by Lauren Rowe
“What’s the rule, Playboy?” I whisper, skimming my lips against his, sliding my hand up and down his thickening shaft.
Josh smiles into my lips. “Ask yourself, ‘Is what I’m about to say more or less likely to get me a blowjob?’” He presses his pelvis forward and his hard-on presses emphatically into my palm. “‘If the answer’s yes, then proceed—and if not, then shut the fuck up.’”
I nod slowly. “So, based on that one simple rule, what do you think you should do right now?”
Josh smiles. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Give that man a salami,” I say. I touch the tip of his erection and swirl my finger around and around. “And to answer your question,” I whisper. “Yes, I’m gonna be Stubborn Kat about this. Surprise, surprise.” I shoot him a naughty smile. “But I truly don’t think you’ll mind.”
Josh nods, but, smartly, doesn’t say a word.
“Congratulations, baby,” I whisper, biting my lip. “I do believe you just bagged yourself a babe.”
Josh’s hard-on twitches in my hand.
With a happy giggle, I lift the sheet and begin kissing my way from Josh’s muscled chest all the way down to his massive hard-on. After sucking on his tip like a lollipop for a brief moment, the anticipation is too much for me to bear—I gotta have him. I slide his full length into my mouth, all the frickin’ way—eliciting an excited sound from the other side of the sheet—and then I proceed to give the love of my life the most enthusiastic and heartfelt Katherine Ulla Morgan Ultimate Blowjob Experience the world has ever seen.
One Hundred Four
Kat
“Wow, it’s nice,” Josh says, pulling his Lamborghini to a stop in front of my parents’ house.
I’ve always been proud of my childhood home—it’s the place everyone always wanted to hang out when I was growing up—but now that I’m looking at it through Josh’s eyes, I’m realizing the entire house probably would fit inside the garage of Josh’s childhood home.
“This house is right out of a movie,” Josh says.
“What movie would that be, babe?” I ask.
“You know, every movie where a suburban high-schooler throws a raging kegger when his parents go out of town.”
“Oh, I think I’ve seen that one,” I say. “Does everyone get trashed and start jumping into the pool, fully clothed?”
“Yeah. And then hijinks ensues.”
I giggle. “That’s right. I’m pretty sure Ryan was in that movie at least ten times in high school, always playing the guy throwing the party.”
“I think I’m gonna love Ryan.”
“Oh, you will—he’s your spirit animal.”
Josh chuckles. “Ryan Morgan’s my spirit animal?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Is he gonna be here tonight?”
“Yep. Everyone but Keane—he had to work. Oh, and by the way, don’t mention the whole male-stripper thing to my parents. They have no idea Keane’s become Seattle’s answer to Magic Mike.”
“Would they care if they knew?”
I shrug. “Keane seems to think my dad would be really disappointed in him. But I told him, ‘No, Peen, Dad would have to have actual expectations in the first place in order to be disappointed.’” I snort.
“Well, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”
I chuckle. “When you meet Keane, you’ll understand. He’s just... Keane.” I touch Josh’s arm. “So are you ready to go in and face the firing squad?”
“Why you gotta say that?” Josh asks. “I’m nervous enough, babe.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Just teasing. They’re gonna love you.”
“Just do me a favor. Don’t let it slip about the baby tonight, okay? Just like we agreed. First time out, I want your family to get to know me as Josh, not as The Guy Who Knocked Up Their Precious Baby Girl.”
“Babe, we already agreed to keep mum—my lips are sealed.”
“Kat, your lips are never sealed—you’re the biggest blabbermouth I know, bar none.”
I’m genuinely aghast at Josh’s characterization of me. “No, I’m not—I’m a steel safe.”
Josh hoots with laughter. “Kat, you blabbed to Sarah not five minutes after you said we should wait ’til after the wedding to say anything, and then you told Dax right after you said we were gonna wait to tell your family until after you’re showing.”
“Well, yeah, but Sarah doesn’t count as blabbing—telling Sarah’s the same thing as telling myself. And Dax doesn’t count as telling my family—because he’s Dax.” I roll my eyes. “Trust me, I’m a steel safe, babe—a locked vault.”
“Oh really? Well, guess who called me this afternoon out of the blue to congratulate me on our ‘little Cinnabon in the oven’?”
I bite my lip, too afraid to give myself away by venturing a guess—but I’m pretty sure there’s only one person in the world who’d ever refer to a baby as a “little Cinnabon in the oven.”
“Henn,” Josh says, confirming what I’m thinking. “He called to congratulate me and ask why the hell I didn’t tell him myself.”
I make a face that says, “Oops.”
“When did you tell Hannah?” Josh asks, scowling at me.
I flash Josh my most charming smile. “Okay, now, see, telling Hannah wasn’t my fault. Hannah and I went to lunch today and she was asking me about Golden Kat PR, hinting about how much she wants to be a part of it, and I didn’t want to string her along into thinking I was gonna be starting my company any time soon as originally planned. So I told her, ‘Hey, I can only handle birthing one baby at a time—and this year, my one-and-only baby’s gonna be the accidental Faraday that’s currently growing inside my uterus.’”
Josh shakes his head. I can’t read his expression well enough to gauge if he’s genuinely upset with me.
“Was Henny pissed he heard the news from Hannah and not you?” I ask.
“No, you know Henn. He’s always chill. I told him I didn’t tell him about the baby because you and I had solemnly agreed to keep it quiet until you’re showing.” He glares at me, but his eyes are sparkling. “Little did I know the ‘steel safe’ was out blabbing to everyone and their uncle about our little ‘Cinnabon in the oven.’”
“Oh, speaking of which, have you told your uncle?”
“Uh, no. Because we’d agreed to keep things quiet, you blabbermouth.”
I laugh. “So what did Henn say?”
“He said every time he sees our kid he’s gonna wonder if he personally witnessed it being conceived.”
I groan. “God, that was so embarrassing.”
Josh laughs. “He also said he predicts an entire minivan filled with screaming kids in my near future.”
My entire body jolts at the thought. “Slow down, High Speed,” I say, my heart in my throat.
“Oh, and he said I’m the luckiest bastard in the whole wide world.” He touches the cleft in my chin. “Which is the truth.”
I blush like a schoolgirl on a first date.
“And, hey, Miss Steel Safe, guess who called me right after Henn?” Josh asks, mock-glaring at me.
I hold my breath, trying to remember if there’s anyone else I’ve blabbed to besides Sarah, Dax, and Hannah. Nope. Not a soul. Only the girls at my yoga class, but they don’t really count. Oh, and the UPS guy—but only because I’d ordered a bunch of maternity leggings and he mentioned his wife is pregnant—so what was I supposed to do—not tell him? Oh, and the barista at my favorite Starbucks, of course—but that was only because I’m no longer drinking caffeine and my usual barista noticed I’d ordered a decaf, so that one’s not my fault, either. Oh, and Sarah’s mom. But that was only because I went to see the new additions she’s making to Gloria’s House (thanks to the finder’s fee money she received after we took down The Club), and Gloria said I looked “awfully pretty”—so what was I supposed to do then—not tell her I’m pregnant? I scour my memory, trying to think if I’ve told anyone else—but, nope, I think that’s it.
&
nbsp; Oh, Josh is staring at me, apparently expecting me to guess who called him after Henn.
I shrug. “I have no idea who called you,” I say. “I haven’t told anyone else.”
“Reed,” Josh says. “Because, apparently, Henn called Reed right after Hannah told him the news.”
“He did? Oh.”
“Yeah, he did. Which is so unlike Henn, I was shocked—if you wanna see what a real steel safe looks like, look no further than Peter Hennessey—so I asked Reed what Henn had said to him, and do you know what Reed said?”
I shake my head.
“He told me that when you told Hannah our baby news, Hannah asked if you were keeping things on the down-low for a while—because she was fully prepared to keep our secret and respect our privacy—but you said, and I quote, ‘Not at all! I don’t care who knows about it! Blab away, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken! I’m bursting at the seams for the whole world to know!’”
I bite my lip. “I said that? I don’t think I said that.”
“Well, either you said it or Hannah’s lying. Which is it?”
“Hannah’s lying. Definitely. She’s a big, fat liar. Actually, there’s something you should know about Hannah: she’s a pathological liar. Poor thing truly can’t discern the difference between truth and fiction. It’s such a shame. She’s a really sweet girl otherwise.”
Josh is clearly suppressing a smile. “Huh. Pretty weird you set Henn up with a known pathological liar. That wasn’t very nice of you.”
I shrug, trying to suppress my smirk.
“And even weirder you wanted her to be your right-hand-woman at Golden Kat PR. That sounds like horrible judgment on your part, PG.”
“Well, you know, I was hoping to rehabilitate her—kill her with kindness until she saw the error of her ways.”
Josh chuckles.
“So you’re not mad at me for being a blabbermouth?” I ask.
“No, if you wanna blab, go ahead. All I ask is that you tell me first so my best friends aren’t calling me up, congratulating me on my forthcoming child, and I’m sitting there like a flop-dick with my thumb up my ass.”
“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t keep it to myself. Now that I’m finally through the first trimester and feeling so much better, I’m bursting to tell people.”
Josh grabs my hand. “You’re so fucking adorable, Kat.”
I grin. “So what did Reed say? Was he shocked?”
“To put it mildly,” Josh says. “But when I told him I’m starting to get sort of excited about our little kumquat, he was really happy for me—for us.”
“Lime.”
“Huh?”
“The baby’s the size of a lime now.” I pat my stomach. “No longer a kumquat.”
Josh makes a face that melts me. He touches my stomach. “No matter how big the baby gets, it will always be the-kumquat-inside-the-Kumquat to me.”
My heart leaps. “You told Reed you’re getting sort of excited about the kumquat?”
Josh beams a beautiful smile at me. “Yeah.”
“And are you?”
“Babe, what the hell have I been doing this whole past week with you, shopping for cribs and diaper changing tables and fucking onesies and maternity leggings if I’m not starting to get at least a little bit excited about the-kumquat-inside-the-Kumquat?”
I shrug. “It still feels nice to hear you say it.”
Josh grabs my hand, his eyes sparkling. “Well that settles it, babe—you’ve definitely got a vagina.”
“I sure hope so,” I say. “Because pushing a baby out my peen would really hurt.”
“Oh my God. Gah.” He shudders with phantom pain and puts his forehead on his steering wheel. “Don’t say that. Just the thought.”
I giggle. “Okay, Playboy. You ready to go into Morgan Manor now?” I look at my watch. “Oh, we’re still a bit early—it’s ten to seven. My mom said to come between seven and seven-thirty.”
Josh takes a deep breath. “Good. That gives me a little more time to prepare mentally.”
“Prepare mentally? To meet my family? Babe, they’re gonna love you. Don’t worry, they’re predisposed to love you because I love you and I told them so. I told them I love you, I love you, I love you—and I do.”
“But you said the same thing about Garrett-Asswipe-Bennett and Colby hated that fucker.”
I roll my eyes. “No, Colby hated Garrett-Asswipe-Bennett because he was an asswipe, and you’re not. Plus, I didn’t actually love Garrett—I just thought I did because I was young and stupid and blinded by hormones. And, anyway, regardless, I never told Garrett I loved him and I certainly never, ever told my family ‘I love him, I love him, I love him,’ the way I’ve told them about you.” I touch Josh’s thigh. “Because I’ve never love, love, loved anyone before you—and my family will easily be able to see that.”
Josh’s smile could light the night sky. “I love you, Kat.”
I sigh happily. “It’ll never get old hearing you say that.”
“Hey, you know what I just realized?” Josh says. “After all your blabbing, I bet someone’s gonna say something about the baby to your parents at Jonas and Sarah’s wedding—definitely not the way we’d want them to find out.”
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Good point.” I twist my mouth. “Shoot. I guess that means I’d better tell them before the wedding.” I grimace. “Which means I gotta tell them this week.” My stomach flips over at the thought.
“Yeah, but just don’t do it tonight, okay?” Josh says. “And let’s not tell them you’ve moved in with me, either. After they get to know me a bit, that’s when we’ll hit them with all our fantastic news. No sense making them hate me the first time they meet me.”
“They’re not gonna hate you when they find out we’re shacking up—and they’re not gonna hate you when they find out you knocked me up, either. They’ll handle all of it with grace.”
Intellectually, I know I’m telling Josh the truth and not just placating him—my parents will most certainly deal with whatever I throw at them, like they always do. But that doesn’t mean my stomach’s not clenched tightly right now, imagining myself telling them I’m pregnant. The truth is, no matter how much my family has always treated me like one of the guys in some ways, I’m still my parents’ baby girl and my brothers’ Kum Shot—and there’s no doubt me becoming an unintentional mother isn’t the future my family members envisioned for me.
I look out the window of the Lamborghini for a moment, gazing at my parents’ house, lost in my thoughts.
“Hey,” Josh says softly, touching my arm. “You want me to be there when you tell your parents about the baby this week?”
“Nope. It should be just me and them.” I let out a slow exhale, suddenly wracked with anxiety. “It’ll be fine.”
Josh takes a deep breath and mimics my slow and anxious exhale.
“Wow, the two of us are really not living up to our nicknames right now,” I say. “Come on. Let’s pull ourselves together, Playboy—time to get this party started.”
Josh lets out a loud puff of air. “Maybe I should have driven the Beemer instead of the Lamborghini? You know, gone for something a little less ostentatious?”
“Babe, first of all, your Beemer’s not exactly a low-key car. I didn’t even know they made Beemers that fancy. Second, Ryan would have killed me if he found out you drive a Lamborghini and he didn’t get to see it.”
“Oh yeah? Well, Ryan can do more than see it—he can test drive it tonight if he wants. Shit, I’ll let him borrow the damned thing for a week.”
I grimace. “Josh. Pull yourself together.”
Josh makes a face. “Too much? Douchey?”
“Not douchey, honey—sweet. But a tad bit desperate. Next thing you know, you’ll be standing with a boom box over your head on my parents’ front lawn.” I snort, but Josh grimaces. “What?” I ask.
Josh shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“I was just kidding, babe. I know you’d never do somethi
ng that ‘desperate.’” I wink.
“So, okay,” Josh says, rolling his eyes. “I shouldn’t hand my Lamborghini keys over to Ryan. Any other tips for tonight?”
“Yes. Madame Professor says: ‘The best way to bag a family is to be your awesome self—and the rest will take care of itself.’”
“Excellent advice. Thank you, Madame Professor.”
“You’re so cute,” I say. “I’ve never seen you nervous like this.”
“I’ve never tried to bag a family before. Babes, I can bag by the dozens in my sleep—families not so much.”
“Haven’t you ever met a girl’s family before?”
Josh shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve met parents before—lots of times—but only incidentally. That tends to happen in the circles I move in—lots of black-tie galas and bumping into people on the slopes or at birthday parties—or maybe I was fucking some girl at her parents’ vacation house in wherever and her parents unexpectedly dropped by to say hi.” He laughs. “But I’ve never been invited for ‘next level’ spaghetti with a girl’s parents and brothers on a quiet suburban street in Seattle. And I’ve certainly never brought pie.” He motions to the pie box sitting on his lap. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“Babe, you’ve got it backwards. Going to black-tie galas or staying at Gabrielle LeMonde’s vacation home in Aspen is the thing that’s like a movie. Pie is real life.”
“Not to me. This is amazing. I don’t wanna fuck it up.” He looks down at his black button-down shirt and jeans. “I’m so damned glad I dressed like Jonas tonight. Thanks for the heads up about that.”
“You look great.”
Josh nods decisively. “Okay. Let’s do this, Party Girl.” He grabs the bouquet of flowers off my lap and the pie off his. “Can you hand me the wine and Scotch?”
I grab the booze bottles down by my feet. “You can’t carry everything plus the pie,” I say. “Let me carry something.”
“Okay. You take the Scotch,” Josh says. “I can handle everything else.” He reaches for his door handle. “Stay put, babe. I’ll let you out.”
