Knocked Up on Valentine's Day

by Amy Brent

  I opened to a random page and spotted my name on the first line. I stopped and started to read, ignoring the tickle of guilt in my gut.

  Sunday, April 4th

  Steven and I went to Toby and Suzanne’s wedding tonight. Neither of us had dates, so instead of going stag, we partnered up. A few people asked me if we were finally seeing each other. I hated telling them no.

  He danced with me. I can’t stop thinking about how his hands felt on my lower back, on my hips, on my waist. The way he looked at me. For a moment, it felt like I was one of the girls he brings home all the time. One of the girls he sleeps with.

  I want to know what that’s like. I want to know what it would feel like to be kissed by Steven Marx. I wonder what he tastes like, what his lips feel like. I want to feel his tongue in my mouth, against my clit. I want to feel him everywhere. I want him.

  I heard Allie drop something in the kitchen. Whatever it was, it was heavy, and it shattered. She yelped and then started swearing up a storm. I closed the diary, more than aware of the way my cock was now pressing up against the inside of my pants, and slipped it inside my shirt, praying to God Allie wouldn’t notice.

  I had to read more.

  I flushed the toilet to avoid suspicion and ran the sink. I stood in front of it like an idiot for a solid thirty seconds while staring at my reflection.

  “You’re a jackass, Steven Marx, a complete and total jackass,” I said to myself.

  My reflection didn’t object. I was about to steal my best friend’s diary. There was no doubt. I was a real piece of shit.

  But the words in that book were doing all kinds of things to me. My mouth was dry, my fingers were tingling, and I was trying to think of anything possible to squash the desire that had come over me.

  When I had myself under control, I left the bathroom and joined Allie in the kitchen. One of her plates was in a hundred pieces on the floor, and she was crouched down collecting it all. She looked up at me with those perfect eyes of hers and pouted her full lips.

  “I made a mess,” she groaned.

  “You have bare feet,” I said, shooing her away with one hand. “You go grab the broom, I’ll clean this up.” It was the least I could do after reading her diary—and consciously choosing to continue reading it later once I brought it home with me.

  I swept the kitchen and dumped the broken glass in her trash can. Allie sat perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, watching me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that brain of hers? What was she thinking? Was she going to look for her diary after I went home with the intention of writing an entry in it about our evening?

  Would she write about her fantasies?

  Was she thinking those thoughts now?

  When the kitchen was clean, I propped her broom against the cupboards. “Well,” I said, “I have another early start tomorrow. I should get going.”

  “Okay,” she said, hopping down from the counter and landing with a quiet thump on the linoleum. She walked me to the front door, and I held one arm against my side to hide the lines I worried her diary was leaving on the inside of my shirt.

  “Drive safe,” she told me as I stepped out into the hallway.

  “I will. Have a good sleep.”

  Back at home, I lay down on my bed with Allie’s diary clutched in my grip. I told myself at least three times that this was not the kind of things friends did to each other. This was not how I should repay her for always being there for me.

  Regardless of how wrong I knew it was to betray her trust like this, I couldn’t help myself. I opened the book, my cock already stiffening, and began reading.

  Thursday, June 12th

  I had a dream about Steven last night. I don’t know where we were in the dream, but it was a beautiful bedroom. The bed was in the middle of the room and was surrounded by draping, sheer white sheets. I was standing at the foot of the bed. Steven was kneeling upon it. He was naked.

  I joined him. I wasn’t wearing clothes, either. I crawled to him on my hands and knees. His cock hovered inches from my face. I told him how badly I wanted him. I told him that I wanted him to use me however he saw fit.

  He put his dick in my mouth. The dream felt so real. I can almost remember the way his fingers felt in my hair as he held me against him; as if it was a memory, not a dream.

  After a while, I rolled onto my back. He stayed on his knees above me. I pulled his hips down to me and held my mouth open for him to use my throat. He did. While he thrust in and out, he leaned over my body, dragging his fingers over my stomach until he reached my pussy. He touched me, tracing semicircles over my clit. I was so wet. Wetter than I am now.

  When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he slid a finger inside me. It was ecstasy. It was everything I have ever wanted.

  Then I woke up.

  I undid my jeans and kicked them off. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it over the side of the bed. This was more than I had expected. This was so much more. I flipped through more pages of entries that were similar to the one I had just read. There were dozens of entries filled with the same sort of fantasies.

  She wanted me to fuck her.

  Allie Wright wanted me to bury myself inside her.

  I wrapped my fingers around my shaft. I couldn’t think of the last time I had been this hard. I stroked myself gently, flipping to another page. I spotted my name and resumed reading as I worked myself, edging my way closer to blowing my load.

  Tuesday, June 17th

  Steven and I went to Happy Hour at Vixen’s after work today. We met Chance there. He’s doing well. He’s seeing a new girl and seems quite fond of her. Her name is Claire. I think he said she works for a bank or is an accountant or something like that. She’s good with numbers is what I remember.

  We had a lot to drink.

  Steven was definitely drunk. Chance was the culprit. He bought four rounds of tequila shots, and I couldn’t take all of mine so Steven stepped up. Six tequila shots and a pitcher of beer later, and Steven was feeling the booze.

  Chance and I had to hail him a cab when he tried to drive home. I rode back to his place with him to make sure he got in okay and found his bed. He started taking his clothes off once he was in the front door. He left them all the way down the hallway to his bedroom and walked around in nothing but his boxers. His tight boxers that left nothing to the imagination. I’ve never seen so much of him before. I’ve been so turned on all night.

  I made him drink some water and take Tylenol. He called me a helicopter parent. It was kind of sweet. We laughed. Then he told me how much he loved my laugh.

  I brought him to his bed. He got on top of the covers and asked if I wanted to spend the night. It was late, he had said, and he knew I had an early morning.

  I said no. I couldn’t bear to sleep beside him.

  And he fell asleep right after. I watched him for a while. A long while. I watched his chest as he breathed. I stared at his package for God knows how long. It’s bigger than I thought. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  Then, I finally left, and here I am, lying on my bed, horny as hell, thinking only of his nearly naked body on his bed and how I turned down the invitation to share that bed with him. I need to get rid of this pent-up tension asap.

  Thank goodness for my vibrator.

  Friday, June 20th

  Being near Steven all the time and not being able to fuck him is killing me. I want him to show up at my house, rip my clothes off, and throw me down on the bed. I want him to have his way with me. I want him to shove his cock into me, as deep as he can, and fuck me until I can’t see straight.

  I want to feel him everywhere. I need him.

  We could do it on my bed, on the floor, in the kitchen—it doesn’t matter. He could bend me over the back of my sofa and take me from behind. Thinking about it now makes me so wet. He could tie me down, blindfold me, and tease me with endless kisses and touches until I was nothing but need.

  I wish I could learn how to
stop aching for him.

  I came. It was a ragged release of pleasure that left me breathless. I thought of Allie, tied to her bed, lying naked beneath me. I wanted to do everything to her that she had imagined. I could show her what it would all feel like.

  I would show her what it felt like.

  Chapter 6

  Allie

  Work was going well for once. James was out of the office for the day and had left me a to-do list. I didn’t mind. Keeping busy made my day go by quickly, and not being constantly interrupted by him was a nice reprieve.

  I was able to clean my desk for the first time in weeks (nearly a month and a half, which horrified me) and even went through some of the old papers in my filing cabinets. I had cleared out three full drawers when my cell phone chimed.

  I dropped down into my chair, spun it around to face my computer, and plucked my phone from the desk. Steven’s name flashed across the screen. He’d messaged me. I smiled absently to myself and opened our conversation.

  What I saw made my stomach leap up into my throat. My heart started fluttering, my chest felt hot, and it was everything I could do not to drop the phone.

  On my screen was a picture of Steven; well, it was sort of a picture of Steven. He wasn’t in the foreground. Or the background, either.

  I recognized his watch, his knuckles, and even his hips from seeing him nearly naked that one drunken night this past June.

  What I didn’t recognize was his dick, front and center, demanding all of my attention.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed, glancing up to make sure none of my coworkers were around. The coast was clear. I peered closer to the picture, taking note of the size and girth of his member, and realizing quite suddenly that this probably hadn’t been meant for me.

  I felt my cheeks grow hot and knew I was blushing. I closed the picture, and it shrank to a smaller size as it fell back into the conversation. I quickly typed out a message to Steven.

  “Uh. Steven. Wrong person!”

  I hit send, locked the phone, and put it face down on my desk.

  It chimed again not even ten seconds later.

  Another picture lit up my screen. This time I gawked at it. It was a picture of an all too familiar yellow notebook. My diary.

  I put the phone down. My stomach rolled. I picked the phone back up. My stomach turned again.

  “How did you get that?” I typed before hitting send.

  He answered quickly again. My heart was racing as my eyes scanned his words. “I don’t know. How come you never told me you wanted me to bend you over and fuck you?”

  I felt my panties become wet. I shifted in my seat. I realized I was chewing the inside of my cheek. If I played dumb, maybe he would leave it alone. Tasting blood from my gnawed-on cheek, I typed out my reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t believe you stole my diary.”

  As I sent it, my alarm went off. I had plans to meet my sister for lunch again. I stood, thoroughly flustered, and rushed out of the office with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. A couple people at their desks looked up at me and watched me go. They probably saw how red my face was. This only made me blush harder.

  I raced to the elevator, rode it down in shocked silence, and then tore out of the building. I hurried down the sidewalk to the restaurant and was relieved to see Melissa was already there. She was the early bird out of the two of us.

  When she saw me coming her eyebrows drew together. I sat across from her, looked around like everyone in the place knew what picture was on in my phone, and glanced back at her.

  “Allie? What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Melissa said, her eyes flicking back and forth as she regarded me with concern. “Drink some water.”

  I sipped from the glass, dabbed at my cold, wet lips with my shaking fingertips, and then clutched my hands in my lap. “Something happened,” I said, leaning forward like I was letting her in on some deep dark conspiracy.

  “Okay,” Melissa said slowly. “What happened?”

  I bit my bottom lip and leaned in closer. I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Steven just sent me a dick pic.”

  “A what?” Melissa wasn’t in on all the new terms when it came to sexual advances through technology.

  I groaned and rested my forehead in my hands. “He sent me a picture of his penis, Melissa.”

  “What the fuck? When?”

  “Like, fifteen minutes ago!”

  “Let me see,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly.

  I stared at her open palm. “I can’t show you,” I said defensively. “That would be a violation of his privacy.”

  “The man sent you a picture of his penis, which you clearly didn’t ask for. Show me already. I’ve always been curious.”

  “No,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at her.

  “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him he sent it to the wrong person, of course. Which I was sure he had. Until he texted me back a picture of my diary.”

  “Your diary?” Melissa asked, her eyebrows arching. “What do you mean, your diary? Why would he have access to it?”

  “He was over last night. He must have found it and took it home with him. And he read some of it. Melissa, you know some of the things I’ve written in there. He knows how into him I am. I’m so embarrassed.” I buried my face in my hands again and hung my head. I hadn’t even told her the worst part yet.

  “Why would he take it in the first place?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged, not wanting to utter the next words aloud. “But, Melissa, everything about Andrew is in there.”

  Melissa paused with her glass of water halfway to her mouth. She slowly returned it to the table, shook her head once, and stared back at me firmly. “Define ‘everything.’”

  “Everything,” I said not knowing how else to explain it.

  Andrew was Steven’s older brother—his very hot older brother. He and I had hooked up ages ago and both agreed never to say anything to Steven. Andrew knew how I felt about his younger brother, and the whole situation had been awful. I was only sixteen at the time, and Andrew had been twenty-two. And, for a while, we thought we were pregnant. Melissa was the only person who knew about the whole thing.

  “Why would you write it in there?” she asked.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” I said, giving a huff. “I didn’t ever think Steven would read it. Why on earth would I ever worry about that? If he reads that page. Oh, my God. If he reads that page, he will hate me forever. Andrew and I have been keeping this secret from him for ten years. Ten. Years. Melissa. I have to get it back.”

  “Obviously,” Melissa said. “And you have to kick his ass for taking it in the first place. What a sleazeball.”

  My phone chimed. We both stared at it.

  “Well,” Melissa urged. “Aren’t you going to check? It’s probably him.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. Probably is.” I reached out, my fingers trembling harder than before. I read his text aloud. “Tonight. Eight o’clock. My place.”

  I lifted my gaze slowly to Melissa. She was leaning back in her chair again, her arms crossed, wearing an expression of cool curiosity. “Are you going to go?”

  My mind raced. Steven Marx was inviting me over to his house. This wasn’t for a movie night. This wasn’t to sit around and play cards while laughing over stupid stories from college. This was for something else entirely.

  This was what I had been waiting for.

  I knocked on Steven’s door at two minutes to eight. My knuckles had only hit his door three times before he wrenched it open. He wore only a pair of sweatpants. His dark hair was an unruly mess. His eyes beheld me with an intensity I had never seen there before. It lit a fire in me.

  He reached out, one hand taking my waist, and pulled me into him. The bare skin of his chest and stomach was hot and smooth. His other hand cupped the back of my neck, and he used his thumb again
st my jaw to force me to look up at him. He was staring at my lips.

  He leaned down, closing the distance between us with agonizing slowness. Moments before his lips grazed mine, my eyes closed.

  Our lips touched. He was gentle at first. Then, his hand at the back of my neck gripped me tighter, and his kiss grew fiercer. Before I knew what I was doing, I draped my arms over his shoulders and held on to him. My lips parted, and I let his tongue slip between my teeth. I relished in how he tasted. Mint and something sweet. Something that made my knees tremble.

  His hand around my waist held me up when I thought I might turn to butter. I could feel his teeth against my bottom lip as his kiss became hungrier. I matched his intensity, burying my fingers in his hair and tightening my hands into fists.

  I tried to cement this feeling into my memory. I was kissing Steven Marx.

  He pulled me into the house, spun us both around, and kicked his door closed. It slammed into the frame, and I felt the vibration in the soles of my shoes. He pushed me backward, step by step, down his hallway. I knew where he was guiding me when we turned right. Our lips never parted. His desperate exploration of my mouth with his tongue never ceased.