“I lost that baby. So call me whatever you want. At the end of the day, I carried his child, not you.”
Wesley raises his head and begs me to look at him, apologizing through a single stare. No matter what happened, it was still irrelevant. It’s pointless dwelling on the past when my future is waiting backstage.
Anthony asks more questions which results in Farrah storming off. When the segment is done, he thanks us both as we leave and walk backstage.
Wesley pulls my arm back, asking me to stop.
“I’m sorry Em.”
“I forgive you, okay. Just take care of yourself.”
I pat his arm then walk away to where Logan is standing in the back room. As soon as he sees me, the worry on his face subsides, replaced with a smile.
“You did well.”
“Barely made it.”
He brings me in for an embrace, the scent of his cologne making it all better.
“I know that was hard for you to watch.”
He smiles into my hair. “It’s okay, I know how to take it out on you.”
I laugh at his naughty answer, but stop midway to breathe out the sick feeling in my stomach. He pulls me back, searching my eyes until a smile plays on his lips.
“Go. Now.”
I don’t say a word, running past the backstage crew and straight for the bathroom where my stomach unravels and empties into the basin just in time.
I take a deep breath, peeling myself away from the basin and splashing my face with cold water.
Morning sickness—the bane of my existence.
“Babe, just one more minute,” I beg her through strained vocals. “Not even, like twenty fucking seconds.”
She’s doing that thing with her mouth, wrapping her tongue around me while she literally has me by the balls. Holding them delicately in her hand, she tugs on them with enough force to make me crumble in pleasure which sends signals to every fucking part of my body that shit is gonna get real.
I love watching her—sexy with her hair a wild mess in the palm of my hands. Her eyes divert to the coffee table again, distracting me slightly. I rein her in to focus on me, selfish (I know), using my hands to put her focus back on my dick. The most important thing in the room right now.
The warm feeling disappears as she withdraws, disconnecting the heat that came from her twister tongue.
“Ashley, you really should see what’s on your phone in case it’s important,” she suggests, catching her breath and licking her lips.
My girl is sexy on her knees. Well, fuck . . . she’s sexy every which way I look at her.
Bending down, I cup her chin in my hand and stare into her eyes. She’s always grinning; cute dimples that distracted any rational thoughts I had because I couldn’t turn her mischievous face away.
My dick just won’t let up, begging to be finished off despite the constant interruptions.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, leaning forward to grab my cell with frustration.
There’s several missed calls, messages and emails that have come through in the space of ten minutes. I don’t know what to look at first but go for Logan’s messages since he would only message me a million times if it was important.
I’m sorry. Talk to me first before you read anything.
What is this fucker going on about?! I’m about to ignore him since I’m still massively pissed he bailed somewhere without telling me a single thing. His actions of late had been out of character and I suspected it had something to do with Louisa turning up at our apartment dressed in this skimpy black dress with no bra on. Even for her—it was wild and nothing like her usual uptight attire.
I log into my social media account to see the thousands upon thousands of tags until I follow a link to a media article posted an hour ago.