by Ashley Munoz
“Well let’s take a look. Go ahead and strip down.” He turned toward his computer, grabbed a gown from under the sink, and held it toward me.
I took it then began to do as he said. As often as I had stripped in front of men, I always felt so exposed when I did it in front of Dr. Kline. The first time, he’d just assured me it was policy and I’d get used to it. Still felt strange to me.
I lifted my shirt, unclasped my bra, and shed my shorts and panties, folding them all in a small pile. Once naked, I pushed my arms through the front of the gown and returned to my spot on the table.
“All set?” He smiled at me, rolling on his little stool toward me.
I nodded, feeling my heart beat a little faster. I loved getting to hear my baby’s heartbeat. It was my favorite part of these appointments.
“Let’s check your blood pressure first.” He rolled over to me with a blood pressure cuff, placing it over my arm then tilting my wrist until his finger rested over my pulse. His face was so close to mine since I was still sitting up with my feet dangling off the table. “You’re definitely getting sun. I can see you have new freckles.” He smirked, tracing a small patch of skin along my nose.
I laughed, ducking my head while he began to pump the blood pressure cuff. It squeezed tight for a second before releasing.
The sound of Velcro being ripped apart filled the room while he jotted down my vitals. “Looks good, still healthy and strong, no worries there.”
“Good.” I let out a sigh and leaned back against the pillow.
“Let’s check these next.” He opened my gown by pulling on the little string that kept it closed in the front and palmed my breast. “Any pain here?”
I shook my head as his thumb rubbed over my nipple. Thanks to the frigid air, it had pebbled. I hissed as he repeated the process. When he inspected my chest, it was that same odd feeling I used to have as a little girl when my father’s doctor would examine me. I had to remind myself I was grown and was probably just nervous about being inspected by a good-looking doctor. Every pregnant woman went through this.
“Sorry, guess they’re sensitive, huh?” He grabbed the other breast and did the same thing until both his hands were full and his thumbs were running over my peaked nipples.
I hated that when he rubbed them, I felt my core clench, my thighs nearly squeezing together to hold off on feeling aroused. “Yeah, really sensitive.”
He did the same thing with the other breast until he was finally skimming his cold palm down the expanse of my stomach, pulling the gown up, and scrunching it under my breasts, leaving my entire bottom half open and available for him to see. I always noticed how his eyes caught on the triangle of bare skin between my thighs. Maybe it was in my head, but it seemed like his gaze heated every time.
“Ready to listen?” He moved back toward his counter then returned with the plastic bottle and little machine used to hear my baby’s heart. He squirted an ample amount of gel onto my stomach, some of it dripping down into my lap.
I nodded, holding the fabric of the gown over my breasts while the whooshing, beating sound filled the room. He kept the small wand there for a second, looking at his watch, then smiled again.
“Sounds great.” It was always over far too soon, my little light snuffing into nothing within seconds. I once asked if he could let me listen for a little longer, but he’d chided me, saying he had to keep things moving. I understood, but that little wallop sound was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in my entire life, and all I wanted was to hold on to it forever.
Walking back to the counter, he grabbed a small towel and began to clean up my stomach, moving it down into the place the lube had fallen.
“Oops, looks like we got some down here.” He swiped at my pubic bone with his fingers, covered by the rag, but the fact that he was so close to my center made my thighs clench together. This plus the nipple situation, and my hormones were officially out of control. “Okay, let’s check you. Feet up, and you can lower the gown.”
I did as he said, putting my feet up in the stirrups and lowering the gown so it covered my belly and lap. Even though his view now was of my entire ass, at least I felt covered.
“You’re going to feel pressure here for a second,” he warned while his gloved hand pressed at my entrance and then began to push in further. “So, how are the hormones? I know you’re single…has that been difficult to manage?”
I watched the ceiling tiles while he navigated my cervix, or whatever it was he was after inside my vagina. “It’s been horrible. I can’t seem to get relief from anything that I try.”
“Hmmm, interesting.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but since being near Juan, things were exponentially worse.
“Well, there’s a little stimulation trick I can show you, if you want?”
I looked down at him; his face was down, watching what he was doing. He must have found what he was looking for because he withdrew his hand, saying everything was in the right spot.
“What kind of trick?” I felt that same feeling, like nails on a chalkboard, like I was doing something wrong. Doctors talked about sexual things in front of couples all the time; this probably felt weird because I was all alone.
“Well…I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I can show you if you want.”
I considered it for a second, and then I thought of how hot and bothered Juan had left me the other night. I wouldn’t survive if that kept happening, but at the same time…the doctor showing me something like that seemed odd. I considered all the weird shit they’d done to me since my first appointment…maybe him showing me a technique wouldn’t be that far off.
With my voice shaky and my insides feeling like I was filling them with lead, I said, “Okay.”
The sun was a healing elixir I couldn’t get enough of. I rested on the inflatable pool floatie with my face tipped back and sunglasses perched on my face. I had connected my phone to an outdoor speaker, and “Montana” by Daya danced along the water, forcing my wayward anxiety to settle and calm.
That is until a shadow fell over me, blocking the sun.
“Did you forget you’re pregnant?” Juan’s velvet voice boomed from somewhere near the edge of the pool.
I shoved my shades up, resting them on my hairline. “Excuse me?”
Juan crouched, his powerful legs straining against his denim-clad thighs. The crisp white t-shirt on his firm chest, a stark contrast to his mocha skin, made my mouth go dry. It was worse when I noticed how good he looked with his raven hair swept back and pieces falling into his face while a pair of dark frames covered his whiskey eyes. I loved Juan’s eyes.
One night, while drunk on the stars and the beauty of New York’s skyline, I had wondered what those eyes would look like on a baby girl and what kind of dad he’d be. I’d allowed myself thirty minutes to think rogue thoughts that would never do me any good, but still I thought them. I imagined what it would be like to be his wife and what kind of life it would be to have a husband who coached hockey for our kids or who built forts—or did anything my own father had not. The closest I’d ever come to having that was when Jakob had thrown a blanket over two chairs pulled together. It was during a thunderstorm, and I couldn’t stop crying.
He seemed to know exactly what to do to calm me down after tears stained my clothes and my throat had gone raw from calling for my father. I learned later that we’d experienced a hurricane, and I’d had no idea. I had just known it was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced in my life.
Juan flicked his fingers toward me. “You’re spilling out of that scrap of fabric—it’s barely covering your cunt, and your tits are one harsh wind away from showing.” Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets but kept his eyes angled down at me. “So I’m wondering if you forgot that you gain weight with pregnancy…or are you just trying to show off?”
Since meeting Juan, I’d learned that my chest was an active volcano, the blood in my veins a fault line
.
White-hot heat hit my chest as I processed his words, his arrogance, the fact that he’d never speak to my sister this way. He made me feel like I was worthless while making me feel like the only person to have ever captured his attention. For some reason, he brought out the worst in me. He brought out the girl who had hardened over time, the one who occasionally walked into the woods with a loaded gun.
He prodded me, knowing under this faux wool, a snout and maw of teeth ached for the taste of blood.
Instead of answering him, I sat up, exiting my raft with a dip into cool water, submerging myself completely in my effort to calm the fire in my lungs. Once my feet hit the bottom of the pool and I stood, my arms went back, my fingers tugging at the bow I’d tied at my spine.
As I crested each step and pulled myself free of the water, I let the sopping top fall to the cement, knowing my breasts were on full display to the asshole across the pool. I didn’t care. He wanted to make me feel dirty, like I should be ashamed. I wouldn’t give him the chance.
Once I cleared the steps, my fingers pushed down the material of my bottoms until I was stepping out of each leg.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” Juan’s flat tone floated to me as I picked up a fuzzy towel. My body shook with the need to cover myself, but I wouldn’t. Not yet.
I walked, drying my hair, leaving my nude body on display.
“You broke a rule…so I broke one.”
“We agreed that I could be honest,” he snapped, his hands out of his pockets, one of them blazing a trail through his hair, the other clenching at his side.
“You said you wouldn’t be mean. If you’re going to belittle me and make me feel like a whore, I’ll save you the time and be one.”
He smirked, his lips curving up in a delicious way. “Does that mean you’ll get on your knees for me?”
His eyes were still covered, but I could feel the heat from him as thick and intense as a furnace. I was just a toy to him, though, a fascinating hamster now stuck in his cage, a pet he could poke and prod as much as he pleased.
“Is that what you want?” I stepped closer, dragging a finger down my chest, feeling my skin pebble against the cooling air. “For me to pull your thick cock into my mouth and suck?”
Juan’s throat bobbed as he stared down at me.
I stepped closer. “You want to fist my hair while you slam your hips forward and shove your dick so far down my throat that I choke?”
Heat emanated from him, his jaw ticking, and I knew if I looked down, there’d be a bulge in his jeans.
Whispering, I said, “Because I’d never get on my knees for you…and I’d never allow you to touch me that way. You wouldn’t even know what to do with a girl like me, Juan. I’d ruin you.”
I walked off, finally tugging the towel around my torso, tucking in the sides. My fingers shook as I headed toward the sliding doors and took the stairs one at a time. My eyes burned with unshed tears, with fury at the one man who seemed to both light me on fire and burn me to ash.
Once inside my room, I showered and dressed, taking the time to blow-dry my hair and apply my makeup. I had realized long ago that my veins were black, my heart an inky stain, and my very blood a knot of ebony. Hatred seeped out of every pore as I tugged my cell up and entered the text that would seal my fate. The strength I’d found just one day prior had left, gone with the pin prick to my pride that Juan had delivered.
Me: I want to see you. I don’t want to talk…just need a release.
I set the phone back on the counter for untold minutes, hating the burn in my chest. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a doll, a tool to be tugged free from a cage whenever needed…a hollow instrument with no dreams or aspirations. I was empty, and while I had grown used to the numbness I usually felt during hookups, now as I rubbed the palm of my hand over my swelling bump, there was only heartache.
I stared at my reflection, my golden locks glossy and straight, my lips a soft pink, and my eyes guarded with fake lashes and dressed up with dark tones that made my blue eyes pop. A single tear traveled down my cheek as I stared at my ample cleavage and tan legs. The dress I’d chosen was short, even without a bump; now, it was miniscule, but I didn’t want Holden to have to work hard for what I needed from him.
A text came in as I grabbed my purse.
Holden: Come over…I’m alone tonight.
For some strange reason, I wanted him to deny me, wanted him to tell me we had to establish boundaries for our co-parenting to work in the future…but with that same desire, I also knew he never would and I would be doing this all alone. Until my father finds me.
Swiping at my face, I turned on my heel and exited my room.
Chapter Eleven
The air was thick with something spicy, making my stomach grumble with hunger pangs. I pushed past the urge to ask what Juan had cooked. I didn’t even know he could cook, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t stay there while he treated me the way I saw myself. It felt like I was paper thin and somehow had found the one person in life who could see through my translucent skin and knew my deepest sins. I hated who I had become, but then again, my entire life was made up of death and denial…there was no way I’d confront the monumental mind fuck that Juan Hernandez was.
With one hand on the door, I was suddenly stopped with a warm hand on my wrist.
“Where are you going?” Juan’s question was soft, almost pleading.
I knew if I turned to catch his expression, it would melt part of the ice I’d let expand in my chest.
Facing away from him, I answered, “Out.”
“That’s not going to work for us. I need to know that you’re safe.” He tugged so I’d face him. Although I resisted, it did nothing to keep him away. “Where are you going?” he tried again, and this time his tone was so gentle that my eyes rose to his.
Whiskey on a sunny day, daring me to answer him…challenging me to lie.
“Holden,” I whispered, wetting my lips. My mouth was too dry, my heart too pathetic.
I expected Juan to scoff, let me go, and make me feel the way he had so many times. But he surprised me by tugging me forward until I was following him, his hand covering mine.
“Juan, did you hear me? What are you—”
“I heard you, I’m just not letting you go.” He stopped at the stove, where he started stirring what looked like chicken. It smelled so good that my mouth watered and my stomach clenched. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, and that was…what time was it? I looked around, noticing the clock on the microwave indicated it was past six.
“Why do you care? I—”
“When did you last eat?” Juan cut in, his gaze on the sizzling chicken.
“I…” I pulled at my hand, but he didn’t let me go. “Lunch time.” I finally gave in.
“So that was around noon…have you had a snack?” He let me go, but his warm arms came around me, caging me against the counter with my back to his chest. There was a wooden cutting board in front of me along with a sharp knife and three limes.
He lifted my right hand and forced a small green fruit into it.
“Roll this.”
I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling its weight while trying to look up to catch his gaze. What did he mean by ‘roll it’? I had never rolled a lime before; was that a normal thing? Perplexed and slightly intrigued, I did as he said and laid the lime on the wooden slab, making my palm flat over it and then rolling the round citrus.
“More pressure, like this.” His hand swallowed mine, adding pressure as the limes rolled into the wood. I allowed his fingers to stay on top of mine while we worked all three. Soft music played in the living room, something with a heavy beat, making the feel of Juan’s arms around me and the heat of his breath on my neck an intoxicating mixture.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
Juan shifted behind me, slightly moving to the right, letting me out of his cocoon. I stood there, unsure why I suddenly felt so cold and confused. Wasn�
�t I headed over to Holden’s house?
“My parents, aunts, my grandparents—everyone cooks. I’ve been around it my entire life.” He flipped the chrome burner to the left, killing the flame. The pan was lifted above our heads while he shifted toward two empty plates. I hadn’t even noticed them.
He carefully poured a small portion of cubed chicken onto each plate, which already had three round tortillas laid out.
“Can you quarter those limes for me?” He set the pan back on the burner and headed toward a small bowl of diced onion and another with something green inside.
“Uh…” I looked down at the cutting board and eyed the knife next to it. Heat flared and infused my cheeks as I realized I had no idea what he meant. I assumed he meant to cut them into four pieces, but was there a specific way to do that…or…?
Grabbing the knife in my right hand and the lime in my left, I wet my lips and aligned the blade to cut down the middle. I knew Juan watched me, which only made things a thousand times worse. I was almost twenty-one and had no idea how to quarter a lime. My face warmed as I paused, staring down at the two halves in front of me. I had baked things and even dabbled in cooking a million times, but I had never really made anything authentic.
“Now cut each piece in half again,” Juan quietly murmured from the counter across the kitchen. His eyes weren’t even on me, which made breathing a bit easier. How embarrassing. He’d been cooking his whole life, likely dated women who knew how to cook…then there was me, a spoiled entitled princess.
I cut the following two limes, hating myself with each swipe of the knife.
“Here,” I whispered, cradling the pieces in my hands and walking toward the plates. I didn’t even know what we were doing with them.
Juan turned and gave me a dazzling smile, one that stilled my erratic heart rate.
“Perfect. Now come sit down and eat with me.” He steered me by the elbow, helping me sit on the stool.
