We returned home with Zackary before the day broke.

Brett carried him, bundled in his blanket, up to his room while I followed. It made me quite happy when he woke up as he was laid down. His eyes were hazy as he tried to adjust to the light from his bedside lamp, his gaze moved from his father to me. He looked pitifully confused and my heart went out to him.

“Hey,” I said and tapped the tip of his nose.

“Where am I?” he asked groggily.

“You are home, in your bedroom,” Brett said.

“Oh.” He yawned tiredly. “My head hurts,” he muttered, lifting his hand to his head.

I caught the hand and pulled it back down to his side, and the poor thing winced at the pain in his arm. Even that little thing had hurt him. I wanted to cry then. I couldn’t say a word, but I reminded myself of what the doctor said. He was going to be fine. No lasting damage had been done.

“Go back to sleep and get some rest, okay,” his father said quietly.

“I don’t feel sleepy. Can Charlotte read Ali Baba And The Forty Thieves for me?”

I was ready to set myself on fire if he had requested it, but I had a better idea. “I have to run to the bathroom now, but,” I pulled out the book from the shelf above his bed, opened it at the bookmark, and thrust it into Brett’s hand, “Daddy will read it for you. I’ll be right back so start without me.”

Brett raised his eyebrows at me, but I motioned to him to take over. Looking mighty uncomfortable he turned back to his son.

Both males looked lost as I began to walk away, but I pretended not to notice. I disappeared from the room, but left the door open just a crack wide so I could watch them.

I watched as Brett started from where I had stopped and began to read the story to Zackary. With a smile I went back to my room. Both April and my mother had called while I was at the hospital so I quickly sent them both a message that I would call them later in the morning. Then I collapsed on my bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Boy! What a night.

I held a hand to my poor heart. From the fright of a lifetime, I had been ushered into the fuck of the century, all within the space of six hours. I couldn’t help the cat-got-the-cream smile that spread on my lips. I thought about what we had done, and the stirrings of arousal ignited and began to ripple through my body once again. It all was still so very vivid, the reminder of how I had been fucked to complete incoherence just a few hours ago.

And we didn’t use a condom.

Even more surprising, I hadn’t wanted one.

And I was the safe one. The one who warned everybody about STDs from one-night stands.

I knew I should get the morning after pill, but I didn’t even want to do that. If I got pregnant from one perfect mating with Brett, then I wanted to keep that precious life. I wanted it more than I wanted anything else. Brett’s baby. My baby. Nobody would understand, but I didn’t care. I touched my stomach and prayed I had become pregnant.

Please God.

Then my thoughts moved on and I began to relive what we’d done in one of the most unromantic places in the world. Broom cupboards would never be the same again. My clit began to throb as I recalled the feel of Brett’s cock in my mouth, and of his wild thrusts as he plunged in and out of me. I needed more. Before the sun fully rose and we all returned to reality. So I got up and opened my door wide to ensure that I did not miss Brett when he left Zackary’s room. Fifteen minutes later he appeared at my door.

“Is he asleep?”

He nodded.

I opened my arms.

“Not here,” he whispered, and he slipped his hands under me and scooped me up into his arms.

“I’m too heavy,” I protested.

“No, you’re not. You’re as light as a feather.”

“Wait,” I said, and grabbed the baby monitor.

He carried me to his quarters and laid me down on his bed. I reached out my hand and pulled his mask away.

“I want to see your beautiful face,” I said.

He kneeled on the floor in front of me. I was already so wet, but I felt myself gush when he said, “Show me your pussy, Miss Conrad, because I am hungry for her.”