by Parker, Ali
“You don’t have to do that,” I said climbing out of the car.
“I want to. I’ll call you later and see how you’re feeling,” she said.
I waved and headed inside, anxious to be alone with my own misery and sadness.
Chapter 65
Grayson
It felt good to work out. My feet cradled in a new pair of running shoes slammed against the belt of the treadmill as I got into the rhythm of a steady clip that had my heartbeat up and my body sweating as I burned calories. I had let myself go the first few weeks after Hannah had kicked me out of her apartment. I had known in that moment it was over. I had gone home and signed the divorce papers and then crawled inside a bottle. I drank until I passed out, got up went to work and went home to repeat the whole process once again. I didn’t want to think about her.
Instead of getting on the treadmill or working out, I had drunk like a fish. I wanted to stay numb. The urge to call her had been strong those first few weeks, but I never did. I wasn’t the kind of man who went after anyone who didn’t want me. I had too much pride for that. I had been a fool to believe there was a chance with us. It had been over before it started.
The self-imposed misery threatened to take me down into a pit I had never been in before. I could see it happening but didn’t care enough to try and stop it. My mom had tried to help, but I got tired of the lectures and pity stares and stopped visiting. I called her daily, but I didn’t want to see her or Jack or any of the rest of them. It wasn’t until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror three weeks ago I realized I had been making some really shitty decisions. I had stood in front of the full-length mirror in my closet, staring at the dark circles under my eyes and the sickly pallor of my skin caused by too much drinking.
I realized then it was my choice to be miserable. I couldn’t give up on everything. It wasn’t in my nature. I was not so weak that being rejected by a woman would destroy me. I stared at my reflection and vowed to change. What was in the past was in the past.
In that moment, I decided the bottle wasn’t the answer. I changed my way of thinking. Instead of trying to block out Hannah’s memory with alcohol, I chose to exercise. I pushed my body hard, probably a little too hard, but it was the only way I could tire myself out enough to get any real sleep. It had been hard the first week of my self-imposed punishment.
There were still moments I wanted to wallow and be pissed at the world. I couldn’t do it. I had needed to pull my shit together for my own well-being. I had and now I felt a lot better. I could have a glass of scotch at the end of the day and not be tempted to drink the entire bottle.
The chiming of the alarm on the treadmill snapped me back to reality. I smiled looking down at the digital readout boasting my progress. I had been making serious improvements. Hell, I was in the best shape of my life and I owed it all to Hannah.
I got off the treadmill after a five-mile run and wiped my brow with a towel, the tingling sensation in my leg muscles making me feel alive and invigorated. I loved running in the morning. I headed out of my personal gym and made my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, passing the breakfast bar where the stupid divorce papers were still sitting. I had signed them, but I hadn’t sent them in to my lawyer to have Hannah sign.
I felt guilty. I didn’t want to drop that on her when she was clearly dealing with her own problems. I wasn’t a cruel man and didn’t want to cause her any undue stress. I would never forget seeing the look of pure misery on her face that night. I had felt terrible for her. There was no way I was going to be the cause of more stress for her. It was still hard for me to believe she was pregnant. I didn’t know if it was mine. I wavered between extremely pissed and jealous to sad. If the child was mine, I was missing out. If it wasn’t, I couldn’t really blame her for moving on. I hadn’t exactly been the best man for her, but it still pissed me off to think of her with someone else.
I opened the fridge, the cool air washing over my bare torso still covered in a layer of sweat from my workout. I grabbed the bottle of water and drank heartily, replenishing the fluids I had lost during my grueling run. The divorce papers were on the counter haunting me. I grabbed them and stuffed them in a drawer. I was tired of looking at them. I’d send the damn things when I was ready.
Feeling refreshed after downing the water, I headed for the bathroom, ready to shower and get on with my day. I was going to pick up some flowers and head to my mom’s. She had been making a remarkable recovery and was already moving around. I had been hiding away too long. I wanted to see her and show her I was doing fine. I knew she worried about me. I had barely made it down the hall when I heard the doorbell.
There were few people on my list who were allowed up without being announced. I wasn’t expecting company and assumed it was probably my brother coming by to lecture me about not visiting mom. I walked to the door and opened it, shocked to find Hannah standing there.
“Hi,” she said in a soft voice.
“Hi,” I said dumbfounded by her presence.
She stood there looking at me with those wide blue eyes. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun that always looked sexy as hell on her. Her skin glowed. I was glad to see she was back to being in good health after the last time I had seen her. I opened the door, gesturing for her to come in. She shook her head and started digging in her massive purse. I couldn’t help but look at her belly carefully concealed behind a bulky sweater. I hadn’t seen any gossip about her being pregnant and had a feeling she was keeping it quiet. I was secretly relieved. I wasn’t ready to tell my family my estranged wife was pregnant and chances were it was another man’s child.
“Here,” she said, handing me a couple photos.
I took them and stared at the picture that declared it was the face, with little notes pointing out the lips and nose. It was her baby. Our baby?
“Wow,” I muttered, staring at the next picture of the baby’s hand that appeared to be waving.
I suddenly felt overwhelmed at seeing the pictures of the child. It was all very real in that moment. I looked up at her, unable to stop grinning. My grin faded when I saw the look of sadness on her face. She looked as if she were ready to burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking back at the pictures and then her belly, terrified something had gone horribly wrong.
She looked at me, shaking her head. “What happened?”
“What? What do you mean?” I questioned, wondering what she was talking about.
“With us? Where did it all go so wrong?” she whispered.
“Come in. Let me get you some water,” I said, reaching for her hand and gently pulling her inside the apartment.
She willingly followed. I grabbed another bottle of water and handed it to her. I knew it was silly, but I felt like I needed to do something to make her feel better.
“Grayson, I look at those pictures and I feel so lost. How did my life end up where it is?”
I didn’t have the answers. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
“I had a company. My career was going along great. Then I met you and I thought we had something real. Our wedding was beautiful and for a few short hours, I thought my life was great. And then, in a blink of an eye, I realized it wasn’t real. None of it was real. Everything crashed down around me. I don’t understand how things got so bad?” she said with so much emotion in her voice I could feel it in my own heart.
I shook my head. “It was real.”
She smiled. “I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby, and the father and I don’t speak. I don’t think it was very real.”
“Hannah, I’m sorry. I am not great at this.”
“At what?” she asked.
I waved a hand between the two of us. “Relationships. People in general.”
She smirked. “You don’t say?”
“My baby?” I said, looking at the picture of the forming face once again.
I couldn’t understand the connection I felt to the images. It was as if
somewhere, some part of me knew it was my baby. I was looking at the face of my baby.
“Yes, Grayson. I don’t know who or what you think I am, but it is your baby. It’s insulting that you think otherwise.”
I nodded, looking up at her again. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just—”
I stopped talking, realizing I would only make things worse if I told her I had been convinced she’d slept with another man after we split. I’d already stuck my foot in my mouth. I didn’t need to make it worse.
“I know what you were going to say. You thought I was with another man because you don’t trust me. That’s the worst part in all this. You don’t trust me. I thought I was getting into something real,” she said wistfully.
I sighed. She knew me too well. “Hannah, I’m trying to be different. I know I took some things for granted, including you.”
She nodded. “Yes, you did. It’s too bad it had to be after everything fell apart that you realized it.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as she drank her water. I didn’t want her to leave. I looked at her belly once again. If I didn’t know she was pregnant and hadn’t seen the pictures, I wouldn’t be able to tell. I longed to reach out and touch her, kiss her. My body craved hers. The erotic dreams had left me with a serious case of blue balls. No other woman would do. I didn’t want anyone else.
“I’ve missed you,” I said telling her exactly what was on my mind.
“I’ve missed you,” she replied.
I stepped toward her, reaching out to take the bottle of water from her hand. Her eyes held mine as I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her body close to mine. I held her, feeling the evidence of her pregnancy pressing against my body. I took a second to just relish the feel of my child against my body, safely cradled in hers.
I couldn’t stop myself. I lowered my mouth to hers, pressing my lips to hers tentatively, unsure what her response would be. Her body immediately relaxed against mine, giving me the approval I was seeking. I pressed my lips harder against hers, demanding she part her lips and give me the taste of her I wanted.
I inhaled through my nose, her scent filling my senses as I tasted her. Having her in my arms was like coming home after being gone for months. It was her embrace I always dreamed about. Her touch I longed for. In that moment, I could think of nothing else but the woman in my arms.
Chapter 66
Hannah
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should stop what was happening. I hadn’t gone to his house for an afternoon delight. I had really wanted to show him our baby’s first picture and nothing more. At least that’s what I told myself. Deep down, I had been longing for him. I missed him in every way. His mouth against mine was too good to deny. I would give myself this one last time I vowed. One more time to get him out of my system and then I would never look back.
His hands cupped my ass, lifting my pelvis against him. I felt his erection and knew there was no way I could stop what was happening. I wanted him too badly.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, suddenly relaxing his hold.
“I’m fine, don’t stop.” I heard myself say.
He stepped back before lifting me and setting me on the countertop. He stepped between my legs and kissed me. I liked when I was a little higher than him. I liked looking down on him and controlling the depth of the kiss. His hand reached between my legs, sending shivers of desire racing through my body.
I wasn’t going to wait for him to do it. I pushed my leggings down my hips, thankful for elastic waistbands, lifting my one side from the counter and then the next. He took over from there and pulled my panties and leggings down my legs, quickly pulling off my shoes and leaving me bare from the waist down. I didn’t care that I was sitting on his countertop.
The hormones were making me a horny woman and I had the man who filled my erotic dreams ready and willing in front of me. I was taking full advantage. His hand moved between my legs once again. His fingers, gently parting my folds. I opened my legs wider, ready to take all of him inside my body.
“You’re already so wet,” he said in a guttural tone, his fingers playing with my clit and driving me crazy.
“I am. I need you,” I begged.
“I’m going to make you come hard on my fingers,” he said, his eyes holding mine as he said the words.
I nodded. “Okay,” I whispered, ready to agree to anything at that point.
He slid his index finger inside. My eyes closed as I let my body adjust. It had been a while and his invasion was sweet, sweet heaven.
“How many?” he asked.
My eyes opened, searching his eyes for clarification. “How many?” I repeated.
“How many fingers do you want me to fuck you with?” he said in a way that nearly made me orgasm.
I loved how vulgar he could be. It made me hot, wet, and begging for more of his dirty talk. “Two,” I whispered the word.
I felt my pussy stretching as he pushed a second finger inside me. I was panting with need. It wasn’t enough. I put my arms behind me, leaning my body back, making room for him to push higher. His free hand reached under my sweater, sliding under my bra and tweaking one of my nipples.
I gasped. “Oh God,” I said, moaning.
“How many, Hannah? Tell me how many fingers do you want me to put inside you?”
I bit my lower lip, embarrassed to ask for more. “Three.” I moaned, my head falling back as I stared up at his ceiling.
“Three,” his guttural voice told me how turned on he was.
His two fingers slid out of my pussy, the wetness touching my inner thigh as he rubbed around my clit.
“Ohhhhhh.” I moaned out as he found the sweet nub pushing against it before gently pinching.
The sensations nearly had me flying off the counter.
“Three?” he asked again.
My hips were moving upward, begging to be fucked. I was humping the air, begging for his fingers. “Yes!” I demanded.
One hand went to my hip while his three fingers slowly pushed inside, stretching me with every centimeter. I went still. I couldn’t move as his fingers slid in. I was paralyzed by the sweet agony sending spirals of ecstasy to every nerve ending inside my body.
“Is that what you want?” He growled.
I whimpered.
“Tell me it’s what you want or I’m pulling out before you can come. I want to hear you say it,” he demanded.
I could feel his fingers retreating. “Yes, yes, yes, I want it. More,” I begged.
His fingers slid back inside. I could feel little contractions, my body responding with pure pleasure.
“You’re close, I can feel your pussy squeezing my fingers,” he said, wiggling his fingers inside my body.
His hand reached behind me, undid my bra before squeezing my breast. “Oh no,” I mumbled, feeling the rising orgasm.
“Oh yes. Do you like me squeezing your tits?” he said, his finger and thumb pinching my nipple.
I cried out, pleasure and pain and the complete fullness between my legs making me crazy. I writhed on the counter, losing strength in my arms. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and gave in to the sensation to lie down on the counter, his hand firmly between my legs.
“Oh fuck yeah, let me see your sweet pussy, my fingers deep inside.” He was growling, pushing my long sweater out of the way.
I raised my head to look down my body, seeing his hand between my legs and his eyes focused on that spot.
“Grayson.” His name was a shouted plea for mercy.
My body was too tight. I needed a release.
“What do you want?” he demanded, his fingers working inside me.
“Come,” I muttered the word.
“You want me to make you come? Should I finger you or do you want to ride my dick?”
I nodded. “Yes!”
“Yes, you want me to finger you?” he teased, his fingers pulling out of me, my body automatically trying to stop the retreat, clamping down
tight.
“Yes!” I screamed out in frustration as he slid his shorts down his legs.
“I don’t know. I think you want my cock,” he said, using his hand to bounce the head of his cock over my swollen pussy.
“Yes! Please, Grayson.”
He pushed inside me in one long, full thrust. The orgasm was immediate. I had been teetering on the edge for too long. It was everything I needed. I moaned and thrashed on the counter as he slid in and out of my body.
“Damn, girl. You needed that, huh?” He cooed from above me.
He had no idea.
His hand reached up, pulling me to a sitting position on the counter before he gently lifted me down, turning me around and sliding back inside without another word. I braced myself, pushing back with every thrust, giving as good as I got. I could hear his grunts of excitement with every thrust backward.
“Harder.” He groaned.
I pushed against him, my hands gripping the counter as I ground my hips backward.
“Fuck me!” he roared.
I felt my own excitement ramping up with his. I loved making him crazy out of his mind with passion and need.
“Fuck me!” I demanded, rocking against him before pulling away, spinning around and attacking him with my mouth. I tackled him to the floor of his kitchen and jumped on his dick, fucking him hard and fast, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Shit, Hannah, wait.” He was gasping for air.
I didn’t let up. I drove on, higher and higher, demanding more from him. My body hungry for his. I rode him as if he were a bucking bronco.
“Fuck!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls as his body arched and spasmed under mine.
I rode him through his orgasm until my own body erupted around his. I had been possessed by a wild woman and now that she had been sated, I collapsed on top of his chest, struggling to catch my breath. His own ragged breathing and pounding heart matched mine.
“Wow,” I muttered, my mouth against his chest.
