1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  As I drive deep into her welcoming body, I’m filled with the explosive surety that this is where I’m meant to be. Right here with her because nothing else matters the way this matters.

  She sobs against my neck, wrapping her arms and legs around me so tight I can feel the echo of her heartbeat in my chest. “I love this. I love this so much.”

  “Me too. It’s so good with you. So perfect.” I drive between her legs, fucking her hard and fast, unable to take things slow, no matter how much I want to make it last. But I’m already too far gone, desperate to come, to lose myself so deep inside of her she’ll feel me for days.

  The best I can hope for now is to hold on until I bring her over a third time.

  “Are you going to come for me again?” I drag my teeth across the sensitive skin where her shoulder meets her neck, biting down as I feel her pussy tighten around me in response. “Are you going to come on my cock, baby?”

  “Yes,” she gasps, rocking against me, meeting me thrust for thrust. “I’m so close. God, it’s so good.”

  I clench my jaw, fighting the wave of bliss bearing down on me, threatening to pull me under, refusing to come until I feel her go. I hitch one of her knees even higher and grab a fistful of her ass, leveraging her closer until I’m grinding against her clit at the end of every thrust and the air fills with the sounds of our joining.

  Hot, sticky, urgent, wild sounds that make the pressure in my balls unbearable. I’m moments away from losing the fight against my own orgasm when her body locks down around me, squeezing my dick so tight I’m helpless to do anything but pin her to the wall with my last thrust and come like the world is ending.

  I roar something unintelligible as my cock begins to jerk inside her pussy, throbbing against the entrance to her womb. I can feel the hard ring against the tip of me and for the first time in my life I’m keenly aware that, without the interference of the pills she takes every morning, we could be making a baby right now.

  Surprisingly, the thought gets me off even harder.

  I’ve never considered the prospect of getting a lover pregnant anything but terrifying—even with Rachael, I wasn’t ready for baby makes three—but the thought of Penny big with my baby takes my orgasm to a completely new level. I imagine the way her breasts would swell along with her belly, her entire body transforming because of what we did together, and keep coming. Waves of bone-deep satisfaction surge through me until my knees go weak and I would have slid to the floor, taking Penny with me, without the wall there to hold me up.

  Finally, my cock begins to still and the last of the tremors rocketing through me abate and I’m left clinging to Penny, heartbeat gradually slowing in the wake of our hottest fuck ever.

  Maybe the hottest fuck ever though, at the moment, I’m too orgasm-stupid to make that kind of call.

  “Wow,” she finally says, her breath still coming faster against my cheek.

  I make a too-satisfied-to-do-anything-but-grunt sound that Penny answers with a hum of approval. Usually, the exchange would make me smile. But there’s nothing funny about the thoughts in my head right now, thoughts of taking Penny bare with no protection, no pills, nothing to stand in the way of getting her knocked up, from making her mine in the most primal, basic way.

  Just imagining it is enough to get my blood pumping faster and my cock thickening again, two minutes post coming my brains out.

  Clearly, I need an intervention.

  Or, at least, some time to think.

  Having more-than-friends feelings for Penny is one thing. Wanting to fuck a baby into her so the entire world will see she belongs to me is entirely too caveman for my liking. That’s not who I am and not who I want to be. Considering becoming a dad should be something discussed rationally with the person you love, preferably long after you’ve said, “I do.”

  I’ve got to get out of here, away from Penny and the crazy-making lust spell she casts over my body and get some perspective.

  With one last kiss to her cheek, I pull out and set her feet back on the floor.

  “I know you said no to ice cream.” I fight to keep my tone light as I pull my pants back up around my hips, not wanting Penny to have any clue I’m on the verge of a meltdown. No need to upset her with my crazy. “But the only thing that could make this afternoon better is an obscene amount of ice cream. I’m going to go kill a few cartons. Do you have any special requests?”

  “No, but I’ll get dressed and come with,” she says, smiling dreamily up at me. “I don’t like the idea of being away from your cock for more than a few minutes at a time.”

  “I don’t like that idea, either,” I say, thinking fast. “But I do like the idea of you relaxing in a bath while I hunt dessert. I think you deserve a little pampering after a job well done.”

  Her brow furrows lightly. “Are you sure? I don’t need to be pampered.”

  “I insist.” I kiss her forehead before moving away, grabbing my shirt from the floor as I head for the door. “It’s all part of the Magnificent Bastard customer service experience.”

  I’ve already scooped the keys up in one hand and am reaching for the doorknob with the other, seconds from making my escape, when Penny calls out—

  “Is everything all right, Bash?”

  I turn back to her with what I hope is an easy grin. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? I just had a great day and a great fuck with one of my favorite people. Things couldn’t be better.”

  She nods, but she doesn’t look convinced and the eyes that were so clear and open a few minutes ago are clouded. A part of me wants to turn around, carry her back into the bedroom, and kiss that vulnerable expression back onto her face, but the other voice, the “what the fuck is wrong with you” voice, is louder.

  So instead, I wink and promise, “Be back soon.”

  Closing the door, I hustle down the steps, trying not to think about how much my speed walk toward the car resembles running away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  From the text archives of Sebastian “Bash” Prince and Penny Pickett

  From Bash: Hey, remember the other night when you said I didn’t like being alone? Well, I just ended things with Christie and left halfway through our date because I’m so okay with being alone.

  Take that, Pickett.

  Loner, out.

  From Penny: Christie, the woman who owns the bookstore?

  Bash: The same. Christie with the sexy librarian thing going on and the amazing taste in grilled cheese condiments. But I left because it wasn’t working and I am so INCREDIBLY OKAY with being alone.

  Penny: This is the same Christie with a much younger brother she adopted after her parents died, right?

  The little boy you were supposed to meet this weekend?

  Bash: Your point?

  Penny: No point. Just making sure I had the right woman.

  Bash: Are you as bad a liar in real life as you are via text?

  Penny: I’m not lying…

  I’m withholding.

  There’s a difference.

  Bash: You shouldn’t withhold from your boss.

  I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in a few states.

  Probably New York.

  Lots of things are illegal in New York that you wouldn’t think are illegal. Like throwing a ball at someone’s head for fun or walking around with an ice cream cone in your pocket.

  Penny: *farting unicorn emoticon*

  Bash: I’m not that easily distracted. Though that’s cute. I like unicorns, especially when they fart.

  What are you withholding?

  Penny: *farting panda emoticon*

  Bash: So you think I shouldn’t have called it off with Christie? Is that what you’re implying with the farting animals?

  Penny: I can’t speak to that. I don’t know Christie.

  Bash: Just say it, Penny. Whatever it is. Say what you want to say.

  Penny: *heavy sigh*

  Fine, but if you get pissy the way you did last time, I’m never tellin
g you anything you don’t want to hear ever again.

  Deal?

  Bash: I’ve never been “pissy” in my life. I experience manly anger that arises from justifiable causes.

  But yes.

  Okay…

  If I had plans to be pissy, I’m canceling them now. I just want to hear the honest opinion of a friend.

  Penny: You don’t like being alone.

  But you don’t like being too close, either.

  And maybe beautiful Christie, with her big brain, grilled cheese skills, sweet little brother, and complicated life that is just begging for a commitment was tempting you to let down your guard and….get close.

  But close doesn’t have to be bad, you know, Bash.

  Maybe it might even be good for you. Some day. When the time and the woman are right.

  I would just hate to see someone I care about, who I know is a kind, wonderful man, who also clearly needs people, spend the rest of his life in a series of superficial relationships and wonder why, when he’s on his deathbed, his assistant is the only one who sends flowers.

  Though I will. Send flowers. And hold your hand. And anything else you need.

  Because you are worthy of that kind of loyalty and much more.

  I just hope you know that.

  The end.

  Bash: That was the longest text ever.

  But thank you.

  If I’m on my deathbed, there’s no hand I would rather hold.

  And at least, that way I would get to meet you in person. :P

  Penny: *farting starfish emoji*

  Bash: That’s my favorite one yet.

  Night Penny.

  And…thank you. Really.

  Penny: Good night, Bash. You’re welcome.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  By the time I get back to the cottage an hour later—after a drive around Southampton that does very little to illuminate why I’ve suddenly gone full-on caveman—Penny is gone.

  But there’s a note on the kitchen counter—

  Bash,

  The girls called and wanted me to meet them at the beach for a walk and some shell collecting. They were so pitiful I couldn’t say no.

  I took one of the winery’s bikes and headed over to Sandcastles Park. I’ll bike back in an hour or two.

  Call me if there’s anything you want me to pick up on the way.

  Excited to see what flavors you chose!

  Xo

  Penny

  Simultaneously disappointed and relieved—maybe enlightenment will come while I’m sitting on the porch alone eating ice cream—I resign myself to an afternoon of high fat intake and a pile of Men’s Health magazines I haven’t had the time to read.

  The hours crawl by and Penny’s return time comes and goes with no sign of her. I go for a run, work my way through my trainer’s most grueling series of circuits using a pair of wrought iron turtles I steal from the cottage’s front garden as weights, and then undo all my good work by eating a second pint of chocolate covered cherry fudge dream for my evening meal. Huddling in my sweat-damp shirt, I spoon my dinner while watching the light fade until the tree limbs behind the cottage are shadowy fingers straining toward a sky they’ll never touch. With every hour that passes without Penny’s smile, her smell, her body warm and within potential-fucking distance, I grow increasingly depressed.

  By six thirty, when I step out of the shower to find a text saying that she’s agreed to sleep over in a tent in her mother’s backyard tonight, I’m feeling low enough to text back a petulant—

  But what about Phillip?

  Aren’t you worried he’ll see you there and assume there’s trouble in paradise? Why would a woman as “in love” as you are want to spend the night camping with two eight-year-olds, instead of at home with her sexy almost-fiancé?

  Penny: Phillip and Mom are out having dinner with friends. They don’t even know I’m here and we’ll be asleep by the time they get back. Nanny Helms has promised to keep the overnight a secret and help me sneak my bike out of the golf cart garage in the morning.

  I think it’s important that I stay.

  I don’t know if it’s the wedding or the fact that they haven’t seen me in a few weeks, but the girls are being pretty clingy. I think they need a night where I put them first. A little spoiling from their big sister, you know?

  But I’m sorry to leave you there alone with all that ice cream.

  Forgive me?

  Frowning, I text back, Of course. Nothing to forgive. Tell the girls hello for me. Hope you all have a wonderful time.

  And I do. I hope they have a wonderful time.

  Without me. While I sit here alone, wondering if Penny is really doing this for the girls or because I ran like a fucking coward the moment things between us got heavy.

  I spend the night tossing and turning in sheets that smell of Penny and wake up determined to un-fuck things.

  I still don’t know why I’m running hot and cold or what it means that I’m dying to get a woman pregnant after years of dreading that outcome with the same fervor I dread a case of chlamydia or the inevitable rise of a super-flu that will turn New York City into a snotty breeding ground for death, but I know I don’t want to spend another of what might be my few remaining nights with Penny alone.

  When my phone dings at eight fifteen and a text pops up from Penny asking if I want to meet for brunch at the Fiddling Crabs, I can’t text back—hell yes, I’m starving—fast enough.

  I type the address into my phone, promise to meet Penny there at nine and practically sprint to the shower. Thirty-five minutes later, I’m clean, wearing a Hamptons-approved uniform of khaki shorts and a designer blue polo and swinging into the Fiddling Crabs to learn that Penny, and guests, have already been seated at a table for five near the windows.

  Francis and Eddie wave enthusiastically as I cross the restaurant while an older woman with her gray hair pulled into a braid seated next to Penny—Nanny Helms, I presume—glares at me like I just farted in church. For her part, Penny looks happy but tired, and…guarded.

  Her gaze, as she lifts a hand in greeting, is warm but not too warm, and my hunch that she was using the twins as an excuse to avoid spending the night with me is confirmed. I am in the doghouse and likely to stay there until I do something to make up for making love and then making tracks.

  With so many witnesses, there won’t be a chance to apologize during brunch, but at least, I’m being offered a foot in the door to Penny’s good graces.

  Determined to make the most of it, I force a big grin for the table at large.

  “Hello, ladies.” I lean down to peck Penny gently on the cheek, hoping she can feel the “let’s make up” vibe in my kiss. “I’m not sure what I did to earn four beautiful dates for breakfast, but I’ll take it.”

  Nanny Helm’s lips prune in response, Francis rolls her eyes, and Eddie laughs and says, “You sound like our dad. He’s sooooo cheesy.”

  “Oh hush,” Penny says as I slide into the seat beside her. “Daddy Frank is the sweetest man in the world.”

  “I know.” Francis nods, sending her brown ponytail bouncing. “But he’s also cheesy. You should see him with Kate. All they do is make melty, gooey eyes at each other all day long.”

  “And say gross love stuff.” Eddie crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue.

  “The girls’ dad remarried last year,” Penny offers for my benefit. “Kate is their new stepmom, who is also very sweet. They spend holidays with them in L.A. Now stop that!” She reaches out, ruffling Eddie’s hair until her little sister uncrosses her eyes. “Your face will stick that way and then you’ll be sorry you made fun of people who are in love.”

  “Gross.” Francis wrinkles her nose. “I’m never going to fall in love. I’m going to become a botanist and study the Amazonian rain forest.”

  “If it isn’t deforested by the time you’re grown,” Nanny Helms says in a voice as dour as her somber face. “Current projections aren’t good. Conservation effor
ts aren’t as aggressive as they should be.”

  “That’s why I don’t eat meat,” Francis said, picking up her menu. “Cattle ranching is the number one cause of deforestation.”

  Eddie casts a mournful glance my way. “I like meat, but we hardly ever have it. It’s all fish all the time. Or quinoa.”

  “Or egg white omelets,” Francis says with a heavy sigh. “I’m going to turn into an egg white if I have to eat anymore. Can’t we have pancakes, Nanny? Just this once?”

  “Your mother said no sugar today. Not if you want cake at the wedding.” Nanny Helms sniffs critically though I’m not sure if it’s Anastasia’s no-sugar policy or the girls’ whines in response to her announcement that displeases her.

  Probably both. She seems like a person who is displeased by a number of things.

  From there, the discussion turns to what the girls are allowed to have for breakfast, whether or not they’re too old to be forced to order from the children’s menu, and what to do with the rest of the day.

  By the time my coffee and OJ are delivered, it’s become clear that Penny has promised herself to the twins until the bachelorette party tonight. Which means odds of a proper reconciliation between Penny and me, the kind that involves her coming on my cock multiple times while I assure her I’ll never fuck and dash again, look less than promising.

  I’m going to have to take my opportunity to apologize where I can get it.

  So when Penny gets up to use the restroom halfway through the meal, I wait a few moments and follow, lurking in wait behind a wooden statue of two fiddling crabs in the hallway outside the ladies’ room until she emerges.