18
Wesley
My head spun as I laid Remy out on the bed. Her tits—always so wholesome, so milky and large—were even bigger now. They strained against her T-shirt, making her nipples pop. Even as I looked at this woman who’d agreed to carry my child—to give birth for me!—I still felt my rock-hard cock throbbing in my pants. She filled me with almost boundless sexual energy.
I dove to my knees in front of her, watching as she separated her legs. In one swift move, she unbuttoned her pants and shimmied them down. Within seconds, she removed her panties. My nose filled with the smell of her. Her pussy lips were soft, pink, stretching open for me. As I watched, captivated, Remy reached between her legs and began to stroke herself, gazing into my eyes. Her fingers found the dark hole beneath her clit, disappeared for a second, and came back shiny, wet. Unable to resist, I moved forward, kissing her fingers, tasting her.
“Where the hell have you been?” I whispered, leaning over her. I removed her hand from her pussy and took the lead, sliding my fingers through the wetness. She tossed her head back in response, her eyes finding the ceiling before closing. A long moan escaped her lips. Not wanting to stop this wave, I moved my lips to her naval, dotting little kisses along where I knew our baby was growing. Remy laced her fingers through my hair, yanking it. I knew there were a million little unsaid things between us. I felt a surge of adrenaline to say them all—to say that, fuck it, maybe I did want this baby. That fuck it, maybe settling with Remy wasn’t anything like “settling” with some other woman, who wanted to tie you down and make sure you didn’t live again.
My tongue found the little nub of her clit and rubbed it. Remy moaned wildly now, ripping her T-shirt from her shoulders and allowing her tits to bounce. She squeezed at the large, brown coins of her nipples and stared down at me. She looked like she was unable to comprehend this depth of feeling.
Remy reached for my thighs, lifting her head. Following her lead, my cock nearly ripping from my pants anyway, I brought myself up to her and watched as her little fingers scrambled at the button, revealing me. My dick fell into her hand, making her fingers look so small. Immediately, my cock surged with feeling, straining at her touch. Her fingers toyed with his ridge, making small drops of cum dot along her legs, just below.
Had she been any other woman, I would have told her what to do. To suck my cock long and hard, to deep throat it. But Remy’s eyes burned with years of knowing my body, my mind. Suddenly, her eyes closed, she thrust herself forward, bringing the tip of my cock all the way to the back of her throat. My head lolled back. Her tongue traced the ridges and veins slowly, as if she were marking her territory. My head felt close to exploding.
When she finally drew back, looking at me in a mischievous way, she pressed her hands against my chest and toward the pillow. She straddled me, her large tits bouncing and her hair curling wildly down her chest. She giggled like this was a game. And, I reminded myself, a “game” was very much what we’d been calling it the entire time.
“Did you ever think you’d sleep with me again?” she murmured, bringing her mouth against the firm mound of my shoulder muscle and kissing it lightly, before biting me. Her teeth entered my skin, nearly drawing blood. “Hmm?”
“It’s not like I didn’t think about it, you little monkey,” I said, reaching up and squeezing her ass. I allowed my nails to press, making her squirm and squeal.
Jittery, alive, Remy lowered her pussy down onto my cock and began to hump me—slowly at first, like she was trying to playact as some kind of professional sexy dancer. She let her hips ease back and forth, her ass sweeping against the tops of my thighs. She reached back, cupping my balls and bouncing them slightly, grinning.
The slow, smooth motions drove me wild. I felt seconds from exploding. I sat up fast and flipped her over, sweeping her over the bed. She giggled, yet showed her shock with large eyes. I thrust myself into her from above, feeling her nipples brush against my chest. Holding her eyes with mine, I licked my lips, feeling sweat drip down my forehead, my cheeks.
“Jesus, Rem,” I whispered. “You’re a fucking tiger.”
When we finally did come, we did it together: me, fast and hard and rough, with a small finger up the little dark, tight hole of her ass, making her toss her head back, grip my shoulders for some sort of last tether to reality. When she finally opened her eyes, a few tears fell out. Her lips seemed brimming to say something real. Something perhaps like, “I love you.” But she held it back. She must have known it would overcomplicate it.
We’d already overcomplicated everything.
Remy and I fell asleep in one another’s arms, her cheek tight against my chest. I listened as her breathing slowed showing her entering into darkness. My hand pressed against her lower back, still marveling at the baby that grew beneath.
This baby. It was real now. And—for whatever goddamn reason—I’d agreed to stick around San Francisco while it happened. I’d agreed to be in Remy’s film.
Doctor’s appointments. Table readings. Probably long, sleepless nights while Remy remained awake, unable to calm herself or fight off pregnancy sickness. I was going to be around for all of it.
That familiar pang of regret filled me, making my heart bump wildly in my chest. It was fear. Fear of building something when I hadn’t stuck around to build anything before.
What if I couldn’t do it? What if, when the baby came, I really did run away from the situation as fast and as hard as I could—finding myself with a well-stocked bank account in some wild East Coast town, where no one knew my name? Of course that sounded delicious. All adventure did, to me. But as the thoughts raced, Remy cooed against me—far away in dreamland. This small noise felt bigger, more intimate, more powerful, because I was the only one in the world who’d heard it. I was the only one gifted this time with her, to watch her sleep.
What the hell was I going to do?