Romance: JADEN: An MMA Fighter Romance (Bad Boy Tattoo Romance) (New Adult Pregnancy Short Stories) (47 page)

   “What?” Kate asked, but then she was being hoisted over his shoulder and marched through the house and out the back door. His strong arms held her close so that she didn’t get jostled as he leapt through the wildflowers, and Kate was again amazed at his strength. He was far faster than she’d anticipated, too; he’d carried her so far in under a minute that that the house was shielded from view by most of the wood.

   She was dizzy when he set her down, but thankful to be standing on solid ground. She spun around and found him standing on a red blanket in a clearing, spreading his arms wide and smiling excitedly. Kate realized he was wearing a robe almost identical to the one she was wearing, but in perfect black. The blanket was being held down at its corners by smooth stones, and the clearing was quiet and peaceful.

   “Wow,” she said. “This is a nice distraction.” She could see the river through some, a shimmering aquamarine strip that sparkled enticingly.

   “I hope this is a better one.”

Kate turned and saw that Jason had dropped his robe and was standing completely nude in the morning sun. She gasped, feeling lust rip through her body at the sight of his lightly tanned skin stretching smoothly over his hard muscles, and stiff cock rising proudly from his nestle of black pubic hair.

“We can’t get interrupted here,” Jason said, holding one hand out to her. He gripped the base of cock with the other, stroking his shaft lightly as he beckoned to her. “Come here, lovely. Let me show you what being a mate means.”

Kate stepped forward, feeling a primal need wash over her thoughts. She untied the sash around her robe and let it fall to the ground. Jason’s eyes were incandescent with his desire, and his hand tightened around the thickness of his flesh as she stretched her arms around his neck and pulled him forward into a kiss.

A tingle of pleasure spread through her body, and both of his hands slipped around her waist to pull her against his erection. They danced along her curves, stroking the satin skin of her plump ass before squeezing the tender flesh and bringing a cry from her lips. Kate plunged her tongue into his mouth, coaxing his tongue until it entwined with hers. Jason moaned and lifted her body briefly, and then they were moving toward the ground.

“Jason,” Kate gasped as he knelt over her  naked body. “God, I need you!”

“Not as much as I need you,” he murmured, spreading her soft thighs with hands. He gripped his cock and pressed his bulbous head against the slick, hot flesh of her pussy, smiling as her hips surged forward greedily.

Jason rested his body on his elbows and slowly sank his shaft into her dripping wet pussy, plunging one of his hands into Kate’s soft mane of hair and gripping one of her supple breasts with the other. He thrusted against her fervently, grunting as her hot walls swallowed his long shaft. Kate closed her eyes against the delicious sensation, wrapping her thighs around his waist in a desperate attempt to bring him closer to her.

“God, you’re incredible!” Jason’s eyes were burning with passion, and his hips slammed into hers harder, his long cock pounding against the soft bundle of nerves deep in her pussy that stole away her focus and control. He pulled on her sensitive nipple, kissing the soft skin of her neck as he dragged his cock back and rushed forward again, burying himself deep into her wetness over and over. Kate felt the sweet stab of her orgasm starting to build, and she bucked against her lover’s powerful strokes, trying to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her.

“Jason,” Kate cried, digging her nails into the rippling muscle of his back. “I’m close!”

The weight of his body pressed against her swollen clit, so every thrust sent her dangerously closer to her edge. She could hear his body beating against hers, and she pulled his face close to hers for a kiss, overcome with the need to kiss him. His strokes increased in speed, and soon he was rocketing between her legs furiously, gripping her breast and immersing himself as deep between her legs as his body would allow. He filled her so completely that she thought, we were really were made to mate. His hips dug against her body with abandon, and he threw his gorgeous head back and screamed her name to the sky, sending a white-hot streak of ecstasy crashing through her body. Then her pussy clenched and tightened around his shaft, and she felt him exploding inside her walls at the same time; Jason buried his face in her neck and thrust his cock inside her slowly, moaning as his member twitched and emptied.

After Jason’s body stilled, he pulled away from her and slumped onto the soft blanket. His gasps were like music to her ears, Kate realized. Even as her loins throbbed in pleasure after being pummeled, he was the most enchanting thing in the world. She turned toward his naked form, letting her eyes lazily trail over the glorious expanse of his chiseled body. When his breathing steadied, he caught her gaze and smiled.

“What are you looking at?” he teased, reaching over to pull her curves against the firmness of his body.

“My husband,” Kate murmured as she kissed his chest. “Soon to be, I mean.”

Jason laughed and curled his arms around her, squeezing her until she was breathless again. They lay in each other’s arms until it was too cold to be outside without clothes, and then they walked back through the forest hand in hand, the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so natural holding someone’s hand and walking, or the last time she’d been this happy, period.

After another month, they were officially engaged, and a month after that, Heather came across the country to see Kate marry her cowboy. Jason stopped touring for a month to be with Kate, and she was surprised that he had taken off so much time. He kept saying that his instincts told him to take advantage of this time while he could, and even though Kate thought it meant more wild romps in the forest and by the riverbank, he surprised her further by taking her away on a trip of the coast. Kate had never seen such beautiful beaches, and she had trouble believing she wasn’t living in a fantasy word; they stayed in beautiful private inns half the time, and when they wanted to stay on the beach, he found private spots and caught delicious fish for their dinner himself---in his huge shaggy bear form. In their third week of blissful travel, Kate grew so motion sick on the train that they had to get off early in the town before. Jason was terrified, and he insisted he take her to a hospital to be examined. Kate saw a series of doctors who kept her away from her new husbands for hours while he paced in the waiting room.

After a final test and a reexamination, Kate asked for the doctor to bring Jason into his office. She was too stunned to move, and her eyes were filled with tears by the time the doctor returned.

“Katie!” Jason dropped to his knees in front of her, already panicking. The doctor hovered over both of them anxiously, not saying a word as the tableau before him played out. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Kate gasped shakily, and a tear finally slid down her cheek. “It makes sense now,” she said quietly, remembering the beautiful young woman standing next to the carriage, how her willowy frame had clearly been one of a woman without children. “It wasn’t me.”

“What?” Jason cradled her face in his huge hands, peering into her eyes desperately. “Katie, what are you talking about? What wasn’t you?”

She laughed and took his hands in hers, squeezing his palms gently. “It wasn’t my fault, it was Logan. He’s infertile. Not me.”

Jason’s deep green eyes were glazed over with confusion at first, then he gasped, and shock slowly took over. “You mean…” his eyes sparkled, and his mouth hung agape.

Kate nodded, her heart cracking open with joy as the realization caused a beautiful smile to break over Jason’s face. “I’m pregnant.”

THE END

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Copyright 2015 by Ruby Scott - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

by Ruby Scott

Jennifer looked nervously at her watch, unable to keep her brown eyes still as she waited for the taxi to start moving again. They’d been stopped in traffic for four minutes and counting, and they needed to get moving in the next two if they wanted to be early. Ten more minutes delay in their schedule, and they would certainly be late. Horns sounded around the car continuously, filling the air with a dissonant symphony of engines and electronic beeps. Anxiety curled in her stomach, and she took a deep breath; her chest swelled so that the buttons on her blue blouse threatened to pop, and she saw the driver’s gaze dart to the window of cleavage her bra offered before returning his eyes back to the road. Jen Parker was used to being gawked at---she was what some of the more tactless men who courted her called “a real woman”; wide hips, a large, round backside, and a generous helping of bosom to balance it out. She ignored the driver since his glances were harmless, but she wondered briefly if the cut of her blouse was too low for meeting her husband for the first time.

Fiancé, she reminded herself internally, but it was too late; her mind stumbled over the word husband and her heart was hammering in her ribcage. All week she’d been like this: cool as a cucumber one moment, drenched in adrenaline the next. For the last two months, Jen had allowed herself to be wooed by an— admittedly—breathtakingly handsome and wildly generous stranger, until she’d finally agreed to marry him and fly three thousand miles across the country to be his wife. No matter how many saccharine emails, thoughtful gifts and tasteful evening gowns he sent her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all someone’s idea of a sick joke. Maybe one of her old college classmates finally found their opportunity for revenge, or maybe this was part of some elaborate scheme for a prank show on television. Jen even considered the possibility that she was dreaming. After the plane ride, she thought she would be able to break free from the feeling of unreality, but she still hadn’t managed to shake it.

Finally, the car began to move through traffic, and it was like someone hit the play button on a paused video; the car jerked forward, resisting the motion before its engine propelled the taxi a few inches forward into space. After a moment, they were moving at a good clip, and Jen could see the freeway exit they were meant to take.

   “You okay?”

   Jen jumped as the driver’s low voice broke through her daze. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily before answering, trying to ground herself in the backseat of the car. “Fine, thank you.” She tried to smile and was sure that it was stiff and awkward; still, the driver turned his eyes forward again and nodded. Jen looked at herself in the slim rearview mirror, thankful her smooth tanned skin didn’t pale under pressure. She wanted to look as cool and collected as possible, especially since Oliver would apparently be her regular driver. Owen had said personal assistant in his emails, but Jen assumed that he wouldn’t be driving now if this were meant to be her car. She remembered their last phone conversation, which had been both far too short and entirely too nerve-wracking. Hearing Owen's honeyed, sonorous tones sent a violent shiver down her spine no matter how often she heard it; she thought it would be even worse in person.

   “Why do I need a driver?” she’s asked him.

   “You don’t need one,” Owen admitted. “But if you’re going to be running your own business, the less you have to think about, the better. I know that personally, I like using my commute for practical reasons, but you might want to use it just to relax. Sometimes you have less time than you think to breathe.”

   And with that worrisome pronouncement, Jen had considered the argument closed. She hated driving anyway, and the truth was, she actually loved feeling like she was being served; when her friends used to drive her to and from appointments before she had a car while living in Virginia, she would insist on sprawling in the back seat---much to their chagrin. But now, it just felt wrong; she didn’t know this man and hadn’t done anything for him to merit being given such splendor. She felt like a gold digger.

   “A gold digger?” Violet, her best friend, had snorted at her when she tried bringing it up. “Jennifer, you are marrying a man who is looking for a special kind of trophy wife. You are that special kind of trophy wife.”

   “I’m still a trophy wife!” Jen said, indignant.

   “Did you miss the word ‘special’?” Violet tugged on her crimson braid, feigning annoyance. “He stipulated that he wanted someone upwardly mobile and kind-hearted.” She smiled as she laid gentle stressed on the key words. “You’re the warmest, most determined person I know. You’re going to do good with the money and power. I know it.”

   Despite her friend’s assurance, Jen couldn’t calm her nerves. The closer they got to her new home, the more jittery she became; as they pulled onto a tree-lined lane with huge houses situated in yards more spacious than any she’d ever seen in California so far, her hands began to tremble. Calm down, she scolded herself internally; remember, he said he wouldn’t pressure you into anything you weren’t comfortable with. The driver pulled the car up a long brick driveway leading to a three-story manor painted a shocking powder pink hue. Many of the windows were trimmed in light purple, and the front door was a soft green, almost mint. The yard was covered with ostentatious topiary bushes and a large marble fountain at the foot of the driveway, complete with an enormous cupid spurting water from its bow. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but Jen could hear Chopin’s Etude no. 3 Opus 10 floating over the grounds and through the tinted windows of the town car.

   Oliver chuckled as his eyes flickered over Jen’s stunned expression. “ Mr. James likes his pastels,” he said by way of explanation. “And no one said that a rich man had to have good taste.”

   Jen laughed, startled by Oliver’s candor. He winked and shot her a disarming smile from the driver’s seat as he put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’ll grab your bags for you.”

   “I can get my bags,” Jen said quickly.

   Oliver flushed and suddenly looked apologetic. “I meant no offense, Miss,” he said as she pulled one of her trunks from the backseat of the car.

   What? She frowned, puzzled by his reaction for a moment; then her expression smoothed  out, and she gave him a genuine laugh for only the second time during their two hours of knowing each other. “I think you misunderstood me. All I’ve really brought with me is sewing equipment and some accessories; all of my other items were shipped on their own. I just…insist on never being separated from my kit.”

   Oliver’s pudgy face had returned to its normal shade, and his smile showed his relief. “Oh, phew! I was afraid I’d come off condescending.”

   “I know a jerk when I see one,” Jen said, arching one eyebrow playfully; she felt more relaxed now that she was out of traffic and facing Oliver, whose gaze didn’t seem to be roving now. “I think you might be trouble, but I don’t think you’re a jerk.”

   Oliver laughed appreciatively, holding his considerable gut as he chuckled; Jen realized at that moment that he hadn’t been completely comfortable with her, either. He wiped his eyes as he spoke again. “It’s been a long time since anybody thought I was going to be trouble.” Then he turned and walked up the short walkway with her toward the sprawling Edwardian-style manor, pausing briefly to let her get caught up.

   “So, you superstitious?” he asked conversationally.

   Jen was still staring at the house’s paint job with a mixture of uncertainty and awe, so she didn’t register that she’d been asked a question until nearly ten seconds had passed. He must be talking about my refusal to be separated from my sewing kit. “What? Oh! No, just sentimental.”

   Oliver nodded as though he understood perfectly. Jen had warmed to him enough to feel comfortable assuming that he did, instead of believing he was simply humoring her. It occurred to her that she was about as comfortable with Oliver in person after only two hours as she was over the phone and via webcam with Owen after two deceptively short months. It seemed to her that they had chemistry, and he really did seem taken with her—but would that persist when he finally saw what she was like? She’d resisted the pull of serious long-term relationships—and then marriage—for so long that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to cohabitate with another person, especially one that was so clearly interested in her despite his distinct lack of pressuring.  Unbidden, images of past lovers and their reasons for leaving sprang to mind.

There was Andrew, who was intimidated by her string of lucrative internships at apparel design studios all over the East coast. He left after claiming she made him want to do better— then later admitted that her wild success made him feel worse. There was Eric, who didn’t like how submissive she was in bed, and whose insistence on dominance made her so uncomfortable that they stopped having sex halfway into the relationship. Most painfully was Jacob, who didn’t like his odds at unseating the field  of clothing design as her brightest passion and sole life’s purpose—it was roughly zero, as long as he was unwilling to postpone a grand wedding and luxurious honeymoon while she pursued her time-exhaustive dreams. Jacob— with his short brown curls, deep green eyes, and swimmer’s body—had been especially hard to shake; his insatiable lust had made her feel consumed in a way she never thought she could enjoy, but he wanted to rule more than just her carnal desires. Jen shivered, remembering the earth-rending feeling during the weeks and months after she finally ended their two-year relationship; it scared her that he wanted her to belong him, in the most traditional sense, because she’d never wanted any of the fuss or frills a legal union often came with. Do you really expect Mr. Moneybags to be different? a voice in her head whispered suddenly.

   “Miss Parker?”

   Jen jumped, and she was startled to find that after Oliver pulled the door open for her, she’d paused with one foot in mid-air, hovering over the threshold. The door opened onto a gleaming hall with green and white tile that shone like polished pearls. She could smell the organic wax the staff must use to keep these floors pristine each day. Jen had never paid anyone to clean her house for her—but she’d also never been with anyone for money before. Was she really prepared to do this?

   “Is something wrong?”

   There’s no turning back. The pages have been turned. Hell, the whole book’s closed, and this is a brand  new one.

   She put her foot down and hurried into the hall. “Uh…sorry, no. Just had a little moment.”

   Oliver smiled, and it was kind and understanding. “I understand. You’ll be having a lot of those.”

   He turned and strolled down the hall before Jen could ask what he meant; surely he just meant that it would take some time for her to adjust to the house, but his tone somehow implied something more. He took her around the corner, down a hall with identical tiling and spotless cream walls. The second hall opened into a handsome study, almost out of a magazine for wealthy lawyers or tenured university professors, with a lush green carpeting, supple leather armchairs, two huge desks, and four walls lined from floor to vaulted ceiling with books.

   “Mister James asked me to request you wait here,” Oliver explained in response to her puzzled look.

   “He doesn’t want me to get settled?”

   Oliver smiled. “He does, but he needs to speak with your first. And…” he looked over his shoulder, his face suddenly tense and guarded. “I have to warn you. It’s going to be a lot to discuss, but he’s told me lots about you, and I really think you should consider what he says before you make any rash decisions. “

   Jen felt her heartbeat speed up, and she narrowed her eyes at the man. “What? What are you talking about?”

   But he was already walking away. “I expect I’ll see you soon, Miss Parker.” He hesitated for a split second before continuing down the hall, closing the door of the enormous study behind him and leaving her alone in the luxurious, unfamiliar room.

   The music was still issuing quietly from somewhere around her—it sounded like it was coming from every direction, in fact, but that couldn’t be correct. Jen finally lifted her head to take a look at the ceiling and saw that there were speakers embedded in it, and in some of the tall bookcases.

   Fancy, she thought as she paced around the room, her heeled boots sinking into the thick green carpet as she eyed some of the titles. Old medical textbooks, texts on physics, the Egyptian Empires, math, and linguistics populated one shelf, and two whole walls seemed to be dedicated to fiction. Jen saw The Mote In God’s Eye and Stranger in a Strange Land alongside Speaker of the Dead and The Sirens of Titan.  Cloud Atlas, Vurt and Brave New World boasted multiple copies on one part of the shelf. He’d mentioned he was a reader, but she hadn’t expected to see so many of her favorites stocked. She pulled a book down from the shelf and walked over to one of the armchairs, folding her curvy legs beneath her as she opened to the first page. If he’s making me wait, I might as well get comfortable and entertain myself.

   As soon as Jen got a few pages in, a gentle vibrating motion distracted her from her reading. Her shoulder-length curls were vibrating as well, and she looked around in panic as she wondered if she was meant to die in California in a massive earthquake before her new life even begun. She contemplated diving under the heavy oak desk to her right, but the vibrating was so subtle that it was hardly detectable at all after a moment;  this isn’t an earthquake, she thought, confused. Jen looked around the room, noticing the fine treble of the ornate desk lamp emitting a bar of yellowish light. Was a large truck, passing, perhaps—or a fleet of them? Only one way to find out.