by Jaci J
I pull away from her, growling like a damn animal. My girl’s got a mouth on her.
“That’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.”
“So,” she murmurs, lifting her shoulder and biting her sweet little lip, “what do I gotta do to get you to build me one?” Her hand leaves my neck and travels down my chest to my fly, palming my dick through my jeans and stroking me hard. Sneaky little shit.
“Nothin’, baby.”
She pouts. “Well that was no fun.”
I’ll show her fun.
Mia
Before I can protest, barter, or bribe, Cruz grabs the waistband of my cloth shorts and jerks on them, making me lift my hips so he can slide them off me.
Grabbing each ankle, he lifts me, putting my feet on the bench.
I’m bare, my legs spread wide open.
Cruz doesn’t waste any time.
Burying his face between my thighs, his tongue dips into my pussy, circling and sucking.
“Jesus, baby, always so wet for me,” he groans against my wet flesh.
Sucking on my clit, he shoves two thick fingers into me, making me gasp.
His fingers fill me up, making me ache in the best way, but it’s not enough.
“Baby,” I moan, tightening around his fingers.
Cruz eats me alive, his tongue torturing my clit while pumping his fingers in and out of me.
I lose my grip on holding it together and explode in his mouth.
I swear to God, he enjoys this as much as I do.
I start to come down as Cruz stands up, wiping at his mouth.
“You’re good at that,” I smirk, yelping when he smacks my thigh.
“I know how to work my pussy. What can I say?”
This side of Cruz is my favorite—dirty and sweet.
“How big of a platform do you need?” he rasps, unzipping his fly and pulling out his rock-hard cock.
“Big,” I whisper when he drags the head through my wetness, nudging at my entrance, teasing me.
Both of us are clothed. Cruz fully, me with only my shirt on, and we’re in his shop, the bay door wide open. Anyone could walk by, and at the right angle, they could see everything going on.
I couldn’t give a shit, though.
“I’ll make it fucking huge.” He slams into me, and it feels so good.
I become frantic, pulling on him, needing him closer.
Cruz’s hands go under my shirt, pushing the material up and jerking on my bra, playing with my tits.
“These big fucking tits...Jesus, I just wanna fuck ’em.”
“Tonight?” I groan, loving the way he grinds into me every time he goes deep. I can feel it in my toes.
“Not tonight, because tonight, I’ll be busy building my woman shit.”
“You got a woman?” I tease, shivering when he pulls all the way out and runs his fingers between my pussy lips, before thrusting back into me.
“Yeah, she’s a pain in my fuckin’ ass, but she’s my goddamn angel.”
“She sounds like a lucky woman.”
“Nah. I’m the lucky one.”
Cruz fucks me good, and so hard, tools fall off the bench. I come so hard I see stars, and Cruz is right behind me. He comes, refusing to pull out of me, and I don’t even care because there’s a damn good chance I’m already pregnant.
IN THE BARN, BACK AT Cruz’s place, I watch him work with his hands, trying to convince myself to leave him alone, let him get his work done, because it’s hard not to mess with him.
There’s just something about a guy who’s good with his hands.
“Hand me that drill, will ya?” he asks, looking up from the pile of wood he’s working with.
“Which one?” There are three things that look like drills next to me on the workbench.
“The drill one.”
That doesn’t help. “There are three.”
“One’s a screwdriver, one’s an impact driver, and the other is the drill.”
“Not helping.”
Cruz growls, standing up and walking over to me. “You’re sexy, baby, and good at dancing, but do me a favor and don’t get into construction, yeah?”
“Asshole,” I mutter, watching him grab one of the three things that looks like a drill and shake my head. I would have never picked that one.
He smacks my ass. “More like a fucking asshole.”
That makes me snort. “But you’re my fucking asshole.”
Stopping, Cruz leans down, kissing me, his spare hand grabbing a handful of boob over my shirt, palming it roughly.
We sleep like this, with one of his hands under my tank, wrapped around a boob.
The man is obsessed with my tits. Hell, with my entire body, but especially my chest.
My tits feel heavy, bigger, and when he touches them, I can feel it between my thighs.
Kissing him back, I mumble, “Don’t start somethin’ you’re not gonna finish.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me, Angel.”
“Tease,” I moan, disappointed when he pulls away.
“Don’t look at me like that. You want this shit built? I can’t fuck you and build it.”
He’s right, but still, I pout. “Whatever.”
Walking toward the door, I smirk when says, “Don’t make me feel guilty, you little shit.”
“It’s fine.” I feign disappointment. “Maybe my next man will fuck me more than twice a day.”
“You’re a fucking brat, baby,” he shouts at me, laughing.
“Your brat.”
“And don’t forget that shit.”
Cruz
I find Mia in my kitchen, Red and Rowdy at her feet, stirring something in a bowl at the island.
She’s damn near naked.
Her hair is wet. She showered.
Wearing nothing but a pair of black cotton panties with a thick elastic band and a sports bra looking thing, she’s fucking sexy, but crazy.
Walking through the back door, I step on a pair of heels tossed on the ground in the middle of the damn door.
Little by little, everything Mia owns has migrated here, and she’s making no moves to take the shit back home. And I’m not complaining. I want her here, permanently.
“You own any clothes that aren’t cut off or tiny scraps of material?” I ask her, sitting down at the other side of the island, watching her work.
Stopping mid-stir, Mia cocks a brow in my direction. “Really? Weren’t you just bitching about me having too much clothing on my body yesterday?”
She’s got me there.
“Whatcha makin’?”
“Cookies.”
“Cookies? You like to bake, don’t you?”
“Yeah, since the only action this kitchen seems to see is when I’m in here cookin’ or you’re bangin’ me at the sink.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t cook much.
Getting off the stool, I walk around the island toward her. Leaning over her shoulder to look in the bowl, I wrap an arm around her middle, hugging her against me.
Cookie batter. Chocolate chip.
“Looks good.”
“Wanna taste?” She holds up the spoon for me. I let her give me a bite, but it’s not the only thing I want a taste of.
“It’s good, baby.”
Mia smiles, but it doesn’t last long.
Her smile melts and her face pales. She pulls away from me, frantic, and pushes past me, running off.
“What the fuck?” Before the words leave my mouth, she’s turning and running down the hall.
I don’t let her go. I follow.
In bathroom, on her knees, she throws up, and I’m fucking shocked for a minute.
“Shit.”
“Out,” she groans, pointing at the door while hugging the toilet.
“Baby.”
“Fuck, Cruz,” she pants, angry. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Stepping out of the bathroom, I close the door behind me and wait in the hall, because I don’t know what else to fucking do.
I don’t like this shit.
Fifteen minutes later, Mia steps out of the bathroom, her hair twisted up in a messy knot on her head and her robe wrapped around her.
She looks sick.
I feel sick.
What the fuck just happened? “Damn, what the fuck was that?”
Running a finger under her eyes, wiping away the black makeup there, she lifts a tired shoulder. “I don’t know.”
She doesn’t know?”
The fuck?
I follow her down the hall to the bedroom, watching her fall onto the bed and crawl under the sheets.
She’s moving slow.
“Should I call a doctor or somethin’?” I ask her, concerned.
I’m feeling a little fucking lost here and I don’t like it. I want to take care of her, always, and I can’t if I don’t know what the fuck is happening.
“No.”
“No? You’re fucking sick.”
“I’m not sick,” she grumbles, stuffing my pillow—the one she steals nightly—under her head and hugging another to her chest.
Well, shit. She went from sexy to cranky real goddamn quick.
“If you’re not sick, then what the fuck was that?”
I should have saw it coming, but I didn’t. The shit that leaves her mouth knocks me on my goddamn ass.
“I’m not sick, Cruz. I think I’m pregnant.”
Mia
“What?” Cruz barks, rubbing at his beard, sweat breaking out across his brow.
I don’t know what he’s so confused about—he wanted this.
It’s his fault.
Rolling over onto my back, I peel open my robe and rub my belly, the one I thought I felt getting a little plumper, a little firmer, a little rounder. Bloated maybe. When you’re happy, you gain weight, right?
It’s got to be baby weight. Shit.
It’s been about six weeks.
I should have known.
I’m not showing, and I won’t for weeks. But I swear to God, I feel bigger.
Maybe it’s all the good food and good sex?
Maybe it’s a baby.
Jesus. A baby.
Cruz looks surprised. Shocked. And that surprises me.
“Wondering how this happened?” I ask, still rubbing my stomach.
“I know exactly how it fuckin’ happened,” he retorts, brows furrowed. He’s thinking. Plotting. “What do I do?”
I laugh. I don’t even know why because nothing’s funny. “What do we do? We do nothing. If I am indeed pregnant, we have a baby, unless...” I trail off, my blood starting to boil. If he asks me to have...
“Whoa, whoa there, baby, that’s not even close to what I was talking about.”
“Good, because I was about to kill you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Noted, but what I was asking was about was like a doctor or something. What do we do next?”
“Well, I’m gonna lay here and die.”
Being pregnant sucks. This is the third time today I got sick. The first time was when I was brushing my teeth, thinking I gagged myself. Second time I thought it was because of the first. Now? I fucking know better.
I’m pregnant.
Cruz runs a hand through his hair. “What do you need?”
“A bullet to the head,” I grumble, rolling over and burrowing into the blanket.
He doesn’t like that.
“That shit isn’t funny. You’re sick and shit, and I get that. Anything you fucking need I’m here, but don’t say shit like that.”
“Sorry.”
Even though I’m not.
“Toast?” Cruz suggests.
“Toast?”
“Fuck, baby, I don’t know what you need. That’s what my mom used to give me when I was young and sick.”
“Yeah? That’s sweet.”
He just shakes his head. “Not as sweet as you’re thinking. All we had in the house was bread.”
Sitting up, I frown, picturing Cruz young and hungry.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Look at me like you’re sad. I was fine. I survived and here I fuckin am, still survivin’.”
“I’m sorry your mom sucked.”
“Sorry your dad sucked,” he counters, smiling softly at me.
I can’t help but laugh. “Maybe we’ll be better parents?”
“No fucking doubt about that, baby. So, you want that toast or not?”
“With cinnamon and sugar.”
“How the fuck is that shit good for the baby?” he mutters, walking out the door and heading toward the kitchen.
I don’t know if it’s good for the baby, but what I do know is that I want it.
“Five pieces!”
“Five?” he shouts. “Damn, girl.”
“Make it six!”
And I eat six pieces while Cruz watches me, feeling so goddamn in love.
Cruz
The music is loud, damn near overbearing. Some new rap song.
Mia woke up good, not sick, but after last night, I’m not convinced it’ll last long.
“Turn it to the side,” I tell Zane, twisting my hands to flip the damn platform Mia asked me for over to set down.
It’s big. It should hold a few bodies.
Walking through the door, I see two people in the room, Mia and her friend.
They’re both dancing.
Hard.
I’m not sure I want her moving so damn fast with my baby in her.
She’s wearing high ass heels and some tiny little shorts. It’s a strange ass combination, but it works on my girl.
She’s sexy.
Spinning, dropping to the floor, Mia stands up slowly, her feet spread wide and her hands dragging up her thighs, her ass out.
If I didn’t think my dick could get any harder, I’d be wrong, because it just did.
The woman has some goddamn moves.
Mia sees me and stops, her chest rising and falling quickly, and then she smiles at me, putting her hands on her hips.
“Angel,” I grunt out, while me and Zane set her platform down.
We’re doing it today, confirming what I already know—my baby’s growing inside of her.
She’s still going back and forth, says she’s not sure, but she’s fucking with me, I know it.
I’m fucking sure.
“That’s huge,” she purrs, pressing against me.
“Too big?”
“Never too big,” she smirks, stroking my already hard cock through my jeans.
“Jesus, baby, being pregnant has turned you into a horny little vixen.”
She purses her lips and shrugs. “Maybe it’s just you.”
“You need me to take you in the bathroom and get you off?” I joke. But that jokes turns serious when her eyes grow big and she bites her lip, nodding. “Please.”
Taking my hand, she tugs me toward the bathroom.
“You serious, Angel?” I chuckle when she pushes me into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind us.
She doesn’t have to answer me, she’s already sitting on the sink, waiting for me.
Her pussy is soaking wet when I push her shorts to the side and slide my dick into her.
“Jesus, baby.”
“Fast and hard,” she tells me, wrapping her legs around my back, the heels of her shoes digging into my ass.
And I give it to her exactly how she wants it, hard and fast.
It’s the quickest fuck of my life. I blame that shit on Mia’s pussy convulsing on my cock, milking me hard.
I come so fucking hard that I get lightheaded and my knees go weak.
Nails raking down my shoulders, she moans, “Shit, baby.” Breathing hard, her head falls against my chest.
“Ten minutes,” I smirk, pulling out of her.
“A good ten minutes,” she giggles, the devil in her eyes.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
Hopping off th
e counter, she fixes her shorts and walks out the door, ass swaying from side to side.
I follow her.
Zane looks at me, smirking. “Finished puttin’ that shit together while you got your dick wet, asshole.”
Jesus.
Mia’s standing at the sound system, and that’s not going to work. “Angel, we’ve gotta go.”
“Where?”
I don’t give her answers. I toss her over my shoulder and head out the door with her laughing.
Mia
“You’re going in with me?” I ask Cruz, hanging halfway out of his pretty muscle car. A sixty-nine Impala—his words.
Cruz is already out of the car, looking confused. “Yeah.”
“Seriously?” I question again, getting out as well.
Over the roof, he looks at me funny. “What the fuck? You sleepin’ with the pharmacist here or something?”
I laugh, I can’t help it. “I prefer biker assholes.”
“Well that’s good. I happen to be an asshole, and this asshole wants to know why his baby mama doesn’t want him to go into the store with her.”
“Baby mama?”
“Old lady better?”
I frown. “Baby mama’s better.”
“Figured you weren’t gonna be a fan of biker slang.”
He figured right. “It’s just the old part.”
“Term of endearment.”
It dawns on me. We’re still standing outside, in the parking lot, talking over the top of Cruz’s fancy fast car. “Why are we still standing out here?”
“Because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.” He’s smiling, his pearly white teeth on full display.
This might be the first real smile I’ve gotten. Not a smirk or a grin, but an honest smile.
His bottom tooth is a little crooked. Twisted. It makes him sexier.
“You can go with me.”
“Wasn’t not goin’,” he chuckles, taking my hand and hauling me into the store.
Yeah, I didn’t think he’d stay in the car.
Inside, he looks at me. “Where we goin’?”
“Tampon aisle.”
I expect him to cringe or make a face, but he just lifts a shoulder and keeps walking.