by Hazel Parker
My vision was tunneling. My mind was scrambling. I thought this was it. But Scott did one more thing.
He changed the angle of his thrust, touching my clit directly. Then he rubbed his cock against it, over and over and over.
I exploded. I sobbed. I fell apart as the fire burst and burned me, vicious and intense and unlike any other. It was like diving into a pool of goodness and never coming out. I soared through it, flying through the bliss that I was feeling. Scott kept kissing me, holding on to me and allowing me to experience it completely. Fully.
When I was finally down from my high, I realized he was still moving inside me, trying to find his own release.
His movements increased again, if that was even possible. Wanting to help him out, I sucked on his neck before kissing him hard, seeking out his tongue and sucking on it repeatedly. Our bodies shook with the force of his thrusts, up until I felt him still again.
Scott rasped out my name.
Then his body was bucking with the force of his own climax, and I held on to him as his orgasm had him trembling. I was on the pill, and I didn’t regret it. Him spurting inside me was the most erotic thing ever, followed by the way those sexy sounds came out of his mouth.
I kissed him again and swallowed his sounds, reveling in this moment. Sure, it may be a one-time thing.
But it was one I was never going to forget.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SCOTT
It didn’t just happen one time.
At first, we were so sure it would, parting ways as soon as we’d finished having sex for the day—or, to be more accurate, as soon as I took her virginity. Perhaps it was a great coincidence that Mallory and her boyfriend arrived a few minutes after we were done, still lying in bed and shaken to the core.
Or maybe I was the only one shaken to the core.
That had to be the most intense sex of my life. It surprised me—no, it shocked me. I’d fucked women fast, the adrenaline rush giving it the intensity it needed. I’d done it in public places where the thrill of getting caught only heightened the sensation. I’d done it in private, all night long, taking my time to build the pleasure so that we’d be falling apart by the time we were done. But none of those could compare to how heady and sensual everything had felt with Julie.
It was bizarre. It was confusing. I realized that what had started out as fucking had turned into something else, and I didn’t want to define what it was at all. But whatever it was, it didn’t go away—no, not even when I went home. Aall I could think about was how we’d touched and pleasured each other. Not when the next day, it was still all I could think about—particularly how her wet mouth took me in so deep and how tight she was around me.
Not when, a few days after, I was still bombarded with the images whenever I looked at her.
Shit. This was so wrong. I tried to rationalize it—and in doing so, I came up with a conclusion: that maybe I needed to sleep with her one more time to get her out of my system. I wasn’t sure how that conclusion could be explained when it completely ruled out the one-night-stand bargain we had, but I had to give it a shot—and so I approached her right after the racing practice, telling her I needed to speak to her in private.
We ended up in one of the empty towers, in one of the empty closets.
And what had started as me trying to explain ended up with me seducing her out of her pants and lifting her up on the abandoned desk, where I fucked her until she was screaming out my name. It was a good thing the place was already empty because I didn’t think anyone who was there would have missed the sounds of pleasure we were unable to stop from making.
That was the last time. Two times I slept with Julie.
Two times I still wanted more.
It irritated me. But at the same time, I didn’t want to go for a third, because that would cross the line from being casual to her turning into my actual lover, which I wasn’t ready for. She was great and all and she was still my friend. But she was also still my friend’s daughter. And I couldn’t forget that.
*****
“What’s up with you lately?”
Jay’s question penetrated my thoughts, and I looked up from what I was reading on the office couch. He was sitting on his desk and going over the books again—well, he was. Now he was watching me like a hawk, as if that would ferret out answers.
As casually as I could, I turned the next page. “Nothing.”
In response, Jay raised a brow. I should have known it wouldn’t work.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he commented.
“I’m reading,” I shot back.
“You were brooding.”
Was I?
“Wasn’t,” I replied.
“Fine. You were moping.”
Hell, no.
“I wasn’t.”
He kept watching me. I looked back. Finally, he looked back at the books and started scribbling again. I turned back to my book, though for the life of me, I couldn’t really understand what I was reading.
“Money problems?” Jay asked.
I scoffed.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. You don’t exactly have monetary problems, McCall.”
“Hmm.”
“Women problems?”
I stayed silent.
Maybe I shouldn’t have, as Jay stopped scribbling again. I could feel those eyes on me.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” he finally murmured.
“I don’t. Have. Any. Problems.”
“Hmmmm.”
I looked up and glared at him for the annoying sound. Jay’s eyes twinkled, reminding me of the humorous guy beneath the aloof façade. He then turned back to his work and didn’t say anything else, but it was too late.
Suddenly my so-called “woman problem” was all I could think about.
Particularly, she was all I could think about.
For two straight weeks now.
*****
When reading didn’t work, and I didn’t feel like doing practice in the afternoon, I called our scheduled one off. Then I was driving to her apartment before I even knew where I was going, like it was some kind of goddamn beacon that I couldn’t ignore. A few knocks later and Mallory opened the door, gaping at me and looking slightly mesmerized before snapping out of it and letting me in. I could see a guy on a chair through the kitchen—her fiancé, I presumed—but there were no sounds at all, especially on the second floor where the bedrooms were.
“She’s sick,” Mallory said before I could ask. “I don’t think you want to see her right now.”
I frowned at her. “Flu?”
She bit her lip, then shot the upstairs area a worried glance.
“Maybe,” she said uncertainly.
I narrowed my eyes. There was something she was hiding here, though I couldn’t figure out what. Did Julie not want to see me?
Did she have someone up there with her?
Something unpleasant coursed through me at the thought. I gave Mallory the same staredown I’d given Julie before—and in a few seconds, she was already stepping away from subtly blocking the stairs and reluctantly giving me way. I went up without a word, knocking on Julie’s door and hearing her faint voice telling me to come in.
The sight that greeted me when I did was surprising.
Her room was a mess, a direct contrast to how neat it was when I visited there twice before. Clothes were strewn on the floor just near the laundry basket, as if she couldn’t be bothered to get them in. Her garbage bin was full of tissues, and her bed was in disarray.
In the middle of the bed was Julie, wrapped up in a long sweater and looking miserable.
“Oh, baby,” I couldn’t help saying. Then I was striding towards her and sitting on the bed. I placed my palm on her forehead, relieved to find she wasn’t hot. But her eyes were sunken, her lips were dry, and her cheeks were an unhealthy pale pallor.
“Go away,” she muttered. “I look terrible.”
I shook my head. “If you honestly think that
grumpy attitude is still gonna faze me…”
In response, Julie glared. But she didn’t ask me to leave anymore. I looked her over and determined that she was sniffling, but there was no cough or anything like that.
Decided, I dialed a number on my mobile.
“Scott?”
“Jay, can you ask Anton to cook me up some sick food and have it delivered?” I gave him an address.
“What? Who’s sick?”
“It’s a long story. Quickly please; it will be a favor.”
There was silence on the other line, and I thought that was disapproval I was sensing. But instead, Jay chuckled.
“I knew it,” he said, though he didn’t elaborate. “Fine. Anton will have it there in half an hour.”
I hung up and got back to Julie, who was listening to the whole exchange. She tried shaking her head, but all that did was make her dizzy.
“My dad’s going to be visiting tomorrow,” she moaned. “Of all the worst luck in the world.”
“You’ll be fine by tomorrow,” I assured.
“No,” she said shortly. “This has been going on for a few days now.”
“Sweetheart,” I said. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Dizzy.”
“What else?”
“Temperamental. Dizzy. Miserable. Dizzy. I want to yell at everybody.”
“You can yell at me all you want,” I offered.
“It will make me feel better,” she added.
I smiled warmly. “Go right ahead.”
“You’re an arrogant ass, and I hate you.”
“Oh, come on now, we both know that’s not true. You can’t resist me and my charms. And my co—”
“I can totally resist your cock,” she interrupted, her cheeks turning pink before going back to its paleness.
I smirked. “Give me ten seconds, and you’ll be flat on the bed and begging to come.”
Her eyes flared, then darkened. I supposed mine weren’t any better. My heart sped up, and my cock was stirring inside my pants, rapidly hardening further.
Then Julie’s face crumpled, and she was yanking the blankets off her. Before I could ask what happened, she was running for the toilet and slamming the door, and inside I could hear her retching her guts out.
My erection deflated right away, and my arousal changed to worry. Jesus, what had gotten into her? I tried to scan my mind but came up blank. I’d never really been sick, so I didn’t have much to go by.
Anton delivered ten minutes later, and I noted that Mallory and her guy were gone. I brought the packages back upstairs, amused to note that Jay had added a box of chocolates in. The bastard.
Julie was back in bed with a change of clothes when I returned. She refused the food, but I was stern, and we argued for a little bit before she finally, reluctantly took a sip of the chicken soup—then another, then more, and I did an inward victory dance. No one could resist Anton’s food, not even someone as sick as her. But she did stay away from the chocolates, claiming it only made her sicker.
She vomited twice more, then crawled back into bed and fell fast asleep. I watched her sleeping form for a few minutes before finally placing the blanket over her, then silently making my way out.
Maybe some research would get me to help her out better.
*****
It was when I was reading up on the symptoms that things clicked into place.
The vomiting. The nausea. The sudden aversion to foods one usually liked.
My body was numb, and so was my mind. But I visited Julie that evening again, holding up an item that she needed to use as soon as possible. Like right now.
And when she opened the door to her bedroom, her face told me that she already knew what I wanted. She took the item and quietly went to the bathroom, and I sat on her rug, feeling that sitting on her bed at a time like this was wrong.
Five minutes turned into ten. After almost twenty minutes, I stood back up and knocked.
“Moping in there isn’t going to solve your problems, Julie,” I goaded.
The sink ran, and she finally opened the door. She looked like she’d been crying as she got back to bed and handed me back the item. I looked at her back, the worry inside me increasing at seeing her in such a weak state. Then I looked down, and worry turned to shock.
The pregnancy test reflected two bold red lines.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JULIE
My father didn’t take it well.
The first thing he demanded to know was who the bastard was who did this to me, and I had to reason out with him that acting out like this, with his temper up in flames, was just going to cause more trouble than it was going to solve. Then, when he was no longer yelling out, I sat him down and explained to him that this was my decision as much as the guy’s, so there was no need to blame anyone.
Actually, if I was going to be honest, it was more me. After all, I was the one who goaded Scott into sleeping with me. But too late to argue that point now.
We were having dinner outside when I did tell my dad—a private dinner on a rooftop, thank goodness, because his loud voice would have had everyone staring in no time had we been in a more public place. The apartment was a no-no because I just wasn’t ready to tell Mallory yet; not when I wasn’t even ready to accept it myself.
“If you’re mad at me, I completely understand,” I told my dad over dessert. Jack Davis had his brows furrowed down at his plated lava cake, and he looked like he was ready to murder someone. My dad was normally a very jovial person, so this was worrying.
“I’m not mad,” he snapped out. “But this wasn’t what I envisioned for my only daughter.”
I bit my lip and looked down on my own crème brulee, trying to fight back my tears. Normally I’d have been all over that dessert, but since the pregnancy, I just wasn’t in the mood for anything sweet.
And my life was a mess.
And it was getting even messier.
“I know,” I said quietly. “This wasn’t what I envisioned for myself, either. But the kid’s staying.”
“Who’s the goddamn father?” he growled.
“I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.”
“No, you’re not.”
We argued. We talked it over. I kept adamant that I wasn’t going to tell him tonight, and the dinner ended on a slightly sour note. But he did drive me home, and he did give me a hug before I slid out of his car. It was short, but it would do. For now.
“Aren’t you going to come in, dad?”
He shook his head. “I need to clear my head. Give me time to take it all in.”
Disappointed, I could only nod my head and watch him drive away.
It hurt. It hurt to know that he wasn’t supportive, but maybe I should have expected that. Still, I couldn’t stand to see how much I’d failed him, and how I could see how much it was bothering him.
Most of all, I couldn’t stand the disappointment I saw in his eyes.
But I couldn’t tell him yet, because…well. Oh, God.
How were you supposed to tell your father that one of his closest friends had gotten you pregnant?
And how were you going to make amends over the fact that it was all your own fault, for being an idiot when it came to taking pills?
*****
I didn’t see my father much for the week after his arrival, and it was just as well because the pit crew needed to be around for Scott’s second major race for the year. Being busy kept me preoccupied, and I was relieved that the morning sickness didn’t last long. I was back on track when I got to the garage, with everyone happy to see me and pumped up for the day.
I also purposely avoided Scott, who—thankfully—wasn’t there yet. I think he may have also been avoiding me after I told him that day we found out that I needed time alone to think and didn’t want him there.
“Hey, there.”
Surprise filled my face as I eyed Doug, who was suddenly standing in front of
me. Oh, God. In all the chaos that had happened, I’d completely forgotten about him.
“I haven’t seen you around,” he commented, studying me. I studied him back, further surprised when I realized that whatever tingles or sparks I’d been feeling whenever he was around were gone. Just like that. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or dismayed because we didn’t even get a chance.
And we were never going to get that chance.
It was time to accept it.
“I was sick,” I finally replied, giving him a small smile. “But I’m better now.”
His brows furrowed worriedly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Want to postpone our date this Saturday? I don’t mind.”
Again—Oh, God. I’d forgotten we’d made plans already.
I could have made any excuse I wanted so as not to offend him. But I didn’t want to completely lie to the guy, not when he’d been nothing but sincere to me. I took a deep breath. Then I told him what I could.
“I don’t think we should be doing any dates for now, Doug.”
“…oh?”
I nodded. “I’m just…there are things in my life that need prioritizing, and I don’t think dating will help. We can be friends.”
I didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes. But he didn’t force the issue, instead nodding his head and letting out a smile. “Of course. I really like you, but thank you for not leading me on or anything like that.”
What a sweetheart. A twinge of regret hit me, but nothing significant. I smiled again and asked how he was feeling about the race. Doug’s eyes lit up.
“Psyched,” he said. “Super psyched and ready to win. It’s going to be tough, but…” His words trailed off, and his eyes widened. I puzzled over it for a few seconds, then froze when I turned around and saw who he was looking at.
He wasn’t the only awed one as Jack Davis walked inside the garage, headed straight for me. He didn’t try to talk to anyone, no. His eyes were all on me, his stride purposeful and his expression intense.
Then his gaze shifted to Doug, and I realized in alarm exactly what was on his mind.
