by Anna Kristyn
I was going to be sick, and it was too early in the pregnancy to be morning sickness.
These are going to be nine long months...
“Yes,” Damian said tersely.
“Wow, I thought I recognized you!” She laughed, sounding like she had just struck a gold mine. She glanced back at her friends, and then turned back to us.
“Is there something you need? I’m busy right now,” he said.
He’s annoyed by her?
Both Jenna and I were shocked by his tone. I was sure it was rare that a guy ever spoke to her like that.
That was when Jenna realized I was also there.
Recognition and then confusion flashed across her face.
“Oh, Khloe, right?” She asked.
I hated that she remembered my name. I was sure she enjoyed telling her friends the story about my interview and awkward departure.
“Another interview?” She asked, glancing between the two of us.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Damian said immediately.
Okay, now I am definitely going to be sick.
“Oh, well then,” Jenna stammered.
Damian just gave a thin-lipped smile, one that practically screamed “go away.”
Jenna did just that, and I stared at him, in awe.
“Are you okay?” He asked again, his voice kind.
“Yeah, I think so.”
8
I practically skipped back to the apartment after running into Damian. I was determined that night to tell him about the pregnancy, and I was going to make a dinner that would knock his metaphorical socks off.
Even if he was just saying that we were a couple to piss of Jenna, he didn’t have to do that.
I had so many questions for him, but I was going to focus on the positives.
When I heard the elevator door open, I turned to greet Damian with a demure smile and cleavage for days.
I had picked a red dress that pushed up my breasts, and a bra that was definitely too small for my large chest. But that just made them look even more ample.
Obviously Damian noticed, because he stopped in his tracks and stared at me for a solid ten seconds.
When he moved again, it was like lightning, kissing me and touching me all over. I moaned into his mouth, his hand sliding under my dress.
“What is all this for?” He asked, breaking the kisses for only a moment, as if I was his oxygen.
“I’m pregnant,” I breathed.
He pulled away, his eyes big and his smile bigger.
With his strong arms he lifted me on the counter, our disparate heights made even. He continued to kiss me until my head spun, then he pulled away to suck my neck, and trailed kisses along the curvature of my breasts.
Then he went lower.
My head fell back as his hands pushed up my dress, revealing myself to him. When he noticed the lack of underwear, he gave me a sly grin.
All I could do was pant as his lips and tongue descended on my pussy, teasing and tasting me.
“The-the dinner will get cold—” I whimpered, unsure of what this meant for us. Why was he doing this? Was this a celebratory thing?
Or could it possibly be that he was starting to feel the same way?
“You are all I want for dinner,” he replied. His voice was husky and dark, and when he sucked on my clit my entire thought process went offline. I was riding completely on the sensations. When I came I threaded my hand through his hair and screamed, unable to hold back any longer, my walls falling down.
* * *
When we finally did get around to dinner, I knew I needed to ask some questions. We had talked so much over the past few weeks, but some of the trickier subjects still evaded us.
Now that this felt real, with a positive pregnancy test and all, I felt more pressure to know.
“So, why me?” I asked, with no forewarning. It seemed to catch Damian off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it seems like you could pretty much have your pick of women. You said you hadn’t found one to be deserving of being a mother to your child,” I clarified.
Damian nodded.
“Well, I hadn’t,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.
Confusion settled in.
“I have had girls throwing themselves at me for as long as I can remember. Always saying yes, never wanting to appear like they had any hard opinions or morals,” he said. “And then I saw you. You didn’t seem to care about me at all. I was normal to you. You are so beautiful, and confident, and you flipped me off in public.”
I chewed my lip, trying to hold back a smile.
“I wanted a mother for my child that would be strong, encouraging, smart, and tough. This world is so hard to live in, especially if you don’t have parents that teach you how to fight for things. I didn’t want a trophy wife. I wanted a partner, and I never thought I would find that.”
He’s still using past tense…
“But I found you,” his voice was quiet but confident. The words reverberated through me.
“Khloe, we are still so new at this, things are so early, but I meant it today when I said you are my girlfriend. And I hope one day we will be more.”
My heart felt like it was going to break through my ribcage.
Why did I wear such a tight bra?
“I do too, Damian.”
We made love, again that evening. And continued to do so after ultrasound appointments, doctor’s visits, and nursery shopping.
And when Ryan and Rachel Maxwell were born eight-and-a-half months later, we became the family that we had always dreamed of.
9
“Ryan, where are your shoes?” I asked. My dark-haired son looked up at me with his father’s eyes.
“I don’t know, I think Rachel hid them,” he grumbled. I turned to see Rachel duck away down the hallway.
“Rachel, your brother has a little-league game today. It’s not the time for pranking!” I called after her.
The elevator door dinged.
“Daddy!” Rachel cried excitedly.
“Hello, baby girl,” Damian’s voice drifted through the apartment.
“Tell your baby girl to give Ryan his shoes back,” I said. Damian chuckled, and I heard his voice, low and stern, telling Rachel to do just that.
She walked in the room, dejected, and handed her brother his shoes.
“Thank you, Rachel,” I said. “Do you want to wear that new dress we got the other day to the game?”
“Yeah!” She squealed, hurrying off to her own bedroom.
As I helped Ryan put on his shoes, Damian dipped down to kiss me on the head.
“Fun day?” He asked.
“Always,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “I’m glad you’ll be at the game.” I said, thankful that his position at the company afforded him the opportunities to be with his family. I was also thankful that my new position as a managing director at the Young, Westwood and Maddisen Modeling Agency was flexible as well.
I stood and kissed him lightly.
“Well I’m glad we get to take our anniversary trip next weekend to St. Croix” He countered.
I grinned.
“I bet you are,” I replied. I had several new outfits raring to go.
“But most importantly, I’m glad you’ll be with me forever,” he murmured, so low that my core clenched.
“Me too.”
THE END
