The Alpha's Baby (4 page)

"Oh, you'll please me, all right." He settled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her opening.

Groaning, she arched her back.

"Mmm." He laid a kiss on her jaw. "Somebody's excited."

Excited? If he wasn't inside her in the next five seconds, she was going to throw him down and stick his cock in her herself.

"Hurry." She buried her fingernails into his shoulders.

He ran the tip of his cock along her clit, teasing her endlessly. "Are you on anything?"

In her drunken state, all she could think was,
Of course I'm on something. I'm on the bed.

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

His roguish grin widened as he steered the head of his cock so it brushed her hole. "Then tell me what you want."

"What?"

"Tell me that you want my cock inside of you." He rested his tip against her entrance, not pushing his way inside but instead teasing her endlessly.

If she hadn't been so damn desperate, she would have hesitated.

"I want your cock inside me."
Now just put it in already.

Sebastian nuzzled her lips. "As you wish."

In one swift thrust, Sebastian speared her body, filling up her insides with his massive cock. Her body was stretched to the max, yet all she felt was unending pleasure. As his cock darted inside of her repeatedly, he captured her mouth with his. A moment later he pulled back and cupped her ass, driving her crazy as he caressed her.

"God, your body is amazing," Sebastian groaned, his voice quavering with each thrust. "It was made for me.
You
were made for me."

She couldn't think well enough to answer. All she knew was heat and friction as his balls slapped against her rear end. She arched her back and spread her legs, yearning for more.

"Tell me what you want," he gasped, moving his hands to her hips.

"More," she said.

"More what?" he asked.

"I want your cock in me more." She buried her fingernails into his shoulder blades.

The man groaned in response to her words and bent over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress. The pressure of his sweaty, sticky body against hers made cries burst from her lips. But she didn't care if his neighbors heard. Hell, she didn't care if the whole damn world heard. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was his engorged rod spearing her soaked pussy, driving her to the breaking point.

She sank her claws into him, desperate. Her sex was throbbing and pulsing, announcing her fast-approaching orgasm. Sounds she'd never made before, not even during the passions of sex, burst from her lips.

Oh God.

She had an orgasm so powerful that she screamed. All she knew was pleasure. Even her brain went blissfully blank as she came. Distantly, she could make out Sebastian murmuring encouraging words to her, but she was too far gone to hear them. At that moment, she was in Pleasure Land, realms away from Earth and all of its inhabitants.

Just as she finally came back to reality, Sebastian tensed. The man erupted within her, filling her up with more than just his cock. She, thinking of nothing else but pleasure, accepted all of his seed. He groaned on top of her, and then he fell to the bed at her side, shaking from the fierceness of his orgasm.

She stared at the ceiling, pretty sure that she'd just had the most world-shattering experience of her life. Finally, after some time went by, Sebastian wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'm so glad we decided to do this." He kissed her shoulder.

"Me too." She smiled and shut her eyes.

Sometime later, she drifted off to sleep.

****

Early the next morning, Emmy sat up and stared down at Sebastian. The effects of alcohol had worn off, leaving her with nothing but a migraine and a man she hardly knew. She wanted to die. No, what she really wanted was to go back in time and let that stupid BMW squish her. Sebastian was hot to be sure, but she didn't know him. And she never slept with men she didn't know.

Sebastian let out a loud snore, and she cringed. Okay, well apparently not
never
.

"Why did I do it?" she whispered in self-disgust.

And at that moment, she thought of something horrible…Well, something more horrible than what she was already thinking about. She remembered what Sebastian had said seconds before he ravished her:
"Are you on anything?"

And she, thanks to her wine-induced stupidity, had nodded, thinking he was asking her if she was lying
on
the bed. The bed, for God's sake! What kind of idiot thought things like that? She'd had unprotected sex with a stranger. It was possibly the stupidest, most reckless thing she'd ever done. He could have HIV or crabs. She was too young to die from AIDS. On top of that, she worked at a bakery. She couldn't spend all day scratching her girlie bits because there were bizarre creatures crawling around in her underpants.

No, she couldn't let herself get carried away. She took a deep, steadying breath. This was the first time she made a mistake like this. Chances weren't high that she had an STD. She doubted that she was pregnant either. After all, she would have to be really unlucky for that to happen. As in, get-struck-down-by-a-random-falling-meteor kind of unlucky. Still, just in case, she made a few creative promises to God, then grimaced as she looked down at the man in the bed beside her.

Auburn hair draped on his forehead. A light beard covered his skin. His eyes were shut, making him look innocent even though he was anything but. It didn't seem fair that he was that gorgeous first thing in the morning. She swallowed, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now. As a person who didn't do one-night stands, she had zero experience when it came to this.

Should she wait? Should she go home? She tried to picture herself waiting for him to get up. Probably they'd have a good few minutes of awkward silence before she drove herself back to her place. Worse yet, he might try to do the gentlemanly thing and make her breakfast. On the other hand, if she went home, she could clean up, go to work, and pretend that this had never happened. Yeah, that sounded like the best plan. After all, she knew that there was nothing more annoying than a woman who overstayed her welcome.

She hurriedly put on her clothes and left the apartment, planning to leave this entire mess behind her.

Six weeks later…

"No, no, no, no," Emmy said as she stared down at the positive sign on the pregnancy test.

The test had to be wrong. It just had to be. The three tests she'd taken before had to be wrong, too. What was with this company, making loads of defective merchandise? She couldn't be pregnant. She had a bakery to run, an obese cat to feed, cupcakes to bake. For a moment, she wished that she could just pretend that what she was seeing wasn't real.

But she knew she couldn't deny it any longer.

"Why?" Emmy slammed her fist against the wall of her apartment bathroom.

Her only answer was a meow as Pickles waddled into the room. The cat was a calico whose belly rubbed against the floor when he walked. While she stared down at the cat, dumbfounded about the news, he rubbed his chubby body against her leg. She wasn't sure why, but that was what made her burst into tears.

It wasn't that she didn't like children. It was just that she didn't have much experience with them. She'd been an only child growing up, and she was probably one of the few people on the planet who didn't have any cousins. And she had a temper too. She couldn't even put on nail polish without cussing up a storm. How could she possibly be a good mom?

Suddenly, she had the urge to puke. As vomit crawled up her throat, she bent over the toilet and gagged into the porcelain bowl. At this point she wasn't sure what was the cause of her nausea—pure terror or pregnancy. She curled up on the tile, trembling, and the cat stared back at her.

Pickles.

The day she'd found the cat on the street, he'd been an underweight, abused creature. The vet had said he'd be lucky if he survived. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she'd stayed up day and night coaxing that damn animal to eat. His weight went up, and five years later, they were still together. Maybe comparing raising a baby to aiding an abused kitten was bad, but if she could stay up all night for an animal, why couldn't she stay up all night for her baby?

Her baby. She wrapped a hand around her stomach.

Oh God, I'm keeping it, aren't I?

Even as she laid curled up on the floor in sheer terror, she realized that she wouldn't give up her baby. Some people had to agonize for days or weeks over such a difficult dilemma, but she'd always been the kind of person who had no trouble making snap decisions.

Even stupid ones like sleeping with strangers.

And speaking of sleeping with strangers, what the hell was she supposed to do about Sebastian? She hadn't spoken with the man since they'd had their fling. Still, she believed that Sebastian had the right to know that she was pregnant with his child.

Unfortunately, when she thought of marching up to his front door and telling him, she was more than ready to change her opinion.
No, that isn't right,
she thought. Even if she'd only had a one-night stand with Sebastian, every man had the right to know that he was going to become a father. Sure, she doubted that he'd want anything to do with her after she told him—she'd be lucky if he didn't leap out his window and run to Mexico—but he had to know.

God, that was going to be the most awful conversation of her life…No, wait, she had to tell her parents too. Her dad was a deacon of a Catholic church. When he found out about what she'd done, he was going to incinerate her, find a way to bring her back to life, then incinerate her again. A wave of nausea came crashing over her. She was certain she was going to get sick again, but this time, she knew it was because of her thoughts.

After all, even at twenty-eight, her parents still frightened the hell out of her. And telling Sebastian about the mess she'd caused was on her top ten list of “Things I Never Want to Do” right alongside kissing an electric eel and having an intimate dinner with a homicidal rapist. She sat up, finally managing to stop the flow of tears, and took deep, cleansing breaths.

I can do this,
she thought as she pressed her hand against her stomach.

She pictured holding a newborn baby in her arms. Babies were warm and soft and smelled so sweet. Even though she wanted to lock herself inside of a closet and pretend that this had never happened, thoughts of the baby were what strengthened her. She was an adult. This may not have been what she wanted, but she'd made a mistake and, for better or for worse, she had to handle the consequences.

Emmy sucked in air and teetered to her feet. As she clenched her jaw in determination, she realized that her life was never going to be the same.

****

Emmy sat in Mary Lou's apartment drinking a cup of chamomile tea. Her eighty-five-year-old neighbor was leaning against the table in a black spandex dress that even Emmy wouldn't have had the nerve to wear. Sometimes when Emmy looked at Mary Lou, she saw a young girl trapped inside of an old person's body. But not right now. Nope, right now she saw Mary Lou as an old woman—and that was a problem when that old woman happened to be wearing a dress eight sizes too small.

"Are you sure the sales clerk said that dress was your size?" Emmy tried hard not to notice that the older woman's wrinkled breasts looked like two shriveled peaches, even with the help of a pushup bra.

"She didn't say it
wasn't
my size." Mary Lou ran a hand down her thigh.

Emmy cringed. "I see."

"I think the dress looks pretty hot," Mary Lou said. "When I wore it to bingo last week, Filbert saw me and had a heart attack."

Emmy raised an eyebrow. "You said Filbert had a heart attack because his wife told him that she wanted a divorce."

"Well, that too," Mary Lou said. "But I bet it was mostly because of this dress."

She didn't say anything, but Mary Lou noticed her incredulous expression.

"You're just jealous that you don't have a dress like this." Mary Lou crossed her arms, making her shriveled mocha peaches rise disturbingly high.

"I don't think I'll be wearing a dress like that in a long, long time," she said.

At that moment, the melancholy came rushing back. She remembered why she'd come over, and it wasn't to debate whether Filbert had had a heart attack because he'd gotten an eyeful of Mary Lou's dress.

"Why not?" Mary Lou eyeballed her. "Your skinny white ass could fit into anything."

She stared at Mary Lou, knowing it was time to tell her only human friend about her problem. In her head, she imagined informing the woman in the most dignified and graceful way possible.

Unfortunately, instead of doing it that way, she blurted out, "My skinny white ass also happens to be pregnant."

Shit. Well, she'd never been dignified or graceful anyway. Besides, the cat was out of the bag. Sure, it happened to have rabies and was clawing everything in sight, but it was out regardless.

"Are you playing with me right now?" Mary Lou studied her. "You know, like that time when you said that you were going to take away my key to your apartment, even though you didn't?"

Emmy groaned. "I wish I was playing with you."

"How did this happen?" Mary Lou stared at her, flabbergasted.

She said drily, "Well, when a man likes a woman very much, sometimes he'll—"

"Not that, you ninny. I know enough about sex to write a textbook." Mary Lou waved away her words. "What I mean is, how the hell did this happen to
you
? Your legs couldn't be more firmly closed if somebody duct taped them together and then sealed the remaining cracks with concrete."

Was she that much of a prude? "Thanks…"

"You know what I mean," Mary Lou said. "Who's the father?"

She hung her head in shame. "You remember that guy who saved me from having my head smashed by the BMW?"