Baller's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

Chapter
Sixteen

Skila

Someone
is knocking on my front door. I cover my head with my pillow and try to shut
out the incessant banging. Go the fuck away.
Tap, tap, tap.
I swear on all that’s holy that if someone isn’t
dying, they're about to be. I've got two more hours that I can sleep before
I've got to get up and get ready for my walk of shame into the office. I wasn’t
going to go in at all today, but I didn’t see any point in delaying the
inevitable any longer. I plan to march in Ames’s office and let him know the
article was a bust. I'm already prepared for his disappointed look and the sad
news that he can’t keep me.

Snatching
the door open, I don’t know who I’m expecting, but it isn’t Kiptyn, standing
there with a Venti Starbucks held out in front of him like he’s scared for his
life before I've had my first sip. I take it from his hand, greedy for the hot
ecstasy. He chuckles low, and all the parts of my body that the caffeine has
missed awaken instantly. I look over the top of the cup at him. He looks like hell.
His hair is a mess, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s still in the jeans from last
night.

Dark
circles line his eyes. I wonder what he’d been out doing all night. It’s
obvious he hasn’t slept all night. I remember the state I left him in last
night, with his cock as hard as a rock, poised and ready to take me. White-hot
rage fills me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly what he
did last night. Who? Now that is the question. No doubt, any one of the
hundreds of women in LA that would be more than happy to finish what I’d
started. Stepping back into the warm confines of my apartment, I slam the door
right in his face.

I'll be
damned if he leaps straight from some other bitch’s bed and comes knocking on
my door. Hell no. I don’t care if he did bring me Starbucks.

“Skila,
open the door.”

Shit,
why didn’t he take a hint and leave? I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want
to look at the evidence of where he went when I left. It’s so very obvious, and
I feel that knife twist deep in my heart.

“Fuck,
Sky, let me in. I haven’t slept a wink.”

I snatch
the door back open, ready to lay into him, but the pitiful sight in front of me
stops me in my tracks. I swallow my words, snapping my jaw shut tight, and look
at the man standing in front of me. The man I’m so desperately in love with. He
doesn’t look like a man who had a good night last night. He looks like shit.
Well, as shitty as Kiptyn Price can look.

“What do
you want, Kip?” I ask, hope building in my chest. Please let him want me.
Please don’t let this be some cosmic joke at my expense.

“The
interview?” he asks, and I can't help but laugh. Dry, humorless, the same laugh
he gave me two days ago when I asked the same question. I thought it was funny
then, but I don’t now.

“Yeah,
the interview. Are you still willing to do it?” I ask.

“Of
course. We shook on it. Remember?”

That
damn hand shake. How could I forget? Well, if nothing else good comes out of
this, at least I'll be able to keep my job. Not what I was hoping for when I
asked him, but he wants to do it, and it’s still better than nothing.

“Come
in.”

I turn
and walk to my room and grab a small recorder, pen and paper. I had already
made a list of questions I wanted to ask him, and I grab that too. I’ll just
run down the list as quickly as possible and then see him on his way. I can't
bear to spend any more time with him than that. My heart can't take it.

Already,
I’m fighting every single instinct inside of me that wants to reach out and
wrap my arms around him. I want to ask how he’s feeling. I want to tell him how
sorry I am for his loss and kiss away the pain that I know simmers just below
the surface, but I can't.

When I
open my bedroom door to walk out, he’s standing right there. His sad eyes are
cast down, but when I step out, he looks up. I see a thought cross his mind,
and his head shakes slightly before he gives in and pulls me against his chest.
Every muscle in my body relaxes in his embrace. This is where I want to be, in
his arms forever, but it's not possible. I tense, and the defeated sigh that
escapes his lips kills a little more of me.

 
“Just a second, please, Sky. Let me hold you
for just a second, baby.”

I can't
deny the torment I feel reflected in his voice. Leaning my head against his
chest, I let him hold me. I tell myself I deserve this moment. It's probably
the last time I'll ever be held by him, and I plan to soak in every single
second of this. It doesn’t last long, and then he leads me over to the couch,
where we sit next to each other.

I’m
trying my best to not burst into tears as I run down the list of questions.
Thank God I had the foresight to record the conversation. Otherwise, I'd never
be able to remember his answers and my notes wouldn’t be any help. Chicken
scratch looks better than this shit. I’m struggling to think of more questions,
anything to keep him here for just a few more minutes. I’m not stupid. I know
the minute we are finished, he’ll walk through the door and out of my life
forever.

“Are you
thirsty?” I ask, standing and walking into the kitchen. He follows closely
behind me. My handbag is sitting on the counter next to my heels from last
night. I wonder for a minute how they got there, but then I remember. I must
have left them in his car, and he brought them up when he came this morning.

“Sure.
Water is fine.”

I grab
two bottles from the fridge and pass one to him. He takes it from me, running
his fingers along my hand as he does. Chills travel up my arm, making me
shiver. I don’t pull away. He sets his water on the counter next to my purse
and tugs on my hand. I go willingly, my heart leading the way. He’s half-sitting,
half-leaning on the barstool, legs spread wide. Never letting go of my right
hand, he uses his other to softly run his fingers down the side of my face.

My eyes
close and I stand there, unable to move, to breathe. Warm, soft lips touch mine,
tentatively at first. I sigh at the pure pleasure his mouth against mine
releases in me. He increases the pressure, and I part my lips, giving him open
access. He releases my hand and lets it travel around to the back of his neck.
I tug gently on the hair at the base of his neck, and he growls low in his
throat. I’ve never heard anything so sexy in all my life.

Our
kisses become heated, and in a matter of seconds, I’m tugging his shirt over
his head and tossing it on the floor by my feet. He lifts me effortlessly and
carries me straight to my bedroom. I don’t care that this is the worst thing I
could be doing right now. The logical part of my mind knows he’s just hurting
and needs an out for the pain, but the part of me that feels instead of thinks
says,
Who fucking cares?

He wants
me.

Me.

I wrap
my legs around his waist and pull him down on top of me. I refuse to let him go
this time.

Chapter
Seventeen

Kiptyn
          

This is
not what I came here for. Fuck. Not that I'm complaining one single fucking
bit. Not one day has gone by that I haven’t dreamed of being buried deep inside
of her, but is it the right thing to do? She doesn’t even know . . .

All
thought stops when she pushes me off her. She stands and shoves me down on her
bed. I roll over, looking up at this beautiful fucking woman above me. Her tank
top falls to the floor, quickly followed by the short booty shorts she slept in
last night. I lie there unable to move, struck completely immobile by the most
magnificent sight I've ever set eyes on.

My eyes
wander to her stomach, and for a second, I think I can see a tiny bump there.
Not enough to be noticeable unless, of course, you’re looking. It’s perfect,
just like every other inch of her body. I try to sit up, but she shoves me back
again.

Feisty.
I like that.

Her
hands grip my jeans and she pulls, taking my boxer briefs down with them.
Leaving my jeans on the floor, she crawls her way back up my legs. She kisses
up my thigh, trailing her soft, full lips across my skin, all the way up to my
hip bones and across my stomach . . . then lower.

Lower.

Lower.

I can’t
decide if I need to hold my breath or let it barrel rapidly out of my lungs. She
sits back on her heels and gazes down at me. I wish I could read her mind. I’d
pay anything to know what she’s thinking right now. Her hand replaces her lips,
running along my chest, my abs. My breath catches when her hand reaches the
short stubble of hair on my groin.

She
reaches out and gently, almost reverently, runs her finger down the backside of
my cock. It jumps the moment her cool skin touches it, and she laughs, low and
sexy. Wrapping her hand around me, she pulls, stroking up and down.

My eyes
slam shut as a tense groan of painful pleasure escapes me. She slows her
rhythmic pumping just before I feel her breath puffing out against me. Her
tongue slips out between her sexy lips and circles the head of my dick. I force
my eyes open to see if this is real. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

She
glances up at me from under her lashes, watching my expression. She licks the
head, leaving a trail of spit on it. My cock jumps again before she slides her
mouth down, sucking me into her warm mouth. I feel her tongue still circling my
dick inside her mouth, popping against the head of it each time she raises
before lowering herself back down again.

Her hand
wraps around me, stroking along in tune with her mouth. I feel my orgasm
building in the base of my cock. My hands grip the sheets tightly. Sweat beads
on my brow.

Her ass
is poking up in the air, wiggling a bit. I watch for a minute, imagining
pounding into her hard and fast from behind. She moans, taking more of me.
There’s no way she can swallow all of it. No one ever has. It doesn’t stop her
from trying, though. I can feel the back of her throat when she drops down, and
I can’t take another second. I feel the orgasm start deep inside of me, racing
through my veins.

My cock
hardens even more.

I try to
pull her off, not wanting to fill her mouth with my seed, but she keeps going, sucking
harder and stroking me faster and faster, her tongue licking the head over and
over.

The
first wave crashes over me. My cock pulses, my seed shooting out, coating the
back of her throat. She moans and swallows a mouthful before sucking more of me
down again. I pulse again and again, filling her mouth. My body shudders, and I
lie there stupefied. Never in my life have I had a blow job like that. I can't
move. My heart is pounding in my chest at an alarming rate.

She
licks the head one more time before kissing her way up my chest to my neck, my
cheek, and my lips. I capture her, flipping her over on the bed below me,
careful not to jostle the baby inside of her. My cock is already stirring,
ready to slide deep inside her silken folds.

 
“Mmm, so sweet,” I say, kissing along her neck
to the hollow spot at her shoulder.

“Make
love to me, Kiptyn.”

Sweeter
words have never been spoken. My lips never leave her when I slide into her,
inch by slow, agonizing inch. She stretches around me, her sweet juices coating
me, making it easier for me fit within her tight pussy. Her legs wrap around my
waist, crossing across my back, pulling me farther inside. I can't wait another
second.

 
I pull out until just the head is resting
right inside of her, and then, taking a breath, I slam into her—hard. She cries
out, not in pain, but in ecstasy. Pure fucking ecstasy. Her nails scrape my
back as I pull in and out, slamming into her over and over. I feel her getting
closer. She tightens around me, pulling me into her, demanding that I give her
all of me, like I have a fucking choice. She is my master, and I, her willing
servant.

“Yes.
Yes. Yes.” Her cries fill the room, and then she shatters around me, pulling me
over the edge with her.

“Oh,
fuck,” I grind out as my seed fills her, shooting into the deepest, darkest
crevices of her womb. I fall over on top of her, spent.

I don't
know how long I lay there on top of her, with her hands drawing lazy circles
across my back, before I move. I shouldn't have let this happen. I know better.
I’m the worst kind of shit to come in here and take advantage of her while
keeping something like this from her.

Shame
consumes me. I hate myself at this moment, and the person I've become. Was
getting my dick wet really that important?

Now that
I lie here completely satisfied, I can answer with a clear mind. No, it wasn't
that important. I wanted her, yeah, like I had never wanted another soul, but
it was more than that. I needed her. I needed to touch her, hold and kiss her,
and dammit, I wanted to make her feel something. I wanted her to feel something
for me, only me, before I tell her the truth, and risk losing her again.

I should have never
touched her phone. I should have left it alone in my car and brought it to her
today, and maybe things would have played out the same way and everything would
be fine, except I wouldn't know about the baby. I might not have ever known,
and she could have destroyed it, leaving me none the wiser. No, what I did was
wrong, and I knew I'd pay for violating her trust, but it was the only thing I
could do.