by Lane Hart
“Why not? Because you’re an asshole and don’t want Linc to know that you not only broke the bro code but planted your gigantic seed in me?” she asks with a wicked smile and a poke to my navel. Most people poke in the chest, but she’s really short and I’m six-four. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Tarzan, but I can’t exactly play this thing off as a beer belly anymore. And it hurts to try and smoosh it into tight clothes.” She strokes her palm over the bump tenderly, and my own palm twitches with the stupid urge to touch it, too. ET must be putting out some sort of magnetic, gravitational pull. That’s the only explanation for why I want to touch any part of this evil, infuriating, but highly fertile woman. Well, that and the fact that her jiggling tits look fucking divine.
“Could you just…I don’t know…pine away for Linc from afar today instead of drooling over him while all up in his grill?” I ask, almost ready to beg.
She scoffs. “I’m here for his wedding! It would be rude to not even say hello.” Right, of course she wants to see the man she is still clearly in love with.
“No, it wouldn’t be rude to avoid throwing this shit in his face today of all days!” I argue.
“Linc’s not gonna care,” she says with confidence I don’t have. And there it is, in the way she says his name, like she thinks he’s still hers, and she knows him so damn well.
“Linc won’t care about what?”
Fuck!
My best friend suddenly appears next to us, still wearing his black tux. God, I felt so guilty, standing beside him today as his best man, knowing I not only fucked his ex but knocked her up. Just like mine did, his blue eyes go straight down to her stomach and widen. “Holy fuck! Are you…are you pregnant?” he asks Abby, staring down at our obvious predicament.
“Hey, Linc! Congratulations to you and Claire,” Abby says before stepping forward to wrap her arms around him and hug him, pressing those big titties and my baby, I mean, her belly, all up on the front of his body. Of course she does, because she’s a crazy stalker who’s obsessed with him even though he just married another woman a few hours ago. That’s how I ended up with her that one night three or four months ago in the first fucking place. And seeing her throw herself at him now seriously pisses me off for whatever reason.
“Ah, thanks for comin’, and, um, congrats to you, too, I guess?” Linc says hesitantly when he pulls carefully away from her embrace like she might break. Then, he reaches out and rubs a hand over her bump. What the fuck!
Abby flashes Linc a goofy-eyed, fangirl smile, probably because he’s touching her. “I’m only fourteen weeks, but my doctor has already done all the genetic testing, and he says that the chance of a miscarriage is only about five percent at this point.”
Fuck. The reminder of Linc and Abby losing their son to a miscarriage causes a strange burning knot to flare up in the pit of my stomach and radiate up into my chest. I rub my fist over my sternum to try and make the ache go away. Maybe it’s just indigestion from too many crabcakes. I’m sure our ET is fine since Abby’s so…big, right?
“Good, that’s really good to hear,” Linc says to her. Reaching for her hand, he holds it palm up and strokes his thumb over the inside of her wrist. That’s when I notice the small, black cursive letters and angel wings for the first time, a tattoo that I’m guessing is for the baby they lost.
Seeing Abby and Linc having this…moment together is sort of making me feel like an escaped mental patient. Like it better end soon or I might snap and punch my best friend in his fucking face, wedding day or not.
“So, who’s the father?” Linc asks Abby after he drops her hand. She lowers her eyes while her fingertips glide over the skin of her wrist where he just touched her. “He’s gonna take care of you both; right, Abby?”
She doesn’t answer him, refusing to rat me out until I’m ready. But for some stupid reason, I know I need to man the fuck up and just tell him. A part of me wants him to know.
“It’s mine,” I say.
Linc’s jaw drops and Abby gasps when they both look over at me like they forgot I was still standing here. She’s probably just as shocked as Linc since my reaction so far has been to call her a liar instead of admitting that I believe her. Over the phone I wasn’t so sure, but based on our first face-to-face conversation moments ago, it’s obvious that she fucking hates me. I’m the last man on the planet she wants to raise a baby with, so why would she lie?
“Yours?” Linc asks, and then looks back and forth between me and Abby. “You and…you two are…What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” I say to him quickly. “We were drunk, and it was just one night. She was upset and practically threw herself at me. I know that’s bullshit, and I shouldn’t have fucked around with her in the first place-.”
That’s the point in my rambling apology when Abby spins around and storms off.
“Wow,” Linc mutters as we both watch her maneuver through the crowd of people, moving farther away from us in the beach house. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know,” I agree, running my fingers through my hair.
“She’s probably cryin’ right about now. Actually, I’m almost certain she is, with the pregnancy hormones and all.”
“Fuck,” I grumble. “And exactly how pissed off are you at me?” I have to ask him.
“Why would I be pissed at you?” he questions me with a creased forehead.
“Because I knew you and her dated. Fuck, you had a baby together, and I went behind your back…”
“You could’ve just told me,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not like I would’ve given a shit.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Hell no,” he says, adamantly waving a hand in the air. “That…that was over a looong time ago.”
“Maybe for you…” I mutter.
“What does that mean?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you blind?” I ask him in a huff. “She still loves you even though you don’t give a shit about her.”
“Hey, I give a shit about her, just not the way I used to, and definitely not like I love Claire.”
“Yeah, well, the news that you were getting married is what led to all this,” I tell him.
“What? Are you serious?” he asks, dropping his hands back down by his sides.
“She was upset when I saw her at a club a few months ago, throwing back shots after she found out about your wedding. And then, hell, she said she wanted me to make her forget about you that night.”
“Oh,” he replies softly. “And now…now you two are gonna have a baby together because you…helped her forget me?”
“Apparently.”
“That is…insane,” he says with a shake of his head. “But we can talk later. Right now you better go find Abby and apologize for bein’ a jerk. Stress isn’t good for her or the baby.”
I cringe at his words, hoping she’s not that upset, but turn to go look for her to make sure. Wandering through the house full of people, I definitely wasn’t expecting to find Abby in the hallway being comforted by Hailey. Hailey, Linc’s sister, who I’ve been trying to fuck all week, narrows her eyes at me, seeming to understand right away that I’m the cause of the pregnant woman’s tears. I confessed to Hailey I might be the father, so she already knew before seeing the proof under Abby’s dress today.
When I gesture with a tilt of my head that she should go and give me and Abby a minute, she nods and extracts the crying pregnant woman from her embrace, handing her off to me.
Fuck.
I don’t know what to do with tears and shit. I’d prefer her yelling at me and calling me an asshole to her leaking. The last time she started crying, we went back to her place and I fucked her against the foyer wall before the front door closed. Of course, that came after the sexy little freak got me all worked up by sucking my cock in the backseat of a taxi. Not sure that the sex trick will work this time to stop the tears, though.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her with my hands coming to rest on her
bare shoulders because I thought that body part seemed safe. Shoulders are not safe. Now I’m imagining pulling the thin dress straps down to get my hands and tongue on those amazing tits that I can’t stop staring at. And, for some unknown reason, my apology seems to make her tears fall faster. In fact, usually tough-as-nails Abby covers her face and starts sobbing into her palms. When several heads in the room turn our way, for a little privacy, I guide her with my hand on her back into the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in this week.
I pace back and forth along the length of the room, while she sits on the foot of the bed, waiting for her to calm down. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m gonna be a father. How messed up is that? Especially since I don’t know the first fuck about what the job entails. I’m pretty sure that regular ass beatings and tossing your kid into a human cockfighting ring to pay rent are not part of the foundations of a functional household. That’s why I, unlike Linc, have never wanted a family. I’m gonna suck at this shit so bad and end up fucking some kid up in the head. He’ll probably turn into a delinquent. Or, if ET’s a girl, she’ll probably end up being a stripper.
“Karma’s a bitch,” Abby eventually says between sniffles. “With Linc…I told him I didn’t want to be a mother and now…now you don’t want to be a father. I guess I deserve nothing less.” I wince when she hits the bullseye dead on. The truth sounds so bad spoken aloud. Her words instantly make me feel guilty because I want to take responsibility for this, but, fuck, I just don’t know how or if I’m even capable of being a father.
“Abby, look, I…you need to give me some time to come to grips with everything,” I tell her honestly. “I’ve only had, like, three days. That’s not much time to adjust to the idea of being someone’s father for the rest of my life. You’ve had, what, fourteen weeks? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Annnd what I thought was a simple question causes her to start boohooing again, even harder. I leave the room to go get some tissues from the hallway bathroom and come back to offer them to her.
“I was scared I might have another miscarriage,” she tells me when she accepts the wad of paper. “I didn’t want to tell you…until I knew for sure, not that I know for sure since Thomas was twenty weeks…anything could happen and…and I’m scared. I don’t want to lose her, too.”
“Her!” I repeat. “ET’s a…it’s a girl?”
Abby wipes the smudged mascara from her eyes as she nods in confirmation. Oh God. I’m gonna raise a stripper with a billion daddy issues. My legs suddenly feel like I just finished a thousand squats, so I lean my back against the wall to hold myself up.
“Last week, the ultrasound tech told me it was early…but she said if she had to guess…”
“A girl,” I finish.
How old do you have to be to dance naked in public? Eighteen? I’ve got eighteen years to teach my daughter to keep her clothes on. And to stay away from boys, especially ones like me who fuck and run. Oh, shit! What if she gets knocked up? I don’t wanna end up on Sixteen and Pregnant as the idiot dad who gets conned into raising the baby of his bratty teenager and lets her worthless boyfriend move into my house. Hell. No.
“She could be wrong,” Abby says, bringing me back from the hypothetical, shitty future. “It could be a late developing boy.”
“No fucking way!” I exclaim. “If it was my boy, his twig and berries would already be on full display. It’s gotta be a girl,” I assure her. “Can we do like yellow baby shit? Because I despise pink. It reminds me of the nasty taste of Pepto-Bismol, and it’s just so damn…girly.”
“I hate pink, too,” Abby replies softly, wiping away more tears.
“See, this won’t be so bad. We already agree on something.”
She puffs out a bark of laughter but frowns harder. “I’m so screwed.”
“You’re not screwed,” I assure her, even though it’s a lie. We so are.
“I’m already huge and gross. None of my pants fit,” she sniffles.
“You’re not huge,” I tell her honestly. “You’re still tiny except for the baby bump. Okay, so, your titties are huge, but really, it’s always the bigger the better where those and asses are concerned.”
“Ugh,” she says with her shoulders slumping forward. “Don’t lie. I’m fat and repulsive, especially when I’m naked, but the stupid hormones are making me so horny.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you naked,” I tell her honestly after hearing her say me so horny. That’s always been a fault of mine, saying shit without thinking. Another fault would be doing shit without thinking. But Linc said he didn’t care so…
“No, believe me, you don’t. I’m gross,” Abby whines.
Closing the distance between us, I step up between her thighs and run my fingertips down along the V neck of her dress, grazing the tops of both soft swells. “Show me your titties,” I tell her.
“What?” she exclaims, her red-rimmed, chocolate eyes going wide in surprise. “No way, you perverted jackass.” Despite her refusal, I hear her breath hitch and watch as her nipples harden through the soft cotton. The fact that she insulted me is even more confirmation that she’s turned on and wants me.
Right before we ended up in the cab together that night at the club, she called me an ass dildo. And in the backseat of the cab, her name-calling had escalated with her horniness. I became a limp-dicked bastard before she sank to her knees in the floorboard. When we got to her apartment, all hell broke loose. I was crowned the pinnacle of offensiveness when she hailed me as a giant, cocksucking chode for taking too long getting my dick out to fuck her against the wall.
“Come on. Let me see your big tits and suck on them a little bit,” I practically beg. Abby just stares blankly up at me, maybe trying to judge my sincerity. I’m as serious as a fucking heart attack. “You know you want me to, don’t you, you little slut?” I say to inflame her filthy mouth even more. When she doesn’t respond, I reach up and lower the spaghetti straps of her dress far enough that I can yank the cups down, exposing both full breasts to me since there’s no bra in the way. Fuck, her heavy tits are even better than I imagined. I heft one in each palm and stroke my thumbs over the beaded nipples. But then I have to taste one.
“Oh God,” Abby moans, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. She thrusts her chest out farther when I suck on her nipple. “Easy there, Black & Decker nut-buster. The flopsy twins are really freakin’ sensitive.”
I barely withhold my laughter. When I smile at the creative nickname, her tit slides out of my mouth. “Sensitive good or sensitive bad?” I ask since her body is saying one thing while her lips are saying another.
She blinks her chocolate eyes open to respond. “Good. Really good.”
That’s all I need to know. Lowering my mouth again, I take the wet nipple between my lips, roll it around my tongue and suck on it a little. Oh, yeah. Abby gasps, and her thighs clench tightly around my hips like she’s enjoying what I’m doing. My cock jerks forward against my zipper, seeking her wet heat. As I press forward, the hem of her dress slides up to the top of her legs; and I suddenly need to know if she’s wearing panties or going commando like the night in the club. I slide my hand up her inner thigh until my thumb touches her completely bare pussy.
“Fuck, Abby. Do you ever wear panties?” I ask when I slip a finger inside of her wet heat, making her gasp.
“All my panties are too small for my fat ass,” she says.
“Whatever,” I reply. “You just like walking around all day with your pussy out, begging for a cock to fill it.”
“Shut up,” she says as her fingers thread into my hair to guide my mouth over to her neglected nipple. “Oh, that feels so good,” she mutters quietly to herself like she doesn’t want me to hear her saying that she enjoys it.
While my finger slides in and out of her slick pussy, the heel of my hand keeps bumping her swollen lower belly. I finally give in and move my palm up until I’m at the fullest section right below her bellybutton. The bump is harder than I ex
pected, tight and smooth. So this is where our alien is incubating? Our daughter. Abby’s belly feels warmer than the rest of her skin, which explains the whole bun in the oven analogy.
“Stop that,” she says, grabbing my hand and shoving it back down to her pussy. I dip two fingers through her wet folds and push them inside of her, making her eyes close on another moan. “Oh God! I’m gonna come so fast,” she warns. Holding onto my hand with both of hers, she keeps the thrusts moving how she wants them until she clenches around my fingers as I suck on her titty harder. When she cries out, I worry someone might hear her, so I cover her mouth with mine, kissing her for the first time today just to, you know, keep the sound down.
I swallow all her sexy sounds as her body convulses like she’s never come so hard. Now I can’t help but wonder how many men she’s screwed since that night three or four months ago. Fuck knows I couldn’t tell you how many different women I’ve been with. But for whatever reason, I don’t want any dicks in her while she’s pregnant with my baby. That’s like sticking someone else’s toothbrush in your mouth. Wait, that’s sort of how sex always is…
Abby reaches for the front of my pants, undoing the button and zipper like she can’t get them off quick enough. Once my boxers and tux pants are pushed down, she starts working on the buttons of my white dress shirt. I tug on her dress until she lifts her hips to let me pull it down and off. Then she’s scooting back farther on the bed while I shed the remainder of my clothes and follow.
Climbing over her, well, I don’t know what the fuck she was talking about. Her body is incredible, curvier than before and so fucking sexy. She looks almost ethereal…glowing like a fertility goddess laid out in offering before me. And the fact that I made her this way has my chest and my cock swelling with pride. There’s nothing more masculine than being able to knock up a woman, even if it’s by accident. My boys are strong fucking swimmers since they apparently busted through a rubber, responsible for that whole one percent statistic on the back of condom boxes.
Abby spreads her thighs to make room for me, and seeing her glistening pussy has me ready to mount up and fuck her raw. Except, I can’t do that to her. What if I hurt her or the baby?