Jet

by Vivian Gray

  But wanting her like this. He wasn’t supposed to want this. He had way too much on his plate already. And this was no life to bring a woman into. Not when you cared about her. Every time he saw her, he told himself that this would be the last time. Every time, he found himself making sure she’d be coming back the next night.

  He wrapped up with Brass and headed out to the club. The doors were still shut as his team got ready for the night, and there were a couple new singers and dancers lined up to audition for him and Josephine, the big Black woman who served as his front end manager. Trisha, a Latinx girl with bright red streaks running through her dark brown curls, was working with a new waitress, showing her the ropes and the more simple drinks she’d be expected to pour.

  He went to his booth and relaxed. Caroline would bring him out some dinner soon, and he’d watch the auditions and give his feedback later. He imagined people knew who he was, but he liked to let others run the business while he ran them. It made for a cleaner operation, overall.

  When Bree walked through the front door, his cock snapped to attention. Weeks, and he was still just as hard for her as he’d been the first time he saw her.

  She was dressed in what he now thought of as school clothes: leggings, a stretch skirt, and a cute T-shirt that managed to hide all the softness of her perky tits. She looked mousey, but nowhere near as nervous as she had been that night. When she’d given him her virginity, she’d gained something herself. He liked to see the brightness that was shining through her now.

  “Come here,” he said, shifting in the booth so that she could plop down on his lap. She did so, which put her at the perfect height for him to bury his face in her boobs.

  “Jet,” she said, laughing and trying to push him away.

  No, that isn’t going to happen. He bit the mounded flesh, hard enough that it would leave the faintest of marks. He expected her to whimper and apologize, but instead, she gasped and shifted, pressing against his cock in the very best way.

  “My goodness. Are we a hungry girl tonight?”

  “I woke up horny,” Bree replied, her voice a little breathy. “I didn’t have time to take care of it before class. And I kept thinking of you.”

  “And what were you thinking of?”

  He could feel the heat of the blush spreading up her body as he kept licking and nipping at the tops of her breasts. He skimmed one hand into her bra, lifting out her nipple so he could bite at that too.

  “Jet,” she whimpered, but she was shifting again, and his cock was twitching under her. “People can see.”

  Mmm, that was the wrong thing for her to say. He slid them farther back into the booth, which made her relax, but then he turned her body so that she was sitting directly across his lap. He was hidden in shadow, but her face was right under the light over the table, perfectly visible.

  “No. Now people can see.” He pushed her skirt up and nudged her thighs apart – she knew better than to try and close them – and ran his fingers over her slit and mound while she whimpered more.

  “What are you going to do?” Her voice was nervous, whimpering, but the soft movements of her body against his cock hadn’t stopped. He felt the heat of her pussy through her leggings, and she spread her thighs a little more to give him better access.

  “Oh. You’ll see.” She was too hungry to be teased like this. He pulled her in tighter against him, close enough that he could wrap one arm around her and lift her breast out, tweaking and teasing that nipple with his fingers. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to bite it again, not like this, but oh well. The rest of what he had in mind would have to do.

  He slid his hand inside her leggings – no panties to push aside, his girl was horny today – and as soon as he pressed her slit open, he felt the wetness of her juices soaking his fingertips.

  “Jet…” Her hips bucked, and he took that moment to pull her leggings down farther, baring her ass and giving his hand more room at her cunt.

  “Hush. You know you love it when people are watching you.”

  She didn’t say anything, just let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing, her thighs falling apart. He could get two fingers inside of her without even working at it now, and she made a soft sound against him. At this angle, he wouldn’t be able to fuck her properly, so he’d have to just be brutal. He gave her no real warning, just slammed his fingers into her wet and eager cunt. She cried out, her hands clenching, and both Trisha and Josephine looked in their direction.

  Jet choked back a laugh. “I don’t mind at all if they see, baby girl, but if you don’t want them coming over to investigate, I’d tone it down just a little. Trisha would definitely try to join in.”

  Her hands were clenching hard, one tangled in his shirt, the other just fisted on the leather of the booth. He kept up the pace in her cunt, feeling her tighten and spasm as the pleasure twisted her up. He was merciless as he used her, feeling his cock throb under her ass. God, if she were just a little less new at all of this, he’d make her ride him right here, under the lights, knowing that Trisha and Josephine would be looking over and grinning, thinking nothing more of it than Jet’s usual antics.

  She came all of a sudden, faster than he’d expected, suddenly clenching down around his fingers. He kept working them into her, forcing her through the tension into the release. She crammed her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming, and he grinned. Another day, he would have pulled her fist down himself; today, he’d let her have it. For now, anyway.

  When the tension broke, her cunt squeezing rhythmically around his fingers as she sagged into his arms, he couldn’t stop grinning. When she glanced up at him, he made a show out of bringing his soggy fingers up to his mouth and sucking them clean. She groaned softly, her eyes tracking his fingers. He knew that look. She liked a good finger bang, but it was his cock she craved.

  “You want me to take you upstairs?”

  She nodded, not quite back to her words yet.

  He pinched her breast, and she jumped. “Not yet. You have homework to do, and I have paperwork to do. And next time, remember, you’ll be sucking me off underneath the table while I do it.”

  She gave a little shiver that made his cock even harder in his pants. He would have to get some release soon, or he’d be aching all night long. But that was alright. He’d found more than one way to use her without needing to take her up to bed.

  She slid off his lap, straightening her leggings and resettling her breast in her bra. He watched her, just enjoying himself, the way she moved, and the intense sense of craving her that ran through him, over and over.

  He was in so much fucking trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  It was morning, and Bree had spent the night at the clubhouse again. The alarm on her phone had gone off early, but when she woke up, she had a text saying her professor had the flu, and that class was canceled. The syllabus gave a couple of chapters to read and an assignment to complete online; Bree considered curling up with Jet and sleeping some more, but her stomach was still churning.

  When she thought of lying back down, it flipped over hard; she scrambled out of bed and tore across the living room, hitting her knees in the bathroom just before she got painfully sick. When it passed, she leaned back, wiping her mouth with a tissue. Had she eaten something the night before? She hadn’t really been drinking much, so it wasn’t a hangover. But this wasn’t the only time she’d been randomly sick; she’d felt queasy every time she’d eaten for a couple days, and had to run out of class a few days back because she’d gotten sick. Maybe she was coming down with a bug?

  A chill ran down her spine. She started counting back. When had she last had to deal with tampons? A couple weeks before the auction, she’d made sure to time it like that so she wouldn’t end up with a surprise period and need to back out and—

  Fuck. Oh fuck.

  She’d had a vague plan of asking the guy who bought her that night to use a condom, but things had happened so fast with Jet, and then
she really hadn’t thought too much about it. And that had been... six weeks ago.

  Oh crap. She was four weeks late. That... didn’t happen. Well, it did, but only for one reason.

  Bree rinsed her mouth and tried to breathe slowly. Nausea was rising again, but she had the idea now that it was for a very different reason. She needed to not stay in the bathroom indefinitely; she knew that much. Jet tended to sleep hard, but if he had woken up, he’d come make sure she was alright, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to answer questions right now. She needed to figure out what she was going to say – and do – before she started blurting out things she wasn’t going to end up meaning.

  She ducked back into the bedroom for her backpack. She got dressed quickly while she was there, pulling on her jeans and a clean bra and shirt. Suddenly her brain was desperate to find “signs”. Was it harder to button her jeans than normal? Was her bra a little too tight? What else was she likely to notice?

  Jet was still sound asleep. Part of her was desperate to wake him up and tell him what was making her so afraid. She was fairly sure he’d be supportive and a good guy. He’d probably take her to the pharmacy to buy a test, and hold her hand while she figured out what to do.

  But what if he wasn’t? What did she really know about this guy after less than two months? He looked gorgeous while he was sleeping, she knew that much. But that wasn’t the point right now.

  Bree called herself a coward as she tossed her backpack over her shoulder and stepped out of the room. She locked the apartment door behind her and waited until she was halfway down the stairs before she sent a text to his phone: Hey handsome, I’m downstairs doing some reading, class got canceled, see you when you wake up.

  The notification wouldn’t wake him, but he’d know where she was when he woke so he wouldn’t worry. Perfect middle ground. Perfect way to get some space and think something. She needed coffee. Wait, was she allowed to have coffee? Thank God for Google.

  Google, it turned out, couldn’t make up its mind. She read half a dozen articles; three said a cup of coffee a day was fine, three said that coffee would ruin her pregnancy. God, how could she even be thinking a word like that?

  When she burst into tears, all she could think was that being emotional was also a sign of pregnancy, and then she cried even harder.

  She tried to keep it quiet, but there was just too much, and it was all spilling out at once. She kept wiping her eyes and hoping no one would notice, but that just wasn’t going to happen. The club itself wouldn’t have customers for hours, but the restaurant on the other side of the swinging doors was open, and the waitstaff was busy moving through, plus the managers and workers in the club were going about their daily duties.

  Trisha plopped right down into the other side of the booth without saying a single word. Bree hadn’t managed to get up the courage and make friends with the pretty woman yet, but she’d admired her dark brown complexion and red tipped curls from across the room plenty of times. Right now, Trisha’s hair was pulled up into a loose bun, and her clothes were basic jeans and a floral blouse. It had fascinated Bree since her first night at the club – how these women could go from every day pretty into complete glam girls with subtle changes to their makeup, hair, and dress.

  “Man troubles?” Trisha’s voice was sympathetic.

  Bree tried to shake her head but then nodded. “Well, not exactly. I just... I don’t know what to do.”

  Trisha was putting out a heavy mom vibe in a way Bree’s own mother had never quite managed. “Tell me about it? What has Jet done now?”

  “It’s not exactly – There’s not really anything he did.” Except he had, hadn’t he? She hadn’t asked him to get a condom, but he certainly hadn’t suggested it either. So it wasn’t like she’d ended up here on her own.

  Trisha’s expression suddenly snapped from quiet concern to surprised understanding. She tamped the surprise down quickly, but Bree had seen it fly by. “Are you knocked up?”

  “I’m not sure. But... probably.”

  “How late are you?”

  Bree had to force her hands to stop shaking. “About a month, I think? And I just want a cup of coffee, but I don’t know if I can have coffee, and if I’m that – pregnant – then I’ve already screwed so many things up! Aren’t you supposed to take special vitamins? And I had a beer last night. And I’m stressed! I’m ruining its life already.” A fresh wave of sobs poured out of her, and Bree gave up trying to control herself, just putting her head down on her arms and letting the tears happen.

  She heard Trisha scooting around on the leather, and felt the other woman’s hand rest on her shoulder. Bree didn’t shrug it off, and after a moment, Trisha started to gently stroke Bree’s hair and back.

  “Hey,” she murmured. “Hey. I get it, okay? You’re not alone right now. I’m gonna help you figure this out, if you want me to. Do you want me to?”

  Bree reflected for just a moment. She hardly knew Trisha, but she didn’t want to be alone right now. She was terrified of being alone right now. And she knew she’d need to tell Jet what was going on eventually, but right now, she wanted the company of another woman, someone who had an idea of what she was going through, even if she’d never gone through it herself. She nodded.

  “Okay,” Trisha said. Her voice was gentle but firm. “So, first of all. One or two beers now and then isn’t particularly dangerous, but you’re right that you probably shouldn’t have more. A cup of coffee is definitely fine. My baby sister had her third kid last month, and I was there through the whole thing. And yeah, the vitamins are good, but they’re not the be-all end-all of things. I promise.”

  Bree felt the tension in her body cycling down just a little bit.

  “Now, you’re usually pretty regular?”

  Bree managed another nod. The tears were tapering off; she was mostly just glad she hadn’t put any makeup on this morning. She was going to be a red-eyed wreck regardless, but at least she wouldn’t also have makeup halfway down her cheeks.

  “So, yeah. Time to test and make sure. And then I can call my sister – get the name of her OB. Great lady. No matter what you decide to do from here.”

  Bree all but bolted upright. “I’m keeping it. He can – I don’t know what Jet’s going to do when he finds out. But I’m keeping it.”

  Trisha nodded. “Okay. Then let’s go to the pharmacy. I’ll drive. Okay?”

  Bree agreed. Even if she’d had a car, getting behind the wheel of a car when she was nauseated and shaking from tears seemed like a terrible idea, even to her.

  ***

  Bree stood in front of the row of pregnancy tests and shook her head. “Why are there so many kinds? Don’t you just... pee on them?”

  Trisha shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her phone again and sighed. “My sister says that if you’re as pregnant as we think, it literally doesn’t matter which one you pick, they’ll all show positive. They’re only finicky if you’re super early.”

  Bree sighed and stared for another minute, then grabbed one of the few boxes that weren’t so bright pink. Her cheeks were bright red as she hurried to the front of the store, resisting the urge to buy a dozen other random things just so no one would think that she went to the pharmacy just to buy a pregnancy test. As if it wasn’t a totally normal thing that people did a hundred times a day.

  She glanced at the checkout clerk, then turned firmly towards the self-checkout kiosks. No way was she subjecting herself to someone else’s staring – even if it was imaginary – if she didn’t absolutely have to. She resisted the urge to stuff the test inside three bags – just so no one would know what it was – and turned towards Trisha again once they were outside the store.

  “What now?”

  Trisha smiled almost gently. “Now we go somewhere you can pee.”

  After some debate, they went back to the clubhouse. Bree argued that she could just go back into the store and use their restroom, but Trisha was absolutely adamant that Bree c
ould not learn whether or not she was pregnant in a public restroom. Trisha had a small room with a separate bathroom in the back of the club; when she’d been one of the working girls with the club, she’d used it for clients who’d paid for more than an hour of her time, but now she lived there while she managed certain aspects of the club’s business. Bree was firm that she absolutely could not see Jet until she knew for sure, but once Trisha explained that she had a private door, Bree agreed.

  At Trisha’s apartment, Bree’s nerve faltered. She was pregnant, or she wasn’t. The test wasn’t going to make her pregnant if she wasn’t, but it was going to tell her whether or not she was. If she weren’t, she’d wait, and if her period didn’t show up eventually, she’d see a doctor to find out what was happening. If she was, she needed to talk to Jet and do the same thing – see if he wanted to be a part of what happened next, or whether he was just... well, just in it for the sex. It wasn’t like they’d committed to each other or something; as far as she knew, he considered her a good piece of ass and would dump her the second he knew.