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She smiles sweetly and backs out the door, nearly stumbling on a rock as she moves. I hate it when I forget and leave the stove on. It’s only happened once, thankfully, but the fear is always there.
When she’s gone, I drag in a breath and turn up the TV. They’re making some version of dumplings at looks pretty good, though I’d leave out the grilled onion.
When my plate is empty and the muffins are nearly gone, I waddle up from the couch, pour a big glass of milk, and head toward the bedroom. Talking about, seeing, and even thinking about Max has left me with wet panties more times today than I care to count. And like eating these days, my hormones are insatiable unless attended to.
I pull my vibrator out of the drawer and lay back, adjusting it against my clit. The angle is hard to get to given the fact that my arms are so short and my stomach is so big, but I make it work.
And after the day I had, I have to make it work.
Seeing him today was like a punch in the ovaries. He’s so big. So, so big. I’d forgotten how rough his hands are, how deep his voice is, how strong he is. I’m not sure what he ever saw in me to begin with. The man could have any woman he wants. He’s that kind of masculine. The kind that transcends socioeconomic status and age alike. Max is the kind of guy all women fantasize about. He’s rough, aggressive, possessive, and he doesn’t take no for an answer.
I close my eyes and drift off to the thought of our last night together. He’d leaned into my ear, bit the nape of my neck, and growled, “You were naughty today, little cat.” I’m tied naked to the back of his bike. My nipples are hard, and my thighs are aching.
Spank after delicious spank, he’d whip my ass with his bare hand and bite my nipples, scraping his teeth against my flesh as his finger rolls over my clit.
I was hollering out, begging for release.
“Tell me who you belong to, kitty. Who owns you?” He’d spank me again.
My clit throbs as I work the vibrations carefully.
His big body, his rough voice, his sandpaper hands. God, it was all so… intense.
I grind the vibrator faster and swallow hard as I near the edge of my orgasm.
My mind shifts to another day. His tongue against my nipples, and his fingers shoved inside of me. We were outside at the rodeo, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He tugged up my skirt, pushed me against the side of the building, and went for it. He’s an animal. Feral. Wild. Untamed.
My thighs tense and energy flies down my spine until convulsions take over and I’m soaking my sheets.
God, I want him back, just for one night. One night alone with him. One night to hold him and remember what we used to be. One night of pleasure.
The orgasm was supposed to quell the urges, but now, I just want him more.
If I had to estimate, I’ve thought of Max nearly five thousand and four hundred times in the past nine months.
If I’m over him, why am I thinking of him that much? I have a baby on the way. Math is math, but that math… that math, is wrong.
I slide my vibrator to the ground and drag in a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirs above me. I have no idea what I’m going to do. Any day now this baby girl will come headfirst into the world, and I’ll be her sole provider. The person who loves her, cares for her, feeds her, clothes her. I’ll be everything.
Little does she know… I have no idea what I’m doing.
I should tell my mom. I’m sure she’d understand. She understands most everything. Hell, I’m sure she’d be excited for grandkids at this point. She’s had a pretty hard year with losing my dad and all. Then again, she’d probably ask too many questions, and that’s one thing I’m not ready for…. the truth.
Chapter Four
Max
It’s around midnight when I pull up outside of the little cabin in the woods. I’ve been to two other places, and this is the first that looks alive.
It’s a small place. I’d bet one bedroom. A smokestack chimney billows grey clouds into the moonlit sky and fallen pine needles blanket the ground surrounding the area.
Pine and cedar erase most of the other scents that could be lingering, though the faint hint of smoke does come through as well.
Inside, there’s one single light drifting from the kitchen. Curtains cover the windows, but the shadow of a person reflects through.
I crunch through the forest, maneuvering behind trees toward the house with my gun drawn. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I’m sure by the way the shadow sits that he’s not expecting anyone. It’s a slumped look that tells me he’s relaxed, not on alert.
On the side of the house, there’s an open window and a few cut logs which are easy enough to stack, allowing me to climb in if I choose.
