by Ella Brooke
“Ah!”
Hanna grabbed his hand, and Mateo laughed. She writhed underneath him and guided his hand lower. Dutifully, he reached between her legs and buried his fingers in the warm folds. These days, Hanna was always almost ready, like an overripe grape, waiting for a hint of a squeeze to make her pop. Mateo always took extra care to make sure she was satisfied, but it was easier than ever. Two fingers stroking down either side, until she started to squirm. One thumb massaging, very gently, on her mound.
She was at his mercy, even before he shed his trousers and slipped inside her. Once he did, he found her oh so wet, and so warm, and so tight. She throbbed around him and let out a low, helpless groan. He gripped her hip and began to roll his hips, slowly. His hard length moved in her velvety softness, as he kept his eyes on her panting form beneath him. Harder, faster, but not more than she could take. He made sure of that.
Mateo felt her begin to tighten around him and bowed over her, favoring her mound with a few more strokes, right where she needed, it. When she came, and he’d known she would, he could see on her face that her body was alive with fireworks. Her head fell back, and her fingers gripped the sheets, and her mouth opened with an unuttered cry.
With a grunt, Mateo came. His hips jerked forward, tensing as he gripped her hips, as he rode out his orgasm. When he was spent, he leaned over her, looking into her sleepy, blinking eyes. Hanna reached up to touch his hair, and they shared a soft kiss before he pulled out and lay next to her.
Tendrils of sweat-soaked hair stuck to the sides of her forehead. He kissed her brow and curled up next to her. They’d be heading back in the morning. Going back to their lives, to being careful…
To pretending that he hadn’t fallen so deeply in love with Hanna that he couldn’t see straight.
Chapter Two
Hanna
Six Months Earlier
The clay was cool between Hanna’s fingers. Slippery, wet. Shaping slowly as she turned the mound of clay on her wheel. What had begun as amorphous and purposeless shifted and formed under her careful hands into graceful curves. Something was tantalizing about a smooth curve like that, jutting out in a perfect arch, elegant, pale, and almost too delicate to touch. Hanna lost herself to the world as she fixated on bringing the clay into not one, but five gentle swells, one on top of the other. They were so carefully balanced. With the clay still wet, it could’ve fallen at any moment, but it didn’t. It stood before her, waiting for her approval. Waiting to be brought to life.
Hanna only stepped back when she was certain it was ready, then taking a flat tool, began to painstakingly etch a texture along the side. Finally, she moved the piece very carefully to the row to be fired in the kiln that evening. She would glaze each one in the morning and have them ready to be sold in the shop by Monday. She went to wash her hands, her mind already racing to her next task that day. The side-hustle: tutoring.
“Are you sure that piece looks crafty enough?” Maris asked, barely looking up from her wire cutters and the pair of earrings she was working on.
“Hush, you.”
“I’m just saying, if it’s too perfect, the hippies might think you got it from a factory.”
Hanna had the urge to pour the bowl of clay run-off onto Maris’s head, but the girl was just teasing. It was a delicate balance, creating something that looked homemade but with enough quality that people considered it worth buying.
“What’s that?” Hanna looked up at the charcoal sketch sitting near Maris. It was the word “RUDE” sketched in the middle of the canvas, with ornate flowers all around it. “Oh god, that’s hilarious. Did Blaine make that?”
“I don’t think so. Pretty sure Sam made it while Blaine was annoying him.”
Hanna laughed. “I bet more than a few people would enjoy sipping their morning coffee with that message on the front.”
Maris chuckled. “He’s allergic to paint, but he’d probably let you use the design.” She paused. “You could use those extra mugs from the order Mrs. Hardison canceled.”
“I could… They’re fired and ready… But I think I’d like to etch the design in, if you could get me a stencil to make it work for each mug. Then you could paint over the outline when it’s done.”
“That would look better. Cool. We’ll do it. What will you do with those other mugs, though?”
“Glaze them in lots of 2-4 and try to move them on Etsy or Ebay. Or set them up in the front of the shop. I have that beige and blue wave pattern that sells really well, and I like the shape of them.” Hanna shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Maris nodded. It wasn’t Hanna who had to worry about her work selling. Not everyone was into pottery, but plenty of people could use housewares. It was tougher, sometimes, for Maris’s metalwork and jewelry to catch customers. Even Blaine’s paintings didn’t always sell.
That evening, after spending several hours at Starbucks meeting different students to help them with their schoolwork, Hanna came back to the loft. She could hear Sam playing his cello before she even entered the door. A smile tugged on her lips. He was trying to pull out the theme from the Wonder Woman movie. When he spotted her, he returned her smile and winked broadly.
“Oh, is that what the orchestra is playing this month?” Hanna teased.
“We’ll knock ‘em dead,” Sam drawled.
Hanna grabbed a bowl, the large box of Multigrain Cheerios, and the reduced fat peanut butter and went to sit on the couch. Sam was perched on his chair in the corner near the kitchen, and he started to play again. It seemed like this was popular music as well, but she didn’t recognize it immediately. She dipped her spoon in the peanut butter and topped it with some Cheerios.
Her lips curved as she recognized this one. She listened for a moment, munching the snack that meant she didn’t have to bother with dinner yet.
“Is that ‘Despacito?’” she asked finally.
“Davide and I got hired to play a quinceañera,” Sam explained. He set down his bow. “Lemme know when you can talk.”
“I can talk now.”
“I don’t want you choking.”
Sam set his cello by the window and rose, drawing a hand though his salt-and-pepper hair. He had just turned thirty-two, but he was going prematurely gray, probably a side-effect of having lived on the streets during his teenage years. Hanna had known him and considered him practically a brother, since she was seventeen years old. If he wasn’t smiling, something wasn’t right.
She put her bowl on the table. “What is it?”
“I talked with Alvin this afternoon,” Sam said. Alvin owned the building that housed their shop. He was friendly enough, but didn’t like talking to tenants much.
“That sounds promising,” Hanna returned sarcastically. “What did he say?”
Sam tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and frowned. “He’s sellin’ the building.”
“Our building? So, we’re going to have a new landlord? That could be either very good or very bad.”
“It’ll be bad if he sells to the wrong person. Most of the interested parties plan to tear it down.”
“Fuck me.” Hanna pulled her legs up underneath her.
“Yeah. And he said he’d give us the opportunity to buy it, but we’re gonna have to meet the listing price. He’s gotta go back home to take care of his mother, and he needs the money.”
Hanna stared at the ground. Sam’s demeanor was understated, but this was devastating for them. They’d lose their whole business if they didn’t have a stable place to sell. One couldn’t live on Etsy alone.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Not yet. I was thinking we should all get together soon and see if we can manage to get a loan. Davide said he’d help, but he has his brother and sister to look after, so it won’t be much.” Sam sat on the arm of the sofa. “I can only ask so much of the boyfriend. And it’s not like banks count me as a real person, anyway, so I can’t get a loan myself.”
Hanna patted his a
rm.
“I’m gonna make some coffee.” Sam launched himself up and stretched his arms over his head.
Hanna tapped her spoon on the side of her bowl.
A week later, and the four of them (plus occasionally Davide) were still struggling to come up with a solution. The most stable of them, Maris and Blaine, had consulted their parents and their banks about loans, but the amount to buy a building of that size was more than any bank was willing to give a bunch of 20-somethings. Sam was older, but hadn’t had a steady paycheck since he was sixteen, so his age didn’t get him any points. They were in a bind, and their choices were limited.
“We could rob a bank.” Davide set a basket of biscuits on the dining table.
“That’s harder than you might imagine,” Sam said.
Maris smirked. “Oh, and you would know.”
“This is a stick up!” Davide yelled. “Gimme all yo’ money, or I’m going to classical music your ass!”
Sam crossed his arms. “I never said I’d tried it. I knew some people who did. C’mon, kids, be serious.”
“Kids,” Blaine snorted.
“If we can’t get a loan,” Hanna pointed out, hating that she had to do so, “then we’re going to have to prepare for a move. I don’t think we can afford to do it, but we definitely won’t survive without a storefront.”
Sam nodded and brought over a few plates of vegetables before sitting beside Davide. “We’ve got a little over a month to come up with a solution. So, I suggest we start looking for other places to rent.”
“Texas Street is perfect for business, though,” Blaine complained. “We’re right in the middle of downtown. How are we going to get foot traffic in some burned out old building in the middle of nowhere?”
Sam shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But even if we were to buy outright something a little outside of Shreveport proper, that would be far more doable than the cost of where we are now, in the long run. I just don’t see how we’re ever going to get $700,000 without a serious loan or investor.”
“We could rent out the apartment upstairs,” Blaine suggested, “like Alvin does.”
“You gotta own the damn building before you can start collecting rent,” Davide said. He looked to Sam. “Is he slow?”
“Stop,” Hanna insisted. “This isn’t helping. We can look for new places while still doing whatever we can to stay in the space we have now. Be sensible.”
Maris took a biscuit and sighed. “I wish my folks would help more. But they won’t give us anything without seeing some proof that we’re profiting from the business.”
“How much would they offer?” Hanna asked.
“Just 300 grand.”
Sam nearly choked on his Diet Coke.
“That’s not nothin’,” Davide said.
“It’s not enough to keep the building,” Maris pointed out. “And they wouldn’t give us anything if we moved to a more affordable building.”
“Damned if we do, damned if we don’t,” Hanna murmured.
It was difficult to watch everyone scrambling over this. These people had been her life since her grandmother, who had raised her, had died a few years ago. Not being able to help them save their co-op was painful.
“Maybe someone could sell a kidney,” Davide suggested.
“I’m gonna kick you out,” Sam warned. Davide smirked at the empty threat.
“Or other body parts,” Hanna added. “Why not just sell a leg. We’ve all got two.”
Davide laughed and Sam turned away from him.
“I mean, not limbs, but you and Maris could always sell…” Blaine trailed off. The look on his face suggested that he knew he was going to get hit for this.
“What?” Maris demanded.
“You could sell your eggs. It wouldn’t get us everything, but you can get like $15,000 every time you do it. Between the two of you, if you did it twice, that’s…” Blaine looked up at the ceiling and frowned.
“It’s $60,000,” Sam snapped. “And we’re not selling anyone’s eggs.”
“Their body, their choice, dude.”
“It’s not enough anyway. And we don’t have enough time to go through one egg harvest before the building will have been bought anyhow,” Maris said.
“Or surrogacy,” Blaine continued. “I saw an ad that offered up to $250,000 for the right surrogate. Both of you could do it—“
Maris smacked his arm hard.
“Ow!”
“Even if one of you did it, it would be good collateral on a loan!”
The evening devolved from there. Hanna found her appetite dropping off, even though Sam and Davide had delivered on an excellent roast. It wasn’t fair that their options were so limited, but that’s the way it was. Whatever they chose would leave them in a vulnerable position, and what they had was so fragile.
After dinner, Hanna approached Blaine in the hallway and said quietly, “If you say anything to the others, I will flat out kill you, but… could you show me the ad you found for surrogacy?”
Blaine’s thick eyebrows shot up.
“Not a word, Blaine,” Hanna growled.
Blaine just smiled.
Chapter Three
Mateo
Mateo leaned back in his chair, caught somewhere between frustration and capitulation. His mother, demanding as always, had been on his back for the past several weeks to make a choice already. And it wasn’t the most difficult of choices. The biggest challenge was simply that no one could predict how such an endeavor might turn out. Easier, in many ways, to select a new summer home or a boat.
Selecting a surrogate to carry a new member of the royal line… That was understandably more complex.
The queen had, however, chosen to see it as a very simple, almost business-like matter. The royal family of Artigua had for generations, as a matter of tradition, gotten their aspiring newlyweds pregnant long before the wedding day. Whether that was because, as Mateo wryly suspected, Artiguan princes couldn’t keep it in their pants, or whether it was a more economic matter of ensuring the royal bloodline would be able to continue from a particular pairing, he didn’t know. What did it matter? The result was the same.
Mateo was engaged to a woman he barely knew, and to whom he felt almost no attraction. Regardless, the two of them were expected to produce a child before anyone thought about wedding plans. But while Ariana De Burge was rich in land and family money and prestige, she lacked in physical capacity. Mateo had nothing against the girl, but she had been very upfront with the king and queen about her medical condition. It hadn’t seemed to matter. This was the 21st century, after all. They could just use Ariana’s eggs, liberated from her less than cooperative (and tilted) womanhood, and hire someone to do the hard work.
As Mateo scrolled through the profiles that their lawyers had procured through a number of surrogacy agencies, he couldn’t help but think there had to be a simpler way to do this.
“Romantic, isn’t it?” Ariana entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits and set it on the table in front of him.
“You can have one of the servants do that,” Mateo said.
She shrugged as she poured the steaming tea. “I’m used to doing it myself. Besides, don’t they have plenty of work of their own without us adding to it?”
Mateo rolled his eyes. Ariana sat primly next to him.
“She’s pretty.” Her voice came in a delicate near-whisper.
“Is she?” Mateo glanced at the screen again. He’d added this girl to his list several times, and taken her off just as many. “Something about her bothers me.”
Ariana raised a dark brow and leaned forward. “Well. I suppose it could be the ample chest, or the perfect nose. Pity you aren’t using her for her genetics. It would be a shame for any child of ours to be saddled with the De Burge beak.”
Mateo looked at her in surprise. Ariana seemed completely serious, though there was a bit of a twinkle in her eye. He hadn’t ever found her particularly attractive, and maybe it di
d have something to do with a prominent and extremely straight nose, but he wouldn’t have called her ugly, per se.
“It’s a joke, your highness. You can laugh.” Ariana looked back to the pictures. “I think they’d all be fine. You could choose five of them, load them all up with eggs, and see who pops first.”
“You are a bizarre girl, Ariana.”
“It’s just hard to know how I should feel about who is going to carry my child.” Ariana took her tea and held it up to her mouth to blow on it. “I’d advise that you stop looking at their pictures and just look at their records. Pick the most stable one, or pick the least stable, or the most desperate. We really just need someone healthy and with a decent set of ethics.”
“How ethical can you be, if you’re selling your body to the highest bidder?”
Ariana’s lips twisted. In that moment, she seemed less an aloof, young duchess and more of a disappointed school teacher. “It’s just as well you won’t be ruling the country any time soon.” Her tone had grown colder. “Empathy is something we learn with practice.”
“I think you overstep, dear Ariana.”
“Perhaps I do. Enjoy your tea.” Ariana set hers down and moved to leave, but he caught her wrist and held it tightly. Her eyes widened in alarm.
“If you care so much, why don’t you select the surrogate? She’ll be standing in for the work you won’t be doing, after all.”
Ariana’s eyes shone slightly. She seemed afraid of him. She might be. She didn’t know him well enough to say whether he’d hurt her or not. He could’ve disabused her of this idea, but he resisted, waiting for her response.
“If you like, your highness.”
“I would like that very much.” Mateo rose, grabbed a biscuit, and headed for the door. “Pick someone pretty. She’ll have to stay here for part of time, after all. Might as well have her be easy on the eyes.”
If it were possible for the air to freeze around him, Mateo would have said Ariana was doing just that. However, when he looked back at her, he only saw a young woman, calmly sipping her tea and staring at the laptop screen intensely. Occasionally, she made a note on the pad beside the laptop.
