Forgotten Love: A BWWM Pregnancy Billionaire Love Story

by Cher Etan

  That Monday though, Frances had been busy; some book thing that had been suddenly rescheduled from the weekend. So Allen had been…out of sorts. The negativity in the house had spilled over into Tuesday and when he had come home, he’d found Frances in the kitchen, arms crossed, ready for battle.

  “How long am I going to be on double secret probation?” she’d asked glaring at him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said crossing over to the wine bar to pour himself a whiskey. He was too sober for this conversation.

  “I’m talking about the fact that you sulk every time I go out for some book function and I just want to know if that’s a permanent situation or something you plan to get over some time soon.”

  Allen poured a second glass of whiskey and kept silent.

  “What? You stonewalling me now Al? Me?” Frances demanded.

  “I’m not stonewalling anyone Frannie Fran, I’m drinking my whiskey and avoiding an argument.”

  “You’d do better to avoid an argument by not sulking in the first place,” Frances bit out.

  Allen turned around suddenly, slamming his glass down on the counter so the liquid jumped and spilled. “Fine. I’m sorry I was ‘sulking’ or whatever. I’ll try to be happy to not spend any time with you from now on.”

  “Oh, grow up,” Frances replied in irritation and stalked off down the hall to their room. Allen took a breath to steady his rapidly rising ire and followed her. He slammed the bedroom door after he walked in, startling her and making her spin around to face him in surprise.

  “What?” she got out before he was on her like a shark swallowing its prey. He propelled her backward onto the bed and they both fell, Allen stretching his hands out to break his fall so that he wouldn’t fall on her.

  “Shut up,” he said, even though she wasn’t exactly trying to talk. His lips came down and fastened onto hers, the caress more angry than tender. Frances wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in anyway, softening in a way that let him know she yielded, she submitted to him; whatever he wanted, he could have. He didn’t even have to ask. Well, what he wanted was all of it, all of her, all the time. It was all consuming, this feeling in his chest that caused him to rip her clothes from her body with controlled savagery and bite at her lip just so he could mark her, everyone would know who she belonged to for weeks to come. Her delicate honey complexion showed every bruise for as long as it took to heal. The site of the redness on her lip was like a red flag to a bull. Allen’s vision went hazy and he tore at his fly, not really coordinated enough to get them off efficiently. Then her hands were on him and he took his own away, letting her relieve him of his jeans and his shirt and his boxers. He stood naked and trembling before her as she leaned in and licked a line up his painfully hard penis. He shivered in reaction and snapped his hips forward, seeking the warmth of her mouth even as she moved away. She got on her knees and took off her shirt which was hanging half on, half off her. Her eyes were steady on him as he took in her body.

  “Frannie,” he growled taking a step forward and putting one knee on the bed.

  “Al,” she breathed in reply, leaning forward to place her lip on the side of his mouth, tongue peeking out to taste. “Fuck me,” she whispered as she took his ear between her teeth.

  “Uh,” he groaned as he circled her waist with his hands and threw her backward so she fell sprawled onto the bed, legs spread wide. “Fran,” he whispered as he covered her body with his, penetrating her in one long thrust as his breath caught in his chest and he literally felt his heart stop. Her legs came up as she held onto them with her hands, giving him full access to her wet warmth. Hips snapping with vigor and speed, he rutted into her; mouth open and breath coming fast and hard and hoarse. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he listened to the sounds she was making; full of want and lust and need. Allen’s stomach hurt with the need to be deep inside her and he doubled his efforts, the friction creating an impossible heat that fueled the fires of his passion.

  “Fran,” he bit out, his lungs empty of oxygen as he forgot to breath. Her hands let go of her legs which wrapped themselves around his middle as her hands inched up to tangle with his. Her back arched propelling him even deeper into her as she moaned, eyes fluttering as her internal muscles shivered with sensitivity. He thrust harder into her, reaching down to capture her lips as he felt his orgasm bearing down on him.

  “Come with me,” he murmured as he fucked deeper and deeper into her. She made a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, threw her head back and shuddered into her completion. He let himself go as she did, happy to be in sync with her at least in this one thing. He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, not bothering to remove his weight from her chest for a moment. Too fucked out to care how heavy he was. She uttered no word of protest so Allen assumed she was too well fucked to care too. Eventually though, he moved to the side, leaving his hand around her as his head found that hollow in her neck to nestle into.

  “I love you,” he murmured, his version of apology.

  “Yeah, I know. I love you too,” she replied. “Just sometimes, I’m not sure I like you.”

  Allen laughed, “You like me just fine. You just can’t remember it when you’re annoyed.”

  Frances smiled. “Touché,” she said closing her eyes.

  “So…friends again?” he asked sleepily.

  “Best Friends,” she replied dropping of to sleep.

  Three weeks’ later, she’d been in an accident, reversing out of their driveway.

  Chapter 6

  Hey Kareem, according to my book we’re pretty close so I have something to ask you. When you get this message could you call me back?

  Frances hit the send button and then sat back on her chair. She was in her study, spying on her own life through her laptop. She’d looked at her Facebook page, which had mostly writing-related stuff and a lot of photos of her and Allen all dressed up attending various things. Or herself alone attending various things. Her updates were funny, sarcastic and self deprecating; it looked like, online anyway, she had it all together. Her twitter was even more work-related with announcements of various locations where she’d be doing book signings and appearances. There were a few personal posts, also funny or self deprecating. Very few of them had anything to do with her actual life. She sighed, resolving to go make some coffee and think about more important matters…like the constant, 24/7 nausea that was assailing her life right now; or the fact that she and Allen were living in limbo thanks to her memory loss. Her phone went off, taking her out of her head for a bit.

  “Girl, whatchu goin through?” Kareem’s voice said.

  “I’m just…I’m pregnant,” she blurted out and held her breath for his/her reaction.

  “What?” Kareem yelled into her receiver, making her move the phone as far from her ear as it could go.

  “From that reaction, I take it this isn’t good news?” she said when the echo had dissipated.

  “No! Of course it's…it's just that…I…I mean it's great,” he stuttered to a stop at last.

  “Like…seriously? Could you sound less devastated about it then?”

  “I’m sorry. It's just that…” Kareem sighed. “Babies are so permanent.”

  “And this relationship isn’t right?” she finished for him.

  “What makes you say that?” Kareem asked at once.

  “I figured that was what you meant,” Frances said.

  “No, I just, God Fran, I’m still in love with you, you know that,” he said in a defeated tone.

  “What? Really? No, I didn’t fucking know that. It didn’t say that in my book,” she protested, completely thrown by this confession. “Is this something you and I like…talk about or…?” Her breathing was coming hard and fast. Just what kind of tangled up love life did she have?

  “Nah, of course we don’t talk about it. I mean I made a choice and so did you. We live with the consequences.”

  “It sounds so complicate
d, why are we such good friends then?”

  “Because that’s all we can be,” Kareem said.

  “So…if you weren’t…and I wasn’t…” Frances stuttered.

  “Naw…Allen always came first with you. Even when we were together…” Kareem sighed.

  “But…I didn’t cheat on you or nothin did I?” she asked afraid of the answer.

  “No, of course not. You were the best girlfriend a guy could ask for.”

  “Well…that’s a relief,” Frances said with a laugh. “In light of that though, you still wanna come spend some time with us? Maybe add to the awkwardness factor in my life a little?”

  “Baby, I can’t wait,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Well…good. Because you seem like a really good guy.”

  “Unlike Allen you mean?”

  “That is not what I said,” Frances protested.

  “You don’t need to front for me girl, I know you.”

  Frances sighed, “I just…I’m having a hard time figuring him out. One moment he is wildly attractive, the next he’s just such a jackass. And then there’s the whole ‘I’m pregnant’ thing so I don’t know if it's that messing with my mind or it’s the amnesia or it's just Allen.”

  “Probably all three?” Kareem suggested.

  Frances sighed, “Hurry up and come to town Kareem. I really wanna meet you.”

  “I will. Hold on okay? It's just another week.”

  “Okay, I will,” Frances said.

  “Bye girlfriend,” Kareem said softly.

  “Bye…boygirlfriend,” Frances replied making Kareem laugh.

  She felt a lot better after that conversation though and decided to look at her draft folder to see what she was working on. Maybe she still had writing skills. She could hear the chef pottering about in the kitchen. She really wanted a sandwich but she was afraid to go and ask him to make one, or to do it herself lest he be offended. He looked like a really uppity sort. If she didn’t get something inside her soon though, she might just start eating out her stomach…

  She stood up and crept to the kitchen, peering around the wall to see what the chef was up to. There was a plate on the kitchen island. On the plate was a steak, some salad and a huge baked potato. Frances could feel her mouth water just looking at it.

  “Are you going to have your lunch now or not?” the chef said not looking at her.

  “Er…is that mine?” she asked tentatively.

  The chef looked around in an exaggerated way. “Do you see anyone else around here?” he asked. Frances wanted to say that ‘yeah, I see you’, but she didn’t quite have the nerve. She walked slowly forward and picked up the plate, covering it with her other hand as if someone was attempting to take food from her plate. She walked into the living room, plopped on the chair and switched on the TV; watching some entertainment channel as she ate. As far as she could tell, pop culture had gone to shit while she was forgettin’ it in the hospital. Who the fuck were these Kardashians and why were they everywhere?

  She fell asleep after lunch and woke to Allen shaking her.

  “Hi,” he said smiling down at her.

  “Hi,” she replied looking up at him with raised brows.

  “You’re not answering your phone. I got three calls from your book people asking me panicked questions so I thought I’d come and find out if anything was the matter. Since you weren’t picking up my calls either,” he was smiling as he said it though so Frances figured she wasn’t in trouble.

  “I didn’t hear the phone. Must have really slept deep,” she said.

  “Yeah, and your phone was in your office,” Allen said holding it up.

  “Should I call them back now?” she asked.

  “Nah. Tomorrow is soon enough; I told them you were still in no condition to be bothered. They weren’t happy.”

  “What do they want from me?” she asked shifting her legs off the couch so he could sit beside her.

  Allen shrugged, sat down and put her legs in his lap, massaging her feet. “I’m guessing they need to reschedule your missed dates or something,” he said eyes on her feet. He was making electric shocks shoot up her legs to her center. Just from massaging her feet. Who knew.

  “Great. I mean, not great. Do they know I’m pregnant and nauseous?” she asked.

  Allen shook his head and then looked up at her face, “Unless you told them?”

  “Nope, don’t even know who they are,” she said.

  “Okay, so they don’t know. I guess we can call them tomorrow and I can help you where I can,” he said.

  “Don’t you like…have work to do?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I can work from here, and I have a myriad of assistants and lackeys and minions to do my bidding when I’m not there. Don’t even sweat it,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  “Well…good then, I could really use the help. Sometimes all this seems so overwhelming.”

  “I know; I mean, I don’t know but I can imagine that it's not easy for you. And you’ve been taking it like a champ. I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna look after you and we’re going to be alright,” he said.

  She stared at him. “Okay…thanks,” she said slowly.

  He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I owe you,” he said.

  “What do you owe me?” she asked puzzled.

  “My life? My sanity? Everything?” he said with a small laugh.

  Frances put her chin on her knuckle. “That’s rather vague,” she said narrowing her eyes at him and causing him to laugh out loud.

  “You’ve read your book right?”

  She nodded her head.

  “So you know that you literally picked me up off the street?”

  “Yeah, that’s what it said. I wasn’t sure how true that was. You really were a street kid?”

  “For a few days, before you met me and rescued me. I’d probably be dead now if it wasn’t for you.”

  “But…you had a home to go to,” she said in puzzlement.

  “Yeah well…” Allen shrugged. “Anyway, my point is it's probably time to balance the scales and pay you back for taking such epic care of me all of these years.”

  “I think you already did that. You brought me back to live with you when the police found you, right? Took me off the street? Paid my tuition?”

  “It was selfish. You were the only person in my life who liked me for me rather than what I had.”

  “You can’t know that. Not for sure.”

  Allen smiled. “And that’s exactly why I can,” he said cryptically then stood up. “I want some coffee. Do you want some coffee?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen. Frances got up on her knees, leaning on the back of the sofa to watch him go.

  “The Chef’s still in there,” she whispered frantically at him as he headed to the kitchen. Allen turned to smile at her.

  “So?” he asked.

  “I don’t think he likes people just going in there,” she said.

  Allen laughed out loud and then disappeared around the corner. Frances sighed and sat back down waiting to hear the explosion. Nothing happened for a time and then Allen was back with coffee. He wasn’t alone.

  “Frannie? Meet Miguel; he’s our cook. You and he get along very well. Like a house on fire,” he said as if he was speaking to a kid. Miguel stepped forward and held both hands out to her.

  “Ms. Hilton, I am sorry for your troubles,” he said taking both hands into his and kissing first one then the other.

  “Oh,” Frances said unable to process or even think of a single thing to say.

  He put her hands down in her lap, bowed to her and disappeared back into the kitchen. Frances watched him go with her mouth open.

  “Okay. So I’ve been skulking all day for no reason?” she asked. Allen laughed.

  “I guess you have. Did you want anything else from the kitchen?”

  “Well…I could eat,” she said with a twist of her lips.

  “Miguel!” Allen called m
aking Frances wince; so rude.

  The cook came back round the corner, “Yes, Mr. Allen.”

  “Frances would like some food,” Allen said.

  “Ah, I have some nice carrots and tomatoes, maybe some cheese? I could make a nice salad,” he suggested.

  “Okay, that sounds good but could I have something with that, maybe some French fries? A hot dog…?”

  Allen laughed, “Shall I order some pizza instead; sounds like you want some serious junk food.”

  “Pizza sounds good,” Frances brightened then she turned to face Miguel. “Not that I don’t appreciate the salad; I’ll eat that too,” she pacified.

  Miguel smiled, “How about I bring the salad and then make you a pizza?”

  Frances bowed to him, “You are a man among men Miguel.”

  *****

  Frances seemed to see saw between hunger and nausea. One seemed to always precipitate the other; it was a never ending circle of misery. She was surprised at how patient Allen was with her. He began going to work in the morning only, spending his afternoons with her. She’d canceled her speaking engagements because she wasn’t confident about being able to pull that off. But she figured she could do book signings; she could still sign her name after all and at least she was sure of what it was. She was having a hard time accepting that she was a published author popular enough to have these problems; either way, she was grateful.

  When they came home from these functions, Allen would rub her feet and baby her and make her feel like a princess and when they went to bed, he said ‘goodnight’ and turned his back on her, dropping off to sleep with apparently no problem. Frances was having trouble sleeping though. All the attention, the massages, the flirting, the eye contact; it got her all heated up and she was all primed up with nowhere to go. She wondered if it was pregnancy hormones making her so horny or was it just Allen? She didn’t feel like she could talk to him about it because for all she knew, he was feeling absolutely nothing about this whole messed up situation. Sure he was attentive and loving…but maybe it was because he felt he owed her rather than any interest he had in jumping her bones. I mean, what kind of guy had this much self-control? They slept in the same bed every night and he didn’t so much as cop a feel. It was humiliating.