by Amy Faye
The gym was clean, which was a first; she wondered how long Shannen had spent cleaning up before she got there, because its usual state was to have sweat stains all over everything, discarded energy drink bottles wherever people had thought to hide them.
Not today, though.
"Come on, you two," she called in. "We're going to be late."
Jeremy squirmed easily out of Shannen's hold, showing exactly how seriously Shannen had taken the hold, crap ground game or not. "Come on, mom," he whined. Just a few more minutes?"
"You said that ten minutes ago," Caroline reminded him. But she could already feel herself caving in. It wasn't like she was looking forward to the dinner any more than either of them were. But there were responsibilities to keep in mind, right?
It wasn't until Shannen started in with the puppy-eyed expression that she finally surrendered. "Fine," she sighed. "Ten more minutes. And not a minute more!"
They started rolling around again on the mat. Shannen let Jeremy slip his grip and made pained noises as the boy twisted his arm in what might have been an effective lock if it weren't for the hundred pound size discrepancy between them. Caroline hated this sport, but she smiled, leaned forward on the bench, and something made her shout out:
"Kick his ass for me, Jeremy! You got him!"
The boy grinned at her and tried to yank. The yelp of pain that Shannen let out wasn't totally fake this time; he pulled his arm loose and turned under the boy, pinning him to the mat, his fingers darting in and poking and tickling until Jeremy was a mess of laughter. Caroline stepped into the cage and knelt down beside them.
"Okay, big guy, I think you got him. Come on, let's get going."
Jeremy wriggled free and started moving, and Shannen looked up at her, a faint smile on his face.
"You too, mister."
"Are you gonna make me?"
She got down and straddled his waist. "You bet I am,"
"You're going to have to hurry, then, if you want to get it done before Jer gets back."
"I can tap you out in a second," she boasted. "You just don't know it yet."
He leaned up and pressed a kiss on her lips and pulled her back down with him. "Sure you can."
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Buying Love
Marriage of Convenience With Twins Romance
Amy Faye
Published by Heartthrob Publishing
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Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…
She was already slick with arousal, he thought. That was good, because as he entered her with a finger, there was no way that she was going to take him all the way without some sort of lubricant, and the natural kind was his preference if he could help it.
He pressed it in slowly at first, and was met with a gasp that he pulled out of her seemingly against her will. She went stiff on the bed and he used his thumb to nudge the crotch of her panties over a little further, to allow him access to the hardened nub at the top of her entrance.
Then he pressed down on it lightly and nudged from side to side. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat when he did, her eyes closing. Then he started to move his fingers. She squeezed him tight, seeming to want more of him that he was capable of giving. More than she was capable of taking without a stretch.
He started to move a little bit more, his thumb circling faster, though he was careful to keep his touch light and gentle. Her breath sped up to match, heaving her full, milk-laden breasts with every gasp of air. There was plenty there to like, he thought. His expectations had raised to what seemed like an impossible level, compared to the first time that he'd seen her.
Yet, she seemed to be meeting them all in spite of the odds. Sarah's legs started to writhe, as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with them. As if she wanted to kick him away and wanted to keep him as close as possible, all at once. He put his other hand on her chest, dwarfing it, and held her down as he entered her with a second finger and started to speed up.
Sarah seemed to find her strength, then, and she used it in an effort to reach for his hands, whether to stop him or to force him to continue he didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. She was going to get what she wanted, what she'd asked for. She was going to get what he wanted, most of all, though. It was just going to take a few minutes.
He flexed his fingers inside her, searching for a reaction that he wanted. She gave it to him almost immediately, her eyes squeezing shut and the opening wide and impossibly hard. There was something in those eyes, like she was seeing stars. He pressed there again and she let out a breathy moan.
"You like that?"
"Fuck," she said, as if it were an answer. He accepted the answer. He preferred his women to be speechless, but this was going to be more than close enough.
He added a third finger and she reacted like she suddenly realized that she couldn't breathe, scrabbling for a grip on anything at all. She pushed against his hand, trying to sit up. She kicked her leg and caught him in the thigh, and pushed away. He didn't stop. "You like that? Sarah?"
"Don't stop," she managed this time. The words came out like they were the only thing that she could think of. That was just about as good, too. His jaw tightened and he pushed down harder on her chest as he started to work his hands harder, faster. She twisted under him as the walls of her womanhood stuck to him and tried to mold themselves to the shape of his fingers. They were going to need to learn to cope with just that much, if he was going to take her tonight.
Then he wiggled all three of them, searching once again to see if there was anything he'd missed on first inspection, and hit on the same spot that had set her going the first time.
This time, it wasn't soft or low, it wasn't breathy. "Fuck!" She tried to sit up again, a constant tension pressed against his hands. One of her hands found his arm and grabbed on tight and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Her walls clamped down as hard as they could, squeezing into every space between his fingers. Her breaths came out as soft moans, 'Oh, oh, oh, oh.'
He didn't stop until she had slackened underneath him until her entire body seemed to fall apart at once and she was left breathing hard with a vacant, satisfied expression on her face. Her arm fell away from his and she took breaths as deep as the hand pressing her to the bed would allow. He pulled away, let her breathe. Slower, he withdrew the fingers that he'd fit inside her. She let out another moan, softer, almost disappointed as he did.
"You liked that, huh?"
"Uh huh," she said, words apparently failing her. Her eyes drifted shut and her arm rose again, tracing the line of his arm, feeling it through the fabric of his shirt.
"You want me to fuck you, now?"
Her eyes still closed, she bit her lip and nodded. He took a breast in the palm of his hand and felt the softness press back against him. He liked her body, he thought. There was a lot to like about it, as bodies went. It just so happened that he'd married this one.
He started working the buttons on his shirt methodically, from top to bottom. She propped herself back up onto her elbows, her breasts making an appealing pool on her chest, threatening to distract him, and she watched him undress.
He'd looked better in college, but then again, so did everyone else. It wasn't as if he wasn't good looking
now, more or less. She reached up and grabbed his hand as he made it halfway down his chest, pulled it away. Then she got her weight centered over her hips properly and started to work the buttons herself.
Her lips, soft and pleasant and everything he could have wanted in a woman, traced behind, kissing each inch of skin as she revealed it. It was hard not to think of where those lips would go, if she kept the trend up.
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1
Sarah felt her life slipping away from her, and there was nothing that she could do but watch. Cole was standing at the other table; it was nothing like Judge Judy at all. He and his lawyer got to say their piece. Meanwhile, Sarah had to let him. The woman she'd hired just let him lie his ass off. Apparently that was her job, and the part where they revealed his lies was all going to come later.
It never did. There had been months of lead-up to the child support hearing, but Sarah hadn't been there for much of it. It was supposed to be easy. Open-and-shut. Cole was the twins' father. He was supposed to provide for them. He'd been working for his father for so long that there was no reason to ever assume that there was going to be a problem with money.
Then they just let him go up on the stand and claim that he didn't have work, that he had no money to give. Which was when the woman gave Sarah the bad news. Sure, he had work. Sure, he had money. He had so much money that he didn't know what to do with it. He couldn't have spent it all in fifty years, if he tried hard.
But it was all hidden. Really, it was all his dad's money, and that meant that he didn't have any way to touch it. Therefor, they couldn't take from him what he didn't have. It didn't matter, of course, that he could get it any time. That all he had to do was want it sufficiently badly and Daddy would give him anything he asked for.
It didn't matter that he'd gotten Sarah in trouble, and it didn't matter that now she had two little angels sitting on the bench beside her, in a pair of car-seat carriers, one of them blue and the other green.
It didn't matter that they had their Daddy's eyes, because they didn't have his last name, and they weren't going to. All of it made her sick to her stomach.
She personally knew no fewer than a dozen women who would have loved to be grandmothers, through her classes. Their husbands would have loved to be grandfathers. It wasn't long after she had gotten pregnant that one of their children had gotten pregnant, and everyone had gone nuts.
That seemed like the obvious way to feel about the whole thing. Cole Greer wasn't excited. He'd told her to get rid of them. Robert should have been excited, even if his son wasn't. But no. She was just white trash from downriver, and she might as well have been nothing at all to him. A parasite.
She was here to take his money so that she could buy shoes. There had always been an implication, when they were dating. Sometimes, there might have been other cases like hers. Girls who everyone had decided, without a single question or word were gold-diggers.
At least some of them, she hoped, had gotten a chance to defend themselves. Not Sarah. And worse, she hadn't even gotten the decency of them keeping it a secret. Whenever she was around, it was attacking her, left and right, and if she tried to say something about it they'd just talk right over her.
Well, they had money, and she didn't, and that was all that seemed to matter now. She didn't have the money for all Cole's lawyers. She didn't have the money for two little girls, either. But they were all she had, and all she'd ever wanted, and she couldn't just get rid of them no matter what Cole said, or what Robert said, or what anyone said.
She wiped her eyes and turned to the woman beside her and asked when she could leave. The woman shook her head. They'd have to wait. It was a foregone conclusion at this point, but she had to sit here and endure the humiliation for as long as possible. And why?
Because it would be an insult to the court. Never mind the parade of people that they brought forward, some of them she'd never even met, to tell the whole court about what a slut she was, how she was just in it for the money, how she'd put out for anyone at all.
Cole had been her first and her only and they had to have known it was all lies. It didn't matter. They needed to prove that she was a gold digger, so they proved it. They also proved that anyone Sarah might have imagined to be her friend was decidedly not.
Apparently they needed the money that Robert Greer could offer more than they needed to tell the truth, and nobody could catch the lie because the truth was that it was her word against theirs, and she had a nice profit motive to lie. So why would she tell the truth?
She covered her face and waited for it to end. In the end, after barely an hour of humiliating her, one person after another, until everyone she'd ever met and several people she didn't had told the whole world that anyone who cared to could get all the way to China in her hole, the case was thrown out and she was left with nothing but two little girls and a car that would, hopefully, last long enough to get her through the month.
She wasn't going to cry, though. She'd promised herself that. It was hard to force herself not to. She wanted nothing more than to just let loose and sob right there, but she wasn't going to do that. Not if she could help it. So she sucked in a deep breath of air, picked up Alison and Chelsea, and walked out.
A voice behind her called out. She didn't stop. It was Cole, and it didn't matter what he had to say at that point. He knew what he'd done and he'd chosen to go forward with it, knowing full well what it would do to her. What it would do to her reputation.
"I'm sorry," he said. Not for the first time since this had all started. It always ended with 'but...'
This time wasn't going to be any different, and it didn't matter if it was. It was too late for 'sorry.' He'd already pulled the trigger. She was lucky if the whole thing didn't reach the school and get her fired from teaching, too.
She kept walking, and he caught up with her.
"Sarah, talk to me."
"It's a little late for that," she said, her voice hard and low.
"Sarah, I'm sorry."
"You can go to hell, Cole Greer. I hope I never see you again in a million years."
"I just... I wish you'd listened to me, okay?"
She had listened to him for three long years. She'd listened to him when he told her to give up on waiting for marriage. They were a sure thing anyways. Nothing was going to come between them.
He'd listened to her when he told her that it was fine to let him shoot it inside her, in the heat of the moment. She'd listened when he said 'come on, I'll take responsibility' like he meant it. He meant a lot of things when he was fucking her. It turned out that what he meant most of all was that he wanted to cum. Everything else was a little hazy in his mind, as to whether or not he meant it.
When he'd told her to get rid of them, that was when she'd stopped listening. It shouldn't have taken so long. She should have realized that he didn't have her best interests at heart a long time before that. But she had listened and listened and listened and it wasn't until she heard him suggest murdering her babies that she realized that the only one who Cole Greer cared about was himself.
So when he'd told her to let it go, or take a few hundred dollars a month, barely enough to feed the babies for a week, when he was spending ten thousand a month putting shit up his nose, she didn't listen to that either.
Well, maybe she should have listened to him, because a couple hundred was a hell of a lot better than nothing at all, and at least then she wouldn't have been publicly humiliated.
He put his hand on his arm and she yanked Chelsea away. It woke her, and she started to let out a shriek. The shriek woke her little sister, and then it was two of them, and finally Sarah joined in with them, shouting right in his face.
It was decidedly un-Christian of her to scream right in his face like that. To feel the absolute fury that she was feeling. To feel like if she could have, she'd have stabbed him right then and there in
his smug chest.
But she felt that way and she screamed.
"Don't you fucking touch me!"
For a long second, nobody moved. And then someone stood up from the bench beside them, and a six-foot four monster of a man looked down at Cole like he might have looked down at a cockroach.
"I think she wants you to leave her alone, man," he said.
Cole's face flashed with fear, and a moment later he replaced it with anger. Nobody talked to him like that, and they sure as hell weren't going to get away with it.
2
Dan Bryant wasn't a fan of men who put their hands on women. It was one of his things. Maybe it was inappropriate these days; after all, the politically correct view was that men and women were all the same, except one had a softer chest and an innie rather than an outie.
That wasn't how he saw it, personally. But that was what his PR people told him that it was supposed to be. There was no practical difference, just the fleshy parts.
Well, the fleshy parts of one were stronger than the other, and in this case it was a guy maybe five-ten and a hundred seventy pounds, with a shirt that fit tight enough to show that he liked to work out. The woman, on the other hand, might have been five-three, maybe a little more than half the guy's weight if not for a little remaining weight around her waist, and she was hauling two baby carriers after her.
So when he reached out and put a hand around her arm and squeezed tight enough that the flesh around his knuckles turned white, hard enough that it deformed the shape of her arm, it wasn't just a little thing to him, even though it should have been.
Because they were totally equal in every way, but he was twice her size. And more than that, because they weren't totally equal in every way. He'd never thought that, and it wasn't how he was raised. It was just something that people were saying these days, far as he was concerned, and he was perfectly willing to say the words but he wasn't willing to let a women get hit over it.
