by C. C. Piper
My entire day had been a shitshow, and now this.
“I …” She seemed shocked that I’d deny it. But I wasn’t about to fall prey to some gold digger scam. “You are. This isn’t something I would lie about.”
I huffed out a humorless laugh, smirking openly at her now. Whatever her game was, I wasn’t playing it. “Yeah, I’m sorry you found yourself in such a predicament, but I had nothing to do with it.”
I figured she’d back down at that. My tone had been not only sarcastic but cutting. Yet she squared her shoulders and stood her ground. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the past year, Trevor.”
Did she honestly expect me to believe that? Jessie Souza was one of the sexiest creatures I’d ever met. Men probably hit on her on a daily basis. Once they picked their jaws up off the ground, anyway. So her claiming that I had been her only recent lover had to be bullshit. There’s no way. Just, no fucking way.
Still, I’d better unearth what she was really after so I could be prepared. My irritation escalated into real anger. I’d misjudged her. She’d come across as sweet, maybe even a little naïve. But clearly, that’d been an act. Not only had she inextricably managed to track my ass down, she was aiming lies at me like a javelin. Mean lies. So, she was either a creepy stalker or a con artist or both.
“Let’s just cut to the chase here, shall we?” I suggested, the words themselves might’ve been polite but my tone was pure ice. “Why don’t you tell me why you went to all this trouble to seek me out? Exactly how much do you want?”
“How much?” she spluttered out.
Oh, come on.
“Christ, if you really want me to spell it out for you, I will. Money. How much money are you after? What’s the magic number that’ll make certain you never darken my doorstep again?” Not than I planned on giving her any.
Dammit, this had never happened to me before. I supposed I’d have to go to the Wish Maker and lodge a complaint. The whole point in going to her in the first place was to avoid crap like this. She should’ve vetted this Jessie Souza better, if Jessie Souza or Jessica Isabelle weren’t just made-up aliases.
“I don’t want your money,” she squeaked out. Seriously, the girl actually squeaked. Maybe she hoped the sad sound would make her more sympathetic or something. “I … I just wanted to inform you.”
Right.
“So that … what?” I asked her. She hadn’t sought me out for nothing. I didn’t believe that for a second.
“So that you would know.” She touched her abdomen when she said it, and my gaze followed her movement.
If this woman really was preggers, wouldn’t it be more noticeable? Shouldn’t she be more rounded out? I’d seen Jax’s wife Roxy as her pregnancy progressed, and her body had changed dramatically. Even early on, if you looked at Roxy pointedly enough, you could tell she had a baby on the way. I stared at Jessie Souza’s tiny waist. It looked as flat and tight as I remembered it from a few months ago.
Other than appearing more bedraggled than she’d been the night of our date, I saw no other discernible difference in her. So go sell your wares to some other sap, darlin’.
“Well, you told me.” I put finger quotes up in the air when saying the word “told.” How dare she try to pull a fast one on me. I’d really liked her, too. Unlike most of my Wish Maker dates, Jessica had made frequent reappearances in my warm shower time performances. She’d been so hot. And now, she’d ruined my image of her completely. I yanked my door open and waved her toward it. “Time for you to go. Bye now.”
Jesus, I hoped she wasn’t crazy, like legitimately so. I’d hate to have to deal with that on top of everything else.
I squinted at her warily, and that’s when I saw it. Tears glimmering in her eyes unshed. Damn, she was good. Seeing that actually made me feel bad. Guilty. Because if she was to turn out pregnant for real, that would make me a total douche. Then, as quickly as the emotion went on display, she sniffled and steeled her petite spine. I was struck by the difference in our heights again. She was such a little wisp of a thing. But she had balls, I had to give her that.
Those almost tears nearly tripped me up. Nice touch.
Without another word, she stormed through my door and out into the hallway, heading for the elevator. I wondered if I hadn’t already had a hold of the door, if she would’ve slammed it. That would’ve made a strong impression, right? Added to the melodrama of her fake situation.
I went back to my recliner, trying to return to my game, but though I watched the screen, my mind was elsewhere. Not in a million years would I ever have anticipated getting accused of such a thing.
I shook my head at myself. See, this was why I didn’t date in the traditional way. I didn’t need this in my life. This stress and uneasiness. Even though she was the guilty party, I still felt yucky now. Being kind and gentlemanly to the opposite sex had been engrained in me since birth, but I hadn’t acted like that tonight. Not that she’d deserved being treated nicely, but still.
Ugh. I was damned either way.
The longer I sit there blocking out the football game, the longer doubts began to creep into my brain. Doubts and questions. How did she locate me? Why did she target me? And worst of all, why hadn’t she asked anything of me?
That was the thing that made the least sense of all. Why come here, disrupt my night, accuse me of impregnating her, and then just leave with nothing? Was it because I called her bluff? She hadn’t asked for money. She hadn’t asked for a ring. She hadn’t even asked for my time beyond the few minutes it’d taken her to weave her tale of woe.
I downed the rest of my beer in a few gulps, then leapt up to get something stronger. Beer wasn’t going to do it tonight. I knocked back a few shots of whiskey, not stopping until the room around me looked fuzzy around the edges. I felt warmer and more relaxed now, so I threw back one additional shot before sauntering back to my recliner and falling into it. Putting my feet up, I let the images from my television float blearily by. My eyes felt heavy.
When I felt myself nodding off, I was glad.
What I needed more than anything from this day was for it to end.
9
Jessie
For the following two days I stayed in bed, vacillating between misery and near hysteria. The whole scenario was a bit too familiar to me. I hadn’t ever thought I’d wind up back in such a similar place again.
I didn’t know what I’d hoped for when I’d gone to Trevor’s posh Manhattan apartment. But I hadn’t foreseen his reaction at all. He’d denied it flat out, had acted as if I was a liar. Then, when he’d accused me of trying to get money out of him, my brain had sort of gone offline. It was the last thing I’d thought he’d say.
I thought maybe he’d tell me what he wanted. Whether he thought it’d be a good idea to go through with this or not. If I was going to get rid of it, that decision needed to be made sooner rather than later. And I wanted his opinion, either way.
Instead, I’d received snarky comments and incredulity. And ire. He’d been furious at me. Not because I was pregnant, but because he’d thought I’d planned to cheat him. Of all the twisted fucked-up notions to have. I’d been so sideswiped by this that I hadn’t known how to respond. So, I’d left. And I had no intention of going back.
I played out various what-ifs in my head. What if I got rid of it? I couldn’t afford a child. I was struggling terribly as it was. If I terminated the pregnancy, then that would probably be better for me. My life would go on like it had been. I’d complete my degree and hopefully find a teaching job. Everything would stay on course.
Except that my heart would break into hundreds of pieces. When I let myself go there and think about scheduling an abortion, I felt sick. Physically ill. I’d experienced a miscarriage once in my life already, and it’d been excruciating in every sense of the word. I didn’t think I could choose to end the pregnancy, no matter how much financial sense it might make.
I wanted to be responsible and make the most logic
al decision, but I had to allow for more than logic, as well. If I let things progress naturally, that group of cells inside of me would change and grow. With time, it would turn into a new life. A baby.
My baby.
But if I kept it, I could be damning us both to a more difficult existence, up to and including possible homelessness. It was one thing for me to suffer, but if my baby suffered and it was my fault? I didn’t know if I could ever get over that. It might cause that child to hate me like my own mother hated me. And I didn’t know if I could handle that.
All I was left with were impossible decisions.
Finally, I gave up my charade. After forty-eight hours of ducking my roommate by saying I didn’t want her to catch my cooties, I went up to Ashley as she made some microwave popcorn.
“Hey, Ash.”
“Hey,” she smiled over at me like her mom might. Kindly. “You feeling any better?”
“Uh, I have something to confess,” I said, tugging on one of my tight curls. “I wasn’t actually sick. Well, at least not in that way.”
“Okay …”
“I’m …” God, I pictured the incredulous expression on Trevor’s face and almost lost my nerve.
“You’re what, Jess?” She put a soothing hand on my arm. “You’re starting to scare me now.”
I took a deep inhale and blew it out of my mouth. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, honey,” she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. My eyes prickled. Ashley had stayed my friend through thick and thin. I should’ve known she wouldn’t toss me out onto the streets when I gave her distressing news.
She wasn’t my mother.
“I want to keep it, but I don’t know how to make that work.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. How far along are you?”
I winced. “Three months, give or take.”
Ashley’s jaw dropped. “Have you known all this—”
But I interrupted her, not wanting my best friend to think I’d go so long without telling her something so important. “I just found out. You know how my periods are irregular?”
She nodded.
“Well, I didn’t think anything of how I was feeling until you mentioned your aunt being pregnant. And even then, I didn’t want to seriously consider it. But I got a couple of stick tests and …”
“And you are.”
I nodded.
“I have an appointment tomorrow, and I’m terrified. Will you go with me?”
“Of course, I will.” She continued to hold me for a long minute, then asked, “Who’s the dad, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Remember that date I had where we went out really nice?”
“Yeah. You guys hooked up, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I expelled a mirthless chuckle. I hadn’t mentioned anything about the Wish Maker’s involvement, nor did I intend to. Abruptly, it occurred to me that if my mother ever caught privy to that night, she’d call me a whore again. And this time, she might even be right.
God.
“Are you going to tell him?”
My eyes prickled again. Dammit. “Already tried.”
“Didn’t go well, I take it.”
“No,” I choked out. Stupid hitching chest with my stupid wet eyes that wouldn’t quit tearing up.
“Well, fuck him.”
I jerked my head up so fast I might’ve caused myself some whiplash. Ashley never cursed. Ever. Without being able to stop it, I barked out a blast of laughter.
“Damn, Ash!”
She blushed deeply, the color running all the way from her forehead to her neck.
“I’m just so sick and tired of the people in your life dumping on you.”
“You’ve never once done that,” I reminded her, finding a smile.
“And I never will.”
My best friend was as good as her word, of course. She went with me to the doctor, then we journeyed to a local thrift store so I could buy a couple of maternity outfits. My future might be chock full of frightening prospects and total unknowns, but I felt better knowing I didn’t have to go through it all alone.
10
Trevor
FEBRUARY
It’d been a month since Jessie Souza had come to my door, and I couldn’t keep from mulling the whole conversation—as well as our night together—over in my mind. As usual, I’d been working a gazillion hours a week, so mostly, I was too busy to focus on anything else.
Still, at odd moments she would sneak in there unbidden. When I was awake and firing on all cylinders, I’d remember how pissed I was at her late-night intrusion. I remained uncertain about how she hunted down my private address. Why she’d sought me out only to leave empty-handed.
I’d planned to rip the Wish Maker a new one, but I never followed through. The truth was, I was beginning to contemplate whether or not I’d somehow fucked up and impregnated my date for real.
Because I’d definitely used a condom. I always did. But things had gotten a little out of hand that night. I remembered every detail of it as clear as day, often reliving some of the steamier scenes with my hand finishing me off in my shower.
After dinner, one of the Wish Maker’s drivers had taken us to the hotel—I preferred not to use my own Lexus SUV at times like this—and we’d absconded into a room with a durable bed. Back at home, I’d always used Hotel Peter and Paul because all their bed frames were made out of rugged wrought iron. It made placing a woman in restraints easy.
Here in the Big Apple, the Wish Maker had set us up in the Sixty Soho. The hotel was predictably near Soho, but location didn’t matter. What mattered was the sturdy four-poster beam construction suspended over the queen-sized mattress. Those beams were four inches thick and solid to the core.
Talk about perfect for my purposes.
And they were. They so were.
We’d gotten past any awkwardness and were communicating well, joking around and making quips back and forth. Jessica was my favorite type of date. She gave as good as she got, and she did it with this endearing half-smile that knocked my socks off.
Fast forward to the main event.
We’d kissed on the couch for a while—I like a good warm-up—then I’d discussed the terms of our evening. I’d suggested the safe word be “flower” simply because there’d been a huge spray of them down in the lobby.
I’d told her not to hesitate to use it, because I did not get off on actual pain. If anything, if what I was doing became too much for her, she was to say the safe word, and everything would immediately halt. It didn’t matter that I was paying her for her time. It would stop. I made certain she fully understood that.
I’d enjoyed stripping her bare. Even with that mandarin dress covering everything so modestly, I’d known what was beneath that silky fabric would be extraordinary. And, of course, I’d been right. Luscious tanned skin all over her. Plump lips and breasts with delectably dark nipples that made me go from hard to harder than I’d ever been before.
For a moment there, I’d wondered if I might even pass out. How much blood could a brain lose and still keep a man alive, anyway?
She’d been such a sight to behold laying there on those white sheets, her body laid out on display. And once I brought out the silken rope I kept stockpiled discreetly in my home closet, her breath had come in quick bursts that made her breasts jiggle in the most delicious way. She’d looked nervous, but since all of her was exposed to me, including her glistening pink center, I knew she was just as turned on as she was nervous. Maybe more.
So I’d tied her into place, arms over her head and legs in a wide V. Then, I’d blindfolded her. Next, I stroked myself because … damn. I couldn’t help it. I’d been with a lot of women. Likely over a hundred. But there was something about Jessica Isabelle Souza that called out to me like no one else.
I couldn’t even say precisely what it was. Her exceptional looks. Her wild curly hair. Her natural yet honeyed scent. But whatever it was, I was aching and leaking f
or her before we even started, especially when she bit her lip.
I’d had to concentrate and redirect my focus. The dominant must always maintain absolute control at any given time not only to provide the heights of pleasure, but also for safety reasons. What could start out as a light paddling could become a violent thrashing if a dom lost himself—or herself—in the act. Desire has a will of its own. So discipline is essential.
The first thing I’d done is place my erection at her lips. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” she’d said.
“How does it feel?”
“Hard,” she’d answered, just like I’d wanted. “Yet soft. Warm.”
“Would you like a taste?”
“Yes, please.”
“You may take one, then.”
And when her pink tongue flicked out and over the crown of me, I’d had to bite back a groan. I didn’t like to be vocal until the end, but whether it was her or the fact that I’d been behaving like a monk for a while, this was proving to be a challenge. So I decided to do something I never had. I decided to relieve some pressure right there at the beginning.
Leaning over her with one knee of the bed, I pushed closer to her. “Kiss it,” I told her next. Then, “Suck it. Take the whole head.”
She had a small mouth and I’m both long and thick, so I knew any deep throat action would be out of the question. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give me what I wanted. She was sucking on me carefully, too carefully for my tastes, but I still rewarded her for obeying without hesitation by kneading both her breasts. She moaned around me, and I closed my eyes, doing my best to maintain.
Yeah, I was going to have to relieve that pressure for sure.
I reached down into her core, fingering her up and down until her moans became a constant unending hum. Then, I circled her clit over and over with light pressure, then with greater and greater amounts of resistance until I could feel her starting to throb against my fingertips.