Oh shit. Maybe I should turn my car around. Because she deserves better than me. She deserves some dude who will give her a dozen kids and a house with a white picket fence, instead of someone who’s all about money. Maybe it’s better I stay out of her life before I corrupt her. Before I show her the dark side, and return to my old ways.
But I don’t do it. I don’t turn the car around. That was the old Dylan, the pre-Fiona Dylan. Something in her changed something in me. I feel balanced and happy when she’s around. I don’t care about spending twelve hours a day at the office and two hours a day in the gym anymore. I don’t want to live like that. She probably doesn’t even know this, but the connection we built has changed the way I do everything. And the fact that she won’t speak to me, out of nowhere like this, is driving me fucking bonkers. I have to see her!
I don’t fully succeed in keeping my cool during the rest of the drive, but I manage to keep my frustrated rage more or less under wraps. So by the time I’m buzzing at her apartment door, all I’m doing is breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest, missing a beat when she answers.
“Hello?” her digitalized voice comes through the speaker. They don’t have cameras at her building, so she can’t see me.
“It’s Dylan,” I say through clenched teeth. Silence. “Fiona?” I ask, my chest suddenly tight at the lack of response. “Let me in, Fiona. We need to talk.” A few more seconds go by and then the buzzer sounds and the door opens with a click. Trying to get my emotions under control, I head up to the woman’s apartment, taking deep breaths. The only other time I’d been here was the first time I came to pick her up for our first date. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
When I get up to her door, it’s closed. What the hell? She’s expecting me, so why is she deliberately trying to insult me by having me ask her to open up for a second time? I shouldn’t bang my fist on her door, but I do.
“Fiona! Open up!” I hear her whimpering on the other side of the door and it makes my insides shrink up in a mixture of confusion, affection, and frustration. And regret. She’s scared of me for some reason.
“Fiona?” I try more gently now. The door unlocks and I push it open, stepping into her apartment.
The brunette stands before me in her bathrobe. Her arms are crossed over her full chest, her brown hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she’s not wearing any make-up. She looks adorable. But she also looks worried and her eyes are red, as if she’s been crying. I close the door behind me with a soft click. My instinct is to go over to her take her in my arms, but I force myself to take it easy.
“Fiona? Baby? What’s the matter?” I ask her, trying the gentle route and surprised at how much more natural that seems to come to me than I was expecting. “Why have you been avoiding me?” I ask her. She can’t meet my eyes, but I can see she's welling up.
“Please,” I say, taking a step closer to her. “Whatever it is, just tell me. If you don’t want to see me anymore, just tell me to my face, and I’ll leave you alone. I swear it,” comes my rough voice. I can feel the desperation rise in me, but I force myself to stay calm. Desperation is not a good look, ever. But Fiona’s laughing now. And it tips me over the edge.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I growl. She looks me square in the eye for the first time, tears streaming down her face even though she’s laughing. And her answer comes in a half-wail, half-laugh.
“That I wouldn’t want to see you anymore! That’s what’s funny!” she says, crying. “How could you think that?”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her incredulously. “I haven’t heard from you since before I left! You haven’t returned my phone calls, my emails, and now you’re acting like this! Seriously baby. What’s wrong?”
Fiona raises her hands to her face and wipes it with a frustrated gesture. Her mouth opens, and then closes, before opening again. There are words to be said, but she’s struggling. Finally, the woman swallows and takes a deep breath, those brown eyes meeting mine.
“I’m pregnant, Dylan,” she says softly, standing still as a doe. “And I don’t know what to do.”
Holy fuck, she’s pregnant? Emotions well up in a torrent, and I open my mouth to speak.
10
Dylan
Feelings crash through my body as if someone had opened the sky on top of my head and unceremoniously dumped a bucket of rain on me. Surprise, elation, shock, and love land on me one by one. I’m staring at Fiona as my face breaks open in the most genuine smile it’s ever produced.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim, starting to walk over to her to take her in my arms. But something’s not right. She's not smiling. She’s not mirroring my happiness at this news in any way. And she’s not meeting my embrace at all, either. In fact, the woman’s turning away, putting her palm out as if to ward me off. I stop in my tracks, my arms hanging uselessly by my side.
“Aren’t you happy?” I ask stupidly. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
She’s shaking her head and she bites her lip. The brunette turns back to face me, tears streaming down her face, her hands shaking as she pulls the robe closer around herself and folds her arms back over her chest.
“Fiona, what the hell is going on?” I demand of her, caught in such a web of emotions that I can’t take it anymore.
“Dylan,” she whispers, her voice thick with tears. “I can’t even think about being happy. Because I’m not even sure the baby is yours!” she wails.
I stare at her blankly. Who else’s could it be? Has she been two-timing me? I see red for a moment but then it dissipates. That’s impossible because the girl’s lived at my apartment non-stop for the last three months. She hasn’t had a moment to herself.
And seeing my confusion, Fiona continues.
“I mean it could be your baby. B-but it could also be Ricky’s!” she stammers on the edge of hysteria.
Numbly, I back away from her a couple of steps and find myself sitting limply on the barstool by the kitchen island. I can’t look at her. I can’t think. All I can do is try to keep breathing and regain my composure. A few minutes ago, I’d been prepared to hear she just wasn’t that in to me. I was prepared to walk out of here with that loss, and to go back to my old life. Even though I would have never succeeded in that. I would have been forever marred by this experience, forever unable to fill the void that Fiona had created when she found her way into my life.
But now she tells me she’s pregnant with a baby that could be mine, but could also be my asshole of a twin brother’s? What the hell? Is this some kind of sick, twisted farce?
I’m vaguely aware of Fiona’s sobs a few feet away from me. I look up to see if she’s been pulling my leg. But all I see is fear - fear of losing me, fear of having Ricky’s baby, fear of not knowing what to do.
“Dylan,” she blubbers. “I’m so sorry.”
I don't know what to say. I feel like I should be angry at her, but I'm not. I’m just shocked and at a complete loss.
“How is this possible?” come my low words.
Fiona drops her head, looking miserable.
“Well you know I dated Ricky before I met you,” she says in an almost inaudible voice. “And he and I, well,” she says, taking a deep breath. “We had sex two days before I met you. Unprotected. And then I met you, and we had sex as well, also unprotected. So I’m pregnant but I don’t know who the father is,” she finishes feebly.
Holy fuck. What are the chances? I stand there stunned and unable to move. But then gears grind in my head and I practically lurch forwards.
“Let’s do a DNA test then,” I say before I really think about it. “Let’s just know for sure.”
But Fiona is shaking her head.
“I’ve already looked into it. Because you and Ricky are identical twins, your DNA is too similar for a paternity test to be of any real use,” says Fiona, wiping her eyes.
“Are you sure?” I demand. “There must be something we can do to find out.”
Fiona shrugs sadly.<
br />
“There is apparently some new kind of technology we could apply, but the accuracy of it is still pretty low. And even so, we’d actually need Ricky to provide us with a DNA sample and, well,” Fiona throws her hands up in the air in a giving-up gesture. “I can’t reach him.” Any hope I had seeps out of me. “I don’t know what to do,” says Fiona, and starts sobbing again. I want to go over to her and take in my arms, but I can’t.
“What do you want to do?” I ask her numbly. She doesn’t answer, but simply shrugs and shakes her head. Suddenly, fury strikes.
“How long have you known you’re pregnant?” I demand of her. She seems taken aback by my sudden change of tone.
“About a week,” she answers. “And you thought the best course of action was to call Ricky, but not me,” I continue.
She looks at me incredulously. “To get the DNA sample! Not because I want him around!” she defends herself.
“Even so, you don’t think maybe you should have told me as soon as you knew?” I demand of her. “I had to chase you down, Fiona,” are my harsh words. “When were you going to tell me? How long were you planning on keeping me in the dark?”
She looks hurt and confused.
“Until I figured out what to do,” she says, her voice small. But my fury continues unabated.
“You don’t think maybe I have a say in the matter? You don't think maybe we could try and sort this out together?” This seems to hit home. She looks at me, stunned. Clearly she hadn't thought about that. Maybe I was right all along. Maybe I really do care about her more than she does about me.
Of course that’s it. How could I have been so stupid? A nice girl like Fiona, so innocent and naive - what does she want with a corrupt businessman like me? All I’ve ever cared about was work: making deals and raking in the millions. No ethics. In fact, a lot of my stuff skirted the edges of legality. So why would she want to have a baby with someone like me?
“Dylan, wait,” she starts. “I’m just so confused. I didn’t think you’d be interested in having a baby with me if the baby wasn’t yours!” she explains.
“But why not let me decide that?” I ask her bitterly. We just stare at each other for a moment. Then Fiona starts walking over to me, but I stop her.
“Look, this is just all a bit much. I need time to think,” I say. She nods sadly, understanding. I start walking to the door.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she whispers behind me, and I stop with my hand on the door, frozen to the spot for a moment. I almost look up at her, but because I don’t know what to do, how to feel, or where to go with all this, I don’t. I unfreeze, open the door, and walk out. And although I don’t know it then, I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.
11
Fiona
I’m standing by the window of his penthouse, letting the evening breeze play with my hair and caress my naked body. I shiver and I’m about to turn back inside to get my lace dressing gown for at least a little protection, but Dylan’s tall, broad frame presses gently into mine from behind, strong arms enveloping me. I smile as I feel his naked skin on mine, his pubic hair against the top of my buttocks, and his enormous cock hanging softly against my butt crack. I’m not cold anymore. He kisses the top of my head and I close my eyes as he cups my huge tits with his hands and runs his cheek down mine to kiss my shoulder.
His cock no longer lies softly against my bottom, but is starting to harden again, even though we only just had sex. I tilt my pelvis back to press my buttocks against him, and he instantly grinds his cock against my ass, hardening even more. He groans and pulls me closer to him, lifting my chin up to face him and he puts his lips on mine, kissing me gently at first, then suddenly roughly, making my pussy tingle. He turns me around and bends down slightly to cup his hands around my big ass, lifting me up as if I weigh nothing. I put my arms around his neck and as he carries me back over to the bed, I smile down at him and see him grinning back up at me, lust in his piercingly blue eyes. I can feel his cock, now fully erect, pressing up against my pussy as he carries me, and I moan at the thought of it entering me.
I don’t have to wait long. He lays me on the bed and pushes my thighs open with one hand, and supports his weight next to me on the other. And kissing me deeply, his tongue running along mine, I feel him sheath himself in me with one strong, forceful push. I gasp against his open mouth as his enormous cock pushes through the tightness of my pussy, still wet from our last session, and already drenched again from this one. He leans lovingly over me and groans in my ear. “I had to have you again. The way you were standing there, you looked so beautiful, Fiona,” he whispers as moves slow and strong inside me.
“You can have me whenever you want,” I manage through my pleasure. “I’m yours.” Dylan fucks me deeper now, pressing his pubic bone into my clit as his balls nudge my ass cheeks, running the length of his hardness along my G-spot in strong movements, faster and faster. “Forever?” he growls into my neck and bites me, the sensation adding the building fire in my pussy. I grip him to make him fuck me faster and harder, moaning as I lift my legs up around his grinding hips to give him better access. “Yes, Dylan, forever,” I moan.
He raises himself up on his elbows to look in my eyes as he continues to impale me over and over on his enormous cock, his mouth slightly open as he nears orgasm. His cock presses into my G-spot at the perfect angle. I’d been looking back at him, but my eyes roll back in my head in pleasure now as he fucks me closer to my finish, tits swaying with the motion.
“Look at me, Fiona,” he says forcefully through, and I can’t help but obey.
I force my eyes open and meet his gaze - but there’s more than just lust there. He’s bearing down on me as he continues to fuck me deeper and deeper, harder and harder, bringing us both to the edge.
“Oh, Dylan, don’t stop!” I moan, grasping at him as I can feel my pussy clench tighter around his thrusting cock.
“Fiona,” he growls, looking into my eyes, breathing heavily, moaning, forcing me to continue looking back at him. “Fiona, will you marry me?” he groans, and fucks me harder, pushing his pulsing cock so deep inside me that I feel my pussy cream and clench as my orgasm rips through me.
“Yes!” I scream to his question, as I come. “Yes! Oh, god! Yes, I’ll marry you!”
And at that, he lifts me up roughly with one arm as he kisses me hard and deep, moaning into my mouth. He thrusts a few more times, deeper and harder than is comfortable, and then holds still deep inside me. I feel his cock pulse hard, his balls contracting against my ass cheeks, as he unleashes himself into my still clenching pussy. It goes on and on as he pumps his seed deep inside, groaning with pleasure. He breaks away from the kiss and smiles, out of breath and satiated. I can’t help but answer his smile with a giggle.
“Did you mean that?” he asks huskily, still pulsing inside me. “Will you really marry me?” A warm wave of pleasure rushes through me at the thought that Dylan wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
“Of course,” I whisper earnestly, and I know there’s nothing I want more. His face lights up in the most incredibly gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen on his handsome face, his dimples showing on both sides now, that’s how wide it is. It gives me butterflies.
“Well,” he growls while giving me a series of warm little kisses on my lips. “That’s good to know because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” The breath catches in my throat because Dylan’s my man, possessive and dominating. And all mine.
A sudden pain in my abdomen wakes me. I open my eyes and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. After all, the dream was very vivid. But not vivid enough to fool me for long. I know I’m in my own bed, alone and pregnant, and that Dylan has forgotten all about me. We haven't seen each other since he found out I was expecting and revealed my dilemma. I still don’t know who the father is, but it doesn't even matter anymore. Neither Masterson brother has made any effort to get in touch with me for the past six months while I go through this pregnancy
alone. I’ve long since given up hope of playing happy families.
But even if I’ve managed to avoid thoughts of Dylan during the day, I dream about him all the time. Every night, in my fantasies we’re together. In my dreams, I’m not pregnant yet. We take things easy. We get married. We start living together. So that one day we can become parents together by choice. Not the living nightmare that I actually find myself in: pregnant without knowing who the father is. Not only that, but there are two choices, and the two men are twins. How did this happen?
I feel the pain in my abdomen again. It’s the same one that woke me. Groaning, I sit up in bed and turn on the light, and notice that my sheets are soaked: my water has broken! Oh shit. The baby’s coming. Dread and fear crash over me as I try not to panic.
Come on, Fiona, the voice in my head says firmly. You’ve been preparing for this. It’ll be okay. Now do what you’ve planned to do.
Because I hadn’t been able to bring myself to go to any birthing classes on my own. It would be too depressing with all the other cooing couples. But on my mother’s insistence, I read some baby books, and they helped me set up a plan once contraction begin:
Pack a hospital bag two weeks in advance, stocked with extra panties and pajamas.
Call my mom.
Call the doctor.
Call the hospital to let them know you’re coming.
Call the cab company and order a cab stat.
Get dressed and wait for cab while labor contractions begin.
Because I’m on my own in this game of life. I wanted a partner. I wanted Dylan to be specific, but you can’t always get what you want. So I have my baby books, and my mom. I hadn’t even wanted to tell Elaine actually, but she came to visit me herself and found out anyway. She was very disappointed at first because who wants their daughter to be in a situation like this? But my mom loves me, and she came around. And then Elaine was unbearably supportive. Soon she was constantly calling me, checking on me, and offering to help. You'd think I’d be grateful for it, and I am. But at the same time, it highlights how much I’m on my own.
#BABYCRAZY: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 5
