Color me intrigued. What sort of gift did I need to keep going with? Alexander got up from his chair, kissed Madeleine’s forehead, and walked over to the pass-through that connected the kitchen and living room. As he came closer to the table, my eyes were drawn to the neatly-wrapped gift box in his hands.
“I thought we agreed on no anniversary gifts,” I said, flustered.
I was both annoyed at Alexander for breaking our agreement and annoyed with myself for believing him, until he told me that it wasn’t an anniversary present. “This is a ‘just because’ gift,” Alexander explained. “I’d been waiting on it for a while, but it finally came in this week.” He paused. “Go ahead and open it.”
After removing the wrapping paper in a messy pile, I found what appeared to be a clothing box. Maybe it was a sweater from LOFT that I’d been hinting at for my birthday. That was the only guess I could come up with, but the box felt far too light to be any sort of clothing. “What is it?” I asked.
“Keep going,” Alexander said with a laugh.
I pulled the lid off the box to reveal and dark colored folder. Anticipation filling my mind, I flipped open the folder to find a small stack of papers in the right pocket. I struggled to fill my lungs with air as I recognized the logo on the top left corner of the first paper in the stack. Dear Mrs. Preston, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to our institution for the fall semester, in your selected major of Business: Marketing. As a transfer student…
Tears clouded my vision before I could read any further, and I searched for the words to offer to Alexander. “I’m… I’m going to college?” I asked.
“If you’d like to,” he said. His voice had notes of thoughtfulness and tenderness. “I know you’re upset you never finished your degree, so I figured I would get your transcripts from your school and send out some applications for you as a transfer student. This is just the first one we’ve, well, you’ve, heard back from.”
I heard myself saying, “Oh my goodness”, over and over again, but it didn’t even feel as though my head was attached to my body. I couldn’t have predicted that I’d ever have the opportunity to go back to school, especially not as a new mother. “What about the office? My job?” I asked.
“We’ll make it work,” Alexander said. “They have some night classes, or you could cut back your hours at the company. Whatever makes you happy.”
“Wow,” I muttered. That was all I could really say to such a kind—and huge—gesture.
Alexander pushed his plate of lasagna to the side and reached for both of my hands. “Casey, I do want you to know something, though,” he said. “I love you the same, regardless of whether you have a college degree or not. If you do this, I want you to do it for you, not because you feel like you have to prove something to anyone.”
That sealed the deal for me. I wanted to do this, and I wanted to do it for me. I also wanted to do it for Alexander, and for our baby, and I decided that that was okay. I could live out all of my dreams at once. We got back to eating and flipped through the course guide as we munched on our lasagna.
That fateful day in the clinic felt like a lifetime ago, but I could still picture Alexander walking in like it was yesterday. The story was still crazy, even with the abridged version we’d told people who’d asked how we met. After all, if anyone had told me that I would make love to a stranger, get pregnant with his child, fall in love with him, and get my happily ever after, I would have sent them straight to the loony bin. Throw in a gorgeous house, a new love of camping, and a chance to go back to college, and forget about it!
But, here I was, with the most wonderful man I could ask for, a man so caring and warm and sensitive, a man who bought our daughter clothes and cooked my favorite meals and surprised me on a regular basis. We had a relationship that was strong and fun and sexy—more than I ever knew was possible. It was a new, modern kind of fairytale, and it was even better than I had dreamed.
Wet
CHANCE CARTER
CHAPTER 1
KANE
Diary Entry
I want to make you wet.
The best way to make you wet is with my mouth. Specifically, my lips and tongue.
I’d lay you back on my bed, strip you naked, and slide my hands slowly up your legs. The sensation of my fingers lightly grazing your bare skin would cause a tingle. Instinctively, you’d open your legs. You’d close your eyes, arch your back, and let out a long sigh as you felt the warmth of my breath on your pussy.
Very softly, I’d blow on it, just enough to let you know I was there. I’d reach up and put my hands on your breasts, squeezing your nipples in my fingers, and softly kiss the lips of your pussy. A woman has two places on her body where you can make out with her, the lips of her mouth and the lips of her pussy. I love making out with both.
I’d touch my lips against yours, gently kissing your pussy, squeezing your nipples, before finally letting you feel the wet, soft, warmth of my tongue. My tongue would slide between your lips, entering you, and slide as far in as I could reach. Your moan would tell me I’m on the right track. Your legs rising up, your ankles resting on my shoulders, would tell me you wanted more.
I’d let my tongue curl and twist inside you, before sliding it up over your clit.
God, I love your clit. Your clit is like the tongue, and I’d let my tongue dance with it as I embraced you. I’d play with your folds, suck on them, softly massage them with my lips and tongue. I’d make you moan my name.
Do it now.
You know my name.
You know I want to hear it.
Moan my name as you imagine my mouth making out with your hot, delicious, beautiful, soaking wet pussy. It’s working, isn’t it? Admit it. You’re wet already. I’m not even there. I’m a million miles away, and already the thought of my warm, pink tongue is making you wet.
I’m sliding in and out of you. I’m sucking up your juices, relishing your secret, precious taste. I’m swallowing.
Your legs clench, your thighs tighten around my head, and you reach down to the back of my head and push me in deeper. You want me in there. A place you hold so sacred. So private. The place you guard more closely than any other. You want my mouth in there, drinking you, relishing you, sliding in and out of you.
You squirm and writhe on the bed as the pleasure builds. You feel my mouth move from your clit, my tongue sliding deep into your pussy, and then sliding down beneath you to your ass. I slide my tongue over the muscle of your anus and make you blush with embarrassment. You can’t believe I’m there. You can’t believe I’m doing this to you.
I lift your butt off the bed to get better access, and push my tongue into your butt.
You moan my name.
Then I slide my finger into your butt as my tongue slides back into your pussy.
“Oh, God,” you moan. “I’m cumming.”
You’re soaking wet now. My face is covered with saliva and your juice. I slide my entire face against your clit and feel a spasm of pleasure rush through your body, starting at the core of your being and flowing through your muscles like an electric pulse.
“I’m cumming,” you cry again, and I smile.
I know if I make you cum, if I make you cum on my face, that you’ll be mine forever. My property. My woman.
And you’ll never be able to say no to me.
I feel your orgasm on my face, the pulsing of your muscles, the contractions in your body, and when you finally cry out my name, I know you’re in a state of pleasure that will leave you completely powerless against me.
You’re defenseless now.
You’re all mine.
And I can do whatever I want to you.
I can cum in you.
I could cum in your mouth and you’d swallow me.
I could cum on your breasts and you’d beg for more.
I could rub lube over your asshole, slide my finger in and out of you, and when you were finally ready to take me, I could push my hard, fir
m, cock into your ass and make you scream with pleasure.
But that’s not what I want.
What I want is to cum in your pussy. I want to cum without a condom, not knowing whether my orgasm will make you pregnant with my child or not.
I want to pour my cum inside you, all the way deep inside you, to a place where no man’s cum has ever reached before. I want you to feel me flowing inside you. And I want you to wonder if maybe I made you pregnant. Because then, you’ll really be mine.
As soon as I feel your orgasm subside, I get up and strip off all my clothes. Your beautiful eyes look up at me and take in my full, naked body for the first time. You take in my chest, my abs, the patch of hair that leads down toward my cock.
When you see my cock, your eyes grow wide. I know you’ve never seen anything so big, so dangerous, so dominating. I’m fully erect, practically throbbing with anticipation for what I know is coming.
I look down at your pussy, warm, and soft and soaking wet.
“You ready?” I ask.
You nod but don’t say a word.
I climb onto the bed and grab your legs, pulling you up against me and putting your ankles on my shoulders. I look down at you. You’re begging me with your eyes to slide in.
I touch the lips of your pussy with the hard, swollen head of my cock. Your eyes beg me to fill you.
As I thrust forward, I pull you into me, sliding myself into your pussy, all the way to the shaft. You gasp in pleasure and delight, never having felt anything so big inside you before.
I grab you by the hips and hold you in place while I slide out, then pull you against me again as I ram back into you. I do this over and over, each thrust getting me deeper inside you, each forceful movement bringing me closer to the point of climax.
I look into your eyes.
“I’m going to cum in you,” I say.
You’re shocked. You have no idea what to say. You didn’t expect that.
But you’re eyes tell me you want it as badly as I do.
With every ounce of my strength, I thrust all the way to the core of your body, and my cock explodes in pleasure. My cum pours out of me and into you, linking us, body and soul, for eternity.
I’ll never be able to let you go now. You’re mine for life, and if I ever lost you, I’d die. I wouldn’t be able to live. As my cum flows into you, I know I love you. I know I want you forever. I know I want you to have my baby.
CHAPTER 2
MEADOW
I slammed my car into reverse, pulled down the driveway of my overpriced suburban mansion, and skidded onto the street with a screech of rubber. For a second I considered speeding back down the driveway and slamming into my husband’s Porsche. Really ramming it. That would teach him.
But I didn’t. I took a deep breath, passed the four motorcycles parked side by side at the end of the driveway, and drove off without looking back.
My hands gripped the steering wheel like I was holding onto it for dear life. I drove erratically, too fast, tearing around corners. If I didn’t calm down I was going to cause an accident.
The radio was playing some sad, girl-loves-boy, girl-loses-boy song. It was the type of song that normally would have had me crying in seconds.
But I was done crying. I was sick and tired of being sad, and frankly, I don’t think I had any tears left in me.
I changed the station.
Taylor Swift? Nah.
Commercials.
Commercials.
Justin Bieber? Sorry, no. This wasn’t the time for adolescent angst.
I hit the next preset.
Respect, by Aretha Franklin? Fuck, yes.
I cranked up the volume, opened the sunroof, grabbed my sunglasses and slid them on as I drove out of Palo Alto, screaming, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, FIND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME,” at the top of my lungs.
The song ended as I merged onto the freeway. Some song I didn’t recognize came on next and I turned the volume down. It was in that moment, once the distraction of Aretha was gone, that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I had no plan, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
All I knew was that I wanted to keep on driving and never go back. It had scarcely been five minutes since my marriage evaporated before my eyes, but already I felt more free, more myself, than I ever had with that asshole of a husband.
Then I had my second realization. My spur of the moment road trip meant I had packed nothing and all I had with me was my purse.
Ugh.
The stupid Coach purse Matt gave me after one of our many fights.
I grabbed it and tossed it on the backseat, out of my sight.
I couldn’t remember what that fight was about, but I did remember the loveless look on his face when he handed me the expensive gift. He was one of those men who thought he could solve any problem, no matter how serious, by spending money.
After a while, each expensive gift just hurt me more. It was never thoughtful, I don’t even like Coach. It was just his way of trying to shut me up.
The truth was, I didn’t need expensive gifts. All I needed was a husband who loved me. And that was the one thing Matt could never give. I finally knew it for certain.
My attention was drawn to the dashboard when the empty gas light turned on. So much for smooth sailing into my new life.
Luckily, there was a gas station a few minutes down the road.
I pulled up to the full service pump and asked the attendant to fill the tank with premium gas. I got out and opened the backdoor to grab my purse and headed into the convenience store. I took my time walking around and picked up a few snacks. Cracker Jacks, Bits ‘n Bites and a bag of Sour Patch Kids.
Don’t judge. I never denied being an emotional eater.
There was a display at the end of the aisle with sunglasses, hats and beach bags. I looked through the bags and found one on the smaller side with a few pockets and lots of color. I grabbed it and made my way to the checkout.
The young girl working at the cash register smiled when I put down all the snacks. Not in a judgmental way, but in an, excellent choice kind of way. We both laughed as she scanned them through. I reached for my purse and remembered about the gas.
“Oh and whatever it came to at pump six.”
I lifted up my Coach purse and dumped the contents on the counter. The girl looked at me like I was crazy. I started transferring all my stuff into the new bag.
“Why on earth are you taking your things out of that amazing Coach purse and putting them into this cheap gas station bag?” she asked.
“Hah, yeah, I guess it does seem a little strange. I think I’ve finally come to the realization that money and fancy things aren’t the most important things in the world. But, I think I’ll still hold onto my Vogue sunglasses for now,” I said with a smile.
We laughed again and I put the Vogue case into my new purse. She told me the total and I tapped my credit card to pay.
I’d seen that same girl working at that rest stop every day for two years. She was a sweet girl. Always friendly, always helpful. I didn’t know anything about her but always assumed she was putting herself through college with the gas station paychecks.
“Here. You’d look amazing with a Coach purse,” I said, holding it out to her.
“No way. I can’t accept that. It’s far too expensive. I don’t deserve it,” she said, taking a step back and raising her hands in protest.
“You do deserve it,” I said. “You deserve the world. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
I handed her the purse and gave her a look that made it clear I meant it. She reached out and took it, still unsure if she was doing the right thing.
“Thank you so, so much,” she said.
“You’re so, so welcome,” I said and walked back to my car.
I could hear her squealing behind me as I left. I turned back and saw her holding it up like a winning lottery ticket, showing it to the other kid who worked the counter with her. He clearly didn
’t have the same appreciation for purses she had but it made me happy to see her so excited.
I grabbed the keys from my new, gas station purse and got back into my Lexus. The luxury Lexus Matt had also bought me.
It was one of the many gifts I received after I told him I knew he’d been cheating on me for years.
Big fight, big gift. That’s the way it was in our marriage.
But with this gift he’d also dangled the promise of a family, our own baby some day, on the condition I didn’t leave him. He even went to the trouble of installing a car seat in the back.
But I never did get the baby.
I hated that I was driving a car he’d paid for but honestly, I wasn’t ready to give that away too. My high principals had their limit, and I’m a practical girl. I needed this getaway vehicle.
But I hated what it stood for with a passion. I still had no idea what my destination was, but the ocean was calling my name. I merged back onto the highway and continued south.
The sun was setting over San Jose and I put my car into cruise control. I turned the radio back on, turned the volume up to full and took a deep breath.
New life, here I come.
CHAPTER 3
MEADOW
By the time I reached the Pacific Coast Highway, it was pitch black out. I’d been driving a little over three hours and had completely escaped the glow of city lights. My high beams were all that guided me along the curving road.
A three hour drive hardly felt like much of a great escape, but it was getting late and I felt that driving along the coast at night was a waste of the beautiful view. I kept my eyes open for a place to stop for the night. I could get some much needed rest and start fresh in the morning.
I didn’t know how long I had before Matt realized I was gone for good. I knew the second he clued in, he would be pissed off and cancel my credit cards and access to our bank accounts. I mean, that was if he was even still alive!
Those guys who showed up at our doorstep on motorcycles looked like they meant business. I hoped they really gave it to him. He’d finally crossed paths with the wrong woman.
Her Baby Donor: He's doing her the old-fashioned way. Page 22
