Masterson In Love

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "A conversation and it's taken care of, huh?"

  "Yep."

  "Okay, well Blake is now very much aware that I am pregnant with our love child, so even if what you say about him is true, I don't think we have to worry about any issues with him in the future. So can we both agree that both of those topics are settled and off the table?"

  "All this bargaining and negotiating is turning me on, Duchess."

  "You can't be serious right now."

  "Very." I assure her while pulling her in the last few inches that I can without spreading her bum leg too far. I really wish that she could sit on me and straddle my waist, but I'm being greedy at this point.

  "My leg–"

  "Is easy to work around."

  "Wait, I'm not done talking," she says as I wrap my hand around the base of her neck and pull her in for a long, overdue kiss. Taking great care not to jostle her leg.

  "I'm listening," I whisper by her ear after my momentary exploration of her mouth.

  "I don't want to ask but–"

  "Then don't ask," I say while licking and lightly sucking along her neck.

  "I have to."

  I already know what she wants to know, and I don't want to talk about that shit. Ever. I don't even want her thinking about it.

  "What, Duchess?"

  I brush my fingertips lightly across the tops of her breasts. I figure my best offense is to distract her as much as possible.

  "What happened with Ethan?"

  I ignore the question and rub my knuckles lightly across her right nipple. Her saying his name out loud actually makes me want to bite her damn nipple.

  "If I never hear that name for the rest of my life it would be too soon."

  "What. Happened." She insists.

  I exhale heavily in annoyance more than anything. Even as she arches her breasts into my touch, she's not going to drop the shit. So I might as well get it over with, so I can get back to what I'd rather be doing.

  "Your safety is my number one priority, Elizabeth."

  "I realize that."

  "So you think I could let go the fact that those two were planning on using you to get to me? Maybe blackmail you or kidnap you? Maybe even rape you. I don't know what the fuck they had planned, but I couldn't let that shit stand, Elizabeth. Just the possibility of what could have happened is too much for me to bear. You feel me?" I ask through flared nostrils.

  "Yes, but–"

  "I promise you that I can live with what had to be done, and if you're going to be with me for the long haul, you're going to have to learn to accept that there is shit you're never going to get all the details on. That's just how I do things. I deal with all the dirty, and then I sink myself inside of you and make myself clean again."

  I know this is going to be difficult for her to let go. Maybe I need to tell her something. Anything, so I can end this conversation for good.

  "Now can we stop talking about this?"

  "Are they ... still breathing?"

  "And what if they weren't? How would you feel about that?"

  "Well ... I'd be worried about you. The last thing I need is the father of my child locked up."

  "Then it's a good thing you don't have to worry about that."

  "Really?"

  "Really. Are we good now?"

  She takes a minute to consider everything I've said. I've tried to assure her without really having to commit to an answer either way. I think I've succeeded based on the expression on her face.

  "Yeah, we're good."

  "Good. Now finish this last bite, so I can put you to bed. Both my girls need their rest."

  "Both of your girls? Uh-uh, we're having a boy, and he's going to grow up to be just like his stubborn father."

  I laugh out loud.

  "Let's make a bet." I challenge.

  "What kind of bet?"

  "If we find out that we're having a boy, I'll grant one wish for you. Anything you want, and I won't give you any shit about it."

  "Okay and if it's a girl?"

  "You'll grant one for me. Anything I want."

  "No ménage," she warns.

  "No ménage," I say with heavy laughter as I recall my hysterical exchange with the Glamazon.

  "What's so funny?" she asks suspiciously as I lift her up in my arms, and grab her jacket, handbag, and crutches to help her walk towards the front door. "Wait, where are you taking me?"

  "Exactly where you belong, baby. Home with me and Mr. Tibbs."

  35

  Elizabeth

  It's New Year's Eve and I've been holed up in Roman's penthouse for several days eating some of my favorite foods, binge watching Walking Dead episodes, and getting ready to release School Bucks' latest update in the app store. It sucks to be stuck in the house during the holidays, but I couldn't have wished for a better place to become an invalid. Roman makes sure that I have everything that I need, even before I realize that I want it for myself. Food, drinks, pillows, my Kindle, my laptop. He's the perfect host.

  Unfortunately that's about all he is. A perfect host. He hasn't touched me except for a few chaste kisses that have done nothing but made me angry ... and horny. A few days ago he couldn't keep his hands off of me, but now nothing. I think my visiting nurse must have gotten into his head, and convinced him that I was some sort of fragile porcelain doll. I'm going to fire her and fix his ass soon enough.

  I get a text message on my new cell phone (one of my many Christmas gifts from Roman) alerting me that a package has been delivered. My new cell is a private number added as a second line to his main account, so I haven't had many calls. My parents, Sloan, and Juliette.

  Almost twenty-four hours after I texted Blake that I'd be working from Roman's house for a while, he sent me a long email explaining how he has suddenly decided to recuperate back in Washington Falls and will do freelance work from there. He finished my latest update, uploaded it to the cloud, and basically told me to have a fantastic life. I haven't told Roman yet. I'm not in the mood for how elated the news is going to make him, especially because I'm not totally happy about it. I'm out one amazing coder and possibly a friend.

  "Roman," I call out to the man who refuses to leave my side, much less leave the house.

  "Yeah, babe."

  "I've got a package downstairs. Can you get it?"

  "I'll have Darren bring it up."

  Darren is the building's doorman.

  "All right." I roll my eyes to myself. He won't even leave to get a package. He thinks I may roll out of bed and bump my head or something. Talk about overprotective. Good grief.

  * * *

  "Your box is here."

  Roman tosses the box next to me on the bed.

  "What is it?" he asks curiously.

  "I'm sick of these bird baths the nurse has been giving me. I want a real shower."

  I open the box and pull out a seal tight cast protector that I bought on Amazon.

  "It says that it will cover and keep my cast completely dry. I'll be able to get in the shower. Or better yet, I can even take a bath." I bat my eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.

  "Not in my tub. The sides are too high. You might hurt yourself getting in or out."

  Seriously?

  "You can help me get in and out."

  "Still too dangerous."

  "I'd have to stand in the shower though. Isn't that a hazard as well?"

  "No. I have a waterproof stool you can use in the shower."

  I roll my eyes.

  "Fine."

  "Does Raina know how to put this thing on?" he asks while examining the plastic package.

  Raina is that damn visiting nurse Roman has hired to come three times a week to check on me, and that's only because I talked him out of having her come everyday.

  "Raina? I'm not waiting until tomorrow to take a shower. You can help me."

  I laugh a little to myself, because Roman makes an expression like he'd rather swallow nails than help me in the shower. He's been trying to avoid loo
king at or touching my naked body for days.

  "Elizabeth," he warns.

  "What?" I act clueless.

  "Why can't you wait for Raina? You just had a bird bath this morning. You're totally clean."

  "There's nothing totally clean about a bird bath, and I'm not bringing in the new year dirty."

  "You're hardly dirty," he says dismissively.

  "You want me to call Juliette over then?"

  There's no way Roman would want Juliette and Joseph to think that he wasn't taking the best care of me. I knew I had him with that. I think that something Joseph said to him during their little lunch messed with his head. That might not have been the best idea Juliette and I came up with. He refuses to ask for their help with anything.

  "Fuck," he says in a defeated voice. "All right. You get undressed, and I'll start the shower. Don't try and walk. When you're ready, I'll come and get you. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  It doesn't get past me that Roman has to adjust the rather large bulge swelling inside of his sweats after hearing me respond with the word sir.

  After stripping off my sweats, it only takes me a few minutes to figure out how to pull the plastic protector over my cast. It's actually quite ingenious. There's a rubber gasket at the top of the protector that creates a watertight seal around my thigh.

  I think I hear a few indiscernible curse words when Roman comes back to grab me for the shower. He bends over the bed, and lifts me up as if I weigh two pounds, then walks me inside of the bathroom. I'm pretty sure he tries to stealthily take a whiff of my neck.

  Roman's master bath is gorgeous. It's covered completely in creme Italian tile with caramel colored veining. The shower is huge and spans the entire length of one side of the bathroom. There's a large showerhead that hangs from the ceiling and the water falls like gentle rainfall. Then there's another showerhead strategically placed on the opposite wall which is tilted to spray directly on your body and pulses like a therapeutic massage.

  The size of the room, the multiple shower heads, and the attention to detail makes his bathroom feel very much like one you'd see in a five star hotel or a spa, and it's one of my favorite rooms in his apartment. So relaxing, especially once it fills with steam.

  "I'm going to sit you on this stool. See it has a wide seat and short, stubby legs. I'm leaning your crutches right here. Your bodywash is on the table. Use the handheld sprayer to wash yourself. Don't try and stand up for anything. Call me if you need to reach something, and call me when you're finished."

  "And where in the ham sandwich do you think you're going?" I demand to know.

  "I'll be right next door in the bedroom if you need me. I have a few calls to make, but I'll keep the door open. You enjoy your shower, baby."

  Oh for Pete's sake! He is being so infuriating.

  "Roman."

  "What."

  "Are you just going to let me take a shower by myself with a broken leg and a baby in my belly? What the hell."

  More expletives under his breath and a sigh later, he starts getting undressed; and just the sight of him getting undressed to come into the shower with me is making me salivate.

  What's so beautiful about Roman is that he doesn't even have to try hard. There's just the way that he moves in this world, with hard edges and confident swagger that makes me wet every single solitary time that I'm near him. I'm actually waiting for this effect he has on me to finally wear off, because there's nothing more annoying than sitting around in soaked underwear all the damn time. Luckily today I'm already undressed and under a stream of water.

  "Have you been working out more lately?" I ask him practically panting. Knowing full well he has been working out like a maniac. Anything to keep his hands off of his delicate baby's momma. *Eye roll.*

  "No, Elizabeth," he says tensely. "Why are you acting like you haven't seen my body before. I sleep with you every night."

  Covered in sweats and on his back barely touching me. He forgot to mention that part.

  "Oh, it's just that you look even more cut lately," I say in mock appreciation. Although it's totally true. Watching Roman's thick, hard muscles stretch and flex in motion, especially the parts covered in ink, is better than watching porn.

  "It's the protein shakes."

  "So how do I look?" I ask while adjusting myself on the stool.

  "Beautiful as always."

  "Have I gained some of my weight back?" I ask worried a bit about the weight I'll gain during this pregnancy.

  "A little." He says in a grumpy tone. "You could stand to gain a couple more pounds though."

  I smile at that comment. Only a man like Roman would want me to actually gain weight instead of lose it.

  "I think you just want to fatten me up so no other men look at me." I joke.

  "Not possible," he grumbles. "Men will always look at you. Assholes."

  Roman enters the shower in all of his commanding magnificence and swiftly helps me up off of the stool. He carries me over to a corner of the shower and places me gently down on my feet. He leans us both against the wall, so that the tilted showerhead is hitting us directly.

  I'm a little unsure about standing in this position because of my leg until he tells me firmly to, "Lean back on me."

  His strong arms encircle my waist as I lean back with my head against his chest. A soft stream of water to my front. Hardness at my back. It feels heavenly.

  "Can you hand me the body wash?" I ask.

  "I'll do it." He practically growls in response. As if he's angry I even suggested that I'd wash my own self.

  I grin triumphantly to myself as he grabs one of the Dead Sea sponges on the shelf and pours a generous amount of my favorite jasmine body wash on it.

  He starts washing me at my neck first and meticulously begins washing me with the sponge in a slow, sensual, circular motion. I close my eyes and settle farther back into his body. Melting from his touch.

  "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through gritted teeth by my ear.

  "Mmmm, yes," I say raising my arms above my head and behind his neck.

  "Me rubbing this sponge all over your body? Across your breasts? Down your back? Between your legs?" he asks while completing the motions.

  "Yessss."

  "Or were you hoping my hands would replace this sponge? Maybe hoping I'd slide my hands underneath these heavy tits and squeeze until your pussy starts gushing for me."

  I yelp a little from his rough pinch of my nipple, but my one good knee becomes limp like a noodle as the blood rushes back into my breast once he releases it. I'm dying to come. I think these pregnancy hormones are doing a number on my libido. I'm aroused all the time.

  "So responsive," he growls in my ear.

  One of Romans hands cradles me in a possessive way around my neck while the other holds me at my waist. The hand at my neck reminding me that I belong to him. The other hand claiming his baby. I finally relax a hundred percent into his embrace. My full weight against him. I trust that he has me. I've never felt safer in my whole life.

  "That's it, Duchess. Give yourself completely over to me."

  His words spur me to softly moan in compliance.

  "I wasn't planning on touching you tonight," he says. His voice thick with need. "But maybe just a little taste."

  My pussy is throbbing, and I nod my head eagerly in agreement and bumble over my words like an idiot. "Yesss. A taste."

  "Ask me," he demands.

  "What happens next, Masterson?"

  "That's a good girl," he says by my ear while holding both of his hands underneath my breasts and rubbing his thumbs along my pebbling nipples.

  "What happens next is that I'm going to turn you around to face the corner, like that bad girl that you are. You're going to lean into that corner and spread your legs. Keeping all your weight on the only good leg you have. It's going to be difficult, but you're going to do it, because you've been begging for me to plow inside of you for days. And I always give my girl what she want
s, even if it really isn't what she needs don't I?

  "See I planned on waiting until your leg and throat were fully healed, and your belly was good and swollen with my seed, and then I was going to pound that pussy until you had to literally beg me to stop. And even then, I don't think I could stop myself. You know why, Duchess?"

  "No," I say with a very dry mouth. My throat constricting.

  "No, what?"

  "No, I don't know why, Masterson."

  "That's real good, baby," he says as he slides the fingers of his right hand between my folds. "Because this sopping wet cunt was custom built for my dick. That's why you've never been nor will ever be fucked by anyone the likes of me. This is mine."

  He slides one finger inside of me.

  "Today," he says.

  Two fingers.

  "Tomorrow."

  Then he compresses my left nipple, my extra sensitive one, with his thumb and pointer finger. First softly. Then hard.

  "And forever," he growls.

  My orgasm is coiling inside of me like a fast moving, angry snake. It's going to be quick, powerful, and bite me in the ass. If I fall in this shower, I'm going to kick Roman's butt.

  Then he stops completely. One hand back around my waist, the other totally out of my pussy. Yep, it's official. My orgasm bully is back in full force. He's not even taking any sort of pity on the cripple that I am.

  He switches positions with me. Turning me around face first and leaning me into the corner, holding me at the waist the entire time. He uses his hand to guide my legs farther apart, making sure I'm leaning most of my weight on my good leg and my arms.

  Then he drops on his knees behind me.

  Still only holding me at the waist, but I can feel his breath on my ass. His lips are just an inch away from my pussy, but he doesn't do anything. He just waits for me to calm down a bit.

  Controlling jerk.

  "That's not going to work," I say snidely to the wall.

  I probably shouldn't have said that.

  Whack!

  Roman slaps me firmly on the ass. I should have known it was coming, but it took me by surprise. A mixture of shock and carnal pleasure escapes between my lips.

  "What the fuck did you say?"