“Please, Shepard, I want you right now. Please,” I beg.
“You couldn’t stop touching it. Touching your tummy, feeling me deep, deep, so fucking deep in your body,” he keeps going, ignoring my plea.
“Please, Shepard,” I try again.
“But you wanna know the best part?”
“W-what?”
“The best part is that we’ll have a baby. And she’ll look exactly like you.” He smiles slightly, as if imagining it. “She’ll have red hair and freckles. And I’ll teach her to love them. I’ll tell her she’s the most beautiful girl in the whole world because she takes after her mommy. I’ll teach her to play soccer too. So she can drop kick a ball into any boy’s head who dares to come near her.”
At this, I go completely still. My heart clenches and clenches and words are at the tip of my tongue that I want a boy and I want him to look like his daddy. But all I do is call out, “Shepard, you?—"
“So tell me why I should give this back to you when you love being filled with me. My dick, my tongue, my cum and my fucking baby.”
“Because you can’t…”
I catch myself before saying the L word. But he opens his eyes and looks at me like he heard it. He stares at me for a beat, his gaze gaining focus and some type of dark energy gaining momentum within him. And before I can take my next breath, he’s on me. He all but tackles me to the ground, our mouths fused together. And I’m so delirious with lust, with love, with unspoken wishes and broken dreams that I latch onto him. Latch onto everything he’s giving me.
I feel him spreading my legs, pulling my panties down before yanking my tampon out with the string and pushing inside of me. It’s a good thing he has his mouth fused with mine because the scream that erupts from my mouth, my chest, my heart, my very soul would’ve shattered the windowpanes. It would’ve shattered the roof.
And then he’s fucking me like a desperate man. A man hanging onto the very last thread of sanity and life. The one who can’t decide whether he wants to hold on or give in. Maybe he thinks jumping to his death is a better choice because he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, but then he’s clinging to life because that’s all he knows. If he asked me, I’d tell him. I’d tell him that jumping to death is glorious. Life is overrated. Living is overrated when you can let the thing you love kill you. I would tell him that I’ve already jumped to my death and I love it.
I love him.
I love the kind of a wreck he makes me. I’d tell him, let me make you a wreck too.
Just as the thought occurs to me, he comes. He jerks inside of me, giving me his hot and thick cum, and I’m not far behind. I’m coming over his cock that’s still pulsing inside me. And for asecond I know such peace that I think I’ve really died. Or maybe I’m dreaming because I have a stream of consciousness going through my head. A litany of thoughts and half-realized wishes that you only ever get when your mind is sleepy and sluggish.
He heard what I said—or didn’t say—and still came inside me. He still didn’t give me back my pills when he knew what I wanted from him. He knew my condition. I wanted his love in exchange for his baby.
So all of this can only mean one thing, right?
That he lo…
But then I feel something on my tongue. I feel his fingers squeezing my mouth open and then placing something on my tongue. I blink my eyes open and see him looking down at me with dark, swirling gaze. A second later, he descends on my mouth, and I feel him pushing that tiny thing into my mouth, making me swallow it.
My birth control pill. Only it feels like poison.
Chapter Thirty
I’ve always thoughtIsadora is the most beautiful girl in the world. Her hair’s the kind of shiny every girl wants, and her eyes are so big and luminous. Plus her dressing sense is killer. It’s a mix of chic and hobo with tons of frills and loose-fitting dresses that also somehow compliment her slim figure.
Like the one she’s wearing at tonight’s party. She has a red-colored dress with thin straps and that sits snugly across her chest but flows down like a river around her hips. She has it paired with hunter green high heeled suede boots. Super classy and fun. I love it. I think I should ask her where she got the dress and maybe she can also tell me about those boots. Mostly, I think I should congratulate her on her engagement. Because I don’t think a girl engaged to the love of her life should look sad.
I understand why and it makes my chest ache. I don’t know her story or majority of what went down between Stellan and her while she was with Shepard. But I know for a long time there, people were wary of her. Callie, who is friendly to everyone, was wary of her too. Not that she let it show but it was hard not to feel the awkward vibes. Everyone thought she was coming betweentwo brothers and the fact that Stellan doesn’t show at family events anymore either has got to make her feel like an outsider.
If I’m being honest here, on some level I thought that too. That she was driving a wedge between Stellan and him. Regardless of it being true or not, she’s with the twin she’s supposed to be with. Holding what happened against her is like holding my lying and hiding things against me. I wouldn’t want that for myself so how can I, in all good conscience, not try to make her feel welcome. I’m a new addition to this family too, right? Just like her.
Besides, how can I expecthimto make peace with these things when I don’t try to make mine? And this could be my opportunity.
We’re at a mansion turned into a club kind of thing, complete with open floors, French doors and a back garden. The lighting is dim, and the floor is crowded with not only the team members of both teams, ours and the Chicago FC but also their better halves. Kids aren’t allowed for obvious reasons, but the team had sitters available for tonight. All the girls are sitting together in a corner with drinks in their hand, chatting, laughing and getting excited for the game tomorrow.
I’m excited too. I’ve never been to an actual sports game but more than that I can’t wait to watch him play live. Of course, I can’t wear his jersey like I know Tempest is planning to wear Ledger’s. Callie wants to wear one too, that features both her brothers’ numbers, but I don’t think Reed is onboard. He doesn’t want ‘his wife’ to wear anyone else’s number than his. Not that he plays soccer anymore; he used to in high school but ‘that’s not important.’ Quotation marks because that’s how Callie is telling the story, meaning his words and not hers.
As entertaining as all of this is, I’m looking for an opening with Isadora to make my approach. She’s thrust in a corner with a pink drink in her hand as she listens to the conversationaround her, contributing here and there and smiling. While everyone is making her feel included, I still think she isn’t all that comfortable. I wonder if I can help with that. As soon as Callie and Tempest leave to go to the restroom and Wyn gets busy with some of the other wives, I make a beeline for her.
As I sit beside her and smile, I really hope it doesn’t look like an ambush. “Hey.”
