by Sadie Grubor
Don't kill me. I couldn't help myself.
I shrug.
"I don't know what she's talking about."
Mercedes’ fingers fly over the screen of her phone. When she's done, we both turn to watch Alex playing cars and discuss some of the things she's had on her mind lately.
Fifteen minutes later, there's pounding on my door.
"Do you think it's Erik?" Mercedes slips from the stool and starts for the door.
"Wait, maybe we shouldn't answer the door." I slip to my feet and step forward.
"Mercedes," a male voice calls from the other side of the door.
"That's not Erik," I state the obvious, relief washing over me.
"Oh no." Mercedes stops a foot from the door.
"Who is—”
"Mercedes, I know you're up here. Mrs. Dorn already told me where to find you."
Alfonso. I cover my mouth so not to laugh. Felicity's text suddenly makes sense.
"I'm gonna kill her," Mercedes snarls.
I snort, unable to hold the laughter in any longer.
"Cedie!" Alex shouts. A giggle follows his exclamation.
Mercedes glares at me over her shoulder.
"I didn't do it." I put my hands up in surrender.
"Mercedes, open the door." Alfonso knocks again — hard.
Groaning loudly, she steps forward and opens the door.
"What?" she snaps.
"You told my sister I'm bad in bed?" he growls. "You told that harpy I'm bad in bed. Do you realize she would take out ad space to tell the world something like that?"
"Not my problem." Mercedes shrugs.
"Not your…Jesus woman."
Alfonso looks and sounds distressed.
"Are you done?" Mercedes crosses her arms over her chest.
"No, I'm not," he states, his voice low and ominous.
Mercedes stands silent, waiting for him to explain.
"We're going to do this again," he demands.
"Do what?"
"Sex. I'm going to prove you wrong."
"Oh my…"
Mercedes looks back at me.
"Do you hear this?"
I nod, biting my lip so I don't burst into hysterics.
She turns back to Alfonso.
"You've lost your damn mind. Why the hell would I want to have bad sex twice?"
Her head gives a little swivel in emphasis.
"Listen, there are things…I was trying to be gentle and easy," he says, his voice dropping low, but I can still hear.
"Yeah, okay," Mercedes says in her best sarcastic voice.
"I'm going to pick you up after work tomorrow." Alfonso steps back, but keeps his eyes on her. "I'm not taking no for an answer."
"Well then, how about, drop dead."
Mercedes slams the door shut and locks it.
"Tomorrow, Mercedes. I'll be here at five o'clock. Be ready and well rested."
Unable to hold the humor back any longer, I laugh so hard, I'm having trouble breathing. Alex laughs from across the room and it makes me laugh more.
"This isn't funny," Mercedes growls, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. "I'm going to beat the shit out of her."
Her fingers move fast and she presses the cell to her ear. Felicity is about to get a verbal smack down.
"I've missed you," Damon says against the knuckles he just kissed.
"It was only a couple days."
"Doesn't matter." He helps me into the back of his car while the driver puts my overnight bag into the trunk.
Slipping in behind me, the driver closes the door. We settle into the seat. His thigh presses to mine, causing me to be hyperaware of his every movement.
The car pulls away from the curb.
"Are you feeling well?"
Looking up from our touching thighs, I nod.
"Yes. The appointment is next week," I remind.
"I know." He grins.
"You're weekly updates are quite entertaining, by the way." I smile.
His grin grows into a wide smile.
"You haven't responded, so I wasn't sure how you felt about those."
The doubt in his voice, the fact that he is actually self-conscious, is unfathomable.
"They're good."
I place my hand on his leg. His larger hand immediately captures and holds it there.
We arrive to Monterey Bay Fish Grotto and the driver drops us off. Inside, we're seated in a room with the view of the skyline. The sky is dark, so the four towers of the PPG building flash, the headlights of the many cars moving through the city and the bridges. It's gorgeous.
Our waitress is professional, crisp, clean dressed, and can answer any question about the fresh fish of the day. Damon settles on the Swordfish Parmesan and I order Ahi Tuna Sesame, cooked well. The waitress convinces Damon to try the crab cake with remoulade sauce appetizer. As we wait for our drinks, I stare out at the Pittsburgh skyline.
"You love it here, don't you?" Damon asks.
Without looking away from the view, I answer, "Yes. The city is beautiful."
"You're beautiful."
My eyes meet his and I open my mouth to speak, but the waitress appears with our drinks.
"I'll be back with the appetizer."
"Thank you."
Damon nods to her before focusing back on me.
"I'd like to talk about something with you."
He lifts his glass and takes a drink.
"About?"
"The baby…and Alex."
His Adam's apple bobs.
"Okay…"
Staying vague with my response, I wait to see where he goes.
"Would you object to our daughter having my last name?"
It takes a moment to process what he's asking. I go with my gut.
"No."
"Okay." Damon sits up straighter. "This leads me to request Alex's name be changed to Knyght. I'd like our children to both have my last name. I know we didn't agree on this early on, but I hope we are now in a place where you will consider the idea."
"Yes."
"Yes?" Damon's eyes brighten.
I nod. He smiles.
"Would you be angry if I have the papers with me to start Alex's name change?" He lifts one brow.
I laugh, loudly, drawing attention from others in the restaurant.
"Do you have them?"
"Maybe."
He picks up his glass and drinks through curled lips.
"I wouldn't expect any less from you, Damon."
The waitress arrives with the appetizer. The crab cakes look and smell amazing. My stomach rumbles and mouth waters.
Being a gentleman, Damon serves me before getting some for himself.
One bite, and the crab melts in my mouth. I moan. Damon's eyes lock onto my lips.
"Do you have any preferences for the baby's name?" I ask before putting another bite into my mouth.
"What do you think about Harlow?"
"Harlow?" I furrow my brow.
"Yes. I think your name is beautiful, Olivia. For it to carry on as her first name would be nice."
"I don't know. Isn't that a bit odd?"
"I don't think so."
"Maybe." I shrug and sip my water.
"Do you have something in mind?"
"What about Rosalyn? I always lean toward traditional names."
"Rosalyn," he repeats, trying it out. "I like that."
"We have time. I was just curious about your thoughts."
"I appreciate you asking. I really do. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me." I place my fork down on the empty plate.
"There's one more thing I'd like to talk about. Mind you, I've mentioned it before, but I just want to be open about my desires."
"Okay."
"This house isn't just for me and weekend visits, Olivia. I want us to be a family and live there."
"I need more time to think, Damon."
He nods.
"The house should be ready to move into t
wo months from now. I won't move in without you."
"Damon, you paid—"
"The money doesn't matter to me," he says, his voice serious and definite. "What matters is when I enter that house, I want it to be with you. Without you, it won't be a home."
I open my mouth, but close it. Agreeing to move into the house is so much more than just living together. For Damon, this is my acceptance of our marriage, our family, of a life together.
"You don't have to answer tonight." His smile is obviously forced.
I know his hope was for me to agree immediately, but I don't. I need to think.
Dinner remains quiet with simple conversation over amazing meals. In the middle of our main courses, we switch plates. I honestly couldn't pick a favorite, they were that good. By the end of the meal, I feel uncomfortable. It's suddenly hard for us to find the easy rhythm we've recently shared. Even the car ride is quiet, making me feel the pressure of his question.
Swallowing my discomfort, I decide another topic may move us on from the silence.
"Anything new with the fertility clinic?"
"Actually, yes. The private investigator found some information I've been meaning to share with you and get your input."
"My input?"
He nods, going into the details of both his mother and Rebecca's involvement, and the fact that there are other couples who may have been involved.
"I'd like to make sure the other couples affected by the situation are aware. It's not fair for them to be kept in the dark or to find out some other way. I feel like it's my responsibility. But, I want your opinion, because taking this public will be a field day for the media. It could get crazy."
The feel of his eyes forces me to meet his gaze.
"Maybe being in the dark is better for some of those people," I offer.
"I thought about that, but my thoughts are to inform them. Perhaps it's selfish of me on some sort of level, but I feel like I need to do this."
Nodding, I look away.
"You don't agree."
Twisting my head back to him, I shake my head.
"No, it's not that. I'm just trying to think it through. You know, all the angles."
"I understand."
"Is there any way we could possibly tell these couples privately? Or at least try to keep it private?"
"I'm not sure. I suppose I could talk with my lawyers about a way to keep the information confidential."
"There are medical records and this does involve minors. I'd think there would be some law to protect them," I add to his thoughts.
"It's not a guarantee." His eyes bore into mine.
"I know, but we can try, right?"
"We?" His hand takes mine.
There it is. The ease and comfort settles between us.
"Yes, we."
He tugs, bringing me close to his side and wrapping an arm around me.
Stepping into his apartment, I kick off the heels I thought were a good idea when I picked out this dress for our date. One shoe smacks into a large item wrapped in brown paper. I turn to Damon with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine. Don't worry about it. They are facing away."
"Facing away?" My brow furrows in confusion.
I look back to where my shoe hit and realize it's a stack of wrapped artwork.
"You bought paintings?" I ask, stepping forward and placing my fingers on the edge of one.
"No," he answers, removing my coat from my shoulders.
"Are they from New York?"
My curiosity grows as my fingers dance along the brown-papered edge.
"No."
Looking over my shoulder, I give him an incredulous look.
"Why are you being evasive?"
"Because you're cute when you’re curious."
Closing the gap between us, he places his hands on my hips.
"Jerk," I tease.
"See, I was going to let you look at them, but now…"
"Damon," I laugh.
His head dips close to my ear.
"You can look, but don't be angry."
Twisting my neck, I look at him.
He kisses my nose and steps away.
Turning my attention back to the secret art, I turn the first one around and tear the paper down.
My breath leaves me as tears well in my eyes. I swallow at the emotion trying to rip from my throat. Grabbing the next in the stack of three, I flip and rip the paper. The tears release, streaking my cheeks and dripping from my chin. Still with purpose, but slower, I grab the third and repeat. Covering my mouth, I stare at the portrait of me reading a cooking book.
On wobbling legs, I turn my body.
Damon leans against the wall behind me — tie gone, first three buttons of his shirt undone, hands in his pockets, and eyes riveted on my every movement.
I stride forward. His mouth is set in a grim line and his jaw muscle ticks.
Bringing my hands up, I grab his shirt.
"Why?" I croak on a whisper.
"For you, I welcome Isaac into our life and our new home."
"They're for the house?" I whisper.
He nods.
"I didn't mean to upset you. If you don't want them, I will—"
"You framed them? For me?"
He nods again.
Fisting the material until my knuckles ache, I yank him down so our faces are a breath apart. Damon's eyes search mine.
His lips part to speak again and I crash my mouth onto his with such force, it knocks us off balance. His hands come to my hips and firmly grip.
Sucking his bottom lip between mine, I lightly nip. He moans, sliding his hands up my back. Plundering my mouth, he forces his tongue against mine.
His fingers reach the back of my neck. They bury into my hair, fisting almost painfully. Pushing off the wall, he spins us until my back thuds against the barrier. Tightening his grip, he coaxes my head back. With my neck exposed, his mouth moves over my chin, stopping to lightly bite.
Damon sucks the sensitive skin of my neck. The anticipation of being skin to skin spirals out of control. Yanking in opposite directions, his shirt buttons pop open. I claw at the t-shirt he wears, hating the obstacle.
"I need to feel you," I moan.
I feel him hesitate for a split second before stepping away and pulling both shirts from his body.
Gripping his belt, I work the buckle and then the button of his pants. His hands rest on my hips, his fingers drawing the skirt of my dress higher and higher, until he can pull the jersey material over my head. Annoyed by the loss of contact, I growl.
The dress and his shirts gone, I shove at his pants and they fall to the floor. His mouth conquers mine and his hands return to my hips. I grip at his shoulders, pulling him close enough for my hard nipples to rub against him.
Squatting down, just a bit, he grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me against the wall. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I drink greedily from his mouth. I stretch my other arm down his back, digging my fingers into his flesh.
"Hold on," he growls against my lips.
"Always," I pant.
Pulling back his head, his eyes bore into mine. Something intense flares between us and whatever he sees makes his lip twitch.
Lifting me away from the wall, he carries me down the hall. Our eyes stay locked until he sits me onto the bed.
Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he grabs the straps of my bra and pulls them down roughly.
Leaning forward, I try to kiss him. He licks my lips, but won't give me his mouth. Narrowing my eyes, I pull my arms from the bra straps. I grab his head, pull him to me, and claim his lips. I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling his body press into me. His hard cock almost where I need it, I tilt my hips and rock. Our bodies meet and my head drops back.
Damon's mouth moves over my neck and collarbone. His tongue flicks over my nipple, eliciting his name from my mouth. His hands move over my thighs until they grip onto my cotton panti
es. Twisting and pulling, he tries to get them down my thighs, but I won't release him. Giving up, he grips one side with both hands and rips the fabric. The bite of the fabric into my skin intensifies my anticipation. His mouth moves to lick and suck at my other nipple, but he doesn't try to enter me.
"Damon, please," I cry out in frustration. "I need you."
"Patience, baby," he rasps against my breast.
Sliding my fingers into his hair, I grip and pull his head back.
"I need you, Damon. I want you to fuck me."
Heat lights his eyes and his nostrils flare.
Imitating him, I lick his mouth once and pull away when he tries to capture my tongue.
"Liv," he growls.
Bringing one thigh up onto the bed under my leg and then the other, he crawls us both further up the bed. With my toes, I grab the band of his underwear and push them down. His cock springs back, hard and ready against my thigh.
Resting his weight on his left forearm, he reaches between us, rubbing the tip of him over me. Rocking and angling my hips, I work to get him inside. The light hair on his legs rubs against the inside of my thighs, intensifying the throbbing in my clit. When he rubs the tip of his erection over it, I throw back my head and my arms fall to the bed.
"Oh my God, Damon!"
Bringing my right hand back to his head, I grab his hair and pull his face to mine. Our kiss is like drinking lava. The fire that lights between our lips spreads in a slow, deliberate heat across my skin until it collects between my legs.
"Are you ready, baby?" Damon pants against my mouth, his hand still taunting me with the evidence of his desire.
"You know I am," I snap, sexually frustrated.
"Like Vegas, so demanding."
I feel the smile against my mouth.
"What do you want, Olivia?" he asks, a teasing grin on his face.
Leveling my eyes on his, I put both hands on the side of his head. Lifting slightly, I stick my tongue between his lips and drop back to the bed.
"I want you inside me."
The teasing gone, he positions and slams inside.
"Oh yes, yes, God yes!"
Relief washes over me.
The musky scent of him, the way his hips piston between my legs, and how he hits the spot deep inside, build an erotic need within me.
His right hand moves across my skin, stopping to cup and squeeze my breast. My nipple between his lips, he sucks hard. Releasing the nipple, he rubs his thumb over the wetness left behind.