Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(54)
She shouts as if she’s startled. I lick her, suck her, stroking my tongue the length of her pussy. I lick her labia, thrust inside her, still teasing her asshole with my thumb.
“Nick, Nick, Nick…” She’s got her back arched, her face shoved deep into the pillow.
“Yes?”
“I need you inside me. Right now.”
With a chuckle, I ease up and away from her, lifting her hips. There’s a pillow nearby—I grab it and put it under her to hold her ass tilted up. Those damn panties are still in the way, so I go ahead and tear them off her.
She’s so wet and open for me there’s no point easing in. I just pound right into her, balls deep, and start thrusting. Her asshole is right in range, looking at me, so I tease it again. She seemed to like that.
Regardless, I like it. I also like the way her body just lets me in. I stroke hard and long, deep with each thrust. The novelty of fucking her bareback hasn’t worn off; I’m still almost overwhelmed at the feel of it.
She shudders again, and this time the sound that comes from her is damn near a scream. Laughing, I push my thumb deeper inside her asshole, my dick deeper inside her cunt. When I let go, it’s a harsh surge of pleasure that clenches a fist on my balls, rips its way up my spine.
When I come back to myself, she’s breathing hard again, and I can see the corner of a smile on her face. Her hair has gone damp around the edges, a sweaty tendril stringing over her eye.
I lean forward and kiss her back then move to lie next to her.
“Do you trust me now?” I ask her.
Her smile deepens. “I’m not sure, Nick. Maybe you should demonstrate again.”
With a chuckle, I press a kiss to her forehead and draw her close.
Chapter Nine
Sarah
The next few weeks go more smoothly than anything’s gone in my life for at least the last five years. Nick has been busy with his work, but he makes time for me—we go out to dinner at least twice a week, where he wines and dines me and makes me feel special. At first I figured it was so we’d be seen out and about, so Sal would hear about what we were up to. Then I realized he doesn’t always take me places where Spada’s guys hang out. In fact, he’s started asking me where I want to go rather than planning it ahead of time. Asking what kind of food I’m craving, that kind of thing. It’s nice.
Of course, when I start waking up sick in the morning, I wonder if he didn’t have an ulterior motive for that, too. Maybe he’s been cataloguing my cravings in a diary or something to see if he can figure out if I’m pregnant.
Well, he can stop. Because I’m pretty sure there’s something cooking in the oven. It seems an appropriate figure of speech for me. So much for taking months to get pregnant. It figures that when I’m hoping it’ll take a while, I turn out to be a fertile Myrtle.
I don’t tell Nick right away. Every time I think about telling him, another tremor joins the nausea in my stomach. I know exactly what it is. It’s fear. Why I’m afraid to tell him, I don’t know. That’s the plan, right? For me to provide him with an heir? That was the bargain I struck with him, so he should be happy I’m holding up my end of it. But I’m still plagued by the fear that he’ll find something wrong. It’s too early, or I took too long, or he’ll just change his mind when faced with the reality of a child.
So I want to be absolutely sure before I tell Nick anything at all. I mean, there’s a slim chance I’m reacting to something I ate or nursing a low-grade case of the flu. I pick up a pregnancy test at a grocery store as discreetly as I can, even driving out of the immediate neighborhood to a place where I’m fairly sure there are fewer prying eyes than there are close to home. No point risking any rumors getting back to Nick before I’m ready to deal with the situation. Then I stress about everything, knowing I have to wait until the next morning to take the test to make sure it’s as accurate as possible.
The test is positive. Of course. I stare at the two blue lines, and my hands shake. I’m suddenly not just nervous about telling Nick, but scared to death. About everything. I’m having a baby. Nick’s baby. No matter what happens, nothing in my life will ever be the same.
This changes the game. This will make it harder for me to get away. I know myself too well, and I know it’ll be far too difficult for me to leave him once I’ve had his baby.
Okay. So I won’t leave him. I’ll make sure he has to hold up his side of the bargain. He made promises, and now he’ll have to keep them.
I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to eat breakfast, but I know Nick always sits down for at least some coffee and toast before he heads out to work. I’ll tell him while he’s getting caffeinated.