by Liv Bennett
She grins mischievously but shares nothing that goes through her beautiful head. “I’ll get a taste of your freshly fucked pussy if you tell me why you got hot again.”
Her eyes widen and slowly travel to mine, her cheeks red with the after-sex glow. I don’t need any incentive to go down on her. My mouth is already watering to get a taste of her soft and swollen folds.
“The pregnancy fetish thing might have gotten into me a little.”
“Ahhh.” I laugh. “So, you like your husband creepy.”
“I guess there’s nothing wrong with getting turned on by your own wife. And I must say my boobs look great in shirts.”
“And in my hands.” I grab them, before taking one into my mouth and she returns to her pre-orgasmic euphoric state just like that. My hand slides over her belly down to her pussy, lingering at her entrance to get another whimper out of her. When she does, accompanied with a shiver, I move down, licking every inch of her skin on my way. Her pussy is swollen and leaking my semen. I massage her clit for a few seconds, while watching her face between the mountains of her breasts. As soon as my tongue touches her clit, she wraps her legs around my head, pushing my tongue into her opening.
She tastes incredible, despite my sperm, and I think that too has something to do with her pregnancy hormones. Or the pregnancy fetish is really getting into my head.
“Oh, Adam. It feels so good. I’ll never let you do anything else.”
I continue licking and fucking her with my tongue until she screams my name over and over, then she relaxes her legs, releasing me from their tight hold.
“I won’t be able to go to work today.” She rolls on her side and sticks my pillow between her knees. “If someone asks why, tell him it’s your fault for working me up like this.”
Despite her obvious tiredness, Taylor accompanies me to the construction site. She’s going with me instead of to the pile of work waiting for her at the office, only because it’s the first day of the Berenson project and Mr. Hawkins will be joining us.
Bree insisted on joining us, although it’s not related to her duties, so I make a detour to pick her up from her apartment building.
“Mr. Hawkins is so sexy,” Bree says as soon as she gets into the car.
I roll my eyes, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Good morning to you, too. For the record, no flirting with any of our clients is allowed.”
“Like I didn’t figure it out myself. I can’t flirt with him if I want anyway. I become a bundle of nerves around handsome men. I guess that’s the reason why I’m still single.”
“What happened with the bald hottie?” Taylor asks, making me turn to her in a flash.
“Which bald hottie?” I ask, and both of them start laughing at the same time, making me feel déjà vu of the exact same scene with my twin sisters.
“Nothing,” Bree says. “He and I went out a couple of times, but then he stopped calling. As unbelievable as it may sound, I guess I wasn’t his type.”
Taylor ignores my stare and turns to Bree. “He’s a fool if he thinks he’ll find a woman with better qualities than yours.”
Waiting for an explanation as to who the fuck they are talking about seems like a waste of time, so I press the gas pedal and drive toward I-5. We stop at a gas station so Taylor can pee, but other than that the drive was quick, and we make it half an hour before the time Mr. Hawkins and I set up to meet.
The site is empty, which makes me suspect whether we’re at the correct location. It has to be, but no one from the subcontractor’s crew is there, although I specifically requested that the employees arrive at eight to have enough time to inspect the material and prepare the tools, generators, and equipment for Mr. Hawkins’s arrival and go over the details of the steps before officially starting the project.
Looks like this new crew has different work ethics than the one I work with in L.A. Which means I’ll have to spend a longer time at the construction site to make sure things go according to the project timeline. A discomforting feeling in my gut tells me this has nothing to do with their business ethics but is caused by a manipulator outsider who gets a peculiar kick out of causing us problems.
I do the only thing I can in this situation and phone the subcontractor. If he doesn’t know where the hell his employees are, then no one will. His secretary puts me through as soon as she hears my angry complaint. Under Taylor and Bree’s cautious eyes, I demand an explanation from the man whom I saw only once. I should have met with him more than just once in order to tell if he was a reliable person. Which would have saved me from the enormous embarrassment that I’ll have to face when Mr. Hawkins shows up and finds no one working on his property.
The subcontractor claims not to have received the pollution control certificate and a payment for leasing dozers. I, myself, processed the transaction for the rentals, and the certificate had been mailed to his company address a week ago through Fed-Ex. My chest tightens, and I loosen my tie to get some air into my lungs. Why didn’t he inform me about the missing documentation before, instead of making me go through this stress?
I try not to show my anger to Taylor, to keep her nerves calm. She doesn’t need this kind of stress, at least not when she’s vulnerable with pregnancy.
As soon as I find a scanned copy of the certificate and email it to him, I call Henry, from accounting, to send me a copy of the payment transaction so I can forward it to the subcontractor.
Finally, after several minutes of arguing on the phone, the subcontractor accepts his mistake and comes to terms with the demands of the project. He promises to get the entire crew and the machinery ready for the afternoon, which still won’t save me from a disappointing meeting with Mr. Hawkins.
I dial Chloe to give her a heads up about the delay and notice Taylor rolling her eyes. Before I can speak, Chloe says her father can’t make it to the construction site today because of personal reasons. She laughs as she emphasizes the word “personal,” making me think of an involvement with a woman. He can take all the time in the world, at least until I sort out what kind of people are going to work for the project.
I convey the good news to Taylor and Bree and watch their faces relaxing. I guess with the time the two have been spending together, their expressions have become strikingly similar. I find myself smiling, despite the stress, when Bree lets out a long breath of relief with the same over-the-top way Taylor usually does it.
Despite Bree’s presence, I find myself moving toward Taylor and embracing her, desperately needing the serenity her arms offer.
“I’d love to stay and get to know the crew, but I have a meeting with Henry at noon. We’ll be going over the bookkeeping of the project,” Taylor says, leaning her head back to stare up at me.
“There’s no need for me to stay, either. I’ll just drive you girls back to work and come back in the afternoon.”
Bree gets in the car and slams the door. “Oh, what a shame. I was excited to see the big bulldozer.”
“Is that the nickname you picked for Michael Hawkins?” Taylor jokes as she follows her inside the car, winking at me. I can’t help but laugh, in spite of the pressure pulling me down.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve got the feeling that he already has a woman in his life,” I say and start the engine.
“That’s just a detail. A temporary thing until he sees me,” Bree says.
“Way to go, girl. I love your confidence.” Taylor turns and hi-fives Bree.
I wouldn’t really care if Bree hooked up with Hawkins any other time, but not when he’s our client, which he’ll be for at least a year. So as not to ruin their good humor, though, I keep my mouth shut, but I’ll have to talk to Taylor so she warns Bree subtly if this joke gets out of hand.
Taylor keeps her hands on her belly throughout the drive, making my heart swell with love for her and our baby. It’s clear how much she wants it. A small part of me, though, is terrified that something will go wrong, and she’ll end up fearful and tra
umatized. Women get to experience the growth of the babies first hand, but they’re also the ones who’re hurt with deep scars when faced with miscarriage.
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Taylor chose to suffer alone after the miscarriage, instead of letting me share her pain. I thought we were one in this marriage, but I guess we still have a few miles to go, to get to where my own parents were in their marriage. Hand in hand through the darkness and light.
“Hey, Adam. The road is ahead of you, not on Taylor’s face,” Bree says, pulling me out of my deep thoughts. I shake my head, narrowing my eyes pointedly toward the rearview mirror, and slide onto the exit for the interstate.
I decide to join the meeting Taylor is going to have with Henry, because I’ve been neglecting the financial reports altogether for the past weeks. So unlike me. The delay of the project start wasn’t actually too bad after all, and will help me catch up with the accounts.
As soon as Taylor settles on her chair in the conference room, she yawns, her eyes moistening with tiredness. I guess I’ll have to stop having sex with her in the mornings, as much as I like it, so she has some energy left for the work. Her hair falls in beautiful waves around her face like a thick curtain, when she leans forward to examine the spreadsheets. I have to consciously fist my hands to prevent myself from reaching out, running my fingers into those wild strands, and pulling her against me.
Her cheeks and lips are a glowing pink. Something warm stirs inside me as I notice her large breasts straining against her bra beneath her shirt. Her tongue brushes her lips ever so slowly, as if she’s aware of her undeniable effect on me, and wants to torture me to no end. My desire to feel the warmth between her legs again is making it hard for me to keep still in my seat.
Her lips move, and her eyes meet mine, the impact of those beautiful blue pearls quickening my pulse. “Adam? Haven’t you been listening?” She flashes me an evil grin, biting her lower lip. Her eyes flare with desire for the briefest second before her face turns serious, and she signals toward the spreadsheets. “I thought you canceled the furniture purchase.”
It takes longer than a few seconds to get myself together and ignore my erection to focus on her words. “Yes, I did. Why?”
“Looks like you didn’t because we’ve been charged with ninety-five grand,” Taylor replies.
“I sent them an email to cancel the whole thing. I thought it went through.” Henry flips through the paper stuck in front of him, worry written all over his face, rightly so, because I personally asked him to cancel it the day I found about it.
“Apparently not.” My voice is louder than I usually use with my colleagues, but there’s no way I’ll tolerate losing such an amount of money for a stupid mistake. “Why didn’t you go after it?”
“Uh.” He stares at the papers as if he’ll find a sound excuse there. “It came around the time of my vacation. I’d sent the email on the last day before my vacation started and left a reminder about it to the temp who was going to take over during my absence.”
He’s right. I should have been the one going after the cancelation. I focus my attention back to Taylor. “Have you heard from the furniture store in the meantime?”
Taylor shakes her head, her fingers drumming on the table. A nervous quirk. “Looks like we’ve been swindled.” She pushes the laptop and points toward the online banking feed. “We were charged that amount three times on the same day.”
“What the...” I stare at the screen with my mouth wide open. “Fuck. How did that happen?”
“They’re paid with checks.” She stands up and moves me aside to type on the keyboard. “Let’s see whose signature is on the checks.”
Holding my breath, I wait for the page to load. No one would knowingly write three checks of the same amount to the same store on the same day. “Taylor,” is all I can say when the signature appears on the screen. I’d recognize Taylor’s signature from feet away, and this’s obviously hers. No doubt.
“Oh, God. It can’t be. I didn’t write those checks.” She covers her mouth with her hand, when she glances down at me. “It’s impossible.” She has no reason to pay that amount of money anyway.
“Then, what happened?” I ask.
Henry comes around to my other side and examines each scanned check one by one on the screen. “It indeed looks like your signature.”
“It wasn’t me. I don’t remember signing any check.” Taylor plops herself back on her chair, the color drained out of her face.
“I’ll call Bree,” I say and dial Bree’s phone. “After all, she’s the one who started everything.”
“Someone might have forged Taylor’s signature,” Henry says. “Someone who has access to the company checks.”
If I had continued reviewing the payroll every Friday, like I used to do before finding out about Taylor’s pregnancy, I’d have known about this problem in time to have acted on it. Bree doesn’t answer, so I leave a voice mail, requesting her to come to the conference room ASAP.
Slipping my cell back into my pocket, I turn to Henry. “Thanks for now. Taylor and I will take it from here.”
Taylor shifts in her chair, spreading her legs and pushing her belly up to a comfortable position. “What are we going to do now?”
I reach for her hand to give it a squeeze and offer her a little comfort, despite the rage that starts simmering inside me. As much as I try to give her a stress-free life, my efforts turn out to be void each time. “Whoever he or she is might strike again. We should freeze all company accounts to prevent further fraudulence.”
“Not much is left anyway on the account. That must be why the subcontractor complained about not receiving the payment for the lease.”
“Good point. I’ll make sure to wire him the amount from my personal account.”
“Why?” Taylor frowns.
I know what she’s implying. That this isn’t my company, hence I’m free from its responsibilities. But she’s wrong. My entire career depends on it, not to forget my shares and pension portfolio. “Until we figure out who’s behind the scheme.”
“No, the involvement of your money may create complications with IRS,” she says, and I have no choice but accept her reasoning. “Before doing anything else, though, we should call the furniture store to demand the money back.” She types on the keyboard, searching for the contact information of the store.
Never in a million years would I think someone among my colleagues would stab us in our backs by stealing money that is earned with sweat and hard work. Each one of them is like a member of my family, and I can’t even find it in me to suspect any of them. I’ll be damned if the thief is indeed someone from one of us.
The most obvious two suspects, though, are Bree and Henry, since they’re the only two people besides Taylor and me who have access to company accounts. But of course, someone with good IT knowledge might hack the accounts and easily print out the checks from the software, then forge Taylor’s signature. Bree was on sick leave for her broken her leg the week Henry left for his vacation. How conveniently picked, especially because it was also one of the busiest times of the year.
My emotions are pulling me toward suspecting the temp to be the one behind everything. Then again barely out of college, she was a mere beginner and could hardly complete her duties, let alone attempt a crime of this size, where she’d be the first one to have fingers pointed at.
Henry doesn’t exactly match the criminal profile either, with only a year or two left before retiring and having spent more than a decade of his years in Edelman Constructions, working efficiently and loyally and never complaining about late hours at the office.
I don’t even want to think of Bree stealing money from us. Jack granted her a scholarship of over a hundred grand for her studies. Just that should be enough for her to stay loyal to the company. And, she proved her loyalty over and over while Valerie was trying to get at Taylor. Hell, it was only thanks to Bree, we could save Taylor from the fake suicide.
/> “I can’t find the contact information,” Taylor says, interrupting my thoughts. “The website doesn’t seem authentic. Have a look at this. The address they give doesn’t exist according to Google Maps.”
Life drains out of me, although I don’t know why I’m even shocked. I call Bree again, and when she answers, I order her to the conference room. Must be the anger in my voice that makes her show up in less than two minutes, despite the crutches she has to use to walk.
“Will you please explain to us how you came up with the idea of ordering furniture from a fake store?” I ask, not making any effort to tone down my disappointment. I thought she was cleverer than that.
“I received a call from one of the sales agents. She told me they were a new store and offered discounts to get clients. She sent me brochures of their products. I don’t know, everything looked legit.”
“Guess what.” I jump to my feet, unable to keep my anger in check. “The address where the store should be located doesn’t even exist.”
Bree backs away from me instinctively, establishing a safe distance between me and her. Not that I’d do anything to her, but I guess the aggressive aura that’s shielding me right now would scare off anyone in a mile radius, because I’m not just angry at her but also disappointed with her foolishness. Her face turns as pale as Taylor’s, and her voice trails down as she speaks, “What have I done?” One of her crutches falls down, as she covers her cheeks with her hands.
“Yeah, Bree, what the fuck have you done? They stole more than a quarter million dollars thanks to the purchase you ordered,” I yell.
“Tone it down, Adam,” Taylor orders, her voice covered with agitation, stands to hold me by my elbow, pushing me back. “She might have made a mistake, but she didn’t steal the money.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re a quarter-million dollars short.” I run my hands through my hair, anger coiling inside me.
“Let’s calm down for a minute and focus on a solution instead of barking at each other, okay?” Taylor hisses between her teeth and motions toward the chairs. I snap the crutch from the floor to hand it back to Bree and pull a chair for her to seat.
