“You reacted better than I did when I found out,” Whitley mumbles, squeezing my hand with excessive force.
“You didn’t remember?” the nurse asks with a slacked jaw, powering on the machine.
I laugh. “No, she didn’t. It’s been a bumpy road, but we want to make it work.”
“You know what, good for you guys. Alright,” she smiles, waving the wand over Whitley’s stomach. “Let’s see if you're having a baby!”
I bend down to get to Whitley’s eye level, watching the screen showing insides.
“Okay, see here,” she clicks, making an arrow. “And here.”
“Yeah,” we say in unison.
“That’s your baby. You’re around nine weeks. It’s still very early. So, you got pregnant before Vegas.”
“Of course, we did. I knew it. I knew when you took that condom off the first time we had sex, it looked too—too— she pauses when she can’t find the word.
I remember that night. It was the night I took her virginity, and come to think about it, when I took the condom it did look a bit…
“Juicy,” I finish her sentence.
Whitley crinkles her face. “You had to use that word, huh? Gross.”
It might be gross, but it’s effective.
Whitley
Logan spins me around when we get back to his estate, hiding his face in my shoulder.
“I can’t believe it. You’re here. Both of you are here.” He puts me down gently and falls to his knees, covering my belly with his hand and bringing his lips to it.
“I promise to be the best daddy that I can. I’ll love you so much. I already do. The both of you.” He kisses the flat belly again before standing up. “I have something for you, Whitley. A few things.”
I stay where I am, excited and nervous. When he turns back around, he has a poster in his hand rolled up and a small box in the other. “Come here.” He says, walking over to the large wooden table and spreading the poster out.
But it isn’t a poster. It’s a set of blueprints. He lays the box down in the middle of it, opening it and there, shining and sparkling in the light, is another ring. It’s huge, like the one on my finger, but it’s a bright cherry-red gem with diamonds hugging it. The band is rose gold, my favorite, and small accent diamonds decorate the band.
I’m flabbergasted. “What is this, Logan?”
“So, I don’t know if you noticed, but our wedding bands are engraved.”
I blush. I do know that. I stared at the words every night before I went to bed without him. “I know.”
“I don’t want your engagement ring to be from Vegas. I want it to be meaningful. This ring was my grandma’s. I was close to her growing up, and I think it’s why I have such an inclination toward red,” he winks, and my heart starts pounding. “I want you to wear this ring instead—the one I should have given to you from the start. We have never been conventional, but I want us to have the wedding of your dreams. I want you to have photos you’ll look at and be proud. Then, this—” he moves the ring box off the poster and shows the blueprint, “is going to be our new house. I don’t want to raise a family here. This house—it’s not good for us. I want our own estate.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you even want to think about it?”
“No. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few weeks and I’m done. I love you. I want to be with you. And I want what you want.”
He squeezes me in a tight hug until I can’t breathe. “Logan.”
“Sorry. Is the baby okay?” His palm lays flat against my belly.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, he or she is fine. And Logan?”
“Hmm?” he brings my hands to his mouth and kisses them.
“I don’t want another wedding. We have photos. We even had a bridal party, if you don’t remember.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Very.”
“I don’t know.”
“I married you that night. Not everyone else. You. That’s all that matters, plus those pictures are fun. It’s us. It’s unconventional.”
“Well,” he wraps his around arm my waist and places a soft kiss on my lips. “How about a honeymoon?”
“Anywhere?”
He tosses his head back, and a deep chuckle reverberates off the walls. “Anywhere, Cherry.”
“Fiji.”
“Oh, thank god it isn’t Vegas. I don’t know if I could go again.”
This time, it’s my turn to giggle. “Me either. It’s too soon.”
“Oh, speaking of Vegas.” Logan's shoes click against the marble floor, echoing down the empty hallways. He told me in the car that his sister and his mother are both in an involuntary treatment program, getting all the resources they need to get better. It hurt Logan’s heart to do it, but he knew it was the only way to help them. It all happened during the weeks we were apart.
He pulls something out of his coat and brings it over to me. I look at him with confusion and open the paper, and my eyes widen. “Seventy thousand dollars? What the hell for?”
“That’s the money you won.”
“With your money.”
“Our money.”
“Logan.”
“No. I refuse to have everything, and you not have half of it. Hell, take all of it. I don’t care. I want you.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Stone.”
“You love me for it, Mrs. Stone.”
“Oh!” I smile wide. “I haven’t been called that yet. I think it’s time I change my name.”
“Gets me hard thinking about having your name changed.”
“The wind can get you hard.”
“Only if you’re standing in it.”
“Sweet talker.” I lean for a kiss and Logan entangles his hand in my hair, moving my head toward his lips.
“I’ve missed you, Cherry,” he says right before he presses his lips against mine. They move in perfect harmony. His top lip moves between the opening of my mouth, sucking my bottom lip into his, making me moan—our tongues dance, relishing in the embrace of finally feeling each other again.
I can’t believe I ever questioned this. There is no doubt in my mind this is the man I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life.
He pulls away, laying his forehead against mine and rolling it back and forth as he growls, trying to control himself. “Let’s go. We’re going to Fiji.”
“Right now?” I pout. I’d been hoping we were about to have sex.
“Do you need something, Cherry?”
“Yes, I need. I need so much. Take me, please. I need you.”
It doesn’t take long to convince him. He pushes me against the wall, cupping my breasts through my shirt. “I’ve missed these.”
I hiss when he pinches my nipples. They are sensitive.
“Oh, we can have fun with that,” he teases, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down my legs and off my feet. The denim slides against the floor, pooling by the wall across from us.
He fumbles with his jeans, dropping them low enough until his cock is out. “You know what I love about you being pregnant?”
I toss my head back and forth as the lust fever controls my body.
“I can be inside you bare. No more condoms. Fuck, just thinking about it has me close to coming.”
“You better not.”
He puts his head on my chest, grunting deeply with desire. I love that I affect him so much. He grips his cock, and I peer down to stare at the leaking head. Pre-come dribbles out, coating his shaft with extra lubricant. He strokes his flesh, shining the long length with his juices, pinching the crown as he primes himself for me.
The wet sounds of his skin sliding down from the ministrations make me rock my pussy against his leg, searching for relief. I feel so sensitive. The need to have him fill me up is right there, tickling and teasing my senses.
“That’s it. Rock against me, Cherry. Use me.” He pumps his cock faster, but I take his hand and throw it away from it
. Moving my hips over his leg, I impale myself on the thick shaft that I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.
“Fuck!” he yells, his deep voice bouncing off the walls and echoing down each hallway.
I claw at his T-shirt covered chest. We were only naked from the waist down from desperation, but I want to dig my nails in his chest. The way he fills me up stretches me to capacity, makes me lose control of all my senses. I whimper when the slick, steel rod pulses inside me, heating me from the inside out.
“Oh my god, this feels so much better. I hate condoms. I never want us to wear them again.”
“You can’t say things like that when I’m two seconds away from filling you up,” he snarls, gripping the apples of my ass as he slides out, leaving just the tip, and thrusting back in. Both of us moan in unison from the sensation.
It all feels different. Before with the condom, it still felt so good, so amazing, but nothing like this. It’s like someone decompressed the mute button and it allowed us to see clearer, feel more, experience things better.
I never want to go back.
“I’m never using a condom again for the rest of our fucking lives.” He snaps his hips, sending me up the wall a few inches as he hammers into me long, hard, and fast.
My hands claw the drywall, and the surface embeds itself under my nails as he properly fucks me.
“I don’t want to be apart from you ever again,” he rumbles, somehow finding the strength to move faster.
“Never again.” My hand cups his jaw, but when he looks at me, meeting my greens with his browns, I see an unleashed beast. It’s primal. Raw.
“You’re with me forever.”
“Forever, Logan. Always.”
“Mind. Body. Soul. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” The power of his sexual energy stamps all over my body. He is claiming me.
“Mine.” He slams his mouth down on mine, and it’s all teeth and tongue. It’s messy. Spit is all over my face, but I don’t care. This. This is what I want.
“Logan,” I say his name in warning when my clit pulses and my toes curl.
And when his cock enters me again, touching the explosive nerves inside me, I detonate. I scream at the top of my lungs, and the high-pitched noise shakes the crystals hanging from the chandelier.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, before shoving his cock as far as it can go. He groans as he shoots his seed as deep as he can, still thrusting hard inside me to shove his come in my abyss, hitting my womb.
Something he doesn’t need to try to do considering I’m already pregnant.
“Never wearing a condom again,” he says again, gasping for breath.
My legs are still wrapped around his waist, and his big, thick root is still inside me, locking his seed in. “Never again.”
Logan
Seven Months Later…
She looks like she is about to pop. I’d never tell her that—no way in hell. I loved sleeping in my bed. Her body has become so beautiful carrying my child, and Whitley—being Whitley—argued with me about working.
I didn’t want her to work at Tops’.
She said she wasn’t going to stop working at Tops’.
So we made a compromise, and she works at Tops’ three days a week. I keep an eye on her, though. I continue to sit in my typical booth, working and drawing up business plans to make sure if she goes into labor, I’ll be right next to her.
Tops is doing well. He still isn’t out of the gate with cancer, but the doctors say it looks promising that he will be in remission soon. I knew the old man would kick its ass.
Kyle and Charlie see more of each other. We don’t know if they are officially dating, but we all know it’s going to happen sooner or later.
My sister and my mother are both doing well at the treatment program. At this rate, they both might be able to lead a normal life by the end of the year.
Thanks to the new renovations, the diner is doing better than ever. We’ve even been able to hire some extra staff to help out while Tops recovers.
After some cajoling by Whitley, I decided to scale back my plan to open a luxury resort in the woods. It made a few investors mad, but it was worth it. Instead, we turned it into a wildlife preserve, and planted hundreds of new trees to replace the ones I’d cut down. It’s not quite ten thousand for each one, but I’m working on it.
And once the baby comes and we get settled, Whitley will go back to finish her degree, and then start getting ready for law school. She already can’t wait to get back out there and advocate for the environment.
The biggest problem right now is Whitley’s brother, Anthony. I always thought he was protective of his little sister, but I wonder if it was because he truly did have something against her. He hasn’t been around for her entire pregnancy. Whitley doesn’t talk about it, but I know it bothers her. Sometimes, I see her looking through her phone, staring at old pictures of her and Anthony.
I think she tried so hard growing up to be close to him because she felt it in her heart that she wasn’t as close with him as the rest of her family. Now, the rest of her family have been amazing. We finished building the house in a lot right in front of the woods, so I wouldn’t have to tear any trees down. Her mom and dad have set up the nursery with all baby-neutral colors since we didn’t know the sex of the baby yet. Heck, her mom is freaking pumped to be a grandma, she’s had ‘Best Grandma and Best Grandpa’ hats, mugs, and T-shirts made.
I have a feeling we’ve found our babysitter if we ever need one.
A sudden crashing of plates makes me snap my head up. Whitley is there, standing in the middle of the broken glass and spilled food. The customer has his cheeseburger all over him, but everyone is just standing there, not doing anything.
“Cherry?” I rush over and step in a puddle of water. My eyes go wide when I realize what it means.
“My water broke, Logan,” she says through short, painful breaths. “Sir, I’m sorry about your food!” she yells, doubling over when a contraction hits her.
“Charlie!” I yell, picking Whitley up in a wedding-style hold. She comes rushing from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Call everyone. I’m taking Whitley to the hospital.”
“Oh my god! It’s time?”
“It’s time.”
“Get me out of here!” Whitley screams as she digs her nails into my shoulder.
Internally, I wince at the sharp pain, but considering she is going through something so much worse, I think it’s best if I kept all my pain on the inside. I carry her to the Land Rover, putting the seat down so she can get comfortable.
Not that it would help much.
I run around the other side, hopping into the driver’s side and peel out of the parking lot, sending the smell of burnt rubber through the air. “How you are doing, Cherry?”
Her eyes narrow and pure hatred shoots out of them, piercing me with imaginary daggers. “How am I doing? I’ll tell you. You are never coming anywhere near me again!” she shouts the last word when another contraction hits.
“Cherry, they are coming too close. I don’t think we are going to make it.”
She leans over the middle console, clutching my shirt. Her teeth clench. “You better get me to the hospital or so help me god, you’ll sleep on the couch for the next five years.”
It’s just the pain talking. She doesn’t mean it. Right?
You know, let’s not chance it.
I floor it, turning on my hazard lights as I weave through traffic.
“Ahhhhh! Never fucking again, Logan Stone! You aren’t coming near me ever again with that dick of yours. Do you hear me! We will become born-again virgins because I sweeeaaar!” she cries when another contraction hits her.
Her fire-red hair is soaked, sticking to her face. Beads of sweat roll down her temples and the collar of her shirt is wet. She clutches my arm, digging her nails so hard that she breaks the skin.
Keep the pain inside. Ke
ep the pain inside.
“I’m not going to make it, Logan! I’m not going to make it! I need to push. I have to.”
“We’re almost there, Cherry.”
She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t. I need to push!” Whitley pushes down her soaked underwear, tossing them in the floorboard, and lifts her legs on the dash.
“I’m pulling over. You need help.”
“No! We’re almost there. Keep driving. Just go,” she shouts as she bears down, pushing hard for ten seconds before she collapses against the seat. She doesn’t have much time to catch her breath when another contraction hits. She screams at the top of her lungs. Her face turns bright red for the exertion, and she pushes again.
The tires squeal as I turn into the hospital, parking in the overhang of the emergency room. I run around the car, not even bothering to shut my door and yell for help.
“Somebody! My wife is in labor!” I roar, jerking her door open. I turn her so her legs are on my shoulder and the head is out. Fuck, holy shit, the head is out.
Look at all that red hair!
“I can’t push anymore,” she cries, exhausted, and tired of being in pain.
The doors open from the hospital and a few nurses rush out with a gurney.
“The head is out. We can’t move her,” one of the nurses says to the doctor.
“What do you mean you can’t move her? She is having a baby.”
“And we’re going to be delivering it, right here.”
I gulp and stare down at my amazing wife. “Cherry, Whitley, look at me.”
She shakes her head and that bottom lip quivers. “I know. I don’t know. I don’t know how tired you are, and I don’t know how much pain you are in. I can’t imagine. I could never be as strong as you. But you’re almost there. You are doing so good, Cherry. So good. One more big push and we’ll have our baby. Can you do that for me? One more.”
She leans on her elbows, bracing herself. Whitley nods, and the movement flicks beads of sweat on the leather seat. Another contraction hits her, and she gives it everything she’s got. She yells, pushing with every ounce of strength she has.
The Hangover Page 23
