“It was them,” comes a sibilant gasp. “They were doing it right in public!”
Another female voice chimes in.
“His cock was so huge! And he had it buried in her ass.”
We walk by, pretending not to listen, with our hands clasped. But just as we reach the exit, an assistant manager jumps into our path.
“Um, Mr. Jackson?” he clears his throat, faltering a bit when he realizes how big I am. “I’m Petey. I work the evening shift.”
My eyebrow cocks as we halt politely.
“And?” I drawl. “What can I do for you Petey?”
The smaller man turns bright red while shuffling his feet. But then he stands up straight, throwing his shoulders back and meets my eye.
“We have to ask you to leave,” he says firmly. “I’m sure you know what this is about.”
I hold my hands up.
“I’m leaving right now,” is my amused drawl. “Come on baby. Let’s go.”
But Petey throws himself in my path before I can push the heavy glass door.
“No, what I mean is that we need to ask you to leave and never come back,” he finishes in a rush. “I’ll need to confiscate your membership cards and terminate your contract. I’m sorry, but we just can’t have … um, that happen again.”
To my amusement, the girl at the reception desk pipes up. She’s a pale, flaccid thing with a raging case of acne on her cheeks.
“Don’t forget to charge them an extra cleaning fee!” she says. “You know, because they got the yoga mats dirty. Consuela said it was going to take some special sponges and detergent just to get the smell out.”
I throw my head back and laugh then, flashing a dazzling white smile. Because the yoga mats are stained with a hot cream pie, my semen dripping straight from Melissa’s ass. I’ve never been so proud to brand my woman, and leaving some around to mark my territory? Sounds perfect.
So I reach for my wallet, flipping it open and tossing both our membership cards onto the counter.
“No worries,” is my drawl. “I have an in-home gym anyways. Come on, sweetheart, let’s go. Good evening.”
And with that, Melissa and I fly through the heavy glass doors.
But once we’re in the car, the brunette turns to me.
“Oh my god, did we just …?” she asks breathlessly, eyes wide. Her cheeks flush, that beautiful body trembling a bit. I palm a big tit, squeezing a bit.
“We did,” I confirm. “We got ourselves expelled from the ritziest athletic club in town. But you know what, sweetheart? It felt good, and I don’t regret it one bit. Because having you like that was worth it.”
And with a saucy look in her eyes, Melissa leans forward to kiss me on my lips.
“You know, before I met you, Mace Jackson, I was a really boring person. I lived to work, instead of working to live. But you’ve brought out the bad girl inside.”
I grin at her.
“And?”
She blushes again.
“And I love it,” she confesses softly, pressing her lips to mine again. This time, it’s more than a brush of our mouths. It’s a full-on lustful connection and I feel her begin to melt again. “I love you, Mace Jackson.”
I jerk suddenly, my body on high. Because did she really just say it? Those perfect three words that have been shining from her eyes these past couple months?
But it really happened. After a dirty anal sex session that got us kicked out of an exclusive athletic club, my girl has finally declared her love. And you know what? I love her too, I want her to bear my children, and most importantly … I’ll never get enough.
Chapter 11
Melissa
I wish I could say that everything ends happily, but for us, there’s more to the story. Because Mace has prostate cancer right? He has elevated PSA levels that are a strong indicator of bad cells gone wild. So what do we do?
As we drove home, our hands were linked.
“Are you going to make me an honest woman?” I ask teasingly.
Mace keeps his eyes on the road.
“Oh I’m gonna do more than that,” he growls. “Just wait for it, baby.”
And inside, I’m thrilled. Because I know where this is headed. Despite the fact that my man is sick, we want to live every day to its fullest. We want to shout our love from the rooftops so that everyone knows, and to experience what this wonderful place called Earth is. We want to have a dozen babies together, god willing.
So when we pull up to his apartment building, Mace tosses his keys to the porter as if he’s in a rush.
“Hey Carlo,” he growls, grabbing my arm and dragging me from the Maserati. “Same as always.”
“Mace!” I whisper, cheeks flushed. “What’s going on? Everyone’s looking, including the old lady who lives in 5B.” Because it was true. Mace was dragging me through the marbled entrance to his building with a determined look on his face, uncaring that his neighbors were staring. And poor Mrs. Johnson from 5B looked absolutely scandalized. Her white curls trembled in the air, just like the fur coat on her Yorkie-poo.
“Mace,” I whispered again as we waited for the elevator. “Slow down! There’s nothing that’s so urgent.”
But the big man swung blazing blue eyes to me then.
“Speak for yourself,” he growled. “But I have something for you, sweetheart, and the time is right. I want to make you mine, and I can’t wait a second longer.”
The breath left my lungs in a whoosh.
“Are you saying … ?” I stammered, my heart pumping a million miles a minute. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just said “I love you” to the man, and suddenly he’d turned into a whirlwind of activity like the Tasmanian devil on speed.
As the elevator dinged his floor, Mace pulled me from the wood-paneled box and into his apartment. Usually, it takes me a moment to adjust because Mace’s place is a luxurious wonderland. The man must have spent seven figures on the place because he’s got floor to ceiling windows with a view of the river, as well as priceless art on the walls and sculptures that beg to be admired and studied.
But today, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Instead, my form dropped limply to a nearby couch, and I gulped.
“Are you going to p-propose?” I stammered in a small voice, my heart practically beating out of my chest. “What’s going on?”
Those blue eyes gleamed. At first I thought I’d gotten it all wrong. That somehow I’d misread the situation. Oh god. I was ready to drop through the floor from sheer embarrassment. But to my delight, Mace suddenly dropped to one knee before me.
“Sweetheart,” he rasped hoarsely, taking a hand in mine. “I’ve never had a woman tell me she loves me before.”
I just stared at him for a moment.
“You haven’t?” I squeaked. “But how is that possible?”
Mace’s eyes darkened for a moment as he squeezed my hands tighter.
“It’s because I’ve never been boyfriend material,” he growled. “I’ve been a fucking asshole when it comes to women. I use them and abuse them, and then toss ‘em by the side of the road without thinking twice.”
My face flushed.
“You were never like that with me,” I whispered. “It doesn’t even seem like you.”
Here, his gaze grew even more intense.
“It’s because I’ve never felt about someone the way I feel about you,” he growls. “You’ve changed my world, Melly. You’ve made me into a new man, which is a hard thing to pull off. I’m forty, sweetheart, and old dogs don’t learn new tricks. But somehow you did it.”
I look at him, flabbergasted.
“But Mace, I didn’t do anything,” is my soft whisper. “You’ve always been kind and caring.”
Those blue eyes flashed.
“No sweetheart,” he growls again. “I’m only nice because of you. You’ve made me this way. With everyone else, I’m a complete asshole, but you’ve made me seen the error of my ways. There’s more to life than being some hardcore businessman who only cares
about making money. There’s life to see, and live, and enjoy, not to mention to revel in. And I want to do that with you by my side,” he finishes fiercely.
But those words, while carrying me to the top of the world, also make my heart come crashing down. Because what if Mace only feels this way because he has cancer? What if this is an “As I Lay Dying” type of moment where the sinner only decides to change his ways when faced with the prospect of death?
I don’t want to ask these questions. It would be so much easier just to take the simple route. Accept his proposal. Put his ring on my finger. Become Mrs. Mace Jackson and live that false life. But I don’t want to because my self-respect would never be the same. I need to be true to myself, as well as this man, and so I take a deep breath.
“Mace,” I say slowly. “I know this isn’t the right time, and it might never be the right time,” are my words. “But I have to ask. Are you only saying this because you’re on your deathbed?”
The alpha male understands what I’m saying immediately. He lets out a short, sharp bark.
“Do you mean am I a changed man because of the cancer?” he quips, one eyebrow quirked.
I blush.
“Well yes,” I stammer, staring down at my hands. “It’s kind of like someone who’s gone through a horrific car accident. They literally see their life flash before their eyes, and when they come out of it alive, they swear they’re going to change their ways. Is that you, Mace? Is that what you’re feeling right now? Not because I’m so amazing, or that we’re in love, which of course are wonderful things,” I stress hurriedly. “I don’t doubt you on that aspect at all. It’s just that … well, I kind of wonder if it’s the disease talking.”
I feel ashamed for even putting voice to these words. Because how can I treat a dying man this way? How can I force him to look into his soul, and answer these devastating questions? But my man is a true alpha male and he takes my chin in one big hand, those blue eyes boring deep into my brown ones.
“I know why you’re asking,” he says, his voice choked. “I understand, and you have a point, Melissa. But the truth is that I really feel these things because of you, and even without the illness, I still think these changes would happen because of you. Things are mixed-up right now what with our attempts to conceive and the prostate issues,” he acknowledges, that handsome profile anguished. “So I understand your need for clarity. But deep down, I know what I feel. I know that the changes to my lifestyle and what I want are because of you. I know it with a certainty, and I’m willing to swear to it on my mother’s grave.”
That makes me smile wobbily for a moment.
“But your mom’s alive and kicking,” I say in a small voice. “So what does that mean?”
Mace grins then but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t dim.
“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Always catching me with your words. That’s what I love about you,” he says, bending forwards and pressing a kiss to my lips. “You’re so fucking smart, honey, and an MD to boot. I’ve honestly never dated anyone who even graduated from high school, much less college.”
That makes me roll my eyes a bit.
“So it’s my brain that’s sexy to you?” I ask drolly. “That big gray mass that sits between my ears?”
His eyes flash.
“Yes. Your brain. Your wit. Your way with words, and with medicine. It’s everything about you, Dr. Carter, and I’m determined to make you mine. Will you, sweetheart? Will you be my wife?” his voice chokes a little, that big form going completely still as he kneels before me on the living room rug. “I don’t have a ring at this moment, but I’ll get you one, I swear.”
The world blooms before me, happiness pouring through my veins like warm spring rain. Because this is the answer to my dreams. My man, devoted to me. Head over heels in love, with every intention of making me an honest woman. And how can I doubt him? Because he speaks with sincerity and force, the intensity of those blue eyes touching me to my very core. Even though his illness looms over us like a gray cloud, at this moment there’s a shaft of sunlight bursting through the shadows and bathing me in honeyed warmth.
So I squeeze his hands, almost unable to speak.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” are my murmured words. “It doesn’t matter if you have a ring. It doesn’t matter if we never exchange rings because I just want to be with you, Mace. I want to spend my days with you, and make sure that we live every moment to its fullest.”
And with that, the alpha male pulls me into his arms then, cradling me against that big body as he sits on the couch.
“You’ve made me so happy sweetheart,” he breathes against my hair. “So incredibly happy. And there’s going to be a ring,” he growls fiercely. “I want the world to know that you belong to me in every way, shape and form. I’m gonna put two rings on you, if that’s what it takes.”
I giggle, heady with love.
“Two rings? But what does that mean?”
“You’ll see,” he remarks darkly, a certain look in those blue eyes. “I want the world to know who my woman is, and she’s gonna wear my marks in every way possible.”
The breath catches in my chest because I know my man has something planned.
“Well, if I think I know what you’re talking about …” begins my coy phrase.
Mace seizes the moment and slowly trails one big hand over my lush tits and down to the sweet vee of my pussy.
“Oh you know what I want,” he rasps, those clever fingers slipping into my panties to pinch my clit, making me gasp. “I’m gonna put a ring here,” he says, squeezing my clit again. “How’s that gonna make you feel, little girl? Every time I run my hard shaft in, it’s gonna brush against a little silver something.”
Honestly, I’m wet as fuck. I want it. I want to be laid out on the piercing table as Mace watches, getting a tiny silver ring punched through my clit for Mace to play with. He’ll tug on it during the most inopportune moments, like when we’re at a restaurant or at the movies, to make me shriek with pleasure.
But I can’t get it. Not now, and not for another nine months at least. Because there’s a secret I have to share, and the time has come to tell my man.
“Mace,” I say slowly, my tits going up and down. They seem bigger already, although I’m only three months in. “You know how we’ve been trying lately? So hard and so much?”
Instantly, his eyes blaze with fire.
“Are you …?” he growls. “Are you pregnant? Are you having my child, Melissa?”
I smile sweetly at him.
“I am,” is my low murmur. “I’m so excited Mace. I want a healthy little boy who looks exactly like you.”
His eyes blaze again, but he shakes his head.
“Naw honey. I want a little girl who looks just like you, with the same curly brown hair and brown eyes. Plus, with your intelligence, she’ll be an astronaut for sure. Or a Nobel prize-winning scientist.”
His dreams make me giggle, and I add coyly, “See why I can’t get a clit piercing? I’m going to have a baby, and we don’t want the baby’s head to get scratched on the way out.”
He growls hungrily, pulling me close once more.
“Nor do we want to shock the doctors and nurses when they see that the sweet and responsible Melissa Carter, MD, has a piercing in her pussy. Although I look forward to the day you get one,” he says, blue eyes gleaming. “I’m gonna use my tongue to play with it non-stop. How about some bells on the thingy too?” he asks. “You want to sound like wind chimes while you walk?”
I slap his broad chest playfully.
“My pussy’s not gonna sound like wind chimes,” I scold sassily. “It would be more like an orchestra,” I add, rolling my eyes.
“Da-dum, da-dum,” sings Mace playfully, his fingers still niggling my clit and making me moan. But then those blue eyes grow serious again.
“No seriously sweetheart. This means the world to me. It’s the best gift I could ever get, and I’m changing my will so that you a
nd the baby will never lack for anything,” he says fervently. “You will be my sole heirs, and if I pass early,” he says, breath hitching for a moment, “you and the baby will be set up just fine.”
My eyes grow soft.
“I know, Mace,” are my words. “I know you’ll take care of us no matter what. I trust you, and I love you,” is the gentle refrain.
Because this is the best ending that we could have. We’re not like a normal family. There are certain medical issues that make the unimportant things fall away, while bringing the important issues to the fore. Important: our love for one another, our baby, and living life to the fullest. Not important: the small indignities that are impossible to avoid as a part of being alive. Because life itself is a gift, and even if my husband’s days are numbered, we want to appreciate and live our time together in the best way possible: together … with the new baby making three.
Epilogue
Mace
Two years later …
Well, it’s been two years and I’m still alive and kicking. So much for modern medicine. So much for diagnostic tests which experts treat as the end-all and be-all of life itself. Because yes, my PSA levels were elevated, and elevated results are a marker of cancer risk. But I don’t have prostate cancer. I never got it, and to this day, the elevated levels are still there although I’m healthy and fit as a horse.
His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance Page 8
