Another

“Baby,” she insulted.

“Hellcat.”

She smirked, and I moved to the dresser next to us, needing better leverage. I swiped everything off the table, ignoring the crash. Resting her ass on the edge, I gripped her hips and fucked her, losing myself in the sight of my cock tunneling in and out of her bare cunt.

“Ian. Fuck.”

I wanted to say anything to get a rise out of her, but my orgasm was barreling down on me, and I needed every ounce of oxygen I could get to focus on not coming just yet. Moving my thumb to her clit, I pressed down before pinching her pussy lips together and rubbing.

Her mouth opened on a wordless cry. Her back arched, and I took the invitation to bite at her breasts. I lost the battle to not come when her pussy squeezed me like a vice. Burying my face in her cleavage, I groaned my orgasm. Goose bumps broke out across my skin as I emptied everything I had inside her. Her hand was in my hair, playing with the strands while we both caught our breath.

After a moment, I slowly slid out, I enjoyed how docile she was, but also wanted to get her all riled up again. She was fun, and I wanted to play some more.

Brushing her hair back from her damp cheek, I smirked. “Have I fucked you into submission yet?”

Her nostrils flared over her deep inhale before she pushed me away.

“You are such a child,” she said, reaching for her shirt.

“C’mon, Carina. Let me try again. I’m sure I can tame that mouth other ways.”

She stopped dressing to glare at me but didn’t say anything before continuing.

“You’re a pig.”

“You like it.”

She hesitated because she did like it. She just didn’t want to like it. It made me wonder which Carina was real. The one who wanted to be pushed into submission, or the one currently glaring at me.

“I do not.”

“C’mon, Carina. I could make it fun. All you have to do is admit how much you like the way I rile you up.”

“You make it annoying with your immature jokes.”

“I make you laugh, and we’ve already established I can make you come.”

“Being with someone isn’t just about coming.”

“I mean,” I gave her my most charming smile, enjoying the banter. “It definitely makes it better.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, tugging her purse over her shoulder before heading to the door.

“Hey, wait,” I said, jerking on my pants.

“Thanks for the orgasms, Ian.”

She blew me a kiss and walked out. I managed to get the torn shirt back on, if not buttoned, before I chased after her. She was just getting in her car when I got outside. I jogged to her door and knocked on the window.

She looked me over with narrowed eyes, and I got lost trying to figure them out. There was desire. She liked what happened in there. She liked the banter, and she knew I was only pushing her because I liked her giving it back to me.

But also, behind that, what should have been irritation was fear. She was scared that she liked it. The first time I met her, she told me her fiancé was in love with someone else. She’d been hurting, and it looked like the six months since hadn’t done much to ease the pain. So, when she rolled down her window, I softened my tone, letting my sincerity bleed through.

“Can I have your number, Carina?”

She looked me up and down and worked her jaw back and forth before finally answering.

“No.”

And then she drove off. Literally, leaving me in the dust.

Again.

3 Carina

Six weeks later

I wasn’t sure I was breathing anymore. It was like an out of body experience, and I floated away watching myself staring down at the two pink, double lines in the box. I knew it was me standing there, hands braced on my desk, jaw dropped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything happening to my body. I had no control over it.

Why couldn’t it have been food poisoning?

You know shit is bad when you’d rather have food poisoning, the flu, or even Ebola be the reason behind all the vomiting.

But no, it was another virus all together that invaded my body.

A baby.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and the plastic stick blurred as I slammed back into all the emotions lighting up every nerve in my body.

I was pregnant.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm down. Inhaled slowly in through my nose and out through my trembling lips. I wasn’t usually a crier. Stupid hormones.

At least I knew whose baby it was. Thankfully I could make the deduction that Ian was the father since he was the only guy I’d slept with in the past six months.

I’d like to say I was shocked about how it happened like I hadn’t been dreaming of it every night for the past six weeks. Like it hadn’t had me waking up, sweating in the middle of the night, desperate for relief.