by Tia Siren
I swallowed hard and tried to focus on the glass in my hands. For some reason, I felt upset.
But Michael didn't say any of those things. Instead, he reached a hand toward me, resting it on the bar. It was enough to draw my eyes up towards his. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice impossibly gentle. “Sometime this weekend.”
“I have to get back to work,” I said, my emotions threatening to choke me.
“Okay,” Michael repeated. He turned back towards the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. But he didn't chat up the women like he normally would. Instead, he watched the sports channel that was on the TV closest to him for a while, and then, when it became clear that Chris wasn't going anywhere unless it was home with the girl to his left, Michael got up and left alone.
I didn't know why that made me as happy as it did. Or rather, I had an idea of why, but I didn't want to examine that too closely.
Chapter Fifteen
Michael
I waited impatiently to hear from Paige for the rest of the week, but I still hadn't heard anything from her by Saturday. I had to wonder if maybe she was having second thoughts. Not that she could back out of this now. She might already be pregnant, but even if not, she had signed a contract.
I frowned, thinking that over. I wasn't sure exactly what I would do if she did try to back out. Normally, you could bring someone to court over something like that, but I didn't know if I wanted to do that over this. Not just because Paige was involved, I hurried to remind myself. It also would be weird to have such a private matter out in a courtroom, in front of a judge. If the media caught wind of it as well, we'd be dealing with everything that I'd been hoping to avoid by having Paige sign a nondisclosure agreement in the first place.
I was worried, and the longer I waited to hear from her, the more worried I became.
My mind started to churn: what if she somehow already knew that she was pregnant and she was avoiding me now? Maybe she had already decided that she wanted to keep the baby. Or maybe she was thinking of getting rid of it. Contract or no contract, I couldn't stop her either way, especially since no money had changed hands yet.
By mid-afternoon, I found that I was having a difficult time distracting myself, only this time, I wasn't distracting myself from all the good, sexy thoughts of what I wanted to do to her. No, I was worried. I had to call her.
Her phone rang for a while before she picked up. “Hello?” She sounded out of breath like she had run to the phone.
“Hey, it's me, Michael. What are you up to right now?”
“Just got out of the shower,” Paige said, and oh, there was the return of those sexy thoughts. I palmed myself through my jeans, but it didn't bring me any relief.
“Mm, I wish I could be there right now,” I told her. “The things I'd like to do to you.” There was silence on the other end of the line, and I winced, wondering if I'd gone too far. “Paige, are you okay? You've been quiet this week.”
“Sorry, I'm just getting ready for work right now,” she said, sounding distracted. “I'm running a bit late, and you know how busy we can get on a Saturday night.” Her voice was cool and nonchalant, and I was surprised at how much it made me want her. Usually, girls that I slept with were the ones calling me back, asking for another go. Maybe I needed to show Paige even more of a good time, even more pleasure. I had thought I'd done a good job with her already, but she didn't sound interested in another round. I'd have to change that.
“I'll pick you up from work tonight,” I suggested, carefully phrasing it so that it wasn't quite a question.
There was a pause. “Okay,” Paige said, and for the first time, I could hear a chink in the armor. I smiled to myself. Maybe she did want it, and she was just afraid to show it. “I'm off at two again,” she told me.
“Good, I'll be there,” I told her, hanging up the phone.
The rest of the day went better, or at least, I was marginally more capable of focusing. I drank a few beers on my own, deciding to show up at The Shift at two instead of early. I didn't want to cost Paige her tips again; I still felt bad about the previous time.
I thought back to how she had said that it would basically be prostitution if I paid her tips, and I suddenly wanted to make the point that I paid her tips for drinks all the time and that if it didn't count as prostitution then, it wouldn't now. But I didn't want to start an argument with her first thing.
When I got to the bar, it was still crowded, and I could tell that the night was going to go on for a long time for some people. Not for Paige, though. She was waiting for me outside the door, her hands deep in the pockets of her coat. She looked cold, and I winced, wondering how long she'd been there. I kissed her, though, and her face was still warm.
“Come on, the limo's down the block,” I told her, linking my arm in hers.
Paige leaned in to me as we walked towards the vehicle. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she remained quiet as we sat in the limo. I remembered our passion from the previous time we'd been in there, and I couldn’t help but shudder a little.
I glanced over at Paige, noting the way her short black skirt was riding up somewhat due to how low the seats were and how high her heels were.
“You never used to wear heels at work,” I commented.
Paige blinked at me, looking surprised that I had noticed, and then she blushed and turned away.
I looked back at her legs, and suddenly, I couldn't take it any longer. I slid onto my knees on the floor and tugged her towards me. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties and deftly removed them. Then, opening her legs wide, I leaned forward, inhaling her heavenly scent.
She gasped as I flicked my tongue across her nub. Her hands came up to twist in my hair. “Oh please,” she whispered.
“You like that, baby?” I asked, watching her face carefully, cataloguing her reactions as I licked and sucked at her folds.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she moaned long and low, her legs falling even further open. She belatedly nodded her head, as though just now processing what I had asked her, and I couldn't help grinning. She liked it, all right.
I grazed my teeth lightly across her clit, and she arched against the seat, her fingers tightening on my hair. Then, she removed her fingers, looking apologetic. Without saying a word, I reached out and caught her wrists, putting her hands right back where they had been. I didn't mind her pulling my hair. In fact, I liked having that reminder of how badly she needed this, of how close she already was to losing control.
As I stabbed my tongue inside her opening, she shuddered, wordless pleas falling from her lips. I began to play my fingers across her tender spots, in addition to the work that I was doing with my tongue. Then, I stabbed my fingers inside of her, using them alongside my tongue. All the while, I used my thumb to keep pressure on her clit.
Paige sobbed with pleasure, her hands now tightly gripping the edge of the seat. She came, her walls fluttering around my tongue and fingers, and I gave a self-satisfied smirk.
But I wasn't done with her yet. Instead, I turned her so that she was lying prone on the back seat of the limo. While she was still shaking through her orgasm, I filled her in a different way, pressing deep inside of her and delighting in the noises she made. I didn't care that the driver could probably hear us or that we were still driving along the road; I had to have her right now. It had been days, after all, since I had seen her.
I didn't know why those days felt like an eternity, but right now, being inside of her was the best feeling in the world. I thrust hard and fast, and she moved with me, seemingly just as needy as I was. I could already feel myself getting close to orgasm, my balls drawing up tight and my manhood throbbing with the need for release. I tried to think of unsexy thoughts, so I could draw this out a little longer. But the only thing I could think of was Paige. Seeing her spread out beneath me there in the limo, open and wanting even though there was nothing even remotely romantic about this quick fuck in the back of a car, it was al
most more than I could take.
I slammed my hips into hers, the sound of my sac hitting that shapely ass of hers. There was nothing gentle in this; we weren't making love or creating a life. No, we were fucking. Exploring our raw, carnal lust for one another. And I liked it.
“Michael,” Paige whimpered, her hands tugging at my biceps.
I leaned down towards her and kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around me, clinging to me as though she was just along for the ride. I bit a line of heated kisses down her neck. She tasted so good, from the slightly salty taste of her skin to the incredible taste of her down between her legs. God, it was heavenly.
Her fingers clenched even more tightly against my skin as I sucked a mark into her skin, making sure that it was low enough that it wouldn't be visible when she had a normal shirt on. I couldn't deny myself the chance to mark her as mine, but I didn't think she'd appreciate having to show off that mark until it healed up. This was a private thing, what we had between us. Whatever it was.
“Michael, I'm going to come,” Paige said desperately, biting her lower lip.
“Good,” I growled, continuing to rock into her. “Come for me, baby. I want to see you fall apart for me.”
Paige gave a strangled cry and came. It was too much, feeling her tight pussy contract around my length, and I came as well, slamming my hips forward in one last, bruising thrust before I stilled, spilling my seed inside of her. It felt like I kept coming, like every time I even started to move, she milked a little more out of me.
I groaned, feeling exhausted and spent. When I pulled back a little, Paige didn't look much better than me. But she smiled up at me. “Thanks,” she whispered.
I grinned. “Did you just thank me for fucking you?”
She looked self-conscious, but she shrugged. “I feel good,” she said.
“Good,” I said. I pulled back and tugged my jeans back up, pushing my member back inside. Then, I slowly slid Paige's panties back on, watching her shiver as I lightly stroked a single finger across her still-tender folds. “Too much?” I asked.
“A good too much,” Paige whispered.
I smiled and pulled her into my arms. We were already at my apartment, but I didn't want to move just yet.
“Do you want me to go home?” Paige asked suddenly.
I stared uncomprehendingly down at her for a moment. “What?” I finally asked.
“Do you want me to go home?” she repeated. “You just had me over here so that we could have sex, right? So that we could make sure that I got pregnant this cycle. Now we've done that, do you want me to go home?”
I considered the way she fit so perfectly in my arms. Remembered how nice it had been to wake up to her that last time. And when I thought about sending her home, especially when she had just come so beautifully, I felt heartless and cruel.
“Why don't you come upstairs with me?” I suggested, brushing back a lock of her hair. “You look exhausted; you should come inside and get some sleep.”
Chapter Sixteen
Paige
When Michael suggested that I come inside and sleep over again, I hesitated, not sure if I should. I had been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. I knew we had the contract between us, but he seemed as though he cared about me. I wondered how deep those feelings went. In any case, I didn't particularly want to go home to my lonely bed. I had slept so well the last time, with Michael holding me, and I craved another of those nights.
So I followed him upstairs.
As before, he led me down the hall to his bedroom, but this time, he didn't pounce on me the minute we walked through the door. Instead, he slowly began to strip, his eyes on me. I felt the faintest trace of arousal, watching him do that, but I interrupted all those thoughts with a jaw-cracking yawn.
Michael laughed. “I think it's someone's bedtime,” he commented.
I stretched widely. “I can't help it,” I said. “I routinely stay up so late for work, but two orgasms with you and I feel totally boneless.”
“Good,” Michael said, his eyes going dark for a moment. But then, he yawned as well, looking sheepish. “Well, I don't routinely stay up this late for work, so it's definitely time for me to go to bed.” He folded his clothes and put them in the hamper, and I folded my skirt and shirt and put them on top of the dresser, carrying just my phone over to the bed and putting it down on the bedside table.
I slipped into bed with my panties on, and Michael followed suit in his boxer briefs. He rolled towards me, putting an arm around me. “Mm, good night,” he murmured against the back of my neck.
I paused and then blurted out the question that I wanted to ask him. “Would you come to dinner with me at my parents' house tomorrow?” I felt Michael stiffen, and I hurried to explain. “My mother's been hounding me for a while, worried that I'm not in a real relationship yet. If she finds out that I've gotten pregnant, she's going to be worried if she doesn't think there's a guy in the picture. If they met you, though, it would ease her mind. I'm not asking for a long-term commitment from you, nothing like that. It just would make things so much easier for me.”
Michael was silent for a long moment, and I began to regret asking. But finally, he sighed, his breath hot against my skin. “I suppose that's the least that I can do for you,” he said. “All right.”
“Thank you,” I said, finding his hand where it rested against the sheets in front of me. “That means a lot.”
The next morning when I woke up, Michael was in the kitchen, humming away to something on the radio. He looked startled and slightly guilty when I walked in. “Was I making too much noise?” he asked.
I grinned at him. “Believe it or not, I don't always sleep until the middle of the afternoon,” I told him.
He grinned back at me and eyed the shirt that I was wearing. “You look good in my T-shirt,” he said, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.
My stomach growled, and I laughed. “No sex before breakfast,” I told him. “Or brunch, as the case may be.”
“Fair enough,” Michael said, dishing out plates.
“I thought you had Rosa for this,” I told him.
“She cooks a lot of the time,” Michael said, nodding. “But Sunday is her day off. And I like cooking anyway. It's relaxing.”
“Oh,” I said, taking a bite of my eggs Benedict, impressed with how perfectly poached they were. “Wow, this is tasty.”
“I'm glad you like it,” Michael said. “Eggs Benedict was always one of my favorites growing up, but I only ever got it when my dad was home since it was his favorite dish too. But he wasn't home very often.”
“I can't even imagine growing up like that,” I said, shaking my head. “My parents were almost always there. We still have these Sunday night dinners every week, and I'm expected to be and never miss. I think Mom would ask for a doctor's note if I told her I couldn't attend one week, that's how serious it is.”
Michael laughed. “I can't imagine that,” he said. “My parents were hardly ever around. I was raised mostly by nannies and tutors. I mean, I had everything that I could possibly want, don't get me wrong. Except there wasn't a lot of love in our house.”
I frowned. “You don't plan to raise your child like that, do you?” I asked, putting a hand protectively over my stomach, even though I didn't know if there was a baby in there or not. “I know it's none of my business, but I don't want to think of bringing a child into this world for such a heartless upbringing.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth immediately after I'd said it, feeling embarrassed. “That's not to say that your parents were heartless or that you would be as well, if that's what you're planning,” I told him quickly.
“It's okay,” Michael said, shaking his head. “That's not how I plan to bring up our child. My child.” He looked embarrassed at having let that “our” slip. Because of course, it wouldn't be our child. It was his.
I felt a pang in my heart at the very thought of that, but I chose to ignore it
.
That night, I brought him to my parents' house to introduce him. I called ahead to warn Mom that I was bringing a guest, but I didn't specify who it was or what gender, and I hoped she assumed I just meant I was bringing Erica with me finally.
When she saw Michael, I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull.
“Mom, this is Michael,” I said, giving her a stern look that told her to behave herself.
“Michael, nice to meet you,” Mom said, ignoring his proffered hand and going instead for a hug that Michael awkwardly returned. “It's such a shame that Holly can't be here tonight. I'm sure she would have loved to meet you.”
Michael raised an eyebrow at me, and I blushed furiously. “Mom, why don't Michael and I go set the table?” I suggested. When it was just Michael and me in the dining room, I bit my lower lip. “Sorry about that,” I told him. “She's enthusiastic. And Holly's my younger sister. She can get out of dinners because she's basically perfect.”
“And you think you're not?” Michael asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can't remember the last time I saw my mother hug someone. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen her hug someone.”
“Oh just wait,” I told him. “You're not getting out of here without at least two more hugs. She's probably going to make you take all the leftovers home with you too, so I hope you like whatever it is she's making.”
“Linguini with clam sauce, and homemade garlic bread,” Dad supplied, entering the room. He shook hands with Michael. “Good to meet you, son,” he said. “Paige, your mother asked if you could help out in the kitchen.”
I shot Michael a look, wondering if he would be okay in there with just Dad. But he didn't look worried. I nodded and headed into the kitchen, telling him to call me if he needed anything.
