Mad? He was fucking beaming during the pregnancy announcement. The old bastard was over joyous, telling the whole fucking world he was going to have another heir. The fucking prick hates it that I'm his only fucking son, a burden to his political aspirations. Unless … Oh, fuck. Oh, fucking fuck. It can't be.
"Don't tell me that … ?" I ask her, my heart fucking racing. Jesus Christ, I think I'm going to be fucking sick. She simply nods, hesitant. Holy fuck, am I dreaming? Please tell me that I'm not fucking dreaming. "I'm going to be a father?"
"You're going to be a father, Lance," she tells me, a tender smile lighting her face up. Suddenly, the whole world stops spinning. I'm going to be a fucking father! My heart is ready to burst. Happiness floods me and I smile, going up to my feet. I grab her by the waist and pick her up, spinning her across the room.
"I'm going to be a father!" I laugh, overjoyed. Can you imagine it? A little Lance running around, peeking under the girl's skirts! Or maybe a little Jocelyn, ready to dazzle the whole fucking world with her looks and smarts! Fuck, this started as the worst day of my life-and it became the very best one.
"I love you. I love you so fucking much," I tell her, placing my hands on her cheeks as I put her on the floor.
"I love you too," she whispers into me, that desperation no longer on his face. There's only happiness there, making her even more fucking beautiful, as if that could be fucking possible. I press my mouth against hers, the touch of her lips marking the best day of my life.
I'm going to be a fucking dad!
52
Jocelyn
"I love you. I love you so fucking much!" Lance says, his words like honey and wine. They're curt and perfect, and above all, they are everything I need to hear. After everything that I told him, after trying to drive him away … That's the thing with love, I think. He can't be driven away when it really exists.
"I love you too," I tell him, my heart brimming with happiness. "But I want you to prove it to me," I say with a smile, taking one step toward him, our mouths just two inches away from each other. Smiling back, he brushes the back of his hand against my face, tucking a stray lock of hair over my ear.
"I'll do more than that," he tells me, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. I feel that familiar spark of pleasure running through me, the touch of his mouth on mine is one of the sweetest things I have ever experienced in my entire life. "Close your eyes," he says, pulling back from me.
"Why?" My heart is starting to beat faster, anxiety crawling under my skin as every fiber of my body starts to ache for him.
"Just do it." I comply, my eyelids drooping before he even finishes speaking. There's something in the tone of his voice. He showed up in my life as young brash boy, but he's maturing. He's shaping up into a man, one who towers above all other mortals. But, in the end, it doesn't matter how much he grows up: he will always be my Lance.
I hear him walk across the room, his sure footsteps taking him away from he. He rummages through something-one of his travel bags, I assume-and then walks back toward me. I tremble slightly as he presses something over my face, soft fabric brushing against my skin. He places it over my eyes and runs it around my head, tying the slender piece of fabric tightly. It's a tie, an expensive one, judging by the smoothness of it.
"Now, turn around," he whispers into my ear, his lips so close they almost brush against it. I turn on my heels, still feeling his warm breath against my neck. My skin prickles as I feel the gentle pressure of his fingers on my back, sliding over my shoulder blades until they meet the zipper on my dress, right below my neck. Slowly, he grabs the fastener and starts pulling it down, the sound of it like a melody. My naked back turned to him, he places his hands on my shoulders and gently pulls the straps down my arms, the dress drooping and falling over my chest, hanging by my waist.
I say nothing. I simply lick my lips in anticipation as he runs his fingers up my arms, hooking them on the straps of my bra and pulling them down just like he did with my dress. He unclasps it and lets it fall from my body onto the floor, my naked nipples pulsing with raw desire.
Breathing softly but at a growing pace, I'm covered in goose bumps, desire burying its long fangs. Lance is taking his time; we're not hiding or rushing anymore, and that makes me even more anxious for his touch … for his body.
"You look lovely," he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. Sliding his fingers over my back, he hooks them on the bunched up fabric on my waist, carefully pushing the dress down my legs. As I feel the fabric hitting the floor, I step out of it, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever. I'm only wearing my tiny lace thong and my heels and I feel more naked than ever before. He has seen me naked countless times, but I could always look into his eyes, take in his reaction. Right now, there's only darkness-that and the warm maddening touch of his fingertips.
"I want to see you," I say, suddenly realizing that I'm breathing way harder than I expected.
"I know," he runs one lazy finger over the contour of my thong, moving it around my waist and then tracing the curve of my buttocks. "But there's nothing for you to see now … You can only feel."
There's a wetness building in me, one stemming from the desperate need for him that's pooling in my mind. I feel vulnerable right now … Vulnerable and wet. Could there be a more perfect combination?
Grabbing my hands, he moves me across the room; I follow after him, almost as if I were on a leash, and stop when he does.
"Sit down," he says, and my body responds immediately, my knees bending at the sound of his words. I have no idea where I'm standing, but I trust him … Who wouldn't trust Lance? I sit down, my buttocks finding the soft mattress underneath them. It shifts softly under my weight, and my mind starts to imagine how it would feel to be pinned down between the sheets and Lance's body. "Now lay down," he continues, no longer touching me. My heart beating faster and faster, I climb on top of the bed, lying back as he instructed me to.
There are a few seconds of silence, and my head starts to spin; it's maddening to have no idea what's going on around me … In a good way. A very good way.
"You can't imagine the view I have," Lance says, the sound of his voice telling me that he's standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at my almost naked body.
"You can have more than just a view," I say, my lips curling into a smile. As far as I'm concerned, he can have whatever he wants. I might be much older than he is, but I'm more than willing to make all his wishes come true. How could I not? Just being here with him, wearing just a thong, heels and a blindfold … This is a dream come true right here.
"I intend to." I feel the mattress shifting again, his weight now added to mine as he climbs on the bed. Still, he doesn't touch me. His sweet breath is on my neck, and I can almost sense the electricity between my skin and his lips. I sigh heavily, anxious to feel something-anything.
"Patience," he whispers, brushing one finger over my outer thigh. He slides it up from there to my shoulders, tracing the same path back down. I pant, my body as warm as if I were lying in a bed of coals. "Good things come to those who wait."
"I don't want to wait," I blurt out, feeling my heart pounding inside of my head. I can barely think straight.
"Well, what other choice do you have?" He lays his lips against my neck, my skin prickling as a response. "None. None at all." Tracing the contour of my jawline with his lips, he finally brushes them against my own. He pulls on my bottom lip with his teeth then, placing one finger between my breasts and running it down to my navel.
This is absolute torture. The sweetest kind there is. He knows I want him desperately, that both my mind and body are boiling with desire, but he won't bend to my whims; he keeps moving his finger up and down my body, his tongue softly darting between my lips as I struggle to keep control. I'm already grabbing at the sheets, my hands balling into fists as I do my best to keep still.
"Don't move," he says, almost as if he could feel the inner struggle raging inside of me. "Don't make me tie you up … Because I will." My insides clench at his words, and I wonder how good it would be to have both hands and feet tied up, my naked body his to use as he pleases … I'm growing wetter by the second, my thong feeling sticky as it hugs my soaked pussy.
He starts to stroke my skin with his finger, gently caressing the patch of skin between my breasts. I'm aching for him to grab them, to squeeze them firmly under his hands … But he keeps teasing me, circling the base of my breasts in the most torturous way, never going over the curve that leads to my nipples.