by Leah Holt
Twisting carefully, I tried to see if August was awake. His face was slightly buried in his pillow, his arms were folded across his chest, mouth partially open as he breathed with a soft piggy kind if snort I was just able to hear between the rise and fall of his chest.
He's still out.
Pushing up onto my elbow, I made an attempt to slip off the bed. The weight of his arm fell around my shoulders and he groaned as he shifted his body closer to mine and pulled me in more at the same time. His cock speared my back, hard as a rock, and I laid in stunned silence.
What the hell do I do?
Pinching the tip of his index finger, I lifted his hand off my shoulder, and laid his arm on the bed behind me. Scooting a little, August's arm dropped back into place, curling around my neck as he coughed and held on tight.
Moving his arm again, I tried to slink my hips off the bed before he could latch onto me for a third time, but I failed. I didn't even make it an inch before his arm was tossed over my chest and he let out a sleepy laugh.
“Are you awake?” I asked.
“That depends, what do you consider awake?”
“I'd say you're awake now, but in case you didn't notice, someone else got up much earlier.”
“Wha—” he started to ask, but stopped. Jerking his hips back, I could feel him adjusting himself as he put some space between us. “Not how I expected you two to meet, but I guess he got excited and couldn't wait any longer. I don't blame him though, you're gorgeous.”
Sitting up, I laid my hands in my lap. “Tell him to settle down, because we have a lot to discuss before he gets any face to face time.”
August chuckled as he yawned, stretching his arms high up over his head. “You're right, we do. But first coffee.” Climbing out of bed, he stretched his arms again, letting out another big yawn. “How do you take it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your coffee, how do you take your coffee?” Laughing, he asked, “What did you think I meant?” A sly smile spread on his face, that fucking dimple collapsed like a sink hole in his cheek, and my heart skipped a beat.
That dimple is going to be the death of me.
“One sugar and cream if you have it,” I said, trying to act casual. But I didn't feel casual at all. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest, I felt like my body was on fire and that the room had dropped into the southern hemisphere, increasing by fifty degrees.
There was something about watching him standing there in a tight white tee-shirt and red basketball shorts that made my entire body light up. The shirt hugged his back, making his muscles pop. He had bed head, and even that looked incredibly sexy on him.
“Cream, huh? So you like sweet, do you also like salty? Because I have something just for that.”
“Oh, what is it?” Peering up at him, my brain was so empty it didn't register his dirty comment at all.
“You don't really need me to explain it, do you?” he asked. Cocking a hard brow, his lips twisted. “Because if you do. . .” Pausing, August went silent.
I assumed he stopped talking because he wanted to give me time to replay the comment in my head. And then it struck me like a freight train.
Dirty dirty man.
My hands became clammy, sticking to the blanket as I tried to rub my palms up and down my thighs to dry them off. There was a nervous twitch in my eye, and I was certain that I probably looked like the crazy librarian from my high school back home.
Her name was Mrs. Fields, she had white hair, and wore thick rimmed glasses that made her eyes the size of saucers. The thing that stood out the most with her was how her face would twist and contort in a way that looked like she had just shit herself if she found a book that had been damaged in the book return.
Not that I blamed her for being upset, but for one, she was dealing with a group of kids, and two, no one except me probably gave a shit about the books anyway.
I'm such a dumb-ass.
“Oh, no, no, I get it.” My eyes shot to his waist, finding the outline of his cock against the fabric.
I knew what I felt against my back, and to be honest, what I felt was far more intimidating than the shadowed piece behind his shorts.
August had made his way to the door, catching the path of my eyes. “Good,” he said, winking and giving me a cheeky smile. “This is going to be more fun than I thought.”
I didn't have a response. How do you respond to that when you know at some point you're going to have sex with someone who was ultimately a total stranger?
One night stands happened on occasion, mostly by accident or poor decisions, with a little alcohol coaxing you along. Relationships came and went, some were intense and emotional, others felt more like a waste of time.
This was different.
The whole point was to get pregnant. There was no room for a regular relationship. It was sex, baby, and done. Our entire agreement was based on sex, unprotected, skin on skin, sex.
I could hear August milling around in the apartment, so I stayed right where I was. Smoothing my hair with my hands, I wiped the sleepy crust from my eyes and blew my breath against my palm in an attempt to see how bad it was.
Could be worse, I thought to myself as I looked around the room.
It was the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, a world of difference from my small apartment.
The walls were sage green with light oak wood flooring. A beige area rug was in the center of the room. The kind of rug that's thick with shag and has probably destroyed a vacuum or two.
My mind quickly went to darker thoughts, dirtier thoughts, wondering how many women had possibly been naked on that rug? Maybe even a few homemade porns were created with rug burned knees.
Kay said he didn't have many girlfriends. I wonder why?
Pushing the images away, I checked out the rest of the space. A gentlemen's chest sat against the far wall to my left, and a rustic white dresser was against the wall at the foot of the bed.
There were pictures of random objects on the walls all in black and white, some with a single pop of color. A pair of dirty sneakers was on the wall above the headboard, the only color in the picture were the daisies set in the background. A mailbox with the number one hundred eighty one in gold on the sheer face was hanging beside the dresser. All the pictures seemed random, but I still found them oddly beautiful.
“Here ya go, one sugar and cream,” August said, walking into the room and passing me a mug.
“Thank you.”
Climbing back into bed, he held his mug to his nose and inhaled a whiff. “I love the smell of coffee, I swear they should bottle it up as cologne.”
“I don't know about that. You might love the smell, but that doesn't mean it would smell good if you wore it. Bacon smells amazing, but you don't see it being sprayed in your face when you walk through the mall.”
“Never say never.” Taking a sip, he sucked the coffee drops out of his mustache. “Imagine how many things we wouldn't have if people didn't try something different? Did you know that if it wasn't for sex, graham crackers wouldn't exist?”
“What?”
“Yeah,” he said, “Sylvester Graham wanted a food that decreased sex drive. Can you imagine?”
“No way, you're making that up.”
“I'm not, look it up if you don't believe me.”
“That's just weird.” Shaking my head, I held the mug tightly in my hands.
“So were corn flakes, they were made to stop people from getting horny and masturbating.”
“You know a lot about food and its relationship to sex.”
“I'm in the food industry, sorta,” August said. Pausing for a moment, he asked, “So, speaking of sex, what questions do you have for me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
I knew what he meant, but I hadn't had the chance to really line them up in any particular order that made sense. All my questions were floating around in my head, slamming into each other like bumper cars at a fair. And I ha
d the task of trying to pluck each one free.
“I know you have questions about this, about us, and everything in between. Now's your chance, ask away.”
“August, I don't know, I have so many questions.” Curling my fingers around the mug, I stared at the thin strips of steam as they swirled out, stretching up for my face. “The papers you sent didn't elaborate on anything very much.”
“I thought the papers were pretty cut and dry. It doesn't need to be difficult, what I need is simple.”
“Yeah, but how do we get simple from a baby? What happens between now and getting pregnant? How do we do that? What about after the baby? How are we going to live? Who will have custody—” I could feel myself unraveling, question after question tumbling out in one big ball of word vomit.
“Ella, Ella,” August said, touching my arm with enough pressure to stop me. “I know you might expect me to have an answer for everything, but I don't. I feel like there are some things that are just going to have to play out on their own.”
“So you have no idea at all, is that what you're saying?”
“No, I'm just saying, there are certain things we won't know until it's time.”
Shaking my head no, I sat up higher in the bed. “I think I'd feel better if we decided on a few of those things. Like getting pregnant, how is that going to work? Do you—are we—”
“Going to have sex?” he asked. Nodding, he stroked his jaw as his eyes grew darker. “Yes, we are. How else am I going to get you pregnant?”
“There's other ways. Invitro, medical facilities. . .” Dancing my eyes around his face, they kept falling on his mouth. I liked his lips, I liked how it felt when he kissed me, I enjoyed the taste of his tongue and how his mouth fit perfectly around mine.
“I think the old fashioned way is the way to go. I don't want a test tube baby, or someone else getting my sperm by mistake and suddenly there are twenty little Augusts running around out there. Just you, just me, and the way babies have been made since the dawn of time.”
“And when are we supposed to. . . you know. Like how soon are you planning this?”
“As soon as possible. The papers already think you're pregnant, if we wait too long the time-line won't add up. We need to get a bun in your oven asap.”
“Asap as in a few weeks, or asap as—”
“As in tonight, lets just get right to it. Why wait?”
Swallowing hard, I felt the lump lodge itself in my throat. I wanted to push back the sex, take a few more days at least to adjust. But I also knew that this was what I had signed up for.
How can he be so nonchalant about this? He's acting like I'm here to re-shingle his house, like this was just some construction based job and I needed to do it quickly before the rest of the house collapsed on itself.
“Sure, okay, we'll start tonight.”
“Really?” he asked, cocking a brow high on his forehead. “Just like that? Wow, I thought I'd have to do a little more convincing.”
“Well, this is what I am here for, right? So why wait at all? It's like a hooker asking you to take her out on a date first. It doesn't make sense when we both know what's coming.”
“I couldn't have put it better myself.” Sucking the last bit of coffee from the bottom of his mug, August stood up. “Alright, well, I have to get to the office for a little bit. Make yourself at home, there's a car downstairs for you if you decide to go out, just pick up the phone in the kitchen and dial two-four-four, Jerry will be outside when you're ready.”
Setting the cup down on his dresser, he went to his closet and pulled the doors open. Scanning the different suits, I watched as he pulled out a few different ones and held them up to his body.
“Will I be able to get in and out of here without a problem?”
“Oh shit, yeah, one second.” August grabbed his jeans off the floor from the night before and rummaged around in the pocket. “Here ya go,” he said, tossing a key to me. “That's yours, I meant to give it to you last night.”
“Thank you.” Giving him a smile, I tucked the key into my palm. “What time will you back later?”
“If everything goes well, no later than five, maybe earlier.”
“What about dinner? You said your maid was away, do you have a chef or anything I should be expecting?”
“No, I do my own cooking when I can, and when I can't Valerie, my maid, will usually throw something together for me.” Holding up a deep blue suit, he tilted his head. “What do you think?”
“It'll look good on you.” Taking a sip of my coffee, I asked, “What do you think of me making dinner tonight?”
Hooking the suit on the back of the door, he grabbed a pair of shiny back shoes and walked over to his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he took out thin black socks and a new pair of boxers. “I think that sounds perfect.”
“Alright, good. Is there anything I should know? Anything you don't like or are allergic to?”
“Nope, I'm a guy, I'm fairly easy to please, and will eat just about anything as long as it's seasoned well.”
August walked into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open as he started the shower. The water hissed on, and I waited for him to close the door. I thought maybe because we were talking he was leaving it open for the moment. But then he pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing rippling abs and a muscular back.
“Um, okay, that's good.” Keeping my eyes down, I watched the liquid in the cup, trying not to stare. “And the rest of my stuff, that's all going into storage?”
“Yeah,” he said, sticking his hand into the water to feel it. Steam was starting to spill out over the top of the glass doors and filling the room with a smoky haze. “It's my personal storage unit in the building.” August slipped his fingers into the hem of his shorts, teasingly pulling them off his hips.
I was trying so fucking hard not to look, and I swear he knew it too and was trying to entice me, throwing out that wide net and trying to reel me in.
Dipping my head lower, it didn't matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes steady. His shorts hit the floor and my eyes darted to take a peek. Catching him stepping into the shower, his firm ass was all I got see. Closing the glass doors, I watched his fuzzy outline as he wet his hair and face.
Shit, I need to pee.
“So, I need to go to the bathroom, where is there another one?”
“Is it one or two?” he asked, his voice a little louder because his ears were now filled with water.
“One,” I said.
“Just come in here, it's fine, I don't mind.”
Setting the coffee cup down in the nightstand, I climbed out of bed and the urge to pee hit me harder. “No, that's alright, I'll just use your second bathroom.”
“Ella, it's alright, you just need to piss, you can do that in here. Don't be shy, you can do it. Unless you're chicken, if you're too scared to do it, I understand.”
I think if it was anyone else it would bother me with how much they were trying to break down that stranger barrier. Not with him, with August I actually admired it.
I liked that he wanted me to feel comfortable with him. I liked that he wanted to bring us closer together when we had only met a week before. Once I signed those papers, August and I texted back and forth quite a bit, even talking on the phone a few times too.
We discussed simple things like age (he's thirty-four), birthdays, and middle names. His middle name is Norton in case you were wondering, and yes I laughed too. It was all small talk, the little things that really don't matter, but they're super easy to ask and not feel weird.
“Oh, I'm not scared, I can tell you that. I'll do it, I'll pee while you're in the shower, I don't care.”
I wasn't embarrassed to urinate with him in the same room. But I was nervous that knowing he was naked, and there was nothing but a thin sheet of glass between us, those damn butterflies might come swarming.
Sitting on the toilet, I was partially hidden behind a wall that came up to my shoulders. I could
see August in the shower, a lot more clearly than from the bed. The glass did very little to truly hide his body. It was blurry, a close comparison to drunk goggles I would think. His cock was dangling between his legs, a thick mane of dark hair surrounded the base. But the image as a whole was fuzzy.
The sound of the water splashed off the tiles and the glass, making popping noises as he ran his hands over his head and excess water was thrown to the floor.
My belly began to tumble, pussy clenching tight. Wiping, I flushed the toilet and quickly went back into the bedroom, climbing into the bed and under the covers. Pulling the blanket over my head, I forced myself into darkness.
What did I get myself into?
Chapter Fourteen
Ella
After August left for work, I poked around his place for a bit, snooping in a few closets and drawers. I didn't find anything I should worry about, not that I really knew what I'd be looking for anyway.
I suppose if I found a gun or a giant knife you might expect to see in a thrasher film, I'd probably go running for the hills. Maybe a secret stash of bloody money or a box full of fingernails, and I'd be nothing more than a very small memory in this place. Thankfully, I didn't find anything like that.
August looked like he led a fairly simple life, aside from the rich and wealthy family part. He had a lot of clothes, and more framed pictures stacked in a closet in the living room. A mantel above the fireplace held a couple pictures of August when he was younger. One where he was holding a fish almost as large as his body. Another one of him taking a sip from a frosty glass of beer and holding a small trophy.
I felt confident that if there was anything there I should be concerned about, I'd have found it. He was not a serial killer from what I could tell, and I was comfortable with the idea I had done my due-diligence and inspected thoroughly.
Taking a shower, I threw on a pair of jeans and a fitted, pink v-neck top. I wasn't much of a makeup wearer, but decided to brush my lashes with mascara and dust my cheeks with a little pop of fairy dust pink. That was the name on the bottom, I just liked the little sparkle on my skin when the sun hit it just right. My hair was tied back into a low bun on the side of my head, and a few loose strands dangled around my face.