I’ve never been in this situation, but my friend got pregnant in the eleventh grade. I remember standing next to her and holding her hand as we waited for the results of the first test. It was between third and fourth period. When the first test said that she was pregnant, she immediately took another one. That one confirmed the results of the first so she took another one and another one. We went through four tests before she finally gave up and believed that she was indeed pregnant.
I sit back down on the bed. I can’t believe what I’ve discovered. Ophelia is pregnant! Or at least, she might be. Oh, my God! I want to tell Wyatt, but I can’t. Right? It’s not my place. I was snooping through her stuff…Well, actually that’s not true. She asked me to put everything away, and I made this discovery of the three missing tests inadvertently.
My mind continues to race. I don’t know why I’m so involved with this. So what if Ophelia is pregnant? She’s in her late twenties. It’s not even that surprising. It’s not like she’s a teenager. It’s not a big deal.
I try to remember whether she was wearing a ring of any sort when I saw her. Wedding ring? Engagement ring? No, the only ring that I saw on her hand was a small twist ring around her thumb. If that was anything sentimental, then it definitely wasn’t from a significant other in her life.
But even if that was the case, who cares? She’s in her late twenties, and she has every right to be pregnant even if she isn’t married or engaged or with anyone. It’s none of my business, and no matter how much I want to tell Wyatt, it’s none of his business either. Damn it!
“Brielle! Brielle!” I hear Ophelia’s voice traveling up the stairs.
Jesus Christ, I say to myself. I just met her a few minutes ago and she’s already treating me like a servant.
“Yes?” I say walking to the top of the stairs.
“Are you done yet?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“Okay, great. Can you be a darling and get me some ice tea, please. I can’t find Mr. Whitewater anywhere and I’m so thirsty. It’s so fucking hot outside!”
I stare at her.
“Brielle?” she asks and snaps her fingers. “Are you there?”
“Did you just snap at me?”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s a dumb habit. I know we’re not supposed to do that to the staff anymore. But who can keep up with all of these changes in socioeconomic relationships?”
Who the hell is this woman? And does she live on this planet?
“Brielle? Ice tea, please?” she says and walks away.
I sigh. I have to talk to her about this, but something tells me that it will be a very long and tedious conversation.
I go down to the kitchen and get the pitcher of ice tea from the refrigerator. I pour her a glass and bring it to her in the living room, where Wyatt is still sitting on the couch.
“Here you go, Ophelia,” I say.
“So how did you two meet?” she asks when I turn around to leave the room.
I don’t know what to say.
“In a diner actually,” Wyatt says after a moment.
“A diner, really?” Ophelia asks in her snooty, stuck up way. “That’s weird.”
“Why’s that?” Wyatt challenges her.
“Just a step down from your typical fare, isn’t it?”
“And what’s that?” he asks. I’m on a verge of crying, and he’s actually going to make her say it. Why is he doing this? Why are they both acting like I’m not here?
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ophelia tosses her hair. She opens her compact and fixes her perfect lipstick application. “Cocktail waitresses in five-star hotels? They aren’t doing it for you anymore?”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Which tight end will it be this week, O? Or are you over football players in general now that certain quarterback dumped you for a Victoria Secret model?”
“Fuck you!” she turns to him. Wyatt wipes little droplets of spit off his face.
“Don’t start something you don’t want to finish, big sister. Or you’ll be up way past your bedtime.”
“Go fuck yourself, Wyatt,” Ophelia gets up from her seat.
“Oh, what’s the matter? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” Wyatt yells at her.
“He was my fucking fiancé, Wyatt,” she says. Her voice cracks a bit. Is she actually tearing up? No, that can’t be it.
“I don’t care,” Wyatt shrugs, unfazed. “Brielle is my guest, and you’re going to treat her with a little respect.”
Ophelia gets a hold of her feelings and returns back to normal. “This is my house, too, and I’m going to treat the help any way I want to, bro.”
Wyatt stood up for me. I’m grateful, but I also get the feeling that it made things a lot worse.
“Just so you know, we’re not having dinner together tonight,” Wyatt yells after her, but she simply slams the door behind her.
“I don’t think she was expecting to,” I say.
“Fuck,” Wyatt shakes his head. “I don’t know why she has to be like that.”
“Like what?” I joke.
“She’s not always like this. Sometimes, she’s nice. She can be really nice and kind. I don’t know what the hell is going on with her, but ever since that son of a bitch dumped her, she’s been a real bitch.”
I find it hard to believe that Ophelia wasn’t always a bitch, but I take his word for it.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about her.”
“It’s okay,” I sigh. I don’t really know how else to respond to this whole situation. I’ve never been treated like this by complete strangers before. “I just feel like she hates me or something. For no good reason. Do you think she’s jealous of me?”
Wyatt laughs. “No, I don’t think so.” His nonchalant laughter makes me tense up.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Just the thought of O being jealous of you?”
“You’re such a dick, Wyatt. You know that?” I shake my head and get up to leave.
“What? What did I say?”
I turn around to face him. The expression on his face is blank. He’s either a total idiot or completely clueless.
“For your information, I didn’t mean that O is jealous of me…I meant that she might be jealous of you and me. But you just had to take it somewhere shitty, didn’t you? You know, I have a lot to offer. Just because you all have money and I don’t have any doesn’t mean that no one can be jealous of me. You fuckin’ stuck up asshole.”
I turn and walk out the door.
Chapter 14 - Brielle
I don’t want to see his face again for a long time, but a few hours later, there’s knock at the door. I know who it is, but I don’t answer.
“Go away.”
“Brielle, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I don’t care. Go away,” I say without getting off the bed.
“I was just really mad at my sister for how she was treating you. I don’t know why she said any of those things.”
“It’s not her I’m mad at right now, Wyatt.”
“I know. I know,” he says and slaps the door with his hand. The slap is angry, but not at me. It sounds as if he’s angry with himself. “Brielle, please open the door. I really want to apologize to you face to face. And then I’m going to go.”
I take a moment, but eventually give in.
“What?” I ask opening the door. My hands are folded across my chest. I am in no mood to hear anything, but his most heartfelt apology.
“Brielle, I didn’t mean any of that. I’m not going to make any excuses. That was wrong of me to say. It was wrong, and it was also untrue. I was an asshole. You know it. I know it. I’m sorry.”
Wow. That was a much better apology than I’d expected. I thought he would make excuses, try to explain. I thought he would cloud up his apology with all the things that we usually say to diminish our wrongdoing. Bu
t he didn’t.
I look at him. He’s pressing both of his arms against the sides of the doorway and leaning into my room. But only slightly. He’s no longer the cocky, arrogant Wyatt, who I’ve come to find so attractive. There’s another side to him. A vulnerable side. And I find this side is just as attractive.
“Okay,” I nod.
“Okay?” his face lights up.
I nod again. I hate this part of the argument. That transition when one person apologizes and the other person accepts the apology. After that, there’s this gap or space that forms between the two people. The space demands to be filled with some sort of bodily contact, but neither of us seems sure of who the first person should be to make the contact. He’s the one who was wrong, the one who apologized, so I think it should be him. But looking at him and the way that his eyes are asking my permission, it seems like he thinks it should be me. Finally, I take a step forward.
That’s enough of a lead for him to lean forward and take me into his arms.
“You know I can’t stand your sister, right?” I say pulling away from him.
“Yes, I know that,” he presses his lips to mine.
“No, I don’t think you do,” I mumble. This time, I’m unable to pull away successfully. I struggle a little but eventually give in. His lips taste like strawberries, and his tongue dances with mine.
“How long is she staying here for?” I ask. I have to ask now before things get more out of control.
“Can we not talk about my sister right now?” Wyatt pulls at my tank top. “It’s a little hard to get in the mood.”
“Really?” I laugh. “You seem to be having no trouble.” I nudge him a little pointing at the hard thing in his jeans thats pushing into my stomach.
He laughs and continues to kiss me. He kisses my neck and makes his way down to the top of my breasts.
“How long will she be here for?” I ask again. I need to have a date that I can look forward to.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles with his face buried in my cleavage. “A few days. A week, maybe.”
I nod. I try to believe him. I want to tell him that it may be months, because she might be pregnant. Who the hell gets pregnant like that in today’s day and age, anyway? How stupid could she be? My mind wanders again, but Wyatt’s sloppy kisses bring me back into this moment. Whatever I may know or not know, I’m not going to tell him tonight. That would ruin everything.
“Let’s not talk about her anymore,” I say.
“Good idea,” he smiles.
Wyatt pushes me back against the wall and presses his whole body against mine. He pulls on my hair slightly as he kisses my neck and my lips. The pressing and the pulling gives me goosebumps, and I feel myself getting wet. After a moment of high intensity, the kissing slows to a more measured pace. It’s like the desperation for our each other has vanished, if only for a moment, and we can really enjoy our time together.
But then Wyatt pulls away. His face has a very serious expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I’m just not sure what all of this is going to do to our agreed upon friendship.”
I don’t even wait a second to answer. “Nothing. It’s going to be good for it.”
“Really? Are most friendships improved with jumping into bed together?” His lips are forming into a coy, little smile. I realize that he’s joking. Making fun of me. Teasing me, even.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. He’s back to the cocky, arrogant guy I first laid my eyes on. “The ball’s in your court.”
Fuck! I don’t want the ball. I want him to push me down and have his way with me. I want to just be taken over by feelings and pleasure without any of the responsibility of owning my feelings or decisions. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“What are you going to do, Brielle?” Wyatt mocks me. “Are you going to ask me to stay a little longer? Or are you going to play by the rules?”
He’s joking and making fun, but I know that his heart will be broken if I say I want to play by the rules. Stupid rules of friendship. Why did I put that in place anyway?
“And what if I asked you to leave?” I ask licking my lips. He stares at them as if he can’t look away.
“Then I’ll leave,” he says quietly.
“You promise?” I ask.
He cracks a smile. Who’s going to give in first? I don’t really care as long as it’s someone.
“Please ask me to come in,” he finally whispers.
I can’t believe it! I’ve actually got him to do it!
“You’re such a pushover,” I laugh.
“No, not at all,” he wraps his arms around me. “I just want you a lot.”
Wyatt’s lips are soft and irresistible. He holds me tight against his hard body, and we float over to the bed. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but it feels like floating even though he’s still completely in a cast.
His hands travel over my body, and I moan softly. There are no more rules to be break – all of them have already been broken. No, all of them are about to be broken. And that’s okay.
He strokes and kneads my thighs and they open up for him as if they were petals of a flower at sunrise. I get flushed with lust.
His hands pull my tank top over my head and allow my breasts to fall out. Wyatt grabs one with his hand and puts the other into his mouth. It feels like an electric current is running through me, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but this moment. Suddenly, the current focuses itself on the lower part of my body.
Wyatt’s tongue starts to move his way down my body in endless circles. He sends me into a spiral of pleasure. I groan and buckle against him. I move my hands down his rock hard body and discover that he’s already naked. No jeans. No underwear. I’m not sure how or when he had taken them off, but I’m happy to find his hard cock straining for me.
I grip his cock and start to pump it slowly. Wyatt’s hands make their way inside of me and push me to the brink of the unknown. I wrap my legs around his body and push his cock inside of me.
It doesn’t take either of us very long. A shuddering swell of sensation rises from somewhere deep within me. Wyatt starts to groan and I gasp. I throw my head back and a strong orgasm washes over me, rippling throughout my body and reaching its furthest extremes. With one last moan, Wyatt collapses on top of me.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. We stay up late eating junk food and laughing about every idiotic thing imaginable. He tells me stories of his brothers and how much they had as little kids, and I tell him funny stories of my own sister. I thought that having sex would change something for the worse. That’s why I didn’t want to do it originally. I thought it would make things odd and awkward, but instead I discovered that it only made things better.
“You know, I don’t get you,” I say. Wyatt is lying with his head on my pelvis, and we’re both staring at the ceiling.
“What don’t you get?”
“Well, with other guys, my other boyfriends, they just rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately after.”
“Agh, Brielle,” he waves his hand in disgust. “I don’t want to hear about other guys right now. Not after that.”
“That was good. There’s no denying that.”
“Okay? So?”
“I was just trying to give you a compliment. All I wanted to say was that you’re not like all of them.”
“How’s that?” Wyatt turns to me and props up his head with his hand.
“Well, we just had awesome sex, right?”
“Right.”
“Awesome, mind-blowing sex?”
“Yes, I agree,” he smiles.
“And you still want to talk to me afterward?”
“Who the hell have you been sleeping with that they didn’t want to talk to you afterward?” he jokes. “Geez! And I thought I had bad taste in the opposite sex.”
>
“No, no, no,” I laugh. I love the easiness of our relationship. It’s so easy to joke and laugh with him. It’s almost as if it’s unreal. “It’s not that they don’t want to talk to me afterward…it’s just different after sex. It’s like the chase is over, and now they just want to relax.”
“Well, I’m not like that,” he kisses me.
“Yes, I can see that,” I kiss him back.
“Besides, those guys are idiots.”
“How so?”
“The chase is never over,” he says confidently with his head tilted back. “What they don’t take into account is that it doesn’t just have to be a one time thing. One night does not mean one time.”
I look at him. His face is very serious and stern. Then with a little crack of the lips, a small smile starts to form, and I laugh out loud.
“Oh I see. So you’re taking the long view of things, are you?”
He comes close to me again. His kisses me on my upper lip then my lower lip. Then he starts to kiss down my neck.
“The long view is all there is,” he whispers. “And the night’s still young.”
He pushes me back down on the bed with one arm and pulls up my nightie.
“No panties, huh?” he kisses my belly button.
“You’re going to regret it.” Wyatt’s kisses go further and further down. At first, I try to resist, but eventually I tilt my head back and open my thighs.
“I kinda doubt that,” I whisper and let a waterfall of pleasure cover me from head to toe.
Chapter 15 - Wyatt
Brielle is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I don’t know who those idiots were that fell asleep immediately after having sex with her, but all I want to do is stay up and worship her all night. I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to be with her. It is almost five o’clock when we finally fall asleep in each other’s arms after a long night of lovemaking. I thought I was in shape, but my whole body is sore all over. Not just my cock.
The following morning, I wake up and notice that it’s almost noon. Brielle is nowhere to be found, but comes back after I get dressed.
“I made you some breakfast,” she says carrying a tray with waffles, pancakes, and fresh fruit. “I would’ve loved to go out and gotten some bagels and some store bought coffee, but this will have to do.”
Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction Page 17