The Roommate's Baby

14

Cannon

I wake up in my own bed, but with Rina still cradled in my arms. I'm hard already, the same way I am every morning when I wake up beside her. Even before my conscious mind starts to process where I am or what I'm doing, my body is already responding to her, telling me how much I want her.

As if I don't already know.

Last night was wild. I've never had a girl try so hard for me before—getting a wax just for me, dressing up in that skimpy outfit, wearing the wig, the new panties. I never thought I was much into that stuff—and I'm not, really. Give me Rina with a messy ponytail, her sweatpants hanging off her hips and a plain white tank top any day of the week—but there was something hot as fuck about knowing that she did all that for me. Put in all that effort just to make sure I enjoyed my night—that we enjoyed our night.

And we sure as fuck did.

After the restaurant, I guess we were both still riding high on our bathroom adventure. We wound up only making it halfway home before she had her head in my lap, licking and sucking my cock as I sped way too fast down the highway. Eventually I gave up on driving, and we pulled over into a parking lot, away from the street lamps. There, she climbed into the driver's seat on top of me, and we fucked like high school kids sneaking around behind our parents' backs. She rode me right there in the car until the windows fogged up, until I bucked up against her and came in her again, filling her tight, sexy, waxed perfect pussy with my cum.

When we finished, she slid back into the passenger seat, and we started to drive again, but this time, it was me reaching over to slide my hand up her skirt, half my attention on the road and the other half fixed on her pussy. I managed to make her come three more times before we reached our apartment, getting her wet as hell as she writhed against my hand in the passenger seat, practically fucking my fingers she was so hungry for me.

Back home, we barely made it inside the door before we were on each other again. I pinned her against the door, knelt right there in our living room and ate her out while she leaned back against the door, her hands buried in my hair.

And don't even get me started on how distracting showering with her after all of that was...

But now? Now, early morning light is streaming through my windows, and she's cradled against my chest, her head rising and falling in time with my breath, her eyes closed, lids flickering as she dreams quietly. Now, I don't even want to move for fear of breaking this spell, disturbing her, shattering the illusion that I'm able to maintain, if only for this moment, in the wee hours before reality crashes in and the real world wakes up.

For now, for this one small shared moment, I can allow myself to pretend she's mine. And the thought makes me tighten my arms around her, protective, possessive. I don't want to let her go, not for anything. I want to keep her here, safe and protected. I want to wake up like this every morning, to the scent of her hair, and the sight of her sleeping peacefully.

I lean back against the pillows and just lie here, enjoying this moment. Holding onto it for as long as it will last.

Finally, I feel her stir against me, hear the soft murmur she always makes when she wakes up first thing in the morning, like she's confused and a little upset at being dragged out of her dreamland.

I know exactly how that feels.

She sighs and nestles closer to me, turning to kiss my chest once, twice, before she rests her cheek on my pec, right over my heart. I wonder if she can hear how fast it's started to hammer, now that she's moving beside me, stirring desires in me again. My cock was already getting hard when I first woke—now it's a rock already.

I catch her glancing down at it and laughing under her breath.

"Someone woke up hungry," she comments, sliding a hand over my stomach, tracing her way down to my cock, to let her fingertips trail lightly up the sides.

"You have no idea," I murmur into her hair, before I plant a long kiss on the crown of her head.

She chuckles softly and glances up at me, then shifts around, leaning up to bend over me and kiss my cheek, my jawline, my neck. "I might have some idea," she whispers. "You aren't the only one who has dirty dreams whenever we spend our nights fucking in restaurants and cars on the side of the highway..."

"Hmm, you had bad dreams again?" I run my hands over her waist, her bare ass. Squeeze lightly. "You'll have to tell me about them."

"I wouldn't say bad," she says, eyes sparkling. "Though definitely dirty. It involved you and me and a lot of toys... and possibly some rope as well, plus this bed..."

I grin at her. "I do own some silk rope, you know. We could easily turn this bed into something a bit more interesting."

She laughs, breathy, and kisses me on the mouth this time, slow and soft. "Mm, looks like we have our plans for tonight settled, then."

"Definitely," I agree in a murmur. "You'll have to wear that dress again, though."

"Really?" She juts her lip out in a faint pout. "Because I had another outfit in mind, actually. This little maid outfit I bought a few months ago..."

"Never mind," I concede. "That will do just fine."

She laughs and rolls her eyes, and I take advantage of her momentary distraction to grab her and flip her over underneath me, pinning her onto the bed. "In the meantime," I announce, "I have this morning wood that needs taken care of. And you, my dear..." I run one hand between her legs to find her, as I could have predicted, already wet with want. "You have a bad case of naughty dreams that needs to be taken care of."

"Oh, please do," she replies, arching up into my hand, grinning until I start to stroke her enough to wipe the grin off her face and replace it with something else—that mouth-partly-open, eyes-glazed look she always gets when she's distracted by pleasure, lost in a sea of it.

Needless to say, we take our time getting up this morning. By the time we finally drag ourselves out of the bedroom, we're both running a bit late for the office. Neither of us really minds, though. I think the fact that this is her second time ovulating, her second chance at this—and possibly our last chance at being together like this—has us both throwing caution to the wind. If this is the only time I'll get to spend holed up in my bedroom fucking Rina as often and as much as I can? Well, I'm damn sure going to

take advantage of every minute that I can.

As for me, it's on my mind still. The deadline. I can't stop thinking about how it will go. As soon as I know she's pregnant, as soon as I know she got what she truly wants from this agreement, that's when I'm going to go for it. That's when I'm going to tell her how I feel.

But as we head into work, hands entangled all the way down the elevator until we reach the ground floor and we leap apart like we've been scalded, playing it cool in front of the front desk clerk, it just makes my chest feel that much tighter, my head that much heavier.

Because I don't want this. I don't want to sneak around. I want to be able to tell everyone what I feel for her. I want to proclaim it to the world.

I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up this facade...

"You two."

Rina and I freeze in the tiny kitchen at work, hands wrapped around the handles of our mugs. We weren't doing anything—not this time, anyway. We were just having a normal conversation, me asking how her workday was going, her asking if I've managed to make up for my slacking to my boss yet. But now we're both acting like guilty kids, caught with our hands in the a cookie jar, as Lacy and Chris lean in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed in almost identical postures.

"Yes?" Rina asks, recovering her senses first. Me, I'm still on panic mode on the inside.

Do they know?

"We have a bone to pick with you," Lacy says, eyes narrowed, and my stomach sinks through the floor.

Oh fuck, they definitely know.

"What's that?" I ask, keeping my tone level and steady. If they do know, I'm going to make them say it to our faces, not dance around the point. It's about time this all came out, anyway. This is what we get for going crazy. Acting careless. Trying to do crazy shit like messing around in public—what if someone at that restaurant recognized us? What if someone saw us parked on the highway, going at it like teenagers?

Chris swings the door to the kitchen shut behind him, and I exchange a sideways glance with Rina, my heart aching at the panic written all over her face. Dammit. I told her we'd keep this a secret, that we'd hide it from everyone at work. If Lacy and Chris guessed about us, then I failed Rina.