by Deanna Roy
His breathing against my breast had gotten faster. His hands fumbled with the snap of my jeans, less agile now that the pace was moving from leisurely to breakneck.
I kicked at my high-tops, groaning when they were too stuck to come off easily. Chance noticed my problem and scooped me up to plant me on the bed. “I’ll do the honors,” he said, and untied my shoes.
He pulled off the sneakers and my socks, his palms wrapped around my ankles to smooth out where the pressure had left a mark.
I relaxed into the bed. The only thing really exposed on me was my belly where my jeans were unbuttoned. The air was cool and I pressed my hand there. I should tell him now, before this went any further.
Then his mouth was on my hand, nudging it out of the way. He kissed his way around my belly button. He paused only to say, “I’d forgotten you were an outie.”
He peeled my jeans over my hips and slid them down my legs. My panties were pink, a match for my hair. Chance paused over me. “I like you like this,” he said, his eyes raking my body. “T-shirt, no bra, lots of leg, and pretty little underwear.”
He bent down and snagged the lace band in his teeth. He tugged on it for a second, then said, “I want to tear these off you.”
I didn’t say anything, just watched him look at me. He nibbled along my hip and waist, working his way up. He nudged the shirt aside and continued along my ribs. Then he exposed a breast and his lips in that tender spot sent me over a precipice and I cried out, so desperate for him now that nothing was going to distract me.
I heard his shoes hit the floor, but this was distant compared to the hot wetness sending spiraling waves of pleasure through my body. I lay flat on my back, eyes closed, just letting each sensation crash over me.
Chance took his time, bringing the pace back down. His hand slid up my thigh and I opened for him. He teased the satin aside and slid a finger against me. When he slipped inside, my body lifted to meet him with another cry.
“Mmm, keep making those sweet sounds,” he said.
I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Every stroke of his hand was another intense push toward the peak I was headed for. I felt tears coming from my eyes, the emotion was so intense.
He moved back down, nipping with little bites as he made his way along my belly. The panties came down and he tossed them. He spread my thighs, and I didn’t resist, letting him work me with both his fingers and his mouth.
I couldn’t think anymore. I became nothing but the pleasure pulsing from below. I didn’t move or touch him or do anything but let it build, tightening, spiraling into a coil only he could release.
His fingers moved deeply inside and when he sucked on the nub, everything let go at once. The orgasm crashed over me, hot and intense, sparkling and colored. I couldn’t see or think or hear, but only feel, as though nothing existed but the places where he touched me.
I relaxed against the bed, coming down, and the tears flowed harder, hot and fast. He might notice if I drew attention to them, so I resisted the urge to wipe them away.
Instead, I reached up so I could unbutton this infernal shirt and get it away. When I pushed it off his shoulders, my breath caught just looking at him. I simply hadn’t gotten my hands on many men this built before.
I sat up enough that I could press my cheek against his chest. I wanted him close now, skin to skin. I reached for his jeans and unfastened them. He rolled to the side and pushed them off, boxers and all.
I turned in to him. My shirt was still in the way, so I pulled back and whipped it over my head. Now we could lie flush against each other. I felt tears threatening again and groaned inside. Enough, already, I told my grain of sand. It helped, as I managed to keep them in check so I didn’t get his shoulder all wet.
Chance lay on his back, and I began to memorize the lines and planes of his body. I ran my finger across his chest, down to his belly button, and bumped across his abs.
He was crazy erect and I followed the lines, gripping him tightly, base to end. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
This made it even easier to admire him, learning each part of him, bit by bit. How much of the baby would be like him, and how much like me?
I worked him, slowly and leisurely, feeling him pulse and throb beneath my fingers. His arm snaked around me, drawing me even closer, then gradually sliding me more on the bed. He shifted, rolling across me, until eventually he was over me and my knees were drawn up on either side of his thighs.
“A novel approach, for us,” he said.
“No sand to get in bad places this time.” I slid my palms up his body, belly to shoulders.
“You want me to get a condom this time?” he asked. “No sand to destroy it?”
I shook my head. “It’s all right.” For a second, I flashed with the women who could have been with him since me, during his travels. Then I just let it go. Such bigger issues to face.
He smoothed my hair back. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
I went still. “Really?”
His face was sober. “Really. Seems like nobody compares to a pink-haired girl cavorting naked on the beach.”
I was going to cry again. I held my jaw tight, willing it to go away. Another moment had come to tell him, but I didn’t trust my voice. It didn’t matter, because he dropped his lips to mine in a soft probing kiss. Gradually his body moved over mine, nudging against me, opening me for him.
I sucked in a breath as he entered, pleasure blasting through me. Everything was so intense, so emotional, amplified by all I knew was still to come. He slid down and then back, starting a slow, easy rhythm.
My hands gripped his shoulders. Once again, I just let go, relaxed into the sensation, the joy. I wished I loved this man, that we were skipping ahead a year, when we were happy and knew each other well and had long-term plans. Then telling him something so dramatic would be a source of great wonder.
He buried his face in my neck, his pace increasing. I held on, feeling his energy and need, tense and coiled above me. I wrapped my legs around him and locked my ankles, holding us together. His breathing sped up, hot on my skin. His primal need broke through and he worked harder, faster, lifting away from me and plunging in.
I cried out as pleasure burst in me, a brutal desire for him that expanded to meet his. He moved his hands beneath me and pulled me up to him, controlling the thrusts, rolling them tight at the end, then pulling back, a tight hard movement that sent my body shrieking into another frenzy.
He didn’t slow down and now I was matching him stroke for stroke, our bodies working in tandem, furious and hard. He began to groan and this response to me was the final straw. My body clenched down on his and the rumble of his voice reverberated through my skin as I blasted into another wave of orgasm.
I called out his name, loving the sound of it as it filled the room. He gripped me tight, and I felt the hot spurt flowing inside. I wanted to laugh, imagining the futility of the swimmers discovering their mission had already been accomplished.
I relaxed back on the bed. Chance held himself over me, his mouth soft against my cheek. The sounds of the hotel slowly filtered in. The hum of the lights. A thump from the floor above. The ding of the elevator.
We breathed together in quiet contentment for a while. I knew I had to start talking soon. I couldn’t let this go on.
But we were so happy in that moment that I let it be. Maybe we could just have this night, let the words come in the light of tomorrow.
Chance pulled away and lay on his back, curling me up against him. “You all right?”
I realized my cheeks were wet again. But Chance didn’t know I was not the least bit a crier normally. “I’m fine,” I said.
He stroked my hair. “I’m glad you made it here,” he said.
“You think you’ll stay here or are you going to get back on the road?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to hear the answer.
“I guess that depends on you,” he said.
My heart hamme
red. “How is that?”
“You worked pretty hard to find me. I guess you’ll eventually let me know why.”
I buried my face in his neck. “Maybe just so you could do all this some more.”
He laughed, the sound deep in his throat. “I could do this all day.”
“Good,” I said.
I felt his muscles suddenly go tense. I looked up at him. “What is it?”
“I think we need a little cleanup.” He swiped his fingers at a splotch of red on his belly.
My vision blacked out for a minute, then roared back in a full-fledged panic. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God.” I leaped from the bed and ran to the bathroom.
“It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not afraid of a little girl business,” he called out.
I slammed my hand against the light switch and lunged for the toilet paper.
Pink. It came back pink. I dropped it into the toilet and got some more. This, being less mixed with Chance’s fluids, was darker. I tossed it too and tried again, pressing hard against me.
This one was bright red.
Tears flowed down my face, hot and furious. The baby. The baby. God.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know anything. Should I go to a hospital?
I stumbled from the bathroom and scrambled for my purse, yanking my phone out.
Chance sat up on the bed. “You okay, Jenny?”
I didn’t answer, frantically tapping a message to Corabelle. She’d know more than anybody.
I’m pregnant and bleeding. What do I do?
The time waiting for a reply was ten years. I thought I might call my mother, but I didn’t want to talk on the phone in front of Chance.
Thankfully, Corabelle was close to her phone.
How long have you known?
Four days. I’m four weeks, four days.
How did the bleeding start?
I hesitated, then typed.
I just had sex.
Corabelle’s reply was a shout.
WHO WITH?????
I typed as fast as I could, grateful for autocorrect for once.
With the baby’s father.
The singer?
Yes.
Seconds ticked by. I wrote again.
Corabelle! What do I do?
Chance knelt by me. “You okay? What’s going on? Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t find any words.
Corabelle sent another message.
Lie down. See if it stops. It might turn brown. I bled several times with Finn, especially after sex. There’s a lot of blood going to that part of the body. If it stops, you’re okay.
I bent over the phone, relief flooding through me. So it could be okay. It could be okay.
I lay down right where I was, on the rough carpet of the hotel room floor.
Chance stroked my back. “Baby, talk to me. What’s happening?”
I clutched the phone to my chest. I had to say it now. I had to find my voice.
“I’m pregnant,” I said.
His hand stilled. “You’re what?”
“Pregnant,” I said. “I got pregnant that night with you. I found out four days ago. You’re the only person I’ve been with for five months.”
He pulled away. I curled up tightly, a shiver coming over me. I needed a blanket, or to move to the bed, but I was afraid to do anything, afraid of more blood, that it wouldn’t stop like Corabelle said, but keep coming, a tidal wave, taking my grain of sand out to sea.
I started crying so hard that I shook with it.
“Hey, hey,” he said. “Let’s figure this out.”
I could barely breathe. He wasn’t mad or accusing or walking away. He sounded more worried than anything.
“You’re cold,” he said. “Let’s get on the bed.”
Just like on the beach and in the limo, he picked me up. I rolled into him, letting him move me to the bed. He tucked the sheets around me and pulled my head against him. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m not supposed to bleed,” I whispered. “I asked my friend Corabelle what was happening. She’s had a baby.”
“What did she say?”
“That if it stops, I’m okay.”
I could feel the next question on his lips. What if it doesn’t? But he held it in. We both knew the answer to that.
I didn’t know if that would be a relief to him. I didn’t want to know.
I just pressed my cheek into him and breathed in the scent of his skin. But my thoughts kept turning. Was I bleeding more? Had it stopped? Should I have stayed home? Did I cause this? I started crying again, hot fat tears that soaked the pillow.
Chance hung on to me. When I kept going, finding some endless well of tears that simply wouldn’t stop, he hummed a melody that seemed kind of familiar, then slid into the song that he once told me was his favorite.
Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.
At first I cried even harder, for no reason I could figure out, but as the song went on and on, one verse sliding right into the next, eventually my tears slowed down and my breathing evened out.
Then sleep took over and gave me peace.
Chapter 43: Chance
Jenny was asleep.
Her whole pillow was wet and her cheek stuck to my shoulder from the tears. I shifted carefully, taking care not to disturb her, and settled her a little easier alongside me.
My mind tried to wrap around what she’d told me. Pregnant. She’d gotten pregnant from that one night.
Pregnant.
I said it over and over in my head until it sounded foreign, like a made-up word.
Jenny hadn’t seemed like the sort of girl who would get caught up in all that, but obviously she planned to keep the baby if she went looking for me. She was so upset at the idea it was in trouble that she clearly must want to have it.
The hotel room was quiet and cold. I should probably have gotten up and shut off the lights, maybe turned down the air-conditioning. But I didn’t want to wake up Jenny. If she started bleeding again, she’d really panic.
I didn’t know anything about babies. My friends could barely hold on to a girl for any length of time, much less start families.
A kid. Damn. I’d have to get back into concrete work, get something steady, something with benefits.
My traveling days were over.
Jenny’s phone buzzed several times, probably her friend asking how she was. I let it be. The world had completely changed for me, but outside this room, nothing was any different than it had been an hour ago.
I looked down at her, the pink dreadlocks draping across her shoulder and the white pillow. I didn’t know hardly anything about her. But we were bound together now.
I was used to not sleeping much, but this was the first real bed I’d been in for a while, and I must have dozed off. When I opened my eyes, Jenny was looking at me. We stared at each other a moment, not moving.
Then she said, “How long has it been?”
I glanced behind her at the clock. “About three hours.”
She rolled onto her back, slowly and carefully, as if her body was made of glass. “I should check.”
I could tell she didn’t want to. “You want me to come in there with you?”
She didn’t answer. These were intimate things, body and blood, sex and babies, life and death. But here we were, two strangers, sharing them before our time.
Then she nodded. I sat up, holding out my hand to her. She took it and slid evenly over the bed, jarring her body as little as possible. It made me wonder if she could keep that up for nine whole months. Seemed like the little critter needed to be able to handle a bit of motion. But I didn’t know anything.
Jenny shifted on the bed so she could drop her feet over the edge. She stood with pained deliberation, as if every movement could bring about a terrible end. With small, gentle steps, she headed for the bathroom. I kept her shaky hand in mine as we walked that short distance togethe
r.
The light in there was blindingly bright compared to the lamps in the room. Jenny blinked, standing beside the toilet as she let go of my hand. She drew in a deep breath before reaching for the roll of paper and tearing off a few squares.
I glanced away as she moved to check, not sure if I could handle the answer any more than her. Heartbeats passed. Then the toilet flushed.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Corabelle was right.”
I pulled her into me. She buried her face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her back and held her close. She breathed, in and out, shuddering occasionally.
Eventually I led her back into the room and the bed. When I had her tucked back in, I adjusted the thermostat and killed all but one of the small lights on a side table.
I slid in next to her between the cool sheets. She didn’t move into me, and I knew I was supposed to say something now. I tried to figure out the words, that it’d be okay, we’d figure things out. But I didn’t know her, not really, and I couldn’t make any assurances. We had a lot to sort out.
Finally, I said, “We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”
She didn’t say anything to that. I reached for her and brought her in close. That’s the best I could do for now.
Chapter 44: Jenny
I’ve had a lot of awkward morning-afters, but this one was the worst.
I woke up to Chance sitting on a chair by the window, showered and dressed, waiting for me to come around. I was embarrassed by my laziness and not sure where we stood.
