Damaged & Off Limits Books 5--6

by C. C. Piper

  Jesus Christ.

  The doctor had left us alone in the room, but before doing so, she’d frozen the image of our son’s teeny-weeny ass on the screen so there could be no doubt. An appendage thrust out from between his legs as clear as day, and even though I’d decided I’d be thrilled either way, knowing it was a boy just made me want to climb to the top of the Empire State Building and bellow out my news for the entire country to hear.

  I pictured what it’d be like to put him in pads and a helmet for his first football practice, just like I’d done. I could see him running, throwing the ball, and making a touchdown. I could see him both here in the Big Apple jumping in puddles in Central Park and back at home in the Big Easy, trying barbecue for the first time. There was so much to share. So much I’d get to watch him do. And then, my imagination took another turn, and Jessica was there, as well.

  She was there as I handed our son his first football, plush when he was little, then maybe a nerf one before going to the real thing. She was there at his practices and cheering him on as he outran the other team. She was there laughing at his antics as he splashed in those puddles, and she was there in New Orleans, trying Louisiana barbecue, too. She was there with him; with me. We were an us. We three, together and happy.

  Whoa, was that possible?

  And as soon as the query flew through my mind, I knew what I wanted the answer to be.

  Yes. Yes, please.

  Today had been a study of extremes. Jessica and I had been sniping at each other. She hadn’t been taking care of herself and it showed. It pissed me off, and it worried me, not only because of our son, but also because of her. I wanted her healthy not only so she could give me a healthy child, but also for her own sake.

  Her expression now was pure elation. And I’m sure mine was, too. It felt like we’d been riding a roller coaster into a roaring tornado ever since this whole thing started. Yet, I couldn’t complain.

  We were having a boy.

  I loved my son with a boundlessness I couldn’t even explain. Yet, I felt things for Jessica, as well. I cared about her and wanted her in my future.

  So what did that mean?

  My brain was too scattered to make sense of what anything meant right now.

  All that mattered was that we were going to have a son. A bouncing baby boy. My cheeks began to hurt, and I couldn’t care less. It just felt so, so good.

  The doctor removed the scanning device from Jessica’s belly. As the mother of my son lowered her loose-fitting maternity shirt back into place, I felt an impulse to lug her into my arms and parade around the room with her like an insane person. Instead, I led her out of Womancare and into my SUV.

  “Want to come over to my place?” I asked her, visualizing us nestled together on my L-shaped sectional eating takeout Chinese. I also had a massive monitor on my desktop computer where we could sit side by side and pick out some new clothes for the baby. A football uniform—that was a given. And maybe some tiny little jeans and a t-shirt in Saints colors. Maybe one mentioning King Cake or featuring a fleur-de-lis.

  “I have a fitness client in about an hour,” she said, and for the first time in several minutes, her smile faded. I hated to see that. I would’ve liked for her smile to be permanent. “And don’t you have to get back to work, too?”

  Work. I’d totally forgotten about work. Every moment I wasn’t either sleeping or spending with Jessica was consumed by investments and tracking down fresh and wealthier clients. Yet, the second I’d heard I was going to be the father of a son, all that had flown out the window like a flock of pigeons.

  Whoa.

  “You’re right. I just … I guess my mind’s been blown.”

  Her smile came back. “What was it like feeling him bounding around in there? Our baby boy?”

  “It was …” I kept having difficulty formulating coherent sentences. “It was amazing. You are amazing.”

  She glanced down at her hand as it rested on her baby bump, her smile remaining in place. Jessica was glowing. Her black curls surrounded her head like a halo, and her copper skin no longer looked pale. Her jade green eyes, still the slightest bit red around the rims, were sparkling now. I found everything about her to be stunning, just like she had been the first time I’d seen her.

  Only this time, it was even better. Her belly was swollen with my child. Her breasts, which had already probably been D cups, had filled out even more beneath her clothing, tantalizing me with their fullness. Her hips were rounder, and the skin of her hands seemed softer. I wondered if her rosebud lips were as supple and pliant as I remembered.

  Her reedy-voiced boss had interrupted us earlier, but Lance was nowhere in sight now. We were in my Lexus and hadn’t yet pulled out into traffic.

  It was as good a time as ever.

  So, I twisted, wove my hands into that riotous hair of hers, and took her mouth, sealing my lips over hers. And again, I was arrested by the taste of her, by the sweetness of it. Just like months ago, I felt an almost overwhelming craving to abandon all my control and lose myself in her.

  But this time, I didn’t yearn to tie her up or to bang her into the bed. This time, I wanted to touch her with just the tips of my fingers, to cuddle and caress her. This time, I wanted to witness her pleasure by gazing into her eyes the moment she came.

  I felt the edge of my lust, but I also felt something else. Something different. Whether due to my son growing inside of her or something else, I realized I didn’t want to command her to do anything. I didn’t want to take the chance that I might harm her, even accidentally. So, I didn’t want to dominate her and make her submit. I didn’t want any of the trappings my sexual exploits typically required. I didn’t want to fuck her.

  I wanted to take her in my arms and make love to her.

  Okay. That was new.

  Or maybe it wasn’t. Over these past few weeks, we’d been in each other’s company frequently. We’d eaten together nearly every day. We’d gone shopping for our son. We’d gone together to her doctor’s appointments every single time, and a couple of those times required me to stand near her head because of the intimate nature of those checks. But Jessica had asked me to stay, even when I’d offered to step outside.

  We’d become something more, though I didn’t know how to label it.

  I’d never been someone who apologized for who I am. I accepted long ago that my predilections fell outside what most would probably consider the norm, sexually speaking. Not that I was anything that out there. I’d once gone to a BDSM convention and witnessed some visuals there I’ll never be able to forget, some of which turned me on a little and some of which out-and-out repulsed me.

  But I’d never been in a place to judge anyone else about what they liked or didn’t like, so I never had. Yet, now, I questioned what I’d been doing all this time. When I’d been a teenager and taking my initial forays into physical pleasure with a girl, I’d found myself pushing the traditional envelope right past its limits. None of the girls I’d dated had enjoyed my form of play. Not one.

  So, in college, when a friend had mentioned the Wish Maker, I’d started down the path of paying women to be my submissives. That way, I received precisely what I wanted without hesitation or regret.

  Never once had I felt bad about anything I’d done to these women. I’d never mistreated them, and I knew I wouldn’t see them again. It’d always been a one and done deal for me. I wanted no attachments or entanglements. I wasn’t interested in anything with them beyond a night of pleasure.

  Yet with Jessica, all that had changed forever.

  While she was the most captivatingly stunning woman I’d ever seen on the outside, what I’d become aware of more and more was her beauty on the inside. Though I didn’t know all the details, this was a girl who had been beaten up by life. Yet, she hadn’t let that thwart her. She had a determination and resilience about her that I admired. Despite her pregnancy affecting the way she moved, she continued to push forward with her two very physical jobs,
anyway.

  I had to respect her fortitude, and I did.

  The trick was that she made me take a closer look at myself. I’d never felt bad for my lifestyle. I’d been focused on my career, and that was fine with me. Or, it had been. Now, being around Jessica so much made me wonder what ever happened to those women I’d fucked halfway into the mattress and then got up and left behind.

  Those women were almost caricatures of themselves to me, not real. While I remembered all of them, it was in the same way you might remember a nice collection of paintings in an art museum. I oohed and ahhed, and then, I moved on.

  And then Jessica came along. When she’d told me she’d never have sex for money again, I thought I’d understood. I assumed she must’ve had some sort of moral or ethical reason to stop, which was fine. I’d always been the kind of person to say to each his or her own. But now when I thought of her never sleeping with anyone for money again, I was relieved. Immensely.

  Not only because she was having my baby, either, though that was certainly a contributing factor. When I thought about another man being with her sexually—whether for money or not— it made me want to punch something, preferably him. Now, when I thought of how I’d been with her that night, I felt bile rise up my throat like battery acid.

  I’d not only treated all my former conquests like objects, I’d treated the mother of my son like an object. Like a plaything. Like a sex toy rather like a living breathing woman with a mind, heart, and soul.

  And for the first time in my life, I felt ashamed of my love life. Or more correctly, my lack of one. Maybe I’d been fooling myself all along, saying that it was okay because it was just sex. No one was getting hurt. No one was doing anything beyond anyone else’s permission. It was all consensual. But Jessica had only been with me that night because she’d needed a decent sized sum of money fast. Which basically meant she’d been desperate.

  And I’d been the asshole to use that desperation for my own pleasure.

  It didn’t matter that she’d received her own pleasure or that I hadn’t known her circumstances at the time. It didn’t even matter that I didn’t know everything about her now. I thought I’d treated her well when I actually hadn’t. And that realization made me feel shallow and callous.

  Somehow, I’d spent my entire adult life as an arrogant asshole without being conscious of that. Which must mean I was deaf, dumb, and blind when it came to putting other’s needs ahead of my own.

  I’d always been that way. When Jax had been sent away to London, I’d missed him, sure. But I’d also all too willingly filled in for him, hoping to impress his father. When an opportunity to leave everyone I held dear had arisen, I hadn’t hesitated to move states away. I’d leapt at the chance without regard for anything or anyone else.

  Looking back at the decisions I made, I didn’t feel good about myself. And though kissing Jessica was one of my favorite activities ever, I broke the seal of our lips and sat back. Averting my eyes, I peered out at the hustle and bustle surrounding us. The city had transitioned into spring, the leaves had already gone from buds to leaves. The bare branches had filled with vibrant green as New York had blossomed into view.

  Just like my son would be doing in a couple of months.

  Jesus Christ, if there was ever a time to get my shit together, it was now.

  “Trevor,” Jessica brought my attention back to her sublime face. “Are you okay?”

  “S-sure … uh …” God, I was stuttering. What the ever-loving hell? “Just really excited, you know?”

  “Okay.” She lifted one delicately arched eyebrow. “But you seem kinda freaked out.”

  “N-no,” Still stammering. Awesome. “No, I just need to get to work, like you said. How about I take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate? We can go to a movie, too, if you want.”

  She patted her belly. “Don’t know if my bladder could handle a movie.”

  “Well, we’ll head to my place instead, then. We can watch one there. If I don’t already have the movie you want, I’ll either stream one or download it digitally.”

  There. Hopefully that smoothed things over. At least I’d gotten past sounding like Daffy fucking Duck.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Cool,” I told her, hazarding a brief glance without holding her gaze. “Let me drop you at the gym, and I’ll come get you at your place at eight.”

  Then, I flipped on Sirius Radio to fill the car with music, negating the need to fill the SUV with any more talk. I needed to process my thoughts, to figure out how to be what Jessica and my son needed me to be.

  17

  Jessie

  Hearing that our baby was a boy created a bubble of happiness inside me. Seeing that one identifying feature on the sonogram today and sharing that with Trevor meant so much to me. We were having a son, a baby boy that would be half him and half me. It brought the reality of this child and my love for him into sharp focus. It made me want to go out and buy a bib featuring a bow tie.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Ashley.

  And Trevor asked me out tonight, too. Not just out to lunch like we’d done so many times, but out to dinner. Maybe the time of day we’d be eating together shouldn’t alter its significance so much, but it did. Dinner implied something more serious. Something more … romantic. Or at least, it could. I didn’t want to read more into it than there was, but still. Trevor and I hadn’t had dinner together since this baby’s conception. It just felt like more of a big deal.

  And though I hadn’t admitted this to myself before, I wanted it to be.

  Something about all our recent interactions had brought my feelings for Trevor to the fore. At first, I’d just ascribed it to physical attraction and hormones. I mean, our first night together had been damn near explosive. I’d had a handful of partners, but no one had made me soar like Trevor had.

  Then, at the gym, he’d kissed me. It’d been such a searing kiss, too. One I’d been in danger of losing myself in, despite the fact that we’d been at my workplace. I’d never been like that before with anyone else. PDA was not my normal MO. Yet, I hadn’t cared. And tonight, we had more plans.

  But was it just me, or had he seemed a little off right before he’d dropped me back at work?

  Pushing that idea out of my mind, I texted my BFF.

  Guess what.

  What? She sent back.

  It’s a boy.

  A BOY! YAY! SCREAMING AND HOLLERING AND THROWING CONFETTI RIGHT HERE IN CLASS!

  I giggled like a little girl, glad my fitness client hadn’t arrived yet. Then, when he showed up, I did my best to sedately lead him through a rotation on the weight machines.

  After getting home I went straight to the shower so I could get ready for my dinner date. Ashley popped into the room and spoke to me through the shower curtain.

  “A BOY!” she shrieked, and after I came back to life from the heart attack she’d caused me, I peeked out at her.

  “A boy,” I echoed, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Have you guys been thinking about names?”

  “Maybe a few, though we haven’t mentioned any to each other.”

  “Well, I have a few,” she said, her tone impish.

  “Let’s hear ‘em.’

  “How about Rupert?”

  “Rupert? Really?” I asked her.

  “No? Nigel, then.”

  I snorted. “That one’s even worse.”

  “Miles?”

  “That sounds like a butler, and I just don’t want to limit his choices like that.”

  This time it was Ashley who snorted. “Bernard.”

  “Maybe once he turns eighty.”

  “You’re totally bogarting all my suggestions.”

  “All your suggestions are bizarre,” I countered. “Are you going to name your kids any of these once it’s your turn?”

  “Absolutely. Those names are classy.”

  “Those names are archaic,” I quipped back, and that time we both dissolved into snickers.
It took a few minutes before we sobered, and I dried off. Once done, she handed me my robe, but my tummy now protruded out of it. We went to my room where I started to pick through my wet hair, and a conclusion I’d recently come to burst out of me of its own accord. “Ash?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I think I have a thing for Trevor.”

  “A thing?” She plopped on my bed, seizing my pillow to lean on.

  “Yeah.”

  “Like an attraction thing? A fascination thing? An obsessive-compulsive thing? What kind of thing are we talking about here?”

  “A uh … love thing,” I clarified. Saying the word out loud gave it a certain impetus, like I’d released a genie from its bottle and didn’t know what it might do.

  “Oh.” Ashley went exceptionally quiet after that, staring down at her cuticles.

  “You’re not saying anything.”

  “No. No, I’m not.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. “Why not?”

  “Because you have that hopeful look in your eye, and I don’t want it to go away.”

  “You don’t think we’ll work out.”

  “I think you’re in a difficult situation. You’re looking at either raising little Dougal all by your lonesome—with help from me, of course. Or, if you were to get with Trevor, you’d be a team. A mommy and daddy together. It makes sense to want that, even if it might be a marriage of convenience.”

  “Marriage?” I blew out a gust of air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

  “It’s a figure of speech,” she said, waving me off.

  “This wouldn’t be about marriage, probably. It’s just that I … love him.”

  She went still as a statue in response.

  “What’s wrong with that?” I demanded of her.

  “Nothing, if you don’t mind getting your heart broken.” Then, she winced at the same time I did. “I’m not trying to bring you down, honey, but look at the facts. He’s a rich powerful businessman in his prime. You went on a paid date with him that wound up producing a child. There’s just so many cards stacked against you.”