on our wedding day, I don’t think he was on the same level of happiness as that day.
He is a great father, too, and I have never, not once, regretted the decision I made. I often think about the day he asked me to have his child and what my life would be like if I had said no. Whenever I do think about it, a cold shudder runs down my body, and I quickly push the thought to the back of my mind.
The ride home is a somber experience. It’s the first day in five years that I haven’t spent with Ben. Since the day he was born, I have spent nearly every waking moment with him, and the fact that I am about to arrive home to an empty house makes my heart hurt.
“Hey,” Blake says as he navigates the car. “He’s going to be fine. You saw him. Like his mother, he’s just too easy to love.”
“I think you mean like his father, he gets along with everyone,” I counter.
“Hmm, remember that day I asked the doctor about the possibility of our son being some sort of super child?”
“I do.” I laugh, thinking back to the moment.
“I honestly think that between the two of us, we have managed to create one. The little guy is perfect in every way. How could he be any better? Tell me that?” He beams with pride.
“You’re right,” I say, and I smile. “He is perfect in every way.”
*
Indeed, the house feels empty as Blake and I walk through the door. It’s so big and open and without life. I am used to hearing the Ben’s giggling, and his little footsteps running through the house as I chase him, or as he hides from me. At this time, he is usually watching his favorite cartoon, which means that his laughter would usually be filling the house.
“It will get easier,” Blake says, noting my face. He always reads me so well and giving me a great sense of security. It lets me just be me, which causes me to want to be open with him – in all ways possible
“I know,” I say. “It might take a day or two, is all.”
Blake smiles at me. He walks through the house and into the living room. As he does, he unbuttons his shirt and removes it. “Hey, at least we have the house to ourselves.”
He turns to face me, wearing nothing more than a pair of black chinos. To his credit, fatherhood hasn’t affected him physically one iota. He is still just as intimidating and physically sexy as the day I met him. No… he’s even hotter. I know what he’s capable of, which gives him an edge I never knew existed before.
Dark tattoos trace his broad shoulders and run up his thick arms. His stomach is tight, and his chest is firm. He is a fine specimen, if I have ever seen one, and he is all mine. There isn’t anything I won’t do for him.
“That is a positive,” I agree. I walk to him, eyeing him with hunger. “But what can we possibly do with such an empty house?”
“That’s a good question.” I reach for him, and as I do, his hands wrap around my waist. I’m wearing a tight black dress that hugs my body, cut off at the knees and is suddenly feeling very, very tight and restrictive. “Any suggestions, Blake?”
“Just the one,” I say. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. He kisses me back.
As we kiss, his hands grip my waist and pull me in as close as possible. I can feel his breathing as we kiss. I can feel his heartbeat increase as my body presses against his.
My hands run up his naked torso, stroking his skin. I rest my hand on his chest. His nipple is between my fingers, and I pinch it lightly. I feel his body react as I do, and I pinch it again.
In one vigorous movement, he suddenly hoists up my skirt and lifts me into the air. I wrap my legs around his waist. We stand in the middle of the living room, devouring one another. I kiss his neck and run my tongue over his skin, loving the taste of him more than I should. His fingers disappear into my hair, and the soft tug he gives me is enough to have my body wet and purring.
I can feel his cock getting harder and harder as he presses tightly against me. I know him to be wearing boxers underneath his pants, and they are doing little to keep his manhood in check. I bite his lip, and I thrust myself against his thick erection. I want him inside of me so damn bad. I need it. Now.
He smirks and carries me to the living room. As we reach it, he leans forward and drops me gently onto the couch. The moment I am free of him, my hands go straight for his belt buckle. I can see his bulge now, yearning to be free. I eye it hungrily as I fumble with his belt. Finally, it comes undone, and the moment it is, I drop his pants.
His cock nearly hits me in the face as it springs from his pants. I waste no time, my hand wrapping around it. It pulsates in my grip, and I squeeze it by the base. He moans, so I squeeze it again. I l
ick my free hand and wrap it around the head of his big, erect cock. And, with both hands, I begin to stroke it. His thick head is wet with pre-cum, glistening for me.
I want to say something naughty, but I’m lost in the moment. All I can think of is fitting as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can. I want to impress him, drag him deep into a delicious pit of depravity with me.
I twist my hands and move them up and down. I lube up his dick as I work him in long strokes. His balls hang heavy beneath his erection, and fuck if I didn’t want to lean in and roll my tongue over them. So I do.
“Delicious,” I whisper roughly, talking more to myself than to Blake.
“Fuck,” he groans loudly and throws back his head, moaning in pleasure. I cup his balls, I run my hand over the tip, and I squeeze the base. I do everything I know he loves, and he reacts just as I expect him to.
He’s almost trembling with need. It’s a beautiful thing, and it leaves me feeling so damn powerful. I lean forward and take him in my mouth. In one movement, I slide it all the way in. I feel it pushing against my mouth and throat as I swallow it. Once it is in, I wrap my tongue around it.
I pull it from my mouth and swallow again. In and out, I swallow and release. I reach the head, lick it with the tip of my tongue, and swallow. It drips with lubrication, and the sounds coming from him are almost too much. My pussy pulses with anticipation of what’s going to happen.
I pull the entire cock from my mouth, and the second it is out, Blake takes my hand and lifts me to my feet. He spins me around and unzips my dress. It falls to the floor, and his hands wrap around my breasts. I’m not wearing any panties, and I can feel his cock pressing into my ass.
“You look so goddamn good,” he murmurs and runs his hands over my ass before squeezing my flesh. “I’m going to fuck you nice and deep right now, Carrie. Just like you like it, baby. Yeah?”
“Please,” I whimper and close my eyes as he strokes my back. His strong fingers reach the small of my back, and he pushes me forward. I comply, bending myself over the couch, my ass in the air, pussy sloppy wet, just for him.
I brace myself for his huge cock to bury itself inside of me, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I gasp as he drops to his knees, wraps his hands around my ass, and plunges his tongue inside of me. He enjoys eating me out more than any other man I’ve ever heard of, but I love it. I feel like so naughty when he forces me to take his aggression, but it’s only for him. Like a deliciously dirty little secret. I love it. I love him.
I have to grab onto the couch for support as my knees nearly collapse. He tongues my pussy exactly how I like it. First, he licks my lips, running up and down them. He now runs the tip of his tongue over my clit. He licks it slowly at first, allowing for it to swell. He wraps his lips over it, sucking it. Faster and faster. He sucks it to my breathing, to my movements, and to the way I moan and tell him to keep going.
He pushes his tongue inside of me, then out, and then in again. He moves his tongue back to my clit, licking it. He sucks it. He licks it. I scream, and he continues.
I can feel myself about to come. I can feel my toes tingling and my body shaking. There’s a fire in my belly, and it is slowly spreading through my entire body. Once it envelops me, I will come all over his face.
But he knows this. He knows my body. Seconds before I do, he pulls his face from me and stands. I let out a gasp of air, wanting him to keep going, but also wanting him inside of me. I want to feel his cock stretching me. I want him to fill me with everything he has.
I’m still bent over, and he rubs the head of his cock against my lips. He presses it in slowly, and then pulls it out. He rubs it again, and I moan.
I am about to reach behind, grab it and shove it in myself, when he does it for me. I gasp as it slides into my tight pussy. One inch at a time. I shift my legs open, giving him extra room as he continues to push his thick cock all the way up to the hilt.
Inside of me now, he slowly pulls it back until it is about to pop out of me. As it reaches this point, he pushes himself forward again, all the way to the base. In and out, back and forth, he goes. He starts off slowly, and I get used to it. He increases in tempo, and I groan in pleasure. He increases again, and I scream.
His hand comes down on my firm ass, slapping me. I scream again, and I tell him to do it again. He does.
He punishes me. Harder, faster, he moves. In and out, back and forth. I bounce, too, moving my hips in rhythm to his own.
It has only been a few minutes, but I can already feel myself about to come. It was always going to be this way. He knows how to bring me to climax. He knows exactly what I want and how to give it to me. But more than that, I know that he is close, too.
As he punishes me, I feel his movements become more erratic, more unstable. He stops sliding all the way out. He grinds me now. His thrusts become harder, faster, shorter. His hands grip my ass. One of his hands grabs my hair and yanks it down.
I feel the fire in my belly again. I feel it spreading. I feel his cock, pulsating, stiffening, about to explode. It feels so damn good swelling inside of me, pressing against my pleasure points and beckoning me to release all over him. He’s taught me how to let go of any of my shyness in the bedroom and give myself over to him. I love the way he dominates me and forces me to come over and over before he finally takes his turn.
We don’t need to say anything. There is no need for him to warn me or me to warn him. He knew how to make me explode, and I was damn good at returning the favor. We were made for each other, and we knew it.
Together, at the same time, we come. My body stiffens as an electric pulse surges itself through my body. I feel his hot, sticky load fill me up. My toes scrunch, my back arches and I scream.
And once we are done, once he is empty, he stays inside of me. We both fall forward on the couch. He kisses the back of my neck and strokes my hair. I take his hand in mine and wrap my fingers in his.
He pulls himself from me and lays on the couch so I can snuggle into him. I do just that. And together, the two of us lie on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sure, it’s going to be hard without Ben here every day, but I have Blake, and as long as he is by my side, everything will be okay.
Life is just too good, and I have him to thank for that. He’s mine and I’m his. Forever and ever.
Revenge F*ck
Revenge is a dish best served hot and sweaty
It started as revenge.
A simple way to punish my ex-husband.
Fucking his divorce lawyer, Eric.
It wasn’t supposed be anything more.
But when he touches me, it sets me on fire.
I don’t want to stop.
Yet how can we carry on when it risks my divorce settlement?
Maybe Eric is the one using me.
Screwing me and screwing me over at the same time.
What if I’m the one being played?
*** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***
CHAPTER ONE
KATE
I could really use a margarita right now. Big one, shoved to the top with limes that have been marinating in tequila for three days, pink salt. Extra tip for one of those tiny umbrellas in the glass and a bartender who replaces the empty glass with a full one before I notice. Once I get out of here, I am going to have at least three. Bare minimum.
“I don’t think what we’re asking for is beyond the realm of reason.” This from the attorney in an expensive suit and tie. Although he is working for my ex, I can’t help but think about what the attorney looks like without his shirt. I have a feeling, deep, deep down, that he is very fuckable.
“It’s quite respectable,” he says with a hint of a smirk.
“Bullshit.” I mutter and innocently examine my nails. Vivian kicks me under the table but I don’t acknowledge it. That would require me to look like I give a shit and shatter the illusion I’m concocting.
“Documented how, exactly?” the lawyer smirks again. “The internet? We both know a few tabloid photos aren’t admissible in court.”
“We’re not in court, Mr. Stevens. We’re in mediation. Surely you remember there is a difference?” Vivian turns to cock an eyebrow at our mediator, a staunch older woman with a severe librarian bun and laser beams for eyeballs.
The woman doesn’t say anything and scratches a few notes in her notepad. If I was footing the bill for this nonsense, I’d be livid. It’s my ex’s money, David’s bank account, the one under lock and key, that was responsible though, which means I don’t mind wasting as many hours as margaritas I am waiting to drink.
“This all comes back down to your client’s insistence,” the sexy asshole lawyer says, “that there be no prenuptial agreement. My client recommended it for protection of all parties and your client declined it. By law, she isn’t entitled to anything beyond what we are offering. You won’t find better with a judge.”
“Bullshit.” Vivian and I say in tandem. She comes off less bitter than I do.
“A marriage isn’t a business contract, Mr. Stevens.”
“Quite the contrary, Mrs. West. That’s exactly what it is.”
Repeat. Ad nauseam. Every day until I fall over dead. The sexy asshole in the suit sits across an over-glossed table and rattles off reasons why I should be thankful they are offering pennies left in the corners of a cavernous bank account. My shark lawyer calls him an asshat and tells him to try again. Robolibrarian glares at everyone and sighs heavily because no one listens to her.
And then there’s David, my ex. I don’t look at him because I don’t want to ruin my shoes. At this rate, who knows when I’d be able to afford a new pair. He’s staring, though. Intently. Like a lion on the savanna who can’t quite determine if he’s hungry or horny.