Page 64 of Tuck & Roll

He tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, hoping she’d get the hint he didn’t want to talk.

“What do you think of the name Samuel Garrett?” she asked. “We could call him Sam.”

Fuck. Here we go again. She’d asked his opinion of names all week. First was Lucas Martin, Martin being her father’s name. Then there was Chase Matthew. Then Conner David. Then Johnathon Levi. He told her he didn’t care one way or the other since it wasn’t his kid. And he honestly didn’t think it was his. He never fucked her without a condom. Never. After the initial shock, he’d thought about it a lot and the only thing he could come up with for her being pregnant during the time they were together was if she’d been fucking around behind his back.

When he didn’t comment on the new name she’d picked out, she threw out another one. “Okay. How about Trent Michael? I really like that one.”

He’d just taken a drink at the same time she’d thrown out that name, causing him to choke. “Are you trying to get his ass kicked?”

“What? What’s wrong with Trent?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about it’s a sissy name that rich white boys have that grow up to be lawyers, accountants or over-privileged dicks?”

“Humph. What would you know? You’re just a,” she stopped before she stuck her foot in her mouth.

“A what? A dumb biker?”

Taylor sighed heavily. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t come out here to fight. I was hoping you’d want to take a more active role in the baby’s life since we found out it’s a boy.”

Tuck felt like an ass. She was trying to make this work between them and he was being a dick. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.” He tipped his head back and took another drink. He held the bottle in front of him and saw it was half empty. Hmm. How long had he been out here? Long enough to feel a moment of guilt for the way he’d been acting toward her.

“Do you remember when we were together in high school? How we talked about marriage and kids?” she asked almost wistfully.

What he remembered was her bitching about him prospecting for the SORMC and how much time he spent at the club. He also remembered her accusing him of cheating on her with the club whores.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it?” she asked. He could feel her eyes on him as he stared into the backyard.

“No. The blowjobs were really good,” he joked. He glanced her way and saw the way she was looking at him. “Don’t even think about it. Not gonna happen.”

“Did you ever love me?” she asked quietly. Looking closely at her, he wondered if her look of vulnerability was for real or was it her way of trying to work him again? It was always so hard to tell with her.

“Thought I did at one time,” he admitted and took another drink.

She leaned back with her hands behind her, drawing his eyes to her stomach. She was wearing another one of his shirts, her tits straining the material across her chest. He chuckled. “Can’t believe your tits are that huge.”

Her gaze became heated as they dropped to his mouth. He swallowed hard. He needed to get away from her and the seductive web she weaved. He was drunk and horny. Not a good combination. He wanted to fuck Kylie with a desperation he’d never known before.

Taylor gasped, her hand settling on her stomach. She smiled and turned more toward him. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Feel that?” The baby kicked her stomach again.

It was the craziest thing he’d ever felt. Part of him wanted the baby to be his, but only if Taylor wasn’t the mother. He’d rather it be Kylie. The baby kicked again and his eyes shot to Taylor’s, unable to hide his happiness at feeling such a wondrous thing. In slow motion, she moved his hand up her stomach and to her tit. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. He instantly recognized the look on her face. She was horny and wanted to fuck. He thought he read somewhere, or one of the married brothers at the club had told him, that pregnant women’s sex drive kicked into overdrive and they wanted sex all the time.

Instantly sober, he swallowed hard as he slowly removed his hand. He stood with his bottle in hand, intending to go inside and take a shower. He needed to jackoff to memories of Kylie. She was the only woman he wanted to fuck. Even with the history he had with Taylor or her not so subtle offer, he still had no desire to fuck her.

In his bathroom, he stepped into his shower, dipping his head under the hot water and thought of Kylie. His dick went instantly hard and painful. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock to images of Kylie and him fucking. He loved the way she fucked so completely uninhibited. A groan escaped as he gripped his cock harder, pretending it was her tight pussy gripping him, wanting to wring his cum from him. He was so caught up in the fantasy, he didn’t hear the sound of his shower door sliding open. He jerked at the feel of Taylor’s hand gripping his dick in her hand and her stomach and tits pushing into his back.

He spun around, careful not to knock her over. “Get out! Now!”

“Tuck. Why don’t you let me help you with that?” She dropped her gaze to his dick.

“No! Get out!” When she didn’t make a move to leave the shower, he grabbed her firmly by the upper arms and spun them around so that she was under the spray and he could get out of the shower. He grabbed a towel off the counter and wrapped it around his waist. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Her only response was to cup her own tit and pinch her nipple while the other hand smoothed down her round stomach and dipped between her legs. She had to bend to reach her pussy. She inhaled sharply as her fingers made contact with her clit.

“If you don’t cut your shit, I’m going to pack you up and drop you on your parents’ doorstep.” That got her attention. She straightened immediately, her mouth opening to say something he knew he didn’t want to hear. He left the bathroom before she could say anything. He pulled out gym shorts, underwear—because she’d proven he couldn’t trust her not to molest him in his sleep—and a t-shirt from his dresser. He was dressed before Taylor emerged from his bathroom, the towel held in front of her. She treated him to one of her “this isn’t over” glares as she walked out of his room, her ass on full display because the towel didn’t wrap all the way around her.

“Fuck.” He scoured his face with both hands. Shit. He’d go to bed now, but it was still too early and he doubted he’d be able to sleep now that she’d had him riled up and scared the drunk right out of him. The sound of someone knocking on his door was an instant relief. Please be somebody from the club.

He answered the door and found Jed standing on his porch holding a six-pack of his favorite beer. “Thank God.” He opened the door and waved him inside.

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