When Troy met Elle, it wasn't love at first sight. It was anxiety, a panic attack that threatened to take over him. A gift given to him by his time in the army.
Then she caught him with his pants down. Sure, he threw some sly comments at her, took things too far, but his fear of her was starting to fade.
Until he found out they were going to be forced to marry, and she became as beautiful as she was overwhelming to him.
Now he's scared that he won't be the soulmate of his soulmate. Finding out that their one night together could have created a new life made that anxiety even worse.
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Fertility and Fate
A Desperate Woman's Good Fortune
Selena Savage
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If I want to inherit the money and house my mother left me, I have to get pregnant. Today.
Last week I found out that I must get pregnant right away. If I don't, I won't be able to test next month and get my inheritance. With no child, that money goes to the charities she preferred. I don't know why my mom would put that in her will. She knew I wasn't even dating.
But I need that money. Because I have school debts. Heavy school debts.
Can I afford to take time off of school to raise a child? No. But my mom somehow had over three million dollars just saved up and ready for me to take it... if I'm with child.
So the past week I've been bringing home one night stand after one night stand. A few decided to ditch me when I said we couldn't wear a condom. A few didn't wear a condom but decided to cum on my tits, or my ass. Only two men came in me. That's not enough people for me to feel safe in assuming I will get pregnant.
I must venture out, to another bar, and hope that one last man might be into risky sex. It seems a man like that would be easy to find. I guess not.
A black taxi takes me to the newest bar that close enough to my house to be worth going to. It's so new that I don't know anything about it, and as a college girl I know all about bars.
It's more like a big black box than a bar. The sign on the front of it says The Heritage. The entrance is in the back, where a large man is standing, guarding the door.
He checks my ID (I'm 23, but to be honest I look younger than 18. You would think that's a blessing, but it's just annoying) and then lets me in, and it's then that I realize this isn't a bar. It's a gentleman's club.
My little black dress looks like a nun's habit compared to the bikinis the dancers are wearing. Some of them aren't even wearing those. Every man in the building is wearing a suit and you can just tell they're climbing the corporate ladder. Some might even be a New York elite one day.
A few of these dancers will get lucky, they might get plucked out of this oblivion to be a kept woman or even a wife one day. That and the huge tips they get keeps them from hating themselves.
I can't exactly leave now, can I? Still, I'm the only non-dancer woman here. I have to admit, though, that the things they can do with their bodies is impressive.
I notice one man's eyes on me. Even though he's receiving a lapdance, he's watching me from across the room. I move to one side and his eyes follow me. My face burns, and I turn away, looking around for some place to sit where I won't be at risk for a lap dance.
The bar is the only real choice.
With the deep electronic beat making me feel just a little bit dizzy, I sit down on one of the tall stools and order myself a drink.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the man push his dancer off of him and pay her. She scoffs, flipping her long black hair and prancing off. She's beautiful, she probably isn't used to a man pushing her away. Poor girl.
The man, like all the other men, is wearing a suit. He's the only one with a beard, though. His eyes look tired, almost bored. His blond hair matches his beard. This guy looks more like he belongs in the country than in a club.
I look up at him with the most innocent face I can manage. His eyes are blue. Just, blue. No gray, no green accents. Light blue, like a baby's.
“May I sit with you?”
His lips curve with a perfect, charming smile with each word. They look soft. I take a second, letting him know that I'm the one in charge by checking him out. Weighing the pros and cons of letting him talk to me.
His eyes flash with momentary insecurity, and that's when I know I have him. He wants me, badly. He doesn't have to know that I need him. Not right now, at least.
“Sure,” I answer. Simple. Straightforward. Tease him with a lack of emotion. This is how I've gotten every possible daddy before this man.
“So, what are you doing here? Waiting for your boyfriend?”
The joke catches me off guard. I snort into a sip of my red wine, then wipe it off my chin. “No,” I say. “I'm not waiting for my boyfriend. Maybe I'm here to enjoy the women.”
He nods, almost with an air of sarcasm. “Sure. You just aren't the kind of girl who comes here alone.”
“Well, you are the kind of man who comes here, clearly.”
He laughs at my joke, placing his elbow on the bar table and leaning his head against his hand. It's an endearing, honest position. He isn't trying to pick me up, now. No, now he's genuinely enjoying my presence. Interesting.
“What's your name, then?” He asks.
“Honey,” I answer.
“Honey, what a sweet name.” I watch his lips curl up at his own pun as I roll my eyes. “I'm Noah. Noah Wilson.”
I take another sip of my wine, watching him for a second before setting down my glass and holding out my hand. He takes it for a firm handshake, then holds my hand and flips it palm up. I try to pull it away.
“Hey, stop that,” he chastises. “My grandma used to do palmistry.”
Deadpan and flat, I reply, “Really.”
He nods with another laugh. “I picked up a few tricks from her. Want to see?”
“Sure, why not.” I hold my palm flat so he can see the lines better.
Noah studies my hand. “Now, see this long line in the center of your palm? This is your fate line. Yours digs deep into your skin, which means you have an inheritance coming to you, but it's broken into two lines. That means you have a destiny that is rife with trauma or difficulties.”
What the hell. I can feel my eyes widen as he tells me all this, and it hits home. He has me pegged. This could just be a guess, but is that the most likely answer?
“And this line, cutting across your palm from the side?” He points to a line curving up towards my middle finger. His touch is warm, pleasant. “That's your heart line. This one is deep, too, which means you are quick to stress. It's curved up, which means you're an intellectual. It's long, and it's chained with other lines as well. This means you're idealistic and that relationships weave in and out of your life, almost like fate.”
I nod, listening to him closely. I'm learning more about myself, things that I know to be true but never really think about.
“Ah, and your children lines.”
I suck in and gulp down some air. Noah looks up at me, his blue eyes curious.
“You have three of them. All of them are deep, and long. No miscarriages, no early deaths. Very lucky.”
The breath comes out as a long sigh. I take my hand back from Noah and rub it with the other, as if to scrub off the anxiety it's caused me.
“You seem stressed out about kids,” he says. “Do you have some already?”
“No,” I say. “But hopefully soon.”
He raises his eyebrows and I realize that was really stupid to say. He probably thinks I'm going to bait him into some awful relationship. I'm going to have to try to pick up another guy tonight once he runs off. Damn.
“Interesting. Listen, I have
a few palmistry books back at my house. If you're interested...”
“Yes!” I blurt out. He looks even more surprised, but then he laughs.
“Alright, come on.”
Noah said something about fateful relationships. Is this going to be one of them?
The drive to Noah's house is interesting, in that he told me about his car. It's a rare Mustang called a Super Snake, and it's very rare.
“I must admit, Noah, I don't really know anything about cars. If you wanted to impress me with all this, well,” I shrug. “I just don't know what is and isn't impressive.”
Noah grins at me as we turn into a long driveway leading up to a huge house. “I'll explain it all to you sometime.”
He keeps talking to me like this won't be a one night stand. This guy was getting a lap dance less than an hour ago, and now he's trying to treat me like a girlfriend or something. It's weird but... it's also kind of nice. This is the most normal guy I've met this week.
Watching the house grow larger as we come closer to it puts into perspective just how much land this guy has. This huge house surrounds itself with land that's covered with trees and ponds and horse stables and gardens. It's dark out now, but if I could see everything in the day it would probably be spectacular.
“Who are you?” I ask, turning to Noah wide eyed. “You have to be someone, right?”
“Nah,” he replies, waving his hand. “I'm virtually a nobody, to be honest. I just made some good choices with money my father left me, which was tiny compared to what his father left him. I made a point to rebuild my family's fortune. You wouldn't know me, though, because I do all of my work behind closed doors and away from reporters.”
He comes over to my side of the car and helps me out, holding my hand with an aching tenderness. I wobble a bit on my heel. Noah catches me. His big arms cradle me as I struggle to right myself.
Once inside, he takes off his suit's jacket and lays it over the arm of a leather couch. A lamp clicks on, and he turns to smile at me. The floor has a gray rug over it, and one wall is a darker gray than the others. Down the hall, I see a room that has a bit more color than this one.
I hear the trickle of water, and then notice a fish tank behind Noah. In it, tropical fish happily swim around. It's probably six feet long, a huge tank. Some of the fish are unfamiliar to me, too.
After feeding the fish, Noah watches them for a second. With his back turned to me, I realize how badly I want this man. He's normal. Blissfully normal. Even with all this money, he can hold a conversation and doesn't seem to find me dull. His body is gorgeous, too, with big shoulders hidden beneath his white shirt.
“Come here, I'll show you my books-” He turns around with his hand held out for me to take it, but he stops in his tracks. My dress is slipping down my body after I silently unzipped it. I stand before Noah with only my shoes, panties and bra on.
His eyes flicker with delight.
“I didn't come here for your books, Noah,” I say, smiling. Blushing. I'm usually very good at flirting, but under his gaze I feel just a little bit smaller. Less sure of myself.
“All business, huh?” He asks. Moving closer to me, he places a hand on the small of my back and pulls my body into his. I hold in a gasp, my stomach fluttering. A finger and thumb pinch my nipple through my pink bra, and that gasp makes its way out along with a moan. “I like that. I do have to warn you, though, that I like sex in a very particular way.”
“Oh? Nothing too freaky, I hope, I don't have a safe word planned.”
Chuckling, he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “No, nothing freaky. Just raw. No condoms. I like risky sex, and if you're not into that then I'll have to call you a taxi.”
Oh, hell. He's pushing all my buttons. Did I give myself away somehow? Or did he learn how to read minds too?
“Still interested?”
“Terribly,” I say. My breath is drawing shorter the more excited I become. Noah swings me up into his big arms and carries me up the stairs into a huge room. One wall is entirely windows. He lays me gently on the bed, and then goes over to the curtains.
Instead of pulling them tighter, he opens them wide. Silvery light from the moon pours down onto him. Looking like a god, he turns to me.
“What if someone's watching?” I ask.
“Watching me impregnate the most beautiful woman I've ever seen? Let them.”
He climbs up onto the bed with me, and stares at me for a long time. With his hand, he ever so lightly brushes my jaw. He caresses my features, and I relish in his touches. I never realized how much I wanted a man to touch me tenderly, to have soft skin touch me all over.
When he kisses me, I don't resist. I can't. It's passionate and full of fire and I just want him to claim me! My whole body accepts the pressure and sensation, the tingles and heat that arise from between my legs.
I stop breathing for just a moment, melting into him. My hands clutch his shirt. His soft, warm lips press against my own, and our tongues tangle.
Noah's mouth leaves my lips, but his taste lingers. He kisses my neck, sucking in a bit of my flesh and breaking the blood vessels. He's leaving his mark on me, a lovely bruise.
Why am I feeling so invested in what must be a one night stand? The confusion only heightens the pleasure that he's giving me.
A shiver falls down my back. I wrap my arms around this man's torso, my hands pulling his shirt up. His teeth graze my flesh. It feels so good. “Noah,” I moan.
Noah slides his hand under my bra. With his fingers clamped on my nipple, he grows and bites into my neck. I gasp, my toes curling. My nipples are going hard, my womanhood pulsating with heat and desire.
I can't wait for Noah to touch me there, to feel how warm and wet he's made me. I want him to know how much of a slut I am for him. Pain and pleasure both course through my body as he bites me and pinches my nipple, and I writhe beneath him. I want him to fuck me like a whore, like a cheap whore!
I bite my bottom lip and arch my back as Noah removes my bra.
“Your body is as perfect as I expected,” he groans, pleasure evident in his eyes. “I can't wait to fuck you.”
“Please! Please fuck me!” Waiting for him is almost unbearable.
His fingers scratch down my sides, leaving red streaks that claim me as his. Beautiful, territorial, sexy. Noah's hands reach beneath me and pull my chest towards him, so that he can suck on my breast.
He kisses my collar bone before moving down, his hands pushing my thighs apart. He spreads them wide, pushing aside my panties and exposing my pink flesh.
“I can't wait to taste you,” Noah says. It's a little bit embarrassing for him to say that, and I blush a deep red. When he nibbles at my pussy lips, though, I stop caring and give in. His fingers push aside my thin panties. Noah explores my pink pussy lips, pulling them wide and exposing my clitoris. It's a little bit swollen.
Noah is seemingly driven wild with desire. He dips his tongue into my folds. Tasting me. Savoring the experience. Dragging a finger up and down my folds, he teases around my clitoris, never fully touching it. I gasp, raising my ass to try and trick him into touching me. I need some release!
“Please!” I beg.
Noah doesn't give in. He seems to be enjoying torturing me. A wicked smile crosses his face and he licks my folds again, lapping up my wetness but never once touching my most pleasurable spot.
“I am begging you, Noah! Please touch me, stop teasing me!” I grip the blankets underneath me.
Noah watches my face contort with frustration before finally giving me what I want. His tongue slips over the hood covering my clit, and I jolt upright with an “OH!”
I grip his hair, directing his mouth to apply pressure in certain spots. He understands my motions, and it feels good. It feels so damn good. His tongue darts all around, still teasing me, only sometimes pressing against my clitoris. I moan and whine and grunt, trying to come close to orgasm, but Noah has complete control over that. It's maddening.
�
��Take me, Noah. Cum in me. I want it,” I say. And those are the magic words. Noah stares up at me for a second, watching me to see if I'm just pleading for release. But no.
I want him to cum in me badly.
He pulls my panties off, then slides me down the bed. I sit up, running my hands from his pecs to his hips, before unbuckling his belt. I pull his pants and boxers down.
His pubic hair is well trimmed. His cock... is huge. It's standing upright, thick with blood. He's virile. If he can't get me pregnant, no one can. A bead of sweat falls down my neck.
Noah wraps his hand around his manhood, his fingers moving up and down his shaft. “Spread your legs,” he commands. My stomach leaps.
Laying back, I spread my legs wide. I even pull my pussy lips apart, unashamed. He comes closer to me, and I wrap my legs around him, locking him into position. He places himself against my entrance, savoring my heat before entering me.
I grip the bed sheets and moan. My inner walls ripple and move, gripping his cock within me. I pull him in deeper.
He pushes himself back in slowly, then pulls out again. And then he picks up speed. I scream as his cock hits me in just the right place, and the pounding just comes harder after that. His thumb rests on my clit and rubs with each thrust.
With my legs wrapped around him, and his hands holding my hips, he pulls me onto his cock and fucks me hard. He twitches, and I know he'll cum soon.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Don't stop!”
He keeps fucking me until he cums hard within me, his hot sperm pounding against my cervix. I can almost feel his swimmers trying their best to impregnate me.
He groans and, once his balls are spent, he collapses on top of me. He laughs as our foreheads bump together. Rolling off of me and rubbing his forehead, he takes my hand and holds it tight.
“I'd like you to stay the night, if that's okay.”
I just nod, smiling. I feel warm and content. I crawl up to the top of the bed while Noah undresses, and we both sleep naked. He holds me tight all night.
An immediate wave of nausea hits me the next morning. Could this be implantation nausea? The other times I had sex, everything felt normal the next morning. Today, though, I feel... distinctly different.
BITCH (A Romantic Suspense Novel) Page 16
