So Much Trouble: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection (So Wrong It's Right Book 4)

by Jamie Knight

  Getting me to fill her mouth with cum, Shae swallowed it all down, maintaining eye-contact as she did so. It was extremely hot. Taking her by the shoulders, I helped her to her feet. Shae's hand was still holding my cock while I was kissing her passionately.

  “Want to lick me?” Shae asked, breathlessly against my lips.

  I nodded emphatically, too excited to speak. Shae lay down at the edge of the bed, opening her legs wide in welcome. Taking her lightly by the ankles, I got onto my knees and gave her a long slow lick along her sweet, pink pussy lips. Shae moaned her approval, and I kept going along the same theme until she literally vibrated as she came.

  Kissing my way along her soft, warm body, I worked my way back up to her mouth, kissing her lips deeply. I was in position to slide my cock inside her.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Yes, please!”

  Consent given, I slid the head of my cock against her pussy before easing it in her, getting in about halfway before she started to look uncomfortable. I eased back a bit, Shae's entire body relaxing as though breathing a sigh of relief, letting me know that my first instinct had been correct. Giving her a moment to get used to the feeling, I started to move, working in her slowly. Shae's pussy tightened around me, seeming to not want to let go. The longer I pumped, the more relaxed Shae got, letting me pick up speed, building up to a steady, moderate rhythm. She moaned and gasping with delight as I fucked her.

  She felt so good it didn't take long for both of us to cum. I slipped two fingers inside her to assist with her orgasm while getting my cock to her mouth to deliver a second helping of the cum she honestly seemed to love.

  Massaging her pussy while she came down, I repositioned Shae so I could get on the bed next to her. Kissing lovingly, we embraced until we fell asleep.

  Chapter Seven - Shae

  Time is an imprecise thing. Physicists and philosophers have been working on the time question for centuries and have still barely started to understand it. It seemed unlikely then that any one of them could explain to me how three weeks, nearly a month, could go by so damn fast.

  Once out meet-cute was set, Chris and I kept dating, and fucking, casually for the next three weeks until the reunion. Each passing day seemed like another tick of the Doomsday Clock. Not only because I was basically marking time before I had to see Ellis again, something I swore I would never do, but also because I had no idea what would happen with Chris when it was over. Would we stay together? Or get more serious? Break apart entirely?

  One thing I did know was that it was starting to feel a lot more than casual. I couldn't stop thinking about the fictional life we had built together, particularly the house and the kids, and it seemed more like a possibility. I only wished we were on the same page in terms of our relationship and not in what seemed like a Friends-With-Benefits situation. It just felt like we were so in tune. I was happy where we were but saw the potential for so much more.

  Change came on quick, as was often the case, and unexpectedly. I just thanked my lucky stars that my bedroom had an on-suite. I doubted I would have made it down the hall if push came to shove, which it just had. Last night's midnight snack was liberating itself from me. I was ridiculously hungry recently.

  Jeepers showed his support by meowing as loud as he could and scratching at my leg through my sweatpants while I was doubled over. It was the third time that week. I would have loved to pretend that I didn't know what was happening, but I had been a nurse too long to not recognize the signs. My mind spun, trying to figure out how it had happened. Chris and I hadn't really used condoms, but we had also been pretty careful. Except when I had been on top and hadn't been able to get off him in time. That would be it. He had cum in me.

  Hauling myself up from the cold porcelain, I shambled into the bedroom and tried to make myself look halfway presentable to polite society. I had the day off from the hospital, a rare mercy indeed, and there just happened to be a big box drug store on my block. I knew better than to trust any single commercial pregnancy test entirely, so I got four from different brands, the consensus being the final proof. I got a bit of a sideways look from the clerk, but he held his tongue, leaving the jokes no doubt rioting in his head unspoken.

  I stared at the positive results, my mind reeling with what to do. Should I tell Chris? Would he be happy, or would it scare him away entirely? He had been the one who brought up baby names, seeming to have given it some thought. Though that could have just been him getting into the act. He was nothing if not organized. I wanted to tell him but didn't want to risk losing him and decided to keep it quiet for the moment.

  Chris was early to the coffee shop, coming as a surprise to no one. Already sitting with a large hot chocolate, going over a binder of art drafts because, of course he was.

  “Hey,” I said, sitting down across from him.

  “Hey,” he replied, leaning in to kiss me, putting the binder safely away first.

  “What did you want to see me about?”

  “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?”

  Conjuring an elegant, ivory-colored envelope, seemingly out of nowhere, he handed it to me, his face unreadable.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  I did as instructed, carefully slitting the side of the envelope with one of the two knives already set on the table, not wanting to completely destroy something so beautiful and pulled out two opera tickets.

  “H-how?”

  “My mother is the lead, she gets them for free,” Chris said casually.

  I admired his modesty. If my mother was a headlining opera star, it would likely be one of the first things I would say when meeting someone new. I knew a bit about his family, mostly how he didn't connect to them, but this had been the first time he'd mentioned that his mother was an opera singer. I couldn't help but wonder what his dad did. It would be pretty funny if he was a conductor or something.

  I'd never been to an opera before, let alone in an opera box. When we went later that day, Chris even rented those little opera glasses and dammit if I didn't feel like a princess! I had thought I had left such notions long behind me, but apparently, it took someone like Chris to remind me of it.

  The performance was gorgeous and moved me in ways I didn't think possible. Since the divorce, I hadn't really had time to indulge myself. I was mostly just trying to keep my head above water. It was a bold move, but I reached over and squeezed his hand. An act of intimacy to be sure but one that felt right, and he didn't seem to mind, gently squeezing back.

  The intermission came, and we went down to the lobby for over-priced food and drink, Chris paying for everything I wanted. I was a bit embarrassed to be treated like that, but he pretty much insisted.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It was amazing!” I enthused mouth full of fancy canape.

  “I'm glad you like it,” Chris asked, seeming embarrassed.

  “You don't?”

  “Sure, I do. It is excellent. I just don't seem to feel the same soul-shaking reverence that most people seem to.” He grimaced. It was like he was bracing for impact like he expected me to mock him for not getting into the show or try to educate him on the wonders of music. Something I was pretty sure he would have heard a lot from his family.

  “It's okay, people react differently to different things,” I said, gently squeezing his am.

  “Don't I know it. My parents are music people, then again they had my brother to dote on, look at him now, one of the main vocalists in Dante Street Massacre,” he said, looking at the floor.

  “Chase Stewart is your brother?” I asked, shocked.

  “Yeah, ain't that a kick in the head? He's younger than me too.”

  He didn't come right out and say it, but I could read between the lines. It might be an exaggeration to say that Chris had been neglected as a child, but he certainly seemed to be isolated. Especially when his brother came along. I could imagine how hard it would be growi
ng up in a family where I had nothing in common with my relatives.

  “I prefer art too,” I said with a wink.

  That at least got a smile out of him, which was really lovely to see. I had really come to care about Chris and didn’t like the idea of him feeling bad, particularly for something over which he had no control.

  The opera ended about as expected, the experimental director throwing in a few twists, and we gather our coats to move to the exits.

  “Want to meet her?” Chris asked.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  It had come out of nowhere and was yet another mixed message. Did he just think I would be interested and was trying to be nice, or did he want me to meet his mother in a more serious, blessing-for-the-wedding way? It could be either really.

  “Sure.”

  Backstage at the opera house was almost as lovely as the main part — all plush carpeting and gold embellishment. An extravagance which extended to Chris’s mom's dressing room, in particular the food table which actually had a white tablecloth on it. I tried to keep my mouth from gaping.

  Unlike most performers, Chris's mom, Gwen, was as glamourous out of her makeup and costume as she was with them. She was lounging on a Victorian fainting couch that looked like it had been looted from Buckingham Palace when we came in.

  “Darling!” Gwen declaimed, replacing the bunch of grapes she was eating to the bowl.

  “Hey, mom.”

  “And who is this pretty young thing?”

  I had never heard such flattering words said in such a flat tone.

  “Mom, meet Shae Garrison, my new fiancée.”

  Gwen gasped at the same time I did, though with a slightly different emphasis. Mine being a gasp of shock, hers one of unbridled delight.

  “You don't say,” she said, looking me up and down, pausing a bit too long on my tits, which were put on quite a display in the dress Chris had bought me.

  I felt like a bug being scrutinized. Worse I had no idea if she approved of me or not. I tried to tell myself that I didn't care if she approved or not, but honestly, I did. She seemed like the sort that could make my life miserable if I crossed her.

  “I was just going out of a late supper if you would like to join,” Gwen offered.

  Chris didn't object, and neither did I, even though he had given me an out. In truth, I was curious to meet his parents, who would be our baby's grandparents, though I also braced myself to dislike them for what they had done to Chris.

  I could hear the violin music as soon as we were through the door. I shouldn't have been surprised, really. Of course, Gwen would be going to that kind fancy of place. We didn't have to wait for a table. As soon as we were through the door, we were being led to one of the best tables in the restaurants. I couldn't help but be impressed by her clout.

  “Scott will be joining us later,” Gwen said as we were seated.

  “That's my dad,” Chris explained helpfully.

  “Is Chase coming too?”

  “Oh, no, he's in Sweden right now recording the new album,” Gwen said, gushing with pride.

  I was surprised and impressed that a woman who struck me as a dyed in the wool opera diva would be proud of her son being in a metal band. Though, to be fair, Dante Street Massacre was symphonic metal with a strong vocal element and was coming to be world-famous.

  “Let's just hope it lasts,” Chris said.

  “Now, now,” Gwen said.

  “How many members have they gone through in ten years?” Chris asked.

  “Okay, fair point,” Gwen conceded.

  I hadn't expected her to back down so easily. For some reason, I had assumed she would be a hard ass, but that didn't seem to be the case.

  “Sorry I'm late,” said an eccentrically dressed gent as he took up the third of the four chairs at the table.

  “We're used to it now, dear,” Gwen said kindly, patting his hand.

  “And who is this?” the newcomer asked.

  “Dad, this is Shae, my fiancée.”

  “When did this happen?” Chris's dad asked delightedly.

  “About three weeks ago,” I said, playing along with the lie.

  “Congratulations!”

  I was so ready to hate Chris's parents for what I assumed they had done to him, giving him a terrible childhood, but I was starting to think I was wrong. His parents were delightful and warm. They asked about his work and mine, no detail was too small to capture their interest. Both seemed delighted that I was a nurse. They wanted to know about our wedding plans, which was unfortunately something Chris and I hadn’t discussed. All in all, the evening was like a dress rehearsal for my family reunion.

  After dinner, we said our goodbyes and got back into Chris's car. Chris holding the door open for me like he always did, the gentleman that he was.

  “Well, that went better than I expected,” Chris said as we pulled onto the road.

  “How is that?”

  “I thought they might be angry about us not telling them about the engagement. I mean, I never really fit in with them, but they are still interested in my life.”

  “I really liked them,” I said, surprising even myself.

  “That surprises you?”

  “Well, I was ready to dislike them for cutting you out and all that.”

  “They never cut me out. They don't understand my love of art and advertising any more than I understand music, but I know they love me and have always supported me.” He patted my knee. “You ready for the weekend?”

  “Maybe,” I said. Now that I knew I was pregnant, I honestly didn't know. “Want to go back to my place?”

  Chapter Eight - Chris

  It was a relief that dinner with my parents had gone so well. Though it wouldn't have stopped me, I still wanted my family to approve of my relationship — fake as it might have turned out to be. Though it didn't feel fake.

  The stuff about being engaged and buying a house wasn't real, but it wasn't like we had no relationship. At the very least, we were friends, and there was no denying our sexual compatibility. Knowing that my parents liked Shae and she liked them, even considering the somewhat odd situation, was a weight off my shoulders.

  I was feeling pretty good when we got ready to drive up to Virginia for the reunion. We figured my car was the most reliable, and we could take the driving in shifts. We were both used to swing shifts, so a 34-hour drive was nothing to us. It would take a lot of games of eye-spy, but I was sure we could get through it. What I hadn't planned on was the number of bathroom breaks Shae needed. I figured it was just nerves about seeing her family and her ex again.

  The closer we got to Virginia, the quieter and moodier she got. We were near Jackson when it finally came out.

  “I can’t believe mom would do this to me! What kind of maniac invites an ex to a reunion. Don't answer that.”

  “Wasn't going to say a word.”

  “She booby-trapped a reunion!”

  “Indeed,” I said, remaining calm.

  “It's probably all just a farce anyway. She really doesn't give a shit about Dixie coming back from Europe and is just trying to get Ellis and me back together. She has some bullshit, old-fashioned idea that marriage is supposed to be forever. Apparently, she threw a fit when the no-fault divorce law came through. Said it was an affront to God!”

  “Wow.”

  “That's the level of crazy we're dealing with here, babe.”

  “Babe?”

  “Sorry, slip of the tongue.”

  “No, it's good. Keep it up. Adds to the authenticity. What's my nickname for you?”

  “I've always liked sugar plum,” Shae said, blushing.

  “We’ll get through this, sugar plum,” I said, putting my hand on her thigh.

  “Almost feels real,” she said.

  “It is,” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “I love you, Shae. For real. I don't know if you feel the same but-”

  She grinned from ear to ear and slapped me on
the knee. “Of course I do you dope!”

  “Y-you do?”

  “I was trying to keep my distance because I thought you just wanted a FWB arrangement.”

  “I thought that was what you wanted. You know, because of your history. I didn't want to take advantage of your rebound.”

  “We really are a pair, aren't we?” Shae smirked.

  “Indeed.”

  “So, where would you like this to go?”

  “House, marriage, kids. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “Me too,” Shae confessed, blushing.

  We arrived at the Garrison family lake house an hour later. I took a deep, cleansing breath bracing myself for what horrors might await us. Shae put her hand on my chest like she had that night at the hospital, and I immediately calmed down. Taking her hand gently in mine, we kissed tenderly, knowing that we could face anything if we were together.

  There were several members of the Garrison clan milling about the impressively large yard. I recognized Diane immediately. She looked like an older, plumper, more pious version of Shae. Besides which she was coming right at us like a rampaging rhino, a younger guy, handsome, smug, and well-tailored, who I assumed to be Ellis by her side.

  I could almost feel Shae tense beside me. Acting half on instinct and half on impulse, I put my arm around Shae's waist and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. I could almost hear the screeching sound as Diane and Ellis skidded to a halt. Diane was clearly trying to ignore it, scrambling to save face. Ellis was more open about his display of disgust, which made me want to smile.

  Newly energized, Shae went marching after her mother, no longer concerned about the possibility of causing a scene.

  “What the hell were you thinking inviting Ellis to a family reunion?” Shae demanded.