by Lia Lee
He bends his groomed blond head to take my breasts in his mouth, his spiked hair brushing my collarbone and his tongue laving circles around my aching, stiffened nipples. I groan in lustful bliss, arching my neck toward the ceiling. His hands reach down and slide away the silky material of my panties to cup the globes of my ass, fingertips perilously close to my puckered entrance, and I shiver in wanton anticipation.
I fumble with his belt buckle, finally releasing it and yanking the zipper down. His dress slacks join my skirt in a puddle of discarded clothing on the seedy carpet. My hands fly to the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, feeling the heat of his magnificent, hard cock tight against my palms as I squeeze. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and my breast pops free of his hot, hungry mouth with a smacking sound.
The cool air in the room tightens my wet nipples even further, sweet pain rippling from their tips downward to my core. My private muscles spasm as my panties are shed the rest of the way, and I’m standing completely naked before him. I tug at the waistband of his boxers and free his member that’s stiff as a plank; it springs upright against his groin and my mouth waters at the sight.
I drop to my knees, dragging the boxers downward over the sculpted muscles of his thighs. I nuzzle the warm skin of his incredible cock that’s swollen and rippled with veins and begging for attention. I cradle it in my hands as I lick its glorious length.
Derric hisses in a breath. “Jesus, woman,” he grunts out. “I love how you get your fuck on.” I exhale a heated breath over his wet skin and feel him shiver. My tongue spirals around the firm, plum-like head, licking away the delicious jewel of precum at its tip. He gasps and fists his hands into my hair.
I close my lips around the shiny, engorged dome, lovingly encasing it within the soft warmth of my mouth. Christ, he’s big; my jaw slackens, and my tongue slides to the underside of his shaft to accommodate him. I press his thick cock to the roof of my mouth and begin to suck, drawing one powerful pull after another.
“Holy fuck,” he curses, my scalp stinging as his fists close tighter around the strands of my hair.
I want to consume him, leave my mark on him that will spoil him for any other woman, make him mine and no one else’s. I fuck him with my mouth, pulling back then plunging forward again. He moves my head in sync with each stroke in and out, his shaft glistening, wet with my saliva. Suddenly he pulls me away, yanking my head backward.
“Have mercy, love,” he gasps out and draws me up to stand. “Give me a chance to fuck you raw before I come apart.”
“Do it,” I say, my hands roving the expanse of his broad chest and my lips kissing his neck. “Fuck me into next week.”
He steps out of his boxers that are now down around his ankles and wraps his arms around my waist. He lifts me off the floor and moves toward the bed. The ancient bedframe squeaks and the broken-down mattress jiggles as we land on it together.
“I’ll fuck you into next year,” he says, trailing a line of kisses across my chest and down through the centerline between my breasts, moving lower and lower. I shudder in arousal when the tip of his tongue dips into the shallow crater of my navel. This is tickling on a whole new level. My breath comes fast as he works further downward, sliding his hands beneath my legs and lifting my knees up and apart.
God, I remember well his oral skill and my breath stills as he buries his face in the folds of my soaking wet pussy, nose and lips and tongue all vying for their portion of the meal. When his tongue swipes the length of my channel, and his lips close around my aching, begging bud, I can’t stop the tide of orgasm that swells deep in my core. It rises and crests over me in a black wave, blocking out everything else.
“Derric,” I wail as the glorious sensation rockets through every part of me, crippling me in blind ecstasy.
“That’s my girl, my goddess,” I hear him say as I drift helplessly in a tidal rush of bliss. He moves to settle his hips between my legs, and the hard tip of his cock breaches my quivering entrance. “Come hard for me baby,” he whispers.
His rigid thickness enters me, filling me, and with a thrust of his pelvis drives home to full penetration. I gasp as he pushes in to the hilt and lingers there a moment, leaving me perched on the summit of his maleness like a mountain peak, the sensation every bit as dizzying.
“Fuck, you’re so tight and beautiful,” he says, then begins to stroke in and out, delivering a healthy bump to my still-vibrating clit with each pass. God, I want him inside me forever. I cling to him like a cat, my nails digging into the skin of his muscled shoulders as I rock in sync with his powerful thrusts. My breathy moans echo in the sparse room, meshing with his baleful howls of satisfaction as our rhythm accelerates and he hurtles toward his own release.
I’m hot and sweaty and alive with joy as he climaxes, and his stellar body shudders inside my embrace. Tears of happiness prick my eyes as I hold him and feel the warmth of his hot seed rush inside me. Here we are again, caught in the throes of reckless desire, only now it doesn’t matter. Our unborn child already slumbers inside me, and I ache to tell him so.
His body stills and our tangled breathing slows as we lie together, spent and exhausted, on a faded, threadbare coverlet in a strange room. It’s ironic and laughable yet somehow perfect. It’s neutral ground, a level playing field. Here we’re not the playboy billionaire and the middle-class, bohemian artiste; here, we are equals.
Derric raises his body weight and rolls to his side. “Even better the second time,” he says, softly stroking my belly. If only he knew what our first time had already accomplished.
I close my eyes and enjoy the gentle circling of his palm overtop the tiny life he’s placed inside me. His hand moves upward to caress my breasts, and my nipples betray me as they begin to tingle and harden again.
“Oh my, are we game for a third time,” he says, a wicked smile creasing his face. “You’re incredible. You may have to give me a few minutes though.” He chuckles. He traces a fingertip over the inked goddess symbol tattooed on the skin above my heart and twists his neck a little to examine it more closely. “I noticed this the day I pulled you from the ocean. Now I know why you chose this symbol. You really are a goddess.”
“Careful. A girl could get used to hearing such things,” I say.
“Well, then get used to it.” He shifts to bring us face-to-face. “Because I intend to keep saying them.” My heart leaps as he brings his lips to mine and delivers the sweetest, tenderest, most soul-shaking kiss I can ever remember. It speaks silently of promise, of happiness, and of a future I’ve no right to imagine we might have together.
“Mila,” he whispers after breaking our tender kiss. “I’ve thought of you every day since you left Oz. I gave you my card so that you wouldn’t feel pushed into anything; you could contact me on your own terms. But when I didn’t hear from you...” He pauses and shakes his head. “I realized I’d been an arrogant ass. That maybe you felt I’d lied to you and were pissed off, or that I was just a holiday fling for you. And I kicked myself for not getting your number.”
I reach out and touch his face, feeling the traces of a sexy stubble on his tanned, clean-shaven jaw. He doesn’t know the real reason I didn’t call him.
“Don’t think that,” I say. “You never lied, you just didn’t tell the whole truth. It’s not every day I meet the heir to a media throne, you know. I was a bit shocked.”
“Sorry about that.” He laughs. “You’re not the kind I meet every day, either. I knew you were special, but now I know just how special. You’re intelligent and creative and independent. Not to mention dead sexy and gorgeous.”
And pregnant. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease.
His smile turns serious. “Listen, I know you don’t want to mix business with pleasure but... can’t we see each other while I’m here?” He glides his palm across my shoulder and down the length of my arm. “I don’t think I could work so close to you and not be able to touch you.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips
. “Or kiss you.”
Neither could I. How did I think it was even possible to accept this job and remain professional, aloof and detached? I’ve been fooling myself. Seeing him now, hearing his words, I realize I want him more than I’ve ever wanted any man. But there’s one more complication.
“Derric,” I say. “I want to see you, too. You’re right, it will be hard to work together and not... be together… because... there’s something else you need to know.”
He props himself up on one elbow, the delicious muscles of his upper body on full display. “What?” he asks, his full attention on me. He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Shit, here goes everything. Please God, let this make him happy.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen but, when I got home from Australia... I found out that...”
I pause for a long breath, and Derric squeezes my hand that he’s still holding, his intense blue gaze fixed on me. “Tell me.”
“I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant, you and me.”
Chapter Ten
Derric
Right Thing, Wrong Time
I knew what she was going to say before she said it. Still, the word hits me like an oncoming car in the wrong lane that I can’t steer clear of. A head-on collision.
Pregnant. Jesus. My first thought is, What girl in this day and age isn’t on some kind of contraception? My second thought is, You’re a brainless dick, Faris. Fuck, the old man called it. You can’t keep your pants zipped.
“Say something,” Mila urges, her eyes watery and pleading, waiting for some magic words from me that will make everything right.
I’ve got nothing.
A thousand thoughts cycle in and out of my brain, none of them helpful. Who’s to say I’m the father? It’s been two months since I’ve been with Mila. I like her, and I’m crazily attracted to her, but that doesn’t mean I know her, or how many other men she might have had since then.
If that had occurred to you earlier, asshole, you’d have worn a condom.
Christ, a fine time for my conscience to show up. Hell, she could have been pregnant before I met her for all I know. But my gut, and everything I learned about her today, tells me Mila’s not that kind of girl. So what kind of man are you? my late-to-the-party conscience asks.
I reach up and stroke my fingertips along her cheek, her jaw, her forehead. Dammit, she looks so sweet and shy and vulnerable lying here in my arms, her mass of curls spread out in a brunette fan across a rickety, unfamiliar bed, trusting me to say the right thing, the decent thing. Right now, I feel like I’ve never done one right or decent thing in my whole damn life. She deserves better than this; a shitty, fleabag hotel and a randy, skirt-chasing bloke like me to get her up the duff. I can’t turn my back on her. I won’t.
“Wow. That’s... brilliant, love, brilliant. You’re certain? I’d have been gentler this time around if I’d known.”
“I wouldn’t tell you so if I wasn’t,” she says, exhaling in a rush like she’d been holding her breath waiting for my reaction. “And I didn’t want you to be gentle.”
I grin at that. She plays a bit rough herself, and I love that about her, but I wonder if that’s going to be safe in the coming months. “You’re alright, yeah? Your doc says everything’s fine? How... far along?”
“She says about six weeks. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll be due sometime in November.”
Six weeks seems about right, but November? Steve will be expecting me back in Sydney well before then. The network will be on the air, and my work here will be done. What am I going to tell the old man then? When I said I wanted an excuse to stay in America, this situation wasn’t what I had in mind. Christ, it would prove him right, the old cocksucker, that I’m a compulsive fuck-up.
Wait a sec. I’m pretty sure getting pregnant isn’t what Mila had in mind either; maybe she’s telling me so that I’ll offer to provide some alternative. It’s a touchy subject, and I don’t want to go there, but we’re not living in medieval times. I certainly have the means to help her out.
“Mila... I don’t want to sound crass or anything but... is this what you want? To go through with it, I mean? If you need money to...”
Mila gives a light shake of her head, the sea of emotions roiling behind her pretty eyes drowning my unfinished sentence. “Derric. Don’t. Don’t you dare flash your money in front of me. It’s not about that, not at all. I’ve had weeks to think things through, and I want this baby—your baby—not your money. If you were the most destitute man on Earth, I’d still want to have this baby. I’d want you. I can understand if you want no part of it...”
“Shh,” I whisper, putting a finger to her lips that are still rosy and plump from kissing. If I didn’t know what kind of man I was before, I’m choosing the one I want to be now. “Stop. I do want to be part of it... I am part of it... and I’ll be here for you, for both of you, whatever you decide. I promise.”
Don’t start promising what you can’t deliver, Faris.
Mila smiles, and at least I know I’ve said the right things; whether I can do the right things remains to be seen. But I’m going to try. She tilts her head and kisses me, a kiss filled with passion, the kind of passion that makes my privates twitch to inconvenient life again. Damn, I could fuck this beautiful goddess all day long, but is it safe to go again? Do we have time? We’ve only got the room for two hours, and we both have work to return to.
“So, who knows about this besides you and me?” I ask as she unlocks me from her kiss.
“Claire,” she answers. “And my doctor, of course.”
“What about your parents? Brothers or sisters?”
I feel her chest expand and contract against me as she takes a deep breath in and out before answering. “No. I’m an only child. And both my parents are gone now. I miss them. I wish they could have lived to see their grandchild.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But that means we have some things in common. My mum died of cancer a long time ago. I have no siblings either. Yeah, she’d have been right chuffed to have a grandchild, too.”
“I wish there were no such things as cancers or tumors.” She sighs. “But you have your dad, right? I saw him on TV—you were sitting next to him at a press conference. You must be glad to still have him, at least. I would be. And it must be great to work together.”
“Huh.” I snort. I’m not about to spew forth all the nasty baggage my father and I carry around. Mila doesn’t need to hear all that, she’s got enough on her plate, and I’ve already put a huge helping on it as it is.
“Yeah, I suppose I should consider myself lucky,” I concede.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t very lucky for you, was I?”
“Hey.” I slip an arm around her neck to reassure her. “We’re in this together. No apologies, remember? We’re both responsible, and we’ll deal with it together. No worries.”
“Derric, does this change your decision to hire Church & Strait? I wouldn’t blame you if it did. And Claire doesn’t know about it yet, so if you want to reconsider...”
“Absolutely not,” I reply firmly. “In fact, I’d better get you back to your office so you can clear the decks for all the work ROO-TV is going to be sending you.” I glance around at the dingy, decrepit room. “Let’s get out of here before the carpet leaves a stain on our clothes.”
Mila laughs, and we get dressed, leaving the disreputable premises behind with sheepish grins on our faces.
After escorting her to her office, I take a walk before heading back to my rental; the never-ending chaos of cars and people forming the perfect backdrop for my equally chaotic thoughts.
For all my pragmatic words, I haven’t quite wrapped my head around the idea of becoming a father. I’m not even close to ready. I harbor no desire to start a family—especially given the kind of “family” I’d been born into, if you could even call it that. A domineering, emotionally crippled patriarch who treated his wife and son like machinery parts; human cogs in his wheel of capitalist ambi
tion.
I truly think my mother died of a broken heart. Her cancer was simply incidental, and deep down, I blame him for it. He robbed us both of the happy family experience we’re all led to believe we deserve. In all my years, did I ever hear an “I love you” or “I’m proud of you, son”? Never. Not once.
Family. It’s a bogus institution, responsible for just as many wars as politics and religion. Yet here I am, perpetuating the cycle, scattering my seed to the wind like so many dandelions, impregnating an innocent woman I hardly know in my thoughtless wake. I do like her. But to start a family with almost a complete stranger? That’s got to be an eleven on the Derric Faris reckless scale of one to ten.
The timing couldn’t be worse—in the middle of the biggest career turning point of my life, with Steve watching my neck from afar like a human vulture, waiting for me to fail. Maybe my biggest fear is that I’ll turn out just like him; incapable of nurturing or expressing a single loving emotion. On the other hand, I could hardly do worse. And something in me wants to prove it; be the father he never was, to best him at this one thing, the most important thing.
I’ve been given a chance, which is more than some blokes ever get. I haven’t made it this far in life without good instincts, and my instincts draw me to Mila. She’s beautiful and strong and determined. She’s someone I can count on, and I want to be the same for her. For the first time, I have someone counting on me that doesn’t think they’re the bloody King, the Pope and the Sheriff all rolled into one and pass judgment on me at every opportunity.
And it feels damn good.
Chapter Eleven
Mila
True Colors
“So, you’re seeing him again tonight,” Claire says, not exactly as a question. “What’s on the agenda this time, sex before dinner, or after?”
