by Nicole Fox
I don’t know how this could have worked out differently. If I hadn’t put my chips in with Finn, I might be a kept woman with Sergei, suffering through any number of degrading requests, raising my baby with a man I hated.
No, this is right. And while it took us a good year to get to a point where we could both say it out loud, I think we both knew that the connection between us had quickly moved beyond the physical, beyond the circumstantial. It had bloomed into something real, something that was cemented the moment our little boy was born.
There will be days ahead that will make life different. He will grow. He’ll need roots, friendships. He’ll want to go to school, to have a girlfriend, to go to college, to build a family of his own. And how much will he know about who we are, about how we came to live this gypsy life? I’m not sure, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
“Mrs. O’Hare,” Finn says, breaking me from my thoughts, “I want to fuck you right now. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“Well, when you’re so romantic about it, how can I say no?” I say with a laugh.
He grins and stands, holding out a hand to help me up. I follow him into the house, into our bedroom, to our large four-poster bed. He runs his hands over my shoulders, down to my waist, grabbing the hem of my T-shirt and lifting it, baring my breasts. My nipples harden when the air hits them—Finn’s fingers tweak them, sending a shot of lust straight to my core.
He dips one hand between my legs, finding me wet already as his fingers dip inside my folds. I let out a moan. I love the way he touches me.
I reach out and untie the pajama bottoms he wears. They fall to the floor, exposing his huge, proud cock. I wrap a hand around its girth, squeezing and pumping a few times before giving him a wicked grin and falling to my knees to take him into my mouth. He grabs my hair, guides my strokes, pushes me to take it all in, all the way to the balls. Gladly. I love the taste of him, the feel of that silky shaft in my mouth. I love the dot of salty precum that coats my tongue. I know what it means.
He pulls me up and pushes me roughly back onto the bed, spreading me wide, burying himself there, his tongue darting in and out of my cunt while his dexterous fingers work at my swollen, throbbing clit. Just as I’m about to climax, he pulls away and positions himself over top of me, impaling me, pushing my legs up over his shoulders so he can get deeper and deeper, his thrusts harder and harder.
I cry out, coming instantly, my pussy clenching around his cock as he pushes me to every limit I have. When he lets loose his own orgasm, it’s with an animal roar that only stops when his mouth meets mine, our tongues intertwining in a dance that we both never want to end.
Later, we lie naked on top of the covers, shining with sweat, barely able to move.
“I love you, Selena,” Finn says.
“I love you too,” I say.
“Everything in my life … it was all a path to get me to you,” he says, reciting his wedding vows, as he does almost every night.
What started as something of a business partnership, a means to an end, has bloomed into something very real.
THE END
***
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KNOCKED UP BY THE REBEL: The Shadow Hunters MC
By Nicole Fox
SHE’S MINE ONCE AGAIN… AND THIS TIME, SHE’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.
I’ve made mistakes I won’t repeat.
Like letting Daphne out of my bed.
Now that I’ve got her back, she’ll never leave my sight again.
That’s what happens when you hide my son from me.
Who the f*** does she think she is?
Keeping my son from me?
Furious doesn’t even begin to describe my mood.
I don’t care what she thinks I’ve done.
Hell, she’s probably right.
It’s true: I’ve stolen stuff. I’ve hurt people.
But I don’t regret a godd*mn thing.
This is just the path I’ve chosen.
She thought she’d chosen a path to get away from me.
But that’s impossible.
Because she has something that belongs to me.
And I’m coming to get it back.
Chapter One
Daphne
“Shit!”
Daphne Carver snatched her phone off of the dining room table. Turning it on, she checked the time and saw that she was, as usual, running behind for work.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Daphne gasped and turned around and saw that Jack, her three-year-old son, was standing right behind her.
“What’s ‘shit’?”
“Um, nothing,” said Daphne, shoving her phone into her pocket. “I mean, it’s not nothing; it’s a bad word; don’t ever say it.”
“Don’t say ‘shit’?” asked Jack, looking up at her with his big blue eyes.
“Just like that,” said Daphne. “That’s the word, but don’t say it.”
“Um, okay,” said Jack, clearly confused about the whole situation.
Daphne knew that she didn’t have time to explain things. She rushed to her bedroom and began going through the clothes in her closet, trying to find something among her work outfits that was clean and pressed for her shift at Hendrick’s, the boutique clothing store where she’d worked for a year, and recently been promoted to assistant manager. She leafed through the outfits of chic, trendy clothes that she’d purchased with her discount from work, taking a little pleasure in the fact that she at least had a halfway decent wardrobe.
She settled on a simple pair of stylish gray slacks and a white blouse; Daphne knew she didn’t have time to assemble a more complicated outfit. Once dressed, she looked herself over in the mirror. Daphne was a pretty, twenty-five-year-old girl with short, dark hair styled in a pixie cut, and a face that was slim and angular, with elfin features. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and her lips were a small but full Cupid’s bow. Leaning close to the vanity, she applied a little bit of makeup, her eyes on the phone as the time ticked closer and closer to the time she absolutely, positively, had to be out the door.
Daphne finished the rest of her getting ready process as quickly as she could.
“Are you working today, Mommy?” asked Jack from the entrance to her room.
“Yes,” said Daphne, applying her eyeliner. “Mommy’s working during the day today.”
“But it’s a Saturday,” said Jack. “Grown-ups don’t work on Saturdays, right?”
“This grown-up does,” said Daphne, putting on the finishing touches and placing her makeup back in the kit.
“But why?” asked Jack.
Daphne turned to her son, who had a pleading expression on his adorable face, as though he could convince her of how silly it was that she was working and get her to stay home. Like always, Daphne was struck by just how closely Jack resembled his father, Xander. Jack had the same piercing blue eyes, the same chocolate-brown hair, and even the same headstrong, stubborn attitude.
“You like pizza, right?” asked Daphne.
“Yep, with extra pepperoni,” said Jack, his eyes widening at the idea of his favorite food.
“And you like your PlayStation, right?”
“Uh—huh.”
“And you like having a roof over your head when it’s all rainy and stormy out, right? Some people have to stay outside in the rain, you know.”
“Really?” asked Jack. “That’s weird.”
“Some people aren’t as lucky as you and I,” said Daphne, walking over to her son and scooping him up off the ground. “Some people don’t have all the things we do.”
Truth be told, Daphne didn’t feel like the lucky person she was making herself out to be to Jack. In the years since she’d left Xander, lif
e had been hard for her and Jack. When he was a baby, she had been dependent on the charity of her family, having to move from month to month to various aunts and uncles and cousins’ houses, staying as long as she could and leaving when she felt she was being too much of a burden.
Finally, her Aunt Caroline in St. Louis, having been a single mother at one time, had given her the offer of staying with her for as long as it took for Daphne to get her head above water. So Daphne had moved in and taken the first job she could find: cashier at Hendrick’s, an upscale women’s boutique in one of the trendier parts of town. Daphne had taken the job and worked her fingers to the bone, working whenever the manager needed her and saving every last dollar she could. After a year and a half of work, she’d managed to move her way slowly up the ladder at Hendrick’s, going from cashier to shift leader and eventually, to her current position as assistant manager. This promotion was more responsibility and more hours, but gave her the income she needed to finally be able to afford a place of her own.
“Why not?” asked Jack, who was right in the middle of the phase in a child’s life when “why” is their favorite word.
“Because some people just have harder lives. You’ll understand when you get older.”
“You always say that,” said Jack.
“Because it’s true,” said Daphne. “You’re such a smart little kid; there isn’t much you’re not going to understand when you’re a grown-up.”
“Then I want to be a grown-up now,” said Jack.
“No, no,” said Daphne. “Trust me—you absolutely do not.”
Daphne set Jack down and checked her phone, sighing with relief when she realized she’d caught up on running behind.
“There’s no kindergarten today,” said Jack. “Does that mean I get to come with you to work?”
“No, it means that you get to spend the day with Amy and Jason.”
“Really?” he said, his eyes going wide.
“Really,” Daphne said.
Amy was another single mother who lived in the building and had a son about the same age as Jack. Amy, however, was the recipient of a pretty sizable alimony payment from her ex-husband, one that allowed her to have a part-time job. Daphne and Amy were close, and so were Jack and Jason.
Before Daphne could think another thought, her phone buzzed again. She slipped it out of her pocket, fearing that it was her job asking her if she could come in even earlier. But instead, she saw that it was a text from Margaret, a friend of hers for years now, and one who Daphne had very little time for now that she was a mother.
You know what day it is today, right?
Daphne thought hard, realizing that between her work and Jack, she had to think to even remember what month it was.
I’m stumped.
Moments later came the reply.
: ( It’s my birthday, girl! Come out tonight and get drunk with me!
Daphne paused, trying to remember when the last time was that she’d had more than just a single glass of wine after a hard day’s work. During her harder times, Daphne had seen what happened to single parents who spent too much time “unwinding” after hard days at work, and understood the toll it could take. She’d vowed to never be a parent like that.
I don’t know … maybe …
Her phone buzzed in her hand right away.
No maybes. I haven’t seen you for months, and if there’s one day that I get what I want, it’s my birthday.
Daphne thought about it, realizing that a night out with some friends did sound pretty nice. But it all depended on if Amy would take Jack for the evening.
Let me check with the sitter. I’ll let you know in a minute.
Then the response.
Better be yes! Bring Jack if you have to!
Daphne shuddered at the idea.
Spoken like a true non-parent, she thought to herself.
“Hey, Jack,” said Daphne. “What do you think about a sleepover tonight at Jason’s?”
“Awesome!” he said.
“Okay, I still have to ask Amy, but Mommy’s friend wants her to come out tonight.”
“Okay!”
Jack was clearly excited by the prospect.
Giving herself one last once-over in the mirror, Daphne left with Jack in tow. They headed down to the floor below and to Amy’s door. Daphne gave the door a quick rap, her stomach tightening at the idea of having to ask Amy for yet another favor.
Soon, the door opened to reveal Amy. A blonde beauty in the classic homemaker-style, Amy was one of those women who never seemed to have a strand of hair out of place. She had bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and skin that seemed to Daphne to glow.
“Hi, Amy!” shouted Jack before either of the two women could speak.
“There’s my big man,” said Amy, kneeling down and giving Jack a big hug.
“Jack!” shouted Jason as he ran to his mother’s side.
Jack and Jason greeted one another and ran off, disappearing into the apartment.
“Those two don’t waste any time,” said Amy. “Brothers from different mothers, if you ask me.”
“Thank you so much for watching Jack today,” said Daphne, her voice earnest.
“You know he’s welcome over here whenever he wants,” said Amy.
Daphne’s eyes flicked over Amy’s shoulder, noting the expensive furniture and décor that made Daphne feel like she lived in a flophouse.
“And,” said Daphne, working up the courage to ask, “there’s something else I wanted to ask you …”
“Sleepover?” asked Amy.
“How did you know?” responded Daphne, her eyes going wide with surprise.
“Just call it a single-mother sixth sense,” Amy said. “It’s not hard to tell when a mom needs a night out.”
“It’s just that it’s my friend’s birthday and I haven’t seen her in so long and I’ve just been working all the time and—”
The words came out in a wild flurry, Daphne not even taking a breath as she poured out her reasons. Amy responded by holding her hand up.
“You don’t need to explain yourself,” said Amy. “I’m your neighbor; I know how hard you bust your ass every day for that kid.”
Her voice hushed as she said “ass,” her motherly instinct kicking in.
“And it’s not like Jason won’t be happy about it,” she continued. “I’ll order them a pizza later, maybe take ’em to a movie; they’ll love it.”
“Thank you so, so, so much,” Daphne said. “I just feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Amy with a smile. “You’re not gonna find a man in your apartment, you know.”
“Yeah, definitely,” said Daphne, feeling the idea of her meeting anyone was totally ridiculous.
“Okay,” said Amy. “I’ll take over from here; I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
Daphne shot out some more “thank-yous” as Amy shut the door. Once the door was closed, Daphne remember that she had to be at work, and soon. She rushed down the stairs of the apartment and was soon in her cheap Honda and on the road to start the hour-drive to Hendrick’s.
During the drive, she found her mind drifting back to nearly four years ago, when she first learned that she was pregnant with Jack. At the time, she’d been involved with Xander for around a year, and she was in love in a way that she hadn’t known was even possible. The two had met at a kegger, and Daphne could recall with perfect clarity her and Xander’s eyes meeting for the first time. As she drove, a small smile formed on her lips as she thought back to Xander standing near the kegger bonfire, a beer in hand, the orange of the fire reflecting off of his thick biceps.
Goddammit, she thought, turning her attention back to the road. Focus!
She straightened her car on the narrow lane of the boulevard and tried to clear her mind. But it was no use; her thoughts drifted back to her former love.
Xander was like no man she’d ever met before. He was dangerous, bold, and dripping with test
osterone. Xander was the kind of man that Daphne knew was nothing but trouble, but she couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite the voice in her head telling her to stay far away.
Once Xander caught her eye that night he didn’t waste any time in approaching her. Daphne remembered it with fondness; Xander was nothing if not bold, and the type of man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go get it. He worked his rugged charm and Daphne remembered realizing that she didn’t have a chance. After a few drinks around the bonfire, their bodies moving closer and closer to one another as they talked, they ended up taking a ride his motorcycle for a quick ride into the woods.
