Page 4 of Finally Forever
His mouth covers my nipple. He sucks hard and pounds into me until I feel him everywhere.
“Sebastian!” I cry out as every muscle in my body contracts, squeezing him and trying to draw him in deeper.
“Oh, God! Ainsley!” he roars and comes inside me.
2
Ainsley
Later, when our skin has cooled, our hammering hearts have slowed, and the scent of sex has started to fade, Sebastian lifts his head from the crook of my neck.
“I’m crushing you,” he whispers and plants a kiss on my cleavage before lifting up and shifting some of his weight off my chest.
If I could speak, I’d say I don’t care. I don’t have the strength to care. “That was…”
“Fucking amazing.” He finishes my thought.
I nod, or try to, and inhale a deep breath with my eyes still closed. He’s still inside me, even though he’s shrinking by the second, which is a good thing. I’m going to be sore after sex like that. Not that I mind.
“I’m slipping out of you,” he says, mirroring my thoughts.
“Mm-hm.” It’s all I can offer.
His weight lifts off me more and he slides out of me. The loss of him and my sensitivity cause me to moan.
“Are you okay—shit!” He jumps back on the couch. “Holy shit!”
Adrenaline pumps through me. My eyes pop open, and I sit up. “What? What is it?”
I glance around the room. Is someone here? Why else would he be freaking out? From what I can tell, we’re alone. Warm liquid eases down my inner thigh. What the—?
Sebastian swipes his shirt off the floor and wipes his cum from between my legs. “I’m so sorry.” The way he says it, like he hurt me somehow, gives me pause.
Once I’m clean, he uses the shirt to wipe himself off, too. Then he stands and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. “You should go to the bathroom.”
I always do after we have sex. Harper, my college bestie, said peeing after sex is essential for keeping infections away. But I know why he’s telling me to go now. I also know it won’t make a difference. I can’t pee out his sperm.
I try not to think about it as I hurry to the bathroom and push with all my strength to empty my bladder in case I can, by some miracle, expel his sperm from my uterus. Geez. It even sounds absurd in my head. I wipe and wipe until I’m dry and then I turn on the shower. I’m still naked, and Sebastian hasn’t come in to see if I’m okay. Of course, I’m okay. I’m not hurt, but holy shit, what if we just made a baby?
I can’t have a baby. Not now. That was never the plan. I’m not even married. Even though, I understand that the taboo of having a baby before marriage is dated, I had always envisioned it that way for me: engagement, wedding, house, dog or cat, then a baby.
Oh, God. My knees shake. I stare out the window, eyes fixed on the pale blue sky and sapphire water.Please, God, don’t let me be pregnant.
It wouldn’t be fair to us or a baby. Can we even have a baby while in hiding? I mean, I know it’s possible, but should we? Wouldn’t the baby always be in danger, too?
Why had I never thought about this stuff before?
The room steams, and the mirror above the sink fogs. I hop in the shower and wash myself without thinking. Once I’m clean, I grab the towel from the hook just outside the shower door and dry off, my mind numb.
Did I wash my hair? It’s wet. Did I use conditioner? I can’t remember.
I wrap the towel around my body and secure it at my cleavage. How could we have done that? We don’t have unprotected sex. Ever. We use birth control and as of lately, condoms.
I drop down to sit on the side of the clawfoot tub, my stomach churning like I ate a loaf of stale bread.
If I was still on the pill this wouldn’t be a problem. But my birth control prescription ran out last month. I made a new patient appointment with an OBGYN, but it’s not for another week. After seeing an OBGYN in Germany and struggling to communicate clearly with him, I try to find doctors who are fluent in English. Not an easy task in a small European village—and we’re always in small, less touristy villages. We’re always moving to different countries too, which doesn’t help.
I need to think.
