This was getting out of hand.
“You’re not a robot,” I ground out. “You’re not programmed like a fucking computer, you don’t have to do everything they tell you.”
And this time, the brunette fixed me with a glare.
“Stop it,” she said sharply. “I’m just explaining to you what’s going on in my head, it’s not as simple as you think. I’m an eighteen year-old college girl, I can’t just throw everything away. I’m sorry you don’t feel that way, but that’s how I feel.”
And my shoulders slumped then because Mandy was right. Yeah, I wanted to take care of her, I wanted her to move into my huge house, for her to take care of my kid, shit, for us to have a dozen babies of our own. That’s what would make me happy, that’s what would rock my world. But Mandy didn’t see it that way, and it frickin’ broke my heart. My little girl still had a future to pursue, a life to live, and couldn’t just drop everything for me. She had a path of her own, something she’d been building and planning, something waiting for her. So I turned to the only weapon I had left. Shedding my clothes, I stepped into the stall with her, big frame hard and demanding against her soft, succulent one.
“You’re gonna have my baby whether you want to or not,” I murmured into her ear, tweaking a hard nipple, squeezing her breast in my hand. Oh god, Mandy was so bountiful, so soft, her curves so generous that I almost lost it right there, dick jerking against her tummy.
“What was that?” she murmured, her fingers slowly trailing along my length, savoring the hot, hard pole, following a pulsing vein.
And my dick jerked in her hand, pre-cum dripping off the tip, making me groan in agony. I grabbed her close again, so that we were flush against one another, her pussy rubbing against my fuckpole.
“Fuck you, you’re probably pregnant already,” I ground out into her ear, circling my hips, pressing closer to the inevitable finish.
And she sighed in my arms, pushing closer to it, begging for my strength, my arousal, the satisfaction that only I could provide.
“I know,” she breathed. “I know. And Pete, I didn’t want you to use protection because … I want to be pregnant,” she admitted, whispering.
That only made the heat jack up further.
“But if you want to have my baby, why are you going back to campus?” I rumbled harshly. “This makes no sense.”
“I know it doesn’t,” she murmured in reply, throwing her head back and sighing as I stroked her soft tummy. “I guess it’s just part of how complicated this all is. I don’t even get it myself,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “Going to school isn’t what I want, you’re right,” she admitted. “But I’m doing it because it makes my parents happy. I’m not at a point where that can just be brushed off. Even though Jim was a little bonkers with the vacation slides during lunch today,” and here she shot a smile my way, “they’re still my parents, they love me, and I can’t just give them the middle finger. So I hope you understand.”
I shook my head, more confused than ever.
“I don’t get it baby, I don’t,” I ground out. “You’re going back to school, which you don’t want, and at the same time you’re hoping to have my baby? What the fuck? That’s like three different directions at once, how does this make sense?”
And the brunette gave me a small smile then, shrugging her shoulders a bit.
“I guess it doesn’t,” she said softly, whispering against my throat. “I want to have your baby, Pete, and it’s my way of seeing how the land lies. Maybe if I get pregnant, that’s the universe telling me that it’s okay to drop out of Evergreen, that my life’s going in a different direction.”
And suddenly I desperately wanted her to swell with my seed, wanted Mandy to blossom with my child so that I could keep her with me. None of this “see how the land lies” stuff, or “see what the future brings.” What the fuck happened to charting your own course, determining your own fate? Her philosophy was foreign because this wasn’t how I operated, ever.
So I took things into my own hands then, fucking into her, grabbing her hips and thrusting my dick in, pushing into that hot hole, seating her deep so that there was no space in that sweet cunt. No space at all, except for some virile sperm, the beginnings of my baby.
“I’m gonna get you pregnant,” I muttered against her lips. “God help me, but I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant that you never leave.”
And Mandy sighed against my lips, immediately willing, pliant, warm and wet.
“Yes, Mr. Parker,” she murmured. “Yes, get me pregnant, fill me with your cum.”
And so we did it again, right there in the shower, her curvy body embracing mine, pussy pulsing as I filled her with gallon after gallon of my man milk. I wanted her so badly that I was especially alpha this time, swallowing her moans, devouring breastflesh, sucking wetly at her cunt until she came again and again, on my mouth, dick, fingers, wherever I wanted to touch.
But the thing is, it wasn’t enough. Who was I to stand in the way of a blossoming young woman and her dreams? I couldn’t tell her what to do, I could only tell her what I wanted. And if Mandy’s ties to her family were so important that she’d get a college degree for them, then there was nothing more for me to say. I couldn’t understand, having no family but Violet, but god, it fucking sucked, I was so hurt, angry and destroyed all at once. So I took the girl again and again, bidding that curvy body farewell, loving her with every fiber of my being. Because yeah, I adored the beautiful brunette … and despite my best intentions, our fling was coming to an end.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mandy
Campus was miserable, but then I wasn’t expecting much. I knew what I was coming back to. It was winter, the sky grey, the buildings grey, heck, even the people and plants were grey to me now, everything looked the same.
But right, I was here to get an education and not moon endlessly about my past life. Because oh god, winter break with Mr. Parker had been crazy … crazy amazing, that is. I’d fallen in love with a man twice my age, a divorced guy with a daughter, the emotional, the physical, everything between us so good, so right, that I was questioning myself now. Why had I left? Why had I given up a future with the man that I loved for this, studying by myself in the library, an endless parade of exams, tests, quizzes, essays to write, all about things that I didn’t care about?
So I waited impatiently in the bathroom, tapping the counter, fidgety and nervous. The instructions had said the results would be immediate, that there was no wait time but so far, nothing had appeared on the pregnancy test. Not one stripe, not two, and I checked the back of the box again, maybe I’d read the instructions wrong.
But slowly, the blue liquid seeped a little more and the applicator began to flicker. I held my breath, eyes fixed on the plastic stick, heart beating so hard I was sure my roommate could hear outside even though she was listening to music. And then, with a whoof, I exhaled. Not pregnant. There was only one line. Mr. Parker hadn’t knocked me up, I was still me, just me, no baby inside.
And I stood stock still in the bathroom, trembling before the mirror, heart pounding. I looked the same of course. From the outside, I was still Mandy Smith, nerdy girl with curly brown hair and wide brown eyes. But as I stared at myself, my chin started quivering, lips trembling, and slowly, so slowly, a tear formed in the corner of my eye, sliding down my cheek until it dripped off onto the counter.
Because I wanted to be pregnant. I’d wanted Mr. Parker’s baby in me, for his virile sperm to do its work, to make me his, make both of us his. And I guess I’d been waiting for a sign. If I did get pregnant, then it was definitely meant to be, I was going to leave school and move in with him, burrow myself in love, relax in his arms as I grew large with his child. But no. Instead, I was still me, un-pregnant, not pregnant, just the same as before with the same future that had been set out since birth.
What did you expect? I asked myself angrily. That you’d get knocked up in a flash, like some kind of easy-bake oven? B
ut the truth was, yeah, I was kind of hoping so. Mr. Parker and I had made love countless times, never getting enough of one another’s bodies, savoring the physical again and again and again. Shit, the last few days I’d been at his house, he hadn’t worked at all, taking me to bed instead of flipping open his laptop. We hadn’t even eaten any real meals, just snacking here and there because we were so desperate for one another, gorging ourselves on each other, our love fest rolling non-stop.
But maybe I’d done it wrong. He’d come in my mouth a few times, maybe I should have let him come in me instead. Or maybe that one time he did me in back, I should have forced him to put it in my pussy, gotten one more load, that could have made the difference. But it was too late, and I shook my head, still shaky and jumbly in my skin, realizing that I was starting to sound erratic and irrational. What’s done was done, and I had to get a grip.
So I threw the test in the trash, grabbing the plastic bag and tying it up, striding out to the dumpster. I didn’t want that thing in my apartment, didn’t want a reminder of how I’d failed at something I’d secretly desired, so close to my heart. And with a grimace, I grabbed my backpack and trudged off to the campus health center before class. Because yeah, I’ve been feeling unhappy enough lately that I signed myself up for a counseling session with a professional, someone with a degree.
With hesitant steps, I let myself into the waiting room. Oh good, it was clear, none of my classmates were here. I’d half been expecting to see someone I knew, but blessedly there were just a bunch of empty chairs and gingerly, I sat down, still looking around warily. It’s not that I’m against counseling or anything, it’s just that my family’s always raised me to be self-sufficient, you know stiff upper lip, grin and bear it, all that rigamarole. So to find myself in the campus mental health center was a change, but heck, I was desperate.
Finally, a chirpy girl called my name with a clipboard in hand.
“Amanda? Amanda Smith?”
I nodded, grabbing my bag.
“Yes, that’s me,” I mumbled, head down, before snapping my chin back up. Being here wasn’t shameful, it’s just like having a broken arm or leg. But instead of fixing a bone, the doctor was going to fix my head instead.
“Come in, Room Five please, down the hall,” said the chirpy student and I followed her dutifully, sitting as she closed the door.
“Thanks for coming, I’m Rebecca Martin. I’m a Ph.D student in psychology at the school, and I’ll be leading your session today. I’ll need to ask you a couple questions first, Ms. Smith. Do you feel suicidal? Have you felt any need to hurt yourself?” she dug right in.
And I paused.
“Wait, I thought I’d see a real doctor,” I said slowly. “You’re a student, just like me? Are there real doctors here? Is it possible to see one?”
And the girl looked at me speculatively, but nodded.
“Yes, we have clinicians who’ve finished their Ph.Ds, and if you like, I can re-schedule your appointment if you feel it’s necessary. But usually our first few sessions are done with Ph.D students in their final years of study. It’s up to you, I’m happy to do whatever you prefer,” she said neutrally.
I thought for a moment. I would prefer someone with a degree, but then again, the blonde was very professional and god knows, she’d probably already spent years studying. So I nodded.
“No, it’s okay, today is fine with you,” I said, “If I need someone else, I’ll let you know.”
And she nodded once more.
“Sure no problem. But let me ask you first: Have you ever thought about hurting yourself?”
And I shook my head, “No, never.”
That was easy, they probably asked everyone that.
“Okay, great,” she said, noting it on her clipboard. “So how can I help you today Ms. Smith?”
And the story poured out, jumbled, in bits and pieces, a torrent of talk.
“Well, I went over to babysit, and I guess things got carried away,” I started, “There was a man,” I stammered. “Mr. Parker, his name is Mr. Parker.”
The blonde listened, nodding.
“Hold on, Mandy,” she said soothingly. “Let’s start from the very beginning, slowly. One sentence at a time,” she said encouragingly, and I took a deep breath.
“I went home to for winter break and was asked to babysit for one of my old clients. Except … I ended up falling in love with the dad,” I mumbled.
To her credit, Rebecca’s face didn’t change at this revelation, it remained neutral, merely nodding and listening.
“And the man is Mr. Parker?” she asked, tone non-judgmental.
I nodded miserably.
“Yes, the man I fell in love with is Peter Parker, like Spiderman. He’s divorced,” I said quickly, “Not married, totally single, so we weren’t cheating or anything. It’s just that he’s twice as old as me, he’s forty and I’m eighteen. So twenty-two years. That’s a lot isn’t it?”
But Rebecca didn’t confirm anything, instead just listening.
“Well, how do you feel about it? The age difference I mean?”
And I took a deep breath.
“Doesn’t bother me at all, to be honest,” I admitted. “It’s never been a problem for us, Peter and I get along so well, we like the same things, we want the same things, share a lot of values, and I love his daughter, it’s almost like I gave birth to her myself.”
Rebecca nodded slowly.
“Sounds like the age difference isn’t the problem or the fact that he has a child. So let’s unpack this slowly. Is there something else standing in the way, something else making you feel upset?”
And I gestured with my hands, frustrated.
“It’s everything else,” I said desperately. “I’m here, he’s there, I have to get a degree, my parents are paying my tuition and I’m supposed to love being here at this fancy school, I’m supposed to have a career, be a lawyer even, and instead, I’m still thinking about Mr. Parker and what could be,” I babbled.
Rebecca nodded sagely.
“So you’re here, but you want to be there,” she began slowly.
And I gave out a small, miserable cry.
“Yeah, but I can’t go back home,” I said with a muffled sob. “My parents would hate me if I dropped out, I’d hate myself for letting them down. And who gets married at eighteen these days? Who has a baby at eighteen? I’ll be the girl they always warned you about, the girl who threw her life away by getting knocked up at an early age.”
Rebecca nodded again, soothingly. “I see how you feel, I understand,” she said.
I took another deep breath.
“Do you?” I asked, hands twisting in my lap, miserable. I literally didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, didn’t see how this could end well. But I guess that’s not the point of therapy, a counselor can’t solve your problems for you, they can only reflect what you want, help you delve deeper into yourself to come out with some potential answers. “I just don’t know,” I said helplessly. “I really don’t know how to fix this, how to get rid of these feelings, this hopeless situation.”
And Rebecca nodded, again.
“I think, Amanda,” she said, “That it sounds like there’s a disconnect between what you want, and what you think the larger world wants for you.”
I nodded vehemently.
“It’s exactly that. I want to be with Mr. Parker, I want to be with him, to love him, to have his babies, but the world wants me to be in school, to be single and a student, have a high-flying career and all that.”
Rebecca was silent for a moment.
“And you don’t see any way to reconcile the two?”
I shook my head.
“Of course not! How would I manage a career with a baby and a man? Remember, I’m from Central New Jersey, that’s sixty miles from here, it’s not exactly close. How in the world could I have both?”
Rebecca let herself smile a little then.
“A lot of women are in your shoes,
Mandy,” she said gently. “I understand what you’re struggling with, how it feels like you have to make a choice. But the thing is that it’s not so black and white, there are many shades of grey.”
I was stumped. Of course there are many shades of grey in the world, I got that. So what in the world was she talking about? This psychobabble mumbo jumbo was making no sense.
“Are you telling me I should be a teen mom?” I asked slowly. “To drop out of school? Can you even say that, seeing that you work for the university?” I asked, gesturing to our room.
And Rebecca shook her head patiently.
“What I’m saying is that people often feel like they have to pick one path. They have to go right or left, choose between the blue pill or the red pill, but sometimes there’s no blue or red, there’s just shades of grey.”
Okay, back to this shades of grey thing, it was really getting tiresome. Also, was Rebecca really referring to the movie The Matrix during our session? I sighed. Maybe I should have asked for a real doctor, this was turning out to be a waste of time. But there were only twenty minutes left, might as well go with it.
“Okay, let me try to understand what you’re saying,” I began slowly. “There are many choices in the world, and maybe I’m too black and white, either school or no school, Mr. Parker or no Mr. Parker. But given that my parents have already paid forty thousand in tuition, what should I do?” I asked, staring her in the eye.
And the therapist just cocked her head at me.
“I can’t answer that, you know I can’t,” she said slowly. “But remember, many women juggle a relationship, marriage, babies and career at once. Even multiple kids,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not easy, I’ll give you that, it’s very, very hard, and many women are constantly afraid that they’re going to drop one of the balls, that they’re one second away from eggs splattering on the floor. But that’s not the point,” she said firmly. “What I’m trying to say is that it’s not easy to be female because there are so many ways our lives can unfold, so many different things that we’re supposed to want. But you don’t have to choose one thing at the expense of another. You have many options, many possibilities, and you can explore many paths at once.”
His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance Page 24
