Page 9 of Playing With Her

“Eyes, Amelie, I want them on me while my cock fucks you.” She spasms around me, and I’m not even all the way inside. What the hell is she going to do once the entirety of her heat is clutching me is anybody’s guess.

“Then quit messing around.” Her feet that are planted on the mattress help propel her hips up. One orgasm clearly wasn’t enough. I don’t deny her the satisfaction of holding her off. I’m too far gone, needing to rut inside her like a fucking dog in heat. “Yes, God, yes, right there.” I bottom out. She takes my entire length. My body locks up, trying to hold back the sensation of taking her without a condom. Nobody, not one single person, could have prepared me for all the feelings that are rolling through my body.

“Amelie.” Holding back is no longer an option. I thrust my hips backward and forward. She meets me with each movement. My perfect fucking match, Amelie is mine, and the baby she’s growing inside of her is mine, too.

“Boston.” Her voice mirrors the need in my own. This time when we come, it’s together, with no barrier between us, and fuck does she make me want to be a better version of myself.

FIFTEEN

Amelie

Bostonand I didn’t come up for air after he joined me in bed late yesterday afternoon, wearing me out in a way that the two-hour nap didn’t stop me from sleeping through the night. How did he manage that? Well, three orgasms, first trimester pregnancy sleepiness, and him curling his body around mine was all it took, causing me to pass out. Of course, when we woke up, it was to the smell of my mother’s cooking. My stomach rolled, but Boston saved the day yet again. There, on the nightstand, were the soda, saltine crackers, and the prescription he somehow had filled without my knowledge. Another point in my book because I absolutely needed it. After I got to a point where the contents of my stomach were settled down, Boston kissed me goodbye and left to meet with his realtor.

“Okay, never again are you allowed to give me shit. Who is the one who went two days without FaceTiming whom now?” my best friend Eden says on the other end of the line. She called me earlier today, but I couldn’t answer. It killed me not to. I needed to talk to her, cleanse my soul and get things off my chest. But since I didn’t pull my weight yesterday at the Inn, it was time to get my ass in gear as soon as the queasiness subsided. I’ve yet to still tell my mother what’s going on. Eden is first, then my mom. We just won’t tell her that’s how it went. Now there’s a lull in work, everyone is settled for the time being, and Mom is out running an errand, giving me the time I need to talk to my bestie.

“I suck, or rather, I should have, and I wouldn’t be pregnant,” I drop a bombshell of an answer on her. It wasn’t long ago that we were talking about how I’d never find a man like she has. My, my, how the tides have turned.

“Um, excuse me? You want to rewind what you said to me?” The shock on her face, tipped with a smile, she’s not playing anyone in this friendship. College roomies turned long distance besties, we’ve been through a lot together.

“I’m pregnant?” I play dumb, smiling proudly into the screen. I’m sitting outside. The street below is bustling with people. The only worry I had was if Eden would scream through the phone. Thankfully, she didn’t, so no one is going to call the cops with how loud Eden can be in a state of excitement.

“Wow, okay. Well, Boston sure knows how to make his sperm count. You’re going to have to tell me every single thing because he’s been gone for a month. Is he back now? Are you excited? Does he know? Does your mom know? Do you need me and Samuel to come down there?” Leave it to Eden to slam me with questions. Here goes nothing. She’ll know every single thing after I catch her up on the life that is Amelie.

“Yeah, he left me with a parting gift. He’s back in New Orleans. For good. I’m so freaking excited. We got to hear the baby’s heartbeat yesterday. Neither of us had dry eyes, me less than Boston, but you get it. I blurted out that I was pregnant after I fainted. I’m good now, though. Eggs make me hug certain apparatuses, like we did after day drinking, which sucks. Still worth it, though. I’m telling you, then Mom next, and you two are always welcome down here, but not to kick anyone’s ass. Unless you count my dad’s. In that case, I kind of wish Kavanaugh were still a lawyer and he could fuck with him, wear Dad down enough that he’d go away forever.” I go into the fiasco of yesterday morning, telling her about how I found Boston there on the street, feeling like my world exploded when in all reality, it was dumb luck and a case of Noah Boudreaux being scum of the earth. I know you’re supposed to love your family unconditionally; nope, that is no longer an option. Eden takes a sip of her coffee. How she can drink as much caffeine as she does and not have a heart attack, I’ll never understand. Ugh, speaking of which. Boston chastised me about the intake of that, too. I promptly ignored him, too busy worrying about my stomach than the coffee I usually gravitate toward.

“Wow, and you thought my relationship was a whirlwind. I’m pretty sure you skipped past what people would call the norm and are going to have an instant family.” Kavanaugh sneaks into the screen, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Hey, Amelie,” he says.

“Hiya, Kavanaugh,” I respond. It’s an unspoken rule he’s Samuel only to Eden and a handful of others.

“I’m going to grab lunch. Be back soon,” he tells Eden.

“Alright, thank you.” She watches him head out the door, waiting until the door is shut before saying, “Okay, where were we? I swear that man will one day impregnate me by a look alone.” We both giggle. I’m honestly surprised that she isn’t pregnant right along with me.

“Well, if that were the case, I’d have been pregnant by Boston the day we met. My goodness, is that man fine.” We continue our back-and-forth banter. When she asks if she’ll be Aunty Eden as well as the godmother, I roll my eyes at the dumb question. Of course, she will. I have a feeling our child is going to be spoiled with a lot of love, even if my father isn’t around. There’s plenty of others in our corner, between Eden, Kavanaugh, Boston’s brothers, and my mom. I may not know Boston as well as I’d have liked before becoming pregnant, but one thing is for sure: he’d never be the man his father or my father turned out to be.

“Alright, chickee, I’ve got to grab a quick bite to eat and get back to work. I promise I’ll FaceTime you tomorrow.” My turkey sandwich, chips, and fruit sit in front of me. Instead of orange juice, today it’s water.

“Okay, Samuel will be back soon. Love you, Amelie.”

“Love you, too.” We hang up, and my hand already reaches for my sandwich. I’m starving for my first meal of the day.

SIXTEEN

Boston

“And this buildingis actually being sold by the owner?” I ask my realtor. Unlike Amelie and Isabelle, Margaret Smith isn’t a native. Like me, she’s a transplant from another area. A few hours into our appointment and four buildings later, this one finally has potential. The first one was more rubble and less concrete, and we didn’t even take a step into the last one before I told her it wasn’t happening. No way am I going to sink my money into something with potentially little to no profit when other variables are in the mix, outgrowing one site and needing a bigger business front, or should the reverse happen, the business sink like a ship out at sea with two hurricanes hovering around them. I’m not expecting that to happen. Four Brothers has yet to fail at any of our endeavors. I’ll be damned if we do now.

“It is. And by the way, Noah Boudreaux was reported to the police.” I’m not holding my breath. It’s a known fact in any area of the world, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. A slap on the wrist is more than likely the size of it, which sucks for Amelie and her mother. Four Brothers’ attorney and friend, Sylvester Sterling, will be making an appearance once there’s finally a damn lock on the right place.

“That’s good.” I shrug my shoulders. The only person that shit hurt is the one who has my gut tied in knots, a domino effect because what hurts her mother, hurts Amelie. “This place isn’t bad,” I murmur, taking a look at the shell of four concrete walls. The floor is much the same. The metal rafters are in good shape. The size will work, too, with plenty of room to set up multiple office spaces. And at least down in this area, the parking garage is only across the street.

“It’s been on the market for nine months. The sellers are ready to off-load it.” I look down at the pamphlet and note the price. Even with the renovations and setbacks, it could work out.

“Offer them twenty percent below asking price. We’ll see if they’re up to negotiate, put the ball in their court.” I’ve already spent way too much time on finding a building. The last time I was down here, a contract fell through, and, well, that was a shit show of epic proportions. At least now that I’m here permanently, I’ll be overseeing it in the entirety. No fucking around will be happening, even if I have to bring employees from out of state to get this show on the road.

“I’m willing to try. That’s nearly a million below asking price, Mr. Wescott. Are you sure this is the approach you want to take?” Margaret asks. I’m about to fire her, take the middleman out, have Sylvester handle the paperwork and call it a fucking day. This is what I get for being nice, questioned to death, being shown bullshit that she knows won’t work but is wanting a quick commission. The phone ringing interrupts the way I feel about my realtor questioning me, and it’s not my phone either. I should have stayed with Amelie. Leaving wasn’t easy, but she assured me she’d call at the first sign of not feeling okay. I was reluctant, especially when she woke up with a repeat of yesterday’s performance, minus passing out. Jesus, Amelie would be in the hospital this time around if that happened.

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