by Amy Brent
“Are you going to join me or what?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows and resting my chin in my hands.
“I’m just enjoying the view,” he said. “Can’t a guy have a minute?”
I smiled and rolled onto my back. Ethan watched, his cock rock-hard and reaching for his belly button, as I let my legs fall open. Then, I began touching myself for him.
The lust in his eyes set my soul on fire. I played with my clit. Then, as if dared by my own subconscious, I slipped a finger inside my tight, wet pussy.
It was too much for him.
Ethan joined me on the bed and pressed his hand on top of mine, keeping my finger inside me. He pressed his own fingers to my clit and kissed me. I moaned into his mouth and relished the feeling of him controlling me. I was so turned on.
When we broke apart, he took me gently by the hips and turned me over. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and slid it under my hips and then asked me if I was comfortable. When I nodded, he pushed my legs together and held himself above me in a push-up position.
I had never had sex like this before.
I looked up at him over my shoulder as he lowered himself down. I felt his cock slip between my thighs, and then he eased it up, pushing between my folds and into my pussy. The pillow beneath me helped him enter me at just the right angle.
I closed my eyes, and he brought a hand up the side of my jaw, leaned over me, and kissed me upside down. All the while, he was moving in and out of me.
It was exquisite. My body was singing with pleasure as he buried his shaft in me as deep as he could go. He held my face to his, demanding I stay where I was, and he fucked me like no one ever had.
When he released my jaw, he put his hand in the middle of my back, encouraging me to lie flat. I did as he wanted, my breasts flattening on the mattress beneath me. I curled my fingers in the blankets as he planted his fists on either side of me.
His thighs slapped against my ass as he fucked me harder. Each thrust pushed the breath from my lungs, and I couldn’t stop myself from gasping and moaning every time he filled me.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to my shoulder. He rained kisses up the back of my neck and along my jaw. He pulled my hair to the side and pinned my head in place as he bucked more wildly against me.
I was about to come undone. I told him I was going to come. He straightened above me and spread my thighs and ass so he could get even deeper inside me. He rocked back and forth, his cock slipping in and out of my wet pussy and hitting the deepest spot he had ever hit.
My toes curled. I buried my face in the blankets, bracing for the scream I knew was coming that I couldn’t stop.
When I came, I lost myself. I screamed into the blanket, and my pussy tightened around his cock. Ethan came at the same time. I could hear his deep moan in the back of his throat as he blew his load. My orgasm lasted longer than any I had ever had.
When we were done, it took me a while to catch my breath. I stayed where I was, draped over the pillow, as Ethan rolled onto his back beside me. He was out of breath too. His eyes were closed, and one hand was resting across his chest.
My body was completely satisfied. All I had wanted was sex. The second trimester of this pregnancy had been wreaking havoc on my hormones, and I was so thankful Ethan was there and more than willing to fuck my brains out on a near-daily basis. If not for him, I wasn’t sure what I would do. That ache that always bloomed in my belly couldn’t be eased without his cock. No toy would ever do the trick. Ethan was the only thing that could tame my sex-crazy mind and body.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Ethan put his hand on the back of my thigh. We stayed like that, exhausted from the day. When I woke, I was tucked under the blankets and facing the proper way. Ethan was sleeping peacefully beside me, and pale light was streaming in through the windows facing the living room.
The view wouldn’t be better than the feeling of sleeping next to Ethan, so I closed my eyes and drifted off again, enjoying the feeling on his bare thigh pressed against mine.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ethan
Devon wasn’t in the bed beside me when I woke up the following morning. The house was bright, and I knew it was later in the morning than I had intended on getting up. I sat up, looked around with still-sleepy vision, and got out of bed when I didn’t spot Devon. I threw on a pair of sweats and made my way downstairs.
She was outside on the patio. There was a mug of tea in one of her hands, and she was bundled up in layers of blankets she had taken from the couch. I made myself a cup of coffee, grabbed a blanket of my own, and joined her outside.
She looked up when I sat down beside her.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
Her face was makeup free. She was radiant.
“Like a baby,” I said, sipping my black coffee and scowling down at it when I burned my tongue. “I feel rejuvenated, though. This mini vacation was exactly what I needed. What about you?”
“Slept really well,” she said, her eyes returning to the blue sky and ocean, “and I can’t remember feeling this good. Guess what?”
I took another sip of coffee, burned myself for the second time, and then set it down on the ground beside my chair. When I straightened, Devon’s bright green eyes were fixed on me, and she was smiling. She looked happier than I ever remembered seeing her. “What?” I asked, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
“I felt him kick this morning,” she said.
“Really?” I asked, leaning forward and immediately looking at her belly. I don’t know what I had been expecting. She was wrapped in layers of blankets. There was nothing to see.
She laughed and nodded. “If he starts up again, I’ll tell you so you can feel him.”
I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that encompassed the feeling of contentment that was filling me up. “That would be awesome,” I said, feeling like “awesome” was the biggest understatement of the century.
Devon wrapped herself up tighter in her blankets. The only thing exposed to the chilly air was her face and hands, which were wrapped around her mug. She sipped it thoughtfully, unaware of me still staring at her.
She was beautiful. Once more I was struck by the urge to lean in and kiss her. It would be a kiss that I didn’t intend to lead to sex. It would be a gesture, a simple way of showing her I cared.
But I stayed where I was, realizing for the second time that kissing her wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. She was the mother of my child, sure, but it was all circumstantial. It was all for a cause.
Try as I might, I couldn’t deny the feelings I was starting to have for her. I liked having her around—no, I loved it. Her company was always warm and joyful, and I never felt better than when I was with her.
I took a sip of my coffee and stared into the dark liquid. These feelings would probably go away after the baby was born. When life settled back to its ordinary routine, and Devon moved out to pursue her own life, these feelings would naturally fade, and I wouldn’t spend every minute of every day thinking about her.
“There’s no food in the house,” I said, getting to my feet and forcing myself to stop staring at her. “We should head into town and get some breakfast.”
“Good idea,” Devon said, standing with the blankets still wrapped around her. “I’m starving.”
I loaded the trunk of the limo with our bags and had Eddison give us a ride to town. We stopped at a small corner cafe that served full American breakfasts. Devon ordered eggs benedict and practically drooled all over the table when the waitress put it in front of her. I had hash browns, bacon, and eggs, and regretted my choice after seeing Devon’s meal.
She went through it like nothing I had ever seen.
“Hungry?” I asked, unable to stifle my laughter as she crammed the last bite into her mouth.
She looked up at me, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel from the bread and egg, and nodded. Once she swallowed, she dabbed her lips with the paper napki
n. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the food was in front of me. It was so good.”
“Good,” I said, before finishing my own meal. We talked while I ate, and when the bill arrived, I handed the waitress my credit card. As she was punching in the total on her credit machine, I caught Devon searching through her purse for her phone.
She pulled it out, dialed someone’s number she knew by heart, and then held it to her ear. Her face was drawn, and she pressed a finger to her lips. She began chewing on her nail as she waited.
No one answered. She put the phone back in her bag and looked everywhere but at me once the waitress was gone.
“Were you calling Heather?” I asked.
Devon shot me a quick look before lowering her eyes to her lap. She nodded and didn’t say a word. I suspected she might cry if she tried to speak.
We left the restaurant and piled back into the limo to head back to the city. We spent the first twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Devon stared out the window at the ocean until there was no more ocean to see.
Then, she called Heather again.
When my sister didn’t answer, I shimmied across the leather bench seat so that my leg was pressed up against hers. I put my hand on her knee, gave it a squeeze that I hoped was comforting, and then wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me without hesitation and rested her head on my chest.
“She just needs more time,” I said softly. “She has to come around eventually.”
“I don’t know,” Devon sniffled. “We’ve never gone this long without talking before.”
“The two of you love each other too much to let anything come between you. Trust me. I know my sister. She’ll work it all out on her own, in her own way, on her own clock, and when she’s ready, she’ll reach out.”
“I hope so,” Devon said, her arm reaching around my waist.
We rode like that for a while. I didn’t mind the way she held me. In fact, I rather liked it.
“I’m happy that I’m pregnant,” Devon said suddenly.
I looked down, only able to see the top of her head. “You are?” I asked.
“Yes. I have been almost since the beginning.”
“Why?” I asked.
She shifted and sat up. I left my arm around her shoulders. She looked out the window for a moment. I was worried she might be crying still.
When she looked back at me, her eyes were dry. Her cheeks were pink and so was the tip of her nose. She looked adorable.
“I was about to do something kind of stupid in order to make the money I needed for NYU,” she said.
“Oh?” I said, curiosity getting the best of me. I waggled my eyebrows at her. “Do tell, my dear, do tell.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled. I couldn’t help but grin at the sound. She clasped her hands in her lap, and I began absently tracing circles on her far shoulder. When I realized what I was doing, I found I didn’t have the willpower to stop.
“Well,” she started shyly, “I only found One Billion Fantasies because I was doing some research online.”
“What kind of research?” I egged her on.
She bit her bottom lip and giggled nervously. “Had this not worked out,” she said, pointing at her tummy, “I was going to be a cam girl. Start up my own side hustle. Strip in front of the camera. You know, the whole thing. I was even coming up with sexy nicknames.”
“What?” I half laughed, half snorted.
“Don’t judge me!” she cried, smiling from ear to ear. “I had no other options! I needed to make the money. You know how important school is to me, and there was no way I could make the kind of cash I needed in such a short time without doing something unconventional.”
“You have to tell me what some of these nicknames were.” I chortled.
“Oh, I don’t think I do,” Devon said, leaning away from me and giving me her best don’t-mess-with-me stare. “I don’t think anyone ever needs to know about the names.”
“Come on,” I pleaded. “Hit me with at least one. Which one was the least embarrassing?”
“None,” she said. “They were all terrible.”
“Better than Harold?”
Devon burst into laughter and slapped her knee. “Okay, yes, better than Harold. If you must know, one of them was The Silver Siren. I figured I would cover myself with silver glitter and wear a really dramatic gothic kind of mask and—” She stopped talking when she saw how screwed up my face was from trying not to laugh at her. “Stop it!” she cried. “I bet you couldn’t think of anything better!”
“No,” I wheezed. “I probably couldn’t. But you know, when you roll it around in your mouth a bit, it doesn’t sound so bad. The Silver Siren. You could have worn some really fancy glittery nipple covers too. You could have been a mermaid,” I exclaimed. “Think of it. Men love sirens. You could have totally played up the mythological aspect.”
“Are you poking fun at me?”
“Of course I am,” I said, rubbing her shoulder lightly, “but in all honesty, you would have made a very sexy cam girl. Very sexy.”
“I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. It would have been so awkward, all alone in a room in front of a camera. I can only imagine the weird things people would have wanted me to do for them.”
“I like it,” I said, picturing Devon spread-eagled on her bed in nothing but a silver mask. “You’re a bit of a naughty girl, aren’t you?”
“Am not,” she said defensively. “Who’s to say if I would have even gone for it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but like you said, school is important to you. I’m sure you would have found a way to make it work. You wouldn’t have had to work hard, anyway. You’re hot as hell. As soon as the camera was on, you would have had people sending you money.”
Devon’s eyes locked on mine. “You think?”
“I do,” I said.
She licked her lips, and her eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “I’m glad that I got knocked up instead,” she whispered.
There it was. That need to kiss her again. I wanted to trace her cheek with my thumb as I cupped the side of her face and drew her toward me. I wanted to taste her lip gloss, explore her mouth, and run my fingers through her hair. I wanted to show her what she was doing to me.
Instead, I grinned, gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and said, “Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Devon
I frowned at my reflection in the full-length mirror Ethan had hung on the back of my bedroom door for me when I’d first moved in with him. I was nice and round now. I was seven and a half months into my pregnancy, and my body was starting to give me all the signs that it was going through a lot of changes. Changes that I was ready to reverse.
My feet were sore all the time. They were swollen and so were my ankles. I felt like I had lost the feminine curve from my half to my heel, which didn’t really matter because I couldn’t wear any of my cute shoes anymore. I had to wear things that were wide and gave me a lot of arch support.
My hips were wider, and all I was wearing were stretchy black pants with thin waistbands. I didn’t like having any pressure on my belly. The baby was a squirmer and a kicker, and he didn’t like anything tight either. I couldn’t blame him.
The worst part of the whole thing was I didn’t feel sexy anymore. I felt slow, sluggish, wide, and unattractive.
I ran my hand over my belly and looked down. I couldn’t even see my feet. I sighed.
“I can’t wait until you’re out of me,” I said. “It’s been fun up until now, I swear, but this whole extra weight thing is really killing me.” I smiled to myself as I felt a little kick to the right of my belly button. “I know it’s not your fault. It’s all how it should be. But still,” I want my body back, I thought.
I knew it would have been easier to deal with all the changes in my body if I had my best friend to go through this with me. Heather still wasn’t talking to me. I hadn’t tried to reach ou
t to her since coming back from the Hamptons a month ago. I had taken Ethan’s advice. It was best to give Heather the space to work through it on her own, and she would come to me when she was ready. Forcing it to happen any earlier wouldn’t be good for anyone.
But not talking to her was weighing on me. I was broken. I missed her terribly. Even though this pregnancy was not at all how I imagined my first pregnancy would be, I had always pictured Heather there by my side through the whole ordeal. I had seen her at the hospital when the baby was being born. I had seen her planning my baby shower. I had thought about shopping for clothes and supplies together.
Now, I felt like I had lost all those experiences, and I wouldn’t ever be able to get them back.
I groaned and wiped my eyes when I realized I was crying for the fourth time that morning. My emotions were running high from all the changes in my hormones, and every time I thought about Heather, I cried. I couldn’t help it.
I tried to think of the things in my life that were going well to take my mind out of the deep pit of despair.
Ethan’s parents were thrilled about the baby. We saw them for dinner on a near weekly basis, where Ethan’s mother inevitably pulled me away from the men to flip through catalogs with designer cribs, bassinets, mobiles, rocking chairs, and all other types of goodies. That would be exciting until I remembered that once the baby came, I was out of the picture. I’d be moving out into a new apartment, probably somewhere close to campus, and Ethan would carry on with his life and his son.
My heart leaped into my throat, and I broke down in sobs again.
This was what I had signed up for. None of this was a surprise. These seven and a half months had all been leading to the same end game. Why had it become so hard to accept how it was going to end?
I needed someone to talk to. I needed to get my feelings out there, to confess what was really going on my mind. I needed someone who would help me work through everything.
I needed Heather.
I went to my bed, sat on the edge, and cried harder than I ever had. I knew Ethan would be home from work soon, and I didn’t want him to see me in such a state, so I tried to get everything out before he came in the door. None of this was his problem. He hadn’t signed up to be a therapist when he’d applied to the surrogacy program at One Billion Fantasies. He had signed up to be a father with no strings attached.
