Always The Hero (Plot Twist, I'm Pregnant Book 2)

by Kelli Callahan

  I was here to remind her otherwise.

  She moaned against me, hips rocking, trying to relieve herself on the skin of my cock. I lapped at the water on her skin, and for some reason, I swore it tasted sweeter. I made a sound of delight in the back of my throat before tossing her on the bed. The comforter immediately started to spot from the water. Her tits bounced, heavy and preparing for our child’s milk, and that only made me harder.

  Fuck. I had no idea I would have such a primal reaction. I circled my fingers around her ankles and yanked her to the edge of the bed and then flipped her over onto her belly. Abigail yelped from the unexpected move, but I wanted her ass wet with water when I spanked her, and if I waited any longer, her skin wouldn’t be damp.

  Her skin had a pale pink hue to it from the bath, looking beautiful and new. I rubbed my hands down the planes of her back, marveling at her lean lines and the knots dotting her spine. She had two dimples above her ass, and I bent down and kissed each one. I spread her legs suddenly, jerking them open so she could be on display.

  She groaned into the bed.

  “Do you know why you’re about to get spanked?” I murmured against the cleft of her ass.

  “No,” Abigail whimpered. “What did I do?”

  I licked down the crease, probing her puckered star before sliding down to her tight hole and moaned around her labia. Fuck, her pussy was so silky. I sucked the skin into my mouth and let it go without a pop. I did the same with the lips, popping one into my mouth, letting it go, then adoring the other.

  She writhed against me, whining pathetically for my touch. I loved it when she wanted me that badly.

  “You called yourself stupid. You know how much I dislike it when you do that, baby.”

  “I’m sorry,” she drawled out on a loud moan.

  “No, you aren’t, or you wouldn’t keep doing it,” I said, kissing each side of her pussy. Mmm, so perfect. “I won’t stop spanking you until you come.”

  “Logan!” she cried. “No, please. Fuck me. I need it,” she said. “I need you so much.”

  When she talked like that, it was hard not to give in and give her exactly what she wanted, but I had to spank her. I couldn’t have her talking about herself like that. I pressed my palm to the base of my cock to stop myself from painting her ass with my come. I could. Right now.

  But I had to wait.

  “Logan? Please, I want your fat cock in me, stretching, oh, god, just thinking about it, I’m on edge.” She started to hump the bed to get herself off by rubbing her clit.

  It made a stream of come leave my cock. The thick white cream landed on her left ass cheek, and it was my undoing. I brought my hand up, and when my palm met her ass, she clutched the sheets in her fists and bit her forearm. “I want to hear you scream, baby,” I said, bringing my hand down on her again.

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  And it only took three strikes of my hand to see gushes of juice flow from her sweet cunt, trickling down her thighs. I dropped to my knees and ran my tongue up each leg, gathering every drop of her delicious nectar. I followed the trail to her pussy and latched on, plunging my tongue in her hole while my nose was buried in the crease of her ass.

  There was nothing fucking better than this. Nothing.

  “Logan! Fuck!”

  She was cursing more, the more time we spent together and the more she spoke. It wasn’t often, usually just when she was angry or in bed. And I found it so hot. My cock jerked again and come wanted to explode from my shaft. My balls were tight against my body, begging me for release.

  She needed to come again.

  I reached between her ass cheeks and swirled my pinky around her pucker. She mewled, bucking against me when I inserted the tip of my finger. It’s the first time I had ever done something like that, but she liked it since she was coming again, and my mouth dripped from her sweet honey.

  I ripped my mouth from her and stood, licking my lips for every drop that I never wanted to miss. She shook, the after tremors of her orgasms involuntarily making her body spasm. It made a man feel fucking good; I’d say that much. I wrapped my hand around my cock and hissed from how sensitive I was. I burned with need, I ached. My erection fucking hurt, and if I didn’t get inside her right now, I just might die.

  I wanted her on top of me though. I wanted my hands full of her tits and my eyes on her belly. Something about it, fucking hell, I didn’t know, but I knew I had to see this woman who chose me, loved me, and was pregnant with my child, ride me.

  I crawled over her, dragging the tip of my cock up her spine, dragging precome onto every divot her spine created. Once I was above her head, she flipped over and sucked me down her throat. I wasn’t expecting it, and the feeling of that hot, wet mouth was too much. She did everything I liked, hollowed her cheeks, hummed, so the tip of my cock felt the vibrations and teased her teeth along the hard length.

  I couldn’t hold back. I came, tossing my head back and howling her name as I poured myself down her throat. She swallowed me greedily and never stopping sucking me until I was hard again.

  Good girl. She remembered what I always wanted her to do.

  “I should spank you for that,” I said, laying my head on the pillow and getting situated as she swung her leg over my lap and rubbed her sheath over me, yanking an unmanly moan from my throat.

  “You should.” Her brown eyes were blown black from her pupil, glassy with lust and desire.

  I gripped her ass in my hand, gave it a good shake, and brought my hands down at the same time, slapping the fine globes. Wetness drenched my cock, and I grinned. She couldn’t be any more perfect if she tried.

  Abigail grabbed hold of my cock and hovered over me before guiding it to her entrance with a slow and excruciating pace as she finally engulfed me. I sank into her tight hole, the heat swallowing me inch by inch, and my toes curled from the pleasure. I had just come, and I could come again, right now.

  My endurance was never so bad before, but at least I could get it up again, unlike most guys. Abigail was too good; she felt too right.

  Her hands landed on my pecs, and she gripped them in her palm as much as she could before rocking. We groaned in unison as the wet sounds of her pussy sliding on my cock filled the room. Every few seconds, I would have to hold my breath, so I could concentrate on not filling her up.

  “Logan,” she whimpered as my hands traced the outline of her hourglass figure. She had really filled out the last few weeks from eating properly, and I had no idea she could get sexier, but fuck me, these curves, I didn’t stand a chance against her. I cupped her tits and flicked my tongue across my bottom lip when I felt how heavy they were. I tweaked her nipples, and it caused her entire body to buck. “Oh, my breasts are so sensitive.”

  “In a bad way?” I asked. I never wanted to hurt her.

  Her hair danced with how hard she shook her head, and that was all I needed to pinch the elongated hard peaks. She fucked me harder, crying out at the top of her lungs from the nipple play. I was going to make a mental note of this.

  “It’s so hot watching you squirm, baby,” I said, tugging on the light pink buds.

  “I’m going to come,” she said as she gasped for air. “Oh, fuck. Logan. Logan!” she screamed my name the last time, and the intensity that rang in it was all it took for my orgasm to slam into me at the same time hers did. I pumped her full of my come until it leaked out like a river. Her inner walls still pulsed as she fell over my chest, soaking up the post−orgasmic bliss.

  I maneuvered us to our sides, my cock slipping free, and I pulled her close to me to feel her body heat. My hands laid across her stomach, and I had a goofy grin on my face. No one should be allowed to be that happy. It was insane how good my life was.

  “What has you smiling?”

  I stared into her back, a little taken aback. “How did you know? You can’t see me.”

  “No, but I can feel you,” she said as she flipped over and ran her hands through my damp hair.

&nb
sp; If anything happened to this woman, I’d be able to feel it for the rest of my life; there would be no doubt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Abigail

  Take away my days, but never take away my nights with this man.

  I stared at Logan, sleeping through the raging thunderstorm outside, and I couldn’t help but smile. He could sleep through a bomb. Lightning cracked and lit up the night while thunder rolled and rumbled, shaking the house with its anger. Rain hissed against the windows, and the tree branches screeched along the glass, reminding me of nails against a chalkboard.

  Lightning struck again, and the shadow of the branches looked like long boney fingers trying to open the window. I knew I was safe here. Nothing could hurt me. I flipped over onto my back and grabbed the remote off the table and turned on the tv Logan finally installed yesterday. The news came on, and what I read made my blood run cold.

  Three people dead. All stabbed at a gas station, and they were asking for everyone to be on the lookout for Steven Kirkland. His picture came up at the same time someone rang the doorbell. I screamed, holding a hand to my chest, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing, and my entire body broke out in a hot sweat.

  “What is it?” Logan jolted awake when the doorbell rang again. “Who the fuck is ringing the doorbell at…” he checked the time, “two in the morning?”

  “I don’t know, but Logan, look.” I pointed to the screen with a shaky hand, and Logan jumped out of bed and grabbed the shotgun from the corner. “I’ll be back, okay? If I’m not back in two minutes, panic room. Okay?”

  “No, don’t leave me,” I begged and reached out for him, but he was too far away.

  Knocking started at the door, a loud pound.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  I cried when Logan ran down the hall, and even from the living room, I could hear the cock of the gun. I muted the tv, held my breath, and waited to see if I could hear who was at the door.

  “Fuck, Cortez, you scared us.”

  “Stay awake tonight. We have reason to think he will come here. He already killed three people today. He is getting tired of waiting. He’s coming for her. Prepare yourselves.”

  I gulped and screamed again when the branches hit the window. Logan ran down the hall again, pointing the gun around the bedroom. “Fuck, baby. You scared me half to death, what is it?”

  Cortez was behind him, gun also drawn as he looked around the room.

  “I’m on edge, I’m sorry. The tree hit the window, and with his face on the news, I’m jumpy.”

  “It’s okay,” Logan sat next to me and pulled me into his arms, my safe haven.

  Cortez dripped water all over the hardwood floors from standing out in the rain. “Don’t worry about a thing. I have officers surrounding the place. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Are we sure he wants me?” I asked, maybe we were wrong.

  Cortez sighed and took three steps into the bedroom and took his phone out, pressing a few buttons and showed me the screen. “You tell me. This was painted in his prison cell and in the bathrooms in the gas station in the blood of his victims.”

  Abigail. Abigail. Abigail. Mine. Mine. Mine. Abigail.

  It repeated and repeated until I felt sick and dizzy. I ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before throwing up my dinner. I saw the red in my mind, dripping down the walls and then the blood on my hands a year and a half ago, and I heaved again. A cold, wet cloth hit the back of my neck, and Logan rubbed soothing circles on my back.

  I lived longer on the streets than I thought. My life changed because of this killer forever. He took my life, and I hated that he still affected me, I wanted him dead. I wanted to live again. I wanted to make happy memories. I didn’t want to always look over my shoulder and wonder.

  “What does he want with me?” I cried and then spit into the toilet. I ripped toilet paper off the roll and wiped my mouth off, grabbed a new sheet, and dried my tears.

  “He always takes entire families. He never leaves one member alive. You put a kink in his perfect system he has in his fucked-up mind,” Cortez said in the doorway of the bathroom. His radio went off, but he ignored it. I guess it had nothing to do with him or the killer, or he would be running out the door.

  That actually made me feel better.

  “Sorry,” I said and reached for the handle to flush. I told Logan I didn’t want anyone to know we were pregnant until the twelve−week mark. I wanted to be out of the first trimester before people knew. “It’s just upsetting. I’m scared.”

  “You have every right to be, but you aren’t alone, okay?”

  “How does he know where I live?” I asked.

  “Public record. You signed up to get mail, you got your license, everything points to this address.”

  “That’s terrifying.”

  “I’m going to go patrol the area, okay? Rest knowing you have five cops outside.”

  Cortez left, but it still didn’t bring me comfort. How would he feel if he had a serial killer frothing at the mouth for him?

  “Is the baby okay? Are you?” Logan asked, lifting me into his strong arms as he walked back into the bedroom and laid me down. “You want a glass of water?”

  I nodded and wrapped my hand around my belly. “What if something happens to our baby because of this?” I asked in a shaking voice, staring at a blank space on the wall.

  Logan placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and took my hands in his. “I won’t let anything happen to the two of you. That I promise,” he said. “I know that doesn’t mean anything right now because the threat is still out there, but it means something to me. I know that I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Come on, let’s lay down and watch a movie.”

  “You want to watch a movie right now?”

  “What else is there to do besides being restless?” he asked as he settled against the headboard. He held out his arm, the nook empty and waiting for me. “Come on, let me hold you.”

  I gave in, buried my head against his chest, and breathed him in. He smelt like home. I had finally calmed down when lightning lit up the sky again, and the power cut off.

  “Logan?” My chest pounded.

  “It’s okay, hold on. I’m grabbing a flashlight.” A few seconds later, he had this huge round light out that was battery powered and turned it on. “See? Nothing to worry about. It’s just the storm.” His cell phone rang, cutting through the tension, and he answered, “Hey. What? Just our house?”

  My heart dropped to my feet.

  “Yeah, of course,” Logan said before hanging up the phone and sliding it into his pocket. “Our house is the only house without power.”

  “It’s him. He is here, isn’t he?”

  That time Logan had nothing to say to calm me down because he knew that the possibility of the killer being here was likely.

  “We are going to the let the cops do their job, but right now, I want us to get into the panic room, okay? We have cameras, back up generators, food, water, blankets, everything we need. Come on,” Logan held out his hand, and I didn’t hesitate. I took it, and he opened the closet door and led us to the back. “It only works for my hand and yours,” he said, placing my palm on the scanner. The door opened, and it looked like a small cubby hole at first. I bent down and crawled inside, only to be shocked when it opened up to a large room.

  I had never been inside the panic room before, but wow, he really did want us to be safe.

  “I want you here at all times, okay? Snowstorms, hurricanes, tornadoes—”

  “We don’t really get hurricanes,” I said, sitting in the bean−bag chair as I stared at the ten monitors on the desk. “Or tornadoes.”

  “But we get snow and serial killers, so I always want you here, okay?” Logan sat by the door, looking like he was ready to leave.

  “Logan, come here. Sit with me.”

  “I can’t do that baby. Cortez might need my help.”<
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  “No, no, you aren’t going out there!” I yelled, scrambling to get up and to him.

  With a pained expression, he grabbed the handle. “I love you. I’ll be back.” With a groan of the metal hinges, he slammed the door closed.

  “Logan!” I screamed his name, choking on the emotion in my throat. “Please, Logan. Open the door. Come back,” I begged. I pulled the handle with every ounce of strength I had, but it wouldn’t budge. I didn’t understand; how was I supposed to get out?

  He locked me in.

  I ran toward the monitors and studied all of them. Everything was in black and white, but the picture was clear. “Logan,” I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him walking down the hall, alive.

  He had two guns, one in each hand. He checked all the doors to make sure they were locked, and when he was satisfied, he looked up toward the camera and blew me a kiss.

  “I’m going to kill him when this is done,” I growled through clenched teeth. My eyes lifted to another monitor and saw one cop behind the house, speaking into his radio. I wasn’t sure how Logan got this to work when the power went out, but I was thankful.

  An arm wrapped around the cop’s throat. “Oh god,” I yelled, banging against the monitor in hopes he could hear me, even when I knew he couldn’t.

  He’s here.

  I watched in horror as the blade drove through the man’s back and out through his chest. He fell onto his knees, and the man that killed my parents gripped the man by his hair and pulled his head back, slicing his throat. Silent tears fell down my cheeks, and I watched another cop come around the house, gun drawn.

  Steven Kirkland threw a small knife into the cop’s head and turned his head over his shoulder. It was as if he knew I was watching him.

  He killed two cops in a matter of seconds.

  He wore regular clothes, jeans, and a flannel shirt. Big boots, like biker boots, and he had knife holders along his belt.