by Hunter Rose
“Does fucking me in this room turn you on?” she whispers, her voice thick.
It’s strange to be back in this room I spent so much time in as a kid – a lot of it not very happy – but having a beautiful, naked woman in my lap is definitely helping.
“Because fucking you in this room is turning me on,” she continues, running the tip of her tongue around my ear.
I say nothing as she grabs hold of my dick and guides it to her opening, hot and slick with her juices. I lean forward and take hold of her breasts with my hands, kneading them, licking and biting her stiff nipples, drawing a sharp moan from her. As I suck on her tits, Scarlet starts rubbing the head of my dick against her swollen nub. She throws her head back and moans, jerking my cock at the same time she’s using the head of it to get herself off.
Scarlet rises up and, without warning, slams herself back down on me, piercing her hot, slick core with my rock-hard staff. Digging her nails into my shoulders, she starts to roll her hips, rising and falling, grinding her slick center down on me in a hard, steady rhythm. I reach down and cup her ass, my fingers pressing hard into her flesh as I grip her, helping guide her up and down on me.
“Fuck me, Scarlet,” I growl. “Fuck me harder.”
I wince as she buries her nails into my shoulders. She picks up her pace. Scarlet shoves her tongue into my mouth, kissing me hard as she fucks me. She lets out a sharp yelp when I slap her ass, the crack of my hand meeting her flesh ringing in my ears.
“More,” she gasps.
I reach back and bring my hand down on her ass again – so hard this time, it makes my hand sting. Scarlet throws her head back and cries out, grinding herself down on me, taking me even deeper into her dripping wet core. I smack her ass several more times, each time harder than the last, and Scarlet goes crazy, rolling her hips hard as she fucks me wildly.
She stands up and turns around, settling herself back down on my lap. She reaches down and grabs my cock, guiding it her wet slit, slipping it between her slick folds. I thrust my hips and drive my cock deep into her. Scarlet leans back against me, and I kiss her neck and bite her shoulder as I thrust myself into her dripping wet flower.
Reaching around her waist, I rub her swollen clit with my fingers as I pound her slippery center. Her entire body trembles, and I feel her tensing up around me, her inner lips gripping my thick shaft.
“Roman. Oh God, Roman. Yes, baby.”
Our bodies rock in a perfect rhythm, my fingers strumming her button as I plunge myself into her again and again. Scarlet presses her head back against me, and I inhale the sweet, citrusy scent of her shampoo and body wash. A moan, low at first, passes her lips and grows steadily louder. I drive into her harder, feeling myself being pulled to the brink by the gravity of her pussy.
Scarlet cries out as her body explodes, and she trembles. Her breath becomes ragged and labored as she twitches, calling out my name as she comes. I keep rubbing her clit and driving my staff into her pussy, fucking her through her orgasm, pounding her harder until I feel that familiar weightlessness in my stomach. I topple over the edge.
I bite her shoulder and plunge my rigid cock into her one last time, holding myself deep in her slick, wet core. Her inner muscles constrict, tightening around my rod, and I burst inside of her. A low, loud growl escapes me as I fill up the condom, my cock throbbing with every beat of my heart.
Scarlet turns around and straddles my lap again, her body melding with mine. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her tight. I plant a line of soft kisses along her collarbone, all the way up her neck. She presses her forehead to mine, our eyes locked together.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you too, Scarlet,” I respond. “So much.”
She presses her lips to mine gently, then lays her head on my shoulder, and we stay like that until long after the fire goes out.
29
Scarlet
Roman left for the symposium early this morning, leaving me alone with Kinsey and his mother. We spent the morning having an incredibly lavish breakfast and touring the rear grounds of the house. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before – well, nowhere outside of the movies, anyway. There is a koi pond as large as a swimming pool that Kinsey is mesmerized by. A rock formation with a large waterfall stands at the end of the pool, and a variety of water plants float on the surface.
“Mama, mama, look!” Kinsey points at the pond.
Large fish, patterned of gold, red, white, and black, swim lazily below the surface, their large tailfins swishing from side to side. They’re beautiful.
“I see them, Kinsey,” I smile.
She races off around the pool, clapping and laughing wildly. The rear grounds of the house seem to go on forever, the borders of the property marked off by tall flowering bushes and trees. A large gazebo stands in the center of the grounds and is surrounded by large trees with thick canopies that provide plenty of shade, and a massive rose garden.
“She’s an amazing girl,” Marjory comments.
“She is,” I reply. “I’m lucky to have her.”
Marjory looks at me. “Oh, I think she’s pretty lucky to have a mom like you.”
I smile and feel my cheeks flush, looking down at the ground. Marjory slips her arm through mine and leads me toward the rose gardens. We walk in silence for a while and take in the wide variety of plants on the rear grounds, inhaling the scent of the many varied flowers that surround us. It’s a riot of colors and aromas – almost overwhelming. And yet, it all seems to blend together to create something unique and not entirely unpleasant.
“I have to admit, I was losing hope that I’d ever have a grandchild,” Marjory chuckles. “Thank God for you – even if the road from there to here was a little rough.”
I laugh. “It had its moments.”
We walk to the gazebo and step inside. There’s a large table – probably big enough to seat ten comfortably. I settle down onto one of the well-cushioned chairs. From where we’re sitting, I can see Kinsey running around on the grass, laughing and squealing, playing some game of her own invention. I turn to Marjory, wanting to ask her a question that’s been running through my mind for a long time, but one I don’t know that I have the right to ask.
“You can ask me anything, Scarlet,” she announces, before I even have a chance to say anything. “We’re family now and should get to know each other. So please, ask me anything.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “I guess I was just curious about Roman’s dad – your husband,” I say slowly and softly. “I was wondering why their relationship is so – rough.”
A slight frown creases her lips. She looks down at her hands. “Roman hasn’t told you?”
“He hasn’t told me a lot,” I sigh. “Getting him to talk about his dad is like pulling teeth.”
A wry grin touches her lips. “Not surprising,” she tells me. “The funny thing about this is that neither one of them realize just how alike they are. They’re both stubborn, and they’re both pig-headed. And they can both hold onto a grudge like no other.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, believe me, I know just how stubborn that man can be.”
She gives me a smile. “My husband loves Roman. He’s proud of him. He’s just not always the best at expressing it,” she goes on. “Orson has always wanted the best for Roman. Admittedly, though, he can be – overbearing.”
“And Roman, being who he is, rebelled,” I observe.
Marjory nods. “Orson wanted Roman to follow in his footsteps – practically step for step,” she continues. “Roman always wanted to be a doctor, but he didn’t necessarily want to walk that exact same path. He wanted to go about things in his own way.”
I nod. “A different path to the same goal?”
“Exactly,” she confirms. “But Orson tried to push Roman to conform to the mold he’d laid out for him. He pushed him pretty hard. Which didn’t go very well, as you can imagine.”
“I’m guessing that’s when Roman enlisted in the Navy.�
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Marjory laughs. “My son was right; you are very smart,” she says. “And yes, Roman enlisted as a way to get out from under his father. To get away from the pressure Orson was bringing to bear on him.”
I watch as Kinsey stands before the rose bushes, smelling the flowers. A butterfly flutters past her. Kinsey, grinning and laughing, turns and gives chase. She just looks – happy – and it makes my heart swell.
“After he came home from the service, Roman tried to make it work. He did the best he could,” Marjory explains. “He did as his father asked, tried to walk that path. But it wasn’t all that long before those two stubborn fools started to clash again.”
“And that’s how he ended up in California,” I grin.
She nods. “Much to my chagrin, yes. I miss my son.”
“I’m sorry, Marjory.”
She gives me a smile. “Maybe it was the hand of fate,” she beams. “I mean, if he hadn’t moved to California, he wouldn’t have run into you again after all those years – and I wouldn’t have a beautiful, wonderful granddaughter right now.”
“I never would have imagined the hand of fate would have revealed itself through my best friend’s appendix.”
We laugh together, and Marjory takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “For bringing that little girl into my life, I wouldn’t have cared if it had been an inflamed colon that put you and Roman together again.”
Marjory is not what I expected her to be. Before we got here, I thought she’d be some snooty, aristocratic matron who looked down her nose at me. What I’ve found is a wonderful woman who’s charming, funny, and more down to earth than I thought possible. Roman was right; I love this woman to death.
She turns to me. “Would you mind if I took Kinsey shopping?” she asks. “I know you’re not here for very long, and I just want to spend as much time with my granddaughter as I can.”
“Absolutely,” I respond. “I’m sure she would love that.”
Truth be told, a nap sounds incredible to me, so as much as she’d enjoy spending some time with Kinsey, having some time to myself sounds great as well. Marjory favors me with a wide smile and takes my hand in both of hers.
“Thank you, Scarlet.”
The sun is still slanting in through the windows when I wake, but I can tell the afternoon is beginning to fade. I’ve been out for a while. I slip out of the most luxurious bed I’ve ever laid my body in and pad over to the bathroom where I splash some cold water on my face and run a brush through my hair.
I don’t hear Kinsey or Roman, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not here – the house is so big, they could be here, and I just don’t hear them from where I am. I look down and consider changing but decide I can do that later. I just need to get the lay of the land. My yoga pants and a t-shirt are fine for now.
Crossing the large room, I head out and poke my head into Roman’s room. I see the chair near the fire that we had sex in last night and flush at the memory. He’s not in his room, though, so I press on, heading downstairs. I walk down a long hallway, heading toward the back of the house, my footsteps barely more than a whisper on the dark hardwood floor.
I don’t hear Roman, Kinsey, or Marjory’s voice. It sounds like I’m still alone in the house. I imagine they’ll be home soon. At least, I hope they are; I’m starting to get kind of hungry. Maybe a small snack won’t hurt. I head in the direction I hope the kitchen is in, winding my way through the many corridors of the house, hoping I can find my way back to the front of the house and our rooms. It’s not difficult for me to imagine getting lost somewhere in this house, never to be seen again.
As I approach what I think is the kitchen – I don’t recognize any of the hallways I’m in – when I hear a couple of women talking and laughing together. I don’t recognize the voices, so I imagine it’s the house staff. I hope they can at least point me in the direction of the kitchen. I’m about to step into the room when I hear one of them say my name. It makes me stop in my tracks and lean forward, listening intently.
“She’s a lucky girl,” says the first woman, her voice low and husky. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”
“Please,” says the other, her voice higher-pitched. “I am not going to have a kid just to trap a guy into marrying me.”
“You so totally would,” the first one spits. “Don’t even pretend you’re above that. If you know you could get the payday that bitch is gonna get, you’d be on your knees faster than you can say blow job.”
The second woman laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Whatever,” she says. “All I know is that woman wormed her way into a winning lottery ticket.”
My stomach churns, and I taste the bile in my throat. I feel like I’m going to be sick. These two actually believe I got myself pregnant on purpose. They think I did it to trap Roman into being with me. They think I did it for the money, to get Roman to take care of me.
“I bet you anything it’s not even Roman’s kid,” comments the woman with the high-pitched voice. “I bet you she’s lying through her teeth just to get into that man’s wallet.”
The first woman laughs. “You are such an evil bitch. I didn’t even think about that,” she says. “But I bet you’re right. I saw the kid, and she doesn’t look anything like Roman.”
“Do you know if they did a paternity test?” the second woman asks.
“If he didn’t, he should be smart about it and get one done,” the first woman says. “You ask me, that woman looks like the type who gets around if you know what I mean.”
“I bet you’re right,” the first woman adds. “She just looks like the type who goes down more often than an elevator.”
They laugh uproariously together, and I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. How can they think that? How can they be so cruel? So hateful? The tears still streaming down my face, I step into the doorway and look at the two women, the sound of their laughter seared into my mind. I glare at them, clenching my jaw. I just want them to know I heard them. That I heard what they said.
“How dare you,” I hiss, my voice brittle and harsh.
Both women spin around, their faces blanching when they see me standing there.
“Miss Carrington,” stammers the woman with the low voice. “I – I – what’s wrong?”
“I heard what you two said,” I growl, angrily wiping away the tears, the anger bubbling up within me. “Don’t even pretend you weren’t just calling me a gold-digging whore. I heard you.”
The two women stand there, faces pale, their eyes wider than dinner plates. They know they’ve been busted and are near to panic.
“Please, Miss Carrington,” begs the first woman. “I – we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to offend –”
“Yes you did,” I cut her off. “And you’re only sorry that I overheard what you said.”
Both women look down at the ground, both of them knowing what I said is true – they’re not sorry they said it, they’re sorry they got caught. And I can tell they’re not worried about how they made me feel; they’re worried about their jobs. The woman with the high-pitched voice looks up, tears standing in her eyes, an expression of fear etched into her features.
“Miss, please,” she says softly. “We really are sorry. And I know we don’t have a right to ask but – we can’t afford to lose our jobs.”
I glare harder at them, the anger in me burning bright. “Then maybe you should have thought about that before you started popping off.”
I turn on my heel and walk away before either of them has a chance to respond. I have zero interest in hearing what they have to say or their fake-ass apologies. I take several wrong turns in the hallways, but finally manage to find my way back to the foyer. Once there, I dash up the stairs, turn right and run down the hall, finding my room and slamming the door behind me. I run to the bed and throw myself down on it, sobbing uncontrollably.
I know I shouldn’t let what they said
bother me. I know that, ultimately, what they think of me doesn’t matter. They don’t know me, so their opinion of me shouldn’t matter. And yet, hearing those words and hearing their true thoughts about me still cuts deep. Far deeper than I should let it. I can’t help it – I’m human – and hearing people call me a whore who’s lying about the birth father of my child just to score a payday hurts. It hurts a lot.
I lay on the bed crying, feeling wrung out and exhausted by emotion until the welcoming darkness of sleep pulls me under once more.
“Mama, mama. Wake up, mama.”
Kinsey’s voice is muffled. Distant. It sounds like it’s either a million miles away or I’m hearing her from underwater. Slowly, I rise to the surface, doing my best to shake off the sleep as well as the lead weight of emotions that are still heavy in my chest. I do my best to put a smile on my face, not wanting my little girl to see me sad or upset.
“Hey baby,” I greet her. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”
She nods enthusiastically and holds her hands up. She wiggles her purple, sparkling fingers, showing off her new manicure.
“Wow, baby, those are beautiful,” I smile.
I see Roman leaning against the door jamb, his arms folded over his chest as he watches us and a grim look on his face that sends a sliver of worry through me. I can tell he wants to talk.
“Hey sweetheart,” he says to Kinsey. “Can you go find Grandma? I think she’s getting ready for dinner.”
Dinner? I glance at the clock on the nightstand and groan. I’ve apparently slept the whole day away. I hope he’s not upset at me for that. It’s not like I had much else to do today, not with him gone and Marjory taking Kinsey out. As I come back to myself and shake off the fog of sleep, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, the memory of those two horrible women seeps back into my mind. I hear their voices again and feel my mood turning sour again.
“Yeah, baby, I bet Grandma can use your help,” I encourage her.