Her Dad's Friend(25)

He studies them, face unreadable.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. Tears well up in my eyes. As soon as I blink they streak down my cheeks. “I didn’t do this on purpose. I would never try to trap you.”

He still hasn’t said anything, just stares down at the tests. Several seconds pass, but they feel like minutes.

“Fuck, Rachael,” he finally says, sounding furious. I flinch. “I thought you were breaking up with me. I was half out of my mind.” He lets out a long breath and sinks back into his seat.

Wait, what? He’s more upset at the thought of me breaking up with him than me being pregnant?

“So … you’re not mad about the …?” My voice trails off.

He starts to laugh. I don’t know what the hell is going on. He’s not being loud but it feels that way, trapped in the cab of his truck.

He takes my hand, face easing into a smile. “How can I be mad? I’m going to be a dad—the father of our child.”

That was not the reaction I was expecting.

He unlatches my seatbelt and pulls me toward him, wrapping me in a tight hug. He continues to laugh and pets my hair. “We’re going to make great parents. You and this child will never want for anything.”

I lean away from him. “Paul, I don’t know. I have school—”

“And you’ll continue on with school. I’ll stay at home with the baby while you get your degree, and if you want to work after that, you can work. Or if you want to stay home, you can stay home. I’ll do whatever you want to do.” He leans away from me and takes my chin in his hand, lifting it so our eyes meet. “Rachael, I love you. I want to be with you forever. I want us to be a family.”

Suddenly I see a vision of our little family so clear in my head and happy tears begin to toddle down my cheeks. He wipes them away with his thumb. “What about my parents?” I say.

His smile falters. “You leave your parents up to me. I don’t want you stressing about anything right now.”

He presses a delicate kiss on my mouth and down my neck. He takes off my shirt and then my bra and finds a nipple. I close my eyes and bask in the feel of having my breast sucked.

“That feels amazing,” I tell him.

He moves to my other nipple, giving it plenty of attention too. By the time he’s done, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before. I reach over and unbutton his jeans and release his meaty cock. It bounces out from the open hole of his boxer briefs as if it were spring-loaded, reaching up to his belly button. I suck the head of it in my mouth, teasing, running my tongue down his length. His hand is on the back of my head; not pushing me down, but helping to keep the pace. I can tell by the way his hand shakes that he’s showing great restraint. He’s being careful with me when he doesn’t need to. If he wants to fuck me like a porn star, I’m all for it.

I come up for air and look at him. “Do whatever you want with me. Don’t be gentle just because I’m … I can take it.”

He laughs. “You have no idea what you do to me when you talk like that.”

I glance down at his massive cock, the way the veins strain and protrude. “I think I have an idea.”

“Open your mouth,” he says.

I do what I’m told.

“Wider.” He licks his lips. “Good girl. Now suck my cock.”

I go down on him, relaxing my throat so he slides all the way in and my lips touch his pubes. I’m able to breathe through my nose and get air around my lips when I open wide enough. He’s grunting and moaning and I gag several times, but it’s so hot I don’t let go when he tries to stop.

“Wait, I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he says.

This time I release him and sit up.

He smiles at me and wipes my lips. “God, you give one hell of a blow job, you know that?”

He lays me down on the bench seat. It’s a big truck, but Paul’s a big man and there’s not much room. Still, we move easily enough. He takes off the rest of my clothes. Grabbing me behind the knees, he folds me in half, placing my ankles on each of his shoulders. The entire time his eyes lock on mine. He enters me in one long, slow push. His gaze never wavers as he moves in and out of me in languid, swimmer strokes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he makes love to me.

I always hated that term, making love. Sounds sappy and old fashioned. But this isn’t some fast and furious fuck, a race to get each other off. This feels like love. Full, and content, and emotional enough to make me cry. I don’t do that though. I’m not trying to scare him away. Instead, I watch his face, long for him, consume him, absorb him inside of me until we melt together into a single organism.