Chapter Eight
Paige
I found myself surprisingly nervous when I went to Michael's house that evening. I frowned, wondering where those feelings were stemming from. Sure, the reason for my being there was that we were trying to conceive a child, but what it boiled down to was, it was just another fuck. Maybe a slightly more meaningful one than what I was used to, but it wasn't like Michael was looking for a relationship with me. In fact, he was emphatically not looking for a relationship with me.
When Michael answered the door, he smiled and pulled me into an awkward hug, as though he didn't quite know how to proceed. I grinned: that made two of us.
“Dinner's already on the table,” he told me, leading me into his beautiful penthouse apartment.
I walked past the table for a moment, utterly enchanted by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall of his apartment. He had the most incredible view out over the city, which was currently twinkling colorfully in the fast-fading evening light. “Wow,” I breathed.
Michael was still smiling at me when I turned around. “I picked this place for the view alone,” he said.
“It's impressive,” I said. Then, I got a good view of the dinner table. He hadn't lit candles or anything cheesy like that, but with the pasta and the wine and the centerpiece, it was undeniably romantic. I frowned at him. “I didn't realize this was that kind of thing,” I said slowly.
Michael grimaced. “I didn't cook the food. Or set the table,” he told me. “I asked my maid to do it for me while I was finishing some things at work. She kind of went over the top. I hope that's okay?”
“This isn't meant to be a romantic dinner with your girlfriend?” I asked, just to clarify. Maybe he was looking for something completely different out of this. Of course, we had signed the contract, so I didn't think he was looking for a relationship, but then again, I didn't know the guy.
I remembered how lonely he had seemed the other night at the bar, and I wondered if maybe he wanted something more than a child, but he didn't know how to go about it. Maybe he thought if he took care of me during the baby's pregnancy, I would have to fall in love with him, and that would be that.
I swallowed hard, wondering why the thought of being in a relationship with him didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Honestly, it seemed kind of nice, thinking about the domestic life that we could build together.
I shook my head and gave one last look at the table. “Let's just get this over with,” I said.
If I wasn't mistaken, Michael grimaced a little, but he hid it well enough. He went over to the table and grabbed the glasses of wine, bringing one over to me. “How about this,” he said. “Instead of sitting down to a romantic meal at the table, we'll grab the plates and bring them over to the couch? We'll have a great view out over the city, but it'll be casual. More like two friends eating together than anything else.”
I snorted, wondering whether sitting side-by-side on the couch was less romantic than sitting across from one another at the table. I took a sip of my wine and reached up to unbutton his collar. “Or,” I suggested, “we could just forego the dinner entirely and get down to the real business.”
My voice was already lusty, and I could tell from the answering look that he was giving me that he was every bit as impatient to have sex as I was. I could feel heat pooling in my core already, my panties going damp. And when I looked down, I realized that his member was pressing against the front of his slacks. Good.
Michael took a sip of his wine as well, giving me a considering look. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his fingers brushing back a stray lock of my hair.
I nodded. I didn't know where my resolve was coming from, but I didn't regret signing the contract, no matter how many unanswered questions there were about what this was meant to be. I had to take it at face value.
I stood on my tiptoes and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was heated, as though we'd both been waiting a long time for it to happen. His lips moved against mine, asking a silent question, and I opened my mouth, already desperate for more. I used my grip on the lapels of his shirt to pull myself to him until there was no space between us, and I could feel his firm chest pressing against my breasts.
As though reading my mind, Michael brought a hand up to cup one of those breasts, playing with my nipple through the fabric of my shirt and bra. I whimpered, wanting him to strip me down and touch me for real, but he was taking things slow.
I frowned, wondering again if he was somehow more of a romantic than he had let on.
But those thoughts were chased from my brain by the feel of his tongue sliding against mine, drawing little whimpers out of me. My knees felt weak, and it was only his strong arm around my lower back that kept me upright, pressed against him.
I couldn't help it: he used the perfect amount of pressure and finesse, immediately finding my tender spots and using them to his advantage. I could only imagine how this was going to go once we moved it to the bedroom.
Again, it was like Michael read my mind. He nipped at my lower lip, causing a hot spark of lust to course through me. Then, he pulled away from the kiss, giving me a quizzical look. “Bedroom?” he suggested.
I blinked, feeling as though it took all my brainpower to focus on him again. Ooh, I was in it deep. He had already touched me, and already I was coming apart for him. “Bedroom,” I agreed breathlessly.
Michael grabbed my hand and led the way.
Before I had a chance to take in what the room looked like, Michael was on me again. This time, it was his fingers that were impatiently undressing me, starting with my shirt and ending with my skirt. He took a step back, just staring at me in my panties and bra, and I fought not to blush.
With Erica's help, I had chosen a sexy black number that bordered on lingerie rather than everyday wear. I was glad for it now, seeing the way Michael's eyes darkened. I raised an eyebrow at him and made my way over to the bed, stretching out on it and giving him an expectant look.
Michael shook his head and hurriedly removed his own clothing, leaving it in a pile on the floor. He fished in his pocket for a moment and then froze, giving an embarrassed chuckle. “Guess I won't be needing one of those,” he said, no doubt referring to the condoms that he would normally use. He frowned and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, one of the stipulations in the contract was that you have a full check-up before we did this.”
I couldn’t believe he was thinking about that now. I rolled my eyes. “I had a checkup last month,” I told him. “I go in for one every year. Nothing wrong with me, and no sexual infections.”
“Okay,” Michael said slowly.
I rolled my eyes again. “If we're going to make a baby, you're going to have to trust me,” I pointed out. “I know it's weird to trust someone that you hardly know, but that's what you're getting yourself in for. Are you still willing to do this?”
In answer, Michael knelt on the bed and crawled towards me, covering my body with his warm, tanned one. I ran my hands appreciatively up his muscular torso, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I could feel his hard-on pressing against my hip, and I shifted, trying to get him to quit with the foreplay and get inside me. I felt as though I was going to combust if he didn't.
But if anything, Michael slowed things down even further, trailing kisses across my skin, his hands sliding down and resting on my hips. I whimpered, shifting restlessly, and he moved a hand between my legs, but his touches were playful and almost without intent.
“Michael, please,” I said, my voice soft and plaintive.
Michael drew back, staring down at me. “You're incredibly beautiful,” he said quietly, his hand stroking down my side.
I felt an uncharacteristic blush creep across my features, and I suddenly remembered that we were doing this so that we could create a life. The moment was heavy, impregnated with meaning, and I suddenly wasn't sure that I was ready to do this. But Michael was already pushing inside my wet, slick hole, his member throbbing inside of me, and I couldn't tell him to stop now.
Nor did I want to. God, he fit so perfectly inside of me, as though my hole were made for him. I couldn't help clenching around him, and he gave a quick thrust of his hips in response. I gasped and scrambled to find a hand-hold in the sheets, something to ground me.
Michael grinned at my reaction and repeated the thrust, this time burying himself deeper, practically slicing me in two. I howled with pleasure, unable to hold back. My hands moved from the sheets to his forearms, and I used them for leverage, pushing into his movements and urging him on.
Michael snapped his hips back and forth, pounding into me, and I fell back against the sheets, moaning in ecstasy. I couldn't tell if I was coming or not; the pleasure was totally off the charts. I was shaking all over, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could take this.
Then, Michael slowed down, his movements gentling. He stroked his hands across my body, as though he wanted to touch every inch of my skin. When I managed to make eye contact with him, he was staring down at me as though he couldn't believe that I was there with him. As though he were totally enraptured.
I smiled as he bent down to kiss me, his tongue exploring my mouth. His fingers played with my nipples, and all the while, he continued to slide in and out of my folds.
His movements built again, a crescendo that had me trembling and sobbing beneath him. I clung to him, my hands pulling his body towards me as he opened me up. My eyes closed, and I screamed out his name as I came, shuddering through an orgasm like I'd never felt before.
Michael lowered himself down onto his elbows and thrust his hips a few more times before giving a hoarse cry and spilling waves of hot seed inside of me.