- Chapter Eleven -

Nix

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I'd done it.

I'd literally fucked my way into trouble.

Every calculated decision I'd made in my life, it had run screaming out the door after what I'd done—what we'd done—in that stall.

Abell had broken our agreement.

He'd had sex with me again.

And I...

I was just as much to blame.

Brushing the zipper of my jacket, I cradled my stomach. I hadn't just slept with Abell Birch, playboy extraordinaire. I'd also let him cum inside of me.

I could be pregnant.

Never in my life had I thought about having kids. My parents had soured me on the idea with how they'd treated me and Gram.

But there was an upside to their denial of the typical fuzzy and fun childhood. They'd raised me to be a perfect marketing genius, a woman who could run their company. I hadn't wanted to be a mother, or a wife, or anyone but a top CEO.

Until now.

Shivering in the early morning breeze, I watched my feet as I walked. The world around me felt distant, almost fake. Nothing held my focus except my hazy future with Abell.

I need to talk to him.

We'd said so many words while my wedding dress had hung off of me like the husk of a flower. The questions I still had... the worries... had bloomed full force over the past few days.

This stuff wasn't phone call material.

I had to see him in person.

Approaching his apartment, I lifted my eyes. It was early, I assumed he wouldn't be awake yet. I'd barely slept, myself.

On the curb, I noticed a midnight blue car. I couldn't say what kind it was, just that it looked expensive—brand new. Of course, this was New York City, so fancy cars weren't a shock.

The man who stepped out was.

“Mr. Birch,” I said automatically, pulling up short.

Corin looked at me, his black-gloved hands gripping the edge of his door. “Miss Halloway, what are you doing here?”

I worked my jaw, trying to come up with a good answer, all while struggling to make sense of why my luck was so bad. I had no love for this man, especially after what I'd learned about how he'd treated his late wife.

Hiding my disgust would be a challenge.

“I'm here to see Abell. Is that a problem?”

His face was as flat as a frozen lake. “I'm surprised to see you seeking him out. I didn't think Abram was someone you wanted to associate with by choice.”

I stood taller, digging for the part of me that wasn't intimidated by big wigs like Corin Birch. After all, I'd faced down plenty of pinch-faced men in thousand-dollar suits while working for Halloway Inc.

Who was he to scare me? “We need to discuss a few things,” I said.

“I hope one of them is the grandchild you owe me.”

My hackles went up. On reaction, I grabbed at my belly. Corin saw this, his eyes flicking down to my hands, then to my face. Had I given myself away?

“You know,” I said slowly, “There's a chance that won't happen. What if I can't get pregnant?”

His smile was dripping with slime. “You should really read that contract better. It's not just about the wedding. The clause is quite clear, pregnant within the first year... or everything reverts back to Birch Industries.”

A clause? Of course, Corin wasn't the type to allow wiggle room. I should have known.

My nails chewed into my palms. “Why do you even want a grandchild? You have no love for your own son, how could you care about someone he helped create?”

I must have hit a sensitive spot, because I glimpsed his eyes darkening. Corin carried his own personal shadow, and it made his edges razor-like; a human sword that itched to cut me in two. “Abram is a fuckup, Miss Halloway. A fact that will always be my shame. But there's a chance his child will be nothing like him. Especially with me around to keep him in line.”

He keeps calling his own son a fuckup. That made me bristle. It was true that Abell had some bad habits, but the more time I spent with him, the more good I saw.

Unable to hold back, I spoke with a low, clipped tone. “You're wrong about him.”

He leaned away, eyebrows furrowing harshly. “Excuse me?”

“Abell isn't as bad as you think, and as his father, you shouldn't say such cruel stuff about him.”

His silence was deafening. The man studied me as if he wanted to find the easiest way to dissect my body. “Are you falling for him, Miss Halloway?”

Tripping on my own tongue, I stuttered. “That—what—no! Of course not!” The question left me floating, every possible answer scary in its own way.

Wordlessly he turned, ducking into his car. With the window down, he leaned towards me. “Tell Abell I'll come back later, once he's... done with you.” He started to roll the window up, then stopped. “Never instruct me on how to speak about my son. You don't have the right.”

I didn't have a response. I was saved from trying; he drove away from the curb, vanishing down the street.

What the hell was that about?

I was curious why Corin had been here, was it to berate Abell? Tell him he had better move forward, get me pregnant?

Recalling the slow burn in his voice when he asked if I was falling for his son, I quivered. It was a good question, but not one I wanted to answer.

Pregnant by the first year. Again, I found myself touching my stomach. The habit was becoming unconscious. I have to see Abell. Climbing the steps, I pressed the buzzer for the building.

No one answered.

Frowning, I pushed again, wondering if Abell was so asleep he couldn't hear. Dammit. Sighing impatiently, I dug for my phone, thinking of just calling him. As I turned, I caught movement to my right.

Abell was jogging down the sidewalk, red sneakers pumping as fast as his fists. In one hand, he clutched a black hoodie. His arms were exposed in a muscle-shirt, shiny from sweat so that his tattoo sleeves looked fresh and glossy.

One look at his fit body, and it was easy to forget how strange Corin Birch had been acting. But wasn't Abell freezing?

He's got too much natural heat to freeze.

After all, it was easy to remember how warm his palms had been when he'd slid them along my spine.

The guy is stupidly hot. And I was stupid for being weak to that.

“Hey,” Abell said, slowing down beside me. He leaned in, lips pressing to mine before I knew what was happening. Weren't sweaty people supposed to smell bad? Abell gave off waves of pheromones and sharp pine.

I didn't have time to snap to my senses and end the kiss; he pulled away first, grinning wide. “I guess I'll say 'hey' again,” he chuckled.

Blinking rapidly, I touched my mouth. “What was that for?” Fuck fuck, slow down you crazy heart!

“It wasn't for anything.” He hooked his hoodie over his shoulder. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

Pure joy radiated inside of me. “Really?”

“Sure. Who wouldn't want to kiss their beautiful fiance?”

I swallowed once, then I swallowed again.

Turning towards his apartment, Abell pointed with his chin. “Were you standing out here waiting for me?”

“Ah, yeah.” Now you look desperate. Good job. Poking my toe into the sidewalk, I smiled. “I wanted to... talk.” I'd wanted to talk, but now, gawking over his perfect specimen of a body, I had other ideas.

Perception burned in his frosty eyes. “Your poker face isn't as good as you think it is.”

Adrenaline spiked through me. “What?”

Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me against his hip, guiding me up the steps. “Get inside. Now.” In a flash we were in the building, his apartment door rising up. He ripped it open, nudging me through.

The wood slammed behind us.

Dazed, I turned towards him. “Abell—”

He advanced on me, gripping my cheeks in his hands. His face was inches from mine, his smirk ravenous. “You come here, to my home, the place where we first fucked, and you think I don't know what you're looking for?” His breath scorched my ear, teeth brushing the tender skin. “You came back for more of my cock, didn't you?”

My tongue was sluggish, speaking was a struggle. What do I say? Abell had changed our dynamic. After he'd proven he had the guts to fuck me in my wedding dress, in public no less, I knew he had no limits.

I'd always been so tough and high strung. But with him, my body—my mind—wanted to collapse into a black hole. I wanted to give in, let him flood my cells with pleasure until I was blind and deaf to the world.

His hand grabbed my ass through my jeans, squeezing. “Answer me. Did you come here for more of my delicious cock?” Thrusting, he ground his steel-hard erection against me.

My pussy clenched in a helpless response. “No—I mean, not at first.”

It was too hard to look at him. I tried to face away, but he cupped my jaw, forcing me back. “Then why come all the way here?” he asked.

My palm brushed my stomach. “To talk about... what we did.”

His nostrils flared, eyes shining. “We can talk, and we can fuck. Best of both worlds.”

“Wait, we can't!” I lifted my hands; he grabbed my wrists, kissing the sensitive skin on the inner part.

“I want to do it again.” Nuzzling my cheek, he reached down, popping my coat open. “Cumming inside of you was addictive. I need more of that, I want to feel you writhing around, itching for that piece of me.”

I couldn't see past the corner of his tempting mouth. The room spun, Abell tossing me against his bed. The white walls around me were too familiar.

“Abell, listen.” I sat up on my elbows, my heart reverberating as he approached. “What we did at the bridal shop was too risky. There's a chance I'm pregnant, a chance I'm not. We can't be so reckless again, not until...”

Not until I know you're really staying by my side.

He threw his hoodie to the floor, tearing his shirt over his head. “You really think that there's a chance I didn't knock you up?” His running pants hung low, his hipbones commanding my attention. The dragon tattoo stamped over his stomach writhed like it was alive.

Words, how do I make words. “Yeah,” I said. “A chance.”

“Then we'd better fix that.” His deft fingers were already untying the strings around his middle. It took me a minute to grasp his meaning. His pants fell away, leaving him standing there in his tight, form-fitting briefs. He might as well have been naked.

Abell winked at me; his hard-on flexed under the fabric.

I should have walked away.

I should have demanded we talk.

Stepping forward, I gripped his prick and squeezed. Abell bared his teeth, grunting in his throat. “You really want to do this?” I asked, tracing him top to bottom. “We don't need to do it bareback. Actually, I could even...” Before I knew it, I was on my knees.

His fingers wrapped along my scalp like a vice. “I like where your mind is.” Gazing down at me, he inched his briefs down. The top of his cock was exposed.

Abell's natural musk created a suffocating fog in my brain. Tugging the elastic away, I let his dick free into the air. It tapped my nose, bobbing at full mast. Entranced, I just knelt there, fixated on the sight of it.

“I love this view,” he said above me.

Peeking up, I shook myself. Closing my fist around his base, I was struck by how small my hand looked. My thumb couldn't touch my forefinger.

Dragging my grip up his length, I felt him spasm. Holy shit, I thought to myself. If I angle it right, his cock is thick enough to block out my view of his face.

I didn't want to block his face, though. Abell was a dream to look at.

Wetting my lips, I circled the engorged tip. Carefully I slid down; I was choking in a mere second. Above me, Abell hissed with restraint. He loves this. That realization was empowering.

Sucking him, his shaft pulsed along my tongue. I sank further, working at fighting my gag reflex. Gingerly, I explored with my hands, cupping his balls; they flexed at my gentle touch.

The longer I lubed his cock up, the easier the blowjob became. The obscene sound of my lips and tongue suckling at him hung in the air.

He was delicious; better than any sweet I'd ever indulged in.

“Stop, wait,” he gasped. Pulling away quickly, he created a wet pop of suction. “I'd love to cum in your mouth. I would. But I don't want this to be wasted.”

Inching backwards on the bed, he stretched out. I was still kneeling, and from this view, he looked like a king. His cock was arching like a tower, his hand fisting the base, gliding over my slick saliva.

“Ride me,” he growled. “I want to look at the face of my future wife as she loses herself on my cock.”

Jumping to my feet, I scrambled to remove my clothes. He watched languidly, jerking his prick in a comfortable, calm fashion.

My weight settled on the mattress. Throwing one leg over his body, I straddled him. Our pieces lined up, so in sync we could have been made for each other.

Gingerly I pulled myself down on him. That initial penetration still made me gasp. I wasn't a size queen, but fuck, Abell pushed my limits.

Every fraction of movement made him sink deeper inside of me. That magnificent dick was stretching me, on and on until I was holding my breath before I reached the bottom.

Abell grabbed my hips, guiding me down the final inch. I inhaled violently, thrilling at the sensation of being so full. He nudged me, encouraging me to start moving. “You're almost too big,” I groaned.

“Once you start fucking me, you'll adjust,” he whispered.

But he was wrong. It didn't matter how much I ground on him, or how slippery my thighs felt. My pussy would start to relax, and his cock would just swell bigger. It was like he kept expanding, making sure I'd always feel that same head-swimming tension.

It was making me delirious; it was too good, too tight, too hot. I was boiling from my center out, sweat streaming just below my breasts.

“Dammit,” he said under his breath. I looked him in the eye, reading his lips because my brain was too busy being assaulted by pleasure to hear. “You're perfect. Beyond perfect.”

He tilted my body, forcing my swollen clit to rub against his firm pelvis. Thrusting onto his cock, I groaned, back arching to the max. My pussy was a mess, and the tattoos beneath me were covered in my juices.

There were flames of ink licking up his hips and belly. I was so wet, if they'd been real, I'd have put them out.

My insides fluttered, wild heat flowing into my cunt. As my clit twitched, the rest of me followed. “Oh, hell,” I breathed out. The mounting pressure grew, my pussy squeezing over and over like a pair of lungs that needed air.

Spikes of delirious pleasure hit me hard. When I finally came, I held my breath, my jaw locking as my eyes closed.

“There you go,” he said, his voice as thick as syrup. “Keep cumming, babe. Keep fucking going.”

He commanded me, and I listened.

Shaking, I slid my hands across his chest, seeking anything to hold me down. I felt so good, I worried I would float through the ceiling any second.

My pussy clenched, hugging his stiff shaft as it pistoned into me. He hadn't slowed down, he was riding through my orgasm. Abell was pushing me further, eager to see what I could take.

Once, I'd told him I liked a bit of pain. I'd just been boasting; I didn't mix pain and sex ever in my life.

He opened my mind, pounding into me with the core-shaking thrusts of a man who could do nothing but fuck. It was perpetual motion, both of us trapped until we burned out.

“I'm so close,” he groaned, slick with sweat. “This pussy is mine, do you hear me?” His palm came around, slapping my ass—I squealed. “Mine. No one else is ever going to have it.”

If I hadn't been so drained, I would have cum again. “Yes,” I drawled. “It's yours. I'm... I'm yours.” What was I saying? I was too far gone to consider any of it.

Abell trembled down to his toes, I felt it in his skin. He bent his spine, his balls contracting against my ass cheeks. “There, there it is, I'm...!” He didn't need to finish his sentence. Warm, fast explosions of liquid flooded into me. His cock jerked to the beat of his rapid heart.

Dizzy, I swayed on top of him. His fingers dug into my thighs, keeping me still, stuffing me with his seed—making me his. Even when he was empty, he kept rolling his hips, that cock still hard. The raw, animal part of me loved that.

Inhaling, he curled his arms around me, bringing me to him. I went eagerly, kissing him even as my vision went blurry.

I had nothing left in me. I was spent.

Abell had conquered my body and mind in a way no one could have. Hell, no one could even come close to. He'd ruined me for anyone else. And I knew it. I fucking knew it.

Without knowing when, I drifted off into darkness

****

Blue tulips filled my dreams. As I sat among them, they tickled my ankles, my eyelids. It was real serenity, a constant, peaceful thumping sound in my ears.

But for some reason, instead of floral, the air smelled like...

Maple and pine.

My lashes fluttered. Around me, plain white walls stretched to the ceiling. Next to me, his heat and heart pulsing away, was Abell. He was naked on top of the blankets, peacefulness making his features gentle.

This was deja vu.

Abell mumbled, shifting beside me. As if woken by my stare, his eyes opened. The room had darkened, his blue centers like sapphires at the bottom of the sea.

Wait. Where had the sun gone? “Did we fall asleep?” I asked, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Around six.” He pointed at his bedside clock. “Guess we both needed the rest after... well.” Chuckling at how I squirmed, he slid off of the blankets and grabbed his jeans. “Come on. I'll give you a ride home.”

Together we descended the stairs, shuffling into his Ferrari in the garage. He had been right, it was after six and already the sun had set. Buildings glowed around us, the ever present color of the holidays.

We were both quiet, reflecting on what we had done.

Glancing at him, I said, “We never got to talk.”

“We did plenty of talking.”

“No,” I said, fidgeting. “About... us. What we're doing.”

We rolled under an overhang. As we did, Abell was bathed in pure midnight and rich ink, escaping every fragment of light. “We're getting married. I'm making you my wife. What else is there?”

Love.

I didn't have the guts to say it.

Abell pulled up beside my apartment. He didn't cut the engine; I knew he wasn't coming inside. His hands were glued to the wheel, as if he could never let go.

“Well,” I started to say, reaching for my door handle. “I guess I'll see you.”

In such a small space, so close to him, I sensed his energy shift. Abell twisted, reaching out for me so fast that I was stunned. My head hit the window—not painfully, but enough to make a sound.

Abell's kiss was feverish, born from an ache I understood, but wasn't ready to believe in.

Then it was over; he leaned back, breathing heavily. His eyes darted from mine, to my lips, then out the window. “I... have a good night, Nix. See you around.”

See you around? The guy was forcing himself to be disconnected. “Yeah. See you.” Stepping out of the car, I perched in the middle of the sidewalk and looked around. No wind blew, the air was stale and calm.

The city had an empty, quiet feeling to it. Less like the end of the world, and more like I was living in a cocoon.

Did that make me the caterpillar?

And if so...

When this was over with, what would I emerge as?