by Izzy Slam
“Look at how goddamn sexy you are.”
Her eyes flit to the side, like she’s worried we might be discovered.
Like I care. What’s the worst that could happen? We get kicked out?
I reach down the front of her panties and find her heat. And my God, her gash is sopping wet. Sutton parts her legs for me, leaning back as I dip inside her opening and coat the tip of my finger, bringing it out to slick along her swollen clit.
I then tug the string that hangs between her breasts, loosening the top and forcing her tits to be displayed. My cock pulses hard in my pants, but I don’t stop. The look of desire on her face, and the little blush that’s spreading across her cheeks is driving me right now.
Her pretty pink nipples are hard for me, so I work them between my fingers, going from one breast to the other while I diddle her bundle of nerves.
She huffs, and her legs quake, and she comes for me, sucking her lips into her mouth and rolling the back of her head on my chest. I hear a whimper escape her throat, and my cock leaks like mad, but fuck. Feeling her little clit dance on my finger makes the torment worth it.
“Are you doing okay in there? Can I bring you anything else to try on?”
Sutton’s eyes grow wide and her face starts to redden. All I can do is rub the pad of my finger over that sexy little bump of flesh between her legs and she croaks.
“Nope. I’m good.”
“Ummm, okaaaay.” The sales woman has to notice I’m not still in the lobby of the dressing room, but she’s obviously too discreet to say as much.
I give one more flick to Sutton’s clit and kiss her on the neck, and this time she lets out an audible moan. One that makes me even stiffer.
I step out from the room and wait in the chair while she gets her clothes back on, giving my cock time to go down. I’d probably be arrested with the hard-on I have now.
But again, worth it.
Sutton and I are like this over the next few weeks, fucking like savage creatures every chance we get.
One afternoon, she comes with me to an open house I’m hosting. I always have to get there about an hour early to turn on the lights, make sure everything looks good, and set my business cards in a few places around the house. But Sutton wants to put her little magic touch on it by setting out snacks, looking about as professional as she can in a tie-dyed pencil skirt and white, silk blouse.
“Not that I agree with it, but people will remember you if you feed them. Especially if you feed them delicious stuff.”
She has this prideful glow about her as she sets a variety of cookies on a plate. She even takes care in how she organizes the soda on the counter tops.
“Speaking of delicious stuff, I’m getting a little hungry.”
She smirks and walks around the island in the kitchen. “Well, maybe you ought to have the first bite.”
Sutton then proceeds to shimmy the tight little skirt she’s wearing up her hips and fold herself over the counter, spreading her legs and wiggling her bottom. And great goddamn if she’s not even wearing panties.
I groan and sink to my knees, cupping her amazingly fleshy ass and kneading it in my hands. I push her cheeks apart and bury my face in her folds, slinking my tongue all through her wetness. She moans, loudly, and rolls her hips in a circle as I bring her to orgasm.
Then I stand up and unbuckle my pants, even though it’s on the hour and people could start showing up at any minute.
“Fuck me, Daddy. Hurry.”
I don’t have any protection with me, but you know, we’ve done it without a few times. And when you’ve fucked without protection a couple of times, one more time doesn’t seem like a big deal.
With my blood running hot, and my needs trumping all else, I remove my cock from my pants and bury myself balls deep, gripping her hip and rutting in as far as I can.
Sutton huffs, and I watch her hair whip back and forth as I fuck her hard and steady. She white-knuckles the counter, and seconds after I feel her walls clamping down on me, I come inside of her, filling that belly up once again without remorse.
“Fuck,” I grunt, holding her waist as I spurt one last time.
And when I hear the squeak of the front door open, I barely get myself tucked back in my pants in time, watching Sutton wiggle her skirt back down and put on her professional face.
Jesus Christ, I think I’m falling for this girl. And let me explain why: fucking isn’t all we do.
We hike along the trail around the lake. And she tells me stories of her childhood, remembering her parents without tearing up.
I take her ziplining at one of my favorite places. She doesn’t want to go because she’s terrified of heights. But when I take her for a tour and she sees that the lines are no more than twenty feet off the ground, she’s excited.
We cook together some and eat out a lot, and I’m relieved to see her appetite coming back.
We go swimming in the lake, and she lies out naked in the sun while I trace letters over her chest and make her guess what I’m spelling out.
We watch television and curl up in my bed and read books, enjoying the silence that exists between us. And some nights, she doesn’t go back to her bed. Those are the nights I love the most.
Autumn calls a few times, keeping us updated on her training and what she’s learning. Sutton usually leaves the room now when they talk, and every time she does, the knife in my gut twists a little deeper, knowing this hole I’m digging by staying silent is also only going to get deeper.
But this morning, something happens. Something that leaves me conflicted. Autumn calls first thing. I’m making my coffee and preparing to head into the office to update my MLS listings. Sutton comes out and grumbles that she doesn’t feel that great, she isn’t hungry for breakfast, she just wants some apple juice. She pours her juice without saying a word and takes it back to her room. So she seems off.
It was after that when my daughter calls, her voice filled with excitement. “Dad, guess what. I’m coming home tomorrow!”
“Baby, that’s great!” I start to go to Sutton’s room and let her know, but I decide against it, wanting her to get some rest.
Autumn then explains that she’ll be home for about three days, then she’ll be deployed to Africa, and they’re going to have this big sendoff party. But she wants to know if I think Sutton will be up for it.
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t.”
“I just want to be sensitive to her feelings, you know? With her having lost her parents and all.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Sutton is doing remarkably well, sweetheart. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
So that’s that. We end the call, and everything seems okay. But my thoughts keep returning to Sutton and wondering if she’s feeling better. So mid-afternoon, I send her a text and ask, but she doesn’t respond. Not fifteen minutes later, not thirty minutes later. And not even an hour later.
Something in my gut is warning me. And that concern is only compounded when I get a message from Autumn.
What’s wrong with Sutton?
I reply. What do you mean?
I called her to let her know I was coming home and she just sounded … flat. She said she hoped she’d still be there but that she was thinking of spending the rest of the summer in Europe with her aunt and uncle. Did something happen today?
Christ. I’m completely stumped. I don’t know what to tell Autumn, but she deserves to know the truth.
If only I had the whole truth to give her.
I message Autumn back.
I’m not sure what’s going on. I’ll talk to her and find out. Don’t worry sweetheart.
The whole way home, I feel sick, wondering if Sutton is slipping into a depression, and if our affair has only made things worse.
Sutton
When I woke up this morning, I was nauseated, barely making it to the bathroom before puking. Luckily, Max was in the shower so he didn’t hear. I hobbled back to bed and tried to go back to sleep, but
then I got thirsty so I had to get up.
We ordered takeout last night, and I didn’t eat all the much, but whatever I ate must have been tainted with some bad shit.
Or so I keep telling myself.
Because when I backtrack and do the math, I realize I haven’t had a period in a long time. I put off checking my period tracker on my phone because I’m scared of just how long it’s been, but after guzzling apple juice and still feeling lightheaded when I stand up, I know denying it won’t make it go away.
I open the app and sure enough, it’s been nearly six weeks since the crimson tide has washed upon my shores.
Max has already left for work, and he told me he would be gone all day playing catch up on marketing stuff. Which means if I go to the store to buy a pregnancy test, I’ll have to do it alone. Which honestly is fine. If I can get out of bed without passing out.
I take my time, sitting up and not rushing it. Then I fumble my way to the bathroom, popping a few berry flavored antacid pills. I take a warm bath and actually feel worlds better. So I make a few pieces of dry toast and call an Uber. I really just want to get this over with.
In the meantime, Autumn calls and tells me she’s coming home tomorrow. I’m not surprised. We knew she’d only be gone a few weeks for training. But I freak out and tell her I might not even be here. And I don’t even know why I say it. I just blurt it out, thinking that running away sounds like a good option. I’m not thinking straight, and I know it. But everything feels jumbled up right now.
On the way to the store, I mull over the possible outcomes, one being the preferred, that I’m not pregnant and I just have a bug. But that leaves me feeling just as sick inside, and here’s why.
Autumn will only be here for three days, but that’s three whole days I’ll have to hide my feelings for her dad. And then she’ll be gone again, and the next month will fly by, and our summer fling will be over, and I’ll go to college and who knows when I’ll see Max again. And do we keep this secret about our relationship from her? And if so, how?
It’s all so fucked up. It feels like I’m lying. And what’s even more fucked up is that I think I feel something for him. Like, it’s not all just about the amazing sex we have. I can be myself around him. I can be wild and free and dirty, and he just takes it all. How the hell do I just give that up?
So then there’s the other option, the obvious one where I am pregnant. And that one is even more fucked. Autumn will hate me. It will probably destroy our friendship. But too fucking bad because now I’m having her kid brother or sister so we’re kind of stuck together for life.
And what about Max? How do I even know he wants another kid?
I don’t know. Which is why if I am pregnant, I’m going to have to disappear and figure this out on my own. This is my fault anyway. I’m the one who climbed on top of him several weeks ago and rode him good and hard until he came inside of me. And the several other times I’ve basically willed him to fuck me when he didn’t have protection around, like that one time on the beach when he saw me laying out in the nude, and dragged his fingers over my body, and I eagerly spread my legs, begging him to make me come. But of course he came too. He always does. And since this is my fault, I can’t drag the two most important people in my life through my bullshit.
I hug my waist as I walk back into the house and down the hall with the test in the hand. My stomach is growing tighter again, twisting and burning.
I feel the acid rising up my throat as I pee on the stick.
I lie on the bathroom floor, arms clasped over my belly as I count silently to 180.
And my heart nearly beats out of my chest when I see the two pink lines.
I don’t know how long I stare at it. The lines blur when I start to cry, and I just lie there on the bathroom rug, crying my eyes out, internally kicking myself for being so dumb and wishing my parents were still alive so I could worry about having to tell them.
Oh, but I wouldn’t even be in this predicament if it weren’t for their deaths because I wouldn’t be here, spending the summer with a man who’s old enough to be my daddy, who I address as “Daddy” from time to time.
I’m scared. I’m lost. And I’ve never felt more alone in my life.
***
I’m sitting out on the back patio when Max gets home, listening to reggae music on the Bluetooth.
“Sutton?”
I flick my head in his direction, still not sure if I’m going to tell him. I’m not sure about anything yet. I’ve got his life growing inside of me. A life I already love so much. But one that I don’t want to be a burden to him.
“Hey, you’re home a little early.”
He slides the door closed and sits in the lounge chair next to me. “I came home because I tried messaging you. Then I tried calling you and you didn’t answer. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I must have left my phone in my room. Sorry. How was your day? Did you get caught up?”
He lets out this frustrated sort of laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Listen, Autumn told me about your phone call today. What’s this about you possibly going to Europe for the rest of the summer?”
Shit. That was something I hadn’t banked on, Autumn telling Max about our little convo. “I might, I don’t know. Haven’t decided yet. It’s not a done deal.”
“I didn’t think that was an option. You said you don’t have a passport.”
“I can get one,” I snap, hating that I’m already feeling moody.
Max tilts his head at me and brushes my knee with the back of his hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, baby.”
Baby.
My mouth turns sour.
“Nothing is going on. I’m allowed to want to see my family.”
“I realize that. I’m glad you want to see them. And I want to do everything I can to encourage that. It’s just … this sudden change. I wonder what’s prompted it.”
I hate that he’s putting me on the spot when I just want to be left alone while I sort this out. Well, that’s not what I really want.
What I really want is to tell him we’re having a baby and to have this intensely normal celebration about it. Then feel him wrap me up in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be okay and that he’ll help me through it, he’ll take care of me. But that seems like a pie in the sky daydream.
“Nothing has prompted it. Just leave me alone.”
I jump off the lounge chair and barge back into the house, stomping down the hall and into my room. Emotional outbursts are not the norm for me. But it feels like someone else has taken over my body.
Someone who is alien to me.
Someone I don’t even know anymore.
Max
When Sutton storms off I am speechless. I have no clue what’s caused her to act this way. If we were in a play, it would feel like I’ve walked in mid-scene with no script and no background. Last night, she was fine. She even stayed in bed with me longer than usual after we fucked, telling me about a concert she wants to go to later in the summer. And now this.
I mean, what the fuck happened?
I give her a few minutes to calm down, and then I head to her room. But on the way, something catches my eye. A piece of paper sticking out from under the little table at the end of the hall. When I pick it up, I see that it’s a receipt from the drug store downtown. It looks like someone bought a pregnancy test.
The floor threatens to slip out from under me. This could be old, from when Autumn was here. But no, that doesn’t make sense. I would have seen it already.
My pulse thumps like a jackhammer as I scan the receipt for the date, and when I see today’s numbers, I know.
Sutton is either clippy because she thought she was pregnant. Or because she is pregnant.
Oh wow. If she is pregnant with my baby, I’m afraid to admit how happy I would be. But she doesn’t know that. She’s probably been tormenting herself.
I’m about to make it crystal fucking clear to her, just how much I w
ant this baby.
If she is pregnant.
I knock on the door and ignore her plea for me to go away. When I walk in her room, she’s sitting on the bed, hands pressed to the mattress as she leans back and stares outside at the sun cutting through the bright green leaves of the trees.
“Are you pregnant?” I ask, getting right to the heart of the matter.
She barely turns her head in my direction and I see her chest expand as she takes in a deep breath.
“Sutton,” I repeat. God help me, I love the way her name sounds rolling off my tongue.
“If I am, it’s not your problem.”
Her words punch me in the chest. “Excuse me? You want to run that by me again?” My words come grinding out through clenched teeth.
She looks at me now, a little fear in her eyes. How she could say such a thing….
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”
“How did you mean it then? Because it sounded like you were calling our baby your problem.”
Her eyes well up with tears, and she rubs her nose with the back of her hand. And everything I feel for this girl comes flooding out.
I kneel on the floor in front of her and cup her beautiful face. Her blue eyes turn cerulean as the tears ripple across the surface. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“I—I didn’t know what to do,” she chokes out.
I pull her into my arms and hold her as tight as I can, stroking her hair. “Okay, baby. Okay. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t have to figure this out alone.”
Her body racks as she cries, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I can’t believe this happened. My parents die, and I go out and get pregnant? And I didn’t think you’d want it. And … and … I figured it was my fault for, you know …” she says, sniffling and bunching up my shirt with her fist.
I look at her once more, wiping her tears with my thumbs. “My God, Sutton. This is not your fault. There’s no one to blame. Because if we place blame, then that means we regret. And the way I see it, if you’re pregnant with my child, that is a cause for celebration.”
