Chapter 26

Gigi

“Will cocaine hurt the baby?”

I avoid Jameson’s eyes even though I can feel the fire from them burning into the side of my face.

“Any drugs including cigarettes, excessive amounts of caffeine and some over the counter medications can be harmful to the fetus,” Dr. Davison explains. “How often are you using? There are programs—”

“I haven’t.” I shake my head, the only thing I can think to do to keep the tears burning my eyes from falling. “The night…”

I look over at Jameson, but he’s looking down at hands knotted together in anger, not in disappointment. His anger I can handle. Knowing he’ll meet my eyes and I’ll see the same disappointment that’s been so familiar on my parents’ faces will be unbearable.

“The night I conceived. I used cocaine that night. I haven’t used since then.”

I’m speaking to Cam, but my eyes stay on Jameson, begging him to look at me, praying he’ll still want me. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I vowed to be the best mother I can be, and I knew I’d worry relentlessly if I didn’t know.

“Look at me.” I feel Cam’s hand on my shoulder. When I turn to face her, she pushes a tissue into my hand, and it’s only then that I realize the tears have begun to fall. “Your baby will be fine. There’s minimal risk so long as you don’t use again.”

I nod, and she continues.

“Is it something you’re struggling with? There are programs I can refer you to.”

I shake my head. “I’m okay. I haven’t even thought about drugs in months. It was something I did to make my life easier. It made doing my job easier.”

I look back at Jameson. His face is a passive mask, and I realize his indifference is much, much worse than disappointment.

“Okay,” Cam says with one final rub to my back. “Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

I shake my head. “They made me sick, and I couldn’t keep them down.”

“They’re important. Try eating a few crackers and drinking some juice or ginger ale before even getting out of bed in the morning. According to your paperwork, you’re nine weeks along. Morning sickness tends to ease up in the second trimester, so you only have a few more weeks to go.”

“Thank you.” I give her a weak smile.

She hands me a card from the front pocket of her white coat. “My cell number is on there. You call me if you have any questions. Tell your mom I said hi.”

Thickness fills the air when Cam and the nurse exit.

“Jameson,” I begin.

He stands, and I pray he’ll walk up to me, comfort me, and tell me everything will be fine, but he turns toward the door. “I’ll wait outside while you get dressed.”

It takes twice as long to get my clothes back on as it did to take them off, even when I did it slowly to tease and taunt Jameson. I get sick, emptying my stomach into the trash, so overcome with worry that I can’t even feel sorry for whoever has to deal with it. I swish my mouth with mouthwash I’ve been carrying in my purse since I get sick all the time.

When I finally make my way out of the room, Jameson is leaning right outside of the door. I can’t speak. I don’t even know what I would say to him, so I just walk past him and Dr. Davison who’s standing up at a computer kiosk and typing in information. My dad will find out about the cocaine use if he wants. Blade can gain access to just about any database in the world. Farmington Women’s Clinic would be child’s play for him.

I feel his heat close, but not close enough as I step up to the business counter to make my next appointment.

“Your co-pay for the exam is thirty dollars,” the nice receptionist says as she hands me a card for an appointment in a month’s time.

“Co-pay?” I ask, but shake my head. Of course, my dad still has me on his insurance. That information would’ve been helpful when I sprained my knee on a new pole routine six months ago. Blade would’ve tracked me down, but I would’ve saved a couple thousand dollars. I would’ve left Dallas before Hound even showed up had I not had to use my savings to pay medical bills.

“I got it,” Jameson says and hands cash over my shoulder.

“No,” I tell him and reach into my purse for my own money.

“Now is not the time to test me,” he growls in my ear.

I step out of the way, thanking the woman when she hands me a printed receipt.

“See you next month,” she says with a bright smile before turning to help the next person behind me.

“Not likely,” I mutter.

He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t say a word as we exit the doctor’s office and make our way down the long hall of doors that lead to other practices.

I yelp in surprise when he pushes open the door to the family restroom and drags me inside. He doesn’t even bother to flip on the light, but I can still see how angry he is in the glow of the red exit sign above the door.

“You planning on running?” I shake my head. A lie. It’s my first instinct at his reaction to my confession in the exam room. “I’m pretty fucking sure that’s exactly what ‘not likely’ meant.”

I snap my head up, not realizing I said it loud enough for him to hear.

“I’ll find you,” he warns as his hands go first to the buckle of his belt, then the top button and zipper of his jeans. “I’ll chase you clear across the world if I have to.”

“I’m not running.”

“Damn right you’re not,” he hisses as one hand strokes his now exposed cock and the other one presses down on my shoulder. “Get on your knees, Gigi.”

I obey without second thought.

The second he presses the glistening tip of his cock against my lips, I moan, knowing this is the very first time I’ve had a dick in my mouth since Jordy convinced me to try to suck his in high school.

“Go slow,” he groans. “Don’t want you to chip one of those pretty teeth.”

I open my jaw wider, but his invasion is still too much. My eyes water as he presses deeper without withdrawing. Breathing through my nose is nearly as unrelenting as his fist in my hair. It may be the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

“Fuck,” he whispers on a pant when I gag. He pulls back an inch or so but then presses in again. “Close your mouth and suck or I’m going to fuck your throat.”

I whimper, hating the choice because fuck if I don’t want to experience both.

I tighten my lips around the shaft, sucking until my cheeks collapse. The unique feel of the metal against my tongue and my lips when he pulls out and pushes back in makes me wet. The saliva dripping from my chin goes ignored as his grip gets even more brutal in my hair.

“I’m not going to last,” he grunts but doesn’t slow the now driving force of his hips.

I press my palms against his tense thighs and relish the feel of the muscles jumping and flexing with his exertion.

“Swallow it all,” he hisses just as his cock jerks in my mouth.

The first thick, salty burst makes me squeeze my watering eyes closed, and I try to focus only on his pleasure. Letting myself actually consider what I’m doing would probably make me puke, so I push it to the back of my mind, sucking and swallowing until he slips free of my mouth.

“Don’t,” he snaps when I raise the back of my hand to my mouth to clear away some of the mess.

He flips the light switch, and we both squint at the sudden illumination of the room. When I can focus again, I see him staring at me, cock still half mast, and hanging from the opening in his jeans. His chest rises and falls in harsh breaths, but he’s looking at me differently. Different from the way he watched me while I danced on stage the first day we met. Different from the way he focuses on my face when I come. And thankfully, different from the way he looked at me when Cam left the exam room after my confession.

There’s danger in his eyes and damned if my body isn’t begging him to do his worst.

“Please,” I beg, standing so I can get closer to him.

“You need something?”

His thumb sweeps over the corner of my mouth before dipping inside. I toy with it against my tongue, the tang of his orgasm renewed in my mouth.

I nod and squirm, shifting back and forth in my ballerina flats.

“No.” One simple word. An order he expects me to obey without questions.

I watch, mouth hanging open at the rejection, as he tucks himself back into his jeans and washes his hands.

“I’m wet,” I purr, running my hands over the muscled expanse of his back.

“I know,” he says as he dries his hands. “You’ll wait.”

“I don’t want to,” I huff, arms crossed over my chest for emphasis.

“You won’t get another chance to come until you’ve taken your punishment.”

“Punishment?” I laugh at the absurdity of his words, all the while my pussy clenching against the soft satin of my panties. “For what?”

“For those orgasms I gave you at the park.” He turns facing me with a damn paper towel and runs it under my eyes. “For those comments and the striptease in the exam room, but more importantly for letting me fuck you in an alley while you were high on coke.”

“Dr. Davison said the baby will be fine.”

“I know he will.” I smile at his insistence that he’s having a son. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that you were a virgin and made the decision to no longer be one while you weren’t at a hundred percent capacity to make fucking decisions like that.”

“I knew what I was doing,” I argue. If anything, the coke made the sex in the alley even better. I would’ve called it euphoric, but every time he’s rammed inside of me since has been just as good.

“Still isn’t going to keep me from spanking your ass later.”

He grabs my hand, flipping the lock on the door and pulling me back into the hallway. A mother with a toddler in a stroller and another baby strapped to her chest glares at us while tapping her mom sandals on the linoleum.

“That’s not what the family restroom is used for,” she hisses.

Jameson shrugs. “What can I say? She’s insatiable.”

We don’t hear her response over my laughter as we make our way outside to the SUV.