Page 36 of Sassy Surrogate
She opens passion-glazed eyes and chuckles. “It’s not exactly like we have to worry about getting pregnant.”
I can’t help but laugh at her sassy comeback. “True.” Only she would think to say something snappy to say at a time like this.
“I trust you. Besides, the tests we had before we started treatment would have shown something if either of us had – well, you know – the cooties or anything.”
Snorting out a laugh, I drop my forehead to hers. “Only you would use the word cooties.”
She grins in response. “Now, if we’re done talking, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could finish the job you started; you kinda left me hanging here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Wrapping a hand around my aching cock, I guide myself to her slick entrance and slowly sink in, giving her time to adjust to me as I go. We groan at the same time, the sensation almost taking me under.
Slowly, I make love to Danica. Gliding through her wetness, I feel myself winding tighter and tighter. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I sink balls-deep into her. This woman is going to be the death of me. Her nails dig into my back as she arches off the bed.
“Heath, I…” Her words fade away, but I feel her inner muscles grip, rippling.
“Let it go, angel. Give it to me. Let me feel you.”
Her fingers flex, her nails digging deeper, and I know I’ll have marks, but dear god, it’s worth it. A few more strokes, and she comes apart spectacularly. Danica in the throes of her release is a magnificent sight to behold.
Impossibly tight, her pussy walls milk me as I push into her one last time, unable to withstand the pleasure and I freefall into my own orgasm, following her over the precipice and into the abyss of fulfilment.
18
Danica & Heath
Silicon Valley - Eighteen Months Ago
DANICA
I survey the room, turning slowly to check all areas, to ensure that nothing is out of place and all is ready for our guests. Rebecca, Graham, Soraya, Chloe, and Lorenzo are due to arrive for a backyard barbeque any moment, and I want it all to be perfect.
Damn it, I’ve forgotten to put the chips and dip out. There’s always something these days. I’m told it’s pregnancy brain.
Whatever it is, it’s damn annoying.
At a little over eight months’ gone, I slowly waddle toward the pantry to fetch the offending chips. Just shy of the door to that room, the front gate buzzer sounds.
“It’s all right, baby. I’ve got it,” Mom says as she makes her way to the front door.
“Thanks, Mama.” I keep going and hear muted voices as she answers the buzzer. Spotting what I’m looking for, I grab it and head back out of the pantry.
Sudden shouting rings out, and I hurry as best I can back the way I came only to find my mother struggling to free herself from the grip of some strange man near the front door. A second stranger is standing in the living room, a gun pointed at my grandparents where they’re sitting on the sofa.
Standing in the front doorway is a man I’ve never seen before. He’s smartly dressed in a conservative suit; white shirt and the gaudiest tie I think I’ve ever had the misfortune to see. Looking ill-at-ease at his side is none other than my father.
“What the hell is going on here?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking.
My hand goes protectively to my protruding belly, and the man at the front door’s eyes follow the movement. He gives me a cold smile, then steps into the foyer.
“Excuse the intrusion. It seems you’re expecting company, so I won’t keep you long.” His eyes are flat and lifeless, putting me in mind of a circling shark about to attack. A shiver of unease makes its way down my spine, and I fear that nothing good will come of this “visit.” Since my father is here with him, I can only imagine it has something to do with his incessant gambling and borrowing habits.
“Leave her alone, you low life,” my mother says, a thread of steel I’ve never heard in her voice.
He turns to look at her, tilts his head, and the next thing I know the goon with a grip on her arms hauls off and backhands her.
I’ve always thought that the saying “seeing red” was pure nonsense. Apparently, it isn’t, because I experience that very thing as I watch her head snap back with such force I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have whiplash.
