SEXT ME

by Layla Valentine

  “Thank you,” I breathe, before turning my back on her and rushing out of the building.

  The taxi driver is waiting just like I asked, and I quickly direct him in the direction of Dillon’s apartment complex. That strange look returns, and this time, he apparently can’t find it in him to keep quiet.

  “Miss, do you know Mr. Bradshaw personally?” he asks curiously.

  I stiffen, smiling politely but refusing to answer. Taking my silence as an obvious affirmation, he chuckles under his breath but continues to drive.

  “I see a big tip in my future,” he sings under his breath.

  I roll my eyes, nearly on the edge of my seat as we arrive at the complex.

  “Want me to wait?” he guesses with a faint smile.

  “No, no. That will be all,” I mutter, giving him his cash before stepping out.

  I manage to sneak past the doorman, who is in the middle of conversation with a woman who looks as if she could be a lingerie model. I can’t help wondering if she’s here for Dillon as well.

  Shaking off the thought, I race towards the elevator and press the button for the top floor. I’m blessedly alone in the elevator, and as the numbers rise, so does my heart rate.

  This could be the worst mistake of my life. If he doesn’t want to see me, there’s no telling how he’ll react.

  Stepping out of the elevator, I use the key I’ve been holding on to for nearly a year now to open the door to Dillon’s penthouse. Walking inside, I’m disappointed to see that the place seems relatively unlived-in. While some of his possessions still remain in the apartment, the air inside is stale and cold. It’s obvious he hasn’t been here for some time.

  All the same, I can’t find it within me to give up so easily. Continuing to search through the penthouse, I curse as my stomach collides with a priceless-looking vase that I remember from my last time being here.

  It crashes to the ground, and I’m not as fortunate as I had been that first day in his office, when I’d nearly destroyed his clock. Though the clock had seemed untouched, the vase shatters into what seems like a million pieces. In a blind panic, I hunch over to try to clean up the mess I’ve made. It’s a bit too late for that, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.

  I’m pulled out of my reverie as someone clears their throat behind me. The situation seems all too familiar, and I’m filled with hope as I turn around.

  There he is.

  Dillon Bradshaw. Love of my life, father of my children, and the man with the power to ruin my life, if he wants to.

  Oh, boy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dillon

  I can only watch with faint amusement as Charlotte goes from frightened, to excited, to frightened again, all in one split second. I haven’t been in the penthouse for some time, but I happened to hear from my secretary that there would be a surprise waiting here for me.

  I had hoped it would be the woman I so adore, but I certainly hadn’t expected as much. Tiffany had simply told me that I should check in, and my secretary has never let me down.

  “Charlotte,” I say warmly, and she raises her hand as if she wants to reach out and touch me.

  She refrains, however, drawing her hand back towards herself and pressing it to her own cheek. Tears begin to pool in her eyes, and as much as I want to tell her not to get emotional, I have a hard time following my own advice. It’s been so long. It’s been so goddamn long!

  I step towards her, and her breath hitches as she watches my every move.

  “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” I joke awkwardly, managing a smile.

  I can feel the tears beginning to roll down my cheeks as well. Damn my adoration for this woman.

  “Dillon,” she breathes, the name sounding so sweet on her lips.

  It’s all I can do to keep from pushing forward and capturing those lips with my own, but God knows how she’ll react. She seems to almost expect me to start shouting at her, and while I wish she thought better of me, I have to consider the conditions under which she departed the States. I can’t blame her for expecting me to be angry.

  Truthfully, however, I’m the happiest I’ve been in months.

  The media backlash from the story of our deal getting out was hard to deal with, and my public relations team is still struggling to tie up the loose ends. They still continue to encourage me to strike Charlotte from my mind and forget she exists.

  I refused to do so then, and as she stands before me now, I find that there is no way I could have easily banished her from my thoughts. In the time she’s been gone, I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with my feelings. All the anger, the sense of betrayal, was nearly immediately wiped away when I received news that she had left the country.

  There was a sense of certainty that I would never see her again. The sea of turmoil we seemed to toss each other back and forth across made me think that perhaps I was better off without her. Moreover, that she was better off without me. Seeing her now, however, quaking with barely restrained sobs barely a foot away from me, I know I can’t survive another day without her.

  I rush forward, drawing her into my arms. She immediately buries her face in my shoulder, her tears soaking my shirt.

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to hurt you. After all we’d been through, and you leaving me at the doctor’s office, I wanted to hurt you as badly as I’d been hurt. The pain was thousands of times worse than that I felt losing my job. I lost the man I love. I can’t say I never meant to hurt you, because I did,” she chokes out, tears continuing to spill freely from the intense green eyes I’ve missed so much.

  Though I know the confession must be hurting her, I’m grateful that we’re finally being open with each other.

  “I understand. For a time, I wanted to see you hurt as well. After you released our story to the media, I lost dozens of potential deals. Hell, I probably lost hundreds.” I chuckle, and she clings tighter to me. “We’ve treated each other rather badly, haven’t we? For two people who claim to love each other.”

  She draws away, looking me square in the eye.

  “I do love you, Dillon. I never stopped,” she breathes.

  Unable to contain myself any longer, I press our lips together in a passionate, loving kiss. She presses against me, tangling her hands in my hair as our embrace intensifies. I draw away to catch my breath, and she stares at me so tenderly that my heart could break.

  “I never stopped, either. That’s why I’ve been tracking you since my team managed to locate you in Australia,” I admit. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she reaches up to cup my chin. “The lottery was my doing, as was the doctor that I insisted keep an eye on you at any given time you were in public. Our doctor, the best in the business. I even paid for his hair implants,” I laugh.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe you. You really do care,” she says, pressing our lips together once more.

  It’s all I can do to keep from ripping her clothes off, but I don’t know how comfortable Charlotte will be with that until after the babies come. The babies!

  I jerk away, looking down at her stomach. I gently press my palm against the swollen bump. She shouldn’t have flown while she’s so close to her due date, but I can’t find it in me to be angry at her. She wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see her, it seems.

  However, as I’m considering her stomach, something strange occurs. There’s a large and rapidly growing wet spot on the crotch of her maternity pants. My eyes widen, and she meets my gaze with wide eyes of her own.

  “Oh my God. I think my water just broke,” she gasps, bracing against me as to keep from collapsing.

  I draw her into my arms, carrying her bridal style as I had when we first learned about the triplets.

  “I knew it could happen at eight months, b-but it seems so early! The plane ride must have jostled them,” she cries out, tears streaming down her face.

  The thought has occurred to me as well
, but I simply press my lips to her cheek and rush out of the penthouse. The elevator is blessedly waiting on our floor, and I lurch inside, holding her close to my chest. She’s babbling somewhat deliriously, and I can tell she’s furious at herself.

  “Charlotte, my love, calm down. They’re going to be fine. They’re going to be just perfect, like their mommy. We just need to get to the hospital, all right? Everything is fine,” I assure her.

  Milo is some miles away, taking the day off, so I sprint towards my sports car while I hold my beloved tenderly in my grasp. Unlocking the door, I gently buckle her in before running to the other side. Jumping into the car, I rev the engine and speed out of the parking lot.

  “I can’t…I can’t breathe,” she gasps, and I press the gas pedal down even harder. I reach over to grasp her hand, managing to keep us on the road as we make our way to the hospital. I could care less if a cop tries to stop us, all I care about is ensuring my family is okay. Fortunately, we zoom into the hospital parking lot without delay and I carry her the remaining distance.

  A nurse helps her into a wheelchair once we’re inside, and as much as I don’t want to let her go, I have to see her taken care of.

  “She’s having a hard time breathing,” I explain urgently, and the nurse looks at Charlotte intently. “She’s supposed to have a C-section; we were told at our last appointment together,” I continue frantically, racing after the nurse as she rushes down the halls.

  “Crash cart! Get a crash cart ready!” she yells, and I feel as if my heart drops into my stomach.

  I try my best to remain calm while Charlotte is in so much pain. My beautiful lover, my beautiful babies…please let me not lose them over my own stupidity. If I’d never pushed her away, she never would have left the country. If she hadn’t left the country, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

  “Dillon, hold my hand,” Charlotte calls out softly, and I race to keep up as the nurse wheels us into the maternity ward.

  Another nurse wheels the crash cart beside the bed, and the two of them work quickly to get Charlotte settled in. Placing an oxygen mask on her, the first turns to look at me carefully.

  “Are you the father?” she asks bluntly, and I nod my head fervently.

  “Please, tell me she’s going to be okay,” I beg.

  Tears roll down Charlotte’s cheeks, but she manages to even out her breathing with the help of the oxygen mask.

  “The doctor will be here…well, here he is,” the nurse announces, gesturing to the familiar man.

  I turn tearful eyes upon him, and he gestures his hands in a calming motion. He steps forward to consider Charlotte, tutting under his breath.

  “When I you boarding the plane, I was worried, so I went ahead and tagged along. You have nothing to worry about; you’re simply going into labor a bit sooner than expected, so if you two could take a few breaths…” he says soothingly.

  Charlotte sighs in relief, and I narrow my eyes at the doctor.

  “You knew she could get hurt and you didn’t stop her?” I demand, but the doctor ignores me.

  “Dillon, please!” Charlotte cries out, and I look over to see the nurses changing her into a hospital gown with the opening in the front. I rush to her side, gripping her hand once more. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave,” she whispers, gripping my hand as tightly as she is able.

  “Never. Never again,” I vow. The nurses begin to set up the room for the cesarean section, and I tighten my grip on Charlotte’s hand, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.

  “All right. Let’s begin then, shall we?” the doctor announces, beginning the procedure.

  Some fifteen minutes later, and our family has grown by three. The nurses ensure each of the babies is healthy before placing them on Charlotte’s chest. I can’t help but gape at the tiny little beings, so small and fragile. I reach out to brush my fingertips over one of the babies’ heads, tears gathering in my eyes.

  “You did it, my love. You did it,” I murmur softly, leaning in to kiss the woman I love.

  “We did it,” she corrects wearily.

  Once Charlotte’s been stitched up, the doctors and nurses step away to give us a bit of privacy. The triplets already seem to vary in personality, one crying, one cooing, and the other simply watching in bleary-eyed silence. Charlotte watches them through tired, happy eyes, leaning down to kiss each one of them.

  “So, about the new mansion…” she begins, looking at me with a certain mischievous gleam in her eye. I chuckle, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Three rooms for three boys, and a playroom on the ground floor. I…had hoped you would come back,” I admit.

  She hums thoughtfully for a moment, staring at our newborn triplets. Suddenly, her lips curl into a big smile and she begins to giggle softly. I tilt my head curiously, watching her with a smile of my own.

  “What’s so funny, Charlotte?” I ask with a chuckle.

  She wipes a tear from her eye, seeming to debate telling me. After a moment, however, she gives in.

  “Oh, I was just thinking…we’re going to need to hire a maid.”

  The End

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  Dr. Ohhh

  Ana Sparks & Layla Valentine

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  Copyright 2017 by Ana Sparks and Layla Valentine

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Jessica

  I heard giggles and smiled, relaxing further into the porch swing. It was the first time in what felt like ages that I’d heard women gossiping and I hadn’t had to go over and talk to them about cosmetics.

  Being the vice president of a small beauty products company meant I was often the one who had to do all the face-to-face work to earn new clients. Not that I disliked my job—far from it—but sometimes it could be draining. It felt like a rare treat to be around people because I enjoyed their company and not because I was trying to get them to invest in BeYoutyful Cosmetics.

  No, today I was hearing giggles because the bride and all of my fellow bridesmaids were slightly tipsy after several bottles of wine. A weekend retreat to a cabin on Lake Erie hadn’t sounded like the most exciting of bachelorette parties, but it was what Mary had wanted. So, I had booked the trip for us, as my maid of honor duty.

  It had been a bit of a drive, and the girls who didn’t live in Pennsylvania had had to fly in, but it had all been worth it for the relaxed, happy look on Mary’s face as we went hiking, swam in the lake, and relaxed in the sun. I had done my best to support my friend, but I knew how this whole wedding business had been taking a toll on Mary.

  Personally, if I got married—when, I forcibly reminded myself—I was going to make it a much smaller, less stressful affair.

  The laughter and the women, eight of them including Mary, spilled out onto the porch of the cabin. She’d insisted on an even number of bridesmaids—something about symmetry—and though I was indifferent about the numbers, I was glad of a slightly larger group. It meant that there were times that I could slip away and snatch a moment alone to breathe.

  Now, however, it seemed that the party had come to me.

 
; “Never have I ever, Jessica!” Mary said, her cheeks flushed.

  She flopped down almost on top of me, so I playfully shoved her to the side.

  “Really?”

  I looked around at all the other bridesmaids, none of whom looked like they were joking despite all being bright-eyed and pink-cheeked from alcohol.

  “Are we in high school?”

  “Pshh, it’ll be fun,” Lanie slurred.

  Lanie had always been a lightweight. She pushed her dark hair out of her face and pointed at me.

  “Your eyes are like the lake.” She paused. “Because they’re blue.”

  I laughed. “You, darling, are drunk.”

  “Just tipsy,” Lanie said happily, falling and landing with her head conveniently on the lap of Jane, Mary’s roommate from college.

  Jane looked torn between shoving Lanie off and petting her like a cat.

  “You’d know all about high school,” Amanita declared. She was the only other bridesmaid, besides me, that had known Mary since we were kids. We’d all gone to high school together. The others—Lanie, Jane, Tessa, Jacki and Elian—were all women that Mary had worked with or met in college.

  Mary was the kind of girl who made friends easily, unlike me. I’m usually the girl at the party who’s just sitting there, nursing a beer and watching everyone. I like to observe. It’s helped me in my job a lot, actually, because thanks to all that observing, I’m good at knowing how people behave, what they want, and how to talk to them.

  Jane had settled for petting Lanie, running her fingers gently over her hair. Lanie was another college friend of ours. Mary and I had ended up both going to NYU, determined to soak up the bright lights of the city. Lanie had been my roommate, and Jane had been Mary’s.