by Sosie Frost
I didn’t need this bullshit. “Yeah, that’s me. Solving problems without my fists.”
“Revolutionary.”
“You should try it,” I said.
“And be what? More like you?” Tidus snorted. “Parading around the fairground, groveling to that zoning officer, begging for a chance to rebuild the barn and make Daddy’s memory proud?”
I’d split his top lip to match the bottom. “At least I’m trying. At least I’m doing something with my life.”
“Doing what? Micah Robinson? Are you still banging the broad?”
I stayed silent. My brother grinned.
“Son of a bitch. Are you that bad at seducing her, or are you actually starting to like this girl?”
Good fucking question. And I didn’t have a goddamned answer.
I didn’t know what Micah wanted. What I wanted.
Didn’t know what the hell to do about her, the baby, our agreement.
Fucking Tidus.
I scowled. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh shit,” he laughed. “You’re getting more than the barn, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m getting screwed.”
“Lucky bastard.”
Lucky?
Hell no.
Lucky would have been going home to get laid, sleeping in, then finishing the damn festival tomorrow night with no fistfights, unsanctioned animal breeding, pie conspiracies, or overturned porta-potties. Lucky would be closing the fair with a fantastic fireworks display courtesy of Four Men and A Pig Fertilizer that would so delight the town that Micah’s job would be safe for another year.
But then what?
I had no idea what to expect. What would happen when the fair was over, the barn was up, and we couldn’t hide the pregnancy any longer?
I’d gambled enough with my life, risking my health and ruining the successes I might have had. My life—and with it, my family’s future—relied on the decisions I made now. Everyone depended on me to fix what I’d broken and solve problems that had no real solution.
Nothing was easy anymore. I could do nothing to fix the past.
But I could ensure a good future for me, my family, and for Micah and the baby.
If she’d let me.
I made it to her house before midnight, but she was still up. Not good hours for a woman so early in her pregnancy. Micah waited for me in a long t-shirt and nothing else, not even a scrap of panties to tease the secrets under the shirt’s hem. Her dark, perfectly sculpted legs teased me as she rubbed the back of her calf with those manicured toes.
Micah bit her lip, hiding a million-dollar smirk that made me a richer man for earning it.
“You should smile more,” I said.
Micah arched an eyebrow. “And you should take off your pants.”
“You’re beautiful when you smile. Beautiful always, but when you smile…”
She awkwardly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you’re…handsome without the pants. Let’s go.”
In another time, another world, another circumstance, I wouldn’t have needed the request. I’d have dumped her onto the couch, tossed her ankles behind her ears, and licked her puffy, exposed pussy until she trembled and moaned.
But I didn’t move.
And I had no idea why I’d fucked myself over by being honest.
“We need to talk about the baby,” I said.
Micah tugged at her shirt, grazing the curve of her ass. “Now?”
“We should do it sometime.”
She disagreed. “Jules, I’m tired. It’s late. We have one more day of the fair—”
“We haven’t talked about it. At all.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Anything. Everything.” Us. The future. “Like…your doctors’ appointments. Baby furniture. Names.”
Micah hesitated. “I have most of that already planned.”
Of fucking course she did.
She shuffled to her purse, awkwardly bending at the knees to prevent the shirt from exposing too much of her curves. She swiped her cell and opened a calendar app. The screen flashed. Dozens of color coded events populated in the day-by-day planner. Everything from monthly meetings in red, work related project deadlines in yellow, and her personal catalog in green of grocery trips, pay periods, and garbage days.
Her life was entirely scripted from the moment she woke until the instant she went to sleep. And there, in bright pink, was everything baby. She tapped on another app to reveal the Doctor’s appointments, growth charts, items to purchase, budgets, potential names, and dates for scheduled discussions with me.
I took her phone and flipped through nine fucking months of detailed planning, up to the day she’d decided would be her induced labor and the maternity time which followed.
The weekends had a different color. My stomach twisted as I realized where I suddenly fit into this goddamned freak show.
The dates in blue were custody arrangements.
In all of her planning, all of her carefully scripted budgets and appointments and life goals, she hadn’t even considered raising the child together.
“You don’t need to worry about anything,” Micah said. Was she actually proud of this bullshit? “I couldn’t sleep the past couple nights, so I worked out a plan.”
“A plan.”
“It seems actionable.”
We were having a baby, not setting up a goddamned fair. She couldn’t just schedule in days for doctors and afternoons where we purchased the first of the supplies we’d need for the kid.
Micah took all the fun out of waiting, wondering, and hoping for the future.
And, even worse, she’d planned a future without me.
“Don’t you see a problem with this?” I handed the phone back. Should have pitched it into the wall.
Micah studied the calendar. “Did I forget something important?”
Yeah, the father. “Think you should have asked my opinion on some of this?”
She stilled. “I thought we’d agreed—”
“This isn’t about sex,” I said. “This is about the baby. You have a sonogram in two weeks. You didn’t tell me.”
“Did you want to come?”
Jesus fuck. “Of course! You’re carrying my baby. Like it or not, our paths are gonna cross outside the goddamned bedroom.”
Micah frowned. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“You’re not acting like it.”
“Jules, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my life—” She flashed the phone again, highlighting the absolute chaos that was this week’s county fair. “My life is out of control. I’ve got more to worry about than a sonogram next month. The council is trying their damnedest to fire me. The mayor is meddling in my application process. The pie conspiracy has blown up and is now running their own Facebook group with three hundred members. There’s brownouts hitting the fairgrounds, there’s a damn monsoon coming tomorrow just in time for my fireworks, and I can’t keep two sheep from making baabies.” She covered her face. “So, I’m sorry if I’ve been too busy to sign you up for a Lamaze class.”
“You could let me help,” I said.
“You are helping.”
“Tossing haybales and coordinating senior citizen bingo isn’t helping. You’re keeping me at a distance.”
Micah had nothing to say when I’d trapped her with the truth. Her expression crumpled, and her voice dropped.
“Julian, I’m trying to save my job.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t know. You have no idea how hard I’m working to make sure everyone is happy. The mayor. The council. The residents. You.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “I have to keep this job. Without it, my life…my plans…they’re ruined.”
“Forget the plan, Micah. We’ll make a new one together.”
She refused to look at me, fiddling with her manicure instead. “I can’t do that. I need a clear-cut path for me to follow. I need a steady job. I need the experi
ence that job can offer. I need the savings in the bank and the connections and networking it provides. That’s the only way to advance my career. If I lose this job…”
Her hand fluttered to her tummy. Protective.
I clenched my jaw. “Say it.”
Micah met my gaze. “I need this job so I can provide for the baby.”
And there it was. The truth. In all the planning and all the worry, she’d never once looked to the one man who might have made it easier for her. It was like the baby’s father didn’t exist.
Like she wouldn’t let me get near.
My voice hardened, a quiet insult. “You don’t think I’d help you?”
“I can’t rely on you.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t rely on you.”
Micah’s shirt rode up and exposed her curves. It flustered her. Too revealing for the conversation. She stole the blanket from the couch and held it before her, shielding a body I’d already worshiped and memorized.
“Cowboy, we’re not…”
“What?”
She couldn’t meet my gaze. “We’re having a baby, but we’re not together. We’re not a normal couple who could just plan these things together.”
But we could be. If she would let me in. If she’d give me a goddamned chance.
“Right. We’re just fucking.” The word tasted bitter. “Why ruin a good thing?”
Micah’s temper flared, a little firecracker who sparked but never burst. Letting loose might have been good for her. Helped her to undignify herself and tumble off her golden pedestal.
“What’s wrong with the arrangement we have now?” she asked. “What is so bad about me breaking the rules this one time? I never once done anything like this, cowboy. Never slept with a stranger. Never had hookups. Never let a relationship interfere with my job before.”
“Never lived a day in your pre-planned life.”
Micah simmered, ready to pop. “I needed to plan my life, Jules. When I cut ties with my father, I had nothing. No money. No place to live. Nowhere to go. The only thing I could do was keep my life organized, so I could focus on my education and my career. And it worked.” Her words turned into a hiss. “Until you. I had my life planned, Julian Payne, until I met you.”
I grinned. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”
“Fucking you isn’t an inconvenience. It’s sex. Good sex. But that’s all it is. We agreed, Julian.”
Father to her child, but little more than a one-night stand. At least I knew my value. “You’re right. And I’m glad to help. I’m here to bend you over whenever you need a little boost. Hump the stress right out of you.”
It insulted her.
Good.
Micah flinched. “What did you expect? We’d get through the festival and then…what?”
“That’s the difference between us, princess. I didn’t plan for anything. I know I’m gonna be there—for you, for the baby, for whatever you need.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
No. It was crystal-fucking-clear to the son of a bitch who’d already realized what he wanted.
“Then what do we do?” I asked. “Finish the fair. I get my barn. We pretend like nothing ever happened? What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
Bullshit. “Be honest. Why am I even here tonight?”
“Don’t.”
“You wanted me to fuck you.”
Micah spoke through clenched teeth. “Think I’ve changed my mind.”
“Liar.” I chuckled. “Hide that pussy all you want, but your nipples are boring a hole through your shirt.”
She yelped, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Don’t you have any tact?”
“Don’t you want to fuck?” I asked. “I know you’re probably soaking wet, just hoping I rip that blanket away and fuck you senseless on that couch.”
“You’re such a prick.”
“I’m also right.”
“Fine.” Micah dropped the blanket herself. “Here’s the truth. I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and fuck until morning. Today has been one of the worst days of my life. Between the ground bees attacking the marching band, the lemonade stand explosion, and the bagged goldfish genocide at the ducky pond game, I just needed something to go right for me. I invited you over because I wanted…I’d hoped…”
“That I’d rut you like I did yesterday in the tent?”
Micah surrendered, enraged and squirming. “Yes.”
“You sure? Better check your schedule and make sure you’re free to take my cock.”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I scowled. “Foreplay is your middle name, princess.”
“Do you want foreplay?” Micah shimmied out of the t-shirt and challenged me, naked and beautiful and frustrating and enthralling. “Or do you want me? Choice is yours, cowboy.”
Not a hard choice. Micah tread a thin line between seduction and aggravation. I’d either get screwed, or I’d have the fuck of my life.
No sense wasting the opportunity. Micah was a gorgeous, desperate, pain in my ass with a honey-coated slit and tits begging for my mouth. The little brat reduced me to a goddamned animal, but she was only honest when I mounted her in lust.
She teased me. She tormented me. She needed me. She pushed me away. She was my worst nightmare and my biggest fantasy, making my days miserable and my nights unforgettable.
So why wouldn’t I fuck her?
Why wouldn’t I take her?
Why wouldn’t I ruin my life for her?
Because I knew what would happen the instant I took her in my arms.
And I was so goddamned in love with the prissy little princess that I’d have done anything—even broken my own fucking heart—if it meant giving her even an ounce of pleasure.
“Here I am doing you a goddamned favor.” I kicked off my boots and removed my shirt “You’re not even grateful.”
“You haven’t done anything yet, cowboy.”
My cock—a raging beast pulsing for a chance to punish the little vixen—excited Micah. I pulled her close and ground the hardness into her hip. She gasped, but I’d get no secret smiles from her tonight. No giggles. No softness. No moment when she’d share my breathing, my gaze, my heartbeat.
Micah offered me her body, but she hid everything real. Her thoughts and fears, desires and dreams.
It really was just sex to her.
And I was the dumb bastard stupid enough to want more.
“You’re the only woman in the world who makes fucking feel like work,” I said. “That’s a rare talent.”
“Oh, I’m a regular nine-to-five. Do it good, and you might get a bonus.”
I dumped her onto the couch. “After this, I deserve a break. I could use the time away from you.”
She protested, but her legs parted as I dove for that slit. Hot. Wet. Waiting. Micah was an ice queen who’d melt my goddamned fingers as I threaded them inside of her.
“Don’t get my hopes up, cowboy.” Her breathing shuddered as I laced my fingers over her slit, slamming each stroke a little too hard into her clit. “A day without you? There’s an event that deserves fireworks.”
“Just say the word, princess. No one likes a tease.”
Micah arched, her pussy clenching on my fingers. “You’re such a prick.”
“You’re the one begging for it.”
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
My cock ached as I unzipped my jeans. Micah dared to challenge me, grabbing my length and pumping it hard. I pushed her down, falling over her curves. Her legs spread, instinctively wrapping around me. She held her breath. I kissed the gasp into her.
With a callous thrust, I buried myself in that sweet, maddeningly-tight pussy. My body seized in delicious agony.
Christ, she was tight.
And hot.
And enveloped me in a silken perfection that drove the air from my lungs and the blood to my cock.
/> Her head fell back with a satisfied hiss. That wasn’t good enough. I wanted her screaming my name, begging for more, moaning every honest truth she’d deny once our bodies were spent and exhausted.
I thrust deep into her. Once. Twice. And we tumbled together into the rough, angry, meaningless fucking that had tortured us for weeks.
“This what you wanted?” My words clipped, dragged into a harsh groan as her heat consumed my every breath and thought and rational impulse. “You wanted me?”
Micah denied me even when impaled with nine inches of solid proof. “I wanted to feel good.”
“Just say it, princess. You needed me. You needed this cock. You needed what only I could give you.”
She bit her lip. Tried to fight the pleasure. Too bad I knew what the little minx liked, what would make her arch and beg and surrender to me. I tightened my hold on her, forcing our bodies closer and my cock deeper.
Her fingernails dug into my shoulders. Her eyes never left mine.
“You’re the one chasing me,” she whispered.
“So why can’t I get rid of you now?”
My cock pounded against her perfect tightness. Every inch drove us both to that inescapable, uncompromising insanity. A shared oblivion we’d hate and love and desire. I panted, breathing rough, body slick with sweat.
I stilled, holding her hips in place. Leaving myself completely imbedded inside of her.
The question burned through me. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
Micah arched and thrust her hips to meet mine.
I seized her lips in a kiss that turned to a ravenous bite. “Why can’t I stop dreaming about you?”
Her fingernails clawed at my arms, my back, my neck. She tensed over me, milking my cock, quivering in an unrelenting orgasm that stole her voice, her strength, her rage.
I quickened my pace, punishing myself with pleasure.
The orgasm broke my mind, my back, my resolve.
I jetted into her, again and again, never once stopping the brutal, desperate thrusts.
“Why can’t I stop fucking you?”
We both knew the answer to those questions.
And that was why we stayed silent.
That was why we kept fucking.
