by Ana Sparks
“I remembered you like roses, so I thought…”
Slowly turning on my heel, I gaze at Jay in awe. “How?”
“In Macau. There was a bouquet of them and you stopped to touch them.” He smiles. “More than once, actually. You seemed to enjoy them so much.”
Jay tucks some hair behind my ear. I’m still in shock, unable to believe that someone has done something so nice for me.
“Why?” I find myself saying.
There was no need for him to do this. We’re together, and there’s a baby on the way. I don’t need any big, extravagant acts to know that Jay cares for me.
He looks deep into my eyes. “I told you I’ve never felt at home anywhere, right?”
I nod. “Maybe in different words, but yeah. I understand that.”
“Well, I feel at home with you. You’re the only person I’ve ever met that I really want to stay with. You and the baby…You’re it for me. You’re what I need. Maybe this goes without saying, but I want to move in together. I want to find a place and make it ours, somewhere where we can raise our child. I love you, Lauren.”
At his words, my chest fills with happiness. I have to be floating, because I swear there’s no longer a floor under my feet.
“I love you, too,” I gasp.
Joy breaks across Jay’s face as he pulls me in for a hug. His scent mixes with that of the roses, and I inhale deep, taking in as much of the sweet air as I can.
Gently, but with real strength, Jay picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. Laying me in the middle of the comforter, he slowly pulls off the shorts and T-shirt he brought me to wear at the hospital. I watch him the whole time, unable to take my eyes off of his beautiful face.
Climbing onto the bed to straddle me, he lightly kisses down my neck and over my breasts. His lips press gently against my stomach as he undoes my bra, then tugs off my panties. Spreading my legs, he drops lower and rests his face between my thighs.
Soft kisses send flutters of warmth through me. I twist Jay’s hair through my fingers and arch my back, eager to meet the wet softness of his tongue. He laps harder at me, sucking at my pussy, and pleasure catapults through me.
After a few minutes, right before I’m about to climax, Jay quickly stands up, stripping himself of his shirt and pants. His clothes fall into a heap and he joins me naked on the bed. Our arms tight around each other, we roll across the mattress, giddy to be alive and together.
Jay ends up on top of me again, his face inches from mine.
“I’ve thought of you every moment we’ve been apart,” he says, the back of his hand running along my face.
This simple sentence makes me melt. “Me, too,” I whisper. “You’ve been the only thing on my mind.”
He grins, and for a moment, it seems like he’s going to say more, but then he just looks at me. I understand it. Everything has already been said. Jay and I love each other. We’re together. There’s a baby on the way. With things unable to get any better than this, there’s nothing left to do but just stare at each other and relish in our happiness.
His eyes still on mine, Jay shifts his weight forward. The tip of his hard cock presses into me, and my body responds by opening up right away. My muscles stretch, eager to accept him, ready to embrace him as mine.
Slipping his arms under my back, Jay gently pulses into me. I stare back into his eyes, my chest flooding with more emotion than I would have believed one person can handle.
This is really happening.
I can’t take just looking at him any longer. Lifting my face, I push my lips onto his. He kisses me with passion, his tongue gently massaging mine. We push our bodies closer, eager to get every inch of skin we have pressed together.
As Jay pulls me closer to him, we roll again and end up laying on our sides. We writhe together, pulsing and kissing, sweating and coming undone. His labored breathing against my lips tells me he’s getting close. Just knowing this makes my own pleasure increase. I’m exploding, flying, taking Jay along with me.
For the longest time, we stay where we are—legs and arms tangled together, cheeks pressed close. Jay kisses my forehead and I listen to the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windowpanes.
Eventually, he pulls away, props his head onto his hand, and looks down at me.
“You’re glowing.”
All I can do is laugh.
“You are!” Jay insists.
I roll onto my back and grin up at him. “That’s because you’re here.”
He smirks and runs his fingers over my stomach. I close my eyes in happiness.
“Where are we going to live?” he asks.
I open my eyes again. “I don’t know.” I frown. “I haven’t thought about that.”
“Detroit is out.”
“If you say so.”
“New York?”
“All three of us could just move in with my parents,” I joke.
“Have you told them?”
I nod and take his hand. “Yeah. They were surprisingly supportive.”
“They sound like good people. Everyone has their differences. Even if they don’t agree with you on everything, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
I nod slowly. “I’m starting to see that…Thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Remember when we talked in Macau and you told me all about your life growing up? It really helped me to stop being so angry at them.”
“Good,” he says, although he’s running his fingers over my stomach again, and seems more involved in that than he is in our conversation.
“You’ve changed me,” I say seriously.
Jay stops and looks me in the eye. “We’ve changed each other.”
“Hopefully for the better,” I tease.
Jay kisses my belly, where our baby is growing, and looks up at me. “Definitely for the better.”
Epilogue
Lauren
Eight Months Later
“The amount of light in here is so refreshing,” Mom murmurs as she looks around the living room. “You know, the more sun you get, the happier you’ll be, and the better you’ll sleep.”
I set the salad bowl on the table and smile over at Jay, who’s bringing the lasagna to the table. We’ve been in this apartment for over half a year, but Mom and Dad have only been able to drop by a few times. Brooklyn, as they like to remind us, isn’t exactly right around the corner from them.
Any time they say something like this, my blood boils, and I start to get angry. But then, I inevitably hit the pause button, and remind myself of what Jay taught me: my parents aren’t perfect. I’m not perfect. But we love each other, and that’s what counts.
“Did you look into that new preschool around the corner yet?” Dad asks.
Jay and I glance at each other. Dad’s been forwarding us emails full of school information for weeks.
“It’s kind of early,” I say, sitting down and touching my big belly. “Considering the baby hasn’t even been born, yet.”
“Your due date is next week,” Mom reminds me, like that’s necessary.
Dad purposefully points his fork in my direction. “It’s not too early to look at preschools in New York. Not these days. The best preschools fill up years ahead of time. You have to stay ahead of the game if you want your child to get a good education.”
I nod agreeably, since that’s the best thing I can think of to do.
Mom waves her hand through the air. “We can talk about school another time. That little baby is going to be here soon, and that’s what we need to be focusing on. Lauren, do you have a schedule set up yet?”
I exchange yet another look with Jay. “Um…”
Jay explains for me. “I’m done with gambling for a few years at least, so the baby will be with me while Lauren’s at her studio in the afternoon.”
I smile at Jay. My parents have never said much about his career, though I know they don’t absolutely understand it. I know they’ll be pleased at his decisi
on to slow down and be around for the baby, and with his prize money savings combined with my own earnings, we’ll have enough to live off for a long time.
Mom nods, seemingly satisfied with Jay’s answer. “Your father and I have been thinking… We’ve both been working a lot lately, and we don’t want to miss any time with the baby.”
“So I’m taking weekends off,” Dad announces. “Permanently.”
“And I’m not going into the office on Fridays anymore,” Mom beams.
I stare at my parents in amazement. It might be fairly standard for most people to announce that they are going to begin observing weekends, but the two people who raised me are workaholics. I have as many memories of being little and playing with toys at my mom’s office as I do at home. Even after dinner, if she had something she needed to take care of at work, she’d just take me over there.
I don’t know if my Mom and Dad will ever even formally retire, so this little bit of news is big.
“That’s great,” Jay says. “You deserve some time off.”
I feel the grin spreading across my face. “Yeah,” I agree. “That’s great. And the baby will love having you around.”
We dig into lunch, the talk turning to the new community garden around the corner, what the best Christmas destination with a baby will be, and what we’re going to wear to Willow’s very first movie showing—which may be a small indie film, but still includes a VIP-only pre-release viewing for friends and family.
The second the front door closes behind my parents, I turn to Jay. “Can you believe that? My parents, taking some time off of work.”
He walks over and pulls me close to him—or as close as the giant baby bump between us will allow me to get.
“I guess miracles really do happen.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m going to go finish up that wall in the nursery.”
“I’ll help.”
He gives me a concerned look. “You need to rest.”
“Jay. All I’ve been doing is resting.”
“You call fielding phone calls and meetings all day resting?”
“What can I say? I am my parents’ daughter.”
He takes my hand. “Okay, you can come with, but no lifting anything.”
“I’m sorry; do paintbrushes suddenly weigh forty pounds?”
He swats me lightly on the butt as we head down the hall.
The apartment that we found the very week we arrived back in New York is my dream home. There’s no other way to describe it. Being on the ground floor, it has its own backyard full of lush, green grass. The day we moved in, I strung white lights around the fence and in the branches of the little tree that grows back there. Now, when the sun sets, the yard shines like something out of a fairy tale.
We move down the hallway, passing our bedroom and my studio, the walls of which are covered with post-it notes and sketches. Getting things running for my business was easier than I expected it to be, especially with my parents finally on my side. With their combined business advice and introductions to people who knew people in the illustrating and publishing business, emails and phone calls just started flying at me.
I’ve already illustrated three children’s books. Jay was so proud that he framed the covers and hung them in the living room.
At the very end of the hall sits the nursery, the spot that will soon belong to our son or daughter. The crib is assembled and full of stacks of baby clothes and diapers, but other than that, the space is pretty bare. We’ve held off on filling it with furniture, since the walls aren’t even fully painted yet.
Jay cracks a window and a paint can while I survey the outline I drew on the wall weeks ago. It’s a map of the world, with the names of the places we want to visit written out. Someday, when the baby is old enough, we’ll travel to all of those countries and cities as a family. We’ll learn new languages, taste new foods, glide down rivers, and hike through jungles—and I’ll sketch it all out in a book.
Until then, we’ll enjoy the mural as we feed and rock our little one to sleep every night.
“Alaska needs a stronger outline,” I tell Jay as he climbs onto the step stool.
“Why does it have to be all the way up here?” he complains as he stretches to reach it.
I laugh. “Hey, I didn’t create the world. I just drew it.”
“I need that angled paintbrush.”
“I’ll get it.”
I bend down to grab the roll of brushes, but a sharp pain in my torso stops me. I straighten up and touch my belly.
“Lauren?” Jay is staring at me, his face worried.
“I’m fine. I just bent down wrong.” I laugh. “Believe it or not, sometimes I actually forget that I’m pregnant.”
I go to hand him the right brush, and another sensation washes over me. This time, it’s a tightening one, happening at the bottom of my belly. I stop moving and wait for it to happen again.
“Lauren,” Jay says, more sternly this time. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I lick my lips, joy and fear rocketing through me at the same time as the pain.
“I think…I think I just went into labor.”
Jay goes white. “Are you sure?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I mean, the contractions are supposed to be pretty light at first. Like, you hardly feel them.”
Just as I’m finishing talking, what’s undeniably a contraction washes over me. It’s twice as strong as the last.
“Whoa.” I clutch my belly.
Jay gets off the step stool and walks to me. “Okay. This is happening. Let’s get your bag and get to the hospital.”
I wave him off. “No. It’s too early. Remember? First labors can take twelve hours or more. There’s no point in going to the hospital until I’m halfway along.”
“I just really think we should—”
I interrupt him with a yelp. It’s yet another contraction, this one even stronger.
My heart rate speeds up. “How long was that between those two?” I demand.
Jay goes wide-eyed. “I don’t know. Uh, a minute? Maybe less.”
Less than a minute. No way.
Contractions are supposed to start at fifteen to twenty minutes apart. It’s not until they’re five minutes apart that you’re supposed to head to the hospital. That’s what all of the pregnancy books say. One minute apart? That doesn’t make sense.
Yet another contraction blasts through me. This time, it’s a long one.
“Okay,” I harshly exhale. “We have to go to the hospital. Now.”
I’ve never seen a person move so fast in my life. Jay has me and my bag down to the curb before the next contraction comes.
The next two hours are a blur, full of a terrified cab driver, scurrying nurses, and a baby that’s coming way, way too fast. Through it all, Jay is calm, always by my side. He holds my hand and soothes me, never straying more than a few inches away.
And then, suddenly, there’s a baby in the room.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor announces, holding a tiny little red-faced person in the air.
A girl! Willow is never going to let me forget she was right about this.
The baby squeals and I look at Jay. His eyes are full of tears.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispers.
“Just a little over two hours,” the doctor adds with a smile. “That’s really rare. You better spend your last month sleeping at the hospital for your second baby.”
We stare in amazement as they clean her up, measure her, and take her weight. Finally, she’s in my arms. Her blue eyes are open and looking up at me.
“Hi, little one” I angle her up so she can get a look at Jay. “That’s your daddy.”
Jay puts a finger against her palm and she makes a little fist around it.
“Do you have a name for her?” one of the nurses asks.
Jay and I look at each other.
“Rose,” we whisper at the same time.
Just murmuring the word makes me remember all the b
est roses I’ve encountered in my life: the roses in Macau on the night Jay and I first met, the roses filling the hotel room the day Jay told me he loved me, and, now, the sweetest and best Rose in the world—the one in my arms.
Looking down at our newborn daughter, I can see how everything that’s happened in the last year has brought us to this perfect place. Jay and I were once adrift, floating through the world as two separate beings.
Now, we’re together. Now, we’re whole. Now, we’re home.
The End
V-Card For Sale
Ana Sparks & Layla Valentine
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Copyright 2017 by Ana Sparks & Layla Valentine
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Prologue: June 22, 2007
Tonight is the night.
I whispered the words to myself, smiling at the gorgeously made-up reflection that stared back at me. I could hardly believe any of this was happening to me, of all people.
I, Kristin Blair, was going to senior prom; not just with my makeup and hair perfectly done, my dress perfectly tailored and my high heels perfectly fit, but with the perfect date—Clark Denton—on my arm. Popular, handsome and oh so sweet, he would have his shaggy blonde hair slicked back, he would kiss me in front of everyone, and we would see where the night took us.
