The Marriage Pact: A Baby Romance

by Tia Siren

  We got to the studio. Thankfully, the only car nearby was Leah’s; and, fortunately, it was the only car around for the entire duration of our stay.

  I showed Darren the office areas where “work” could get done, as well as the space I reserved specifically for writing sessions.

  I showed him the recording booth and my studio setup, and he was like a kid in a candy store. While he looked around at everything, I took a seat at the piano.

  Leah joined us, sipping on an iced coffee and looking good.

  “What’s up, girl?” I said to her.

  “Not much,” Leah said. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

  I began playing the piano, dancing around the keys, hoping to find a decent accompaniment to the words I’d been thinking up on the plane.

  “Hi Leah!” said Darren as he checked out a subwoofer.

  “Hey, Darren! Nice to see you again. You like Tennessee so far?”

  “Haven’t seen much of it, but so far so good!”

  I found a few melodies that I liked, but none that matched what I was looking for.

  “So, what’ll it be, superstar?” she asked me. “Are we signed to a label?”

  I confided to her my apprehensions and communicated my fears. I expected a heated response, but she was surprisingly chill.

  “I’m just glad you’re really thinking about it,” said Leah. “I know we were supposed to kind of have an answer by now, but they actually said we could push meetings and discussions until the start of next week.”

  “Fuck, yes!” I cheered.

  “Monday is the day, though,” she said. “Know your decision by then, so I know whether we’re talking to their producers or not.”

  I agreed with Leah’s assessment. Darren stood by the piano, watching me.

  “I’m really happy to see you doing so well, Bailey,” he said. “This studio is—don’t take it personally—way better than I thought it was going to be. You have a killer setup here. I’m jealous.”

  “You can use some of the equipment, you know,” I told him. “It’s all ours. Or, you can sit here on the bench with me and sing.”

  “I’m good,” he said.

  “C’mon,” I whined. “Play the piano with me.”

  “You’re the artist, darling,” he said.

  “I thought you were a performer, too,” said Leah. “I want to hear you play!”

  “I’m terribly out of practice,” he said.

  “Yeah, if you’re going to be putting out music on the radio, you’ve got to start somewhere,” I said with a wink.

  “I’ll just wait until you’re really famous and sleep with you to get a recording contract,” he remarked.

  “Damn!” said Leah. “Cold!”

  “Listen to me, Darren Holt,” I said. “Before you go back to Rome, you will do music with me—seriously. I want us belting out power ballads, and playing instruments until our fingers go numb.”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that,” he said. “There’s a lady present.”

  Leah grinned and did a humorous curtsey.

  Levity aside, I knew that what needed to be at the forefront of my brain was music. I needed to figure out how to get Darren to play with me. I needed to decide whether I was going to sign to the record label or not. I needed to find a tune that could carry some of the insane lyrics I’d written in the sky.

  I worried that if I wasn’t careful, my wants would overpower my needs.

  Chapter 23

  Darren

  After Bailey and I left her music studio, she took us around downtown Memphis to show me different places she liked to go for food, drinks, and shopping. There were too many places for her to choose from, so we mostly observed and moved along.

  I liked the vibe of the area. The people seemed pleasant while the atmosphere was chill but always moving, and there were plenty of places to see. If you lived in this area, you would always have something to do after work and on the weekends.

  But, like all big cities, there was an overabundance. There were way too many cars on the road, too many people crowding up restaurants and shops, and things were slightly more expensive. I was already growing to like Memphis a lot, but it didn’t change my attitude on how I felt about living in a big city.

  We got back to Bailey’s place as the sun was setting. We were both starving, and we decided we didn’t want to wait for something to be delivered to us. She offered to take us out for dinner, and I quickly agreed with the deal that I would pay for each subsequent dinner together after that.

  I drove us while Bailey acted as guide. I stopped to fill up her tank with gas and then continued down the mysterious streets. I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but it was fun. She sometimes pointed out a place that she and Leah liked to go to, or a place that played really cool music, or a place she’d always wanted to go to but hadn’t yet. I wanted to take her to some of those places during my stay.

  Despite the fact that I got to spend time with the most beautiful girl in Memphis, a girl that I’d dreamed about for years, I couldn’t fall in love with the idea of moving there.

  The restaurant we went to was a place called Ramone’s in downtown. It was a quaint little joint that felt like something out of the 1980’s. The lighting was dim, music was fantastic, and the food and drinks were killer.

  “Let me ask you something,” said Bailey as she sipped on her first cocktail.

  “Uh, oh.” I laughed.

  “If you were me,” she said. “What would you do to get famous?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “You have a song that’s climbing the music charts, and you’re starting to get some heat. what do you, Darren Holt, do with that heat? Do you pick the first label that comes your way because they could—maybe, possibly, likely but not certain—help you become a well-known artist that makes a living doing that exclusively? Or, do you wait it out, because something better might come along? When do you know that ‘better’ has come along?”

  “That’s quite a mouthful.”

  “I guess it’s no secret why I’m asking you these things,” she said.

  “If I were in your shoes, and people were blowing up my phone, which calls would I take,” I said.

  She laughed. “Exactly. Basically.”

  “What label is trying to sign you?” I asked her.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, it would matter to me.”

  “They’re small,” she said. “They only have three major artists that you’d know signed to them and lots of other smaller ones.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?” I said. “They’ve got legit clients. Sometimes you get an offer, and you don’t know whether you can trust them. Three major artists, I’d say you can trust them. That’s good.”

  “They’ll start to expect releases at certain points, and maybe I’m not going to be in the mood to write at a certain point in my life, you know?” she said. “I don’t really want to have a ‘boss.’ I wish I didn’t have to suffer a loss in my independence to have the kind of freedom they’re offering.”

  I cleared my throat, unsure of where I was headed with my speech as I finished my first alcoholic beverage.

  “First,” I began. “To answer your original convoluted question; if I were you, I wouldn’t make a major decision like the one you’re weighing based on a time restraint. I know you need to make up your mind here soon, but their goal is to make money. Your goal is to make a life from this, not just money. So, make sure it’s the right one.

  “Second, you don’t need to sign with those producers. You don’t need to sign with any producers. You can make your own music without any help whatsoever. You got your radio plays while dropping your tracks independently, right? You have already found phenomenal success by yourself. Maybe you need a major label—maybe you don’t.

  “The problem is, there aren’t any guarantees in anything. You always take chances in life, and sometimes things don’t work out the way you think they will or wa
nt them to. But, if you don’t try things because you’re afraid of the bad that could come of it, you’ll never try anything.”

  I felt a little preachy, but she seemed to have digested everything I gave her smoothly.

  “How’s your social media presence?” I asked her. “I don’t really follow much of that stuff.”

  “I have over 100,000 followers on Twitter and half a million on Instagram,” she said. “I get a lot of plays on music apps, too.”

  “See, you’ve already carved yourself an identity for people to get to know,” I said. “If you keep releasing independently, you’ll get to be whoever you want to be. They can’t tell you how to act, or what to wear.”

  “Or what to sing,” she finished.

  “Exactly,” I said. “If you have to debate this much with yourself over it, don’t you think that kind of gives you your answer?”

  She smiled, biting her fingers as she continued digesting my words.

  “If I were you, I’d dominate the world all by myself,” I finished.

  We got refills of our drinks and our bread bowl. We were listening to the music being played over the speakers. It was a techno song that I’d heard before but couldn’t place the title.

  “Where are we headed after this?” I asked her. “I saw a bakery near here. I’ll get us some dessert.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of taking you back to my place and fucking your hot cock.”

  Hearing her utter those words was enough to stiffen my cock instantly. I realized, at that exact moment, that was exactly what I wanted, too.

  “Oh, were you now?” I asked.

  She finished the rest of her drink. She gave me a piercing, sexy look.

  “I want to dominate you in bed,” she said quietly.

  “Believe me, I’d like that too,” I said eagerly. “But, I never agreed not to fall in love with you. Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep having sex?”

  “It’s probably a terrible idea,” she said. “But, I don’t give a shit. I want you so badly, and I thought I could wait a while, but I don’t want to wait one night. Let’s get back to my place and make love.”

  I looked around for our waiter. We laughed, growing more aroused by the minute.

  “If we aren’t careful, we’re never going to leave your apartment,” I said.

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “Not at all, I’m just saying that if we aren’t careful, I’m not going to want to leave your apartment. Being in that bed, with this woman, far away from home. I’ll tie your fine ass to the bed.”

  “Oh, will you now?” she said with amusement.

  Our waiter finally returned to our table. We didn’t notice him at first.

  “We never did try much of that really kinky stuff,” I said to Bailey.

  “Have you ever been handcuffed?” she asked me.

  “A few times.” I chuckled.

  “Will you guys be having any dessert tonight?” the waiter interjected.

  Bailey and I laughed.

  “I think we’re good, thanks,” I replied.

  We drove back to her place in silence. Although no words were being said, our body language communicated things clearly, as far as I was concerned.

  The lust between us was palpable. We didn’t touch, but the desire was there. Our mouths were agape and Baily was biting her bottom lip, clearly allowing our fantasies to get the better of us.

  We got out of the car and made our way from the parking garage up to her room. I let her lead the way, and I was watching her sexy ass as she walked.

  I thought back to what I said during dinner about falling in love. I thought about the hard truth that I’d been ignoring, poorly, and about how she most likely wouldn’t have found it much of a secret.

  I couldn’t fall in love with her during my trip, because I’d fallen for her a long time ago and hadn’t stopped. There was no woman I’d ever wanted more than her, and I was oddly okay with it. I wasn’t sure what the future had in store for us, but I wasn’t worried. The fact that she wanted me in Memphis with her was enough for me.

  We got back to her place. The apartment was very dark, with little streams of light coming in through the windows. I waited for her to turn on the lights inside, but she just kept walking.

  “Have a seat on the couch,” I heard her say in the dark. “I’ll be back.”

  I wasn’t sure what she had in store for me, but the intrigue was enough to stifle my hard truths. I would continue trying to hide my feelings.

  I sat down on the couch, waiting. Several minutes passed, and she’d barely made a sound. Occasionally I could hear footsteps, but I didn’t know what they were up to.

  “You remember the PJs I always wore over to your place for the longest time?” she asked through the darkness.

  “Sure! Beatles T-shirt and the purple pants with flowers on them.”

  “You are correct, sir!” she said. “Sadly, I lost my glorious Beatles shirt at some point a few years ago. I haven’t had the heart to get a new one.”

  “Oh, bummer.”

  My sadness ended abruptly. Bailey stepped toward me on the couch with no shirt or bra on, wearing the purple floral pants. The subtle light hit her body just right. Her voluptuous, soft breasts were practically glistening in the moonlight. Her tummy looked skinny, and her lips looked delicious.

  “And,” she said with a hint of satisfaction. “The pants have a pretty big hole in them. Take a guess where.”

  She climbed into my lap, wrapping her legs around me, and pressing her beautiful chest into mine. She ground her hips and ass into me, surely feeling me growing for her.

  “Oh, Darren,” she moaned. “Take me.”

  She took my hands and guided them to her bouncing breasts. To say that she was coming on hard to me would’ve been an understatement. She actually was craving dessert.

  Chapter 24

  Bailey

  I felt incredibly self-conscious, as I’d walked out into the living room to present my half-naked body to Darren on display. Even as I humped his body, feeling his erection grow with every move I made against it, I still felt insecure.

  After I’d let go of his hands, he started to gently yet firmly massage my chest, feeling my nipples between his fingers. He moved his hands onto my back and sucked my nipples into his mouth. He lightly nibbled on them, sucking them longingly while also rubbing my back. It was almost too much goodness to handle.

  He picked me up and lifted us both off the couch. He was holding me up into the air as easily as the airplane had. I felt like I was floating, except I knew it would turn into something else.

  He tossed me onto the bed. I rolled around like a child, messing around aimlessly and acting like a goofball. I looked over, seeing that Darren had removed all his clothes except for his boxers. He put his hand in his underwear and began playing with himself. He was already so hard.

  I gladly joined him in masturbation. I stuck my hand up the hole in my pants and began to massage my folds. I was getting off on him masturbating way more than I thought I would. I only had to lightly press on my G-spot to elicit my orgasm. As I moaned louder, he stroked his cock harder and faster.

  Once I’d completed, I started gently massaging my folds again. I looked over at Darren, hoping he could tell just how much I needed him inside me.

  He joined me on the bed, staring into the hole of my pants. I didn’t stop playing with myself, and he enjoyed every second of it.

  He grabbed onto my knees, and then slowly bent them further apart outward. This bend caused the tear in my pants to grow even wider.

  “Mmm,” I moaned. “You like stretching me out, don’t you?”

  With his face smiling and his dick throbbing, he penetrated me with his weapon. My pants were still on, tearing more as the night went on.

  His hands gripped my sides, and when he would ride me harder, he would grab onto my chest and squeeze while he fucked me. I loved how he wasn’t afraid to pay attention to my breasts, and d
idn’t stop pleasing me after giving me an orgasm.

  After of the intensity of his powerful thrusts, my walls came clambering down onto him. I cried out, causing him to burst within me.

  We lay there in bed, utterly spent. He embraced me, holding me close. I loved being back in his arms, but it didn’t help calm me down. Just feeling his warm skin pressed into mine was enough to keep me running.

  I rubbed my hands along his body. He kissed me all over. I would linger on certain areas of him, and his kisses would soften or include tongue depending on where they were. I loved feeling his hot breath run back and forth against my flesh.

  After several minutes of playing our devilish game, I eventually caved and sent my adventurous hands down to feel his hard cock.

  I tugged lightly on his dick with one hand and massaged his full balls with the other. He began to kiss my neck, focusing on certain spots near the base that he knew would draw out easy moans of ecstasy out of me.

  The bigger his penis grew for me, the slower and firmer I stroked him. He licked and nibbled on my neck. He nearly took my breath away when he surprised me during a bite by pressing his hand onto my clit.

  I wanted to put his throbbing dick back inside of me, but I knew that if I tugged on him a little while longer, I could get him to explode into my hands, which I always enjoyed doing.

  He growled, biting harder into my neck. He gently inserted one of his fingers inside of me.

  “If you’re not careful, you’re going to empty me, baby.” He moaned.

  I gave him a mischievous grin, raising my eyebrows and not stopping. I made it harder to stifle for both of us by kissing his lips. Our tongues danced together; frantically moving with the pace we were keeping with each other’s pulsating centers.

  We held a long kiss. And then, when we broke apart, he growled louder.

  “Don’t you fucking stop,” he ordered me. “Don’t slow down. Keep going, missy.”

  “Yes, sir.”