The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  I wind my arms around his neck, holding him close as his plundering tongue awakens nerve endings in my chest and makes my nipples harden and tingle.

  I battle against the need to move, to squirm against him, concentrating instead on matching his kiss with one of my own.

  His hands glide up and down my sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and I shudder. My body arches toward Jeremy, eager to learn what else he has in store for it. For me. Craving the next step.

  Jeremy steals another intense kiss that practically turns my bones to liquid. He smiles against my lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

  The words are nice, but they’re not what I want right now. Eager to silence him, I deepen the kiss, burying my fingers in his hair. My tongue flicks against his, teasing it before I nip his bottom lip.

  He rewards me with a deep, guttural groan, His hands settle at my waist, his grip tight as I press myself against him. I feel his cock continuing to swell and pulse against my thigh, indisputable proof that he’s as turned on as I am.

  He tears his mouth from mine. Before I can protest the loss, he trails a string of kisses along my jaw and down my neck, pausing to explore my pounding pulse point and the hollow of my throat. Each touch of his lips against my skin brings nerve endings to life, and each of these newly discovered nerves seems share a direct connection with my pussy which spasms desperately as I writhe against his rock-hard body.

  I’m drowning in wave after wave of heady sensations that I can’t begin to describe.

  His mouth slides lower until he captures my right nipple between his teeth. My shoulders jerk on the couch while my fingers claw at his scalp.

  My breast is so sensitive I can feel the corners of his mouth curve into a smile. “Easy,” he mutters. “Just relax. Let me take care of you. It’ll be better, this time.”

  Easy for him to say. His body isn’t being assaulted by a flood of liquid heat that threatens to sweep it under.

  His left hand slides lower, nudging my shaking thighs apart. Before I can guess his intent, he brushes his fingers, his touch featherlight, between my legs, testing the dampness that’s been pooling there since before he first kissed me.

  My hips jerk and buck against his hand even as my thighs fall apart, granting him better access.

  Jeremy’s mouth moves to my left nipple as his fingers continue exploring the sensitive flesh between my thighs, gently prodding and testing, each brush of his fingertip against my skin increasing the tension building inside of me. A deep pulsing rhythm takes over my body. I have no choice but to lay back and follow its beat.

  He takes my nipple between his teeth, sucking and pulling at it while his fingers find my very center, setting off a mini-explosion.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and gasp. “Oh my God.”

  Jeremy’s free hand comes up and toys with my right nipple while his left hand keeps me balanced on the edge of a precipice I don’t fully understand.

  The pulsing rhythm grows stronger. It vibrates throughout my entire body, so strong, so demanding, I can’t think of anything else.

  I’m so caught up in the various sensations rolling through my body, I barely notice Jeremy changing positions until the head of his enormous member bumps against my opening. I tense. My eyes fly open, meeting his. He soothes me with a kiss, and a murmured nothing;

  My fingers dig into the thick muscles roping his upper arms. One of Jeremy’s hands rests on my lower belly, dipping lower, finding my secret nub and rolling it between his fingers, sending a fresh wave of liquid fire rolling through me.

  I yell, the words a jumble of unintelligible nonsense, and arch my back.

  Jeremy uses the opportunity to enter me in one long, smooth thrust.

  He rains kisses, some sweet, some hot and demanding, on my chest while I breathe deeply and try to adjust to the feel of his shaft against my inner walls. I’m still sore, but I don’t want him to stop…

  Gradually, the slight discomfort fades and my hips roll in a slow figure eight, taking him even deeper within me. Pleasure rockets through me. I bite down on Jeremy’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle my moan.

  It’s all he needs to start moving. He slowly thrusts in and out of me, starting out slowly but quickly gaining speed and power as my body undulates around his shaft, welcoming the friction. My moans drive him onto a faster pace. I’m lost in a world where the only thing that matters is my ability to feel all the wonderful things he’s doing to my body. It’s both exhilarating and a little frightening.

  My body screams for more.

  His fingers slip between my legs, once again touching my nub, but this time it’s too much and my body shatters while my inner walls clamp down on him.

  I scream as one wave of ecstasy after another crash through me. I’m powerless to fight them and wouldn’t even if I could. They’re like nothing I ever imagined – before him.

  “Good girl,” Jeremy cries, even as his muscles bunch and his face tightens. He thrusts deep and then stills, just for a moment, before his back arches and he empties himself into me.

  Aftershocks continue rocking my body as he collapses on top of me, burying his face in my shoulder.

  He should be crushing me, but he’s not. In fact, I welcome his weight and find the continued contact soothing. I stroke his back as I wait for my body to cool down and for coherent thought to return.

  24

  Jeremy

  Caitlin sighs but doesn’t wake as I slide my hands under her warm body and lift her up and into my arms. She rolls against my chest and continues to sleep as I carry her from the living room to her bedroom.

  I get her settled before sliding under the covers and tug her close. A second later the mattress shifts as Sasha jumps up to join us. The moonlight streaming through the window provides just enough illumination for me to see her shoot me a reproachful glare before she circles three times and settles on the foot of the bed.

  I slide my hand down Caitlin’s body until it covers the very space where the child we’re trying to create will slowly grow until it’s ready to come out and see the real world.

  Caitlin’s earlier words rattle around my brain, the sound too loud for me to ignore.

  “I know how important having a baby is to Caldwell Industries."

  Since signing that contract, neither of us has really sat down and talked about what the future holds for us. In order to meet the terms of the contract, once we’re married, we’ll stay together for one year after the baby is born, at which point if one of us isn’t happy or wants something different from life, we’ll separate from one another – but still work together to raise the child.

  At the time, the only thing I was thinking about was gaining control of the business and protecting my employees, but things have changed. Since signing the contract, Caitlin and I have had some time, we’ve gotten to know one another, and I like to think that we’ve become close friends, and sometimes, it feels like whatever is between us goes deeper than friendship. I’m starting to rely on her.

  The change in our relationship has also caused my thoughts about our possible child to change. When Caitlin told me she might be pregnant, a bolt of pure joy rocked through me. While waiting for the results of the pregnancy test to form, I realized that having a baby for business purposes is not only wrong, but it’s also a little bit crazy. Okay, more than just a little bit.

  But having a baby because it’s truly wanted, that’s another story altogether. And truthfully, that’s the way I’m beginning to feel.

  25

  Evan

  I stare at the cheap plastic wand in my hand and try to force my will on it, to get the information to change, but in this case, there’s nothing I can do. The results are negative.

  I raise my eyes and look at the thin brunette standing just a few feet away from me in the cell.

  “How hard can it possibly be to get pregnant?” I fume. “All you have to do is lay there. I’m the one doing all the work at this stage. And we k
now that you can get pregnant. You and your ex-husband have a kid.”

  She wrings her hands and her eyes dart toward the door. I shift my position, blocking her perceived escape route. We’re going to finish this conversation one way or another.

  I throw the useless pregnancy test aside. Sheila and I watch as it lands on the floor beside the garbage can. She bends and picks it up, the movement causing her scrubs to pull tight across her curvy ass. My cock twitches. That’s one thing I’ll say about Sheila: she’s got a great body. One designed to pleasure a man.

  She shoves the test into her pocket, probably because she doesn’t want anyone, including the janitorial staff, stumbling across it.

  “It takes time,” she says. “These things don’t always happen on the first try. It’s not like we’re teenagers who seem to get pregnant at the drop of a hat anymore.”

  I close the space between us and wrap my hands around her upper arms, pushing her back against the wall.

  “You and your kid better hope it doesn’t take too much time, because if you’re not knocked up by the time I get out of this place, I’ll look for someone who’s more fertile to fuck. Then where will the two of you be?”

  I shove her scrub pants and panties down to her ankles and slide a hand between her legs. Moisture, hot and musky scented, coats my fingertips. That’s another thing I will say about Sheila: her body is always ready and willing for me, despite the fact that neither of us can actually stand the other.

  She reaches for me, unfastening the front of my pants and freeing my cock before lifting her right leg and hooking it around my left hip. I slide balls deep into her in one hard move. The force moves her up the wall a few inches. She grunts but her hips meet mine, matching me thrust for thrust until my cum fills her.

  “You’d better hope that this time”–I whisper in her ear, my voice harsh as my cock softens and slips free of her warm, wet channel—“my seed finds a target, because you’re running out of time.”

  26

  Caitlin

  I sip the ice-cold water, swishing it around my mouth before spitting it out and into the sink.

  “Honey, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” My mother places the back of her hand against my forehead, checking for a temperature the same way she did when I was a kid. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.

  I pull away from her. “I’m fine, Mom.” I lean close to the mirror, checking the front of the huge blue sweatshirt I stole from Jeremy and am wearing as protection for my gown. I don’t see any flecks of vomit on the collar or down the front of the shirt. That’s a good sign.

  My mom wrings her hands. “You’re right; it’s probably just pre-wedding nerves.”

  “Is that what it is, Caitlin?” Aunt Janet, my mom’s sister and Jeremy’s PA, slants a meaningful glance toward my stomach. She’s one of only a handful of people who know about the baby race Jeremy, his brother Evan, and I are engaged in, and I get the impression she’s enjoying being in on the secret.

  I aim a warning glare in her direction. If either of my parents ever learn the real reason I’m getting married … I don’t even want to think about how they’ll react. “It’s nerves. And maybe a touch of the flu that’s been going around.”

  It takes all of my self-control to keep my hands off my stomach. This is the second day that I’ve been sicker than the proverbial dog and, while I suppose it’s possible that it really is the flu or nerves, I’m hoping with every iota of my being that it’s more. That at this exact instant there’s a tiny cluster of cells growing in my womb, dividing and multiplying at this very moment, growing into a child that I’ll be able to hold in my arms and call my own in a little under nine months.

  I can’t imagine a wedding gift that Jeremy and I would enjoy more.

  “You’re right.” My mom pats my arm. “I think I have something that’ll help.” She finds her purse, which has become a virtual walking medicine cabinet ever since my dad was diagnosed. She places a large assortment of pill bottles, eye drops, and cough syrups on the counter until she locates what she’s looking for. “Here. This is for nausea. Your dad says it works better than any of the prescription stuff.”

  I throw back two pills and wait, heart racing, to see if they stay down. When my stomach doesn’t immediately revolt, like it has with everything else I’ve tried to eat today, I start to relax. It always pays to have a mom who’s prepared for every situation.

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  Her mouth bends into her trademark sunny smile. “You’re welcome.” She sweeps everything into her big brown leather purse. “Now let’s get this ugly sweatshirt off of you so I can see what a beautiful bride my daughter is.”

  I grasp the bottom of the sweatshirt and pull it over my head.

  “Oh,” my mom gasps and my Aunt Janet claps her hands. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  I turn and look at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  I spent days going from one bridal boutique to another, searching for this dress. Just because this wedding was a business deal, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look the part. And I do.

  The dress has a loose skirt that stops at mid-calf. The sweetheart neckline shows just the faintest hint of cleavage and the pattern made out of sequins gives my body a graceful quality it has never had before.

  With my red hair curled and piled high on top of my head and the makeup a local theater major Jeremy somehow knows put on me, I’ve never looked more beautiful. I can’t wait for Jeremy to get his first glimpse of me.

  And later tonight, when he sees the super sexy underwear the owner of the bridal boutique gave me, he’s going to blow his mind. And maybe a little – or big – something else…

  Just thinking about his reaction causes my own blood to heat.

  A soft knock sounds on the door. “Ms. Appelet?”

  I recognize the strange, nasal voice of the church director. “Yes, Mrs. Peacock?”

  “We’re about ready to get started.”

  “Thank you.”

  “C’mon. Let’s go find our seats and give Caitlin a moment to collect her thoughts.” Aunt Janet takes my mom’s arm and leads her toward the door. “Good luck, Caitlin.”

  My mom throws another one of her warm smiles at me from over her shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart. Good luck. I’m so proud of you.”

  The silence after they leave is deafening. I take a deep breath and look in the mirror one last time, my gaze honing in on my stomach, trying to tell if there’s a faint swell beneath the satin or if that’s just my imagination. I really can’t tell.

  I wish I knew. The closer Jeremy and I get to exchanging vows, the more I wonder if we should have waited until I was actually pregnant before getting married. After all, his father’s will only said the baby had to be born within the confines of marriage; it didn’t say that it had to be conceived after we wed.

  By not marrying until I was actually pregnant, Jeremy would still be free to conceive a child with another woman if I prove to be infertile.

  I tried to talk to Jeremy about this, but he refused to even entertain the possibility. He acted like he didn’t even hear me.

  Oh well, with a church full of people and a minister standing next to the alter, ready to proceed, it’s too late to call things off. Now the only thing we can hope for is that everything works out.

  I slip my feet into the pretty, ivory-colored strappy heels I found and make my way to the tiny vestibule where my dad is waiting for me.

  My heart clenches at the sight of him sitting in one of the folding chairs. The cancer and resulting treatments have taken a toll. He looks older and there are constantly dark rings under his eyes, but nothing has dimmed his spirit. If anything, he seems to enjoy life even more now than he did before he was given the grim news about his pancreas.

  He sees me and stands. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, his voice softer than normal. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I ho
pe so.” I stop beside him and scan the large room. Every seat is full. I recognize the faces of my cousins and those who regularly use my floral services. There are also a few people I met when I went with Jeremy to Caldwell Industries functions. I spot Sheila, looking very pale and tired, sitting in the middle of the crowd.

  That she’s here surprises me. I sent her a wedding invitation because I’ve known her a few years and genuinely like her, but after the way she reacted to Jeremy when she met him a few months back, I didn’t expect her to come. Still, I’m very glad she did.

  My gaze travels farther until it lands on Jeremy. He’s standing angled away from the vestibule and toward a window, his attention captured by something that’s taking place outside. I drink in the sight of him, filing the memory away so that I can pull it out and revisit it whenever I want.

  My dad follows my stare and pats my arm. “You know, under most circumstances if you’d told me you were marrying a guy you’d only known three months, I’d seriously consider locking you in the basement, but with Jeremy, considering all he’s done for me, and how you glow whenever you look at him, I’m okay with it. You’ve found yourself a good man.”

  Nothing he said could have made me happier. Now, I just have to hope that he never finds out the real reason Jeremy and I are getting married.

  The minister catches my eye and raises a questioning brow. I nod and he signals the organ player, who starts playing the Wedding March. I move down the aisle, taking the first steps toward my future.

  27

  Evan

  The bright sunlight burns my eyes as I step out of the prison. I shield my eyes against the sun and take my first deep breath as a free man in over six years. It feels good.