by Max Monroe
Rocky laughs harder and shrugs, turning up the dial yet again. Apparently, calling her out on her evils only pushes her further into bed with the devil.
“Oh, look at that,” she says, looking at the screen with eyes that are far too amused for this current situation. “You’re entering transition. This is known as the most painful part of labor.”
“For good reason,” I groan with a wheeze. “Holy hell, I feel like a sheath for a samurai sword. And my samurai can’t fucking decide whether he wants to use it or not. In, out, in, out. Lots of twisting.”
“What’s that?” she asks, putting a dramatic hand to her ear. “Is that the sound of you begging for the drugs?”
“Yes!” I yell, my stomach gripping with a spasm so tight I almost faint. “Good Lord, I’ll take anything. Meth, pixie dust, whatever the kids are doing these days, just give it to me!”
“I sure as hell hope the kids aren’t doing meth. Jesus, parenting is going to be harder than I thought,” Rocky muses, and as much as I’d like to concentrate on how cute and funny she is, she’s completely forgotten that I’m dying and she’s the one killing me.
“Rock—”
“I mean, a little bit of weed I guess I can see. Everyone experiments, and it’s being legalized more and more, but coke and heroin and—”
“Rocky!” I groan.
“I mean, when I was a kid, I was around a lot of shit. I grew up in Hollywood, for God’s sake. But meth? Why are children doing this to themselves?
“Rocky! Rocky! The dial…please…”
“Oh,” she says, seemingly surprised that I’m even here. “Right. I forgot to turn it up the rest of the way.”
“What?” I squawk as she turns the knob all the way up to a ten. “Down, down, down!” I yell like a weakling. “Not up!”
She panics then as she sees the true hysteria in my eyes and grasps wildly at the dial without decreasing my pain in any way.
My throat closes up as my stomach twists into a knot and punches me directly in the groin. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, and I start to see flashes of my life before my eyes.
This is it. This is how I end. Not with the birth of my child or in something cool like a skydiving accident, but in the bedroom of my apartment with electrodes taped to my stomach.
When she finally gets the dial turned all the way down and I sag in relief at the respite, she jumps up onto my side of the bed and starts running her hands along every inch of my abdomen. “Are you okay? Oh my God, did I really hurt you? Where’s the most pain?” she shrieks wildly.
My panting is real as I recover from my bout with the satanic machine, but now that it’s turned off, the relief is oddly complete. Like, instantly gone. Just like that.
Thank fuck.
Still, I can’t help but use this moment to my advantage. It’s been nearly two months of torture since we broke the barrier to physical contact again, and though it’s been beyond worth it to take my time, I’m at almost the end of my rope made of self-control.
I want her so badly I’ve started to hallucinate about her naked body around every corner I turn.
She pats and tends to the top of my stomach, so I put a little extra oomph into my groan as I guide her mischievously. “Lower.”
“Lower?” she questions. “Like, here? Or even more?”
“More,” I say, pulling my legs up toward my body to sell it some more.
“Here?” she asks with concern, and I really work up a performance based on all the experience I’ve gotten from watching her. I can’t say I’m a SAG Award winner like her, but I’m basically the guy who’s been to a class or two at the YMCA. I’m like a professional extra.
“Lower.”
Her hand finally makes contact with my hard cock, and I change my voice from pained to seductive with the flip of a switch. “Yep, that’s it. Right there.” She jumps and shrieks, pulling back like she’s been burned, and I can’t help but laugh. The fact that she actually grabbed my dick like I was somehow cramped up down there from the electrodes we placed nearly a foot higher just shows the merits of my performance.
Who knows, maybe I’m going to star in some kind of high school musical next?
She rears back and punches me in the shoulder. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you had me believing you were hurting while you really have a raging boner!”
I sit up and grab her wrists, pulling her forward gently so that the front of her body falls on the side of mine again. “Oh, believe me, I am hurting, Rock. I fucking ache for you,” I say sincerely, leaning in to kiss her neck right below the shell of her ear.
“You want me?” she asks, as if it’s somehow a revelation.
I shake my head disbelievingly. I’m in fucking shock over her surprise. “Uh, yeah, baby. What the hell do you think makes me kiss and touch you so much?”
“But you haven’t tried to have sex…like, at all.” She shrugs and runs a hand down the front of her body like it’s a letter square and she’s Vanna White. “I thought maybe the whole pregnant belly thing was a turn-off.”
Oh Jesus. I never for a second thought my painstaking efforts to take my time with her would give her the impression that she was anything but the sexiest woman on the planet. I feel guilty—tortured, frankly—that she would think any-damn-thing about her was anything but perfect.
“Are you kidding, Rocky?”
She shakes her head with a blush.
Scooting her closer, I lower my voice and lean my forehead to hers. God. I had no idea this was all running through her head.
Leaning back, I look her directly in the eye and speak with unquestionable specificity. On this point, I need to make sure she understands.
“I was just trying to give you time, baby. Work our way into everything slowly…you know, exactly what we didn’t do in the first place. I have to stroke my own cock every night before I slide into bed because I ache so bad for you. You’re hands down the most erotic woman I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire life. Carrying my baby?” I laugh sardonically. “It’s a miracle I don’t follow you around beating on my goddamn chest all day.”
“Really?” she asks, the entire language of her body changing in an instant.
“Christ,” I bark before slamming my lips to hers. Talking is great, and I’ll be glad to do it all night long if she wants—but only after I prove how fucking sexy she is, inch by motherfucking inch. Giving her the space to doubt herself has gone on more than long enough.
Swiftly but gently, I grab the hem of her tank and pull it up and over her head, and then handle the same hasty disappearance of her shorts not too long after. She helps me, thankfully, stepping out of them as they hit the floor and staying standing long enough for me to do the same with her black lace panties.
They skate down the skin of her tanned legs and hit the floor, I know from common sense, but I sure as shit don’t watch them go. I’m far too occupied with the perfect pussy they left behind. But I really need a closer look.
“Climb up,” I prompt softly, grabbing her hands to help her as I pull her up above me, onto my chest, and help her knees into the bed on either side of me. She looks down shyly, clearly unsure of herself in our newly beyond intimate position, but I don’t give the doubt any time to build. Instead, I guide her hips with the gentle pull of my hands and place one seductive lick straight through the center of heaven.
“Mmm,” I moan, watching as her purple-blue eyes dilate dramatically. “You taste even better than I fucking remembered. And, Rock, I remembered you as the best goddamn thing I’ve ever tasted.”
She pushes her hips forward toward my mouth, craving more. I’m not playing any games tonight. I give it to her.
Slow, languid licks to cover every inch of her pussy and then a pulsing rhythm on her clit, I work hard until the taste of her pleasure makes its way into my mouth. She moans, bracing her hands on the top of the gray padded headboard and letting her head fall back until the tips of her long hair dance on the tops of my thighs.
&
nbsp; Goddamn, if I’d only had the forethought to take off my own clothes before I started, I’d be ready to fuck my way through a concrete wall.
As it is, my hard cock begs to escape from the confines of my jeans.
Rocky’s belly only adds to her appeal as I lick my lips and lean back to get a look at my woman in all her glory. Heavy, perfect peaked tits, the sweetest round creation we made together, and soft, tanned skin—it’s almost more than my brain can comprehend.
And if it can even be believed, it’s more than that—more than the sexiest woman according to millions of people in the world. It’s the girl I’ve known since almost the beginning of our lives. The sweet innocence in her eyes and good soul they’re windows to.
Rocky Weaver is the one and only Rocky Weaver—and I’m certain I could never have been happy with anyone else.
I swirl my tongue and skate my fingers from her thighs to her stomach, all the way up to take the weight of her heavy, swollen breasts gently in my hands. I don’t go rough—I know they’re sensitive right now.
She moans, her mouth opening in the most exquisite showing, and when I return my mouth to her pussy and suck, she falls over the edge into the abyss of pleasure.
Sweet Jesus, watching her come should be the eighth wonder of the fucking world.
I cradle her weight, shuffling her from her knees on top of me to her side in the bed. I know she’s not supposed to lie flat on her back right now, so I take my time making sure she’s in the most comfortable position possible and her back is fully supported before standing at the side of the bed to take off my clothes. She watches avidly, recovery from the misty haze of her orgasm finally allowing her eyes to open and her concentration to return.
With a hand between my shoulder blades, I reach back and pull my T-shirt over my head and toss it to the side, and then I slide my jeans and boxer briefs down my legs to the floor.
Something about watching them mingle on the floor with the clothes she already took off makes my chest warm.
I climb on to my knees on the bed and slide down to my side in front of Rocky. One rogue strand of her hair falls in front of her face, so I reach out to tuck it behind her ear.
“You okay?” I ask.
She laughs a little. “Better than okay.”
My smile is bright and bold. “I’m glad the orgasm was good for you, baby. But I meant your position now. Nothing hurts?”
She laughs again, this time longer and with a shake of her head. “You know, there once was a time when lying on a bed wasn’t an actual sport for me.”
I bite my lip as I reach out to touch her stomach, resting my hand on the powerful swell of the baby as gently as I can. “You’re growing a baby. Your body is a fucking miracle.”
Just then, a thump pulses under my hand and explodes my whole world. Moisture in my eyes and the biggest fucking smile I can imagine in place, I look up to Rocky in wonder.
“I feel it. Oh my God, Rock. I feel it.”
A hand flies to her mouth as she apologizes. “I’m so sorry, Harrison. I can’t believe I never thought to ask you if you wanted to feel before now.”
An apology is the last thing I was after. “I’m not, baby. This is perfect. This whole night. You, this.” I shake my head. “You’re all better than I could have imagined.”
Rocky grabs my face in her hands and pulls our lips together, and I have no trouble taking it from there. Tongues dancing in unison, we work together to shift our bodies closer, and I pull Rocky’s tanned, slender leg over the top of my hip.
She breaks our mouths apart as I rub the tip of my cock through the evidence of her first orgasm and tuck it into the center of her pussy.
“God,” she moans slowly. “We look…”
“We look perfect together,” I finish for her, sliding an inch inside and then another.
She drops her head back, exposing her neck, and I take the opportunity to lean forward and taste the perfect skin of her throat.
She’s tight and warm and so fucking flawless it hurts.
And this time, ironically, we don’t even have to fucking think about a condom.
In slowly until I’m seated fully inside, I stroke my cock between her legs and suck on any skin I can get underneath my lips. She claws at my shoulders, trying to get closer, and I understand the feeling.
We’re as close as physically, humanly possible, and yet, somehow, I can only wish for more—for the ability to climb inside her entirely.
Taking her jaw in my hands again, I seal our mouths and our bodies and make a vow to myself to spend the rest of the night doing this for as long as our stamina will allow.
Raquel
Last night was so perfect it hurts. Every touch, every kiss, it was even better than I remembered it being, and I’ve spent more than a night or two in the last nine or so months worshiping it.
And by God does that make me nervous. Harrison has been my rock through every moment since the day he paid a million fucking dollars to get me alone in that hotel ballroom. He’s blended, he’s supported, he’s stood up for me when I was afraid to stand up from myself, and he’s done it all because he’s intent on being a part of this baby’s life.
Jesus, the man moved here for me. Just packed up his life and came, no questions, no compromises asked, because he wanted to be a man our child could be proud of.
And now, I’ve gone and complicated it by letting my heart get recklessly—perilously—involved. And he doesn’t even freaking know I lied to him about being on birth control, that this whole thing—this pregnancy, this sweet, little baby—has occurred because of that very lie all along.
He’s literally given up everything for me, and I haven’t had the decency of telling him the truth.
My God, just the thought of him finding out, of me actually telling him…it has my heart wanting to dive out of my chest. Simply put, it scares the bejeezus out of me.
What if he decides he doesn’t want to be around someone like me? Someone who would commandeer his whole life without even giving him the decency of being completely honest.
God.
I jump out of bed as panic overwhelms me and head for the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
I’m so stupid. When you find a great guy, you tell him the truth every damn step of the way so you don’t get this deep into all-consuming emotions with a time bomb still ticking in the freaking background! Gah!
I take a deep, deep breath in and then slowly let it out.
I give myself a long, hard look in the mirror and a stern talking-to. “Do not mess this up, Raquel.”
Don’t mess this up? Hell. Do you even know what that means anymore? It’s quite possible you already have messed this up.
Lord Almighty, I do not have time to stand here, staring at myself while I argue with myself. And I certainly do not want to take the risk of reaching the mental breaking point—in my own damn bathroom—that leads to me delivering this baby in a padded room.
Yes, yes, on that, we can agree.
I look at my reflection one last time, shake my head, and focus on the things I can control. Like getting away from this stupid mirror and getting it the hell together.
With a heavy sigh, I open the bathroom door and, carefully so I don’t wake up Harrison, I tiptoe through the bedroom to the door, step out into the hallway, close the door as gently as I can behind me, and make my way down into the living room.
When I arrive, Heidi and Toby look up from their spots on the couch where they’ve apparently been going over the schedule for the day and waiting on me to start my morning.
It’s my own fault for not remembering they’d be here this early, but I really could have used a little decompression time from my mental freak-out—cough near breakdown cough—before facing the wolves, for shit’s sake.
“We have to leave for the set in an hour, Raquel,” Heidi says by way of greeting, and it’s all I can do not to say the foul things I’m muttering under my breath a little bit louder. Instead, I
settle for taciturn confirmation.
“I know.”
“Great. Because we also need to talk about your appearance schedule for next week, your stylist’s picks for your final few appearances before the baby, and the details of your photo and interview spread in the hospital.”
I’m nodding along mindlessly until spread strikes a chord, and my head whips around.
“Huh? What spread?”
She rolls her eyes like I’ve known about it all along, but I know for a fact I would have remembered agreeing to this sort of thing.
I put a defiant hand to my hip. “What spread, Heidi?”
“Of you and the baby. The first introduction to the world piece.”
“No,” I deny absolutely. “I’m not going to do a spread about the baby.”
“It’s in Glam magazine, Raquel. It’s not like they’re going to do anything that isn’t tasteful and classy,” Heidi argues. “Just a few shots of you and the baby in the hospital. It’s a glorified newborn shoot. You’ll get your hair and makeup done and throw on a few matching outfits for some sweet, adorable shots. Regular women are doing the same thing all across the globe.”
I scoff through a laugh. “Yeah. Except those women are doing it for their personal photograph collection. Not so that millions of people they don’t know can stare at their baby and criticize what they look like immediately after giving birth.”
Heidi rolls her eyes. “They send those pictures out all over the place to their families. You think they wouldn’t be thrilled if Glam magazine cared enough to throw a picture of their baby in their nationally circulated publication?” She shakes her head. “Don’t be naïve.”
“I’m not being naïve. I just don’t think I’ll be up for an interview and—”
“What about Princess Kate?” She cuts me off before I can really express how I’m feeling. “She got out there and stood on the steps for the press mere hours after having each baby. In a dress and heels, no less. We won’t even make you wear shoes.”
“Royalty?” I question through a barking laugh. “You’re really comparing me to the standards of royalty now?”