by Max Monroe
A giggle jumps from her lips. “I know not of these gases of which you speak.”
“Sure, sure. You are a gasless being. Got it.”
“Whatever,” she says with the cutest roll of her eyes. “And do you know what I want to know? Since you’re an expert on the human body.”
I chuckle. “Man, this could go so many ways. Is it a question about your body? Because I’d really love to answer a question about it, but I’m going to need to do a little review, probably something that would require hours and hours’ worth of studying every blessed, beautiful inch, if I’m going to ace the quiz.”
She snorts. “No. It’s about…well, kind of the baby’s body, kind of just bodies in general.” She sinks her head into her hands and groans. “You know what, never mind.”
“No, no. Go on,” I push. “Now you have me intrigued, and you can’t leave me hanging.”
“Okay, so boys are born with penises, right?”
“Is this you agreeing that you also think our baby is a boy?”
She sighs. “Just answer the question.”
I grin. “Yes, that’s usually what happens. Boys are born with penises,” I confirm, trying really hard not to laugh.
“Well, it’s little, obviously, and then as you grow, it gets bigger.” I raise my eyebrows, and she squeaks. “Shut up!”
“I didn’t say anything,” I contest, pulling my fingers across my lips like a zipper.
“Well, I just want to know…like, when would someone with a below average penis start to notice that it’s below average? What about above? Like, is there some kind of marker in time where you start to wonder if it’s growing proportionately?”
“Me, personally?” I say. “Not really. But I can’t speak for the entire population.”
“I feel like you have to wonder!”
I shake my head as I search for an analogy she’ll understand. “It’s kind of like getting a puppy when you’re a kid. You grow, but the dog grows at the same time, and you never really think about if the dog is smaller or bigger than other dogs. He’s just your dog, and you’re used to him in every size.”
“Oh my God!” she shrieks, unable to control her laughter.
I watch, enraptured, as her whole face lights up and sucks me in. She’s so fucking gorgeous.
There’s absolutely no stopping me.
Two hands at once, I reach out and pull her face toward mine, sealing our lips together while she’s still in the middle of a laugh. Her open mouth provides opportunity for my tongue, but it’s the feel of her laughter as it slides down my throat that really does me in.
Shifting to my knees, I slide my hands down the column of her neck, along the length of her arms, and over the curves of her sides until they settle on her hips.
With child or not, she still weighs next to nothing as I lift her up and carry her from our spot on the floor over to my deep-seated couch. I climb in over her, keeping our lips together and tasting every piece of her mouth I can find.
She tastes like sweet strawberries and chocolate, and seeing as we haven’t eaten any, it’s the biggest mystery of my life. One I’d happily die trying to solve.
I’m determined to take my time—to take the time we didn’t take before we had sex the first time.
Tonight, I’m going to take every moment I have, learning the art of kissing her. When we have sex the next time, I’m going to make sure I know her so damn well, it’ll be the best sex anyone’s ever had and then some. I only have one time to beat for her, but I swear to God, I’m going to make sure, if she stays with me, not sampling her possible other options will be more than worth it.
I want to be the only damn item on the menu at Rocky’s buffet of hot sex and orgasms.
The very early and sex-y morning of August 16th, 3:15 a.m.
Harrison
I could eat out at this restaurant for the rest of my life.
She’s sweet, spicy, and a whole lot erotic, and I’ve never been as turned on by a woman as I am by Rocky right now. Her thighs wrap around my shoulders tightly, trapping my face against her pussy as her back bows off the bed.
She’s enjoying herself, greatly, and the fact that she’s allowed me the gift of this little inhibition makes my chest feel warm and cozy.
I swirl my tongue over her clit and suck just as her whole body tightens, seconds away from orgasm, and then lets go, flooding my mouth and my emotions as she shatters over the edge of her climax.
I lap slowly, bringing her down from the brink with a gentle touch and a racing heart.
I’m so hard, I could chop wood with my dick, but I wait for her to come back to herself before taking her without warning. Instead, I move gently to the side of the bed, to my nightstand drawer where I keep the condoms. I pull it open and thumb through the sparse items, only to find I’ve yet to replace the box since I ended my last fling.
Fuck.
I crawl back onto the bed and cradle Rocky’s body in mine as gently as possible, burying my head in her hair.
“Harrison?” she questions. “What are you doing?”
I sigh heavily. “I don’t have any condoms.”
She worries her lip as she turns to face me. “In the whole place?”
I can’t help but laugh. “No condoms. In the whole place.”
“But it’s, like, at least 3,000 square feet. Maybe you should check some other rooms.”
“I like your spirit,” I respond with a mix of a chuckle and a groan. “But I only keep them in that drawer. No squirrel stashes all over the house.”
“Would it make a difference to you if I said I’m on birth control? I mean, I’m completely clean. Like, completely clean. Basically whistle-worthy clean, that’s me.”
For the first time since I found the drawer empty, hope shines on my dick like a beacon. He perks up again, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Yes. I mean, I’m clean too, haven’t even been with anyone for a while, but I would completely understand if you weren’t comfortable moving forward.”
She crinkles her nose. “I’m confused. Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a yes,” I say with a laugh. “With a couple of contingencies added on for your benefit.”
“I want you,” she whispers.
Holy fuck. Yes. My dick is running out of the locker room, already suited up and ready to charge the fucking field.
“I want you too, Rock,” I whisper back and shut my eyes briefly, desperately trying to get my bearings before I move this forward too fast. “God, you have no idea how much I want.” I open my eyes again and lock them with hers. “But I need you to be explicit. Are you saying you’re okay with this?”
“Yes.”
From the dumps of complete despair to the top of Triumph Hill, I have to stop myself from pumping my fist in the air. Thank God for birth control and the modern woman.
Determined to be patient despite my inner celebration, I move away from Rocky’s back enough to roll her over onto it and line the length of her body with my own. Her perfect breasts stand at attention, and I pay them the respect they deserve. First with my fingers, and then with my mouth, closing over the nipple of each one with a warm, wet seal.
She moans into the room, her hair fanning perfectly across the top of my pillow as her head rolls back with pleasure.
I move my weight on top of her, holding up the majority of it with my hands on the bed at her sides, and settle my hips between the magnificent apex of hers.
Her bare pussy glistens in the low light of my bedside lamp, and I can’t help myself as I rub the skin of my dick across it.
Jesus.
This woman may very well be the hottest woman I have ever laid eyes on in my life. Not just in adulthood or my flings, but also in my adolescent fantasies and in the bulk of my wet dreams.
She is the epitome of everything I only imagined existed, and in an ironic twist, I’ve known her nearly all of my life.
She tosses her head back again, exposing her neck as I settle my cock into plac
e and start to push forward, but I force her chin to tip back down with a gentle nudge of my finger and meet her violet eyes with my own.
“God, Rock.”
She moans, and tempted beyond my resolve to hold her eyes, I lean down to take her lips in a long, slow kiss.
Easy at first and all at once at the end, her lips part under mine and allow my tongue entrance into her mouth. It tastes sweet like the chocolate mint candy from the bar we ate just before making our run from it, and goddamn, it is the perfect dessert to go with the taste of her that still lingers on my lips.
Steady but paced, I push my cock into the warm, tight heaven of her pussy. Its grip is unbelievable as I push inside, but I can feel the second she releases the tension in her muscles and lets me settle inside.
And we fit. God, do we fit.
Like a puzzle finally solved, my dick has never found a more perfect home.
Rocky’s pussy is a rent-controlled three-bedroom penthouse with good light and a doorman on the Upper East Side, and I can’t believe I’m getting the chance to live in it, even for a night.
I start a rhythm with my hips, in and out and back in again with a pause. She grabs my face and pulls my lips back to hers, and I’m all too happy to comply. In fact, if I have any complaint at all, it’s that it feels nearly impossible to pull back out after I’ve thrust in. Our connection feels that powerful.
I watch closely as her eyes fall closed, and her mouth opens again with an impending climax. I know the look well—I just watched it happen a few minutes ago.
She is fucking gorgeous.
Her pleasure confirmed and satisfied, I concentrate on my own, letting myself feel the warmth of her flesh and the shape of her breasts beneath me. I bend down to take a nipple in my mouth as she wraps her legs around my back and grabs on to my ass with both hands.
All at once, my orgasm overwhelms me, shooting from my spine and spiraling in all directions.
I’m briefly blind to the world around me as sheer bliss settles over me and steals my breath.
If she lived on this side of the country, I’d very well be racking my brain, trying to come up with a way to ensure this isn’t the only time we’re together.
In fact, I’d be looking for a way to keep her around for a long, long, long while.
Harrison
There is nothing more unpredictable than a pregnant woman’s cravings. And I’m finding, when it comes to Rocky, those cravings can change by the damn second.
A commercial about Reese’s Cups on TV.
A billboard on the street for a burger joint.
A weird dream about swimming in a pool of hot chocolate.
You name it, and it’s a catalyst for the unexpected.
Though, if I’m being honest, I kind of love it. And I certainly love being the one who helps her track down whatever her ever-growing belly desires. Take right now, for instance. I’m on a lunch break from work and heading back to Rocky’s trailer on the set of Highlander after obtaining a cup of hot chocolate from one of the caterers.
God, it’s hard to believe it’s already been over a month since Rocky and I screamed—literally—our way into this new phase of our relationship.
We kiss and touch and talk and spend as much time together as possible with our schedules, and when her team isn’t around, I can almost pretend we have a regular relationship. Just an everyday, American couple. That’s mostly contained indoors and avoids public places, mind you. But despite those minor details, it all feels normal. Good. Fucking amazing.
And when her staff is around, we tone it down in the name of keeping at least some tiny semblance of peace.
Truthfully, there’s a part of me that would love to throw it right in Heidi’s face, but I can’t complain, really. All in all, Rocky’s completely changed the way she sees herself and the team around her. I don’t know if I put the fight in her or if the hormones and the baby did, but she, quite frankly, has flipped her switch from amenable to entirely hard to handle.
It’s been fucking incredible to watch.
And as I open the door to her trailer and step inside, I find her bearing her newfound claws to everyone around her.
“God, no,” she states on a sigh. “I refuse to wear anything that makes me feel like I’ve been stuffed into the casing they use for sausages. Do you want me to look like a sausage, for shit’s sake? I don’t think so. They’re tasty as hell, but not exactly the statement I’m going for in fashion.”
I look down at the cups I’m carrying to camouflage my smile as Rocky keeps going on her short-term rampage.
“Give me something with spandex or stretch or, hell, a flowy top, for God’s sake,” she demands. “No skirts with the word mini or leather or tight or anything other than knit-stretch as their adjective. I just want to beach myself like a whale and be done with it. Honestly. Maybe we should just cancel shooting today if I can’t go in my sweatpants? Aren’t sweatpants in fashion now? I swear I’ve seen the Kardashians wearing chunky sneakers, sweatshirts, and bicycle shorts everywhere they go. If they can do it, why not me?”
Heidi heaves a deep, heavy, exasperated sigh. “Raquel, this is a costume. For your show. You can’t wear sweatpants and sneakers because the wardrobe for Highlander is eighteenth-century baroque.”
“Maybe, just this one episode, we could talk to the writers about adding a time travel sequence to say, now-ish,” Rocky offers. “It could be a commentary on the minute differences between old world—”
“No,” Heidi cuts her off. “Absolutely not happening.”
I have to cover my nose to hold in a snort.
“Come onnnn,” Rocky says on a groan. “You can’t tell me that pregnant bitches back then didn’t find some way to be comfortable. A sheet as a nightdress. Something. There’s no way they walked around squeezing their pregnant baby bellies into corsets.”
“Raquel, be reasonable.”
“I am being reasonable!” Rocky tosses her hands up into the air. “You’re the one not being reasonable. There have to be some sort of labor laws against this kind of thing at this stage of pregnancy. There’s no way this is legal.”
“Raquel, you signed a contract. Unless the baby is physically leaving your body right now—”
“It is, it is,” she lies. “Oh no. Ow. I think I feel the head.”
Finally, unable to maintain my composure anymore, I let go of my laugh. Heidi eyes me with contempt and possible thoughts of murder, but Rocky’s face softens at the sound.
It’s that second reaction that really hits me straight in the chest in the best kind of way.
“How about this?” I say, trying to be the voice of compromise as I hand her the requested hot chocolate. Her eyes instantly light up like a kid on Christmas morning at the sight of it, but I force myself to continue my train of thought. “You put on your sweats—the comfiest ones you own—and you wear them right up until the moment you’re needed on set. You get your makeup done in them, maybe even take a little nap…and then right before they need you, we get you changed into costume so you can do the scene. And you go and do it spectacularly—I know you’re capable of one take. In fact, if you succeed, I’ll buy you anything you want for dinner and have it delivered to the apartment—even if they don’t deliver. And then, when shooting is over for the day, you come right back to the trailer and put on your sweats again. Easy as can be.”
Rocky taps her chin, thinking it over. “You know, I do like the sound of food.”
I nod enthusiastically.
“Okay. Fine,” she eventually answers. “I’ll wear the goddamn dress for the scene.”
“Great,” I encourage, winking at Heidi in a way that really pisses her off.
Which, obviously, makes me smile.
I’m getting more and more comfortable here by the day; Heidi’s feelings, I fear, are growing exponentially toward the opposite.
Too bad for her, though, because she’s going to have to learn to deal with it.
As long as Rocky want
s me, I’m here to stay.
Harrison
I never thought I’d see the light at the hands of the mother of my child, but I also never thought Caplin Hawkins would force us to start a fucking book club that led to him falling in love.
Today has been a busy day for both Rocky and me. After hours’ worth of work meetings and filming on set all day, we spent the better part of our evening together, eating Chinese takeout and group crib building—I did the building and she did the watching.
But somehow, after the food was consumed and the crib was fully built, the night took a strange and dangerous turn that’s all thanks to Amazon same-day delivery and a bet.
That is to say, strange for her, dangerous for me.
The machine we bought in an effort to simulate the feelings of labor and childbirth for me buzzes, and the electrodes on my stomach contract my muscles into tight balls.
My heart races, and her laughter bounces off every wall in my apartment like a metaphorical pinball. Which makes sense. With me on the bed with my knees in the air and Rocky next to me coaching me on the timing of my breathing, we’re most definitely characters in the Twilight Zone game.
The music in my head shifts, turning dark as my pain ratchets up to a whole new level. It’s as if the longer it lasts, the more my body rejects the idea that all will be well soon. “Oh hellll, what the fuck is happening?” I shout. “I swear, my organs are pulsing.”
Rocky laughs and turns the dial up a little higher. No mess, no gain apparently. No fucking mercy. Jesus Christ, I’m co-parenting with a masochist.
“Jee-sus. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, trying like hell to breathe through the pain. “Like way, way too much. Why are you enjoying this so much?”
“It’s the only thing I have to hold on to,” she says through an evil little giggle. “When you’re coaching me through labor, telling me to breathe a little deeper to make the pain go away, I’ll be able to remember this and throw it appropriately in your face.”
I chuckle and groan harshly through the agony. “I won’t downplay your pain like that. I’m not an animal like you.”