by Jaye Diamond
My cock reddens as I picture Alex’s body changing because she’s carrying my child, and the time for waiting or holding back is truly over. I reach down, wetting my fingers with my own precum before I rub them over Alex’s pussy slit, mixing our sticky arousal together. She whimpers and spreads her legs wider for me, welcoming my fingers with open thighs.
Our eyes lock as I slide two fingers inside of her. Her expression contorts into a look that could come from pain or ecstasy. I suspect it’s a little of both.
“It’s in?” she asks, her big eyes blown wide.
I shake my head, my lips twitching. “Not yet. I’m stretching your pussy with my fingers.”
“...How does it feel?”
“Slick and small. It’s going to be a very tight fit around my cock.”
I slide a third finger in, and the second I feel her adjust to that girth, I pull my fingers out and replace them with the fat head of my cock, pushing it into her opening.
“Ow,” Alex whines, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
I hate hurting her but nothing’s going to stop me from claiming Alex’s cherry. I thrust into her tight heat, breaking right through her innocence, and she throws her head back, crying out in pain.
“Just hold on, baby. It will get better,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “You’re taking me so well. It feels incredible.”
Her cunt squeezes my cock like it never wants to let it go and I’m perfectly fine with that. I can’t get enough of that wet grip, or the way her small tits jiggle as I grind into her pussy.
“You feel good too, even with the pain,” Alex says, wrapping her legs around me, driving me in deeper.
“I can’t wait for my sweet girl to cum on my cock.” I move a little faster, lightly strumming her oversensitive clit. “Are you going to be a good girl and coat my dick with your cream?”
“Yes,” Alex moans, her body tensing up beneath mine. “I want to be your good girl.”
She rocks her hips upward and shouts my name, cumming so good on my cock that her spasms milk the hot cream out of me.
“Fuck, baby, fuck. I’m breeding you,” I moan, pumping hard as I come apart inside my girl.
I’ve marked her pussy forever, and neither one of us will ever be the same.
EPILOGUE
ALEX
“We have to wait,” I insist, refusing to let the doctor touch my exposed belly.
I pulled my shirt up, but nothing else is happening until Marissa’s here.
“She should be here any minute,” Luke says, checking his phone.
Dr. Miller heaves a sigh. “Okay. We can wait for five more minutes, but then we’re having a look. I’ll be right back.”
She says something else under her breath, but I don’t catch it as she walks out.
“She hates us,” I say, frowning.
I don’t love the idea of my firstborn coming into the world with the help of a doctor who can’t stand me.
“No, she hates me,” Luke says. “Because I chewed out her brothers.”
Dr. Miller is one of the OBGYNs at a family practice, where she works with three siblings. All of them are male, and Luke has told them (in no uncertain terms) what he will do to them if they come near my vagina.
“Who hates who?” Marissa asks, poking her head into the doctor’s office.
“You’re here,” I say, so happy I could cry—and I do actually tear up a little.
I get weepy all the time now, ever since pee on a stick confirmed I was pregnant, five months ago.
“Sorry,” Marissa says, as she comes over and takes my hand (the one that Luke isn’t already holding). “Traffic was a nightmare.”
“Alright,” Dr. Miller says, as she slips back into the room. “We’re ready?”
Luke’s grip on my hand tightens. “We’re ready.”
Dr. Miller squirts clear goo onto my baby bump and smears it over my skin with a hand-held Doppler. A grainy black and gray, baby-shaped picture comes up on the ultrasound screen, and sounds that remind me of the ocean crackle through speakers.
“See that?” Dr. Miller asks, pointing to something at the screen that looks like nothing to me. “That little nub means you’re going to have a son, Alex.”
“Oh my gosh!” Marissa squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “A baby brother, Dad!”
Dr. Miller blinks in surprise at her. We’re used to getting that reaction when people realize Marissa isn’t just my best friend—but is also Luke’s daughter.
“Congratulations,” Marissa goes on, and Luke beams.
“Thank you, honey,” he says. Then looks to me, and brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. “You’re making our dreams come true, beautiful.”
“You guys did that for me when you welcomed me into your family. I’m just returning the favor,” I say, and I mean it.
My life has been a dream come true ever since Marissa walked me down the aisle.
My parents didn’t come to my wedding. Luke and I, telling them about us, turned out to be the perfect excuse for them to finally cut me out of their lives completely. They said they were worried about what their friends and the neighborhood would think—that they’d be accused of being shitty parents if they “approved” of me marrying him. Luke told them right to their faces that they had always been shitty parents, then I moved out of their house and never looked back.
“Well, mom,” Dr. Miller says, after collecting herself, “I’m going to print out some pictures, and then you can go celebrate.”
LUKE
Oh yeah, we’re going to celebrate, I think, as we hug my daughter goodbye in the parking lot.
“See you later, step-mama,” Marissa says dryly, as she pulls away and heads for her car. “And you, Dad.”
“Drive safe, honey.”
“You wanted a boy, didn’t you?” Alex says, all sweetness and smiles when I hold open the passenger door of our car for her.
I expected her to be a blubbering mess, but I’m glad she’s not. When her hormones overwhelm her with emotion, I can’t focus on anything other than comforting her until her face is bright again. Right now I want, in the dirtiest ways, to focus on showing her just how happy she’s made me.
“Well, I’ve had a girl already,” I say, shrugging. “I thought it would be nice to share a new experience with our first, before the other kids come.”
“Good point.”
I walk around the car, climb into the driver’s seat, and slide my hand between Alex’s legs, rubbing her pussy through hot pink sweatpants.
“Luke,” she hisses, “in broad daylight?”
“Hey, I got the windows tinted for a reason,” I remind her.
She rolls her eyes, grabs my hand, and tucks it into her sweats. I grunt in satisfaction when I find no barrier between it and her bare pussy. I don’t understand why she owns any underwear, because her lacy panties are always ruined with rips when I tear them off her.
“We’re not going to make it into the house today,” I say, teasing her clit with a feather-light touch. “Where do you want me to fuck you? On the hood of the car? The dryer? My bench?”
Alex leans over, undoing buttons so she can stick her hand in my shirt and feel my chest hair. She loves putting her fingers in it, and I like seeing her wedding ring surrounded by the dark curls. It was the second big diamond I bought her. The first was a diamond butt plug I loosened her tight asshole with before I took her anal virginity.
“The dryer,” Alex decides, nibbling on my ear.
By the time we get home my balls are so heavy, her pussy is so wet, and I am beyond grateful that Marissa moved out and into a college dorm. I miss her a lot, but Alex and I needed our own space, so we could be all over each other, all the time, without worrying about anyone walking in on us.
“Hurry up and stuff your huge cock in my pussy,” Alex orders, stripping off her sweatpants and hopping onto our dryer.
“When did Miss Innocent turn into Miss Bossy?” I joke as I pull off my clothes.
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Miss Innocent hasn’t actually been very innocent since I put a baby in her, but this side of Alex is just as hot to me as the one that made me fall in love.
“When she realized she has you wrapped around her finger,” Alex says in a husky voice.
Well, damn. She’s got me there.
“Of course, that’s why I give you whatever you want,” I say, wrapping her slender legs around my waist. “Especially if what you want is my tongue or cock.”
I rub the tip of said cock against her wet folds and enjoy the sensation for a moment while she gets slicker.
“Oh, baby—” Alex breaks off, making a sound low in her throat as I make circles over her clit with the head of my cock. “I’m so close. If you don’t stick it in right now...”
Fuck, she knows how to get me to speed things up. I can’t stand the idea of not feeling her orgasm around me. I shove my cock inside her, then slam all the way in, balls-deep. We both moan and cling to each other. I put one hand on her beautiful swollen belly, the other in her hair, and she grabs my shoulders.
I don’t know how either of us will stand the weeks after the birth while her body will have to recover, before we get back on our multiple-fucks-a-day schedule. I suspect she’ll be too tired with the new baby to get on her knees for me, but after the initial soreness from childbirth fades, I’ll definitely have my face between Alex’s thighs any chance I get.
“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” I say, pounding into a lovely, tight cunt that feels so good. Better than anything I’ve experienced in real life or dreamed up in a fantasy. “I don’t deserve you—no one does.”
“I feel the same way about my husband,” Alex says, her eyes glassy. “I hope he never lets me go.”
And with those words, I’m on the brink, but somehow I stop myself from shooting my load. I can’t let myself cum until she gets there.
“I’m never gonna let you go,” I grit out, pumping faster. “Even if you are too young for me.”
Alex trembles against me, her breath rushing out of her as her mouth falls open. The faces she makes during powerful orgasms are so fucking sexy. Almost as hot as her pussy latching onto my cock while fireworks go off inside her.
My own explosion rocks my body as her cream spills down onto my balls, and my seed trickles out with her juices once my cock finishes pulsing inside her.
“Fuck,” I breathe, planting a sloppy kiss on my wife’s mouth. “I love my girl.”
Alex presses her forehead against mine as one corner of her mouth quirks up. “And—even if you are too old for her—she loves you too.”
TOO YOUNG FOR THE MECHANIC
Chapter One
HARRIS
There are miles of desert between me and the nearest town when I spot an angel stranded on the side of the road.
My first thought is jackpot. Fucked up? Yes—but I dare any man to stop their mind from going in that direction, after seeing a young strawberry blonde with shapely legs and very kissable lips, painted blood-red.
The pretty young thing is sitting on the trunk of her tan beater car, looking utterly defeated.
I pull up beside her in my yellow, 1968 Chevrolet Corvette convertible, with the black top down.
“Hey there.”
“Hey!” she says, perking up.
“Need help?”
“Yes, please.”
“Alright,” I say, pulling over to the shoulder of the road. “I’m Harris Turner, at your service.”
“I’m Paige. Paige Wilk.”
She flashes a smile as she slides off the hood, looking grateful enough to hug a stranger.
I hope she doesn’t. Although I would enjoy the feeling of her warm body against mine, I don’t want her to know what one look at her has done to me.
I discreetly adjust my half-hard cock in my jeans before I zip up my dark leather jacket and step out of the convertible.
“How long have you been out here, Paige?”
“A few hours. I’m surprised you stopped. For a while, I was waving my arms at anyone who passed, but they kept driving.”
Any man who drove past her must be gay, because I’m pretty sure blind men can’t drive.
“Luck hasn’t been on my side lately,” she says, nodding toward a blown-out tire. “I can’t believe this happened after I practically drained my bank account for this car.”
“Well, I think your luck is turning around.” I try to soften my voice to soothe her, but it comes out as gruff as ever.
I have trouble coming across as friendly. In my presence, men are usually intimidated, and sometimes women act scared. It can’t be helped when you’re built like you’re ready for a fight, and you’re incapable of hiding the fact that you’re rough around the edges, but I’m doing my best to seem approachable to this “damsel in distress.”
“Why’s that?” she asks. “Are you my guardian angel?”
I shake my head, snorting. “No.” The only angel here is you. “But I am a mechanic, and I’m happy to help without charging you anything.”
“But . . . I need to put on a new tire.”
“Yeah...” I look pointedly at the shredded rubber hanging off a scraped-up rim. “I noticed.”
“I don’t have a full-size spare. Only one of those compact ones.”
“Then I’ll put that on, and you can follow me to my shop. I should have a full-size tire I can swap it with.”
“You’ll give me one for free?” She says this like I’m offering a precious jewel.
She’s clearly not used to being given things. That’s unexpected.
Her car might be a clunker, but she’s a gorgeous girl and she’s dressed like a partier. She’s wearing a red leather jacket over a white blouse, a tight red leather skirt, and red pumps that match her red nails and red lips. She looks like one of the trendy kids who drives through this area on their way to an outdoor rave. She should be used to guys falling all over themselves to give her whatever she wants: drinks, drugs, and tickets for expensive events that cost way more than a tire.
“I’ll pay for the tire,” I confirm. “And I’ll do the labor for free too.”
“Wow! Thank you, so, so much!”
Shit. She has that beyond grateful look in her hazel-green eyes again.
The hug happens before I can stop it, her slender arms coming around me as she crashes into my body with a force that is impressive, considering how tiny she is. She almost pushes my solid, six-foot-four frame backwards.
I swallow, awkwardly patting her back as I try to control my body’s reaction to her closeness.
I want to be a gentleman but it’s difficult with her sweet scent perfuming the air that surrounds us. I ache with the need to breathe her in, from the soft, shiny hair that’s cascading down her back, to the ripe young cunt that is currently protected from me by nothing more than a skirt, and probably a pair of panties.
It would be so easy for me to throw her into the backseat of her car and have my way with her. Considering the surprising amount of strength she showed while embracing me, she’d make me work for it, but overpowering her would be inevitable.
My hard, raw cock fucking her tight holes would be inevitable.
“It’s no trouble,” I tell her, yanking her arms away with a firm grip, before I take a step back and put space between us.
It’s not a safe distance—because my mind continues to wander to dark places—but it’s easier to pretend I’m not on the verge of becoming a predator when she’s not touching me.
I should have stopped lusting after girls in her age range a long time ago—and I thought I had, but one look at her has washed away years of self-respect.
God, I hope she’s legal.
She’s acting very naïve, not showing caution around a stranger. She has no idea if I’m a dangerous ex-con who’s trying to pull a fast one on her, or worse. I could be anyone, and I could do anything to her. But she is so trusting. She seems too pure for this world.
“Since you didn’t mention
it, I’m assuming you didn’t call anyone for help. Do you not have a cellphone?” I say, trying to get her age out of her. “I’ve never seen a teen without one.”
She shrugs. “I’m broker than most eighteen-year-olds.”
So, she is legal, but just barely, and I’m old enough to be her dad.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with competing desires. Part of me wants to protect this angel from anything that could harm her, and part of me wants to corrupt her—right here, right now.
PAIGE
I can’t tell if Harris likes me or if he can’t stand me, but I’m pretty sure he has better things to do, and isn’t happy about changing a tire for a teenage girl who can’t do it on her own. He probably thinks I’m so pathetic and annoying, and I don’t blame him. I’m just grateful that this stoic guy took pity on me.
He quietly puts on my spare tire, barely responding to my incessant chattering while I watch him. I wish I could stop talking, but I can’t when I’m nervous.
I’m always very nervous around handsome men, and Harris is the hottest man I’ve ever met. I feel like his face should be the first thing someone sees when they Google: tall, dark, and handsome. He has perfectly proportioned features, penetrating brown eyes, and dark stubble on his strong jaw that just screams hunk. And his full head of black hair and big, grease-stained hands might not be everyone’s weakness, but they’re bonuses to me. As they work, I can’t take my eyes off those rugged hands—or his thick, muscular arms.
I’m so glad Harris took off his jacket and threw it in the trunk of his cool vintage convertible, before pulling out some tools. I could stare at his tan arms all day. I was hoping he would wrap them around me when I hugged him, but in that moment luck abandoned me again.
“So, the guy at the dealership said the car should get me from the Midwest to California, and then last for about a year without needing major work,” I say, unable to stop myself from prattling on. “But he didn’t deny it was a piece of junk, compared to everything else on the lot. I guess I should be thankful that I made it all this way without any issues, other than the tire.”