by Amy Brent
“Good, I’ll keep them like that.”
Unaware of the hidden meaning in my words, Fletcher laughed and thanked me as his mouth traveled down my neck to kiss each of my nipples. Knowing exactly what I liked, he alternated between nibbling and circling his tongue around each hardened nipple until I was clawing my nails down his back and begging for more.
Always considerate, Fletcher quickly responded to my pleading by lowering one of his hands to the space between my legs. In perfect synchrony with the movements of his tongue, he worked my center, massaging my clit with his thumb while his index and middle finger slowly pushed their way inside of me.
Instinctively, my right hand reached to grab his cock. He was thick and hard in my palm, just as I liked it. My mouth watered, dying for a taste, but I was enjoying the pleasure he was bringing me way too much to drop to my knees. I’d have plenty of chances later, I was sure of it.
Together, we pleasured each other until our combined moans filled the bathroom like a symphony of love and desire. Pleasure started to build within me until it was all I could feel and all I could think about. Knowing my body even better than I did, Fletcher sped up his pace, working his mouth and fingers until I w.as crying out his name with the force of my release.
As I rode out my orgasm, Fletcher pulled his fingers out of me and brought both hands to my butt. He whispered words of love and devotion as his palms squeezed my cheeks and then slid his palms down the back of my thighs.
Before I was fully aware of what was happening, my back was pressed against the wall, Fletcher was balancing my weight on his hands, and his cock was positioned at my opening. His mouth collided with mine in a kiss that was powerful and hotter than hell.
My heart pounded, my breath hitched and my mouth parted with delight as Fletcher slowly pushed himself inside of me. The fullness was familiar and amazing, and the way he held my gaze told me I felt just as good to him as he did to me.
At that moment, as his hips started moving against mine and our bodies and souls melted into one single being, the fear I felt over how my pregnancy would affect us melted away. It was weird to describe, but it was as if I could tell that this little life growing inside of me would fill us with the same deep kind of love that had created it. That knowledge made me relax and enjoy each second, each thrust, each ounce of pleasure that the love of my life coaxed out of me.
“I love you, Fletcher Cox,” I moaned as my second orgasm started to build inside of me. “I’ll love you forever.”
My strained words made his lips part into a grin that added a beautiful layer of love and happiness to his ecstasy. He kissed me with love and passion as his hips took a life of their own and moved against mine with a ferocity I had never experienced before.
Within seconds, we were both crying out for God, and each other’s names as our bodies dangled on the edge of the delicious precipice of pleasure. I dug my nails into the skin on Fletcher’s broad back and started to shiver as my body buzzed and tingled with my exploding orgasm.
“Yes, baby. Come for me,” he said in between groans. “Come with me, my love—my Gracie.”
And I did. I came, and so did he, and for a moment, all that existed was him and me and pleasure, and the world was the most perfect place because of it.
Once my feet were back on the ground and our bodies relaxed from our joined orgasm, Fletcher and I talked and focused on the actual washing part of our shower. Then, when we turned off the water and went to dry ourselves, instead of reaching for one of the towels in the rack, Fletcher grabbed the one on top of the vanity—the one covering my pee sticks.
“What’s this?” he asked with his brows pulled together in curiosity as he poked the paper bag.
My heart jumped to my mouth as I tried to find the words to tell him I was pregnant, but I literally had no words. The apparent panic on my face caused Fletcher’s to frown with worry. He held my gaze as he picked up the bag.
All the love and certainty I had felt just minutes before melted away. The pain and rejection that had marked so many years of our relationship came back to my heart and mind.
“I’m–” I forced the words out of my mouth.
However, before I could finish the sentence, Fletcher looked inside the bag and added, “Pregnant. You’re pregnant.”
His reaction was impossible to decipher, and it scared me. It scared me so damn much.
“I was going to tell you,” I started as he continued to stare at the plastic device. “I just didn’t know how. We’ve never talked about kids, so I’m not sure if you want them or not. Also, things are so good between us, we’re so happy, I didn’t want to screw them up.”
The confusion on his face grew as he lifted his eyes from the test to my eyes. “Why would a baby screw things up?”
Feeling slightly stupid now, I shrugged. “We’re not married, and though I do okay for myself, I’m not rich. People will talk. They’ll call me a gold digger and you a fool.”
Fletcher looked at me like I was batshit crazy, and maybe I was for caring about dumb things like that when I knew he loved me so much. However, despite his look, my heart was still as tense as my shoulders, and my body was tingling with fear—of losing him, of being a mother, of screwing everything up.
I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, my reactions made me Fletcher laugh. It wasn’t a mere chuckle or a cackle. It was that full-on roar of laughter that brings tears to your eyes and make your stomach hurt.
My hormonal body didn’t quite appreciate his reaction and enjoyed even less when he wrapped himself in a towel and walked out of the bedroom. Outraged and with tears in my eyes, I rolled myself in a towel and followed Fletcher into our bedroom to give him a piece of my mind.
However, when I arrived, I saw something that took my breath away. My gorgeous boyfriend was standing at the foot of our bed with a small red box in his hands.
“What is that?” I asked, mimicking his question from just a couple seconds ago.
Still with that gigantic grin on his face, Fletcher walked towards me and took my hand in his. “This is my version of pregnancy tests.”
“Does it give you answers that surprise the living shit out of you?” I asked, and he laughed again.
“I sure hope not,” he deadpanned. “My plan was to ask you at the party tonight, but since you’re worried about what people might say about me knocking you up before we’re married, I think I should do this now.”
In an awed haze, I watched Fletcher’s face grow a bit more serious as he sank down to his knees and opened the small box. My eyes instantly dropped to the gorgeous, heart-stopping diamond ring inside, but I could feel that his gaze was completely locked on my face.
“Gracie, there’s not much I can tell you now that I haven’t said a million times in the past year. You’re the love of my life, the light in my world and the reason I get up in the morning. You’re my best friend, my inspiration and, now, the mother of my baby.”
My breath caught in my throat at the tender way Fletcher said that last word and my heart was filled with hope again. I smiled at him as the tears started rolling down my face.
In all the five years I had known Fletcher Cox, I had never once seen him that nervous. It was a heart-warming sight that made me love him even more.
He smiled back and took a deep breath. Then, he said the most perfect words I would ever hear. “Grace Taylor, my love, will you marry me and make me, once more, the richest man alive?”
My words failed me, and so did my lungs, but my love for Fletcher didn’t. It forced my nostrils to pull in air and my vocal cords to move. “Yes, Fletch. A million times yes!”
The sounds of our rejoicing giggles filled the room as he slipped the ring on my finger and kissed me once more. What was supposed to be a simple celebratory kiss, turned into a make out session and then a love session I never wanted to end.
Lucky for me, at that moment, I knew it wouldn’t.
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THE END
I
hope you enjoyed BOSS ME PLEASE. For your reading pleasure, I have included a some bonus stories (along with a few exclusives). Please refer to the table of contents to choose what to read next.
Hot Nights of Passion Volume 1
These are your bonus shorts involving some really HOT quarterbacks, secret babies and loads of sporty action.
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If you are not into sports secret baby romance, you may want to take a look other volumes in the same series or read the deleted scenes and extended epilogue for SOLD TO THE DOM.
* * *
You just need to navigate your way through the TOC!
* * *
Enjoy!
* * *
THE QUARTERBACK’S SECRET BABY
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Chapter 1
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Amanda nearly dropped a tray of dirty dishes when an old man pinched her ass as she walked by. She ground her teeth and shot him a glare, but she kept her mouth shut. She'd complained to the boss on more than one occasion about the behavior of the customers, but Spiro didn't care about anything but the restaurant's sales at the end of the day. If a customer kept coming back week after week and spending money, then he wanted that customer treated like gold.
Not that the assholes who treated her like a piece of meat ever tipped well. She'd be lucky if he left her a dollar on the table after he left. But Spiro only cared about the amount of money he made, not what his staff made.
She dropped the dirty dishes off in the back, then printed out the check for one of her other tables. She took the long way around to drop off the check, so she could avoid walking by the perv's table again. She also noticed the perv's drink needed to be refilled, but as far as she was concerned, he could wait. Maybe if she gave him bad service, he'd stop coming back. Spiro would complain about losing a customer, but Amanda had better things to do with her time than be manhandled by someone who didn't even tip.
She dropped off the check at the other table. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, keeping her fake smile on her face.
“You can give me your phone number,” the man said, winking at her.
Amanda rolled her eyes. Max was one of her regulars, and while he never got handsy with her the way some of her other customers did, he was relentlessly hitting on her. But he was at least friendly about it, and he never took it the wrong way when she shot him down, so she tried to at least have some fun with it. “My phone's probably getting shut off next week, Max,” she said, giving him a playful smirk. “Tell you what, wait until I win the lottery, then we'll see.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You either make too many calls, or you're not being paid enough here.”
“Little of both,” Amanda said. “Mostly the latter.”
She flashed him a genuine smile as she took his empty plate. Max, at least, was a decent tipper.
She took a quick glance at her other tables. Aside from the perv needing a drink refill, it looked like everyone was doing fine. She'd have just enough time to slip out for a quick smoke.
She kept an eye out for Spiro as she cut back through the dish room and out the back door. The boss didn't much care for his employees smoking on the clock. But Spiro only paid her $2.13 per hour, which was the minimum wage when you earned the rest of your pay from tips, so she didn't really care what he thought. She ducked behind the dumpster, trying to ignore the smell as she pulled out her Parliament Menthols and lit one up. She never smoked at home, because she didn't want to expose her son to secondhand smoke, which meant she had to get her fill while she was at work.
While she was smoking, and dreading the next three hours of her shift, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw it was a text from her friend Michelle. She almost ignored it. Michelle had been a real party girl ever since high school, and had only gotten worse when she moved away for college. Whenever she stopped back in town during a school break, she wanted to go out drinking and cruising for guys. Amanda didn't have the time, between working two jobs and taking care of her son, for that kind of life. As much as she felt like a jerk for ignoring Michelle's texts half the time, she knew she just couldn't deal with being dragged out for a weekend of partying.
She read the text, already composing a response in her head. She needed to make a good excuse in order to get out of going drinking without hurting Michelle's feelings in the process. Though when she read the text, she nearly dropped her phone.
Hey, Mandy! You need to clear your plans for the weekend. I'm coming home, and guess what? I'M GETTING MARRIED!
Amanda was still staring at the text, trying to process it, when her phone buzzed again with another incoming text.
You'll be there, right? Promise you will! I need my bestie there as my maid of honor!
Amanda held her cigarette between her lips and typed out a response. She didn't see how she could get out of going to her friend's wedding, especially if Michelle wanted her to be maid of honor. Her head was spinning as she typed out her response: Holy crap! Since when are you getting married? Why such short notice? Of course I'll be there.
Just before Amanda headed back in to check on her tables, she got another response from Michelle: Long story, I'll explain when I see you. But Blake only has this weekend available, so it has to be now. OMG! I'm so excited! See you soon!
Amanda tucked away her phone and went back to check on her tables. The man who'd pinched her started complaining about how he'd been waiting ten minutes to have his drink refilled. She muttered a completely insincere apology and went to fetch him a new Coke. Then she finished clearing off Max's table, and stopped, stunned, when she saw the tip that he'd left.
It was a $50 bill. She knew Max had decent money—at least, compared to the usual crowd that came into the diner—but he was never this generous. She immediately felt a surge of guilt about her lie about her phone being shut off. Her bills were tight, but not so tight that she couldn't keep up with them, albeit barely. Max must have taken her excuse to get out of giving him her phone number as a genuine plea.
She pocketed the money, trying not to feel guilty about it. Though she immediately felt better when the perv at the next table only left her seventy-eight cents. She'd earned Max's big tip, if only because she had to put up with so much shit from the rest of her customers.
When her shift was finally over, she took the bus home, then stopped by her neighbor's apartment to pick up her son, James. Mrs. Carter was a stay at home mom, and she watched James for free, in exchange for Amanda watching her son a few times a week so Mrs. Carter could run errands or have a night out with her husband.
“Come on, kiddo,” she said, taking James's hand. “Time for dinner.”
“But I don't wanna go,” James said, stomping his foot.
Mrs. Carter shot Amanda an apologetic smile. “He's been in a mood today.”
“I have not!” James protested, stomping his foot again.
“I'm sorry, kiddo,” Amanda said, scooping James up and holding him against her hip. “You can come back and play tomorrow.”
James made a frustrated sound as she carried him down the hall to their apartment. She set him down on the couch and did her best to clean the place up a bit before dinner. The apartment was eternally a mess, and she had long since given up on ever getting it truly clean. She just tried to maintain a certain level of disarray.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked as she looked through the cabinets.
“Pizza.”
“We don't have pizza,” she said. She considered using Max's $50 to order out, and save herself the hassle of cooking, but she really needed to put it towards paying off her credit card. “How about pasta? That's Italian, too.”
James grumbled, but since he wasn't old enough to cook for himself, Amanda figured he could deal with her making whatever she wanted. She set the water to boil, then went into the living room to sit on the couch next to her son.
He'd turned the TV on, and the Monday night football game was
playing. She frowned at the TV. “Hey, isn't there cartoons on?”
“No,” James said, pouting. “I wanna watch them play!”
Amanda sighed and leaned back against the couch. James loved playing and running outdoors, though she rarely got the chance to take him out anymore. She didn't want to deny him the chance to watch the game, even if watching it brought back painful memories for her.
James clutched his Nerf football to his chest as he watched the players running across the field. Amanda watched just one player in particular, the quarterback, Cole Reed. Michelle's brother.
She sighed and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands. She usually didn't want to admit it, but Cole was another reason why she'd been avoiding Michelle so much over the years. When they'd been in high school, Cole had been in college, and already making a name for himself playing for his college football team. Amanda had crushed on him pretty hard, mooning over him whenever he came back to town during school breaks. She'd been pretty sure he'd barely known that she existed, and she was even more sure now that he'd completely forgotten her entire existence. After all, they had just had one night together. The night she gave him her virginity.
She glanced at James, the memories rushing back once more. She'd been a bit drunk, thanks to Cole and his college friends buying alcohol for Amanda and Michelle's high school graduation party. There had been dozens of kids there, including half of Cole's college football team who'd driven down for the party, and for the chance to score with some eager and willing high school girls. Amanda still didn't know if Cole had put the moves on her because she had been wearing a tight, low-cut dress that night, or because he'd been drunk enough to forget that she was his sister's best friend. And she hadn't cared what his reasons were. When he asked her to go upstairs, she'd been more than willing.