Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Roxy Sinclaire

  Epilogue-Amber

  “Are you sure?” I whispered to Diana.

  She nodded her head, “I checked three times Amber. The numbers don’t lie.” I sat back. I couldn’t believe the news that she had just told me. We were sitting in the shop a year after the Grand Nevada. Once Desmond and I had come home, she had been so excited to meet him that she had left work right away.

  It was great that she had been so excited; however, leaving your job at a hospital was frowned upon and she was fired. It hadn’t mattered though, business was booming at the shop and I was quickly able to give her a job working the books.

  “Wow, I can’t believe it.” I said again, “Its finally done. The shop is paid off.” She smiled at me, “That’s right, anything after this is just gravy.”

  “I don’t know what to do with myself now actually.” I told her earnestly.

  “I know what I would do, a long vacation, say, about a year?” she said with a playful wink.

  I rolled my eyes, I knew what my sister was talking about but I didn’t know if I was ready for the rest of the world to know. I would have to start talking soon. I heard the men in the shop laughing and recognized a voice above all the rest.

  Desmond was there to pick me up for a romantic weekend and I was definitely ready for it. We had both been working so hard at the shop that we needed a little vacation. Maybe Diana was right, maybe I should take a long trip with him.

  I kissed my sister on the cheek and dashed from the office to meet Desmond. Things with us were just the same as always. He was still in love with me and I was still in love with him. Everything about our relationship was perfect and I was worried that things were going to change. We had never talked about having more than just what we had now.

  “Ready?” he said with a smile.

  I nodded my head and followed him out to climb into Theresa—she was the best car in the world and we took her everywhere we went. As we drove through the streets and into the country, I knew that I would have the start talking to him soon. I started with the good news about the shop.

  “Really?” he said, as excited as I had been.

  “Yep.” I replied.

  “So what now? Keep working?” he asked, ready to do anything I wanted.

  “I don’t know; I was thinking about taking a real vacation.” I said to him.

  “Wow, you taking a vacation? I don’t believe it!” he said playfully.

  I laughed, “It was just an idea. Do you have any family you would want to see?”

  I knew the answer, but I thought it would be a great way to lead into everything. He looked at me with a strange smile but played along.

  “No, not really. You know that I was an only child and my parents died. I mean,” he continued, “I’m sure that I have family somewhere, but I have never known them and I don’t really want to start now. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” I lied. “Have you ever thought about having a family?”

  He smiled, “Well, sure I have thought about it. I mean, who wouldn’t want another dozen kids like you running around the shop right? We could put them to work all day and never have to lift a finger again. I mean, I am not pushing you or anything. I think that we should get married or talk about the future before anything like that. Right?”

  My heart sank, “Oh. Right.”

  “Hey? What’s wrong? Why do you ask?” he asked.

  “Well ... um ... I just found out that I’m pregnant.” I said to him softly.

  The car skidded and pulled off to the side of the road with a roaring stop. I jerked forward, my hands resting on the dash. I looked at him in shock. I hadn’t expected that sort of reaction but I guess it was my own fault.

  You probably shouldn’t tell someone they are going to be a father while they are driving a race car down the road. Looking back, it seemed like a really bad idea.

  “Are you kidding?” he asked me.

  “No, of course not.” I said to him.

  I had hoped that he would be excited but it was starting to look like he was going to be angrier than anything. It broke my heart to think that he wasn’t excited about being a father.

  Maybe it wasn’t about being a father. Maybe it was just being the father of my child. I couldn’t believe that though, he loved me and I loved him. A child wouldn’t change that; it would only make our world even better.

  “Amber, this is wonderful news!” he said to me in a hushed tone.

  “Really?” I said, my heart starting to skip.

  “Of course! It makes everything just perfect!” He all but yelled at me.

  I was a little confused, I already thought that everything we had was perfect. He was even the one who surprised me with a weekend getaway to celebrate our one-year anniversary.

  Everything was going better than planned. He worked at the shop with me, learning as he went and helping as much as he could. It was easy to teach him though. He was such a fast learner that he made working together easy.

  Everyone at the shop had loved him as soon as they met him and it was easy to understand why. He was a different person off the track. He was friendly and loving with everyone he met. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of my dad. Even my sister had noticed how much he was like him but on a larger scale. My father had helped all the people that he could, even on his shoestring budget. Desmond didn’t have that problem but it was a secret he kept well.

  The only person who knew about his wealth beside me was my sister and she was more than happy to let him help her out. Still, he had wanted to help me and I refused. My father had worked so hard to build the shop and now I was thrilled that I had stuck to my guns about it.

  Knowing that I had paid off his shop without any financial help was an amazing feeling. As I looked at him, my eyes filled with joy. He had made me the happiest woman alive and I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted his love for me.

  “Amber, the reason why I wanted us to go away this weekend was so that I could ask you something,” he said to me.

  I held my breath, I thought I knew where he was going with this but I couldn’t believe it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. When he opened it, I saw a glimmering green emerald. It was absolutely perfect in every way. My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to beat right out of my chest.

  “Amber, will you marry me?” he asked me softly.

  I couldn’t find the words to speak. I wanted to scream, yes! I wanted to shout it from the top of the world but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Instead, I just nodded my head, tears flowing down my cheeks freely as he slipped the ring from the box and slid it onto my hand. I knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for.

  For once in my life, I couldn’t wait to share my personal life with the whole world. I wanted to call my sister and tell her the great news. More than anything though, I just wanted to tell Desmond how much I loved him and how happy he made me. Catching my breath, I looked into his eyes and smiled.

  “Desmond, you have made me so happy. We are going to have a wonderful life. I am going to be your wife and our baby will have a loving home. You have given me everything I have ever wanted. I love you so much.” I said to him.

  For the first time, I saw tears glistening in his eyes and I wanted to kiss them away. I knew they were tears of joy. It was a joy that I shared with him. Knowing that our world was going to change forever wasn’t frightening anymore. I would have Desmond by my side the entire time and nothing could break us apart. Our future was going to be with each other.

  “So, what were you saying about taking a longer vacation?” he asked me.

  “Well, I was thinking that, with everything going on, maybe I could leave the shop alone for a while. I think that Diana knows what she is doing. With it paid off, we can leave without having to worry about the bills.

  She has really taken a shine to the place too. I have never seen her do so well. Even when she was a nurse, she
didn’t thrive as well as she did running the office end of things.” I said to him.

  He pulled back out onto the road and smiled, “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I know that you love the shop, and I do too. But, I would really like to spend some time together before everything changes for us, for the better though.”

  “I think it will do us a lot of good,” I replied.

  “So, did you have anywhere in mind?” he asked me.

  I smiled at him, “I hear Nevada is nice this time of year.”

  We both laughed as Theresa carried us down the road. It didn’t matter where we were going now, all that mattered was that we were going to be together forever. Desmond, me, the baby and Theresa. The perfect family.

  Thank You

  Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality

  Please see her Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of her titles.

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  Also by Roxy Sinclaire

  Bad Boys To The Core: 10 Book Box Set

  Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

  The Devil’s Dream: A Dark Romance

  Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

  Deceived By The Hitman: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

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  Excerpts:

  Excerpt from Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

  “I’m a Yoga instructor”

  I didn’t ask her what she did, but I’m glad she shared. I was on the fence about going home with her. But now that I know she spends her days working on her body and training it to stretch in weird and wonderful ways, I am sold.

  Whiskey alone isn’t cutting it after a day like today. An evening of fun with a limber and eager blonde is exactly what I need to get back on my game. I close out the tab and lead her out onto the street. These kinds of after hours’ bars exist for hook-ups.

  “Is your place close?” I ask.

  “Just three blocks from here.”

  “Great; we’ll walk.”

  This hook-up is just what the doctor ordered. Not just because I’m not my usual charming self when I don’t get laid everyday but because I need to get that smoking brunette out of my head, and the best way I know to shake trouble is to have a bout of no holds-barred sex with a hot woman who is ready, willing, and able.

  Yoga girl is all of the above. And it doesn’t matter that I can’t remember her name as long as it isn’t Aria.

  The night air feels good and she’s up for walking, which I’m thankful for. I like a clear head both in myself, and the woman I’m going to have sex with. She lives in a walk-up that is, in fact, exactly three blocks from the bar. She is all over me the moment we enter the stairwell. She strokes my growing erection over my jeans, with almost too much enthusiasm.

  “Whoa there, let’s slow this down,” I tell her.

  The stairwell is damp and smells rank. I can hear the infamous New York rats scurrying across the cement landing we are on. I hope the state of the stairs is not a sign of things to come in her apartment.

  “I don’t want to slow down,” she whines but she does, nonetheless, take her hand off my crotch.

  We arrive at her door and she starts pawing at me again. I resist the urge to push her off of me. I may have been premature in believing this is what I need tonight. But I’m here, and she’s hot for me. It would be a shame to let the whole evening go to waste.

  “Ooh, your muscles are so big,” she coos in my ear.

  If I had a dollar for every time a girl told me that, I wouldn’t need to strip anymore.

  “That’s right baby. Open the door and you can feel them for yourself.”

  I really want to get out of the hallway and into her apartment. This building is like something from a novel, documenting the plight of immigrants in the 1940s.

  She doesn’t turn any lights on but leads me straight to her bedroom. In one swift movement, her little black dress is off and on the floor. She has nothing on underneath and I am at full attention.

  “What’s taking you so long?” She makes a move for my jeans.

  “Take it easy, baby.” Did she ever tell me her name?

  She crawls up onto the bed and faces me. She crosses her arms under her jutting breasts and props them up high to emphasize her cleavage.

  “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she pouts.

  I want her to stop talking, but I get her point. I don’t want to wait anymore either.

  I join her on the bed and gently push her on to her back. I start at her high perky breasts and slowly explore my way down her flat stomach. She writhes and moans with abandon beneath me.

  “Go down on me, go down on me. I need to come.”

  This girl is ripe for the picking, but I’m not even close to ready to bring her to climax. I slow my route to her slit, and cup her breasts. Her nipples are as hard and peaked as the Himalayas and I pinch them with just enough pressure to make her yelp for more. She flings one of her long toned legs behind her head and rubs her wet pussy against my chest. With such easy access being granted, I have no choice but to go down and give her the release she has been begging for. She moans and yells so loud, I fear a neighbor will call the police. I hold her leg in place behind her head and roll on a condom with one hand and then thrust into her.

  I feel my own release coming and with it, my misgivings over the exchange with Aria begin disappearing. What does it matter in the end? I will never see her again and under no circumstances will I ever open myself up like that to another woman.

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding a staccato drumbeat against my ribs. I had that damn recurring dream again. Correct that; I had that damn recurring nightmare again. It’s always the same. I wake up in the dingy small bedroom of my youth; the twin bed, film and band posters on the wall, stained ceiling. My mom and dad’s trailer, the only home I knew for the first seventeen years of my life. In the nightmare, I am right back there and the last five years have all been a fantasy. I’m still pale, skinny, broke, and most of all, clueless about girls.

  I take in the unfamiliar surroundings, and breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not the trailer. Then I curse myself for not going home after the evening’s entertainment. Once sex was over and yoga girl was fast asleep in sexed-out bliss, I should have hit the road. But uncharacteristically, I fell asleep. Now, here I am, still in her bed, and she has her legs wrapped around me so tightly that it’s like waking up with a boa constrictor using me as a pillow.

  Despite my desire to escape before she wakes up, morning wood is getting the better of me. Especially when I can’t help but recall how she flung her leg behind her head so I could have better access to her damp entrance when I went down on her. So yeah, last night was hot, but not so hot that I don’t regret staying the night.

  She is starting to stir, which means it’s time to make my escape. She rolls onto her back and I allow myself a last appreciative look at her toned body before I jump out of bed.

  Fortune favors me this morning and I am dressed and out of the bedroom without the yoga superstar waking up. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that I spent the night here after all. I leave her a short but sweet note on the entry table, to thank her for an unforgettable experience. And I am out of there. If I remember our walk here last night correctly, I am only a couple of blocks from my favorite coffee shop and then two more blocks from my own apartment.
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br />   If you told me when I was seventeen and still living in my parent’s trailer that I would have a glass-walled steam shower in an apartment in Manhattan, I wouldn’t have believed it. My parents and I shared a bathroom and by the time I got my turn, there was no hot water left and never any water pressure.

  If someone told me that my morning routine would include shaving and buffing my entire body, and I mean absolutely every part of my body, I would think the person completely insane. But things change, and for the better. My body is my business now and I have to take care of every aspect of it.

  I love my apartment and I love that it is just me living here. It is a one bedroom, and has an open floor plan. The space isn’t huge, but it’s not like I will need a larger place. I intend to stay single and this place suits me perfectly.

  I never bring women back to my place. I don’t care that it would only be for a night. This is my sanctuary and I don’t need some desperate chick showing up at my door looking for seconds, or worse, a relationship. I’m not saying that no one from the club or bar has managed to track me down, but I like to keep it difficult.

  It’s already eleven by the time I finish in the bathroom. Now mind you, all that time is not spent on getting myself perfect for the club. When you work as late as I do, eleven is breakfast time. I whip up an omelet and some bacon. I almost always have an omelet in the morning. Not just because it’s the best food to cure a hangover and gets me fueled for the gym, but because it’s the one thing my mom would make for my dad and me on the rare Sunday morning when everyone was home. Her omelets consisted of as many eggs as she had and whatever was in the fridge. My friend Juan told me that his mom did the same thing only she called it, “juevos rancheros” instead of “omelets du jour.” It wasn’t until I moved to the city that I learned “du jour” meant “of the day,” or in trailer park speak, “whatever is on sale at the market.”