by Stasia Black
We’ve had sex since the doctor told us it was safe. But with my wicked morning sickness that seemed to last forever, the occasions have still been too few and far between for my liking.
That’s it.
No more.
He’s sweaty, I’m wet, and like the horses, this is a lady who’s ready to be ridden hard.
I swing Hot Lips’s stall door closed, hang up her brush, and then stalk toward Xavier, unbuttoning my own shirt and flinging it to the ground in a move that’s probably over the top. By the widening of his eyes, though, I’d say I’m getting my point across.
I’m wearing a camisole underneath and I don’t hesitate in whipping it over my head as well. In almost the same motion, I unsnap my bra and then I’m standing before him in nothing but my Wranglers and boots.
My nipples quickly pebble to hard points under his gaze.
It’s when his gaze drops lower to my rounded stomach that his eyes really flare, though.
That’s a development as of a couple weeks ago. I was embarrassed at first but then kind of struck with awe. The peanut’s big enough that he’s starting to make my belly stick out. Okay, according to the baby site Xavier and I now check religiously each week, at five months, he or she is now the size of an eggplant. His or her brain function and hearing are developing this week, so the kiddo can start recognizing the sound of our voices.
Cue Xavier talking and singing non-stop to my stomach.
Which, yes, is freaking adorable. He has a really good singing voice, too. The things I’m learning about this man.
On my first day here, could I have ever imagined the scary hulk on his knees cradling my stomach to his lips and crooning Hozier and Decemberist lyrics to my belly? Uh… no.
Except right now, I’m hoping he’s not thinking about our sweet little eggplant.
When his hand reaches out, it’s not my stomach he touches.
But he doesn’t go for my breasts either.
No, he grabs my hips. Just long enough to twirl me toward the wall.
“Over,” his rough voice demands, pushing my back down.
I bend over and grab onto the edge of the sink basin for balance.
Xavier rips my jeans down my legs.
“Are you wet?” he growls out.
“Yes,” I rasp.
There’s no foreplay or preamble.
His cock shoves right in.
“Oh God, yes!” I scream, pounding a hand on the sink. I don’t care if I scare the horses. This is what I’ve been needing. He’s been so goddamned careful with me the times we have had sex and goddamn it, I’ve just needed him to—
“Fuck me,” I yell at him. “I just need you to ram me so fucking hard. If you hold back, I swear I’ll—”
“Like this?” he roars back, pumping his hips furiously. His cock feels so goddamned amazing every time he bottoms out, his balls slapping my ass. The sound is so profane and fucking hot and just, God.
“A pet should let her Master know when she needs taking care of.” He reaches around and palms my breast, first squeezing the whole thing in his hand, then plucking the nipple with his fingers as he continues his merciless drive in and out of my pussy. “You’ve been a bad girl, not communicating your needs.”
He squeezes my nipple so hard I cry out at the exquisite torture of it and then he smacks my ass.
“Oh fuck, yes, I’m a bad, bad fucking girl,” I pant, grabbing on to the sink and meeting him thrust for thrust, writhing and grinding my ass against his pelvis. His hands go to my hips and I hear him swear. He clutches me with what feels like a white-knuckled grip as he drives in even harder still.
Finally he’s hitting that perfect spot so deep inside me.
“Oh God, yes. There. Right there!” I’ve never been so vocal during sex but, God, I need it, never needed it so much, so hard, just—
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh—” I screech and he rams and rams me again in the perfect spot and stars burst.
I squeeze the fuck out of his dick as the climax hits me so goddamn hard. Oh God, it’s so sweet. So hard. So goooooooood.
But still, not enough.
I want more.
I want it all.
“More,” I gasp when I can breathe again. “Give it to me again.”
“Greedy,” he says, one hand clutching my hip even tighter while the other plucks at my peaked nipple. Then his glorious cock is slipping out of me. I whine in frustration but he’s chuckling and drawing me with him to the stable floor where he’s thrown down a saddle blanket. He lays both of us down and drags off my boots and jeans so I’m entirely naked in the center of the stable. I couldn’t care less. I can’t take my eyes off his thick, pulsing cock.
Then finally, finally, he pulls me down on top of him so I’m straddling him.
Again, with no preamble, he grabs himself and within seconds, he’s directing his monster cock back inside me.
I groan and my eyelids flutter at how right it feels having him there.
“I know you’ve missed riding. So let me give you what you’ve been missing, Precious.”
He lays back, propping his hands behind his head as he looks at me straddling him, that mischievous grin on his face. “Here’s your chance. But you better grip my cock as tight as you can. It takes a lot to satisfy me. You’ve gotta grip me hard with that luscious cunt if you want to get the job done.”
My inner muscles respond to his crude words. I’ll show him. I’ll give him the fucking ride of his life.
This is a new position for us but it works well with my expanding stomach. I shift my hips experimentally and Xavier’s entire body flexes in response.
I grin, wondering exactly how much self-discipline it’s taking for him to keep his hands behind his head instead of grabbing me, flipping me over, and controlling the situation like I know he loves to.
But hell no, I’m not giving up this power.
I shift my hips again, a rolling motion, grinding down and against his pelvis. My eyes pop open because, holy God, that hits the spot.
Xavier’s grin settles into a smirk as he watches me. I narrow my eyes at him. Oh, I’m going to drive him just as insane as he always makes me, just you wait.
“Good Masters deserve rewards, too,” I say, intentionally making my voice somewhat breathless. I start rolling my hips, drawing up and then down on his cock, each time grinding my clit against the base of him.
I don’t have to fake my breathy moans as I draw my hands down my neck. I grasp my breasts and arch my back.
“Oh God,” I gasp. “I can feel your cock so… deep. Fucking me. It’s so good.” Yeah. Not an act. Goddamn him, but he really drives me this insane. And actually letting it out—just saying out loud all the things that are always going through my head? It feels so dirty and ramps everything I’m feeling up even higher. Especially when I see Xavier’s responses. The way his jaw is getting so tight and how his nostrils flare every time I pinch my nipples.
I cinch them between my thumb and forefinger until they’re hard little points, my high-pitched pants ramping up higher and higher as my pleasure heightens. Xavier swallows hard as his blue eyes darken. “Fuck. You make it so fucking good. Every… oh God, every time.” I close my eyes and throw my head back, clawing at my own breasts.
Then I drop a finger down and run it through my own juices at my clitoris and my lips where Xavier’s giant cock rises to meet my every downward hip roll.
I tilt my head back to stare at him right as I suck the forefinger soaked in my juices into my mouth.
Apparently that’s all it takes to break through his iron-willed control because with an animal growl, he finally gives up on the whole observation-only approach. His hands move from behind his head to seize my hips.
Then he takes control of everything. He holds my hips in place as he pumps into me from below, thrusts that are so intense and deep they take my breath away. His sweat-drenched abs flex with every lunge.
“That’s right. Take what I give you. Take it and fu
cking love it.” His eyes move between an intense focus on his cock dominating my pussy and locking with my gaze as he drives me closer and closer to the peak.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” I cry as he drags me back and forth over the base of his cock with each up-thrust. My hands fall to his rock-hard chest. We’re both wet from sweat and my pussy squelches on his cock I’m so fucking wet for him.
When he does an ab curl and his lips begin devouring mine, I’m done for.
I cry my climax into his mouth. It’s so strong and high and long I clutch him, feeling the entire foundation of my world rocked. “I love you,” I gasp right on the tail end of the comet.
“Fuck. Precious,” he whispers with a hoarse gasp and then follows me right over the cliff, pushing so deep and stilling there.
We lie there gasping in each other’s arms. I’m hot and sweaty and the air is scented with sex and a moment has never been more perfect.
At least until I feel the baby start to move.
“Xavier!” I gasp. I grab his hand and put it on my belly. “Do you feel it?” I ask excitedly.
Feeling the baby move has been one of the freakiest and most amazing things of my life. But every time I try to share the experience with Xavier, the kiddo gets all zen and goes back to sleep. Without fail, whenever I grab Xavier’s hand so he can feel, movement goes from super active to nada.
When I look up into Xavier’s face, I can see the same hopeful expectation. Followed moments later when nothing happens by resignation.
“Not today,” he says with a small disappointed smile, moving to withdraw his hand.
Which is when the kiddo starts doing freaking acrobatics.
“Shit. Holy shit!” Xavier says, moving so he can press both hands to my stomach even though it means upending me off his chest.
I laugh though because I can see the wonder on his face as he finally feels the miracle that’s been amazing me for several weeks.
His eyes shoot up to meet mine, a childlike sort of astonishment written all over his face, before he goes back to intensely staring at his hands on my belly like he can see through it to his son or daughter beyond.
And I don’t know if the kid got woken up by all the activity of moments before or if it was the salsa I had with my eggs this morning, but he or she is doing friggin’ somersaults in there.
Xavier keeps his hands on my stomach for a good ten minutes, his face a picture of devoted concentration and awe.
“You’re going to be an amazing father,” I say when Jr. finally settles back down and stops moving.
Xavier looks at me. For a second I can’t make out the expression on his face. His eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth open like he’s at a loss. Finally, he whispers, “I don’t know how to be this happy.” He shakes his head. “A man like me doesn’t deserve it.”
I scrunch my face. “What are you talking about? Of course you deserve—”
But Xavier’s suddenly in motion. He’s up, grabbing my underwear and jeans. Naturally he doesn’t hand them to me like a normal person would. He starts to dress me.
I throw a hand over my face. “I don’t want to move.”
He chuckles. “Somehow I bet you’ll think different when the mosquitos start coming out. It’s almost sundown and you know they’ll be out in droves.”
I groan but when he holds down a hand to help me up, I grudgingly let him pull me to my feet. I step back into my boots even though my legs feel like total jelly. I stumble a little while pulling my shirt back on over my head. He holds me steady at the last second.
“Whoa there.” He can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Have a bit of a rough ride, did ya?”
My eyes are at half-mast. I know it’s the guys who are supposed to get sleepy after sex, but I’m always taking naps these days. According to the websites, I’m supposed to get a second wind of energy somewhere here in the second trimester but that has yet to hit. I’m still Ms. Nappy McNappy Pants.
His eyes soften and he reaches forward to push a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Let’s get you to the house for a before-dinner nap, how about that?”
I use my last ounces of strength to lift up on tiptoe and kiss his lips. “You really can be a sweetheart.” Then I pull back. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”
I get a swat on my backside for that one.
I laugh and jump ahead a few steps. He naturally chases me. I’m still giggling when I get out of the stables and freeze at seeing a serious-looking man in a business suit frowning at us.
I back up a few steps and run into Xavier, who’s arm immediately snakes around my stomach protectively.
Standing as close as we are, I feel the sudden tension that makes Xavier’s muscles go rigid. I look up and his face is hard, his jaw stiff.
“Father,” he bites out. “What are you doing here?
Chapter 19
“There’s not much time left to live up to your end of the bargain. I’ve come to check on your progress.”
Xavier’s silent while the man—Xavier’s father—looks me up and down.
Out of old habit, I can’t help looking at his suit. The cut is excellent. And the fabric. Top of the line tailoring. Tortoise shell buttons. Hand stitching.
And his shoes. He’s standing out here in a horse paddock full of cow pies in a pair of goddamned Stefano Bemer’s, if I haven’t lost my old touch. Not a household name, but those shoes can retail at three to four thousand dollars a pair. We’re talking stupid money.
“But I see you’ve made a start of it.” The corners of Xavier’s father’s mouth turn down. “I can’t imagine where you found her. Farmer’s Monthly?”
Xavier steps in front of me, blocking me from his dad’s sight.
“Get the hell off my property.”
His father sighs even as I strain to look over Xavier’s shoulder. I can’t help but want to get a peek at the man who sired my surly, mountainous lover. He looks a little familiar. Maybe I’m just seeing Xavier’s features in him?
“Look, I’m sorry,” his dad says, holding out a hand. He’s a tall man but not nearly as broad-shouldered as his son.
Maybe his mom was a female heavyweight champ or did Olympic shot put?
“We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot again,” his dad continues, sighing heavily. “I just want to talk. Maybe we could go inside and…” He lifts his leg and tries to shake some caked up mud off his fancy shoe—at least hopefully it’s mud.
He looks beseechingly at Xavier.
Xavier stands unmoved with his beefy arms crossed over his chest.
Awkward silence doesn’t even begin to describe the quiet that falls over the three of us. Xavier might be cool with that and even his dad bears it out bravely, but I’m a wimp and my Chatty Cathy instincts bust to the fore.
“We haven’t been introduced.” I step around Xavier before he can stop me. “I’m Melanie Va—” I catch myself just in time. It’s been half a year but I doubt the world has forgotten so quickly about my father’s scandal even though out here, it feels a million miles away and about three centuries ago. “I’m Melanie,” I finish a little lamely but smile as I hold out my hand.
Xavier’s dad seems glad for the reprieve and he takes my hand and shakes it warmly. “Lovely to meet you, Melanie. I’m Pritchard.” There’s a bit of silence, then he looks between Xavier and me. “So, how long have you known my son?”
“Wow, Dad, that took you a whole three seconds after introductions,” Xavier says scathingly.
I glance back to Xavier, then swallow, and, on what is probably the wrong impulse—decide to tell the truth. “We met about six months ago when we agreed to this mutual experiment,” I rub my baby bump. Then I wince at my wording. “I mean, you know, this amazing adventure,” I rush on in a gushing voice. “Nothing more amazing than bringing a child into this world!”
I lean in chummily to Pritchard. “Except giving one a good kick in the pants when they deserve it,” I point a thumb back at Xavier and then fo
rce a chuckle of camaraderie. “Am I right?”
Oh God, oh God, someone shut me up. Am I really trying to bond with the enemy? The way Xavier was acting, it sure seemed like his dad was an enemy. But, holy information Batman. This is my baby’s grandfather. And there’s so much I don’t know about Xavier. Surely this is the man who can give me the motherload—or rather, fatherload—of info I’m so hungry for. And what did he mean bargain? Like the baby was some sort of bet or something between them.
Pritchard chuckles along with me. “You have no idea. He’s been a constant pain in my ass since he was about eighteen months old and mastered the word no.”
I keep a pleasant smile on my face in spite of my roiling thoughts. “Come on, join us for dinner. We’ve got a shepherd’s pie warming in the oven.”
Both men look at me in surprise. I’m not sure who looks more so.
“That sounds… delightful…” Pritchard says with a broad smile that belies the reluctance of his words.
Xavier scoffs. “I don’t know, Dad. Do you think your highly developed palate can handle something as common place as shepherd’s pie?”
Pritchard ignores his son and looks at me. “As I said, it sounds delightful. If you might show me where I can clean up for our meal?”
I struggle not to react to his overly formal speech and mannerisms. I glance back at Xavier one more time and he makes an overexaggerated gesture for me to lead on.
I start back toward the house and am surprised when not only Pritchard but Xavier himself follow me. Once the house is in view, I gesture on ahead.
“You can let yourself in through the kitchen, the bathroom is down the hall and to the left. You can clean up there.”
Pritchard pauses, his gaze briefly locking with his son’s before he heads up toward the house.
I immediately swing around to Xavier.
“Holy shit!” I smack him on the chest. “You never told me your father was Mr. Moneybags. I mean, I guessed you were rich because of the whole get-my-Dad-out-of-the-country thing.” I pace in front of him. “But you don’t wear it like that.” I pause and look at him again. “So, what is it? Are you guys old money? Did you strike it rich back in the day like the Rockefellers? Or do you run guns?” I start nodding. “I thought mafia from the beginning.”
