by Aiden Bates
I swallowed, reaching for the hem of my t-shirt. Before Duncan, I didn’t think this would have phased me. Wesley was creepy, sure. But he was also shorter than me, weaker than me. Only standing in between me and what I wanted in a way that I could easily diffuse.
Before Duncan, I could have turned my brain off. Made Wesley feel like the only man in the universe. Felt half-sick about myself after doing it, sure, but at least I would’ve known that I’d done everything I could.
But now, after Duncan…Christ. I couldn’t convince some other, lesser man that he was the center of the universe now. Not when every fucking planet, solar system, galaxy and supernova was still revolving around Duncan fucking Rourke.
That’s when I knew it. I couldn’t dance for Wesley. I couldn’t dance for any of his customers either, no matter how well he might’ve paid me.
The only man I’d ever want to dance for again, I’d left on the sidewalk on the night I’d broken his heart, waving goodbye to me with a smile still on his perfect, smug lips.
Biggest fucking mistake of my life.
“I’m sorry,” I said simply, already trying to remember the state of my last real resume. It wouldn’t be as easy money as dancing, no, but I had a bachelor’s degree. I’d graduated with honors. I could get a normal job, something quiet and comfortable where I wouldn’t have to grind my ass against the body of some creepy, slimy-looking fuckwit just to get by. I let the hem of my t-shirt fall back into place. “I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time, Mr. Harmon.”
“Excuse me?” he spat, his face already contorting with rage. “You’ve what?”
I shook my head, shrugging. “I can’t do this. Your club makes me feel like I need to go scrub off the top layer of my skin just from setting foot in it, your clients are single-handedly keeping the Rohypnol market alive—” I pointed up at the speaker in the corner, which was still blaring the most half-assed rap music I’d ever heard— “Your music is, frankly, just fucking terrible, and if I’m being totally honest, I’m still not sure whether you want to fuck me or eat me, Hannibal Lecter-style, and I’m not really in the mood for sticking around to find out.”
I watched the color drain from Wesley’s face with my brow focused and my jaw set. With every sentence, he got a little whiter—and then, as I finished speaking, all of that shifted into a white-hot rage.
Exactly like I’d expected it would do. I needed the money, sure, but I wasn’t about to get it at the cost of working for a fucker like him.
“You worthless little slut,” he barked at me, rising and clenching his fists in rage. “Do you really think you can talk to me like that and get away with it? Who the hell do you think you are?”
Maybe I should have felt afraid then. I’d obviously pissed him off, and he obviously had the kind of temper that made him want to act on it. But, Christ, what did he really think he was going to do to me? If he came at me, all I had to do was place my hand on his forehead and keep him at arm’s length while he twisted and scrambled like a playground bully who’d finally met his match.
“I guess I’m leaving,” I said inconsequentially, turning and pushing my way through the door.
It was only then that my heart sank into my stomach. The door opened to reveal a man waiting behind it, a man so large and thick and heavy looking that he hardly seemed like a man at all—more like some kind of big, sentient boulder, maybe. His neck was so thick, it was impossible to figure out where his jawline ended and his shoulders began. The gold chain wrapped around it looked stretched to pop, and every one of his fingers was the size of a bratwurst, his knuckles gnarled and twisted from breaking more faces than he could keep track of.
I swallowed hard as I nearly ran straight into the man’s swollen beer gut. It looked like Wesley had brought back-up—and the next face he would break would probably be mine.
But then, to my relief, the boulder of a bouncer only looked down at me like a minor annoyance. The way a cat might look at a mouse when it was too full up on Fancy Feast to be bothered with the whole Tom and Jerry shtick. He disregarded me immediately, looking instead over my shoulder to catch Wesley’s eye.
“We’ve got trouble out front, boss,” he said in dull, booming voice that gave me the impression that the man’s IQ number wasn’t much higher than his shoe size. “Some Alpha asking after that hot-ass Omega you’re bringing in tonight. Making a real big scene—your audition over yet?”
I blinked up at the man, even though he was either too dumb to realize that I was the hot-ass Omega he was talking about, or just too dense to care. “Tall guy, this Alpha? Dark hair, dark eyes, uses lots of big words that makes you wish you had a dictionary on you?”
The man blinked back down at me with surprise, like he’d already forgotten I was standing right in front of him. “I don’t like playing Pictionary. That little pencil is too small for my fingers.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I pushed past him, patting him on the shoulder as I moved him aside. “You’re precious, honey. Really. Thanks for the audition, Wesley. Best of luck to you,” I called over my shoulder.
As I moved back through the club to the door, I felt the excitement mounting in my chest. Like magic, suddenly everything had clicked. I was in love with Duncan Rourke. So in love that I couldn’t even stomach the idea of moving against another man the way I wanted to move against him. Was I scared? Oh, hell, I was terrified. He’d made me question everything I knew about myself, every little part of me that I’d held onto in order to make sure that I was safe and okay, and I had his baby in my belly besides—all of which would have been the stuff of a goddamn nightmare for me about two months ago before I knew that a man like Duncan even existed.
But now, somehow…I felt suddenly certain. I loved him. I couldn’t deny it. I was having his baby, and against all odds—he’d come for me. I didn’t even know how he’d known I was at the Backdoor tonight. Chance, maybe. Maybe fate.
For the first time throughout all of this, I suddenly got the feeling that everything might be all right.
I burst through the front doors, searching out for his face and immediately finding it. He froze mid-fist fight, one hand clenched around the collar of a snarling, slick-haired bouncer, the other pulled back, ready to break the man’s nose.
But then he looked up at me, saw me, and a dazed little smile appeared on his lips.
“Hey, Kieran,” he said breathlessly, his gaze so dripping with longing that I could practically see little love-hearts in his eyes.
Then, the man he’d been swinging at caught him in the jaw with a sucker punch, and I watched as the father of my child rocked back onto the sidewalk, falling on his ass—that smug smile of his still on his mouth.
18
Duncan
I could hardly say I’d grown up in the Bronx without knowing how to take a punch.
The bouncer’s fist cracked against my jaw, clacking my teeth together as he knocked me onto my ass. In a way, it was a shame, really—seeing Kieran reappear into my life like that, it would’ve been dashing of me to come out of the fight victorious. I nearly had the bastard before Kieran came out, too. When I’d dropped Kieran’s name at the door, he’d called Kieran a slut—so it wasn’t like he hadn’t deserved it.
But then I’d saw Kieran’s face, and it had thrown the whole thing off. I blinked up from the pavement, a little dazed but okay.
“Duncan? Holy shit, Duncan, are you…”
As Kieran’s face hovered over mine, his arm winding around my neck to pull my head into his lap, I realized I was still smiling. “Hey, handsome.”
He laughed, the amusement breaking through the worry set in his brow. “Hey, handsome yourself. That guy got you pretty good, didn’t he?”
“I had him on the run, though,” I said, chuckling up at him as I lost myself in the pale green of his eyes. “Cut down by a sucker punch.”
“You’ll never live it down.” He smoothed my hair down over my forehead, lips twisting between a frown and a smile like he couldn
’t decide which to settle on. “They’ve all slunk back inside now though, at least. What on earth are you doing here, Duncan?”
I shrugged, turning my head to nuzzle against Kieran’s thigh. “Heard you were auditioning. Thought it was the dumbest idea I’d ever heard.”
“I had my reasons,” he said softly, his thumb running across my forehead.
“Did you?”
“Mm. I did.” He brushed his thumb against my temple, then reached down to turn my cheek and get a better look at my jaw. I didn’t mind, of course. Left me with my face buried nicely in his crotch—not a bad place to be. “But somehow, those reasons don’t seem to matter anymore.”
“Because I defended your honor,” I said, smug as I breathed in the fresh scent of his laundry detergent, the dark notes of his cologne.
“No,” Kieran said with a laugh. “No, that was actually…I mean, I don’t want to diminish the valor of your efforts or anything, but by the time you showed up I’d already kind of made up my mind on my own.”
“Because it was stupid of you to leave me in the first place?” I asked hopefully. Figured if I guessed at his motivations enough times, eventually I’d have to be right at some point.
He laughed again. “Actually, yeah. Think I just needed…I don’t know. A little perspective, I guess.”
“Good.” I sat up slightly, glancing around to see the crowd of onlookers that my little drama had attracted.
Kieran was right—the bouncers seemed to have retreated back to the doorway of the club. Probably terrified of what I’d do to ’em if I got my mitts on them again. But the rest of the crowd—a few tourists, a couple curious Alphas with scantily clad dancers hanging off their arms—they seemed to be less concerned with whether or not my teeth had been knocked out, and more concerned with how things between Kieran and I were going to play out.
I supposed it’d have to do. What could I say—what man didn’t love an audience?
“Right,” I said, shaking my head and setting my jaw. Oh, it would ache in the morning, I was sure, but for now, I was more dazed by how fucking breathtaking Kieran looked than by the punch. “Let’s get this straight, then.”
Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Right here? On the sidewalk?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He smiled. “Go on, then.”
I took his hands in mine, kneeling before him and squeezing his fingers tight. “I think I love you, Kieran Drake.”
The laughter exploded out of Kieran’s mouth like a cannonball. “You think you love me?”
“Mm,” I rumbled, nodding. “Yeah. I think so. Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure, huh? What are my odds here?”
“Very much in your favor,” I said with a grin. I punctuated the statement with a wink. “You could even bet on it.”
“All right. So you probably love me.” Kieran hummed with pleasure, nodding back at me. “What else?”
I looked up at the Backdoor’s neon sign, blanching at its garishness. As I pointed at it, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit controlling—but hell. I loved the man. I didn’t want him showing up to work every night at a place like that.
“I don’t want you working there,” I told Kieran sternly.
A slow grin crept onto Kieran’s lips. “That’s handy. I don’t want to work there either.”
“Yeah?” I blinked a few times, then dipped my lips down to kiss his knuckles. That was easier than I’d been expecting it to be. “Okay. Well, good, then. Yeah. Good.”
Kieran snorted with amusement. “Anything else?”
“Oh, you know. I figured, maybe you ought to let me take you on a date or two. Proper ones, this time. Move in with me, maybe—my penthouse is too fucking lonely without you.”
“Interesting proposition,” Kieran said, wry.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on proposing right away or anything…” I grinned like a bastard as I saw it dawn on him that I was using his own word against him. “But yeah, sure. I can see it down the line. Marry me, have my babies, that whole thing. I think it could work.”
I didn’t know what I’d said that time—I was being a little glib, sure, but not that funny. Nonetheless, Kieran burst into laughter again, the kind that left him doubled over as it rang out through the street. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were glossy. Laughed so hard, he was crying a little.
“What?” I finally asked. “I know I’m hilarious, but…”
He pulled my hands toward him, placing them on his abdomen. “Duncan, you fucking idiot. I’m already pregnant.”
And then, my whole world came screeching to a stop.
Pregnant.
Kieran was pregnant.
“Is…oh, holy fuck. Is it mine?” I blurted out before I could even process anything.
“Is it yours? Oh my god, you idiot!” he shouted, rapping my bruised jaw with his knuckles as he tried not to laugh. “Of course it’s yours! Why else would I tell you?”
“I…” I drew in a breath, trying to come up with an answer to that question and only drawing up shock and excitement instead. “I’m going to be a dad. Holy shit, I’m going to be a dad.”
“Well, unless you say more stupid shit like, ‘Is it mine.’” He smiled softly. “But yes, Duncan. You’re going to be a dad.”
There were a million questions brewing in my mind—how did Kieran feel about that? Was he having morning sickness? Cramps? Did he want a boy or a girl—and if so, what would we even name them? Pregnancy yoga? Was that a thing? Was it even safe for him to be—
Eventually, though, my urge to kiss Kieran won out over my urge to bombard him with the full interrogation. I’d have time for twenty questions later. In that moment, sitting on the sidewalk with him, my jaw aching and my lips desperate to be against his, a kiss was what we needed.
We’d sealed our bet with a handshake. It only seemed right that it would all come together in a kiss.
“Take me home?” Kieran said softly as he pulled away, his breath warm and delicious as it mingled with mine.
“What—you’re not enjoying letting our whole future pan out here on the sidewalk in front of the shittiest strip club in all of the city?” I glanced over to the two Omega dancers who were still outside watching us intently, like we were an especially compelling soap opera. “No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” one of them called back. “Place is a complete shitshow, you’re right.”
“Ah, well, in that case…” I shrugged, grinning as I returned my attention to Kieran. The perfect shape of his face, the flush of his cheeks, the tenuous delight in his expression—like he really wanted to believe that everything would work itself out now, even though he was still convincing himself of the fact.
And if the crowd that had gathered around us wanted a true, proper soap opera ending, I figured I might as well give them one. Kieran yelped in surprise as I scooped him up in my arms, kicking and laughing nervously as he clung to my chest.
I could only beam down at him in reply. “Let’s go home.”
19
Kieran
Home had once been a little town in Texas with two parents who might’ve preferred that I didn’t exist. After, it had been a cattle car of a dorm room that my evening trysts would shuffle in and out of, sometimes before I even caught their names. Home had been a one-bedroom apartment that I’d never imagined opening up to anyone else for more than a night at a time. The apartment that I’d first fucked Duncan Rourke in. The apartment where he’d gotten me pregnant, made me fall for him. Stolen my sweatpants and my heart, all in one fell swoop.
But as Duncan swept me up dramatically, carrying me through the threshold of his penthouse…
The lushness of the carpets. The sleekness of the wood floors. Half a dozen things that we’d need to baby-proof and some priceless-looking art that I was sure a toddler would find some way to destroy—but we’d worry about that later.
In that moment, Duncan’s arms wrapped around me and my lips parted in a so
ft little O, nothing had ever felt so much like home in my life. Still…I’d never expected home to look like this.
“Jesus,” I swore lowly. “It’s gorgeous.”
He smiled down at me, looking more smug than ever as he realized he was about to say something incredibly cliché. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
And then we were off. I slapped him gently, he carried me off to bed. The clothes we were wearing, we weren’t wearing for much longer. For the last few hours, I’d been so caught up in my sense of surrender to how I felt about him, it had seemed like nothing felt real. But then Duncan was between my thighs, the heat of his skin pressing down against my own. With his weight rocking above me, his cock hard and thick and throbbing against mine, our balls pressed together and his lips pressed to my neck, the reality of it all came rushing in like a tidal wave.
He loved me and I loved him. We didn’t have to say it to feel it—our bodies communicated better than our mouths ever could have, anyway. His tongue, lapping against my jawline, said I want to spend the rest of my life pleasing you, and my nails digging into his shoulder blades replied, I think I’d fucking like that. The kisses he pressed down my chest, my stomach, all the way to my cock said, Jesus, you’re fucking hot, and my legs, bouncing against his back while he took my long, aching cock into his mouth said, Keep doing that, and you’re going to make me come, right back.
Then, there was the smile. That shit-eating grin that I’d come to love so much, beaming up at me as my cock rested against his cheek for just a moment before he went down on me again.
It was a smile that said, Good. Enjoy it, then.
And god, I did.
His lips were hot, wet, so hungry for me that they left my hips bucking against him, setting a ragged pace. He hummed with pleasure, letting me twitch and writhe beneath him for a moment—then, a growl escaped his throat as he took my hips in his hands. He pinned them to the mattress, leaving me gasping as he swallowed another inch of me. Then, I could only lay back on his pillows, their fresh linen scent all around me mixed with the smell of him from the night before, while he took what he wanted from me—and he wanted all of me.
