by Vivien Vale
Highly unlikely.
I think the man has been the fucking epitome of selfish since he came screaming into this world.
There’s a nagging voice in my mind that doesn’t care what I think, though. The voice of doubt insists that my father used to be just like me.
Which, of course, makes me just like him.
I turn the TV off with the angry press of a finger, tossing the remote onto the seat near me.
Clearly, that’s not the distraction I need.
I stand, pacing the length of the room, unsure how to quiet my raging thoughts.
I stomp into the kitchen, flinging open the refrigerator. All I need is some kind of distraction. Anything will do at this point.
I’m not even surprised when the first thing my eyes land on is a bag of baby carrots.
Baby carrots. Babies.
Very fucking funny.
I don’t even bother looking at anything else. With my luck, we’re also stocked up on motherfucking baby corn.
I close the refrigerator and return to pacing.
At least pacing is still safe.
My mind however, is not.
All it takes is a tiny vegetable to set my mind racing again.
Is she or isn’t she?
I know that I should be patient, but the fantasy of our child has become so real to me. I don’t know if I could stand to give up on it, even temporarily. And, let’s face it, if she’s not pregnant this time, then she will be next time, or the time after that.
It’s not just about the contract or the money. It’s about us now. Our child.
June’s child.
June, who popped into my life and changed everything.
June, who lives with me, falls asleep next to me.
I’ve never been so excited to wake up as I am now, knowing that she’s there.
Things have grown so rapidly between us. We’ve come so far so fast.
I’ve even spoken to her father on several occasions.
It’s hard to imagine a man that oozes the same kindness and charm as June, but believe me, he exists.
Soon, he’ll be family to me, too.
A very different kind of family than the one I’m used to. The kind that gets excited when you call, who laughs deeply and earnestly, the kind whose smile you can hear in their voice.
June’s father was so proud to hear of everything she’s accomplished here. So proud of her new job, her independence, her happiness.
While some would think he’d also be proud of her landing a billionaire, I genuinely got the impression that he’s just happy she’s happy.
The way fathers are supposed to be.
Not that the billionaire thing didn’t come up; of course it did. And in a town like the one June’s from, word travels fast. The old man nearly laughed himself into a frenzy, describing June and me as the talk of the town—and hoping that that piece of shit Kody has had an earful.
I hope he has, too.
Of course, we didn’t mention the contract. The circumstances of our relationship might be a bit much for a small town father to understand. They might be a bit much for any rational person to understand, come to think of it.
It doesn’t matter, though. Rational doesn’t live here anymore.
Only me and June.
I’m so deep in thought, it takes me a while to notice her standing there. Who knows how long she’s been watching me pace?
“Hey!” I say when I finally see her.
She’s standing in the doorway to the hall, dressed casually in jeans and a pink top. I hardly notice her clothes, though, it’s the smile she’s wearing that draws me in.
She’s beaming at me. Grinning from ear to ear in a way I’ve never seen on her or anyone else.
It’s a smile so full of joy that I feel my face instantly responding, even though I have no clue what we’re so fucking happy about.
“What’s the smile for?” I ask.
She takes a single step closer.
“I’ve just got some good news,” she says. “Some great news.”
I’m racking my brain, trying to think what news could elicit this response…
Is Kody dead?
No, probably not.
Did they build a fucking boot barn?
This last thought makes me chuckle, and I’m about to ask her when a new idea occurs to me.
“June…” I say
She sees it click, her smile somehow impossibly growing larger.
“Are you?”
She’s nodding her head frantically, like she’s afraid even to voice the words. I see tears spill from her eyes and slide down her face. Still, she smiles.
“You’re pregnant?!”
She laughs, pure joy.
“Yes,” she chokes out. “I’m pregnant!”
I don’t even remember moving, but suddenly, I’m in front of her, laughter now spilling from my own mouth.
“You’re pregnant!”
I pick her up, swinging her madly around in a circle.
“We’re gonna have a baby!”
I find her mouth, kissing her as if she’s just given me the greatest gift in the world.
Which, of course, she has.
She kisses me back, her tongue sliding its way between my lips even as happy tears continue to spill down her face.
I can’t remember ever being this happy, this excited.
I look down at June, and she is without a doubt the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, tears and all.
I’ve never wanted her more.
June
Everything sexual I’ve ever felt, I’ve felt with Carter.
Still, I’ve never felt him quite like this.
He holds my jaw in his hands, forcing my mouth up to meet his. His kiss is hungry and passionate. His teeth nip at my lower lip, sending pleasure down the veins of my neck all the way to my pussy.
My womb.
The place where Carter’s child is growing inside me.
I want him. Holy hell, I want him badly.
But he’s gentle about it, too. He’s gentle about everything. There’s something restrained about his kiss, something delicate about the way he holds me.
I can feel a raw energy beneath his touch just begging to be unleashed. But I can also feel that hint of hesitation. These tender moments of abject restraint.
It takes me a second to realize that nothing’s wrong.
It takes a little longer than a second for it to fully kick in.
He doesn’t want to hurt me.
“Carter,” I laugh, pulling my lips away. “You’re not gonna break me, honey.”
He blinks at me a couple of times, running his thumbs across my cheekbones like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my face.
“You’re the most precious fucking thing I own,” he says. “It would kill me to see you break.”
“Are you sure about that?” My smile grows wider. “You might like it.”
A dark, sensual growl purrs at the back of Carter’s throat. “Those sound like the words of a woman who wants to be broken.”
Then he’s lifting me, pulling me up until my legs are wrapped around his waist.
I can only manage to laugh in response as he makes his way towards the couch.
There are many things that I’d like this man to do to me.
Everything. Anything.
Should I break in the process, I wouldn’t even mind.
He sets me down on the couch gently, reverently. It’s as if I’m a goddess, and he my sole worshipper.
I feel like someone beyond a goddess—maybe a high priestess?—as I watch him lower himself to his knees in front of me.
June, bringer of life and lover of Carter. I could get used to this.
He stays in place for a long moment, his eyes raking over every inch of my form. They pause occasionally—on my nipples, my pussy. His gaze leaves me wanting more.
I wonder if he can see the changes already. I certainly can.
I was nearl
y positive about the pregnancy even before I took the test.
My nipples are darker, harder than they’ve ever been. Even my own scent is different, not to mention my increased sense of smell.
His expression is lost somewhere between lust and amazement as he finally leans in, kissing me gently on each thigh.
I hear him growl again at the back of his throat and feel a spark of excitement, knowing what he’ll do next.
He surprises me though, taking the time to find my stomach and kissing me there instead.
His kisses are light, protective.
The way a father kisses their child’s forehead after a bad dream.
The simple act has me overwhelmed with emotions, tears once again threatening my eyes.
We’re having a baby.
He works his way up to my newly darkened nipples, his tongue exploring the altered flesh. His lips take each of them in, sucking and nibbling until I moan in delight.
I gasp as his fingers find me, rubbing roughly against my clit, as his mouth moves harder around my nipples.
They slide inside me easily, rubbing against my now drenched pussy.
I move in time with them, forcing them deeper, craving his touch even more now that I have it.
His lips pull back from my nipples—now harder than ever, hard enough to slice through steel. I look at them in amazement, already so different from before.
I take the opportunity to reach for his head, gently guiding him lower, and hear him chuckling in response.
I’m no longer afraid of the things that I want—yet one more thing that Carter has given me.
When his face is between my thighs, I spread my legs open further, moaning in anticipation.
He doesn’t take his fingers out of me, instead pushing them deeper the moment his tongue touches my clit.
No matter how many times we’ve been together, the intensity still shocks me. The pleasure that burns through me at his every touch overwhelms. I feel liquid heat inside of me spreading, consuming.
My body syncs with his movements, hips thrusting, perfectly timed with his fingers.
His tongue slides over me, again and again. Flicking, sucking, tasting.
His breath brushes across my skin, which feels hot and humid when he exhales and cold when he inhales. It sends my senses soaring, my nerves hardly able to keep up.
I can hear him moan, and I delight in his pleasure. The way he touches me, tastes me… like I’m the best thing he’s ever consumed, better than chocolate, better than strawberries and cream.
I understand too well, feeling the same way whenever he’s in my mouth.
I can never hold out long. Every fiber, every nerve sings to me.
The fire inside becomes a raging inferno, and I feel my hips thrust faster, harder against him.
The build-up seems to last an eternity; every time I think I’ve reached my tipping point, I find more ecstasy instead. Faster and faster I move, his fingers thrusting deeper, his tongue flicking in a frenzy to match my pace.
I come hard, my pussy tightening around his fingers, my own digging grooves into his flesh where I cling to him.
“Oh yes, yes, Carter, oooohhhh,” I cry out repeatedly as the orgasm rips through my body.
His arms wrap around me, and I revel in the warmth of his body. I could stay like this for hours, but I know I’ve got to return the favor. A high priestess has her own work to do.
It’s now my turn to worship him.
Still coming down from my high, I lock eyes with him. He’s stroking my face.
I wish this moment would never end.
But I know it must.
I’m craving him. Needing him inside of me. Desperate to feel the way his cock fills every vacant inch of me.
I look at him, his mouth still wet, his eyes shining.
I’m still shocked at the depth of emotion a simple glance from this man can stir within me.
What I feel most in this moment, though, is gratitude. I’m so grateful that Kody, bastard that he is, chose that stupid skank. I’m humbled by whatever force it was that drove me here, that made me stupid enough to lock my keys in the truck.
I even feel affection for Carter’s father, without whom there would never have been a contract, never an “interview”.
For every misstep and betrayal that led me here, naked in front of this man, I feel grateful.
There are so many things that could have gone differently. Hell, I could have been married and still living in Wheatfield. I could’ve been there right now, probably making dinner for Kody, maybe even pregnant with his child.
The thought makes me cringe.
There isn’t a place on earth I’d rather be than where I am right now. There isn’t a man alive whose child I’d rather have growing inside of me.
I keep looking into his eyes and can almost see the same thoughts going through him.
How lucky we are.
How amazing our lives are going to be.
I stand, grabbing his hand to draw him up with me.
His cock is hard between us, throbbing in time with his heart.
I need him more than I ever have before. I’m dying to feel him inside of me.
For the moment though, I just wrap my arms around him, drawing him nearer.
I cling to him like I’m clinging to this new life—fiercely, unrelentingly. We will have everything we’ve ever wanted, everything we never even knew we wanted.
And we’ll have it together.
Carter
Her body. Her taste. The way she moans when she comes—the way she moans when I make her.
Everything about June Johnson is fucking addictive to me. My father’s vice is women. My brother’s vice is whatever the fuck he can get his hands on.
And June—June is my vice. She’s my heroin, my whiskey, my high-stakes gambling and my illegal street racing all rolled into one.
Only—fuck. She’s good for me, too.
This woman might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire fucking life.
Not my vice, then. June’s my good habit, and I intend to do her as frequently as my body will allow.
“I’m taking you to bed, sweetheart,” I announce, wiping her honey from my lips.
Before she can say something sassy back—because I know she’s fucking aching to—I sweep her off her feet and carry her to my bedroom.
I’ve got something else to make her ache for.
For once, and to my utter surprise, she doesn’t talk back at me. Instead, her face nuzzles into my chest.
Immediately, something tugs at my insides. It’s an entirely new experience for me. Is this called worry, concern, maybe even anxiety? Since I’m a stranger to it, I can only guess.
So far there’s never been any one in my life I’ve even remotely felt connected to. There’s never been anyone I think I actually had to worry about.
I mean, I’m a fearless, ruthless, and no-nonsense kind of guy. I rule with an iron fist and when I say jump, people jump. No one has ever gotten under my skin—at least not until now, until June.
The feeling is so overwhelming; I think I might burst into tears.
News flash: I’m a tough guy, and I don’t fucking cry.
Am I hormonal? Could it be catching? Hadn’t I read somewhere about sympathy symptoms guys have when their woman is pregnant?
Holy fucking shit.
I want to search those eyes of hers and see if she’s okay, but I’ve got her in my arms, and she’s got her eyes closed. Maybe she’s meditating.
“Isn’t it amazing to think there’s a tiny human being growing inside of me?” she whispers.
Her voice is so quiet I struggle to hear what she says.
The words tug at my heartstrings.
Suddenly, there are two people to worry about.
It’s beyond me to imagine what this tiny creature growing inside of June’s tummy must look like. Does it have arms, legs, nose, eyes, and ears already? Or is it merely a tiny blimp?
Frantically, I search my brain for any useless information I might have stored there about babies, but, alas, I draw a fucking blank.
I mean, what guy pays attention to this shit anyway?
“Just think, you and I have created something together, something amazing,” she pauses. “At least, I hope he or she will be amazing.”
Now in my domain, I put her on the bed and look her in the eyes. Those exquisite hazel eyes of hers. They’re soft, a little like fudge.
“He or she will be fucking awesome.”
She gasps and clutches her tummy with both hands.
“Carter,” she grouses at me, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “No swearing in the presence of the child.”
I chuckle and push her hands away.
“Sorry,” I mumble and kiss her tummy.
For a moment or two, I just stare at the area where I assume our son or daughter is growing.
The thought of a son or daughter chokes me up again. Man, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“Wasn’t there something you were going to do?”
Her question snaps me out of my fucking daydreaming.
“You bet,” I growl and roll her onto her front.
Before she can protest, I start massaging her neck and back.
“I need to make sure there’s no tension anywhere in this gorgeous body of yours.” I murmur into her ear.
I hear her giggle into the pillow.
Slowly, my hands move downward, taking the time to explore every nook and cranny of my beautiful woman.
No, she’s more than that—she’s the woman I love.
Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like I love June.
“I love you,” I now whisper into her ear and start kissing her down her neck.
She mumbles something, but the words get lost in the pillow. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m pretty sure she said she loves me, too. I know she does.
But I wanted her to know I love her.
“I mean it,” I suck on her ear lobe and smother her in butterfly kisses. “I really love you.”
Then I move away from her neck and let my mouth follow her spine.
When I get to her ass, I can’t help myself. I smack it.
It’s not a hard smack. But it feels good, and I can tell she likes it because her ass is wiggling toward me, begging me to do it again.
