AN EVERLASTING PURSUIT

LIV BENNETT

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover image © Zoonar/ Thinkstock.

Also by Liv Bennett

AN ILLICIT PURSUIT (PURSUIT, #1)

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THE PURSUIT OF PASSION (PURSUIT, #2)

DELAYED DELIVERY (PURSUIT, #2.5)

PLEASURE EXTRAORDINAIRE (PURSUIT, #4) Feb 2014

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Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. —I shall feel it.

- Victor Hugo

Prologue – VALERIE: When I see you again…

The sun is going down, signaling another day ending with me still stuck in this psychiatric

ward, while that cunt Taylor is having the time of her life with my millions.

It’s the same routine every day. Warren, a forty-year-old, bald and obese nurse assistant gives

me and my roommate our meds, checks our mouths to make sure we swallowed them, and winks at us,

before shutting the heavy iron door behind him.

Today, though, he’s taking extra time on me, not only checking my mouth but groping my

boobs, too. I have to take deep breaths through my nose to keep the boiling anger in check, or I’ll not

only yank his hand away but bite him in the appropriate place, too. That, however, will only give him

all the more reasons to overpower and over-drug me.

Matilda, my roommate—a fragile girl in her early twenties—keeps her eyes firmly shut and

slips under her blanket until her entire body is covered. She’s changed in the last two weeks. She’d

never been quite all right to begin with; she talked to herself a lot, moved her left arm up and down

nonstop for an hour straight, and jumped at every little sound around her. But, she was never

aggressive towards others, neither physically nor verbally, and I caught her smiling at me more than a

handful of times during our five-month stay in the same room.

Once she took her night medications, she’d sleep like a stone without moving a limb. Not the

last two weeks, though. Since Saturday two weeks ago, she started speaking through her nightmares,

despite the heavy meds, and each time I hear Warren’s name mixed with no’s rolling through her

blistered lips. She stopped eating and interacting with others altogether. She doesn’t even leave her

bed, except for using the bathroom. I’m sure it was Warren who did something to her that night. I’ve

been exposed to some horrible things in my life, but seeing Matilda that Saturday night, crying

hopelessly like a mortified child, her white, cotton dress soaked in blood made my heart tear.

The doctor on the night shift claimed Matilda was only having her period. They may think

we’re crazy, but we’re not dumb enough to believe all that blood and the terror on Matilda’s face

were just consequences of a simple period. Warren was lucky that I’d just taken my meds, or I’d have

known how to chop his hands and every other part of his body that came close to Matilda.

I’m not psychotic in reality. I just faked it in order to escape prison. But if I stay here another

week, I’m sure to become another Matilda.

I promise myself to find a way to leave this hell and get my revenge on Taylor in the worst

possible way. However, before I leave, I’ll make sure Warren and his accomplice doctor pay for

what they did to Matilda, and probably many other patients, too.

Once I’m through with them, they’ll wish it was God who punished them and not me.

1 – TAYLOR: Craigslist

A beautiful woman is walking toward us, and I can tell she’s beautiful without looking at her,

because of Adam’s sudden withdrawal. His head is tilted down, his eyes on the sidewalk, and a

complete silence overtakes him as we walk arm in arm, our steps synced, until the said woman walks

past us.

Just before she disappears, I steal a glimpse at her to see what kind of woman turns my

husband into a detached mess. A tall, brunette beauty with a black mini dress. Her eyes sweep over

Adam, of course. I shiver at the thought of their eyes connecting and crashing with flame and lust. I’m

glad Adam right now cares more about the thick grass flattening under his feet than making any kind of

connection, even for a brief moment, with another woman.

My presence right beside him has nothing to do with his weird, yet calming attitude. I’ve

spied on him enough times—while waiting for him at restaurants, movie theaters, shops, grocery

stores, just to name a few—to know he always plays the absent, uncaring, and indifferent jerk around

other pretty women.

I never had the courage to ask him why. But, I sense he’s afraid of breaking his own promise

to himself to be faithful to me. God forbid a pretty girl may start with eye contact and wind up

seducing him into her bed; something along those lines must be his thoughts.

Funny thing is that he acts just the opposite to the women who aren’t so attractive. Well, at

least not attractive to him. He goes all buddy-buddy with the average-looking ladies in our

neighborhood, commenting on the cuteness of their kids or dogs, and leaves generous tips to the

waitresses with a body size ten or higher.

I squeeze his butt through his jeans and move my hand up to his waist, as we continue walking

leisurely toward our home. Miracle Mile is a beautiful and calm neighborhood, one of the few places

you can enjoy taking pleasant strolls right from home in the midst of overly busy Los Angeles.

Although I can easily picture myself as one of the content residents of the Miracle Mile for the rest of

my life, Adam has already started looking for homes large enough to host an entire army. I’m not even

sure I can give birth to one child; much less to the number Adam probably has in mind.

My infertility issues are still a sore spot between us, despite Adam’s supportive attitude. The

hormonal treatment my gynecologist recommended had had too many side effects on me, and I had to

stop it before we could see any signs of improvement.

“There’re always alternative medicines,” Adam says whenever the subject of my failure to

conceive comes up. I’m ready to try anything that won’t turn me into a zombie or a ball of agitated

nerves. But, I don’t want Adam having his hopes high each time I try a new therapy, only to have them

crushed with another failure.

After Adam’s weeks-long persistence, I started getting acupuncture to treat my hormonal

imbalance, though without any positive pregnancy test result, yet.

My cell buzzes in my handbag, and I slip my hand inside to pull it out, while the other one is

wrapped possessively around Adam’s waist.

“Who is it?” The jealous tone in Adam’s voice is unmistakable, and I admit it pleases me

more than it should.

“Bree,” I say and tab on the screen of my phone to read the message.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still at work. She needs to get a boyfriend before she turns to

an office rat.”

“Don’t be crude. She just needs time to adjust to her new duties as the HR manager. That’s

all.” I pinch his skin under his shirt, and he jerks away, out of my hold.

Smirking, I look down at my phone to read Bree’s message. To be honest, I can’t complain

about having a workaholic as an employee, even better, a clever one like Bree. It still amazes me how

she could complete her entire studies in Economics, while working fulltime. That’s why when

Valerie, my ex-HR manager and Jack’s crazed half-sister, showed her real face to me as she tried to

kill me, I didn’t think twice about offering the post to Bree.

Although her job description involves only HR duties, Bree doesn’t refrain from involving

herself in the ongoing projects; much to my delight and Adam’s annoyance. Adam doesn’t like to be

bossed around, and Bree seems to enjoy doing exactly that. More so thanks to her ever-increasing

knowledge of construction business and her elevated level in the company’s hierarchy.

The message Bree has sent me, though, has nothing to do with work. I read the subject header,

which says “I thought you might want to see this ad on Craigslist personals,” and click on the

message. She must be on the search for a boyfriend if she’s reading personals on Craigslist.

I stop in place when I glance at the picture attached to the message. A photo of Adam’s half

naked body covers the screen of my phone in all its glory. I scroll down, bringing the phone up close

to my face, and scan the text below the photo.

“The true miracle of the Miracle Mile,

Thanks to your awesome body, we, three lovely ladies from the same neighborhood, have

found a profound desire to jog daily to keep in shape. Just like you do. Every day between six

thirty to eight. We’ll be running after you regularly, and hopefully very soon, with you.

Looking forward to overindulging ourselves with your perfect little butt this evening (even

from afar).”

I can’t find the courage to look up and face Adam. Has he been running without a t-shirt

outside? Why in the nine hells haven’t I noticed it?

“Hey, you okay? You look like you swallowed a whole potato.” Adam sneaks a glance down

at my phone, but I yank my hand away before he can see anything. I don’t want him to know he has a

fan club.

“It’s nothing. Just a silly joke Bree found on the internet.” A silly joke, indeed.

What were those sluts thinking? Taking inappropriate pictures of a married man and posting it

all over the Internet? Shit! Adam might be loyal to me to some degree. But what if a beautiful woman,

as willing as those Craigslist sluts, crosses his way? Will he remain faithful to me? A man with his

libido, equivalent to that of a teenager, can easily fall for the wrong woman in the heat of desire.

Before I slip the phone back into my bag, I catch a glimpse of Adam’s hand in the picture. I

barely concentrate on Adam’s words when he says, “A joke? I want to hear it.”

I zoom in on the picture to make sure my eyes aren’t fooling me.

No way. No fucking way.

He’s not wearing his wedding band while running half-naked outside. Sluts be sluts, there’s

no denying that. But, Adam’s naked torso, without his wedding band on his finger, would turn even a

frigid nun into a bitch in heat.

“Hey! Earth to Taylor.”

“What,” I yell, my voice showing every bit of edginess I feel. “I said, ‘It’s a silly joke.’”

He steps away from me, holding his hands up, his eyebrows pulled together. “Okay, okay. I

didn’t say anything.”

Turning around, he begins walking toward our apartment building, and I can’t help but wonder

on which other occasions he doesn’t wear his wedding band.

2 – ADAM: Lie with Bree

“Come here.” I pat the space next to me on the bed. It’s been six days since the last time

Taylor and I had sex, because she had her period. Now that it’s over, I must have her or I don’t know

how else I’ll be able to get through a busy day of work. I’m already naked except for my boxer briefs.

Only, she’s fully clothed and ready to go to work. “And take those clothes off.”

“We don’t have much time. Work is waiting.” Taylor’s hand is playing with the buttons of the

blouse she’s just put on. “Why don’t you wait until this evening?”

“Because I want you now.” I push down my boxer briefs, kick them off, and start teasing my

cock to life. She beams at the sight of my manhood, but won’t give in. “Come here, or I’ll go over

there and make sure all the buttons of your pretty shirt hit the ground before I pin you against the

wall.”

Her lips curl up with a slight, devious smile, and I know she’s considering that option. “Every

time we arrive late to work, Bree gives me a strange look as if she knows why we’re late.”

My cock has already grown thick with desire and spurts pre-cum. If she insists on not having

sex, I’ll just shove it into her mouth and let her taste my desire for her. I force down the trembling the

thought of her full lips tight around my erection is giving me.

“If you come to me now, like a good girl, I’ll tell you a dirty secret about Bree.” I roll my

eyes when she begins unbuttoning her shirt. “I can’t believe a secret convinced you, but my cock

didn’t.”

“Let’s say it’s both. If I know a dirty secret about Bree, I won’t feel that guilty for arriving

late.” She shrugs off the shirt, pulls down her skirt, and places them neatly on the chair.

Standing on my knees on the bed, I unclip her bra, releasing her beautiful breasts from it, and

haul her under me. She kicks off her shoes as I take off her panties, but I let her keep the thigh highs.

“You have nowhere to go now.” I lean down to suck her lower lip, which earns me a moan

from deep in her throat. She wants it as badly as I do, yet she’ll still find reasons to postpone it.

She rubs her chest against mine, bringing her hard nipples to my attention. I move down and

mouth one breast and knead the other one with my hand. Her fingers are running through my hair,

squeezing and pulling almost to the level of pain. Which can only mean she’s ready without foreplay.

Although I’m in the mood for a quickie, I’ll take my time today, despite the busy work ahead of us.

My hand sneaks between us, stroking her belly and upper thighs before landing on her

sensitive flesh. “You’re cruel. Your pussy is soaking wet but you were denying it some good fun.”

With her eyes closed, she squirms and moans unintelligible words. Without lingering too long,

I slide two fingers inside and watch her body arch back.

What a view.

Nothing else can beat the pleasure of witnessing how she shatters into a thousand needy

pieces under me. I rub the sensitive knot inside her that I know so well and listen to her moans getting

louder. Just when the spasms start, I pull out my fingers and bury my cock inside with one hard stroke,

watching her eyes fly open and the air leave her body.

Pulling all the way out save for the tip of my cock, I slam into her once more. “Want to hear

Bree’s dirty secret now?”

She looks at me, confused, as if she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Later,” she

mumbles. She wants to give all her attention to my cock. How flattering. But, I have other plans.

“Yesterday, Bree came to my office when you left for your lunch appointment.” I inhale

deeply, since pumping into her and talking at the same time take all my breath away. “She was

wearing a skirt and no panties underneath.” Now she’s paying attention to my words because she’s

staring at me with wide, dilated eyes and eyebrows frowning. So, I continue, “‘How do I know?’

you’ll ask. Because she sat on my desk, spread her legs wide astride me to show me her unshaven

pussy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she yells.

“Keep listening, there’s more to come.” I dig in to quiet her with a long kiss, while keeping up

with my furious thrusts inside of her until I have her moaning again. Even angry, she can’t keep herself

from reacting to my cock with pleasure.

Then, I break our kiss to continue my story. Torture or not, I have to get it out. “I should have

left the office at that moment, but she’s been bugging me for a long time, touching me, shooting me

‘fuck me’ looks, and stroking her tits on my arms whenever she can. I’m only a man. I have my limits,

too.”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” She covers her ears with her hands, but I pull them away.

I’m an ass like that.

“So, I licked her pussy and ate her up until she climaxed on my tongue. Oh, man, she tastes so

good, like ripe cherries.” My cock feels like it’ll explode any second, but I can’t let it happen yet. Not

before I’m done talking. I slow down and plunge into her with long and slow strokes.

She punches my chest with some serious strength. I let her take her anger out, but her punches

only seem to make her angrier. Grabbing her wrists, I pin her arms above her head and lean down for

another kiss. This time, though, she rolls her head to the side to escape my lips. I keep her wrists safe

in one hand and use the other one to turn her face so I can kiss her. She fights to free her hands, her

face, but she’s weak like a little kitten in my hands. She’s so sweet when she’s pissed off and makes

me want to fuck her hard until she’s sore and hurting.

“She’s just as needy as you, but screams much louder. I’m sure people in the other offices

heard her. Then I fucked her senseless. Her screams got only louder. Her pussy is so tight, I came

with only a few thrusts.”

“Get off of me. You’re dirtying me,” she roars. She stops fighting, but the tears slide down her

temples. Even so, slight moans escape her throat in time with the strokes of my cock. I can feel her

pussy muscles tensing and building up toward an orgasm, so I increase my speed and plunge into her

with faster and harder thrusts.

“Don’t worry. I used condoms.”

“Condoms, plural?”

She has to ask that? “I couldn’t be content with fucking her just once. And yeah, I bought

condoms because I’d been meaning to fuck her for a while.”

“Fuck you. I hate you. I never want to see you again.” She cries. Her words are mixed with

sobs and her signature, cat-like moans. Yet, her inner muscles begin convulsing around my cock. Her

body is trembling under me, pushing me hard toward my own climax. But, I have to focus. She

deserves another orgasm. I keep my speed steady and ram into her with everything I’ve got. Her

contractions continue, which can only mean she’s reached a second orgasm before the first one

subsided. That’s my girl.

“You might hate me but your pussy loves every inch of my cock. I don’t think you can leave

me even for a day.” I ram two more hard strokes into her, before I fill her insides with my release.

Her sobs are loud and break my heart. I guess I’ve taken it a little too far. With my cock still

inside her, I free her arms and cup her face with both hands. “I was just messing with you. I haven’t

touched Bree or any other woman, for that matter. I just wanted to give you a little punishment for

denying me my morning fuck.”

Her eyes grow large as they examine my face, looking for a hint for truth. “You are—” I kiss

her before she can say anything else. I lick her lips, and they part easily to allow my tongue in. Her

tongue strokes mine gently.

She believes me.

She knows she’s the only one for me, and I can’t touch another woman. She owns me

completely; my heart, my thoughts, my body are hers to use and to take advantage of to her heart’s

content. Our bodies still connected, we stay for a moment, declaring our love and longing for each

other with sweet kisses.

She’s mine and I’m hers. Nothing can ever change that.

3 – The accomplice

I know what I’m about to do is wrong. Terribly wrong. But, I’m going to do it anyway,

because I owe Valerie more than my life. She’s not a monster like everyone loves to believe. She’s

caring, and responsible, and sticks with you no matter what. And, much braver than anyone else I’ve

ever met in my life.

My friendship with Valerie goes back to my early high school years. She’d been best friends

with my older sister first, but she had to repeat the tenth grade twice and ended up in my class. After

several overnight stays at our place, she found out about the dark secrets of my family.

Namely, my sister’s biological father.

My mother had fallen head over heels in love with him, when she was barely an adult.

However, her love was a short-lived one because of the alcohol and anger issues of the man. Soon

after my sister’s birth, my mother managed to flee him, moving from town to town for two years to

throw off scent, then settling in Northern California once she married my father.

Even after several years, she feared he’d find her and make her pay for vanishing suddenly. I

didn’t think he cared so much about my sister, but from what I heard from my mother, he’d been

obsessed with my mother, overly jealous and possessive. He loved her with a twisted mind.

My mother’s worries ended only after we’d heard in the news that he’d been imprisoned for

killing his landlord during a fight over his unpaid rent.

Everything changed in an unfaithful night, though.

I remember the details very clearly, as if it happened last night. School was canceled midday

due to heavy rain, and I invited Valerie over to our place until the rain calmed down. It didn’t, so she

stayed overnight. It struck me as odd that she didn’t call her mother to inform her about her

whereabouts. But, hey, who had the perfect family? Definitely not me.

My sister, Valerie, and I were in pjs, gossiping about the boys and putting makeup on each

other’s faces, when the front door was thrown open with a loud bang. I didn’t need an introduction to

know who the giant man with a murderous face and an axe in his hand was.

A mother-fucking axe.

When there were a hundred different types of weapons to use, he had to choose a freaking axe,

close to the size of a chair. He surely didn’t come for a friendly discussion.

Thunder cracked, as he stepped inside the house with his muddy boats, and we three shrieked

and screamed at the same time.

“Where is that cunt?” he roared like a wild beast, and I swear I felt my body forced back with

his words as if a typhoon were blowing against us.

My poor mother appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, with a pathetically small knife in her

hand. Even if she had a list of weapons, rather than that joke of a knife, she’d still have no chance

against that monster of a man. She motioned us to go into the kitchen, but the monster yelled at us not

to move an inch or else he’d throw the axe at us. I was ready to stay there, paralyzed, for the rest of

my life rather than have the axe splitting my head in two.

“I’m the one you want. Let the girls go,” my mother begged. The uselessness of the knife was

clear to her, too. I never knew if she kept a gun at home, and now didn’t seem like the right time to

ask.

He simply shook his head and kicked the door close with his foot, before walking toward us.

“Which one is mine?” he asked. I noticed my sister’s pajama bottoms soak immediately after

his question. Why did he want to know it? Was he going to kill his own daughter?

My mother cried “No.” Did she guess his intentions were nothing less than menace?

To all of our utter shock, Valerie took a step toward him, as if he wasn’t scarier than the

scariest monsters in horror movies.

“Father, is that you?” she whispered. It took me quite a while to understand what she was

doing, and I was sure my sister hadn’t even registered anything because of shock. I hadn’t seen

Valerie crying before, but I could tell without hesitation that she was crying, like for real. Tears

washed down her face as she rushed ahead and threw herself into the arms of the monster, all the

while screaming, “Father, father, you came back for me.”

To this date, I don’t know what exactly made her cry like that. I guess most likely the fear, but

I have a nagging feeling deep down that she wished her own father would come to her and claim her

the same way that monster showed up in our lives.

We watched Valerie cry and sob against the monster’s chest, spreading her small arms around

his waist, murmuring inarticulate words, while looking directly into his eyes. At that brief moment,

she earned my deepest respect. She, a skinny seventeen-year-old, barely reaching the monster’s

elbows, without any gun or weapon, could look directly into the devil’s eyes and lie. If there’s

anyone braver than that, then I’m ready to hand him, or her, my entire savings.

We were shocked, so was the monster. So much so that he dropped the axe in his hand and

hugged her back.

“Heidi,” he mumbled. “Look at you. You’ve grown so much.”

“Daddy. I love you so much. Why did you leave me? You didn’t even call.”

I feared he’d see through Valerie’s performance any second. Both my sister and her father

have brown eyes, but Valerie’s eyes are bright green.

What next, I remember thinking to myself, right before I saw Valerie’s foot lifting up in the air

and her knee landing in his crotch. You’d think that size of a man would hardly notice it, but he did

and even bent down in pain. Which earned him two major stomps on the feet.

Next thing I knew, the axe vanished from the floor and ended up slicing into his shoulder. I’m

glad I covered my eyes and mouth in terror at the exact moment Valerie embedded the axe into his

body; otherwise my scream would likely have distracted her. To finish him off, Valerie rushed to my

mother to grab the knife from her hand and stabbed it directly into his throat. Without a hint of

hesitation.

The scene was brutal and absolutely terror-inducing, but it’d have been much worse, if we’d

been butchered by the monster and not the other way around. For that reason exactly, for risking her

life for us without blinking an eye, I owe Valerie my life—to the extent that I’ll jump off a cliff if she

asks me to do so.

That’s why, when she asked my help to get back the inheritance she deserved, I didn’t think

twice about being her accomplice. Even if it meant I had to go against the law.

4 – ADAM: Jealousy rain

I unlock the door and close it silently in case Taylor might be napping. She wasn’t at home

when I arrived after work an hour ago, so I used the opportunity to go out jogging. She must have

arrived by now and is probably sprawled on our bed, sleeping or trying to sleep. Despite the morning

sex, I have a full load of sperm to coat her womb brewing in my testicles.

I kick off my shoes and head toward the living room, only to come to a sudden halt at the sight

of Taylor holding her phone and staring down at its screen with an expression that I know she saves

only for Jack. Her dead ex-husband. My best friend and nemesis.

Throughout our relationship, I caught Taylor gazing at his photo three fucking times. And each

time it felt like a gunshot to my chest. But this time, something seems off; the deep blush of her cheeks

and her hand squeezed between her thighs as if she’s masturbating, or has already done it.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I can handle her having an innocent affection for Jack, but masturbating while looking at his

pictures? Better to fuck me in the ass a dozen times than torture me like this. I move back on my toes

and go back to the door to open and close it to appear as if I’ve just arrived.

“Hello,” I call out.

Taylor shows up; her face turns from tired to murderous in a flash. Her eyes look at me as

though they’re shooting fireballs. “What the fuck? Have you been jogging outside like this?” Her

hands point toward my bare chest, up and down. “Half fucking naked?”

My eyes stare down at my chest, then move up to her face, which is now a strange hue of

green. I had no idea that she cared what I wore or didn’t wear when I exercised. “Is it a problem?”

“Yes, it is. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really into some whores eye-fucking you on

the street.” Her eyes wander down and land on my shorts. She closes the distance between us with

one jump, startling me with the suddenness of it, slips her thumbs into the seam of my shorts, and pulls

them down with yet another swift move. “You’re hard? What have you actually been doing? Jogging

or chasing after sluts?”

I had better take her anger seriously, or I might end up being eaten alive. “I swear I was just

jogging, nothing else. I got hard only now.”

Cautiously, I lift my arms and wrap them around her, despite the sweat dripping all around my

chest. After a moment of staying stiff, finally she gives in and hugs me back. I even manage to steal a

kiss from her lips.

What a turn of events. I should have been the one throwing a fit for catching her looking at

Jack’s pictures, but I’m the one cornered and blamed as if I cheated on her.

After a quick shower, I put on a t-shirt and shorts and head for the kitchen to cook the dinner.

I’d have preferred a little quickie before the meal, but I can’t, knowing she got herself off with Jack’s

photos. And, she’s probably too angry to take my edge off. I start cooking tacos with bean salsa,

while she reads something on her phone in the kitchen, without taking any break to talk to me.

Something is off, and I wish I could ask. It can’t really be the half-nakedness as my jogging

preferences, can it?

The silence falls heavier during the dinner, despite my attempts to discuss some neutral,

work-related issues. Except for brief yes’s and no’s and little shrugs, she eats silently, then gets up to

load the dirty plates into the dishwasher, and retires to the bedroom, claiming she’s tired. I watch her

disappear into our bedroom and settle into my study to work on the budgeting plans of a new project

we’re going to bid for, but Taylor’s remote attitude keeps distracting me. Finally, I give in and sneak

into our bedroom.

The lights are off, but the street light peeking through the curtains provides enough light for me

to see her lying on the bed, wearing a white tank top and panties. Shit, I can even see her stiff nipples

poking through the thin fabric of her top, and I wonder whether her sex is wet. I stroll toward her

silently and sit on the side of the bed. “What’s the matter, babe?”

She shrugs. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”

I reach up and brush her tender lips with my thumb. “Is that code for no sex tonight?” I joke,

keeping my posture ready to flee in case she tries to punch me. Instead, she flashes me a worn-out

smile. I wish there was no secrecy between us. Is she really upset with me for jogging without

wearing a t-shirt, or is there something else she isn’t telling me?

“No. I may be tired, but I still want to have sex.”

She’d probably choose to sleep if it hadn’t been for her jealousy fit earlier. She may even be

thinking she should satisfy my sexual needs to keep me from cheating on her. If only she knew how

nonexistent the option of cheating on her is for me. “You don’t need to cave in every time I want sex.

We’ll do it only when you want it.”

“I’m not caving into anything.” Her hand moves from her side up to her belly, slips under her

top toward her breast, and begins a slow kneading of the large globe beneath. The other one cups her

crotch over her panties.

My eyebrows rise with surprise, probably reaching up to my hairline, and I swallow hard. My

cock twists and jumps to life at the sight of her little, shameless performance. “Fuck baby, what are

you doing?”

Without waiting for her to respond, I hop on the bed and position myself between her legs.

Freeing her hair from the rubber band, I run my fingers through the thick strands and tilt her head so

her mouth is fully under me. I lick her lower lip slowly before sucking it, while my other hand

follows its usual trail from her neck, over the valley between her breasts, down to her smooth belly,

and finally beneath her panties, and between her legs. “You’re soaking wet.”

Someone once told me a man should approach a woman slowly and carefully not to scare her

away. And even though you might want to directly grab her pussy, it’s better to start with stroking her

body for several minutes before landing in her wet hole. Only, Taylor isn’t like that. She maybe

cranky, tired, or simply uninterested, but my hand massaging her clitoris and entrance will do the trick

and get her begging for my cock in a heartbeat.

As expected, her brief tiredness disappears quickly, while my fingers rub and pull the lips of

her labia and tease her entrance. My lips are kneading hers in synch with the ministrations of my hand

between her thighs. She’s blushing and moaning my name into my mouth between kisses, while her

hands free her arms from the straps of her top and pull it down, revealing her firm breasts for me to

enjoy. Her back arches up to brush her stiff nipples against my pecs, and my head involuntarily moves

down to her chest.

I lick her nipple, then suck it like a vacuum. Its firmness is a delicious contrast to the feathery

softness of the rest of her breast. I blow cold air at it and lick my way to the other breast.

“I want you,” she moans. Her thighs squeeze my hand, craving for it to move inside of her.

Her palms wander around my chest, nearing the dangerous area of my pelvis. One day, I’ll tie her up

and cover her mouth, so I can just focus on her breasts, kissing and sucking them for as long as I want,

and get my fill of them without getting interrupted by her pleas to be fucked.

“Say it, babe. I want to hear it.” I fist my fingers into her hair and pull a handful. Her head tilts

back with the force, and she gasps. That’s probably the only pain I can give her without feeling guilty

for hurting her. And apparently, she doesn’t dislike it either and lets the words I so desperately want

to hear roll off her tongue, “Fuck me, Adam, please. Now.” She pulls down her panties and kicks

them out.

“Again.” I push my forefinger into her entrance only for an inch, yet that little pressure is

enough to startle her. Her hips are pushing back and forth against my hand, her sex creaming my

fingers. I crawl up and lower my face to hers, my lips barely touching hers. I love having her begging

those lustful words into my mouth.

“Fuck me, please. Split me in two, shoot me all your sperm, make me pregnant. Please, I want

all of you.” She’s going in for the kill. Her being fat with my child is my biggest dream, and she

knows how much and how quickly it turns me on hearing those words from her mouth.

“Then, get ready for a wild ride, baby.” I press her thighs to spread them and launch my cock

inside her, intently watching her gasp for air and her irises grow larger with the blow. Her hands

slide around my waist over to my ass, and her fingers pinch my skin one after another, urging me to

hammer into her.

“Don’t do that,” I warn, knowing I may lose control very easily if she pushes me to the edge.

“Harder, Adam. I mean it.”

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Last time she teased me to fuck her hard, she had a

burning sensation in her vagina for two days straight. Now she wants the same pain? As much as I’d

like to let it go and take her the hard way I want, I don’t want to go without sex for several days in the

aftermath. So, I go for the medium and thrust into her with long and slow strokes and let my fingers

rub her clitoris to make her come faster.

“Harder. I’m so close.”

I cover her lips with mine to silence her, or I may not be able to keep my urges in check. Why

is she so desperate for a hard fuck? Is it because she’s too tense and can’t loosen up enough to get off

with my usual, not-so-gentle thrusts? Or she’s trying to forget or repress something else by getting

herself high and sore with a rough fuck?

She moves my hand up to her face and starts suctioning my tongue just as her pussy muscles

are tightly enveloping me. She’s furious and determined to be fucked thoroughly. Which is making it

impossible for me to stay focused. And for a brief moment, I lose it. Rising up on my knees, I pull up

and press her legs back over her head and begin to fuck her deep and hard, and she gets off with just a

few strokes.

The contractions of her muscles are a welcome to my throbbing cock; the sound of my

testicles slamming against her bare ass is toxic to my brain. She’s panting, trying unsuccessfully to

catch her breath. Tears are rolling down her temples, and cat-like moans ringing in my ears, her

cheeks blooming deep red. I continue hammering into her, making her scream louder with each thrust.

“I love you,” I purr, willing her to tell it back to me, so I can reach my own climax, too. It’s

not like she hasn’t told me she loved me. She did, several times. But, catching her staring at Jack’s

pictures has made me vulnerable, and I feel like I won’t be able to have my release without hearing

her love from her beautiful lips.

Her eyes are closed; she’s biting her lips, perhaps lost in an old memory with Jack. Her

spasms die out, yet my balls tense and ache with the agonizing need to release.

“I love you, do you hear me?” I say, louder this time. When she doesn’t respond, I plunge into

her harder to wake her up and take her back from whatever daydream she must be enjoying, despite

knowing that my thrusts will hurt her. But, I’ll be hurt, too, and perish without her love.

She snaps open her hazy eyes and moves her lips, but no intelligible words come out, only

meaningless moans.

“Say it,” I roar. “I need to hear it.”

Her inside muscles start to clench and pulse again, making my shaft feel triple its size with the

need to shoot. “I...” Her voice trails off, and her eyes roll back in her head inside their sockets. Her

body is shaking visibly. “I love you, Adam. I love you very much.” She forces the words out, although

she looks like she’d rather groan away her second climax.

As soon as her words are out, I thrust one last stroke and detonate my full load deep into her

womb, my body stiffening in the process. I free her legs and drop my full weight on her torso, still

keeping my pulsing cock inside her. She complains about being smashed down under me but doesn’t

try to push me away, and instead locks her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a profound

kiss.

“You’re going to be my end,” she says when she pulls her lips away from mine. If she means

her end in terms of having cardiac arrest because of having mind-blowing sex every time we end up

in bed, it’s probably a more valid point for me than her.

I’m too breathless and exhausted to respond to her, though. Slowly, I ease out of her, roll

down next to her on the bed, pulling her halfway up to my chest, and close my eyes. I can feel a deep,

refreshing sleep coming. Her hand slips down my torso and lands on my deflated cock, and she wraps

it around my shaft and testicles.

“What are you doing,” I ask, half dozing off, half awake.

“Trying to sleep,” she replies, without moving her hand away from my genitals.

I open my heavy-lidded eyes to look down at her. “With your hand on my junk?”

“Hmm, hmm.”

“Baby, I won’t be able to sleep like that.”

A sly grin appears at her lips. “Not my problem,” she murmurs.

Gently, I slip my shoulder away from under her head and roll on my side, my back against her

chest. She’s persistent about having her grip on my dick, and I wonder whether this new act has

anything to do with her bad mood. I close my eyes, willing myself into a deep sleep and let her do

whatever she feels like doing. Though my exhaustion borders close to death, I give up after some

minutes of tiresome internal discussion and roll back to face her. Her hand stays glued to my now-

semi-hard cock.

“I’m getting hard instead of some sleep.”

She slides open her eyes and glares at me. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep. I’ll suck it

off if you can’t.”

“Baby, now there’s no way sleep will come to me.” I smile and pull her back into my arms,

grinding my cock into her hand. “What’s the matter? Why the sudden need to grope me to sleep?”

Her eyes fall to my chest, and she keeps her lips pressed together. My mind roams back to the

morning and to the little lie I conveyed to her about Bree while having sex. Can she still be upset

about that? Is that why she exploded at me for not having a t-shirt on while jogging?

Can she be... jealous? Of me?

Here goes my presumption about holding the patent rights to be the jealous one in our

relationship.

“Talk to me, or I’ll fuck you until you speak,” I whisper softly to her ear. I move over to her to

prove my threat and resume my position between her legs, my erection pressed against her stomach.

Her eyes find mine, yet her mouth doesn’t open except for a muffled sound escaping from it

when I start rubbing her entrance with the head of my cock.

“Are you jealous?” The words feel as alien as the concept they represent. She has me

wrapped around her little finger, and I’m hers with everything I am and will ever be. How can the

thought of me cheating on her possibly cross her mind?

She nods. Her cheeks flush, possibly with embarrassment. “I can’t live with the fact that you

think about fucking other women.”

“Fucking other women? Do you even hear what you’re saying? It’s simply impossible. You

know why?”

She looks at me with inquisitive eyes. Everything about her looks so beautiful, I force myself

not to lean down and kiss her.

I slip my hand between her thighs and cup her crotch. “All I can think about is this tight, little,

pink hole of yours. Okay, I think about your mouth, your breasts, ass, and legs, too. But mostly this. I

fantasize about being inside it all day long and fucking you ’til you’re half dead. Because when I’m

inside you and we’re connected like this, it’s the only time I’m sure you’re mine completely with your

body, mind, and soul. Only at that precious moment, we become one and complete each other. Those

intimate moments with you are worth my life, and I’ll never change it for another woman, or a land, or

the possibility of being the president of the States. I’ll fuck you when you’re down, irritated, tired,

sick, pregnant, old and wrinkled. As long as I can get it hard and you want it, you’ll have your daily

doses of my seed and I’ll have my daily doses of you.”

Before I slide my cock inside of her again, I run my thumb through her swollen folds, which

are still soaked with my previous release. She must be hurting from the earlier sex, but doesn’t try to

stop me. Instead, she’s moaning again as if she’s enjoying the pain my cock must be inflicting on her

tender flesh. Or maybe she doesn’t feel the pain now that she’s still high with the recent orgasms.

She’ll be sore tomorrow, yet I’d rather die than pull out of her wanting pussy and ignore its

need to come apart again. She must be burning with the same desire as I, because she’s purring “I

want you, I want you so bad,” into my ear.

“You have me.” I lace my fingers through her hair to hold her face securely close to mine. Her

big, blue eyes are restless, darting between my own eyes and lips. I dip my head until my lips are

barely touching hers and whisper to her mouth, “And just so you know, there’s no fleeing me even if

you change your mind someday. I’ll find you wherever you go and make you mine again.”

She moves forward to draw my lips to hers, barely letting me finish my words, and surprises

me with a kiss full of longing and possessiveness, while I slide in and out of her with slow and long

strokes. Her hands claw my shoulders and biceps. Mine wander down, cup her breasts, and then roam

down over to her belly.

One day, maybe very soon, her belly will be fat and round with my child in it, and that’ll be

the ultimate proof of my claim on her. Not even Jack can measure up to that. Dead or alive.

Her hips are moving in constant, little circles around my erection, making me marvel at her

scorching neediness to get off. I’m so tired I start feeling dizzy, but my desire to satisfy her and meet

her at that ultimate point of oneness as we come apart overpowers everything else. She breaks our

kiss and tilts her head forward to watch me fuck her swollen sex, and I can’t help but shudder at the

sight of the colossal lust flooding her expression.

I straighten back and slip my hands under her buttocks to carry her hips up so she can get a

better view of our fuck. Her hands are helplessly grasping the bed sheets, and each time my cock

disappears between her engorged folds, she groans and closes her eyes, only to open them again to

see my cock sliding out, glistening with her juices. Her lower lip is trapped between her teeth, her

hair a rowdy mess, her eyes wildly dilated. She looks like she can barely hold it together and soon

starts trembling with a wave of tormenting spasms, massaging my cock inside her vagina.

The heady rush of orgasm doesn’t keep her from announcing her love to me, this time without

me having to ask for it. She rises up to unite our lips with a deep, consuming kiss, urging my looming

climax closer. Her convulsing inner muscles are boiling, and drenched, and milking my cock violently

for my load. I run my hands through her hair at the back of her head to hold her in place, while I pound

into her with deep and hard strokes and blow my fervent seeds deep into her still-contracting pussy.

If this isn’t an undeniable proof of my complete submission to her, then I don’t know what is.

“I’m yours and you’re mine. Forever,” I say as the last spurt of my sperm fills her pussy. I pull out, sit

back, and watch the thick, white liquid gushing out of her sex—the clear proof of my claim on her—

and smear it with my fingers around her labia and her mound up to her belly. “You’ll sleep like this,

with my signature on you.”

A drained smile tugs at her lips, and she grabs my hand, bringing it to her mouth, and licks the

sperm off my fingers. Then, she drags me down, and I happily settle beside her, drifting into a deep

sleep, without being bothered by her small hand residing again over my cock.

5 – TAYLOR: Insecurities, go away!

I drive Adam to a morning meeting that he claims to have scheduled weeks ago with Mr.

Hawkins for the biggest project Edelman Constructions are overtaking under my management. The

peculiar detail Adam has difficulty conveying to me is that instead of Mr. Hawkins himself, his

daughter is coming to the meeting.

I try not to dwell too much on the fact that Adam will have a meal with a young woman in a

chic restaurant in Hollywood, but I can’t stop myself from waiting on the street across from the

restaurant after dropping off Adam, to see exactly what kind of woman Miss Hawkins is.

I find myself swallowing big chunks of saliva to repress my shock, when an incredibly tall

and beautiful, blonde girl—she can’t be more than twenty five—shakes hands with Adam in front of

the restaurant entrance.

I curse myself for not knowing about this meeting, or I’d personally be there with Adam, or

better yet, prevent Adam from joining. My new assistant, Sabrina, must have forgotten to inform me

about it. If I was the cold-hearted bitch Bree sometimes jokingly calls me, I’d fire Sabrina on the

spot. However, I manage to accept the fact that my insecurities with myself and my husband aren’t

actually Sabrina’s problem.

I wait fifteen minutes, trying to convince myself that it’s better for everyone involved if I don’t

go busting up the meeting. I’ll not just appear as an insecure nutcase of a wife, but it’ll damage my

professional appearance as a boss of a multi-million-dollar company as well.

So, I swallow my pride and drive to work, whispering heart-wrenching prayers to God that

Adam won’t have any interest in that girl.

After I park the car in the gated parking lot of the building hosting my office, I hasten

apprehensively to the elevator. My fear stems from the violent assault I experienced in the parking lot

of my apartment building, thanks to Valerie. Being in a parking lot still gives me the shivers.

Particularly when I’m alone, like today.

I have to remind myself that the assailant is behind bars and Valerie heavily medicated in a

well-guarded psychiatric ward, in order to make it to the elevator without having a panic attack. As

soon as the doors slide close and the elevator begins to ascend, I take a deep breath and check my

phone. No message or missed calls. Adam must be fully concentrated on Miss Hawkins.

Okay, no. I shouldn’t worry about the tiny possibility of Adam becoming interested in that girl.

He promised in front of all our families and friends to love and cherish me for the rest of our lives

and not get involved with someone else. I should take his words seriously. Yet, it’s not always so

easy. Damn it!

I try not to think about the fact that Adam left Pat, his girlfriend of four years, for me, and not

even my then relationship with his best friend could stop the ordeal Pat had to suffer after their

breakup. I'm afraid Adam’s love for me has a shelf life, too, until the next girl comes and steals him

away from me.

This is new to me; needing a man’s constant attention, hanging onto every word that comes out

of his mouth. And the worst of it all is feeling jealous. I’d never entertained any thought of jealousy

when I was with Jack, and I know I shouldn’t with Adam either, since he’s been nothing but loyal.

Still, I can’t seem to keep myself from biting my nails while wondering whether Adam has already

started fantasizing about that girl.

I shake away the distracting thoughts, when Sabrina greets me with at the doorway and gets

my jacket. Her big, brown eyes smile, and she nods briefly with her head when I ask for a cup of tea

and heads for the kitchen.

I open my office door to find Bree settled in my chair, her feet on my desk. A particularly

strange scene, but good enough to push away my obsessive thoughts about Adam.

Raising an eyebrow, I cross my arms and shake my head. “HR manager is the highest rank you

can ever get in this company.”

Bree laughs and draws her legs down. “I was just testing the chair for its level of comfort. I

think it’s about time to get rid of some of the ancient furniture and bring in a modern, fresh feeling to

our offices.”

I stride toward my desk, wave at her so she leaves my chair alone, and toss my handbag into

the top drawer. “My chair is just fine, so is the rest of the furniture in our company.”

“I’d like to politely disagree, because it’s a proven fact that anatomically shaped office chairs

dramatically improve work productivity.”

“Working instead of chatting about nonsense has the same effect, too,” I say.

“Maybe. But, I managed to land a great discount at a newly opened furniture store in Burbank.

If we’re going to trick more clients into doing business with us, our offices should look luxurious and

classy. Every little detail in our offices, especially yours, should say you’re rolling in the cash. It’s

all about having a successful image.”

Sabrina enters with a cup of tea, leaves it on the desk for me, and disappears without saying a

word. She and Bree couldn’t have been more different, standing at the polar ends of the talkativeness

scale. Bree would never leave a room without opening her mouth to give her opinion, even if she

didn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. She has this immense need to pour out every little thing

that’s crossing her mind, while Sabrina is so silent, with both her mouth and in her behavior, that I

have to sometimes check on her office to see whether she’s still there, only to find her silently

working.

I take a sip from the black tea and settle behind my desk. “Our quality work should speak for

us, not some overly priced furniture that’ll be outdated in less than two years anyway.”

“Let me just remind you of how much Adam appreciates a juicy, round ass. If you keep on

sitting on that chair, your ass will flatten like that of an eighty-year-old granny.”

She had to bring that up, while jealous thoughts about Miss Hawkins are running rampant in

my mind and Adam’s made-up story about having sex with Bree is still fresh in my memory. I wonder

how much of that story was made up spontaneously and how much of it belongs to his daily fantasies.

The thought of Adam with another woman makes my insides twist with disgust. Actually it’s

more than that; it gives me a painful sense of bloating in the abdomen, although I can’t really see what

one thing has to do with the other. I shift in my chair to ease the increasing discomfort, but the

pressure multiplies to the level of unbearable, which leaves me no choice but to relax my muscles.

Everywhere.

Dang it!

Bree wide opens her eyes, then winces, covering her nose with her fingers. “Have you just

farted?”

I cover my face with shame. “Sorry!” Have I just given her the topic of the month to gossip

around the office?

Bree laughs, bending forward, gripping her belly as the laughter shakes her body. “Don’t

worry, it’s just me. Did you eat chili? ’Cause that makes me fart like a mule, too.”

“We ate Mexican. Something with bean salsa. I can’t remember the name of the food,” I pause

to consider whether it’s really the beans that put me in such an embarrassing position. “You’re not to

say a word about it to anyone. Understand?”

“No, I won’t,” Bree can only whisper in between laughs and moves toward the windows to

open one and let some fresh air in. This’d be the right time for the earth to swallow me and never

release me again.

I watch her awkwardly until her laughter winds down, and she finally sits on the chair across

me.

“Now that we crossed this strange boss-and-subordinate border with the worsts-smelling fart

that can ever come out of a human, I feel compelled to ask you for a favor.”

“You’re not threatening to use it against me if I say no, are you?” I can’t even fire her, even if

I wanted. She’s just become a part of my life with her constant support.

“No way. I just need someone to accompany me to a blind date. You see, I have been chatting

for ages with this guy I met online, and today we’re gonna meet for the first time. He’s smart and

funny, but didn’t want to send me a picture of himself. I need to know if the reason is because he’s too

hideous to look at. If you drive over to the restaurant with me and spy on him before I meet him,

you’ll spare me a boring lunch if he’s bald, or has a third ear, or something.”

I roll my eyes with an effect. “There are several bald guys that are handsome. And, I don’t

need to spy on him to know he’s hideous. No guy posting on Craigslist will be handsome to any

degree.”

“Like I don’t know that. I met him through LASingles.com. Why do you think I’d look for a guy

on Craigslist, anyway?”

“Oh, Bree, come on. I’ve got work to do. Have you already forgotten about that Craigslist ad

with Adam’s picture on it?” I turn on my laptop and enter my password, waiting for Bree to get back

to her work. But she doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t. If it was up to her, she’d bring a cup of coffee

and settle on the couch, crossing her legs yoga style, and chat the morning away.

“Uh, which ad are you talking about? I most certainly did not send you anything with Adam’s

picture.”

“Yes, you did, like, a week ago.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Letting out an impatient breath, I grab my phone to retrieve the message Bree sent me just to

prove my point, despite the work time I’m losing.

“Here,” I say and scroll down through the message folder to locate hers. Only, the message

isn’t there. I scroll down to older messages, although I’m pretty sure I received the message on

Monday a week ago. Yet, the message doesn’t show up. Either my phone is eating up some of the

messages, or something fishy is going on. “Okay, I can’t find the message here, but I’m sure I received

a message from you about Adam.”

“Well, I’d say ‘if you say so,’ but I swear I didn’t send you anything about Adam.”

Bree walks around the desk and leans down beside me, as I open my inbox on my laptop and

run a thorough search using “The miracle of the Miracle Mile,” as keyword. When results come out

null, I run the same search on Google. Bingo! I find the ad on craigslist, but when I click on it, it says,

“This posting has been deleted by its author.”

It’s not all gone, though. After all, isn’t it true that nothing posted on the internet is ever totally

deleted? I click on the cached link, and boom! Adam’s naked torso fills the screen.

“I’d definitely remember it if I’d sent you that,” Bree says, gaping at the laptop screen.

She barely regains her composure, when I elbow her hip to make her stop drooling.

“Who else would send it to me, if not you?”

She doesn’t respond, and instead reads the text on the ad, and breaks into another laugh. “This

is hilarious. I mean, it can’t be possible. What were those women thinking? There can’t be people out

there desperate enough to put up an ad like this.”

“I know, right?”

Her laughter diminishes, and she turns to gaze at me. “Tell me you’re not bothered by it.”

“What? No.” I don’t want to make a bigger fool of myself than I already did with farting. Oh,

god. How could I have not held myself until I found a bathroom?

“Good, because there’s no way Adam is going to cheat on you.”

“You think so?” That shouldn’t have come out of my mouth.

This time, she rolls her eyes. “Adam knows you so well. That’s why he asked me to keep

quiet about his morning meeting with Chloe Hawkins.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s hot, but that shouldn’t bother you, because Adam only has eyes for you. Well, I’d love

to stay and talk with you until the sun goes down, but I have a full day of work ahead of me, and my

boss isn’t really a forgiving one,” she says, while I work to hold the smile breaking out on my lips.

“You are coming to lunch with me to spy on my date, and I don’t accept no for an answer.”

“Okay, I will,” I say and watch her go.

Adam is aware of my jealousy issues? Just fantastic. I bet he’s aware of his Miracle-Mile fan

club, too. I let out an irritated breath.

If it wasn’t Bree, then who sent me the message? And how the hell did it get deleted from my

inbox? I’d have started thinking I’m going crazy, if I hadn’t found the ad on Google, but the fact that

the ad itself was erased doesn’t exactly calm my nerves.

Two hours pass without hearing anything from Adam. The meeting should have been over long

ago, yet, he neither called me nor left a message at his office. This, however, isn’t unusual of him. He

must be on the construction site and simply have forgotten to call me. I shouldn’t worry. No, I

shouldn’t. But I do, and the bloated feeling comes back again as suddenly as it came last time. But this

time I have to release a long chain of loud gas to ease the pain.

The bloating can’t possibly be related to my insecurities about Adam, can it? I’d better set up

an appointment with my doctor, or better yet, with my therapist, if I want to keep my position as the

manager of Edelman Constructions. Even being the major share-holder won’t be enough to keep me

occupying this office, if I keep on bombarding gas more poisonous than biological weapons every

time I picture Adam with another woman.

Shit, here it goes another loud fart. If it’s because of acupuncture, I’m going to stop it on the

spot. I’d rather have the fogginess in my head those fertility drugs gave me than way-too-relaxed

muscles.

After I open the other window and draw fresh air into my lungs, I call Dr. Fowler’s office to

ask for an urgent appointment. When the receptionist asks for the reason for the urgency, I find myself

explaining to her not just the bloating but also the farting to justify the emergency. Her cracked voice

right after hearing my problem makes me uneasy, but she gives me an appointment for four p.m.

Hoping Dr. Fowler will be able to fix my problem before anyone else is exposed to my farts, I go

back to work and spend the rest of the morning reading the accounting reports of a current project,

then grab my handbag to take Bree out to her blind lunch date.

We take my car, and I drive the three blocks to the restaurant.

“He said he’s going to wear a navy-blue suit and carry a black suitcase,” Bree says, while

applying a dark-red lipstick. Her thick, blonde hair is flat around her shoulders, and her brown eyes

look larger with eyeliner framing them.

I pull out the key and open the door to head out. “There must be half a dozen guys wearing

something like that.”

“Oh, and a red tie.”

“How romantic.” I slam the door and hurry across the street. As I guessed, the bistro is

bustling with businessmen in suits. I scan around for a bald guy, because he’s most likely without hair

—not having the courage to send a picture of himself—and locate a navy-blue-suited guy without any

hair at all and wearing a red tie, at one of the booths. Aside from the lack of hair on his head, he looks

handsome with his blue eyes, thick lips, and spotless, fair skin. I sit at a table close enough to be able

to take his picture without raising eyebrows, and as soon as I send the picture to Bree, I hasten back

to my car.

Bree’s sullen face welcomes me. “I knew he’d turn out to be bald.”

“He may be bald, but he’s not ugly. I say give him a chance and go check him out yourself. He

has an atypical sexiness about him.”

“I don’t know.”

I insert the key into the ignition and turn to her. “What are you gonna lose if you spent half

hour enjoying a free meal with a guy who, according to your words, is funny and smart?”

“Yeah, I forgot about the free-meal aspect of it. And, who knows, he might have a cock the

size of my forearm.”

“Oh, shut up. That’s disgusting.”

“Your fart was disgusting. This is just a simple comment.”

I guess I’ll never be able to get rid of the label I brought on myself. “Whatever. Are you gonna

keep thinking and lose the chance of meeting a possibly nice guy, or take a risk and see what life has

in store for you?”

“Okay, okay. I’m going. But, if he’s not half as attractive as you’re selling him to be, you’ll

owe me a lunch.”

“Deal,” I confirm and watch her leave the car.

“Hey, what’s that?” I call out, pointing toward the small business card attached to the

windshield wiper.

Bree walks around the car, pulls the card out of the wiper, and leans into the window on my

side. “Loving wives,” she reads it before handing it to me. “Looks like a housekeeper’s ad to me.”

I analyze the dark-red square with golden cursive letters on it. Doesn’t look at all like a

housekeeper ad, unless they clean the house with French-maid suits and do lap dance in addition to

cleaning.

“I’m leaving. See you in a bit,” Bree says, taking my attention back to her, as she runs across

the street. She might have been a little disappointed over the fact that her date lacked hair, but the

cheerful way she’s walking toward the bistro is a sure sign that she thinks he might actually be a good

catch.

Adam doesn’t come back to work in the afternoon, nor does he call. My mind, luckily, is too

occupied with the intestinal bloating to waste on any troubling thoughts on him. As I gather my

handbag and head toward my door, Adam appears at the doorway, with a heart-melting smile attached

to his lips.

“Hey, beautiful, are you going somewhere?” he asks, his eyes roaming over my body. I gasp

for air and stifle the little moan that was about to escape. His voice, his gaze, his simple presence can

easily make my knees go weak. Why should other women react differently?

“Yeah, heading out to...” I try to find an excuse to cover up my doctor’s appointment. I don’t

want him worrying about me and more importantly, he shouldn’t know about my farting, or any

sexiness I might have in his eyes will vanish in an instant. “To the dentist. I’m having my teeth

cleaned.”

“Oh, okay.” He steps in and closes the door behind him before pulling me into his arms. “I’ve

missed you, baby. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I...” I can’t respond because his lips take up residence on mine, making me moan and drop

my handbag to the ground. I open up for him and let his tongue get a taste of my hunger for him, licking

and sucking it back. His expert lips calm my agitated nerves, and I wrap my arms around him, hanging

on to him as if I’m hanging on to life. His hands glide down my sides and grab my hips, pressing me

against his hard-on.

He’s already aroused.

Any other day, I’d think it’s for me, but not today. I wish I hadn’t seen that woman he’d met in

the morning, then I could enjoy this brief make-out session with Adam.

I draw my lips and body back, though my arms are still tight around his neck. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. You must have five minutes for me.” He moves his hand down, below my

abdomen, and pulls up my skirt to cup my crotch. I moan through my lips, as his finger slide under the

seam of my panties and touch my swollen flesh. I’m ready for him to take me, even without foreplay.

He has that power over me.

He sinks his finger inside my opening and pulls me back to him. My head drops on his

shoulder, and I bite his skin through his shirt as his finger explores my insides. I have no way to

escape this delicious insult and give up all too soon.

I don’t usually agree to have sex in my office, but this is an exception. I need to erase this

doubt and know he’s mine.

“Let me fill your sweet pussy with my come,” he whispers into my ear, then sticks his tongue

inside, while his finger works its way deeper into my flesh.

His come in my pussy? Dr. Fowler will smell it on me if she comes anywhere near my

abdomen. “I can’t.” I sigh mixed with another moan, as the first waves of orgasm hits though me.

“Yes, you can.” He pushes the tip of his finger against the walls inside me, spreading the

ecstasy all around. I feel my whole body convulse under his wicked touches, while barely noticing

his eyes intently watching me through my hazing rapture.

When the orgasm ends, along with the spasms, he pulls his finger out and sticks it into my

mouth to let me get a taste of myself, before his tongue sweeps my lips. “Now it’s my turn.” His hips

pin me against the wall, his cock bulging out through his slacks.

I consider going down on him, but somehow he needs more time to come in my mouth than in

my vagina. He claims that my mouth is simply too cozy to leave it so soon. But I know better; my oral

skills aren’t as up to par as his are. Right now, as much as I want to taste his desire for me, I just have

enough time to barely make it to the clinic.

“I really should go.” I manage to escape his tight grip and open the door.

“You’ll pay for it at home. Just so you know.”

“With pleasure,” I reply.

“Don’t be so sure about it.” He runs his hands through his hair, and I have to turn away, or I’ll

jump back at him for being so seductive. How I could have overcome his sexual aura for three long

years is beyond me.

As a final attempt to escape the effect of his seizing eyes on me, I force myself out of my

office. Even if Dr. Fowler won’t find a trace of Adam’s sperm in me, I wonder whether she’ll see the

signs of my recent orgasm.

I don’t wait longer than five minutes at Dr. Fowler’s clinic and am quickly ushered into her

office. She greets me standing up and shakes my hand. “Jenny tells me you’ve had some

uncomfortable digestive issues at work.”

“Uncomfortable is an underestimation. My co-worker was present,” I admit, feeling my

cheeks blushing.

“Do you have diarrhea or constipation along with the bloating?”

“No.”

“Any medication or supplementation that we don’t have on your records, including herbal

teas?”

“No. Nothing except for the acupuncture sessions I’m having once every week for the last

three months.”

“I haven’t heard of any such side effect of acupuncture, but I’m not exactly expert in it.” She

types something into her computer and motions toward the examination table. “When was the first day

of your last period?”

I frown, while trying to remember the date. And when I can’t, I pull my phone out of my purse

to check the calendar. “March 21

.”’

She averts her eyes from the computer screen to land them on me. “That’s five weeks ago.”

I’m usually very regular with my period, never going longer than twenty nine days. Can it be

another side effect of acupuncture? Or simply its intended effect?

Before I can verbalize my thoughts, Dr. Fowler says, “Pregnancy is one of the most common

causes of bloating among women. I’ll order some blood work just to check up on everything.”

Pregnant? Oh, god! Can I really be pregnant? Adam will freak out. I am freaking out, if the

shaking of my hands is a sign of anything.

“I know how you and your husband wish to have a child, but let's not pop out the champagne

just yet before we see the lab results,” Dr. Fowler comments with an apologetic smile on her face.

I nod, still unable to push away the possibility of carrying a tiny life inside me. Dr. Fowler

asks a few more questions about my health then requests me to take my clothes off below the waist.

I do as she says and lie down on the exam table while a nurse prepares the ultrasound

machine. Dr. Fowler examines my abdominal region thoroughly, inside and out, with her hands before

grabbing the ultrasound pads. “It’s a little early to detect pregnancy with ultrasound at this point.” She

runs the pads from my mound up to my navel. “You seem to have an excessive amount of gas

accumulated in your intestines. If it’s not due to pregnancy, it might be related to something you ate

recently in the best case. In the worst case, you might have inflammation in your bowels or even

lactose or gluten intolerance. Try to eliminate the consumption of high-fiber and diary food from your

diet for a few days until we get your blood and stool analyses done.”

“Stool analysis?”

“Yes. Just to rule out anything serious. Jenny will explain to you what you need to know about

it in a minute.”

Jenny comes into the room with a plastic bag in her hand and describes to me how I should

collect my stool, using the stool collection kit in the plastic bag, without having it mixed with urine or

water from the toilet bowl. Staring at the kit she hands me, I really wish it’s the pregnancy and not

some kind of bowel disorder. She even goes into some beyond-fascinating details about how I can do

a preliminary analysis myself and get a sense of whether it looks healthy to a naked eye. I think I’d

rather leave any kind of analysis related to my excrement to the experts in that area.

And, there’s absolutely no way I’ll be talking to Adam about it, much less ask for help from

him. I’d prefer farting a dozen more times in front of Bree than having Adam think of me as anything

less than sexy.

I work really hard to contain my excitement while waiting in the waiting room to get my blood

test results. I notice I bit all my nails, when Dr. Fowler comes out to the waiting room with a pleasant

smile parting her lips.

“Am I?” I jump up to my feet and stride toward her.

She nods. “Yes, you are, according to the results. You might still want to bring us a stool

sample so we can check out everything.”

I don’t know if I should hug her for giving me the best news ever. “I will,” I say and shake her

hands eagerly. With the stool kit squeezed in my purse, I rush out of the clinic and grab my phone to

share the news with Adam, but cancel the call before it can go through. I want to see his face when he

hears the words come out of my mouth. Want him to sweep me off the ground and spin me around with

the sheer happiness the existence of our baby will give him.

The minutes in my car are torturous, and my pounding heartbeats aren’t helping. It’ll be a

miracle if I can make it to home before I end up in emergency for a heart attack.

We will have a baby. A tiny reflection of us. The proof of our love.

A fragile being totally dependent on us.

I can’t exactly say it’s calming. Will I make a good mother? Will I be able to take care of

him? I have no tangible experience with kids. I have neither changed a diaper nor fed a baby in my

life. The one time I remember holding a baby is when I visited an employee after she’d given birth.

And I nearly dropped the child. I shouldn’t worry about all those, though. Adam has enough

experience with children, and I guess I’ll have it in me once the baby is born.

I run to the elevator in the parking lot, not for fear this time, but for the pure thrill of the

forthcoming minutes when I break the news to Adam.

Only, he’s not home. A post-it note grabs my attention. Disappointment washes over me when

I read his hand-written note. “Going for a jog. Will be back at 7:30.”

That’s in two hours. How am I supposed to wait two frigging hours? And, will he seriously

run for that long? Then I remember his plans to join a 10k marathon in two weeks. I guess I shouldn’t

make a problem out of it. He won’t have spare time for any type of hobby with his new duties as a

father after the baby is born.

I yawn and stretch my arms out while walking to the bedroom. The over-joy of finding out

about my pregnancy has left me exhausted. I guess the hormonal change may have something to do

with it, too.

While putting on a t-shirt and yoga pants, I examine the reflection of my body in the mirror.

My belly seems larger and feels very hard, most likely due to gasses that haven’t managed to make

their way out. I’ll swell like never before, not just my belly, but my face and hips, too. Even so, I’d

rather have the shape of a snowball with our children than a model’s figure but childless.

Will Adam still find me attractive? He’ll most likely be in seventh heaven rather than

complaining about my appearance. I don’t think his sisters will share his enthusiasm about our baby,

though. Neither of the four has accepted me as Adam’s wife and must be secretly wishing he’ll go

back to Pat. I hope the baby will be the miracle I need for them to finally accept me as a member of

their family.

A permanent one.

With my hands gently massaging my belly, I move to the bed. This will be the first time I’m

going to fall asleep knowing a life is growing in me. I’ll have to pay more attention to my health, eat

more, and most importantly back off on the workload. Not just during the pregnancy, but later on, too.

As much as I want Jack’s company to perform at the top of the market, my priorities will switch so I

can attend the needs of my child.

I slip between the sheets, careful not to put much pressure on my belly, and close my eyes.

Although my body is exhausted, my brain won’t shut down and keeps producing questions about the

future. Are we going to be able to buy a home before the birth of our baby? Should I stop the

acupuncture sessions now that I’m pregnant or continue to boost my hormonal balance? When should I

announce the news at work? When will I take a maternity leave from work? Although I’m the owner

of the company, it’ll be unfair if I take a much longer time than the employees are granted. I’ll have to

discuss it with Adam, and maybe with Bree, too.

With more questions popping up in my mind, I slowly find myself drifting into a relaxing

sleep. Whatever problems I might encounter, I’ll be able to overcome everything as long as Adam is

by my side.

From far away, I start hearing radio playing “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. I hate that

song, since it’d been playing seconds before the car crash that took Jack away from me. The pitch-

black darkness around me makes me want to get up to switch the lights on, but I realize I can’t move.

My body feels heavy, like a giant chunk of cement, and a man’s voice echoes from the distance.

“The breaks don’t work; the breaks don’t work.” It’s Jack. His last words before he gave his

last breath.

Air escapes my lungs, and a sharp pain hits my abdomen. It’s a dream. I must be sleeping. I

shouldn’t let the depressive thoughts sprout in my mind again, yet the pain in my abdomen doesn’t feel

like the product of my imagination. I try to open my eyes and move my hands up to my stomach.

It’s dark but not pitch-black as it was in my dream, since the street light is glowing through the

curtains. Kicking the sheets away, I straighten up and reach for the light switch.

The brightness of the light has me squinting, but even so, I don’t miss the bright-red color on

my pants. My heart stops. Red covers everything in my vision. If there’s a moment as excruciating as I

had when my aunt told me about Jack’s death after I opened my eyes in the hospital, that moment is

happening now. I don’t need to be a doctor to know this amount of blood is not a good sign.

I clutch my stomach and squeeze my legs together to ease the pain that seems to be growing by

the second. My heart hurts even more. The blood takes everything with it. My dreams of a family, the

home Adam and I were going to buy, the vacations we were going to take together, Christmases,

Thanksgivings.

After a moment of struggling, I manage to get up and head to the bathroom. As soon as I sit on

the toilet bowl, though, I hear a plop into the water and glance down to see the big mass of a blood

clot floating.

Oh, god. Is that my baby? If I had any doubts earlier in the bed, now I’m sure I’m going

through a miscarriage. Should I take the blood clot out to get it analyzed or just flush it? Why isn’t

Adam here with me when I need him the most?

Maybe he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t know I’m losing our first child. Probably our only child.

I don’t know what’s better. Not being able to conceive at all or conceiving then miscarrying.

Adam will be so disappointed in me. In my abilities as a woman.

I clean myself, place a pad on my panties, and hurry back to the living room. It’s seven. Half

an hour before Adam is supposed to arrive. He won’t experience any disappointment, if he doesn’t

find out the truth.

I gather the bed sheets that are covered with my blood, dump them into the washer, and change

into a shirt and a skirt. My tears are falling freely, wetting my shirt, as I hasten out of the apartment.

Why did this happen to me? I already lost my mother, my cousin, my husband, and now my

baby. How many more lives will I be forced to separate from?

I call a cab and wait for it outside since there’s no way I can handle driving right now. A

sudden cramp hits my stomach, making me double over in pain. The cab arrives in minutes, and I hop

in, biting my lip to be able to cope with the pain.

“Cedar Sinai emergency department,” I say and cover my face to hide when I see Adam

running around the corner toward our apartment building. He sprints the last few feet and leaps his

way up the steps, two at a time. He must be impatient to fill me with his seed, make me pregnant with

his kid, and have the family he’s always been dreaming of. If only he knew... “Hurry,” I yell, my

voice coated with anger and pain.

Why me? Why can’t my body handle a simple thing the majority of women do without a

problem? Drug addicts can have children without even wanting to. I’m only twenty-seven for god’s

sake. Adam’s mother gave birth to the twins when she was forty three.

I’m a major failure.

The emergency doctor who attends me confirms what I already know. I try to hold myself

together as the doctor speaks, but my efforts are useless. My tears and sobs prevent me from

following what she’s saying. If I hadn’t gone to Dr. Fowler this afternoon, I’d have thought I was

having my period, only a few days delayed, without being aware of the loss of my baby.

Ah, the bliss of ignorance. That’s exactly why Adam shouldn’t know about the miscarriage.

I take a cab back home after several hours of crying at the emergency. As soon as I unlock the

door of our condo and open it to enter, Adam shows up at the doorway, with his eyebrows knitted

together, worry lines across his forehead. Rightly so, because it’s close to midnight and I have yet to

check my phone. Pulling me to his chest, he embraces me tightly, and I can’t help but forget about my

promises to keep a straight face to hide the miscarriage from him.

Sobs choke my throat, and tears blur my vision, as I hug him back.

“Where have you been? I even called the police.” He draws back, pushing the door closed

with his foot, and slips a finger under my chin to steer my face up.

I can’t look at his eyes just yet. “I didn’t feel good.”

“Why? What have you got?”

“My period started today.”

“So?”

No, there’s no frigging way I can tell him about the loss of our baby. About my incapability. I

can’t handle seeing the disappointment in his face right now. “You know.”

“If it’s about getting pregnant, we’re not officially trying to get pregnant yet.”

“We’re not?” I raise my eyes to gaze at him directly.

“No. We are only fooling around, just like young couples who are deeply in love do. If we

were seriously trying it, we’d calculate your ovulation date and take appropriate measures to make

sure your egg is fertilized my by super-duper sperms.”

I feel my lips curl up with a reserved smile. Only he can pull out a smile out of me in these

circumstances. “Oh, plural, huh? Are you planning to get me pregnant with triplets?”

“Triplets? I want you to compete with octomom.”

I laugh and drop my head on his chest; fresh tears begin wetting my cheeks. Octomom could

carry on a pregnancy with eight babies, while I couldn’t handle just one. What does that say about

me?

“Hey, hey, hey. What is it really about?”

I don’t answer.

“Is it because you were late for your period and thought you were pregnant?”

I swallow and freeze at my place. He’s so perceptive; it’s both annoying and disarming.

“How do you know I was late?”

“Do you seriously think I wouldn’t notice the extra week I got to enjoy you this month?”

I slap at his chest. “You’re a perv.”

“You’re the wife of a perv. What are you gonna do about it?” Whisking me off my feet, he

carries me to the bedroom, and gently places me on the bed.

A deep urge to feel his love and support fills me, and I pull him toward me and rest my head

on his chest. My favorite position to cuddle. He doesn’t draw away, doesn’t even question my

neediness, and hugs me tightly until I feel myself safe in a cocoon of love. Even the pain in my

abdomen eases down with the relaxation I feel in his arms.

“When are we going to officially start trying?” I whisper, my lips touching his hot skin.

“It’s up to you, baby. I can start tomorrow or a decade later.”

“Right... Like you can wait that long?”

“You have no idea how much I love fucking you. Once we have kids, though, I won’t have the

luxury to have you as often as I’d like.” He slides down on the bed to come to my eyelevel and takes

my face into his hand, before brushing my lips with his. His fingers caress my cheek and neck, and the

growing bulge beneath his pants is just the proof of his words.

If only I could believe he’s not telling me that just to calm me down.

6- TAYLOR: Over-priced

The emotional and physical pain of a miscarriage doesn’t abandon me the next day. I wake up

around noon to an empty bed, decide to skip breakfast, and instead settle in front of the TV with a

glass of orange juice. Everything would have been different, if I had woken up with my baby still

alive in my womb. Adam would have made tender love to me, prepared a huge breakfast, and even

carried me around in his arms so as not to allow me to strain myself. In reality, though, I have to

grieve the loss of our baby all by myself.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I answer it without looking at the caller ID, “Did

you miss me already?”

“Yes, love. I can’t stay a minute without thinking of you.” Bree’s laugh erupts in my ear.

“Oh, you.”

“Disappointed much?”

I snort. “Is the world coming to an end without me at work?”

“No, not yet. Though, it might be very soon. Adam hasn’t arrived from his meeting with Chloe

Hawkins yet.”

Adam is having a meeting with that woman again? Why? And why didn’t he tell me anything

about it?

“Still there?” Bree asks. “I won’t take much of your time. Just need confirmation from you

about the expenditure on furniture.”

“Oh, that. How much will that cost me?” Hope not more than ten thousand, but I feel it’s

wishful thinking.

“Remember, this is a discounted price. The original price was thirty percent more.”

Yeah, definitely wishful thinking. “How much?”

“Fifty grand.”

“Fifty thousand dollars? Are you kidding me?” I shout, feeling like I’m talking to my sister for

acting this recklessly.

“Just your office renovation is fifteen g. Believe me, this is deeply reduced.”

“Bree. I’m sorry but I can’t accept it. It may be discounted, but it’s still too much to pay at this

moment. Thank you for bringing the need to change the furniture to my attention, but I’m gonna have to

pass on it for a few months, until we have a clearer idea about the expenses of the Berenson project.”

Most likely a few years than months.

“Oh. That’s too bad, because I already approved the purchase, and they’ll keep ten percent of

the total if we ask for a refund. That’s five thousand dollars.”

“Bree!” I yell. “Why did you do that without first consulting me?” Five thousand dollars for

nothing? I could have donated that money to St Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and it would have

changed someone’s life, rather than changing a silly piece of furniture. “Can’t you change it and order

something cheaper?”

“I’m afraid no. We’ll have to renew the furniture sooner or later, anyway. Henry, from

accounting, has been complaining about the bugs eating up his drawers forever. If the building

management gets a whiff of it, they’ll cancel our lease on the spot for not informing them on time.”

“If bugs are our problem, we need to call the pest control before spending thousands of

dollars on new furniture.”

“Yeah, I’m on it, too. I hired a service and they’re coming the beginning of next week for

inspection.”

“Why don’t I know anything about it?” I ask, frustration creeping up on me.

“I sent you an email about the bug inspection and the estimate quote yesterday in the afternoon.

I thought you’d reply to me if you weren’t okay with it.”

“I haven’t seen that email, and for the record, don’t just assume I’m okay with anything if I

don’t respond.”

“Okay, lesson learned. What shall I do about the furniture?”

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m going to fall for her trap, but she gives me no choice. “We

don’t have many options, do we?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” I roll my eyes.

“You won’t regret it, I promise. Your office will show every bit of success Edelman

Constructions is having.”

“I hope that.” I toss the phone on the couch and focus my attention back on TV. A small

throbbing at the back of my head is signaling the beginning of a headache, and I’m sure it’s related to

the money I’ve just approved for spending. Fifty thousand dollars for something we already have.

That’s insane.

I start to get up, but the ringing phone stops me. Hoping it’s from Adam this time, I grab it and

yank it to my ear.

“Eh, Taylor. Hope I’m not disturbing.”

“Henry. What’s the matter?” Henry, the head of accounting, has never called me on my cell

phone. He either sends an email or leaves a message with my assistant. Something must be up.

“It’s about the furniture purchase Bree ordered this morning. I just wanted to make sure that

you’re approving the charges.”

My neck muscles are tightening with the thought of the money I’m going to have to say good-

bye to. “Yeah, yeah. I am. Is there anything else?”

“So, you’re okay with the amount?”

“No, I’m not, but approve the charges anyway. If there’s nothing else you want to talk about...”

“Okay, just wanted to double check.”

“I know, and I appreciate you for your meticulousness.”

He politely wishes me a lovely afternoon, which I doubt I’ll have, and leaves me alone with

my growing headache and irritation. I get up and look for a pain killer in the kitchen, before the

headache becomes unbearable, and find a note from Adam on the counter.

“Will be late for the dinner. Don’t skip it just because I won’t be with you. I love you.”

What the hell? Why does he need to leave me a note rather than directly conveying his

message to me on the phone?

I hurry back to the living room to grab my phone and dial Adam’s number. Of course his voice

mail picks up. Shit. The meeting with Chloe Hawkins must be so important that he is ignoring my

phone call. What is this secrecy anyway? Why doesn’t he tell me straight to my face that he’s having a

business meeting with a woman? Does he think I’ll over-react or I’ll react just right?

My chest tightens, and I reach for the orange juice and gulp down mouthful. I shouldn’t doubt

him, I know. He doesn’t deserve it. But, I can’t help it. If I lose him to another woman, that’ll be my

end.

7 – ADAM: Trapped

Taylor and I rent a small beach house across the ocean in San Francisco for a weekend trip to

make the most of Taylor’s ovulation day. It’s not like I need a special setting to be able to have my

wife under me, but she hasn’t been her normal self these last few weeks. And the way she insisted on

having a relaxed weekend without the stress or reminder of her infertility problems really touched my

heart, and I agreed on our little getaway, despite the busy work schedule and the Laker’s game on

Saturday.

I had no idea she was taking my wish to have kids so much to heart. I guess I can’t just keep

my mouth shut when it comes to our future. I wouldn’t utter a word about having kids if I was

absolutely sure she had an untreatable infertility issue. But, she’s a young, healthy woman, not to

mention the advancements in medical technology to tackle this type of issue. And if nothing works,

including the surrogacy option, adoption is always there as a last resort.

However, for now, I’ll make sure to tone down my enthusiasm about my dream family so as

not to give Taylor more stress than she already has.

We fly to San Francisco early in the morning, then drive to the beach house with a rental car.

Taylor looks giddy with her nonstop hand-fidgeting, and I can’t help but wonder what she has in

mind. Some sexy lingerie, another role play, something kinky to try? I’m open to anything, as long as I

hear her moans of pleasure, while I’m spurting my seed deep into her womb.

We stop by a supermarket on the way in order to stock up on food for our stay, then do a short

drive around town to get acquainted with the neighborhood. I don’t miss the only sports bar and make

a mental note to plan a brief escape for an hour or two to catch the Lakers’ game, in case the TV in the

beach house doesn’t have cable. I’m sure Taylor won’t even notice my absence, since she’ll pass out

for several hours after I’m through with her.

After I park the car behind the beach house, and we unload the food into the fridge, we take a

walk on the beach, hand in hand, enjoying the salty ocean air and the musical sounds of the waves.

Taylor’s beauty shines even more in contrast with the blue-green of the ocean, and I consider taking

her here, outside, having the waves as our witness. Possibly in addition to a lot of passers-by. I just

have to content myself with kissing her for now and watching her lose herself in our kiss.

If only she could see the real reason why I want to have kids with her. To have her only for

me and to have an unbreakable bond with her. But, more than that, I want her to experience the beauty

of being a parent, to mother a child. I’m absolutely sure, being such a caring and loving woman,

Taylor is going to make a great mother. And, I want more than the world itself to have kids looking as

beautiful as she does, from the inside and out.

We walk back home in silence and eat our lunch before retiring to the bedroom. She doesn’t

have any surprise for me, just her true love and submission, and that in itself is the hottest thing a

woman can give to a man. We fuck, we have sex, we make love until we can do no more, and she

falls asleep with my sperm drying between her thighs. I can watch the view until the sun goes down.

I kiss her left hand, right above our wedding band, before leaving for the bathroom to have a

quick shower. When I’m done, she’s still sleeping. I leave her a note, telling her that I’ll be back in an

hour, and hop into the rental to drive back to the old town to catch the game.

It’s not one of those busy bars, like the ones I usually go to in LA, when I can convince Taylor

to watch with me. Only two tables are taken, one of them is hosting a family with teenage kids, and

the other a group of six men. I settle at the bar, close to the wide TV screen, and order chicken wings

with beer.

About half an hour into the game, a woman, wearing a bright-red skirt suit, shows up and

slides onto the chair next to mine. She’s blonde with shoulder-length hair, probably in her mid-

twenties. From the whistles of the men, she must have an above-average beauty. However, that

information does nothing to me. Taylor has turned me completely blind to other women. Beautiful or

not, they all look the same to me.

I shift in my seat uncomfortably and awkwardly self-conscious, hoping the girl is here only for

a short time and will leave once she has her order of chicken salad. I take a swig from my beer and

turn my back to her and toward the TV, while she’s chatting with the bartender about her order.

Only a few seconds left for the first half of the game to be over, and the Lakers’ are losing. A

Lakers’ offense player shoots the ball but misses the basket. The referee blows the whistle in synch

with the screams of the men in the bar. I curse under my breath and turn down to my plate. The game

wasn’t worth leaving Taylor alone.

“Adam Garnett,” I hear the girl saying and reflexively turn my head to her. I’m sure I don’t

know her, but she may know me through the conferences I occasionally join.

“Yes, that’s me.” I work at putting on a professional smile, trying to solve the mystery behind

her curiously slow once-over on my torso. “I’m having difficulty remembering whether we’ve met

before. I’m truly sorry if we did.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey. We haven’t been officially introduced, but I know you more than you

can imagine.”

Okay, even if she’s in the construction business or an investor with a large sum of money in

her bank account, I’d rather stay away from her, because her eyes don’t look like they’ll stop roaming

around my body any time soon.

“I was just heading over to the table. Nice meeting you.” I gather my plate and get down from

the stool.

“Not so quick, big boy.” She grabs my elbow and pulls my arm toward herself. “Just take a

look at this before you go.”

I glance down at the phone she shoves in front of me and drop my plate on the bar when I

notice Taylor on the screen. Her mouth is covered with black tape, and her hands are tied with ropes,

while tears rolling down her face. “What the fuck?” I yell, my own hands shaking.

Taylor’s been kidnapped? By this strange woman who literally came out of nowhere? Does

this have anything to do with Valerie?

“I’d keep my voice low if I were you. As you see, she’s not exactly in a safe place, and a

wrong move from you... well, Vladimir, my assistant, will unload the gun in his hand into your little

wife’s head.”

I try to calm myself, although it’s impossible, considering the danger Taylor is in, and sit back

on the stool. “Okay. I’ll do anything. Just leave my wife alone. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“Don’t you worry, darling. I won’t hurt her... as long as you give me what I want.”

“I will. I have a lot of money, if that’s what you are asking.”

“No, no, no, baby. Do I look like I need money? I need something more special than that.” She

stops and gives me another seductive glance. I have a feeling about what she wants, but hope my

senses are fooling me.

“What is it? Please, just don’t hurt her.”

“I want a baby, and you’re going to give me that.”

“A baby?” A baby?

“You heard me right. I’ve been following you for enough time to know you’re intelligent,

compassionate, assertive, and well, handsome, too. And more importantly, you look a lot like my

husband. You see, he wants a child but doesn’t know he’s infertile. I’m gonna need your help to trick

my husband into becoming a father. I want my baby to take after you with all your good qualities and

looks.”

“I... I can’t give you a baby. I’m married.” Besides how does she know that the baby won’t

take after her? A malicious kidnapper? But I’d rather keep that thought to myself in order to

maneuver this delicate matter well.

“Last time I checked, being married doesn’t keep anyone from producing sperm.”

“But...”

She lifts her hand and places a finger on my lips, and I force down the knot of disgust her

touch is forming in my throat. “It will be easy and quick. You and I will spend the next half hour in the

room at the motel down the street, and you’ll have your wife back. You won’t ever see me again. But

if you don’t follow my wish, I won’t hesitate to order my assistant to hurt your wife, and you won’t

have any choice but watch it. Do you understand what I mean with hurt? She’ll wish she died rather

than receiving what Vladimir has in store for her.”

I swallow slowly, her words shooting bullets into my heart. The possibility of having Taylor

hurt? I’d rather walk through fire or run down the cliff than cause her even the slightest pain. But this?

Sharing intimacy with another woman? “I don’t think I can get it up... you know.”

“Let that be my problem.” She sticks out her tongue and licks her lips long enough for me to

realize what she has in mind. Fuck. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

I look down at the phone screen again. The man holding Taylor captive is staring down at her

as if she’s a piece of meat, and I feel my arms hang loose with exhaustion and hopelessness. There’s

nothing to think about. As long as Taylor is safe, I should be able to do whatever this crazy woman is

asking me to do. “You have to promise me she won’t get hurt.”

She nods and lifts the phone to her ear. “Vladimir, you’re not touching her.”

I hear the guy saying “Okay, boss,” before the woman ends the call.

“You can call me Sue,” she says and gives me her hand to shake. I work hard, very hard, not

to show her my disgust while shaking her hand. With the level of revulsion running through my veins,

I’m sure she won’t be able to get any sperm out of my body.

I pay for my meal and follow her out like an obedient puppy, forcing myself not to black

out

with the anger and shock coursing through my body. I want to kick myself in the groin for leaving

Taylor alone in a house in a deserted location. We were supposed to share an intimate weekend just

the two of us, yet a stupid basketball game was more compelling than watching her sound asleep in

the bed.

Sue’s chauffeur opens the door for her and nods at me. Bile rises in my throat at the sight of

her bare thighs as she climbs into the car. She’ll be lucky if I don’t throw up on her barely there skirt,

let alone produce any sperm for her.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it up in these circumstances,” I repeat as I settle in the seat

beside her.

“As I said, ‘let that be my problem.’”

“How about Taylor? Will you order your assistant to hurt her if I can’t?”

She turns to face me, and I notice for the first time the clear blue of her eyes. They remind me

of the only blue eyes I’m capable of adoring. Taylor’s. “Well.” She bites her lips, gazing at my own

lips. “If I don’t succeed at getting you hard and making you come, I’ll accept it as my own failure.

And your wife will be free to go.”

“Okay.” I let out a breath of relief.

“But.” She reaches her index finger up to my lips and runs it down to my chin, throat, and

chest, down to my groin, all the while biting her lower lip. “Take that possibility out of your beautiful

head. I’m exceptional at what I’ll be doing to you.”

It takes an enormous amount of self-control not to yank her hand away. It’s all wrong; me

being cornered by this slut, Taylor at the mercy of a wild beast. Even if she lets Taylor go without

harming her, I’ll make sure to call the police and get her behind bars for the pain she’s inflicting on

Taylor.

The car stops in front of a motel, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Sue gets out. I

should follow her, I know, or the suffering Taylor will have at Vladimir’s hands will be her end. But,

I can’t bring myself even to picture myself alone with a woman other than Taylor. I’m irrevocably in

love with her. So much so that my legs won’t move to follow that fucking cunt into the motel.

She sees my hesitation and opens my door, leaning down to reveal her chest. “All you have to

do is go lie down on the bed. If you can’t manage that much, I’ll just order Vladimir to do whatever

he wants with your wife.” She doesn’t wait for my response, instead straightens up and walks into the

motel.

I rub my hands vigorously over my face, wishing I could just be with Taylor right now. That

gangster would regret the day he came out of his mother’s womb. I’d double him over and make him

swallow his own testicles, while enjoying the crackling sounds his breaking neck is making.

Sue’s chauffer knocks on the window, and I finally find enough courage in me to get out of the

car. I’m doing this for Taylor’s safety. The faster I’m over with it, the sooner Taylor will be free.

Sue is waiting for me in front of the elevator with a key in her hand and steps into the cab

when I arrive. As soon as the doors slide close, her hands roam over my chest through my shirt. I

can’t bear her touches on my chest, how will I stomach it when I have to do the real action?

“Relax. All I want is half an hour. If I’m not done with you after that time, you’re free to go, so

is you wife.”

Her words aren’t exactly calming, but I work hard to appear as if they are and follow her out

of the elevator and into a small room.

“Take your shirt off and lie down on the bed,” she orders and reaches for a drawer. I do as

she says while watching her take out headphones, rope, and a sleep mask. Before I can ask what

she’ll do with them, she grabs my hand and starts tying it with the rope. “We’ll be playing a little

bondage game.”

I try to pull my hand away. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“Does it matter how I’ll get what I want as long as I get it?”

Apparently not, or I wouldn’t be in this situation. She pulls the rope tighter around my wrist

and ties it to the wooden frame of the bed. After repeating the same procedure for my other wrist, she

grabs the headphones, hooks it up with her phone, and plugs them into my ears. Next comes the

sleeping mask, and I’m left with only my senses of touch and smell to know what she’s up to.

Moments pass while I lie still on the bed, waiting for her next move. Then I feel her fingers

draw a trail of circles around my nipples, her tongue sucking each of my breasts. It’s revolting and

painful. Another woman touching me the way only Taylor is allowed to is like stabs at my skin.

However soft or tender the touches might be, they’re going to break me, change me into someone else.

The innocence I have with Taylor will disappear forever.

“Please, don’t do it. I love my wife to death. She’s the only woman for me,” I say through the

loud Beethoven ringing in my ears. “She’ll know what’s going on between you and me. She’ll never

see me as the same person again. This will ruin everything between my wife and me. Please. I’m

begging you, please don’t sabotage my marriage.”

Her hand and lips pause for a moment. I have to take advantage of her hesitation now. “I have

exactly five million dollars in my account. All of it will be yours to the last penny, if you stop right

now and let Taylor and me go.” I pray to god that she’s changing her mind. She has to; otherwise I

don’t know how Taylor will continue loving me. “Nothing will ever be the same again between my

wife and me. I’ll be ruined for her.” And she’ll always see you, the sluttiest bitch that’s shown her

face on earth, whenever we get intimate. If we ever get intimate at all.

My words apparently have no effect whatsoever on Sue, because her hands move down and

she settles between my legs, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. I pull my arms against the rope and

curse loudly when her fingers curl around my cock.

This is it. The end of my innocence. More so because my cock is shamelessly growing in her

hand, with each lick of her wet tongue. As disgusting as it is to my soul, my flesh seems to take an

extra pleasure in the fervent administrations of her tongue and lips. Before I know it, she takes me into

her mouth, so deep that her lips touch the base of my cock. Shit! Taylor can barely pass the head of

my erection and has to work the rest of my shaft with her hands. But this bitch! Clearly she’s an

experienced slut to give head like this, sucking and licking every inch of my erection without gagging.

“Stop it! Please, I’m begging you.” So I won’t have the ultimate regret of enjoying another

woman’s mouth, on top of being raped. My cock vibrates with the hums coming from her throat, and

I guess she’s just laughing at my weakness. She was right about her unbeatable skills of getting my

seeds out of me. Was I a fool thinking I’d never cheat on Taylor, or take a second glance at another

woman. I’m the worst of the men for being so defenseless against a random bitch. Even three rounds

of sex with Taylor only an hour ago won’t stop me coming into Sue’s mouth.

“No, please,” I plead over and over again and notice the tears rolling down my cheeks. I cry

while my cock is having the time of its life. I weep for all the promises I gave to Taylor about my

loyalty and love for her, and my disappointment in myself slowly turns into anger and rage, filling me

to the brim. I start screaming at the top of my lungs, “Stop it right now or I swear to god I’ll come

after you and make you pay for what you’re doing to me.”

A vast amount of pre-come is mixing with her saliva, creating a perfect environment for me to

spurt the boiling sperm inside me. Sue must have felt it, too, because she releases my cock from her

cozy mouth, leaving it throbbing and twitching with need, and moves over my body.

Fuck, it’s coming. The moment of pain and indignity is only seconds away, and I wish nothing

but to slash my cock and balls so I can spare myself the shame of fucking another woman.

I try to think of the day my mother died, how much my entire family suffered after her, Jack’s

funeral, and Taylor’s years-long depression, hoping my cock will deflate. To my absolute surprise, it

does. Only to some degree, though, and gains back its fullness as soon as Sue’s wet pussy walls wrap

around it.

It’s irreversible now. My manhood, which I thought belonged to Taylor permanently, is

twitching inside another woman to the point of no return. And fuck me if I’m not full with the rage of

killing someone. That someone being Sue.

“You disgusting cunt. I swear I’ll make you pay this. You’ll regret touching me.” I use all my

power to pull against the ropes, pushing and shoving my torso to get the fucking slut off of me.

Why did I agree on this? Why didn’t I think of a solution instead of following Sue’s orders

like a mindless airhead?

She’s a woman and obviously strength-wise my inferior. Beating up a woman has never ever

crossed my mind. Even Valerie, after all the things she did to Jack, his parents, and Taylor, wouldn’t

be able to cause me to raise a hand to her. But, Sue. I wouldn’t hesitate a second to beat the fuck out

of her. It’d have been much better for everyone involved if I’d have just done that until she fainted and

then found a way to locate Vladimir before he could hurt Taylor.

However, now I have no way but go through the torture of my life, as my love for and

commitment to Taylor is being demeaned and crashed inside the cunt of a perverted pig of a woman. I

stop struggling and fighting. I can do nothing but surrender and let her ride me as her heart desires. My

tears and sobs are the only proof of the wakefulness of my otherwise still body.

Moments before my eruption, she slows down her marathon ride and leans down on me, her

one hand pressing on my chest, the other pulling away the headphones. Does she want me to hear her

disgusting moans as she climaxes around me?

Her hair causes tingles on my skin, as her lips find my earlobe and begin sucking it. I flinch

and turn away, because I’m afraid she’ll reach for my lips, the only part of me that’s not violated by

her.

Her lips follow a trail toward my mouth, and her hands grab the sleeping mask. What was the

point of putting them on in the first place if she was planning to take them off anyway?

As soon as the sleeping mask comes off, she smashes her lips against mine. My stomach

doesn’t revolt as I expected at feeling those soft, moist lips licking my lower lip gently, almost

lovingly. My cock pulses with desire. I’m almost there, about to explode into another woman, yet it

doesn’t feel as disgusting as it should be.

My eyes, filled with tears, open up but I can’t see much, except for a mass of brown hair

falling all around my face.

Brown hair!

Wasn’t Sue blonde?

I squeeze my eyes tightly to get rid of the tears and open them again.

Her lips leave mine, and she lifts her head a few inches away to give me a better view.

“You?”

“Yes, me.” A heart-melting smile brightens up the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, and I

don’t know whether I should be furious or thankful for the view.

8 – TAYLOR: The grand scheme

The miscarriage took away the little self-confidence I had in myself, in terms of Adam’s love

for me. I could barely function the two weeks following the grand truth that my body wasn’t capable

of carrying the pregnancy to full term. I felt compelled to know if Adam loved me for myself or to pay

back Jack’s generosity to his mother for donating a part of his lungs to her.

If Adam’s reason was a feeling of debt, I was ready to file for divorce so he could find

another woman with whom he could make a family, despite the fact that I had no idea how I would go

on without Adam as the rock of my life.

That’s why I called the phone number on the business card of Loving Wives Inc. I didn’t have

any specific plan about how exactly I could prove Adam’s love for me, but something told me the

lady who answered my call would find a way.

Candice Sherylwood, an elegant brunette in her mid-forties, invited me into her office the

same day of my phone call. She offered classes for anything and everything a woman, married or in a

relationship, would benefit from.

Rekindle and retain passion in long term relationships

How to spice up the bedroom despite the kids

How to identify and eliminate the reasons for low libido

Secrets to give blow job like a professional prostitute

How to lose weight without losing your curves and femininity

Right food to keep your sexual power high

How to choose the right lingerie for your body type

Recipes that will give him an orgasm at the dinner table

Your orgasm will multiply his: How to reach a deep, vaginal orgasm

Child care basics every mother-to-be should know

What to expect when you’re expecting a divorce

Ten basic finance rules that’ll keep you afloat after a divorce

And many more eyebrow-raising classes.

Although my problem wasn’t listed among the items Candice offered help with, after I’d

recited her all my insecurities about Adam, she didn’t even need to scratch her head to find a solution

for me.

I wasn’t entirely spared from taking classes, though. Candace thought I’d benefit from an oral-

sex class, especially after she’d seen the lack of my oral skills when I demonstrated for her on a ten-

inch dildo.

Her plan was simple and direct. She hired two attractive fashion models to trick Adam into

bed. One was a brunette beauty with big boobs and curvy hips, the other a tall blonde. I couldn’t say I

was entirely comfortable with the idea of getting two sexy girls anywhere close to my husband, but I

went with it. It was better that I knew of his tendencies sooner than later.

One of the girls, the brunette, tried to seduce him after faking a flat tire on the route Adam

drove every day to work. I watched Adam stop, change the tire without even giving an extra glance at

the girl, who was wearing no bra or panties under a mini satin dress, and get back into his car,

despite the open invitation of the girl to her home.

I should have stopped there and taken it as proof of Adam’s commitment to me, but I had to be

one hundred percent sure in order to get over my insecurities. Besides, I paid three-thousand dollars,

and I wouldn’t drop the case so easily without full proof.

So, Candice and I sat down to come up with plan B, which was forcing Adam to have sex

with another woman and see his reaction. Obviously, I wouldn’t allow another woman to so much as

touch Adam, but that didn’t mean he had to know that fact.

Everything was set. The second girl, the blonde with the eyes the blue of the oceans, would

make Adam believe I was in danger so he had no way other than to follow her into a motel room, with

the belief that to rescue me he had to have sex with her but, in reality, it would be me.

I absolutely loved every curse and plea that came out of Adam’s mouth on that bed, while he

was wrongly thinking the blonde girl was on him. Even his threats were amusing, although I didn’t

think he was joking. His declaration of love for me, while he was tied down on the bed and his eyes

covered, had to suffice for me to believe I was the only one for him, but I was enjoying myself way

too much to just stop and show him my real face.

Oh, but the tears rolling down his cheeks did it for me, and I couldn’t continue anymore. I

moved up and kissed his lips, savoring every bit of sensation they awakened in me. He kissed me

back, but not because he wanted the other woman. He recognized me. He felt it was me, and not the

blonde girl, enjoying the frantic lust of his sweet lips.

“You?” he says once his eyes find mine.

“Yes, me.” I smile, hardly holding myself from moaning at the twitching of his cock inside me.

As soon as I untie his hands, he shoves me under him and rams his cock so hard and deep inside me

that I find myself screaming. He’s punishing me, and I want nothing other than the release of his fury.

“Jesus, Taylor, I thought everything between us would be over.” His eyes are still wet, and

some of the tears drop onto my face. “How could you do this to me? I hated every second of it.”

“Is that why you’ve gotten rock hard?” I lift my head and stare right into his eyes. I have no

more doubt about his love for me, but I’m dying to hear how he’ll justify his weakness.

“I guess my cock is smarter than I am and recognized your mouth instantly.” He pauses for a

moment, making his cock jerk inside me in such a wicked way that my head drops down on the bed

and my eyes close. “Are you still hot after all that fucking we did at noon?”

“Hmm,” is all I can utter once he starts pumping into me.

“I had no idea you could give head like a pro.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that. Your pussy has just gotten big competition, baby.” He slings my left leg over his

shoulder, dries his eyes, and continuous with his furious thrusts. I love to be able to pull the mad out

of him. He’s cute and fun when he’s calm, but no one can top the sexiness that pours freely out of him

when he’s mad. Like right now. “You’re going to pay for this. You know it, right?”

“Thought I was already paying for it,” I murmur and bite his shoulder. His thick skin is salty

with sweat and makes me want to bite him deeper; marking the skin that I now know for sure is mine.

“Don’t you dare hurt me more than you already did,” he says and explodes his release into me,

causing me to shudder with my own orgasm. He collapses onto me, his arms wrapping tightly around

my body, leaving me no space to breathe. But, I don’t even try to budge him. That’s his way of

showing me how much he must have feared losing me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into his ear and run my hands through the curly strands of his silky hair.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if it was another woman. I can’t lose you, Taylor. I simply

can’t.”

“You won’t lose me.” Unless you want it.

9 – TAYLOR: Wrong man kissed

Sabrina greets me with a shy smile and hands me a folder of documents that are waiting for

my signature. “Bree has just called in sick. She said she broke her leg in an accident yesterday and

won’t be able to work this week and probably next week too.”

“Oh, my god. Are you serious?” I grab my phone and dial Bree’s number. It rings and

immediately goes to the answering machine. I tab no and disconnect. She must be sleeping or in a

hospital. “Did she say where she is?”

Sabrina shakes her head. “She mentioned her sister is with her to help her out.”

“Oh, good. Put her through immediately if she calls again.” My own sister broke her leg last

year, and both my aunt and I took care of her for a while. It’s strange how Bree is going through the

same experience. Why didn’t she call me directly instead of leaving a message with Sabrina?

Bree’s accident hasn’t come at a good time. The next few months will be very busy,

especially after we sign the Berenson contract with Mr. Hawkins; we won’t have time to breathe. If

Bree isn’t able to work after the end of next week, I’ll have to hire a temp.

I settle in front of my computer, take a bite from the chocolate croissant I bought on the way to

work, and start going through the details of the Berenson project. The permits will be tricky, and

we’ll have to find subcontractors other than the ones we usually recruit because of the distance of the

construction site to LA. Adam has already pre-ordered the material, so there shouldn’t be any delay in

the delivery. It looks like Adam’s secret meetings with Chloe Hawkins weren’t all wasteful, and he

managed to convince her to talk her father into making a few tweaks to the apartment designs to

reduce the material costs. I wonder how much of her persuasion was due to his charm and how much

due to his rationale.

Half hour before twelve, I leave my office to freshen up and fix my makeup for the lunch

meeting I’m going to have with a potential subcontractor.

Adam appears in the anteroom, chatting with Sabrina. “Do you have a minute? I have to talk to

you about a pending purchase order.”

“Sure.” I walk back into my office and keep the door open to invite him in. His hands are

balled up into fists at the sides of his torso, and his face looks unusually serious. “Is there a

problem?”

“Yes.” He walks toward me and stops only inches away from me. I notice his Adam’s apple

sliding up and down and his eye twitch. He’s upset at something, and I’m afraid it’s related to a

careless mistake... possibly done by me. “Did you approve the furniture purchase Bree ordered?”

“Oh, that, yeah. I had to. She ordered it without asking me. Canceling it would cost five-

thousand dollars. So I just went with it.”

He throws his head back, breathing through his nostrils. “You approved the transaction of a

ninety-five-thousand-dollar purchase for some shitty furniture on the eve of a major project? We need

every penny to be able to pay for the pre-order deposits.”

“Uh, I guess there’s some kind of a misunderstanding. I agreed on fifty thousand, not ninety

five.” I try to remember the phone call with Bree, when she asked for my approval. She said fifty

thousand, didn’t she? She wouldn’t make a mistake with the numbers, neither would I mishear her.

Henry phoned to follow up, too, though I didn’t really let him speak. Looks like I should have.

“What does that mean? Didn’t you check the purchase order before giving your approval?”

Sounds very silly. Particularly for someone stingy like me. I bite my lip and shake my head in

shame. Ninety-five-thousand dollars? Did Bree change her mind and order something much more

expensive, without informing me about it, let alone asking for my permission? Has our friendship

made me an easygoing boss in her eyes?

“Where is Bree?” An angry smile appears at Adam’s lips. I know better than to be deceived

by it. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to work and won’t forgive or forget, even if it’s his sister or

wife.

“She broke her leg and won’t be in for some time.”

“That can’t be possible.” Producing a phone from the pocket of his jacket, he dials a number,

which I assume Bree’s. More anger spreads across his face. “She’s not answering.”

“The accident happened yesterday. She’s probably in the hospital.”

“Smells fishy to me.”

“So, what are you going to do about the purchase order?” I shouldn’t have to ask him that. I’m

his boss, and if I give my approval on something, it should remain valid. However, the company’s

future is more important than my puffed ego.

“The only thing we can do in these circumstances; I’ll cancel it.”

“How about the ten-percent penalty for cancelation?” Which makes it nine-thousand-and-five-

hundred dollar.

“It must be one percent, not ten. I haven’t heard of any company holding up such a large sum

as penalty.”

How didn’t I know that? The ten-percent forfeit was Bree’s main argument to get my

approval.

“And the penalty will be subtracted from your and Bree’s salaries,” Adam says before

spinning around and strolling to the door. I don’t care if my salary will be less for the next few

months; if anything I deserve it. But that won’t stop the feeling of irritation mixed with disappointment

from nagging at me.

Going to lunch with Paul Decker turns out to be another irritating mistake. Rather than talking

about what he can offer us as a subcontractor, he drags on and on about his success in business and

private life through the lunch. When he finally drives me back to work—I should have never allowed

him to drive me to lunch in the first place—I couldn’t reach for the door handle quickly enough.

“I have to apologize for something,” he says when I just push the door open.

I can’t be rude and ignore his words although it’s my every right. “What is it?” I face him.

“I should have focused on work instead of trying to impress you. This is after all a work

relationship.”

I don’t know how to respond, except for feeling pity for him as he opens those puppy eyes of

his wide in apology. “No big deal.” I wave it off.

“I would really like to take over the project you’re offering.”

“Get in contact with my assistant to schedule another meeting.” The next time, though, I’ll

make sure to have Adam tag along with me. Better yet, Paul should introduce his ideas to the entire

board if he wants a second chance.

“Thank you.” He offers his hand to me, and I smile politely and return the handshake. In the

blink of an eye, he pulls me against him and crushes his lips onto mine. I open my mouth to release the

gag his disgusting lips are causing, but he takes it as an invitation and sticks his tongue into my mouth.

Before I know it, though, he releases me from this stomach-revolting torture. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t

stop myself. You’re so beautiful.”

If the conditions were available, he’d probably fuck me too, just because I’m so beautiful. I’m

fuming with so much rage that I can’t find my tongue to yell at him. With murderous words caged

between my lips, I jump out of the car and shut the door with all my power.

Among all the seven billion people on the planet and twelve million residents in L.A., it has

to be Adam, who stands a few feet from me, staring at me wild-eyed and breathing through his

nostrils. I was introduced to this side of him the first time a little over a year ago, with exactly the

same situation. He doesn’t get jealous attacks like normal people do. He gets outraged, punches the

walls, kicks the couches, throws the computers, or fucks me painfully hard.

“It’s not what you think.” I hear myself drawling the standard line from movies. It’s never

what it looks like.

He doesn’t give me a chance to explain and strides off to the parking lot. I pace after him—not

as fast as him because of my high heels—with the only wish that he’ll just fuck me like the last time.

In the backseat of his car?

The thought of him taking me with all the rage he has now makes me soaking wet. But, I should

focus on an apology before considering any kind of mating. “Adam, wait. He kissed me out of the thin

air. I’d have punched him in the face if I’d seen it coming.”

“Why didn’t you do it, then?” He yells so loud that my ears hurt, even though he’s several feet

away from me. He’s furious with jealousy. Oh, God, the sex will be amazing.

“I was shocked.” It’s the truth, but when it comes out of my mouth it sounds too silly to be

true. I shouldn’t be shocked at a simple thing like a kiss. What will I do if I get robbed, kidnapped, or

raped?

He climbs into his car and starts the engine. When I arrive at the side of the passenger door,

he maneuvers the car out of the parking space and drives out, leaving me gaping after him.

Where is he going? And, where the heck is my jealousy fuck? Since he drove me to work this

morning and has taken off now, I don’t have any ride back home. Or I’d drive right after him.

I call a cab and while waiting for it to come, I call Sabrina to let her know I’m not going back

to work and that she should cancel all my appointments for the afternoon.

The cab drive takes an extremely long time for being two in the afternoon. I shove the driver a

twenty and hurry out. With my knees shaking and my heart hammering, I jump in the elevator. I pray to

have Adam at home while unlocking the door, so we can talk about what just happened. Otherwise the

afternoon will be a torture, knowing he won’t answer me if I call him.

I say my silent thank-you to Heaven, when I find Adam sitting on the couch in the living room.

His hands are firm balls, hidden in his pockets, probably to ensure they can’t punch anything.

For now.

His lips are tight, and his eyebrows are a straight line just above his eyes. He glares at me

with lethal eyes. His phone, resting on the coffee table, beeps and beams with an incoming text or

email, but he doesn’t release me from his murderous look.

“Baby, please,” I begin. “It was a silly mistake.”

“Yet, you seem intent on repeating it. Don’t ever think for a second I’ve forgotten about the

previous one. I don’t want to share you with anyone. Not by mistake or intentionally,” he speaks with

an unbelievably calm voice, considering the level of the anger that must be boiling inside him.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” I move toward him and drop down on my knees between

his legs. I breathe in his after shave and run my hands on his knees toward his hips.

He stands up swiftly, tearing my hands off of him. “I can’t bear your touch right now.”

What? His words pierce through my heart worse than his sudden move. A desperate need to

touch him and reclaim what is mine fills me. “Please, don’t make it more than what it is.” I tilt my

head to glance up at him. “I love you, only you. No man in the world can take your love away from

me.”

Without so much as looking at me, he storms out of the living room and heads over to his

study. I wonder whether he’s actually angry at my mistake over the purchase order and is only

reflecting it onto a stupid kiss. He bangs his office door closed and latches the lock. His rejection

constricts my chest like a corset, and hot tears stream down my cheeks. My head drops on the couch,

and I cry for minutes, maybe hours until he comes out.

He kneels next to me and holds my hand to help me up. “I don’t want you crying,” he whispers

tenderly. “I can’t forgive you so easily, either.”

“You’re the only man for me, Adam,” I say. My voice is hoarse with crying and my throat dry.

“I know. But, you need a lesson so that you won’t repeat such silly mistakes again.”

Your furious face is a lesson. Your rejection is a lesson. I cough to get my voice straight. “A

lesson? What do you mean?”

“I’ll not touch you for an appropriate amount of time.”

“Excuse me? You won’t have sex with me as a punishment?” Where is my ‘I’m angry with

you’ fuck?

He nods and walks toward the kitchen with me behind him. I may be ovulating any day, and

he’s planning to withhold sex? No way! “It’s not right. Pick another punishment. This is too much. For

how long?”

“As long as I deem necessary.” He opens the fridge and takes out chicken and vegetables and

starts to chop them on the cutting board. I’m afraid he’ll cut off a finger what with the anger he’s

holding while handling the food.

“You can’t do that.” I’m already horny. What am I supposed to do to cool off? I come close to

making a silly joke about using another man for my needs. For all I know, he can keep himself from

my touch for an eternity.

“Just watch and see.”

He cooks and we eat in a deadly silence. I think of bringing up the issue with the purchase

order, the Berenson account, Bree’s broken leg. Anything but the rules of his punishment. He might get

too encouraged, take it to the next step, and even separate the bedrooms. I can’t live like that. I need

sex to feel his love for me, and well, also to get pregnant. I don’t want to lose another month due to a

silly game.

I dare to glance up at him and see lust brewing in his eyes. Ahh, why don’t you just take me

right here, you stubborn piece of ass. I shouldn’t be too worried. I’m not the only one with an

insatiable desire. He won’t be able to keep his hands off me for long.

I gather the dishes and place them in the dishwasher, while he drinks his coffee and reads

something on his phone at the table.

“Does your punishment include not talking to me, too?” I ask when I wipe my hands on a

kitchen towel.

He lifts his eyes off the phone and runs them over my chest up to my face, lingering over my

lips. I melt as they finally land on my eyes. His stare is seductive, and tempting, and leaves me

breathless. It’s crystal clear he’ll change his mind very soon. Maybe even in a few minutes?

“I thought you were giving me the cold shoulder,” he replies.

I take slow and steady steps toward him, giving him enough time to study the curves of my

body and my hardened nipples. “How can I ever give you the cold shoulder when I’m constantly hot

for you?” I say when I finally stand beside him and lift my hand to run it through his luscious hair.

“How about now? Are you hot for me now, too?”

I nod and widen my eyes for effect. “Very much. Hot and soaking wet. Want to have a feel of

it?” I grab his hand and pull it under my skirt, between my thighs. His finger slips inside my panties

and slides up and down my wet slick. A feeling of heat flares up inside me when I hear him suck for

air. The punishment will probably be harder on him than me.

“What do you want to do with me?” he asks, locking his eyes on mine.

“First, I’ll lick your cock, until it’s rock hard.” I curve down to run my hands on his thighs and

spread them apart. He pulls his hand away from my panties as I kneel between his legs.

Since the oral sex classes I took at Candice’s company, Adam has become very eager to let

me get a taste of his erection. I sweep up his cock with one long lick through his pants. I know how

much it turns him on, picturing my tongue all around his penis. And, just like I guess, his cock springs

to attention under his pants with that small pressure of my tongue.

“Then?”

“Then, I’ll suck it, until you’re about to come, but—” I say when I unbutton and unzip his pants

and stroke the top of his penis with my fingertips through the opening of his boxers.

He closes his eyes; his penis hardens some more and twitches with my teasing touches.

“There is a ‘but?’” The crack in his voice gives away his weakness. He’s already at my mercy.

I pull his boxers down, revealing all the beauty a hard-on can have. I stroke the shaft with my

cheeks. I love to feel its warm and smooth skin on mine. It smells of soap and his cologne. Spraying

cologne on his groin has become a part of his morning routine. Which goes to show how much he

enjoys a surprise blow job. The class was worth every cent of the three-thousand dollars I paid to

Candice.

I start placing soft kisses on its base, slowly moving upwards, while I massage his balls with

one hand and run my other hand over his six-packs. He’s so hot, my desire to suck him is probably

more than his desire to come. “Then, I’ll pull away, so you can fuck my pussy.”

His posture stiffens with my words. He loves me getting dirty and slutty. I smile to myself

with the knowledge that his stupid game won’t last long.

“How do you want me to fuck your pussy?”

“When I’m on my knees, so I’m all exposed and you can plunge all your length deep inside

me.”

“Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you over and over until your pussy is dripping with my cum.” He

opens his eyes and drops them on mine.

Now it’s my turn to shake with his words. I take a moment to compose myself, before I stick

my tongue out and give his cock a quick lick from the bottom to the top to moist it. Then, I grab his

shaft with both hands and slip the head between my lips, brushing it fervently with my tongue. The

salty taste of his pre-cum spreads all around my mouth. I move my hands lower to take more of him

inside my mouth, all the while my eyes are following his, absorbing the burning desire flashing

through them.

He clutches the sides of my head to direct the head of his cock so it hits deep in my throat. I

focus on my breathing to prevent myself from gagging when he bucks his hips toward my mouth.

His grasp tightens when my tongue puts pressure on the throbbing vein under his shaft. “Uh,

baby,” he moans with need. I squeeze my tongue harder around his swollen head to make him moan

louder. And he does, pleasing me with the subtle trembles that are coming from his voice.

I begin to shudder at the thought of having him primed for me. His thrusts get more urgent and

deeper by the second. I’m torn between having him come in my mouth and pulling off so that he can

load his release into my womb. I want to feel him inside me more than anything, but I know by

experience that he won’t enjoy me pulling off right before his climax.

As if reading my mind, he growls, “Don’t stop.” I can’t let him down when he needs it so

much. I suck him harder, pressing my lips tighter until he shoots a thick load of sperm deep into my

mouth. I swallow some, although most of it drips down. His cock stays inside my mouth until the last

spasm is over.

When I release it, he pulls me up and gently presses me into his chest. I smear his skin with

his own sperm, as I unbutton his shirt and shower his chest with kisses. He won’t be able to give me

the angry fuck I’ve been yearning for, but I won’t complain if I receive a slow love-making session.

“Shall we move on to the bedroom?” I whisper. But first I have to wash my mouth. He doesn’t

like to taste his own sperm on my mouth but gets an extreme pleasure making me taste my juices after

licking me down there.

“What for?” he asks.

“I need to cool down, too,” I answer, shamelessly.

“You’ll have to deal with that on your own. Remember, I’m not touching you for a while.”

“But you just fucked me in the mouth.”

“That was purely for my own pleasure.”

“You’re a fucking ass.” The sperm around my lips is already drying. Moving toward the sink,

I wash my face and mouth.

“Who is really a fucking ass here? If it was me kissing another woman, for whatever reason,

would you still be here under the same roof with me? Would you even allow me to explain what

happened?”

I don’t answer him, because he might be right. I’d most likely drive off to some random town

to be miles away from him, without even calling him to let him know my whereabouts.

“I’m doing this for your own good. For our own good.” I see him coming toward me from the

corner of my eyes. “I know you love me and you’ll never want to cheat on me. But it doesn’t change

the fact that your lips have now been kissed by an additional man.”

All of a sudden, I feel disgusted by my own lips, remembering how Paul Decker managed to

stick his tongue inside my mouth.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, and men will always want to take advantage of you. And

let’s face it; you’re very easy, too.”

I turn around sharply to face him. “Excuse me?” I grimace with anger and pain. How can he

speak to me like that, as though I’m a whore?

“What did it take for that cocksucker to kiss you? He only had to pull your hand to violate

your lips. Just pulling your hand, for God’s sake! Can you imagine what he’d do to you if he caught

you on an isolated street? You wouldn’t even be able to scream for help. You’re that easy,” he says,

his eyes flashing with rage. “So, please understand me if I want to give you a lesson so you can really

learn something from it.”

Unable to hold back the tears welling up, I cover my face with my hands and rush out of the

kitchen to the bedroom and slam the door behind me. He may be right, but why does he have to be so

damn strict about it?

I don’t hear him open the door as I cry on the bed, face down, and shake with surprise when I

feel his hand caressing my hair.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to call you names. I’m just worried about you. You’re my

life. You’re my reason to get up every morning. I can’t bear the idea of you getting hurt.”

I crawl to his lap and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’m an easy woman. I guess

being with you lowered my guard against men.”

“Now it’s my fault that a total stranger showers you with kisses?” he jokes as he leans down

to place a kiss on my head. “Come on, let me take you out. I’m in the mood for a bloody movie. The

bloodier the better.”

I take a quick shower to clean myself from the dirty feeling of being kissed by another man

and to cool down the heat between my legs a bit and put on skinny jeans and a t-shirt.

We go to the movie theater in the Westfield shopping mall, then eat ice-cream, and buy a new

pair of jeans for him. He looks so sexy in them I consider sneaking into the fitting room to corner him

for a quickie there.

The girl at the cash register can’t stop giving him once-overs, making me shake my head in

anger. What would I do if that girl happened to surprise him inside the fitting room and kiss him?

Throw up and run away would be my straight options. Aware of the girl’s hungry look and my

jealousy, Adam grins at me, probably enjoying my jealousy.

When he’s done paying, I throw my arms around his neck and crush my lips over his. He’s

surprised by my move but doesn’t push me away. Is kissing allowed in this punishment of his? I

guess, yes.

When we go back home a little before midnight, Adam collapses onto the bed, leaving me

high and dry to myself. I toss and turn until I fall into an uncomfortable sleep.

When I wake up in the morning, I find Adam already dressed and drinking coffee in the

kitchen. Shit, I missed the chance of attacking him in the shower.

I put on the shortest skirt suit I have, a beige one which is unfortunately barely above the

knees. In the parking lot, he opens the door for me. When he is walking around to the driver’s side, I

pull up the skirt so most of my thighs are revealed. I’m sure he’ll figure out that I purposefully did so,

but so what? It won’t change the fact that he’ll see my thighs and will want to do things to me that’ll

make both of us happy and satisfied.

He arches an eyebrow, snorting, as he opens the car door and is confronted with my bare legs.

“I’m only hoping you’re not going to show them to your employees. That’s the whole purpose of this

abstinence.”

“So,” I say without looking at him. “How long are you planning to continue this?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but as long as I can go, I guess.”

“What does it even mean? If I can seduce you well enough now, will you change your mind

and make love to me? What is the lesson learned in that? That I have an incredible seduction power?”

“You’re right. Let’s decide on a date together. How about a week from today?”

“What? No way. I’m having my period in a week,” I lie. A bit of manipulation won’t hurt.

“That means an additional five days without being touched. It’s too long.” He can’t stay away from

me for so long anyway. I shouldn’t worry too much about it.

“It’s no big deal. A lot of couples go a few weeks without sex.”

“Yeah, couples who are about to file for divorce.”

He guns the engine and turns to me. “You’re exaggerating. Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“Right. Fantasizing about your husband making love to you while trying to sleep is very fun.”

“You fantasized about that?”

I roll my eyes and look away through the windshield. I have to find a way to have sex with

him before my ovulation day is over.

I don’t know how I manage to go through the day at work. I know, actually. Plotting plans

about how I can get Adam to have sex with me. I know a few of his weak spots, so I come up with a

list of tricks I’ll use on him to break down his guard. One week without sex is my ass. He’ll be on his

knees begging for a taste of me in two days tops, once I’m through with my list.

I leave work an hour early to buy lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, the first point on my list. I pick

whatever comes my way without even looking carefully; satin, laced, crocket, transparent, baby doll,

garter belt, slip, red, black, and tan. Since I don’t lose time picking the entire shopping trip, which

cost a thousand dollars, takes me about twenty minutes and leaves me plenty of time at home before

Adam arrives.

I quickly pick a white apron, which is semi-transparent everywhere except for the bra part,

and put it on. The apron comes with a thong, but I stash it back into the bag with the other lingerie. If

I’m seducing him, I might as well seduce him to cardiac arrest. After putting on blood-red lip stick

and a brief brushing of my hair, I’m ready to cook the dinner of his life.

I hear the front door latch just as I open the fridge door. I stoop without kneeing to get some

vegetables at the lowest shelf and give him the full view of my buttocks.

“Well, hello, there,” I hear him say and chuckle.

Straightening up, I wave at him and let him drink in my apron and what it’s not covering.

He pulls out a chair and throws himself on it. “I thought you’d be more creative than this?

Giving me a show in transparent lingerie? I mean, come on.”

“Not creative enough? Any man with a fully-functional penis would drop down to his knees,

seeing this kind of lingerie on a woman.”

He laughs heartily, shading his eyes with his hand. Oh, he’s so sexy while laughing. “I’m not

saying anything to that.”

“Fine. Don’t speak. Just watch me while I cook dinner.”

He stands and comes next to me, sending my heart racing with each step he takes toward me,

and my nipples immediately perk up at attention. Too bad he’s not looking in their direction.

“The menu for today is beef stew.” He opens the fridge and takes out a bag of veggies,

potatoes, and a big piece of beef shoulder. “Here is all the food you need for the stew.”

I place the potatoes and vegetables in the sink to wash, then set about skinning them.

“You’re cutting too deep,” he complains when I start to peel the potatoes. I ignore him and go

on with the potato-cutting torture. He shakes his head constantly, until I’m done with the six huge

potatoes. Who eats so many potatoes, anyway? He complains about my peeling skills, or the lack

thereof, when I peel the carrots, tomatoes, and zucchinis, as well. Why the hell do we have only

veggies with peels? It gets worse, when I face the challenge of chopping the beef shoulder. I’m not

even sure whether I need to cut it into pieces or just shove the entire thing into a pot. That is, if I can

find a pot large enough for that huge piece of meat. From the size of it, it looks like we’ll feed an

entire army.

When I try to cut it into pieces, Adam pushes me to the side with his hip and orders me to put

the knife on the counter.

“If you cut yourself, I’m gonna be the one who will have to explain how you injured yourself

in that revealing apron of yours. And I’d rather not do that.”

He grabs a larger knife and begins to chop the meat. I have to admit the way his hands handle

that size of meat with ease is very hot and fills me with lust and heat in my nearly non-existent piece

of clothing. He’s actually sexier in the kitchen cooking fully clothed than I’ll ever be, be it with

Victoria’s Secret’s help or totally naked. I’m not sure whether I should be happy for having him as my

husband or disappointed at not being the desired one in our relationship.

“Your cooking skills are so poor I don’t know why I even married you in the first place,” he

says and winks. I know he’s joking. He never ever makes fun of my inabilities in a serious way.

“Let me remind you of a woman in your family who cooks professionally,” I say, referring to

Adriana, his older sister, who hates me because she thinks I stole Adam from Pat. “I think you’ll

agree with me when I say I have a sexier husband than hers ever will be.” Actually I’ve had two very

sexy husbands, but I don’t need to delve deeply into my past with Jack.

“My ever-loving wife. Never neglects to praise me even while throwing mud at my family.”

I laugh as I go to the bedroom to change into a sweatshirt and sweatpants for eating, half

disappointed at my failure in spite of spending bags of money on lingerie. When I go back to the

kitchen and sit on the chair at the breakfast island, Adam moves toward me and leans in. I watch him

in awe as he brushes his lips on mine.

“You’re so much sexier in sweatpants than expensive lingerie.” He descends to kiss me once

more, this time parting my lips to get a taste of my tongue before going back to cooking.

I feel like bursting into tears with his tenderness. I love him so much. Why can’t I have him as

my heart desires? And my ovulation date is so close.

“Don’t be sad, baby. Think of this as if you’re having your period. I have to keep my hands off

of you for five days a month. Sometimes six. That’s not piece of cake.”

I walk over to him, hug him from behind, and rest my head on his back, while he moves

around slowly, chopping, seasoning, and tasting the food. Whatever games he wants to play, he’s

mine, and he actually does it for my wellbeing.

“I love you.” I kiss my favorite spot between his shoulder blades over his shirt.

“I love you, too, more than you can ever imagine,” he says and squeezes my hand.

After the dinner, he retreats to his study for a while, and then goes out jogging. For two long

hours. I can see he’s trying to exhaust himself to half-death so he won’t have any energy for me.

Damn, he’s good at this game.

When it gets close to the time to go to bed, the naughty in me wakes up again, and I get to the

second point on my list. While he’s preparing for sleep, I turn on my I-Pad and find the one and only

video record of us having sex together, where Valerie, Jack’s crazy half-sister, recorded while Adam

was taking me from behind in a storage room of a movie theater. It was our second time having sex

and first time in public.

Although watching it makes me want to puke because of the bad memories associated with it,

it is Adam’s favorite video of all times. I consider putting it on the large TV screen, but it would be

kind of rubbing it in his face. Sometimes, subtler is better. So I make it ready to go and press ‘play’ as

soon as Adam appears at the doorway.

The volume is on the highest, so my moans of the video fill the room instantly.

“You saucy little cunt, tell me how much you want me to fuck you.”

“Oh, no, you’re not gonna pull that trick on me,” he says, shaking his head.

“I’m feeling a little nostalgic for the days you were begging me for sex.”

“Baby, I can’t watch that video without fucking you thoroughly afterwards. Stop it so we can

sleep.” He’s begging me all right, but for something else.

I turn the screen toward him. He watches it until the end, his gaze fixed, his body frozen like a

sculpture. I can see his cock hardening beneath his boxer briefs. I had no idea this disgusting video

was his kryptonite. When the video ends, I put it to replay and start to strip off my clothes ever so

slowly. He looks torn between watching the video and me getting naked. At least he’s not leaving the

bedroom.

When I’m fully nude, except for my white, cotton panties, I start to walk toward him, taking

one slow step at a time so as not to scare my prey away. He’s aware of what I’m about to do but can’t

move.

My heartbeat quickens when I stand in front of him, inhaling his natural manly smell that I

love, one without any cologne or aftershave, and run a finger across his chest. I’m breathing heavily,

so is he. I lean in and brush his chest with my lips. My longing for him is so deep that it feels like

years have passed since we last had sex, although it was only yesterday morning.

“I love you, Adam,” I say, knowing he loves hearing his name from my lips as an assurance

that it’s him that I love and not Jack. “I fell in love with you long before that video was recorded.”

“Yeah?” He raises both of his eyebrows and presses his lips together to stop a smile. He’s

going to enjoy hearing this. “How long before?”

My tongue lingers around his firm pectorals for a while before I suck a nipple really gently.

He tastes delicious. I want to taste him all over and have him taste me, too.

“How long before?” he repeats and I realize I’ve been lost in the sensation of his body. I let

his nipple free and run my hands around his chest, over his scar, down his washboard abs, until they

reach the border of his boxer. Slowly, I slip a finger underneath.

His eyelids fall shut as my finger explores around his cock, then he repeats his question. He

opens his eyes and I look up at him under my eyelashes, smiling, and shake my head. “I won’t answer

that until you give me what I want.”

He shakes his head no.

“And you’ll get some bonus information, too, if you make love to me now.”

“What kind of information?”

“You assume that Jack is the only man who kissed me before you, right?”

“Assume? Isn’t it so?”

“Nope.”

He widens his eyes; the playfulness of his expression disappears.

“How many?” he asks, but I’m not sure whether he’s asking how many men kissed me or had

sex with me. Knowing his utter jealousy, I’m sure he’ll care for both.

I ignore his question. “Actually, it’s quite an interesting story which involves a hot guitarist,

me, and the prom night.”

His face darkens now, although his penis is still hard against my palm. Under normal

circumstances, I steer clear talking about men hitting on me to not irritate him. For a good reason. He

gets extremely worked up, even when he notices a man just staring at me. I should know better; that’s

the very reason why I have to plot ways to get him to the bed with me.

“Tell me.” He grabs my arms, but not tightly enough to hurt me. “It’ll keep me up all night if

you don’t tell me.”

“Good, we’ll both stay up all night if you don’t make love to me,” I say with all my

seriousness. I know I’m hurting him by keeping him in the dark about my past with men, and he’ll

most likely not be able to sleep as he claimed. But his game is hurting me, too. I move closer to him,

until my nipples touch his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and rub myself slowly on his skin,

gasping in pleasure with our skin contact. Shivers wrack my body, causing goose bumps on the parts

that are touching his skin.

Will there ever come a time when touching his naked body won’t give me shivers? Not likely.

He’s not moving, just eyeing me carefully and probably trying to decide what is more

important; the game or my past. I want to help him chose me, so I step on my toes to reach his lips.

He cups my cheeks with his hands before I can kiss him. “That means I’m not the second one

kissing these?” he asks, brushing his thumb across my lips, and slips it between my teeth.

Why does it matter so much if he’s the second or the fifth or the hundredth? He’s had his fair

share of women in the past, and I’m not complaining about it. I’m not a slut. Neither is he to kiss or

have sex with the first person who comes his way. Whatever kisses we gave to others were because

we thought maybe it would develop into a serious relationship. So, why does the thought of me

kissing some teenager a decade ago bother him to death?

“No, you’re not the second,” I say, disappointed that he’s still insisting. I realize my trick is

backfiring. Rather than convincing him to sleep with me, I’m beginning to feel I’m not interested in

sex anymore. He’s dropped the subject about the time I fell in love with him all together, while the

number of boys in my past is so important to him that he won’t sleep for pondering about them. “You

know what? I’m very tired. I’m going to bed now.” I turn around, releasing myself from his hands, and

stride to the bed.

“Baby, are you upset?” He follows me to the bed.

I don’t have to say it aloud to let him know how I feel. I put on my sweatshirt and slip under

the blanket. Spooning me from behind, he kisses my ear. His erection is hard on my buttocks, but I

couldn’t care less about it.

“Don’t be mad at me because I’m a jealous man,” he says in a low, sultry voice. “I’m curious

about everything you do. If my heart was strong enough, I’d ask about the details of your relationship

with Jack, but I’m positive I won’t get past it without a heart attack. And you told me already you

were a virgin when you did it with Jack, so I know you were innocent before him. But it’s your lips

we’re talking about. My favorite part of your body. I want to know who else kissed them, and I

promise I won’t kill whoever he is.”

I let out a long breath. Whatever annoying thing he’s doing, he’s doing it out of passionate,

desperate, and intense love for me. I can’t be mad at him for long.

“I won’t tell you his name.” I roll on my back and wrap an arm around his neck. “He was my

second best friend after my cousin in high school and took me to the prom as my date. While we were

dancing, he asked me whether he could kiss me.” Adam’s grip tightens. I chuckle as I rub his shoulder

and continue, “’He said, ‘If I kiss you and don’t feel anything, I’m officially a gay.’ I was already

suspecting he was tending more toward boys. So I let him.” I tilt my head to see the lines on Adam’s

face softening.

“Did it take him that long to recognize his sexual tendencies? I think he was just trying to come

up with a valid reason to kiss you.”

I slap his chest. “Some people don’t realize it until they’re well into their adulthood.”

“So, was he gay or not?”

“After the kiss he said it felt like he was kissing his arm.”

“And here I always thought you have the beauty to turn a gay to straight.”

“One day you’ll wake up and realize I’m not as pretty as you make of me. I’m dreading that

moment,” I say.

“That’s one thing I can promise you right away. Such a moment will never come. Ever.”

For an instant, I remain silent and watch his face, waiting for him to bring up the other

question. He strokes my hair and my cheek. His penis is still hard, but not as much. And I think, if I

don’t do anything about it, it’ll deflate all the way down in a few minutes.

Finally, when minutes pass and Adam doesn’t inquire about it, I frown and ask, “Don’t you

care about the time I fell in love with you?”

“Of course I do, baby. But don’t tell it to me just yet. Keep it for my birthday. And don’t buy

me any present. It’ll be your present for me.” With that, he kisses my forehead and rolls to his side of

the bed to turn off the lights. I hug him from behind, rest my head between his shoulders blades, and

fall into a deep sleep, hoping the game will come to an end tomorrow.

The next day, I wake up with a slight headache and find a note from Adam. It says he’ll spend

the entire day at the construction site. I put on a t-shirt and shorts, brush my hair, and head to the

kitchen for a hearty breakfast. I fix myself eggs with bacon and orange juice for breakfast, and call

Sabrina to let her know that I’ll be working from home today.

I tab on the calendar of my phone and start calculating my ovulation day. I still haven’t had a

period after the miscarriage, and that was forty five days ago. It’s normal, according to Dr. Fowler,

since my hormones might need time to get back to their normal levels before the pregnancy. She also

told me to steer clear of any unprotected sex to give it at least three months for my body to recover.

I’ve read enough articles and blogs online to know that my chances of getting pregnant must be higher

now that my body has just managed to conceive.

One of the websites I frequent points out low weight as one of the reasons for infertility

problems. I take each word of that article to heart and fill my stomach to the brim during each meal,

even if I have no appetite. My new attitude toward food amuses Adam to the extreme and gives him

more motivation to cook more and different meals.

While nibbling on the eggs, I scan through the blogs of women who had fertility issues but

succeeded in having children. I’m well aware of the fact that the Internet has become some kind of an

obsession for me, but it’ll all end once I have my baby in my arms.

I blow off work the entire morning and afternoon while focusing solely on the fertility blogs. I

only tear my eyes away to read the text that’s beeping on my phone.

It’s from Adam. “Baby, I’m still in awe for your surprises last night. My c. gets painfully

hard every time I think about them. I can’t wait for the day to finally f. you.”

I reply without any pondering. “You don’t need to wait. Just come over and f. me now. My p.

is too wet to wait any longer.”

Adam: “The fun is just starting. Can’t wait for your next surprise.”

Me: “If my husband wants a surprise, he gets his surprise. I’m not like some jerk who holds

off pleasure from his spouse.”

Adam: “Ouch. BTW, we’re going out for dinner with Aunt Stella and Uncle Gregorio. I’ll

pick you up at six thirty. I love you.”

Me: “I love you too, but in the last two days I realized I love your c. better. XOXO to my

real love.”

Adam: “Double ouch. Your real love won’t cool off until your real kisses replace the

digital ones.”

I grin and drop the phone on the table to get ready for the dinner. It’s been ages since I have

met with the Beckmans. Since our wedding actually. The dinner with them will be a good distraction,

yet I should be prepared for my next move. There are only so many things I can do in public.

For a change, I pick a violet, knee-length dress that’s more on the modest side. That won’t be

the kind of surprise Adam is expecting to see. I let my hair down. It’s reaching to my waist now,

covering me like a thick shawl.

My phone beeps again with a text from Adam announcing his arrival. Tossing the phone into

my purse, I leave and find him in his car in front of the apartment building. He levels his eyebrows as

he sweeps his eyes up and down on me.

“Is there something you don’t like?” I ask.

“Something I don’t like? You’re so sexy even when you aren’t showing much.” He leans

toward me to give me a kiss in the mouth. I pull back before he can have his fill of my lips, and he

narrows his eyes questioningly. “I have this sneaking suspicion that you’re up to something.”

“Wouldn’t you love that?”

He grins and turns back to the wheel. We drive to a lovely Spanish restaurant in Sherman

Oaks and meet Stella and Gregorio at the parking lot. Stella is Adam’s Godmother and his late

mother’s best friend. She’s a petite, round woman with long, grey hair. Her husband, Gregorio, on the

other hand, is almost as tall as Adam and sports pitch-black hair, which I have no doubt is thanks to

some expensive hair dyes. However their discrepancies end there. Both are witty, generous, and

warm-hearted people, and from what Adam told me, are borderline workaholics. What had started as

a humble winery at the outskirts of Santa Barbara three decades ago turned into a five-star luxurious

hotel and keeps the two busy enough to have only a limited amount of time for friends and family.

“The dinner is our treat. Please, don’t shy away from ordering whatever your appetite

desires,” Stella chirps as she hugs me, then Adam.

“You shouldn’t have said that. Taylor’s appetite is large enough to break your bank account.

Just giving you heads up.”

“Hey.” I punch him on the shoulder. “It’s not... I’m not.”

“As long as she keeps her figure, she can order the entire menu, for all I care.” Stella

examines me up and down, and I’m not sure whether she’s giving her okay for my looks.

Adam grabs my hips from behind, as we walk into the restaurant and pushes his crotch against

my buttocks. “I don’t know whether it’s the skirt or your ass is getting bigger, but I’m dying to pin you

against the wall and take you from behind.”

I come to a halt to compose myself, because his words make my knees go weak, and then grab

his hand as a support while we follow the server to our table.

“Honey, look, they have octopus. Want to give it a try?” Gregorio asks Stella, when we settle

on a table beside the tall windows.

I feel my stomach twist as I glance at the menu for the octopus dish. Barely holding myself

from wincing, I turn to Adam. He’s staring down at me with smoldering eyes. His mind is always

there. So is mine, to be honest. But, he’s not the one being deprived of intimacy. Shaking my head, I

gently elbow his ribs and scan the menu for more edible food.

As expected, Gregorio starts a long conversation with the sommelier and orders a different

wine for each of the four courses we’re going to be served. I sip only a little from the red wine, since

its taste is a bit too fruity for my palate and dig into the cheese platter, while Adam and Gregorio

discuss the recent and upcoming basketball games.

“Is there a specific reason why you’re taking it easy on alcohol tonight?” Stella asks, making

me choke on the Manchego cheese.

“No specific reason, except I’m the designated driver to get us back home.” I add a smile to

divert her attention from possibly dangerous waters.

But, I guess my tactic doesn’t pay off, because she leans over the table and takes a quick look

at Adam’s side before asking me, “No plans to put a bun in the oven, yet?”

I swallow and turn toward Adam for help, but he’s too deep into the conversation with

Gregorio.

“Well, we haven’t seriously started trying yet,” I repeat Adam’s words. Particularly true for

these days that he’s keeping his sperm everywhere but in my womb.

“Don’t be nervous about the possible problems of being a parent. Adam is such a sweetheart.

He’ll take care of you no matter what. All his sisters adore him, especially the twins. He practically

raised them while he was a boy himself.”

I nod, smiling, and work hard not to let my eyes moisten with flooding emotions. “I know.” I

reach for Adam’s hand under the table and give it a swift squeeze.

He turns to look at me then at Stella. “What are you two gossiping about?”

“That you should come and visit us in Santa Barbara,” Stella replies. “We’ll keep the

honeymoon suite free for you.”

“We can’t accept that.” I shake my head. “Not unless we pay for it.” I wonder how much a

night costs. A couple of thousand for sure. A romantic hotel out in nature, surrounded by grapevines

and fruit trees. I wouldn’t blink an eye at renting the suite for a week if I knew Adam’s sperm would

magically impregnate me there. Before considering spending that amount of money, though, I should

get Adam to start having sex with me in conventional settings.

Two servers bring our entrée plates and Stella, Gregorio, and Adam fall into a deep

conversation about Adam’s mother. His eyes brighten and his features soften as he listens to stories

about his mother’s youth. I wish she was alive, and I wish she could have the happiness of getting to

know Adam’s babies. The babies he’ll have with me.

The night proceeds, so does my arousal. I cross and uncross my legs to cool off, but nothing

helps.

At one point Stella excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and Gregorio’s phone rings, giving

me the perfect opportunity to make my move. I drop my right hand on my knees under the table cloth

and pull my skirt up until I can reach my panties. Then slowly, I slip my index finger between my legs

and inside me. The touch, though from my own finger, sends shivers through my body. Which goes to

show how desperately I need to have sex. I swirl the finger around the walls, enjoying every bit of

pressure, then pull it out.

Gregorio is still busy on the phone and drops a piece of tomato in his mouth, sending a wink

to my direction. I smile, taking a piece of my desert with my hand, and bring it to Adam’s mouth.

“This desert is mouthwatering. You have to try it,” I say casually. When Gregorio’s eyes go

back to wandering around the restaurant, I run my index finger, which is wet with my juices, under

Adam’s nose and immediately stick it into his mouth. Adam’s arched eyebrows and wide-opened

eyes tell me he’s recognized my unique smell and taste; one that he hasn’t enjoyed for a while. I shove

the piece of desert into Adam’s mouth as Gregorio finishes the phone call.

Looking down at my skirt, Adam chews the desert cautiously. I’ve got his attention, and I can

tell by the look of intense focus on his face, he won’t be able to carry on a conversation with anyone.

Gregorio excuses us and leaves the table to make another phone call.

Under Adam’s curious eyes, I slide the same hand down the table again and slip my finger

inside me. With my other hand, I shove the table cloth aside and roll my skirt up to give him a view of

my little performance.

His beautiful hazel eyes, now dark with lust, scan the nearby tables for unwanted onlookers,

then turns to where the action is. “Fuck, baby,” he hums.

I swallow hard at the needy tone in his voice and press the finger inside me on the sensitive

spot that has been aching to be touched for too long. To get him heated, I sway my hips and move my

legs, while I casually put my other hand on his thigh. He pulls the table cloth over my hand and

presses my palm against his hard-on. He’s heated all right. I spot Stella talking to one of the

waitresses and quickly work toward a climax.

“Don’t.” Adam’s hands grab mine, freezing me in my seat. “Don’t finish yourself off. I want to

do it at home.”

My insides are coiling with desire, and I’m just a thrust away from a long-needed orgasm, but

his offer sounds interesting enough to delay my gratification. I inhale deeply to compose myself, pull

my hand, and let Adam lick the juices off my finger. Which he does a little too eagerly.

When both Stella and Gregorio are back at the table, Adam feigns a headache and promises to

visit them in the upcoming weeks.

“The bun seems to be too eager to enter the oven,” Stella whispers to my ear as she hugs me,

then winks at me knowingly.

Adam drives us home in record time and cups my face with both hands in the elevator and

captures my lips with a passionate kiss. Had I known touching myself in public would turn him on

like this, I’d have tried it much earlier. I roam my hands over his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his

chest flex and shift, as his hands move down and grope my buttocks, pushing my hips against his

erection. I moan at the sensation his lips are causing on my skin while they journey down to my throat.

We practically run to our condo as soon as the elevator doors slide open.

Kicking the front door behind us, we smash our bodies together and start peeling our clothes

from each other on the way to our bedroom. I jump, wrap my legs around his hips, and begin rubbing

my already wet sex against his manhood. I can come like this, but I try to divert my thoughts to keep

myself for the real pleasure of having him inside me.

At last.

He throws me to the bed, pins my hands above my head, and starts tying them with a ribbon

he’s pulled out of the drawer. Not to be able to touch him will be torture, but as long as I have him

inside me, I don’t care about the details.

“You’re so hot you’re burning me,” he whispers as he positions me toward the headboard and

ties the ribbon to the irons of it.

“I’m hot only for you. Put out my fire with your cock.” I buck my hips toward him with the

desperate need to be touched down there.

His hands move down, spread my legs apart, and tie each of them to the corner of the bed with

another ribbon so I’m fully exposed and unable to move. With his eyes locked on my slit, he sits

between my thighs. “I want you so badly, I can’t think of anything else. You’ve turned me into a sex

fiend. I want to fuck the living life out of you.”

I moan at his words, shouting out his name. I know it drives him crazy. I want him crazy so he

can just screw me senseless.

He runs a finger along my wet folds and lifts it to his lips to lick it. “You taste so good, I want

to eat nothing but you until the sun goes up.” His other hand is now holding his cock and starts rubbing

it.

Why is he taking so long to plunge it into me? “Baby, give it to me,” I beg.

“I want your breasts.” He crawls up to put his legs astride me, lays his cock between my

breasts, and pushes them up with his hands so they’re hugging his cock tightly. Slowly he begins

rocking his hips back and forth, breathing heavily above me.

The pleasure that hits me with the touch of his throbbing cock on my skin is so intense that it’s

becoming painful. I have to keep calm and breathe to survive the next minutes.

“Baby, I need you down there. Hurry.” I move and try to squeeze my thighs together to satiate

my need even for a little bit, but the ribbons are too tight to move my legs. I feel his cock pulsate

between my breasts and soon, his dripping arousal starts lubricating my skin and I’m afraid he’s about

to come.

Is he pulling the same trick on me? Fucking me without actually fucking me?

“Adam, hurry down,” I scream from the top of my lungs.

He slows down his pace and leans down to whisper, “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not

screwing your pussy tonight.”

“No, no, no, no.” He can’t do this to me again. How could I fall for this game again?

I move around with all my strength to shove him off of me. If he’s not giving me what I need, I

shouldn’t care about his needs, either. But his legs are so painfully firm around me that he won’t even

budge. He keeps thrusting his cock hard and fast between my breasts, riding me like a horse. Very

soon, his warm sperm shoots over my throat and face.

His chest heaving laboriously up and down, he smears the sticky liquid over my breasts and

says, “Mine, mine, mine,” with each caress.

This would have been an unforgettably sexy moment if I’d reached orgasm with him. I love

how he marks me with his sperm. But here I am, so horny with desire that even a stroke can finish me

off and he, as always, only cares about his needs.

I hate every minute of it.

“I hate you,” I yell, when he lifts his legs off me and rolls next to me. “You’re the most selfish

person I’ve ever known.”

“Hush, baby, or I may keep you tied up all night long and screw your breasts two more times

just to show you how much more selfish I can be.” He slips a hand beneath my waist and hugs me.

So far, each move I’d made to get him to make love to me ended up with him getting all the

pleasure, and leaving me just as high and dry, with more desire than ever. Perhaps, I should just drop

this nonsense altogether and buy a dildo. I sure won’t be the first married woman who keeps a dildo

close at hand.

***

Bored and tired of doing nothing for several days, I grab my iPad and settle on the couch. A

good mystery book, possibly full of misery and pain, might distract me from my own problems. A

beep startles me, and I look up to see Adam’s phone on the coffee table. He normally takes it

everywhere he goes, even jogging. Wondering why he didn’t take it this time, I lean forward to see

who the message is from.

An unknown number that is not registered to the phone book. My curiosity peaks and I grab it

to read the message.

The phone slips from my hand with shock when I read the message.

“I’ll meet you at the hotel. I can’t wait to have your hard arousal in my mouth and my

pussy. Your wanton girl.”

I stay still, paralyzed for a moment, taking my time to digest the message. It must be a wrong

number, even a joke. Adam would never cheat on me. He passed the hardest test that every other man

on earth would fail. There’s no way this message is addressed to Adam.

I scroll down his inbox and scan through the messages. Nothing extraordinary and mostly

work-related email exchanges. I should stop it right now and leave his phone alone. But I can’t. I’m a

sucker for pain, obviously. So I run a search for the number and wait anxiously for the results. Around

fifty messages pop up on the small screen of the phone, signaling the secret folder the messages are

kept in.

I can’t describe the rush of the feelings coursing through my body, as I go through the

messages one by one, reading each and every erotic line the girl wrote to Adam and Adam wrote to

her. I’ve never felt such strong rage, despair, and pain fuming in me all at the same time, as I do right

now.

All those promises he made about how he loved me and wanted me, and only me, were

nothing but a big, fat lie. Every day and night, every time our eyes met in a special connection, he’d

utter those empty promises and I believed them.

Every single one of them. I trusted him with all my heart. What a fool I’ve been. How could I

not see through him? How could I believe he’d change for me and become a loyal husband? He

dumped his girlfriend of four years, and ran after me to fuck the living hell out of me, just to move on

to his next target.

My chest pounds with pain at thinking how I could give him my heart, which should have

belonged to Jack only.

Oh, Jack, what kind of horrible man did you bring into my life?

Throwing the phone on the couch, I scream at the top of my lungs, despite the growing pain in

my throat. I deserve that pain and more for allowing a man-whore into my life, willingly letting him

own me.

What am I going to do now? I’m not only married to a liar and cheater, he owns a part of my

company, too. Which means I’ll not be able to avoid him altogether even if I divorce him right away.

To top that off, he can claim half of my assets during the divorce since we didn’t sign a prenup. I must

find a way to coax him into divorcing me and selling me his part of the company without demanding

anything else from me. But, how am I going to get him to do that?

I look at his phone on the couch. I may have a chance if I manage to catch him in action with

his girlfriend, and snap a picture or record a video of them together. With a good attorney, I can even

sue him for fraud and get our marriage annulled.

Grabbing the phone, I rush to the bedroom. The sight of the bed, on which I let Adam fuck me

hundreds of times, sends my stomach curling into a heavy ball. I run to the bathroom to throw up

whatever I ate during the day. I’m going to need a lot of puking and crying to get Adam out of my

system.

After washing my mouth and face and quickly changing into jeans, I hurry out to the elevator

and down to the parking lot. As I start the engine, I access our joint bank account by the phone to

locate the hotel he’s staying in. I nearly jump in my seat when I find the credit-card payments made to

a hotel only a few blocks away from our condo.

I arrive at the hotel in less than two minutes and check the sidewalk for Adam or for an

attractive woman—slut actually— before leaving the car. When I make sure no one is around, I go

directly to reception.

A middle-aged, Asian woman is sitting behind the front desk. “Welcome, Ma’am. What can I

do for you?”

“My husband is staying at this hotel, but I forgot his room number, and he’s not answering the

phone. Can you tell me which room he’s staying in? His name is Adam Garnett.”

“May I see a photo ID?”

I give her my driver’s license. She examines it carefully and hands it back to me. “He’s

staying in room number one; right here, the first door in the corridor. But I’m gonna need to

accompany you for safety reasons.”

She takes a key card and walks toward the rooms, and I follow suit. I’m so anxious and

nervous that I’m about to pass out before reaching the door. She knocks on the door first, and when no

one answers, she slides the card and opens the door. The room is dark and smells of shampoo. A

second later, the bathroom door opens, and Adam appears behind it, his face blank with shock.

“Is she your wife?” the receptionist asks. As soon as Adam nods, she closes the door and

leaves us alone.

Once I gather my composure, I storm to the bathroom. I’m sure the whore is hiding there,

freshly fucked. A new surge of vomit is forcing its way out. I gulp down to stop the urge and push the

shower curtains aside.

“Where is she?” I yell as I go back to the room. The bed is unmade. I check all around the

room, the closet, and under the bed against the possibility of that bitch hiding.

“Who are you talking about?”

When I can’t locate her, I move toward Adam. I’ve never felt anger against someone so badly.

I want to hurt him. I want to stab him in the heart so that he can feel how my own heart is aching.

“Where is the fucking whore? Where is the woman you’re cheating on me with?” I shout and

throw a punch at his chest.

He stumbles back but doesn’t stop me from punching him further until I corner him at the table

behind him. “There is no one here. I’m alone, and I’m definitely not cheating on you.” There’s terror

in his face. Good.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re cheating. Why are you doing this to me? I loved you. I

believed you. What did you want from me? You’re not even one tenth of the man Jack was. You may

not love me, but don’t you even have respect for the man who gave your mother five more years of

life? Are you such a monster?” My words are mixed with tears and sobs; my hands trembling with

fury and the pain of hitting him.

“I swear I’m not cheating on you. How can you think that? I love you.”

“Save your lies for your whore. You even pulled a dumb game on me to keep all your fucks

for your whore. Do you hate me that much?” I continue punching his chest, slapping his face, and

kicking his legs until I can’t do anymore. Then, breathless and sweaty, I sink onto the bed.

“Tell me what is going on. Why do you think I’m cheating on you?” His voice is low, almost

inaudible. He stands in place without moving. I’m glad he’s that scared of me. He’ll be terrified, once

he sees what I’m capable of doing after we’re done with the divorce.

I find enough energy inside me to make me smirk, draw his phone from my purse, and throw it

at his face.

“I read your whore’s messages. She said she’s meeting you here. She must be arriving here

any moment. Don’t try to text her to stop her from coming.”

He takes cautious steps toward the bed and sits next to me, showing me the screen of the

phone. “Look, I’m not writing any text to anyone. Now, which messages are you talking about?” His

voice cracks through the end.

I don’t reply but watch him go through the messages. He clicks open the last one from his

whore and turns to me, wide-eyed and all paled. “I swear on the grave of my mother, to the death of

my sisters that I am not cheating on you. I have no idea who this text is from. I haven’t touched another

woman since you came into my life. You’re the only one for me. Please, don’t ruin our marriage for

some silly messages. It’s probably a spam or a terrible joke. I don’t know this person and I’m not

seeing another woman. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Then, why the hell are you staying in a hotel?”

He turns his face down to the phone. “To have a shower and jerk off. You know, to keep

myself under control when I’m around you.” He tries to end the sentence with a silly smile, which

makes my stomach revolt.

I wait for the whore to arrive but no one shows. Adam and I sit on the bed for hours. He

explains and begs, tears rolling endlessly on his cheeks. A part of me wants to believe him. But what

if he’s really lying? Wouldn’t I be twice the fool I am if I believe his lies? But if it’s a joke from

someone and he’s been honest with me, wouldn’t I be throwing away a beautiful marriage? I’m torn

between kicking him in the groin and wrapping my arms around him.

When it turns to midnight, Adam puts on a pair of black shorts and a blue t-shirt and offers his

hand to me. “Let’s go home.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What can I do to make you believe me?” He sits and cautiously slips his arm around my

waist. It feels so good.

I take a moment to think of a way for him to prove his trustworthiness. “Sell me your shares of

the company.” After all, my first worry when I found out about the message was the company’s future.

“Why?” he asks.

“If you’re really lying to me, I want to make sure to keep Jack’s company intact no matter

what happens between us.”

“Jack’s company?” He smirks, tired lines filling up the corners of his eyes. “Jack. Always

Jack. You and I have been married longer than your marriage to him, and you still consider him first

in every situation. Will I ever come before Jack? Even once?”

I see the hurt in his eyes. That was the hurt I wanted to see when I stormed into this room in

the first place. But now, I feel guilty for wounding him. “I didn’t mean it that way.” I’ve always tried

to watch my words about Jack in order not to hurt Adam. What if he’s not cheating on me and the

person who sent the message had a malicious purpose? I was helping him reach his goal.

I unbutton his t-shirt and run my hand over his chest to feel the scar as a reassurance. The scar

wasn’t a lie. He risked his life for me. And, I love him so much. Even the possibility of him being

with another woman can’t take that away from me. “Can you imagine how much it hurts, just the

thought of you with another woman?”

“Of course, I can. I feel the hurt every time I see you looking at Jack’s pictures.”

“I don’t—” I pause to carefully ponder what I’ll say next. I have Jack’s pictures recorded on

my phone and my computer, and every now and then I look at them. “I don’t look at them... often.”

“I know. I know that you love me, and I understand and even appreciate your love for him, but

it still hurts.” His voice cracks and he drops his eyes down to his knees. Adam, who is the master of

intense staring, cannot look me in the eye. I hurt him that much.

“I’m sorry.” I take his hands into mine and lift them to my lips. “I love you. You’re the only

man in my life.”

“You’re the only woman in my life. I’m begging you; please, don’t ever blame me for cheating

on you again. I’d rather kill myself than do such a horrible thing to you. And, yes. I’ll sell you my

shares in the company first thing in the morning, because your love is the only important thing to me.”

I bury my head in his chest and let the tears that have been kept imprisoned go free. Between

my sobs, I hear him crying, too. My beautiful, tender Adam. I pray I’ll never have to make him cry

again.

The next morning, I go to work early because Adam insists on selling his shares of the

company today. Although I repeat to him that it’s not necessary and that I trust him, he is adamant to

get me to work.

At ten o’clock sharp, his attorney comes. I call the attorney of the company, and four of us sit

in the conference room. To my utter shock, Adam wasn’t just planning to sell his share to me; instead

he wants to transfer them to me without getting a penny out of the transaction. He paid a little over

five million dollars when he bought them. After one and a half years, the company’s value has

doubled, which automatically doubled the value of his shares.

His attorney hands me a paper to sign, under the curious eyes of my own attorney.

“You can’t do that. I won’t sign it.” I shoot Adam a surprised look.

“Please, Taylor,” Adam urges. “Don’t oppose it. Jack left you the company. You should be the

sole owner of it.”

“Okay, but let me at least buy them. Just give me a couple of days to gather the money.”

“I don’t need the money.” He stares at me with a look that speaks more than words. He

doesn’t need the money; he needs my trust.

“Don’t. No. There is no way I’m signing it.” I push my chair back to stand and leave the

conference room. Adam runs after me and catches me in the hall.

“I won’t calm down until you sign the paper,” Adam says when he reaches me.

I ignore him and walk toward my office. Henry is chatting with Sabrina in the anteroom, and

both turn to smile at me as I enter. I nod to them, walking into my office as Adam comes behind me

and closes the door.

Why is he being so generous? I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s just about my trust issues.

“Don’t say any more.” I raise my palm toward him. “I’m not going to do it. The company

wouldn’t be what it is today without your input. If anything, I should gift you more shares to reward

your efforts.”

He throws himself in the chair across from my desk and lets out a frustrated breath. “Jack’s

father founded this company and Jack left it to you. It’s not right for me to claim ownership of it, even

a part of it. It should belong to you fully.”

“It’s not actually about gaining my trust, is it? You’re punishing me for still looking at Jack’s

pictures. For still having feelings for him. But, he’s in the past. You’re my present and future. I love

you. You fill all of my heart and soul.”

He smiles the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in his face; a smile full of contentment,

surprise, solace, and love. “What if I offer you mind-blowing sex right now on your desk in addition

to the shares, will you sign the papers?”

I roll my eyes and lean my head back to rest it on my chair, letting the feelings of deprivation

and frustration fill my body. “As much as I want to, I have to say no to the share transfer. Either you’ll

sell them to me or stay as one of the company owners.”

“Your final word?”

I nod. He stands and leaves without saying another word.

I don’t know what to make of his generous offer. Perhaps he’s really having an affair with

another woman, maybe had and finished it, and he’s giving me his part of the company to lessen the

feeling of guilt. If that’s the case, he’s not as much of a monster as I made of him out to be. He’s just a

man controlled by his sex drive.

Still, the thought of sharing him with another woman is enough to destroy me. How quickly

just a few text messages turned me into a mass of fury? How much worse would I be if it was actually

the truth?

Yet, more than the idea of Adam sleeping with another woman, it’s the thought of him not

loving me anymore that really hurts me.

If he’s honest about the text messages, then how did they end up in his inbox? In a separate

folder, no less. The messages are too elaborate to be just spam. The last message hit Adam’s inbox at

the right time for me to see it. Timing too perfect to be an accident. Is someone playing games with

me?

There’s no other explanation than someone else’s finger on the buttons to make sense out of

this odd occurrence. I can’t think of anyone other than Valerie, who gets a kick out of interfering with

my life. Since she’s kept under the watchful eyes of the psychiatric personnel, and her accomplice is

in prison, it must be someone else, maybe another accomplice, behind the messages. Valerie doesn’t

have a sibling or any other relative who might help her. However, even the most malicious people

have friends, most likely as depraved as they. If Valerie is getting an outsider to help plan another

attack on me, I should be prepared for her next move.

A cold chill spreads across my body as I remember the events Valerie caused me to go

through. The assault in the parking lot, the fake suicide, and her attempt to kill me. She might want to

try to attack Adam to get back at me.

I grab my phone to dial Bree. She knows how much I suffered because of Valerie and stayed

with me through the ups and downs. Bad luck that she had to break her leg when I need her most.

“Hello,” Bree answers with a husky tone in her voice.

“Bree. I’m glad you answered. What happened? How’s your leg?”

“Much better. Hey, you don’t sound well. Isn’t everything okay with the love birds? Don’t tell

me it’s about Adam’s meetings with Chloe Hawkins.”

Yeah, there was that issue, too. “No, it’s something else, but I don’t want to bother you with

my problems right you.”

“You can bother me all you want. I’d rather be bothered with your personal issues than my

throbbing leg.”

I pull my chair toward the window, slip out of my shoes, gather my feet under my legs yoga

style, and recite to Bree every little detail about last night. She listens with a few ah’s and oh’s in

between.

“Sounds very suspicious,” she confirms my own beliefs.

“Do you think Valerie might have something to do with it?” I ask.

“It’s difficult to say.” She exhales a long breath, making rustling sounds on the phone. “She

certainly has the motivation, but I don’t think she’s capable of executing it from the loony bin.”

“I thought that, too. But, she must have someone who’s helping her from outside.”

“Yeah, that’d be the only way. Why don’t you have Ferrell from IT take a look at the

messages? He might track down the sender.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Honestly, Taylor. You should stop suspecting Adam’s fidelity. That’ll only push him into

another woman’s arms.”

“That’s not exactly calming.”

“I’m not saying it for you to calm down. Adam is a good man, as good as it gets. I haven’t

seen another man so much in love. There shouldn’t be any place for jealousy in your relationship. It’ll

only set you two apart.”

She’s right. I bite my lower lip and scratch my forehead. If only I can control my irrational

emotions. “I know. I guess I’ve gotten too emotional after the miscarriage. I can’t help but feel

inadequate...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you have miscarriage?”

Oops. Now that the cat is out of the bag...“Yeah, almost two months ago.”

“Oh, girl. I’m so sorry. But, hey. you’re still young. You’ll have a child sooner or later. Don’t

put yourself under unnecessary pressure.”

“I’ll try.” I have to try.

“I should go now. Someone’s at the door. Must be my lunch order.”

“Okay.” I start to tab on the phone to end the call, but I remember the problem with the

furniture purchase. “Oh, wait. The cost of the furniture was ninety-five-thousand dollars. Not fifty as

you’d told me.”

“Yeah, about that. When I placed the order, the discount wasn’t available any more. I thought

the total sum would be fifty, but then I received an email from the customer service saying that the

sum was actually ninety-five. I couldn’t cancel it even though the problem was a technical issue on

their website. I’m very sorry.”

“Just so you know; Adam canceled the order.”

“I expected that.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

I head directly to Adam’s office to borrow his phone to get Farrell to examine the suspicious

text messages, but find a note on his door saying he’ll be on the construction site the rest of the day.

I let Adam be the rest of the time. Somehow, the shock of him possibly cheating on me has

drained all the sexual pleasure out of me. That’s why I don’t have any motivation left to plot another

trick to seduce him. It’s as if my perception of him has changed—or worse, we’ve changed.

He stops going to the hotel, as expected, but instead spends a lot of time in his study. In the

evening, he runs for hours and comes home exhausted only to settle in front of the TV. At least he

cuddles with me on the couch while watching his basketball games. I’m beginning to think that he’s

punishing me for that kiss he witnessed, rather than giving me a lesson about men. Now that I had my

own share of jealous trauma about him with another woman, I can totally understand his anger over

that kiss.

I book a weekend stay in Las Vegas in an attempt to break the growing distance between us.

We stay at the Bellagio, gamble, and watch shows until the morning, skip breakfast the next day, and

have a hearty buffet lunch. We basically do everything under the sun, except for having a serious talk.

I can’t help but feel our relationship is slipping through our fingers.

We arrive at our home a little before midnight. I hop into the shower the first thing to wash

away the heavy odor of casinos and the airport that has sunk into my skin, while Adam disappears

into his study, as usual.

I don’t see him in the bedroom until about midnight, but I don’t have energy to go check up on

him. Yawning heavily and loudly, I slip under the sheets and start sleeping. A moment later, I jolt up

in the bed when a fresh rush of desire sparks between my legs. I look around to see the reason for it.

Adam’s naked body is curled around mine, his bare legs entwined with my clothed legs, his arms

wrapped around my waist. My body is reacting to him even while deep in sleep.

He’s sleeping naked except for boxer briefs and sprawled on the bed. My lust for him is

growing by the second, making me break into a sweat. It’s not just the physical desire to be with him,

to feel him that pumps the blood faster in my veins. It’s the pure, elemental yearning to be one heart

and soul with him again. It’s been over two weeks that I’ve been deprived of him and his love. Now I

need, more than anything, to feel that he still loves me.

I pull out my t-shirt, and slip back down on the bed, then wrap my arms around his neck, and

begin rubbing my breasts against his chest. My nipples jump from his hot skin brushing against mine.

Inhaling his naturally musky scent, I bury my lips in his neck and nuzzle gently against his skin. I’d

prefer nowhere else in the whole wide world to being wrapped up in his arms. My heaven on earth.

The only place where no problems or worries are strong enough to get me down.

Humming faintly, he tightens his grip around my waist and shifts to position himself on top of

me and his hips between my thighs. I gasp at the sudden heat pulsating in my core.

I lick and suck his chest, despite knowing nothing would take me to the long-missed sensation

of the climax. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as our eyes meet.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks while examining my face for a clue.

“For the words I said to you at the hotel.”

He waits, without saying anything. I watch his Adam's apple move up and down as he

swallows. He can’t just forgive me yet. He must have been very hurt.

“I know I hurt you. Even more than you realize. And I’d give everything I have to be able to

take back what I said.” I pause to take a deep breath. I feel like I’ll choke on the sob pushing up in my

throat. No words can even begin to cover the regret that’s been sucking the life out of me slowly but

steadily these last few days. I hurt him; I hurt myself; I hurt our relationship, which has basically

become my only reason to live. “I’m sorry for kissing another man, too. And I’m not apologizing

because I want to make love to you, though I am dying to be one with you again. Don’t get me wrong.

But, more than that, I want us to go back to how we were before the kiss. I can’t put up with the

thought of us being estranged from each other. I love you, and I know you love me, too. And I’ll wait

for you as long as you want.”

Except for a miniature smile, he keeps his mouth shut and leans down to rest his head on my

shoulder. I stay awake for several minutes, hoping he’d say something, only to hear his breathing

getting deeper and steadier while he is falling asleep in my arms. I kiss his forehead, before I close

my eyes.

Tomorrow will be a new day. I shouldn’t lose hope.

***

It’s hard to keep my hopes high when another week passes without him touching me. I try

directly urging him to talk to me, and when he doesn’t back down from his persistent silence, I

threaten to not go to work if he won’t open up with what’s keeping him away from me.

The morning of signing the contract with Mr. Hawkins, I go to the shower with him, praying

silently that he’ll finally end this game so I can go to work. He gets under the water and starts soaping

himself. I take the sponge from his hand and run it around his back.

“I’m not going to work if we don’t talk about it now,” I say.

He turns around sharply to face me, hard lines covering his face. “You can’t be serious. The

company is your responsibility. You can’t neglect it for a silly game.”

I take a step back at the anger in his face, in his words. “I told you I wouldn’t go to work

unless we work things out between us. It’s actually you who is insisting on continuing the abstinence.”

“You shouldn’t mix your private life with work. Didn’t you once say the company was what

kept you alive after Jack’s death? Don’t you care about his legacy anymore? You know the

importance of this new project for the company.”

I shake my head several times. “I can’t work under these conditions. I can’t think straight.”

“You don’t need to think straight to place your signature on the contract. You’re going with

me, and that’s the end of the discussion.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I step out of the shower and grab a towel as I storm out

toward our bedroom. With rage coursing my body, I don’t notice he’s followed me out until I drop the

towel on the floor in the bedroom and turn around to see him.

I’m totally naked and have been begging him to take me for weeks, but he doesn’t so much as

look down at my nudity. What has changed? Have I gained too much weight? Has he lost his interest

in me? Has he finally realized I’m not as attractive as he thought me? Or has it finally dawned on him

marrying his best friend’s wife wasn’t such a brilliant idea? He can’t even file for a divorce if he

wanted to, out of the heavy feeling of debt to Jack for saving his mother’s life.

I grab the pink, silk robe at the foot of the bed and slip it on, tightly fasten it at my waist to

cover up my undesired body, in shame.

“Please, get ready so we can leave in half an hour. We can still make it in time to the meeting.

I don’t need to tell you how unprofessional it’ll be if we keep them waiting.”

Half an hour is long enough for passionate morning sex, but I have neither the courage to

remind him of that, nor the desire. He’s pushing us both down the cliff, yet insists on continuing as if

we don’t have a huge problem.

I sit on the bed and watch him leave the bedroom and then hear the banging of the door of his

study. He’s right. Once again.

Reluctantly, I move toward the closet and pick a navy skirt suit and a silk beige blouse. As I

untie the ribbon of the robe around my waist, my phone beeps with an incoming message. Hoping it’s

from Bree to let me know Mr. Hawkins team is arriving late or even asking to postpone the meeting, I

open the message. First I read the words, but they don’t doesn’t make sense, so I re-read it.

“Adam is mine. I’m pregnant with his baby. Let him go so we can be together.”

Were the messages true? Did Adam actually have an affair with another woman and try to

cover it up with the transfer of his shares? My hands tremble at the one word that has the power to

turn my life upside down. Pregnant. Someone is pregnant by Adam. Oh, my God. Adam is going to

have a baby. And it’s not from me. Even if he loves me, he can’t turn his back on a baby. He’ll just

choose him.

Oh, my God.

Last night was probably the last time we slept together in the same bed. The last time I kissed

him goodnight and rested my head on his shoulder blades while sleeping. My blood drains away with

every passing second that’s taking me closer to a life of loneliness. A life without Adam. My heart

stops beating at the thought of the darkness that will very soon swallow me when Adam leaves. I’d be

a heartless bitch for begging him to stay, to choose me over his unborn baby.

My chest tightens, and no matter how hard I try to inhale, my lungs refuse to hold any air. I

slap my chest to facilitate breathing, and finally I manage to cough hard, and the air eases its way

down to my lungs.

Adam is like my next breath. If he leaves me, that’ll be my end.

As soon as I gain enough composure to take control of my shaking body, I walk to his study. I

lift my hand to the door knob and I hear him talking on the phone.

“No, I can’t now... Why do you want to meet now? I have an important meeting. Just tell me

now whatever you want to tell on the phone... What is so important that I have to drive all the way to

you?”

He’s talking to her. The mother of his unborn kid. I’m not making it up. It’s all true. A sick

feeling hits me in the pit of my stomach. She’s sent me a simple message to let me know the existence

of the baby, but she wants Adam to be with her, rub her belly, and even make love to her after she

breaks the news. I cover my mouth with a hand while the other one is tightly gripping my cell phone.

The door opens, startling me to the core.

“What are you doing here?” Adam gazes down at me, his expression reflecting the shock I’m

feeling.

I can’t find my tongue. I can’t move a limb. I just gesture with my eyes from him to the phone

in my hand. He grabs it and stares at its screen. The fear in his eyes ends the paralysis in my body.

“Please, Adam,” I start. “Don’t leave me. I know you always wanted to be a father. But,

please. I’m begging you. Don’t go away.” Tears roll down my cheeks faster than my words come out

of my mouth. “You remember I told you once ‘I let you in my life but I’ll die if you leave me?’ That

was serious. I can feel it in every cell in my body. I can’t live a life where you don’t exist.”

“Baby, no. Stop talking like I’m going to leave you.”

I move toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you so much I’m even ready to

share you with the mother of your child. I love you so much I can even learn to love your baby.” I tilt

my head back to see his face.

He leans down, crashing his lips on mine, his kiss full of desire and possessiveness. When he

pulls away, he brushes his nose on my cheeks down to my neck. “Those are the most beautiful words

anyone has ever told me, but no. There is no baby. I didn’t have sex with any woman other than you

since they day I met you.”

“What about the message?”

“I thought the last ones were spams, but obviously they weren’t. Someone is trying to get

between us.”

My entire being yearns to believe his words. “Still. Then why don’t you make love to me

anymore? I miss you so much. Don’t you see how I’m fading away without your love?”

My breasts feel heavy with the need to be touched, my nipples hard under the silk gown that’s

barely covering anything because of its loosened ribbon. He looks down, his eyes burning with the

reaction that my nakedness finally causes in him, and runs his finger on my chest down my belly then

my pelvis, pushing the gown fully aside.

“You’re making it so hard for me.”

He’s not answering my question, but I don’t care because his hand is now between my legs. I

dig my nails into his shoulders. He hasn’t touched me there for so long, I’ve almost forgotten how

shaky it makes my legs.

“I want you so badly.” Thrill and lust are coating his voice, and he’s breathing deeply, as if

he’s the one deprived of sex all these weeks.

“Then take—” My sentence is interrupted with a loud moan as his finger slips inside me. I’ve

been so hungry for his touch, I feel like exploding into a thousand flaming pieces with just a few

strokes of his finger caressing my walls.

“Oh, fuck.” He doesn’t wait until the contractions in my core stop before lifting me up. My

legs wrap around his waist, he hauls me onto the couch in his study. In a split second, he takes off his

jacket and shirt, kicks off the pants and boxers, and crawls up on me fully naked. The sight of his hard

erection twitching toward me is worth waiting years for. He spreads my legs with his knees and,

without even losing a second, rams his full length into me. I curl, moan, and scream as another orgasm

hits me. A much stronger one that shakes me to my core and fills me with hope.

We’re one, once again, finally united with our bodies and souls.

“I’ve never wanted a woman so much in my life.” He pulls his penis all the way out except for

the head and slams it inside me again. “My desire for you has become so much more than the first

time I saw you.”

I’m breaking apart with convulsions; one after another. The intense sensation that is coursing

through my body flames back to life all the exhilaration he’s brought to me since he forced himself

into my life. He’s breathless above me, his lustful gaze holding mine, but the wild sensations going on

inside me are preventing me from seeing him clearly. He thrusts into me over and over again,

kneading my breasts, pinching my nipples, biting my shoulder, moaning my name, and finally roars his

release in me.

My heart feels like it’ll explode with the love I feel for him. And now I realize such intense

love was alien to me up until I began loving Adam. I loved Jack, but not the way I feel for Adam. Not

with the same passion that makes me burn day and night for him, that makes everything else

meaningless in life, that the thought of him not loving me anymore would push me to death in a literal

sense. And all Adam had to do was to deprive me of him for some time, to make me realize it.

He’s the love of my life, my real love.

Everything happens for a reason; even Jack’s death.

***

I tangle my fingers into his hair when he lifts up to look at me. The look of love and affection

in his tender eyes is unmistakable.

“I love you more than anything, anyone in my life,” I say the words as they come directly from

my heart. The only truth my body and soul recognizes. The only truth that matters.

He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment, as if to take in what I’ve just said.

“Those are the words I was planning to hear on my birthday.”

“You were planning to get me to say them to you on your birthday?” I snort. “Exactly how

were you planning to do that?”

“Just like I did now. The original plan was to keep you waiting until my birthday and then to

have amazing sex just like we did a minute ago, and to wait until you spill those pearls of words out

of your lovely mouth.”

I scowl, curious and confused. “Was that the real reason behind this whole scheme?”

He smiles and lowers his head to give me a peck on the nose. “One of the three reasons, yes.

But, I should have known you wouldn’t let me keep my hands to myself for such a long time.”

More confusion hits me. “I didn’t do anything particular to arouse you this time. You started it

on your own.”

“Oh, yes, you did. My weakest point is your love, and you showed me with the sweetest

possible way that you loved me so much that you were even ready to share me with another woman. I

can’t imagine anything more arousing than that.”

“Let me make something clear to you; I don’t actually want to share you. So, if any fantasy of a

threesome is seeding up in your mind, just smash it into pieces. That’s not gonna happen.”

He laughs and rolls down next to me, wrapping me tightly in his arms. “Taylor, when will you

understand that I’ve become a gay man for all the other women in the entire world?”

I snuggle with him for a while, enjoying the ultimate satisfaction of having every muscle in my

body relaxed after mind-blowing sex with my husband.

“As much as I’d love to spend the day with you in my arms, we have an important meeting to

catch. Now, get your pretty ass off of my couch and put on some nice clothes.”

“How about the text I received? Who sent it?” And suddenly I remember the phone call Adam

was making when I was about to enter his study. “By the way, who were you talking to on the phone?”

“I’ll explain everything to you on the way to work. Come on,” he says and motions toward the

door with his head.

I shower and dry quickly before I put on the navy suit I picked. Hand in hand, we hurry to the

elevator.

“You drive today,” he says and hands me the car key. “I have to make a phone call.”

“First, tell me who you were talking to.”

“Candice Sherylwood.”

“Candice, from the Loving Wives?”

He nods.

“Why were you talking to her?”

“I hired her to set up a game. Paul Decker is her assistant. And don’t worry, he’s gay.”

“The kiss was part of the game?” I ask as the elevator doors open. “You, bastard. I knew

you’d try to get back at me. You can’t imagine how dirty I felt because of that kiss. I thought you were

distancing yourself from me because of it. I blamed myself and the kiss for everything.” I slap his arm

with my purse.

“I’m sorry that you felt that way. I didn’t feel good watching you being kissed by another man

either. Gay or straight.”

We pace toward his car, then he opens the door for me, and walks around to the passenger

seat.

“So, what was so important that Candice wanted to see you in person to tell you?” I insert the

key into the ignition and turn it.

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. She just said it’s vital that I go see her within an hour.”

“I thought you were talking to your pregnant girlfriend and she wanted to see you to break the

news in person.”

“Oh, babe, really?” He reaches out his hand and pulls me to his lips. Although he had given

me the pleasure of all pleasures just a few minutes ago, I feel the heat gathering between my legs

again as he sucks my lips.

“A weird coincidence, don’t you think?” I ask as I maneuver us out of the parking lot.

Adam’s phone buzzes, making me jump in my seat. I guess from now on I’ll hate the sound of

it.

“It’s Sabrina. She’s saying Mr. Hawkins had a delay because of the traffic and will arrive half

an hour later.”

“That’s good. I won’t need to risk a speeding ticket,” I joke.

Adam shakes his head, smiling, as he dials a number. “I’m Adam Garnett. Can I speak to

Pedro Solinas, please... All right... Hello, yes... My wife received another message an hour ago. From

the same phone number... Right... Right... I’ll do that.” He hangs up the phone and turns to me. “We

need to find a public phone. There is one at the Pan Pacific Recreational Center.”

“I’ll have to turn around to go there,” I say although what I really want is an explanation.

“It’s okay. We’ve got enough time before the meeting.”

When we stop, he leans in to my ear and whispers. “Leave your phone in the car.”

I eye him curiously but do as he says and put my phone inside the glove compartment before I

get out of the car. He leaves his, too.

I grab his hand, while we hurry toward the recreational center. “Are you gonna tell me what’s

going on?”

“I hired a private investigator to find the person behind the messages. He told me he was onto

something but couldn’t tell it to me over my cell phone. He thinks our phones are bugged.”

Marriage-ruining messages, call monitoring. Things were much simpler when my only worry

was sex-deprivation. When we find the public phone, Adam picks up the receiver with a tissue and

punches in the numbers.

“I’m out of the car... Yes... What have you got... Hold on.” Adam drops the receiver to his

chest and scans the surrounding before focusing on me. “Do you know any Annette Greene?”

I open my mouth to say no, but something bugs me. “Maybe.” I frown as I force my mind to

think. A fading memory resurfaces itself.

I’m Annette Greene. You can call me Ann. Besides those words nothing else rings any bells.

I look up at Adam. “I think I know someone with that name, but I don’t remember anything

else.”

Adam puts the receiver back to his ear. “Taylor might know her. Check any relationship with

Valerie Holland.”

Valerie? What would she get by trying to separate me from Adam? A scene of Valerie

introducing Annette appears in my mind, but it feels more like a made-up memory than a real one.

“The same yoga studio membership? I don’t know. Maybe they became friends there and are

together in this... That’s interesting. Are you sure about it... Maybe a coincidence, but I won’t be

surprised if the two set it up together.”

After he hangs up the phone, he wipes his hands with the tissue and throws it in the trash can.

He doesn’t take my hand but slips his arm around my waist as we walk back to the car. “Annette

Greene works for Del Piero Constructions, one of the competitors who were in the auction for the

Berenson project.”

“Do you think she’s trying to keep us from signing the contact?”

“I don’t know, but if that’s her goal, we should hurry to stop her from reaching it.” He grips

my hand and starts to walk toward the sidewalk, but I pull him toward me.

“Tell me something,” I say when his eyebrows furrow at my unwillingness to walk. “What

were the other reasons for the abstinence? You said the birthday gift was one of the three reasons.”

His eyes drop, and he grabs my other hand, bringing the two to his lips. “I know about the

miscarriage.”

I wince, curious what one thing has to do with the other. “How?”

“The insurance receipt for the emergency fee. I talked to Dr. Fowler, and she told me not to

have unprotected sex until you have at least two full cycles. I wanted to give you the space you

needed until you were ready to talk about the loss. And showing up with a condom for sex would

raise red flags. You’d know that I found out about the miscarriage, and I didn’t want you to feel worse

than you already must have felt all this time.”

I narrow my eyes to show him my disbelief. “That’s why you alienated yourself from me

completely?”

“It sure wasn’t my intention, but I guess it helped avert your attention from the miscarriage.”

“It kind of did.”

“I wish you had told me about it,” he says.

“I was emotionally in a bad place. If I’m completely honest with myself, I still am. I wish I

could push away the insecurities.”

His hands reach up to my cheeks, and he cups my face and leans in close to my lips. “Don’t.

Just send all those feelings my way. I’ll make sure to beat them up one by one.” His eyes flicker to my

lips, and in a flash he claims my mouth, first with lingering, moist licks, then forcing his tongue deep

into my mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss.

A child’s cry startles us both, and we break our kiss. “This is not exactly the right place to

make out.” Adam points at the playground a few feet away. “Let’s go.”

We hurry back to the car and drive in silence. I can’t believe Adam knew about my

miscarriage and didn’t say a word about it. Was he upset the first time he found out that I hid it from

him? Is he as disappointed in me as I am?

I notice my hands are massaging my belly. I’d be entering the second trimester by now if the

miscarriage hadn’t taken place and probably already be showing. Adam glances at my face, then at

my hands that are still resting on my belly, but doesn’t say a word. A look of sorrow fills his eyes,

and a gentle smile curls his lips. He’s my husband. We’re in this together. I should learn to share my

misery with him.

“Don’t you worry about it, baby. Now that we know you can get pregnant, we’ll try it over

and over until it sticks.”

Once we arrive at work, I grab my phone tentatively as though it’s made of fire and slip it into

my purse. I shoot a ‘what are we going to do?’ glance at Adam. He just rubs my back and plants a

kiss on my forehead. Which works like magic to calm my jittery nerves. Whatever happens, having

him on my side is a great relief.

Bree meets us at the door of the conference room with the company attorney and Henry, from

accounting, and hands us the contracts to review one last time. I’m so nervous I can barely read

anything. Hoping Adam’s mind is functioning better than mine, I pour myself a cup of tea and settle in

my chair. I can’t believe I was going to miss the signing because of a sex problem. Looks like my

brain stops working all together when my vagina doesn’t get its daily dose of sperm. And not to

forget, the simplest but most effective text message to turn me into a whiny toddler. I’m glad Adam

chose the higher way and honored me back with my brains.

I find myself anxiously drumming my fingers on the table. “No news from Mr. Hawkins, yet?”

“I’ll call them again.” Bree dials the number on the phone in front of her and waits. “It goes

directly to the answering machine.

“Something isn’t right.” Adam walks up and down the room, scratching his head with his long

fingers. “I’ll try talking to Chloe.” He dials the number on the phone of the conference room and

leaves the speaker on for us to hear the conversation. “Hello, Chloe. This is Adam Garnett.”

“Oh, hello,” the girl says, sounding surprised.

“We’ve been waiting for Mr. Hawkins to sign the contract for over half an hour. Isn’t he in

L.A. yet?”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier, but my father decided to grant the project to Del

Piero Constructions.”

Adam’s eyes flicker across the room, the cast of his face conveying every bit of shock he must

be feeling, reflecting mine and everyone else’s in the room. “May I ask why he changed his mind?”

“Adam, look, you’re a nice person, but we can’t sign an important project with a company

that’s going through financial problems.”

“What financial problems? We don’t have any problems, neither financial nor any other.”

“We heard something else, something about the cancelation of a furniture purchase and a

payment to one of your subcontractors due to shortness of cash.”

How do they know? I stop breathing, and Bree covers up her mouth with both hands and

whispers, “Oh, god.”

Adam’s lips curves up with a painful smile. “We canceled the furniture purchase simply

because of their inability to provide a satisfactory customer service, and we didn’t pay our

subcontractor because they failed to deliver the services we’d agreed upon in our initial deal. Not

because we’re limited on money. I’m ready to send you a bank statement or any other proof you want,

to show that we have the necessary financial and technical resources to carry out the project.

Whoever has told you those lies about Edelman Construction is not to be trusted. You’re making a big

mistake by going into business with such people. We have a track record of completing our projects

in time and with demonstrated success. You can get in contact with any of our previous clients to get

feedback on our work. Don’t let a few corrupt people ruin your project. You’ll not be able to find any

other company in the entire state to complete your project with the prices and quality of work we

offer.”

“I’ll try to talk to my father, but I doubt he’ll listen to me at this point.”

“This is not only about Edelman Construction. No one has benefitted from working with liars.

Make sure your father understands he’ll lose money and time if he signs any contract without

investigating what kind of people he’s going to work with.” Adam picks up and places the receiver

back, cursing under his breath.

“Oh, god, oh god, oh god.” I run my shaky hands through my hair, unable to contain my shock.

We already signed agreements with and sent deposits to new subcontractors in that area. Everyone in

the business knows we are going to take over the Berenson project. But now, we’ll not just lose

money, but our reputation too will suffer from losing a project of this size.

Adam stands and returns to his pacing of the room. “I should have known those assholes at

Del Piero wouldn't accept failure at the auction and would pull a trick like that.”

“What are we going to do?” Bree asks.

Adam shrugs his shoulders to show he has no idea. “Let’s wait and see if Chloe can convince

her father to at least to think matters over before finalizing a contract with Del Piero.”

We wait in the conference room for Chloe’s call, none of us able to do anything else. I’m not

even sure she’ll call us back, and each passing minute without the phone ringing feels like physical

pain in my chest. And, when finally Adam’s cell rings, we all hold our breaths, so as not to make any

noise, and watch him answer it.

“Chloe. Yes... Okay... I think that’s fair... Okay... Friday at two. I’ll be there. Thank you.”

After shoving his phone back into the pocket of his pants, Adam plops on a chair and lets out a

relieved breath. “Hawkins agreed to hold off signing the contract with Del Piero for a week to

investigate.”

“Thank god. That’ll give us some time to put an end to this smear campaign.” If we can

actually find a way.

As if reading the hesitation in my mind, Adam says, “The only way is to talk to Mr. Hawkins

in person and show him the facts. I’ll ask Chloe to help set up a meeting with him.”

I work hard not to roll my eyes at the mentioning of Chloe’s name once again. I have yet to

meet that woman, while Adam is speaking to and about her as if they’re best friends. “I’d like to be

present in that meeting, too.”

Adam nods and starts working on a text on his phone, probably to Chloe. I shift in my chair,

uncomfortable from sitting in the same position for so long, and a jolt of pain inside my belly makes

me flinch.

Bree’s eyes examine me up and down. “Everything all right?”

Adam stops typing and focuses his attention on me, his brows forming a thick line above his

eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My leg is sleeping.” I start to get up, breathing in and out, but another attack

of cramps forces me back into my chair, earning a brief shriek out of me.

Adam shows up at my side in flash. “Baby, you look pale. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I look at Bree and the others pointedly. “Can you guys leave us alone for a minute? We’ll keep

you updated as soon as we know anything.”

Bree nods, grabbing her crutches, and exits with the two guys. I have to bite my lip to hold

down another scream, because the same painful cramp hits my abdomen again.

It reminds me of... Oh shit.

Am I going through another miscarriage? I cover my face with my hands, shame constricting

my chest. If it’s another miscarriage, I have no courage to look at Adam.

Adam’s fingers curl around my wrists and pull my hands away from my face. “Now, tell me

what’s wrong.” He nestles my hands between his.

“I don’t know. I need a minute alone.”

“Taylor,” Adam says, kneeling down to my eye level, hurt clear in his expression. “It’s me.”

I turn my face to the side, because I can’t bear the thought of having another miscarriage. And

this time Adam will be there to find it out, to experience it with me. I lick my dry lips and swallow,

trying to decide how to explain it. “Uh, I’m having cramps... similar to the ones I had on the day of

the...” A loud sob prevents me from finishing my sentence.

He loosens his hold of my hands, and I sneak a glance at his face, which is now long with

disappointment. Exactly the emotion I didn’t want to cause him to have. “Are you pregnant? Taylor, I

wish you wouldn’t hide anything from me. We’re in this together—”

“I don’t know,” I say to stop him. “My period is late for longer than a month now. I thought

it’s the hormones after the miscarriage. But, maybe not.”

“Let’s go to the hospital.”

For what? To find out I was indeed pregnant and am losing it again?

The morning was stressful enough, first with the emotional rollercoaster due to the fake-

pregnancy news from some woman, then the problem with signing contract. Even a healthy, physically

strong pregnant woman might be affected, let alone someone like me, who has a history of infertility

problems and miscarriage. The entire world seems to be working against me.

After Adam helps me get to my feet, we stop at the bathroom. I have to force my feet into the

stall to check my underwear. Adam stands between the wall and the toilet door and watches my hands

cautiously as I roll up my skirt and reach to my panties. I’ll throw up if I have to witness another

blood lake.

The moment of truth comes when I pull down the panties and see no blood. Ripping a piece of

toilet paper, I wipe it between my legs. And still no blood.

“No blood,” Adam says. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

I slip my panties back up and straighten my skirt, letting out the breath I’ve been holding all

this time. “I don’t know.”

He grabs my waist and slowly runs a hand over my belly. “You know I thought you felt

rounder when we had sex earlier. You might indeed be pregnant.”

Yeah, with an approaching expiration date. “Why don’t you deal with the Hawkins’s case,

and I go to the hospital by myself?”

“Fuck the contract. Why do you think I’ll care more about some project than your health?”

“I didn’t mean that. Someone has to deal with it.”

“It can wait, but your health can’t. I’m going with you.”

I seriously need professional help to control my feelings, because I find myself crying in the

car, while driving to the hospital. I may not have blood, but cramps this painful must be proof of an

impending miscarriage. I wish I could convince Adam to spare me from another meltdown at the

emergency.

We wait long hours at the emergency because having cramps without blood isn’t an

emergency enough, apparently. When finally a nurse calls my name, we’re ushered into a small room,

and an ultrasound technician examines my abdomen.

My heart stops beating at the sound of other heartbeats filling the room. Oh, god. Am I really

pregnant? With a living baby?

I can’t take my eyes away from the screen, although I have no idea what I should be looking at.

“You’re not having a miscarriage, Mrs. Garnett. You’re nine weeks pregnant with a healthy

baby,” the young girl says, holding the ultrasound pads.

Adam lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, hardly holding back his tears. I want to

ask the technician if she’s absolutely sure, but the heartbeats are loud enough to keep me from

demanding nonsense.

“His heart is beating too fast,” I point out.

“Yeah, reminds me of my own while I do cardiac workouts.” Adam gazes at me, smiling, and

I know what kind of cardiac workout he’s talking about.

“The heart rate of a healthy fetus around eight or nine weeks will be over 130 beat per minute.

Your baby’s heart rate is just fine.” The technician collects the pads and gives me a paper towel to

wipe away the gel off of my belly.

“How about the cramps?” I ask, fearing a discouraging reply.

“Cramps, vomiting, feeling of tiredness, frequent urinations, etc. are common pregnancy

symptoms. You should set up an appointment with your OB/GYN immediately to get more

information about pregnancy and start your prenatal care. Until then, you might want to start taking

prenatal vitamins which should include folic acid and iron.”

Prenatal vitamins? They always make me constipated.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Adam says, and as soon as we’re out of the hospital, sweeps me off my

feet and spins around.

“Slow down. I’ll throw up,” I scream, laughing. I can’t believe I get to experience this

magical moment that I thought I’d never have with my husband. Nine weeks! I could make it to nine

long weeks of pregnancy. Four more weeks and the most risky first trimester will be over. Add

another twenty-six weeks, and our baby will be in my arms.

What an incredible turn of events that first had me believe Adam’s expecting a baby with

another woman, then turns out it’s me who’ll have a baby with him. A baby with crazy heartbeats. I

don’t mind it at all if every awful tragedy ends with such a beautiful reward.

10 – ADAM: Silence before the storm

I’m living in bliss. My marriage with Taylor was already a piece of heaven, but her pregnancy

has brought everything up to a new level. I haven’t seen her this happy and beautiful in my life. She

laughs, sings, jokes, simply thrives on life. Her belly has grown bigger; it takes more than both my

hands to cover it. And I can’t even begin with her breasts.

Adriana, my sister, succeeded in squeezing out the information about Taylor’s pregnancy,

even though I’d promised to Taylor that I’d keep it from everyone until the last trimester. As soon as

I’d finished talking to Adriana on the phone, I received a call from Eleanor, my younger sister,

congratulating me for becoming a father. It took two days for the twins to hear about it and call me

back, I guess because of the time difference, since they were on a backpacking trip through Europe. I

had to force each of my sisters to promise to keep their knowledge about the pregnancy from Taylor.

It’s hard to be surrounded by so many women.

The private investigator I hired couldn’t find anything regarding the woman who’d sent the

text messages. But, I managed to smooth out the problems about the Berenson project with Mr.

Hawkins, thanks to Chloe’s help. She’s been really supportive and truly believed in Edelman

Constructions’ ability to effectively carry out the responsibilities of an account any size.

We’re finally starting with the construction today. I’m not familiar with the new

subcontractors, though they came highly recommended. Since the first day at the site will set the tone

for the rest of the project’s life, I’ll have to observe and instruct each and every employee to make

sure they know what is expected from them.

The morning rays of the sun coming through the curtains hit my eyes, and I roll on my back.

Taylor has escaped to the bathroom for probably the fifth time to pee, as if she drank a gallon of milk

before going to bed. I don’t know what’s going on with her body, but it seems like the amount of

liquid multiplies tenfold inside her, causing her to use the bathroom too frequently for a healthy adult.

I hear the toilet door open, then close, and hear her tiptoeing back to the bed. She must be

thinking I’m sleeping, and I’ll leave her to continue in her belief, because I’ve grown addicted to her

morning surprises. Like the increase in her bathroom visits, her libido has gotten out of control, too.

For which I can’t complain.

The bed moves as she sneaks on it and pulls the covers down. A brief sigh escapes her mouth,

probably at the sight of my hard-on beneath my boxers. Envisioning her getting wet for me makes me

horny in an instant.

I keep on feigning sleep, anxious to experience what she has in store for our raging desire. I

feel her move on the bed, but don’t dare part my eyelids for fear of being caught. The sudden touch of

her fingers at my hips, hooking in the waistband of my boxers almost makes me moan. She slowly

pulls them down, making sure my cock doesn’t get caught in the waistband, and stops a moment once

my cock is freed from the fabric. My heart is hammering in anticipation of the next seconds, and I’m

torn between keeping my eyes closed to enjoy the mystery or open them to watch her as she pleasures

herself with my cock.

Her warm breath touches my skin before her hands, and the next thing I know, her tongue

slides along my cock.

Fuck!

My breath hitches at my throat, and my cock twitches at the warm moistness when she takes

all of me inside her mouth without any forewarning, and begins sucking me as if I’m her favorite

flavor of ice cream.

“Oh, baby,” I purr.

She chuckles; the vibration coming from the depths of her throat makes my cock grow harder.

Her hands grab along my shaft as she pulls her mouth away from me. My cock twitches in protest at

losing the warm moistness of her mouth.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.” She moves over me, her hands trailing up my chest, her legs

straddling my hips, and sits on my cock without any panties blocking the way.

I open my eyes to see the lustful look on her face, as she rocks herself back and forth along the

length of my cock. Her eyes are half-open, barely gazing at me. The lips of her dripping-wet pussy

squeeze me teasingly. Her mouth opens and closes with a moan each time her entrance hits the head of

my cock, but she won’t let me in just yet. I let her enjoy herself, although I’m dying to feel the heat

inside her hug me tightly.

“Take this off,” I say, pointing at the long, cotton nightgown she’s wearing. Gone are the sexy

baby dolls and lacy lingerie I used to enjoy.

She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. I’d be damned if she does one thing, just one simple thing,

I ask her without objecting. She’s set on not believing my words about her sexy looks. “Are you sure?

I’m not comfortable when I’m completely naked.”

“Not that nonsense again. Baby, I’m sorry I have to tell this, but I think you’re so much sexier

now that you’re more than a handful. I guess I’ll have to get you pregnant every year to enjoy those big

curves of yours.”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t believe a word of it.”

If she’s complaining about her looks with only a few extra pounds, I can’t begin to imagine

how she’ll cover herself up when she gets really voluptuous near the end of her pregnancy. How a

beautiful and smart woman like Taylor can have body-image issues is beyond me. I straighten up on

the bed, careful not to change the way she’s snuggling my penis between her legs, and yank the gown

over her head. “Guess I’ll have to find a way to get rid of all those ugly nightgowns before you get too

comfortable in them.”

“Don’t even think about it, or I’ll not have sex with you anymore.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I move her down on her back on the bed and settle

between her legs, poking the head of my cock against her entrance.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her breath becomes labored and shallow beneath me

when I slide my cock up and down her pussy. “Oh, god, I want you.”

I’m only too willing to give her what she wants and slip inside of her, watching her lips open

up and let out a moan mixed with a smile.

“I’m not kidding, Taylor. I think I’m developing some kind of a pregnancy fetish. Your body

has never been so sexy.”

She snorts, only to let out another whimper when I thrust into her harder.

“The hypnotizing way your wide hips sway, and your tits look as if they’ll spill out of your

bra. Your face glows and your belly is so fucking firm.” I move a hand down to caress it. It’s true.

Everything about her overwhelms my senses and every inch of my being. “And to think, my semen did

all that.”

“Have I made the biggest mistake of my life and married a creeper? Just like the guy who hit

on me at the grocery store yesterday. He said I took his breath away with my feminine figure. Who

says something like that to a pregnant woman?” she murmurs, her eyes closed.

“What?” I stop cold, unable to believe what she’s talking about. “Someone hit on you, and

you’re telling me just now? Who was he? Did you inform security?”

“Oh, no, Adam, don’t stop. I’m so close.” She grabs my buttocks and digs her nails into my

skin, pulling me against her, and I resume my thrusts, pumping back into her with rage against that guy

who laid his eyes on what belongs to me.

“You’re not gonna talk to any strangers any more. Do you hear me?” I whisper to her ear, but I

guess my words don’t make it through her load moan, as her entire body stiffens with an orgasm. The

way her pussy walls tighten around my cock sets my own release without further ado, and I arch back

as my load hits her cervix. I remember in the last second not to collapse onto her body and throw

myself over to the bed. Between my heavy breaths, I repeat my request, only to have her snort back at

me again.

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is talk to a pregnancy fetishist,” she says, with a

seductive smile on her face, and hugs me. Now it’s not only the feeling of her boobs but also the

pressure of her firm belly against my body that gets my heart racing wildly. And she claims pregnant

women aren’t sexy.

Wrapping her legs around mine, she snuggles in closely and begins rubbing her pussy, wet

with both our juices, against my thigh.

I prop my head on my hand and look down at her beautiful face. “What? I thought you

climaxed.”

“Climaxed, yes, but not yet finished.”

“What got you so horny?”

She grins mischievously but shares nothing that goes through her beautiful head. “I’ll get a

taste of your freshly fucked pussy if you tell me why you got hot again.”

Her eyes widen and slowly travel to mine, her cheeks red with the after-sex glow. I don’t

need any incentive to go down on her. My mouth is already watering to get a taste of her soft and

swollen folds.

“The pregnancy fetish thing might have gotten into me a little.”

“Ahhh.” I laugh. “So, you like your husband creepy.”

“I guess there’s nothing wrong with getting turned on by your own wife. And I must say my

boobs look great in shirts.”

“And in my hands.” I grab them, before taking one into my mouth and she returns to her pre-

orgasmic euphoric state just like that. My hand slides over her belly down to her pussy, lingering at

her entrance to get another whimper out of her. When she does, accompanied with a shiver, I move

down, licking every inch of her skin on my way. Her pussy is swollen and leaking my semen. I

massage her clit for a few seconds, while watching her face between the mountains of her breasts. As

soon as my tongue touches her clit, she wraps her legs around my head, pushing my tongue into her

opening.

She tastes incredible, despite my sperm, and I think that too has something to do with her

pregnancy hormones. Or the pregnancy fetish is really getting into my head.

“Oh, Adam. It feels so good. I’ll never let you do anything else.”

I continue licking and fucking her with my tongue until she screams my name over and over,

then she relaxes her legs, releasing me from their tight hold.

“I won’t be able to go to work today.” She rolls on her side and sticks my pillow between her

knees. “If someone asks why, tell him it’s your fault for working me up like this.”

Despite her obvious tiredness, Taylor accompanies me to the construction site. She’s going

with me instead of to the pile of work waiting for her at the office, only because it’s the first day of

the Berenson project and Mr. Hawkins will be joining us.

Bree insisted on joining us, although it’s not related to her duties, so I make a detour to pick

her up from her apartment building.

“Mr. Hawkins is so sexy,” Bree says as soon as she gets into the car.

I roll my eyes, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Good morning to you, too. For the

record, no flirting with any of our clients is allowed.”

“Like I didn’t figure it out myself. I can’t flirt with him if I want anyway. I become a bundle of

nerves around handsome men. I guess that’s the reason why I’m still single.”

“What happened with the bald hottie?” Taylor asks, making me turn to her in a flash.

“Which bald hottie?” I ask, and both of them start laughing at the same time, making me feel

déjà vu of the exact same scene with my twin sisters.

“Nothing,” Bree says. “He and I went out a couple of times, but then he stopped calling. As

unbelievable as it may sound, I guess I wasn’t his type.”

Taylor ignores my stare and turns to Bree. “He’s a fool if he thinks he’ll find a woman with

better qualities than yours.”

Waiting for an explanation as to who the fuck they are talking about seems like a waste of

time, so I press the gas pedal and drive toward I-5. We stop at a gas station so Taylor can pee, but

other than that the drive was quick, and we make it half an hour before the time Mr. Hawkins and I set

up to meet.

The site is empty, which makes me suspect whether we’re at the correct location. It has to be,

but no one from the subcontractor’s crew is there, although I specifically requested that the employees

arrive at eight to have enough time to inspect the material and prepare the tools, generators, and

equipment for Mr. Hawkins’s arrival and go over the details of the steps before officially starting the

project.

Looks like this new crew has different work ethics than the one I work with in L.A. Which

means I’ll have to spend a longer time at the construction site to make sure things go according to the

project timeline. A discomforting feeling in my gut tells me this has nothing to do with their business

ethics but is caused by a manipulator outsider who gets a peculiar kick out of causing us problems.

I do the only thing I can in this situation and phone the subcontractor. If he doesn’t know

where the hell his employees are, then no one will. His secretary puts me through as soon as she hears

my angry complaint. Under Taylor and Bree’s cautious eyes, I demand an explanation from the man

whom I saw only once. I should have met with him more than just once in order to tell if he was a

reliable person. Which would have saved me from the enormous embarrassment that I’ll have to face

when Mr. Hawkins shows up and finds no one working on his property.

The subcontractor claims not to have received the pollution control certificate and a payment

for leasing dozers. I, myself, processed the transaction for the rentals, and the certificate had been

mailed to his company address a week ago through Fed-Ex. My chest tightens, and I loosen my tie to

get some air into my lungs. Why didn’t he inform me about the missing documentation before, instead

of making me go through this stress?

I try not to show my anger to Taylor, to keep her nerves calm. She doesn’t need this kind of

stress, at least not when she’s vulnerable with pregnancy.

As soon as I find a scanned copy of the certificate and email it to him, I call Henry, from

accounting, to send me a copy of the payment transaction so I can forward it to the subcontractor.

Finally, after several minutes of arguing on the phone, the subcontractor accepts his mistake

and comes to terms with the demands of the project. He promises to get the entire crew and the

machinery ready for the afternoon, which still won’t save me from a disappointing meeting with Mr.

Hawkins.

I dial Chloe to give her a heads up about the delay and notice Taylor rolling her eyes. Before I

can speak, Chloe says her father can’t make it to the construction site today because of personal

reasons. She laughs as she emphasizes the word “personal,” making me think of an involvement with

a woman. He can take all the time in the world, at least until I sort out what kind of people are going

to work for the project.

I convey the good news to Taylor and Bree and watch their faces relaxing. I guess with the

time the two have been spending together, their expressions have become strikingly similar. I find

myself smiling, despite the stress, when Bree lets out a long breath of relief with the same over-the-

top way Taylor usually does it.

Despite Bree’s presence, I find myself moving toward Taylor and embracing her, desperately

needing the serenity her arms offer.

“I’d love to stay and get to know the crew, but I have a meeting with Henry at noon. We’ll be

going over the bookkeeping of the project,” Taylor says, leaning her head back to stare up at me.

“There’s no need for me to stay, either. I’ll just drive you girls back to work and come back in

the afternoon.”

Bree gets in the car and slams the door. “Oh, what a shame. I was excited to see the big

bulldozer.”

“Is that the nickname you picked for Michael Hawkins?” Taylor jokes as she follows her

inside the car, winking at me. I can’t help but laugh, in spite of the pressure pulling me down.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve got the feeling that he already has a woman in his life,” I

say and start the engine.

“That’s just a detail. A temporary thing until he sees me,” Bree says.

“Way to go, girl. I love your confidence.” Taylor turns and hi-fives Bree.

I wouldn’t really care if Bree hooked up with Hawkins any other time, but not when he’s our

client, which he’ll be for at least a year. So as not to ruin their good humor, though, I keep my mouth

shut, but I’ll have to talk to Taylor so she warns Bree subtly if this joke gets out of hand.

Taylor keeps her hands on her belly throughout the drive, making my heart swell with love for

her and our baby. It’s clear how much she wants it. A small part of me, though, is terrified that

something will go wrong, and she’ll end up fearful and traumatized. Women get to experience the

growth of the babies first hand, but they’re also the ones who’re hurt with deep scars when faced with

miscarriage.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Taylor chose to suffer alone after the

miscarriage, instead of letting me share her pain. I thought we were one in this marriage, but I guess

we still have a few miles to go, to get to where my own parents were in their marriage. Hand in hand

through the darkness and light.

“Hey, Adam. The road is ahead of you, not on Taylor’s face,” Bree says, pulling me out of my

deep thoughts. I shake my head, narrowing my eyes pointedly toward the rearview mirror, and slide

onto the exit for the interstate.

I decide to join the meeting Taylor is going to have with Henry, because I’ve been neglecting

the financial reports altogether for the past weeks. So unlike me. The delay of the project start wasn’t

actually too bad after all, and will help me catch up with the accounts.

As soon as Taylor settles on her chair in the conference room, she yawns, her eyes moistening

with tiredness. I guess I’ll have to stop having sex with her in the mornings, as much as I like it, so

she has some energy left for the work. Her hair falls in beautiful waves around her face like a thick

curtain, when she leans forward to examine the spreadsheets. I have to consciously fist my hands to

prevent myself from reaching out, running my fingers into those wild strands, and pulling her against

me.

Her cheeks and lips are a glowing pink. Something warm stirs inside me as I notice her large

breasts straining against her bra beneath her shirt. Her tongue brushes her lips ever so slowly, as if

she’s aware of her undeniable effect on me, and wants to torture me to no end. My desire to feel the

warmth between her legs again is making it hard for me to keep still in my seat.

Her lips move, and her eyes meet mine, the impact of those beautiful blue pearls quickening

my pulse. “Adam? Haven’t you been listening?” She flashes me an evil grin, biting her lower lip. Her

eyes flare with desire for the briefest second before her face turns serious, and she signals toward the

spreadsheets. “I thought you canceled the furniture purchase.”

It takes longer than a few seconds to get myself together and ignore my erection to focus on

her words. “Yes, I did. Why?”

“Looks like you didn’t because we’ve been charged with ninety-five grand,” Taylor replies.

“I sent them an email to cancel the whole thing. I thought it went through.” Henry flips through

the paper stuck in front of him, worry written all over his face, rightly so, because I personally asked

him to cancel it the day I found about it.

“Apparently not.” My voice is louder than I usually use with my colleagues, but there’s no

way I’ll tolerate losing such an amount of money for a stupid mistake. “Why didn’t you go after it?”

“Uh.” He stares at the papers as if he’ll find a sound excuse there. “It came around the time of

my vacation. I’d sent the email on the last day before my vacation started and left a reminder about it

to the temp who was going to take over during my absence.”

He’s right. I should have been the one going after the cancelation. I focus my attention back to

Taylor. “Have you heard from the furniture store in the meantime?”

Taylor shakes her head, her fingers drumming on the table. A nervous quirk. “Looks like

we’ve been swindled.” She pushes the laptop and points toward the online banking feed. “We were

charged that amount three times on the same day.”

“What the...” I stare at the screen with my mouth wide open. “Fuck. How did that happen?”

“They’re paid with checks.” She stands up and moves me aside to type on the keyboard.

“Let’s see whose signature is on the checks.”

Holding my breath, I wait for the page to load. No one would knowingly write three checks of

the same amount to the same store on the same day. “Taylor,” is all I can say when the signature

appears on the screen. I’d recognize Taylor’s signature from feet away, and this’s obviously hers. No

doubt.

“Oh, God. It can’t be. I didn’t write those checks.” She covers her mouth with her hand, when

she glances down at me. “It’s impossible.” She has no reason to pay that amount of money anyway.

“Then, what happened?” I ask.

Henry comes around to my other side and examines each scanned check one by one on the

screen. “It indeed looks like your signature.”

“It wasn’t me. I don’t remember signing any check.” Taylor plops herself back on her chair,

the color drained out of her face.

“I’ll call Bree,” I say and dial Bree’s phone. “After all, she’s the one who started everything.”

“Someone might have forged Taylor’s signature,” Henry says. “Someone who has access to

the company checks.”

If I had continued reviewing the payroll every Friday, like I used to do before finding out

about Taylor’s pregnancy, I’d have known about this problem in time to have acted on it. Bree

doesn’t answer, so I leave a voice mail, requesting her to come to the conference room ASAP.

Slipping my cell back into my pocket, I turn to Henry. “Thanks for now. Taylor and I will take

it from here.”

Taylor shifts in her chair, spreading her legs and pushing her belly up to a comfortable

position. “What are we going to do now?”

I reach for her hand to give it a squeeze and offer her a little comfort, despite the rage that

starts simmering inside me. As much as I try to give her a stress-free life, my efforts turn out to be

void each time. “Whoever he or she is might strike again. We should freeze all company accounts to

prevent further fraudulence.”

“Not much is left anyway on the account. That must be why the subcontractor complained

about not receiving the payment for the lease.”

“Good point. I’ll make sure to wire him the amount from my personal account.”

“Why?” Taylor frowns.

I know what she’s implying. That this isn’t my company, hence I’m free from its

responsibilities. But she’s wrong. My entire career depends on it, not to forget my shares and pension

portfolio. “Until we figure out who’s behind the scheme.”

“No, the involvement of your money may create complications with IRS,” she says, and I have

no choice but accept her reasoning. “Before doing anything else, though, we should call the furniture

store to demand the money back.” She types on the keyboard, searching for the contact information of

the store.

Never in a million years would I think someone among my colleagues would stab us in our

backs by stealing money that is earned with sweat and hard work. Each one of them is like a member

of my family, and I can’t even find it in me to suspect any of them. I’ll be damned if the thief is indeed

someone from one of us.

The most obvious two suspects, though, are Bree and Henry, since they’re the only two people

besides Taylor and me who have access to company accounts. But of course, someone with good IT

knowledge might hack the accounts and easily print out the checks from the software, then forge

Taylor’s signature. Bree was on sick leave for her broken her leg the week Henry left for his

vacation. How conveniently picked, especially because it was also one of the busiest times of the

year.

My emotions are pulling me toward suspecting the temp to be the one behind everything. Then

again barely out of college, she was a mere beginner and could hardly complete her duties, let alone

attempt a crime of this size, where she’d be the first one to have fingers pointed at.

Henry doesn’t exactly match the criminal profile either, with only a year or two left before

retiring and having spent more than a decade of his years in Edelman Constructions, working

efficiently and loyally and never complaining about late hours at the office.

I don’t even want to think of Bree stealing money from us. Jack granted her a scholarship of

over a hundred grand for her studies. Just that should be enough for her to stay loyal to the company.

And, she proved her loyalty over and over while Valerie was trying to get at Taylor. Hell, it was only

thanks to Bree, we could save Taylor from the fake suicide.

“I can’t find the contact information,” Taylor says, interrupting my thoughts. “The website

doesn’t seem authentic. Have a look at this. The address they give doesn’t exist according to Google

Maps.”

Life drains out of me, although I don’t know why I’m even shocked. I call Bree again, and

when she answers, I order her to the conference room. Must be the anger in my voice that makes her

show up in less than two minutes, despite the crutches she has to use to walk.

“Will you please explain to us how you came up with the idea of ordering furniture from a

fake store?” I ask, not making any effort to tone down my disappointment. I thought she was cleverer

than that.

“I received a call from one of the sales agents. She told me they were a new store and offered

discounts to get clients. She sent me brochures of their products. I don’t know, everything looked

legit.”

“Guess what.” I jump to my feet, unable to keep my anger in check. “The address where the

store should be located doesn’t even exist.”

Bree backs away from me instinctively, establishing a safe distance between me and her. Not

that I’d do anything to her, but I guess the aggressive aura that’s shielding me right now would scare

off anyone in a mile radius, because I’m not just angry at her but also disappointed with her

foolishness. Her face turns as pale as Taylor’s, and her voice trails down as she speaks, “What have I

done?” One of her crutches falls down, as she covers her cheeks with her hands.

“Yeah, Bree, what the fuck have you done? They stole more than a quarter million dollars

thanks to the purchase you ordered,” I yell.

“Tone it down, Adam,” Taylor orders, her voice covered with agitation, stands to hold me by

my elbow, pushing me back. “She might have made a mistake, but she didn’t steal the money.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re a quarter-million dollars short.” I run my hands

through my hair, anger coiling inside me.

“Let’s calm down for a minute and focus on a solution instead of barking at each other, okay?”

Taylor hisses between her teeth and motions toward the chairs. I snap the crutch from the floor to

hand it back to Bree and pull a chair for her to seat.

Taylor is right. I can scream and punch the walls ’til the sun goes down, but it won’t help a bit

with the problem.

“We have to freeze all the bank accounts, as well as the email accounts,” I say, with a

somewhat calmer voice.

“Sounds like a good step to begin with,” Taylor says, folding her hands on the table. “Bree,

do you still have the phone number and the email address of the store, or anything about them that can

help us locate them?”

“I think I have. Let me check.” Bree grabs her phone, and I don’t miss the tremble in her hand,

immediately regretting having poured out my anger on her. Minutes pass while she fumbles with her

phone, trying to find that goddamn number. She doesn’t dare to look at me when she says with a

quivering voice, “I don’t know what’s gone wrong, but I don’t have the number, neither the emails,

although I’m sure I saved the number on my phonebook.”

“All right. I’m calling the police. This’s more than we can handle internally,” Taylor says and

produces her phone in a flash. I don’t hear a sound from Bree, not even breathing, as we both watch

Taylor while she’s reciting our situation on the phone, without holding back a detail, including the

information about the outrages messages that came close to shattering our marriage from the

mysterious woman who claimed to be pregnant with my child.

Jesus, can the two things be related? What kind of shit are we dealing with here?

It dawns on me at that point. This is not just related to money or the new project, as I initially

suspected. It’s deeper than that. It’s personal, and another truth hits me like a blow on the chest.

Everything points to that. How I could miss that glaring fact is beyond me. The scheme with the phony

pregnant woman. The hindrances of both signing the contract, then starting the project. The stolen

money.

They are all aimed to destroy... Taylor.

11 – ADAM: When it rains…

Two detectives from LAPD take over our case, and I hire an external audit to go through all

the electronic and paper files to catch the rat among us. It seems the rat is more of a fox, because he

has wiped away his traces so cleverly that nothing comes out of a week-long intensive investigation.

The bank account that the company money was wired to turns out to be owned by a seventy-

five-year-old veteran from Illinois. It’s clear he wasn’t the one behind the scam. He must have been

victim of identity theft, as scammers usually prey on vulnerable victims, like elderly people. And,

since the money was withdrawn on the same day of the transfer, it’s going to be damned near

impossible to track it down, much less get it back.

I have easy access to a half-million cash in my account, but Taylor declines any financial

involvement from my side, and asks her financial advisor to sell stocks from her personal account to

provide the lacking money and some more for the company. Although I’m frustrated by not being able

to identify the thief, Taylor acts as if everything is back to normal when the audit consultants explain

the results. Basically their failure to find the criminal.

Taylor is talking on the phone to her adviser at the bank about the money she’s going to

deposit to the company’s account, while I’m behind the wheel on our way to the clinic. I can’t be mad

at her for not taking the case seriously. Right now, the missing three-hundred grand is the farthest thing

from my own mind, for today is the day we’ll finally find out the gender of our baby.

I’m almost sure it’s a boy, since Taylor threw up maybe once or twice in the entire twenty-

week pregnancy. My older sister, Adriana, had violent first trimesters with morning sicknesses during

all three of her pregnancies with my nieces. Eleanor, on the other hand, had a week or two where

morning sicknesses took her down while pregnant with my only nephew, but she was symptom-free

for the rest of the time.

As much as I wish to have a daughter, who’ll adore me just like Taylor does, I can’t deny the

pride I’ll have for a son who’ll continue my last name. I avoid voicing my thoughts to keep Taylor

from seeing my chauvinist side. She’s most likely aware of it by now, but I’d rather not give her more

material to mess with me.

She disconnects the phone and turns to me, her beautiful face shining with another gorgeous

smile. “I’ll go to the bank to sign papers for them to wire the money tomorrow morning. We should

have it in the company’s account by the afternoon, the bank consultant says.”

“Sounds good.” I keep my hands tight on the wheel, or they’ll find a way to land on Taylor’s

pretty face.

“You haven’t told me yet if you want a girl or a boy.”

She’s a witch, to be able to read my mind like that, to be able to spellbind me to her. “If I had

a say in it, I’d prefer a twin. A boy and a girl.”

“You said a boy first, so you want a son?”

“I didn’t mean that. You’re just twisting my words against me.” I shake my head. “How about

you?”

“I guess I’m more fitted to be a boy mom. I can easily picture myself playing with dirt and

going to soccer games. Besides—” she stops to give me one of her dangerously seductive glances,

making me consider pulling up so I can devour her. “I want a boy who looks just like you, with your

confidence and fearlessness.”

I’m definitely not fearless and, since I’ve been with Taylor, my fears have doubled, mostly

revolving around losing her along with the happiness I have with her, having her hurt, or worse

causing her hurt, not being able to provide her with what she needs, and so many other fears that I

have to consciously stop my mind from thinking so I can calm down.

After the last red light, I drive into the parking lot of the tall structure that hosts many medical

offices, including the clinic Taylor’s doctor works in. Dr. Fowler hasn’t disappointed me up to now.

She’s not greedy with giving information and also doesn’t judge when we prefer alternative options,

as we did for Taylor’s infertility problems in the past.

Taylor inhales a deep breath before grabbing the car handle, and I can’t help but smile at the

image appearing in my mind, of Taylor and our son playing soccer in the backyard of my dream

house. The size of the backyard seems to be a significant factor in choosing the right house. I can’t

wait for those days to come. Not with just one child, but hopefully more than two, optimally half

dozen.

I circle the car and help Taylor get out, watching the expanse of her thighs as the hem of her

skirt rides up. “We have another fifteen minutes until the appointment.” She arches an eyebrow at the

sudden lust that must be apparent on my face.

“I’d like to make sweet love to you afterwards when we have no time limitations. Maybe as a

celebration to knowing the gender of our son.”

She raises her hand, pointing her finger toward my face, her mouth open, lips curved up. “You

said son.”

Shit. I can’t hide it even if I try. “I want a son, but also a daughter, and several of them. But the

oldest should be a son so he doesn’t have to deal with a nosy older sister, like I did.”

“Oh, I see. But, then he’ll be way too overprotective to his sisters and scare away any

potential boyfriends.”

“Believe me, he won’t have a chance to do it as long as I’m around to do exactly that. If it’s a

girl, I’ll be shopping around for a good, long-range rifle.”

She punches me on the shoulder with her free hand, her eyebrows frowning. “Oh, shit. You’ll

be a nightmare of a father. Now I really want sons only.”

“If my girls look anything like their mother, we’ll have to invest big bucks for their

protections.”

She can’t get annoyed with me, when I mention her beauty. But seriously, if my daughters will

be at least half as beautiful as their mother, a lot of sleepless nights are ahead of me once they turn

teenagers. I avoid looking at her side to hide the seriousness of my face, but the tightness of my grip

around her small hand will probably give away my anxiety.

Becoming a father won’t be the garden of roses as I’ve been dreaming up until now. And the

potential boyfriends of my girls are just a part of the issues Taylor and I might and will have to face.

“Easy, darling.” Taylor pats on my chest in the elevator, looking up at me with her big, blue

eyes. “We’re a good team. We’ll survive it together.”

I grab her hand and bring it to my mouth, nodding with an uncomfortable smile.

The girl at the front desk welcomes us and collects Taylor’s insurance card, before motioning

us toward the waiting room. Another pregnant woman, possibly in her last weeks of pregnancy,

leaves Dr. Fowler’s office, saying something about the birth plan.

Oh, the birth plan. Taylor and I will have to start preparing one soon. The weeks are passing

by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday that we learned about her pregnancy. Now we’re already

half way through, and that not considering the possibility of an early birth. I might have my son in my

arms in just two months, and we haven’t bought a home for us yet, let alone prepare the baby’s room.

“Taylor, Adam.” Dr. Fowler offers us her hand, a genuine smile warming up her face. “Big

day, isn’t it?”

Taylor gets to her feet, taking her hand to shake, and I follow suit. Dr. Fowler asks a few

questions about Taylor’s health, then shows us to the room of the ultrasound. My knees go weak as we

step into the room. I won’t be able to wait the imminent seconds to find out what the baby’s gender is.

I hold Taylor’s handbag as she takes her position on the exam table. A tingling of jealousy hits

me when the male technician spreads a blue gel across Taylor’s wide belly, and I wonder if Taylor

feels any differently toward him than she’d feel toward a female technician. My hand finds hers

instinctively.

“Already placed your bets on the baby’s gender?” he asks, looking at Taylor.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” I say, not caring about appearing as a caveman.

The technician places a pad against Taylor’s abdomen. “We might not identify it if the baby

isn’t in the right position.”

“That’d suck,” I say, staring at the black-and-white screen. The technician moves the pad up

and down, left and right. My heartbeats increase by the second, but rather than telling us the gender,

the technician only stares at the screen. Our baby seems to be too shy to show its sunny side today.

“There’s a...” The technician doesn’t finish his sentence and just keeps on examining the

screen. I notice his expression isn’t cheerful anymore, and his eyebrows are knitted together. “Let me

call Dr. Fowler,” he says and excuses himself, leaving Taylor and me gaping after him.

Taylor’s hand tightens around mine, and I smile at her warily. “Where did Dr. Fowler find

him? I’d be able to find out about the gender fifteen minutes ago,” I joke to ease Taylor’s evident

tension.

“What if something’s wrong with the baby?” she asks.

“What can be wrong? This’s your third ultrasound. If something was wrong, they’d have

detected it earlier.” I wish it’s true what I say.

Dr. Fowler enters the dark room, and I notice the cautious note in her voice when she says,

“Let me take a look at it, too.”

I shoot an angry glance at the technician, for worrying Taylor over nonsense with his inability

to read the screen.

“What is it, Doctor?” Taylor asks.

Dr. Fowler swirls the pad around Taylor’s belly, ignoring Taylor’s question for a moment,

before turning to us with a serious face that can only mean bad news. “We’ll have to do some tests to

fully confirm it, but your baby...” She pauses. Goddammit.

“What is with our baby?” Taylor asks.

She glances at Taylor, then at me, and her eyes lands back at Taylor. “There’s no easy way to

say this, but your baby might have a birth defect.”

“What?” both Taylor and I yell.

“That can’t be true.” Four goddamn months have passed, and she detects it now?

“Please, calm down and take a look at the screen. Here—” She points at the middle of the

screen where, I assume, is the baby’s head. But I could be wrong, since it’s not very clear. “Her head

isn’t developing the way it should.”

“What does that mean?” I glare at the screen and bite my lips to stifle the curse that’s about to

come, when I notice the strange shape that barely resembles a circle.

“The top of the baby’s skull isn’t forming. Its technical term is Anencephaly, where the neural

tube fails to close early in the pregnancy and causes the malformation of the vault of the cranium and

brain,” Dr. Fowler explains.

“Jesus Christ. Does that mean our baby will be special needs,” I ask. The words burn my

tongue.

Dr. Fowler shakes her head, her face, though controlled, softens with an irritating twitch of

pity around her lips. “She’ll die as soon as she’s born.” My arms go loose with her words. “Only in

rare cases do the babies survive, but not longer than a few days. If your baby indeed survives, she’ll

be blind, and deaf, and won’t feel anything. She won’t be able to suck and will suffer respiratory

problems.”

“Is it a girl?” Taylor’s voice trembles, and I see tears welled up in her eyes.

Dr. Fowler nods. Forget about having a son to continue my name, I’d kill for a chance at

having my girl be born healthy.

“Normally, the female body takes care of such birth defects with miscarriage, but sometimes

as in your case, it doesn’t react to it the way it should and skips the miscarriage process.”

I get up, unable to look at Taylor as she’s crying, and rub my face harshly with my hands. My

little girl, my flesh and blood, won’t see the light of the day or feel how much we love her. Her best

bet is only a couple of days in complete darkness, and I can do absolutely nothing about it.

“What are we supposed to do?” I hear Taylor asking between sobs.

“Since she won’t be able to survive, and the pregnancy is a physical and emotional burden on

your body with or without a malformed baby, we usually suggest abortion to the expectant mothers.

However, an abortion is dangerous at this stage. That’s why the usual procedure is to induce labor

artificially.”

“Is this diagnosis absolute?” I ask, finally breaking my silence. “Can’t it be a mistake of the

machine?”

“You can of course see another doctor to be hundred-percent sure about it. I’ll order blood

tests, which usually detects any kind of irregularities regarding the birth defects.”

“Then, why the fuck didn’t you order that test before?” I yell, then spin around on my heels to

hide my face as sobs take over. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” I murmur, but I’m sure the doctor hasn’t

heard or understood any of my words.

How many stressful hours the stealing of the company money cost me... It was all nonsense.

All the pondering and worrying I sacrificed was for nothing. Those were actually some very happy

hours of my life in comparison to the hell I’m burning in right now.

A little girl without half of her head is awaiting her last day. Jesus. Couldn’t it have been a

malformation of an arm or leg? Why does it have to be a vital organ? What’s wrong with this world?

Who’s holding the reins up there in the Heavens? Apparently the devil itself, for causing yet another

pain to Taylor.

Hasn’t she suffered enough, first losing her parents at a young age, then the trauma about her

cousin? Not to mention Jack’s death and Valerie’s vicious attacks. The miscarriage only months ago.

How many more ordeals does she have to face?

I hear Taylor cry and the door close, but I can’t turn to face her. This must be the single most

crucial moment that she needs me at her side, holding her hand, but the raging anger inside me is

stopping me from moving.

The fuck with my husband qualities and my eternal love for Taylor. I’m just a pathetic sham of

a man, crying like a baby while she’s going through the trauma of her life just two feet away from me.

What caused this? Why didn’t the doctor explain it better? Is it genetics, exposure to x-rays,

malnutrition?

Oh, shit. As if my distance isn’t annoying enough, my stomach is revolting and I taste puke in

my mouth. If I don’t locate a bathroom immediately, I’ll mess up the room. My hand covering my

mouth, I rush out and head to the bathroom. The violent vomit doesn’t even take away a tenth of the

rage coiling through in my body. It shouldn’t have been us. We’re not murderers or abusers. We’re

good people, especially Taylor. Generous with both her money and emotions. She doesn’t deserve it.

Why? If only I knew why our girl had to die. Is it me? Is it our relationship? Aren’t Taylor and

I meant for each other as I like to believe? Is it Jack’s curse on me for stealing his wife? Or because

of the way I left Pat? Was my years-long pursuit of Taylor nothing but a depraved act that had to be

punished? Is that why Taylor and I can’t have a healthy child and instead have to find out about one of

the most lethal disorders through first-hand experience?

Anencephaly. Jesus fucking Christ. Just an hour ago, I wouldn’t able to guess what it meant

even if it was to save my life.

We won’t even be able keep her with us for a few days or feel the joy of being a parent. I

cried for days if not weeks after my mother’s death, but I could stand up and get my life back in order.

Having found out about the decree of my baby’s imminent death, however, is way more painful than

every other pain I suffered added together. I’d give absolutely everything I have, including my limbs,

for the health of that little girl whose face I’ll probably never get to see.

When I go back to the ultrasound room, Taylor is already gone. No wonder, since I spent

nearly half an hour in the men’s room. She’s not in the car either, which can only mean she called a

cab. I get behind the wheel and punch it with anger, feeling like an asshole for letting her suffer

through this pain alone. I should call her, or at least drive directly home, where she must be, to share

the pain and tell her this, too, will go away. But, how can I do that and more when I, myself, am far

from believing that crap?

This will never go away, even when our child is officially dead, her presence, together with

the absence of her head, will stay with us, between us, like an impenetrable wall. It’ll eat both of us

from inside out.

What do couples do when they lose their children? Seeing each other every day is a constant

reminder of the pain. Does it ever get easier? Do they ever manage to forget the pain and move on?

I stop at a liquor store to buy two bottles of Jack Daniels and drive without a destination.

After hours of driving, I find myself at the cemetery where Jack is buried. If it’s indeed Jack’s curse

on me, I have to ask, no beg, for forgiveness. If there’s a truth about what all the religions claim, he

must continue existing in some form, though I don’t know how his soul or whatever type his existence

is right now can help with my daughter’s malformation.

My daughter.

It sounds harsh to even think about the words. My precious, little daughter. Too vulnerable to

fight against whatever it was that caused the malformation.

No one, not even the wicked-minded Valerie would wish a curse like this on an innocent

child, let alone a saint, like Jack. I clutch at the Jack Daniels as my feet carry me toward his grave.

My friend, my brother.

He was a lucky one to die so young and spare himself the harsh realities of life. I open the

bottle and gulp down large swigs, despite the burn in my throat from throwing up.

Fuck medicine, fuck technology. The best invention mankind has had is alcohol. It might not

cure illnesses, but it sure helps ease the pain.

12 – TAYLOR: Help!

Adam hasn’t come home for the night. Which is just what I need. I can’t have him around and

remind him what I caused. Another baby can’t make it because of my body’s improper functioning.

I cry. I throw things. I scream the entire night. When I finally drop half-dead to the bed, the

apartment looks like a raid took place in it. I have to intentionally keep away from the knife set in the

kitchen, or broken glass, to eliminate the possibility of committing suicide, although my situation is

one of the few ones that’d qualify for a valid reason to go for it.

I have absolutely no fucking idea about the labor induction, with or without Adam by my side.

I need someone with me, someone who’s close to me but not directly affected by it. And definitely

does not blame me for it. I blame myself to death already. There’s only one person in the entire world

that fits the bill, and I’m grateful for having her. Lindsay, my sister.

I dial her, though it’s three in the morning.

“Hello,” she says sleepily to the phone.

“Can you fly to L.A. today?” I wish New York to L.A. took less than six hours because I need

her now.

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t say it on the phone. You have to come here. Please, make it today. Hire a private jet if

you must, but please don’t leave me alone today.”

“Taylor, tell me what’s going on? Did something happen to you? To Adam?”

“I’m waiting for you,” I say and disconnect, dropping the phone to the floor. I don’t remember

a single thing until I open my eyes and see Lindsay staring at me.

13 – LINDSAY: Back in L.A.

Growing up, I always felt jealous of Taylor. She got to have our mother to herself for five

long years. She’s the one who took completely after her, beautiful like a swan, while I’m a strange

mixture between my mother and father. My aunt, who took care of Taylor and me after our mother had

died, always favored Taylor and loved her as if her own, while I was treated as the black sheep. My

aunt must have been thinking I was the reason for my mother’s death, because she died while giving

birth to me. She wouldn’t be completely wrong about that assumption.

Then, as if touched by the lucky charm itself, Taylor married Jack, a gorgeous, young man who

wasn’t only rich, but smart and desperately in love with Taylor, too. And when Jack died, she

inherited Jack’s entire fortune and married yet another gorgeous man with qualities enough to drop

your panties, while the majority of the female species have to sort through crappy and selfish males.

How lucky Taylor was, I always thought to myself.

Until now, that is. Because seeing her torn into pieces for her baby makes me feel grateful for

my pitiful life.

I fix a cup of green tea and bring it to the bedroom, setting it beside her on the table.

“She had a strong heartbeat, you know?” Taylor says, pursing her lips together afterwards to

stop the threatening sobs. “I had big plans for her. I was going to name her after our mom and Adam’s

mom. Nancy Grace Doheny Garnett. I’d enroll her in lots of classes, the ones I wish you and I could

have taken when we were small. Dancing, painting, sports. I’d take her to museums, shows, and zoos.

I’d spoil her rotten with toys and dresses. She’d... she’d be loved.”

I wrap my arm around her and pull her in for a hug. Her head drops on my shoulder, and I feel

her tears soak my shirt. I’m not the right person to comfort someone in pain, but I suspect anyone

could do a good job in these circumstances. What am I even supposed to say? You’re young? You’ll

have other kids? How can I guarantee that?

“Why don’t you drink some tea?” I reach for the cup and bring it to her lips. She sips some,

brushing her lips, and then grabs the cup.

I hear the front door open and close and get up to see who it is, though I know it’s Adam.

Adam stares at me from the front door, then opens his arms for me to embrace him. Gone is the strong,

confident man I thought no one could compete with in the looks department. He’s broken and crawling

in pain, like an animal caught in a trap.

He smells of alcohol and the wind, but I hug him tightly anyway. His head settles on my

shoulder, despite the huge height difference, and I feel his body shake. It’s a cruel thought, but you see

the real faces of people when they’re at their worst. And I can’t imagine anything worse than this for

Taylor and Adam. My heart breaks for them, the two souls who wish nothing but a simple family life.

“How is she?” he whispers when he pulls back, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve.

“Just like you. Broken.”

“I couldn’t come home last night.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is she sleeping?” He slides out of his jacket, dropping it to the floor.

I shake my head no and follow him to the bedroom. He hesitates for a second before entering,

and then walks to the bed, his eyes on the floor.

Taylor leaves the tea cup and saucer on the nightstand and moves aside to make space for

Adam on the bed. “Where were you?” She avoids eye contact, too.

Adam shrugs and takes his place beside Taylor, his hands firmly on his thighs. “At the

cemetery, to visit Jack.”

“To ask for his permission to divorce me?”

Adam turns to Taylor sharply, and I fear since his face is of agony and anger. “Jesus, Taylor.

Why would you say that?”

“I... I’m no good for you. I can’t give you the family you want. You shouldn’t have married me

in the first place.”

“I didn’t marry you for your childbearing abilities. I love you, Taylor. When are you going to

finally acknowledge that?”

I should probably leave them alone, but Taylor’s pain keeps me paralyzed. I had no idea she

had doubts about herself, since she’s always been very confident about everything in her life.

“So, why did you go to Jack, then?” Taylor asks.

“For some silly reason.”

“I want to know.”

“Why?”

Taylor shrugs and gives a sideway glance at Adam.

“I wanted to apologize for stealing you from him. If this is some kind of a curse because of

him, I wanted to make it right.”

“You didn’t steal me from anyone. Besides, if there’s someone to blame for this, it’s me. I

should have followed Dr. Fowler’s recommendation and let my body rest for a few months after the

miscarriage, before trying for another baby. My body wasn’t ready for it; that’s why our baby had

no...” Taylor buries her face into her hands, as the sobs rack her body.

Adam wraps his long arms around her, resting his lips on her head. “That’s not the reason. I

don’t know what it is, but that’s not it.”

“I know it is.”

“For god’s sake, stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control. That’s life,

Taylor. If we could have a tiny bit of say in things in our lives, my mother would still be alive. And

so would your mother.”

All my self-composure dissolves at the mentioning of my mother, and I throw myself onto the

bed and hug them both, absorbing their tears and adding my own.

“We have to stick together,” Adam murmurs. “That’s the only way we can get out of this

disaster alive.”

“How are we going to do that?” Taylor pulls away, wiping her cheeks. “I mean, how are we

supposed to induce the labor? Did you talk to Dr. Fowler about the procedure yesterday?”

Adam shakes his head. “I hid in the bathroom for a while. When I was out, she was seeing

another patient. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to talk to her anyway.”

“I don’t know if I can let her go,” Taylor says, moving her hands down over her belly.

Adam stares down at where Taylor’s hands are petting, looking afraid to touch it himself.

“We’ll think about it.”

We all turn our heads when a phone rings. Taylor’s. She sighs, shaking her head, and grabs it

from the nightstand. “Yes... Yes, that’s right. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it today. Please

get in contact with Bree Anker at the office for the transaction... Yes, I authorize it... Right. Okay, I’ll

fax it right away... Thanks.” She tosses the phone on the pillow, turning to Adam. “I totally forgot the

wiring of the money was today.”

“Did you ask them to get Bree to do it?” Adam asks.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it a bit strange since she’s the one who got us into this mess?”

“This isn’t the first time the bank people are wiring money from my personal account to the

company’s. They have all the account details, so anyone from the company should be able to oversee

it. And Bree is the only one beside family whom I can trust my money with.”

Oh, they’re talking about that Bree, who saved Taylor’s life last year. I never liked her,

mostly because of the closeness Taylor felt for that girl. Like besties or even sisters. But, I guess I

deserve it, since I chose to live on the other side of the country, thousands of miles away from Taylor.

“Hey, I’m here to help you,” I say. “I can deal with work-related stuff, too, if you need a hand

there?”

Adam starts nodding, but Taylor waves her hand, signaling no. “Oh, no. You’ll not know what

to do.”

Ouch! “As you wish.”

“Shall I fix you a late lunch?” My eyes wander to each of them to get a reaction from them, but

I guess food is the last thing on their mind. “I’m a little hungry. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” I

kiss Taylor first, then Adam, and head to the kitchen, listening to their soft voices as they talk.

Taylor doesn’t know yet, but I’m unemployed for a while, long enough to consider moving

back to L.A.

I’d escaped to New York to start a new life and make new friends. Things didn’t turn out to be

as I’d initially hoped in New York. My boyfriend dumped me with my best friend. My boss at work

sexually harassed me, which in return earned him a five-year jail time after I’d sued him. The

settlement I received from the company for the harassment was good enough to keep me afloat while

hunting my next job. But it turns out, the news about the court suit spread around the city, and no one

wanted to hire me. I became un-hirable for speaking out for my rights against that jerk who couldn’t

control his fucking, finger-sized penis.

I don’t know how long Taylor is going to need me, most likely for a few months, until she can

start functioning without dissolving into tears. I’m planning to stay for as long as she wants me.

What a big mess she is going through. I can’t imagine myself in her shoes. I’m glad she’s not

letting go of my niece. At least for some time. There’d be another of us. A continuation of our parents.

We wouldn’t be just the two of us anymore. Maybe she’d look like my mother. A reflection of her

angel face on earth. Just like Taylor is.

Having children seems like the ultimate joy in our mundane lives, but anything that goes

wrong, even a slight problem, has the effect of a blow from a logging truck. That’s why I have to be

by Taylor’s side. Both for my sister duties and as a thank-you for all the support and love she showed

me while growing up. I had my aunt and my uncle as parents, but I wouldn’t be the same person as I

am today if Taylor wasn’t in my life.

A scream makes me jolt, and I drop the vegetables in my hands and rush to the bedroom to

find Taylor wincing in pain.

“What’s going on?” I leap to her side, checking her body for a sign of blood.

Another loud scream and Adam slips his arms beneath Taylor’s squirming body and lifts her

up. “We’re going to the hospital,” Adam says. “Get Taylor’s bag and a jacket for her.”

Before I know it, he ushers Taylor out, and I’m left with gathering Taylor’s belongings. My

hands shake with panic, as I grab Taylor’s handbag, phone, and jacket.

Taylor’s piercing cries die down to silent sobs in the car, and I watch her intently as she rubs

her belly. “I shouldn’t have cried the entire night; I should have rested so she wouldn’t have

unnecessary stress.”

“It’d take a stone-hearted monster not to cry at that news. Don’t beat yourself up with self-

blame,” Adam says, his knuckles brushing Taylor’s cheeks.

I have to look away when I see her tears as she says, “I don’t want her to die.”

She has to die, but neither Adam nor I have the guts to mouth that truth. An angel is about to

depart the earth, and all we can do about it is to suffer in silence.

Rather than going to the emergency, Adam drives us to the clinic of Taylor’s doctor. I met her

once in the past while accompanying Taylor. A composed, intelligent doctor in her early fifties. But

today, there’s nothing composed about the way she acts. She’s as emotional as a family member

would be and yells at her staff, while holding Taylor’s hand, as Adam carries her into the exam room.

“I’ve got a lot of pain.” I hear Taylor saying from inside the room, but I don’t dare to enter for

the fear of seeing her in blood. I have this dream, more a nightmare actually, where I see my mother in

blood from the waist down while giving birth to me. It takes me several days to recover from that

image. And I can’t, for the love of god, have another horrible image of someone I love covered in

blood. Besides, the room is full with all the nurses and the doctor bustling around Taylor, anyway.

After a minutes-long examination and arguing, Dr. Fowler announces that Taylor is not having

contractions as an indication of labor and everything is all fine with the baby—well, as fine as it can

be with her malformation. “Now that you’re here, would you consider inducing labor?” Dr. Fowler

asks, and I catch a glimpse of Taylor’s troubled face. She turns her eyes away and rests them on

Adam’s face.

He’s standing by her side, holding her hand between both of his own hands. “If you don’t

mind, Doctor, we’d like to postpone that for a bit longer. Taylor and I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“All right.” Dr. Fowler nods and asks the nurse to free Taylor from needles and cables. “You

can do it here at the clinic, at the hospital, or even at your home. Anywhere you feel comfortable with.

It won’t be nearly as painful as a full-term birth due to the small size of the fetus. But it’ll be a labor,

nonetheless, and too much bleeding or any other unexpected complication might end up as dangerous.

Not to forget the high hygienic standards that should be met to prevent any sort of infection.”

Adam nods, while Taylor’s head is low, her chin touching her chest.

“If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you two alone,” Dr. Fowler says before leaving

the room with her assistants.

I walk toward Taylor and hug her without caring about the tears running rampant from my

eyes. “Do you still have pain?”

“No,” Taylor whispers to my ear, brushing my hair softly with her hand. “I don’t know why I

can’t let her go. Do you think she feels pain in there?”

“Dr. Fowler said the part of her brain that detects pain hasn’t formed,” Adam replies.

Will that part ever form? Will her brain ever develop, even a tiny bit? It shouldn’t matter, the

logical part of me says. But to my heart, it matters. Knowing that tiny piece of Taylor can feel

something, even anything, feels more significant than money or career at this point. Funny how I got

attached to the baby even in the few hours of knowing about her existence. How terrible must Taylor

and Adam be feeling, having been excited about her for weeks?

God, if you have any mercy at all, you should give them power to come out of this ordeal and

help them heal.

A week passes, without any sign of contraction or labor, and from Taylor’s extra care on her

eating, I gather she won’t be going through the artificial induction. She and Adam spend the evenings

on their bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, murmuring and caressing Taylor’s belly.

Taylor hasn’t gone to work, except for one business lunch with the owner of a project they’re

working on. Mr. Hawkins, apparently an influential media tycoon, is now trying his luck in

residential-property business by converting a golf course into luxury residential homes in North L.A. I

remember applying to his headquarters in New York for a job only to get a dry rejection email.

Taylor acts surprisingly well to hide the hurricane that must be going inside her mind, and

Adam does his best to minimize Michael Hawkins’s interaction with Taylor, while we chat at the bar,

waiting for our table. Okay, I, too, do a thing or two to avert his attention from Taylor. It’s actually to

get his attention to me, because Michael Hawkins is a smoking-hot alpha male, despite his mature age

and from what I heard from Bree’s gossip, single, too.

Oh, yes, I’m clearly aware of the fact that Bree has her eyes set on Michael. Like, I didn’t see

it coming. I bet she wants him for his money only. Bitch.

Lindsay and Michael. Even our names match perfectly as opposed to Bree and Michael. A

definite scratch to the ears. I guess it would be a clever idea to leave him to Bree’s able hands,

though. He’s not just a few decades older than I am; he seems to have the exact attitude to play with

innocent girls like a rocket ball. And the last thing I want at this point of my life is a one-night stand

with a playboy.

After a few minutes of chatting at the bar, we proceed to the table, and Michael arranges our

seats so he ends up sitting between Bree and me, unfortunately across from Taylor, too. She tries her

best to act happy and interested in the silly conversation Bree has going with Michael.

“So, I heard you have two sons. I bet they don’t have half the charm you have,” Bree says,

brushing her hand on his shoulder. Okay, I might have imagined her hand on Michael’s shoulder. In

reality, it must be wandering south under the table cloth, judging by the high pitch in Michael’s

laughter.

“Zane has my eyes, but Christopher is all his mother,” Michael declares after his laughter.

“So, Lindsay—” Michael turns to me, and I feel triumphant for getting his attention without even

trying. “What made you give up on beautiful New York?”

“Unemployment. I pissed off the company I’d worked at so badly that no other business

wanted to hire me afterwards,” I reply, popping a piece of bread into my mouth, not missing Taylor’s

unusual peak of interest in the conversation. Shit. I haven’t told her anything about the lawsuit.

“Really?” Michael’s hand touched my elbow briefly. “Will you shed light onto what it is that

you did so I can take precautions if you start working for me?”

I turn to him, curiosity pulling my eyebrows together. “Are you offering me a job?”

“First tell me what you did, then I’ll consider it.”

I eye Taylor and notice how her eyes narrow, a clear sign of anger. I should have been

anxious, even scared for Taylor’s momentary annoyance at keeping secrets from her, but I feel rather

satisfied for distracting her attention from the constant worry over her baby. “I sued my boss for

sexual harassment and won. Apparently, as a woman, going after your rights and striving for dignity at

the work place isn’t something the recruiters appreciate deeply over there in New York.”

Michael laughs, and somehow it sounds really genuine this time, compared to the laugh he’d

given to Bree’s over-the-top compliment. “A feisty girl. I like that.” He produces a card from the

pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to me. His eyes crack at the corners as his face brightens with a

smile. “Call my assistant and tell him to set up an interview for you.”

I stare at him suspiciously, not missing Bree’s cold look toward me. “Just like that? You don’t

even know what I do, if I have a degree at all.”

“Let’s leave the interrogation for the interview, shall we?” He focuses his attention back to

Adam, and the two delve into some utterly boring details of the ongoing project.

I force myself, more than a couple of times, not to yawn, as I’m the only one who’s clueless

about the project. Even Bree joins the discussion more often than I’d have liked. Okay, I admit she’s

not a dumb slut as I’d have preferred her to be. Only downright annoying.

After the lunch, Adam, Michael, and Bree hand the valet their tickets, and Michael offers his

hand first for me to shake. “It was a great pleasure meeting you, Miss Doheny. I’ll be looking forward

to that call.” He winks, and I wonder what kind of call exactly he expects from me. A stunningly

beautiful, metallic-grey Bentley stops in front of us, and the valet leaves the car, opening the door for

Michael. Michael hurries to place his goodbyes before settling, in the sexiest way a man can have,

behind the wheel. I don’t dare look at Taylor’s face, since she won’t miss how my mouth is watering.

“I’d rather have that car than a condo in West L.A.,” Bree exclaims, waving her hand

enthusiastically at Michael. For once she and I have the same opinion on something.

Taylor slides her hand beneath my elbow, directing me toward the backseat of Adam’s car.

“You’re not going to apply for a job at any of Hawkins’s companies. Why didn’t you tell me you were

unemployed? We have an open post for a public-relations expert. It’s yours whenever you want to

start.”

“Baby,” Adam interrupts. “Why don’t we go have desert somewhere before heading to

work?”

I free my arm from Taylor’s grip, smiling at them both. “Yeah, you two do that. I’ll take a cab

back home.” I should give them a little space, since I’m sure they’re tired of having me as a constant

third wheel.

“You don’t need a cab. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go,” Bree says, and I shrug my

acceptance and wave my goodbyes to Taylor and Adam, as I collapse onto the passenger’s seat of

Bree’s Volkswagen Beetle. “Mind if we stop by my place very quickly before heading off to Taylor’s

place. It’s only five-minute drive away, and I need to pick up some documents for work.”

“Sure. Having plenty of free time is one of the perks of being unemployed. Cute car, by the

way.”

“Thanks.”

“Never thought of you as a Beetle girl.”

“Why? Which car fits my image better?”

“Don’t know. Something fancier... sexier. Like a BMW.”

“I’d love to own a BMW, but I don’t want to fall behind on mortgage payments.”

“That’s a valid argument.” I nod, envying the fact that she owns a home, whereas I live under

my sister’s roof.

“I think Michael likes you.”

I frown, not exactly sure if I like the change of topic, and it surprises me how easygoing she is

about Michael’s interest in me. I thought she wanted to wrap her claws all around him and never let

him sneak a glance at another woman. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Why else would he want to recruit you without knowing anything about your

qualifications? You shouldn’t decline his offer, not because he’s a super yummy guy, but for your

career.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“A help from someone in the top management is the single most important factor that

determines how quickly you’ll climb the ladder in an enterprise. I wouldn’t be where I am now, if it

wasn’t for Jack and Taylor. Having Michael on your side will keep you safe from the dicks in the

mid-management, too, if you know what I mean.”

I give her a knowing smile. “You’re absolutely right. I’d rather try it over at Michael’s than at

Edelman Constructions. I don’t want people behaving differently around me just because I happen to

be the sister of the company owner.”

“I wish I had your problem.” Bree breaks into a laugh, making me feel like a jerk. I guess

she’s not as annoying as I made her to be. She pulls up in front of a two-story home. “This is my place

until I win the lottery. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” I consider it for a second but

before I can reply, she adds, “Oh, wait. I have tea as well, if you’re a tea junkie like Taylor.”

“I guess it runs in the family.” I watch her gather her handbag from the passenger seat behind

and climb out.

Niceties aside, I’d have preferred sitting in the car and waiting for her than going to her home

with her. I can’t use having no time as an excuse after having just declared the generous amount of

free time I possess. She slams the car door, following me with her eyes as I climb out.

Yellow light floods from one of the windows as an indication of the existence of a roommate.

Bree shoots a cautious glance at me before pulling out her keys. I’m thrown a bit off balance, when

she rings the doorbell before inserting the key into the lock. It’s disturbingly suspicious, unless her

roommate walks around naked and Bree wants to warn her or him about my arrival. However, no

roommate whatsoever appears when she opens the door wide for me to pass.

The living room is dark, despite the yellow light I’m sure I saw just a minute ago, and I

hesitate to walk farther without her showing me where to proceed. As soon as she closes the door,

she hurries toward the windows and draws the curtains.

Okay, that’s one too many creepiness, and I won’t stay a second in this dark room, much less

drink tea with her. “I should really go,” I murmur and make a run for the door, taking advantage of

having her back turned toward me. I don’t know and will never know what Taylor sees in her, but

closing the curtains in midday isn’t normal.

I reach for the door handle and push it down. What the fuck?

It’s locked.

14 – ADAM: The imminent fall

I’m beyond content to be able to take Taylor out, even for a desert. I haven’t had a chance to

have her only for me since Lindsay’s arrival. Not that I’m complaining about her stay. She’s the rock

Taylor and I have needed to lean on during this rough period. But, I need my wife and her sole

attention on me every now and then. And from her cheery look, I can say she’s not thinking about the

imminent death of our baby at the moment.

My eyes roam down on her hand as it slides beneath her shirt, and my heart does a tumble.

“The skirt is too tight,” she explains when she notices my stare. “I can’t breathe in it.”

I order chocolate cake and ice cream and turn to her. “Something is bothering me about

Michael, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Taylor gives me a heart-warming smile. “Let me help you, hon. You don’t like how he flirted

with my sister, now do you?”

“A man of his age? That’s just wrong. I consider Lindsay as my sister, and the last thing I want

for her is to get hurt.”

“Let her make her own choices.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Did you notice Bree’s disappointment at the lunch table, while Michael was talking to

Lindsay?”

“No, oh, right. She was hoping to...”

Taylor bobs her head up and down. My ever-gossip-loving wife. “I guess she’s not really

happy about Lindsay’s visit. The other day she told me seeing me together with Lindsay made her

miss her own sister.”

“I didn’t know she had a sister.”

“She keeps a picture of her sister on her desk. Besides, she introduced her to us on our

wedding day. Don’t you remember? Her sister was there with her partner.”

I try to remember one of the happiest days of my life, and it feels very long ago. The burden of

our baby’s malformation has taken years from my life. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything about

anyone that day, except for you.”

“Oh. Aren’t you the sweetest?” She moves her hands and covers mine. “Wait a second. I think

her sister’s name was... Helen. No, Heidi. And her partner’s name was Annette Greene.” Her eyes

widen in an instant.

“You’re kidding me. That’s the name the private investigator gave us of the woman who

worked at Del Piero Constructions and hung out at the same gym with Valerie.”

Taylor lifts a hand up to cover her now-wide-open mouth, while her other hand clutches on

mine. “That explains how she knew about the timelines of the Berenson project. It shouldn’t be

difficult to get those tidbits out of Bree, considering how much info she spills without thinking.”

“That’s insane. Bree might have a big mouth, but she wouldn’t give away those details. If

indeed she’s the culprit, we need to limit her access to confidential data.” Which is basically

everything.

“Not before having a serious conversation with her about it,” Taylor says. “As soon as she

realizes it was her mistake, if it was her mistake at all, she’ll be more cautious. I’m sure.”

It’s not a light matter to be solved just by talking, but Taylor doesn’t need the stress of the

work in addition to the one inside her belly.

Her expression changes from shocked to sorrowful, when the waitress comes with our desert,

and I notice why. The waitress has a visible belly bump, just like Taylor’s.

Gasping softly, she drops her eyes onto the desert plates. “You must be dying to know what

I’m planning to do about the baby.”

I nod and reach down for her belly, caressing it slowly. “Every new day is a burden on your

body.”

“I know.”

“And risky. The possibility of encountering a complication increases as the pregnancy

progresses.”

“You sound like Dr. Fowler.”

“Because that’s what she told me. I don’t want you to suffer more that you are already

suffering. If something was to happen to you—”

“Nothing will happen to me.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No I can’t, but I want nature to take over and terminate the pregnancy on its own time. Maybe

our baby wants to have a little more time with us, and I can’t, for the love of god, take that away from

her.”

How can you argue with that? I drop the argument, as always I do when it comes to her

reasons for not wanting to end the pregnancy. She concentrates on the desert in front of us and finishes

them both without letting me get a bite.

“Don’t you need to go to work?” she asks, when she catches my hypnotized stare on her

glowing face. With our baby’s loss, I’ll be losing the exceptional luxury of watching all the beauty the

pregnancy has brought upon her, not to mention her joy.

Leaving a twenty on the table, I grab Taylor’s hand and pull her up close to me for a kiss. I

suck her lips like my life depends on it. She’ll be going through another trauma when the pregnancy

ends, naturally induced or otherwise. She’ll be crashed and suffering with another heartbreak, bigger

than the one she had after Jack’s death, and grieve after our baby for I don’t know how long. I’m not

ready to throw her down into that pit of hell again.

15 – TAYLOR: Enemy at the door

Adam drives me home before going back to the construction site. I don’t miss the longing

that’s tainted with pain his eyes radiate as he kisses me goodbye. I stopped blaming myself a few

days ago for the malformation of our baby. I can blame everything under the sun, pray and beg God

until my hair grows white, but nothing will change about my daughter’s health condition. She’s

doomed to die, even before oxygen can fill her lungs. The only reason that’s keeping me together is

her existence; that she’s still inside me and with me.

And the fact that despite her condition, she’s not giving up on me. She’s her daddy’s girl, all

right. Her persistence can put us all to shame.

My hands rest on my belly, as they do the majority of the time, and I enter the elevator, hoping

Lindsay will be at home. I feel helpless if I have to stay alone and fear the possibility of the onset of

the labor. I don’t have an emergency plan besides calling a cab or 911. That’s why I should keep my

phone with me at all times, even while in the bathroom.

As I enter the apartment, the silence disappoints me. Lindsay usually spends her days in front

of the TV. That there’s no TV sound means she’s out, perhaps shopping at a mall or catching a movie.

I fish for my phone and toss the handbag on the couch, before settling on it myself.

An email alert makes the phone buzz in my hands; I open my inbox reluctantly, and click on the

email titled with “Statement Ending” from my bank account. It takes several minutes until the

statement page loads, so I busy myself with the TV.

A tiny but sizable current courses across my belly, and I wonder, paralyzed, if it’s my baby

moving inside me. Some women claim to feel their babies move as early as sixteen weeks. I wouldn’t

be surprised at all if my girl has decided to show her mommy the strength of her kick.

How am I ever going to let her go? My eyes dampen with tears, and my heart aches for the

inevitable moment that I’ll have to lose her forever.

The page finally loads, and I start going through the bank transactions in the company’s

checking account. Shocked is an understatement for what I feel when I notice the entire account

balance is zero dollars. The two-million dollars that I’d ordered to be wired from my personal

savings is all wiped out? Oh, my god.

The day I was supposed to wire money to the company’s account comes to my mind, and I

flinch with physical pain. Bree. I trusted my finances to her, and now I’m facing an account emptied to

the last cent. She was the one who brought this mess upon us in the first place, and I was dumb enough

to trust her for a second time with even more money.

What should I do now? Call the police, or my consultant at the bank, or Adam? With my hands

shaking, I start dialing Adam’s number, but my call is stopped with an incoming call.

From Lindsay. Good. She can help me calm down at least.

“Lindsay, are you on your way home? Please, come now.”

“She’ll take a while before she can be there,” a familiar female voice says. But it can’t be.

How? Isn’t she? “Did I shock the life out of you?”

“Valerie.” How does she have Lindsay’s phone? “Oh, god. Where’s Lindsay?”

“She’s right here with me. Only for a short time, though, because I’ll cut her limbs one by one

and throw each of them into a different dumpster, if you don’t show up here within half an hour.”

“Valerie, please.” I shriek. “She’s innocent. I’m the person you want.”

“Well, then, let’s do a little exchange. Come over here with the passwords for all your bank

accounts, and I may let her go. No calling the police, no informing that stupid ass of your husband. I’ll

know if you call anyone.”

I hear a click and the line goes dead. I stare at the phone and remember the words of the

private investigator that Adam hired, about our phones being bugged. We replaced the phones since

that incident with the project, but Valerie might have managed to corrupt the new phones as well.

A beep shakes my phone in my hands, and I open the message to read the address I’m

supposed to go to so I can save my sister.

God! How did she end up in Valerie’s hands?

Because of Bree? Is she now Valerie’s accomplice? But, she saved me from the suicide

scheme. Was that heroic act actually a part of their plan? After all, labeling me as suicidal would

have served Valerie’s final goal to take over Jack’s heritance, if she’d succeeded killing me at the

end, and could have shown my death as an accomplished suicide.

Adam had called Bree that day of Valerie’s attack to ask her to stay with me while he was

gone for work. Bree knew I’d be alone and physically vulnerable because of my stiches. Those two

hours would be the perfect time to finish me off, if only the LAPD detectives hadn’t paid a visit to

Adam’s apartment.

Both Valerie and Bree must have waited all this time to come up with a new plan. They’re the

ones behind the robbery of my bank account. I have no doubt about it. Bree caused that first financial

problem with the furniture purchase in order to get into my personal accounts. How foolish was I to

trust my money to her? And now my sister is in their hands.

I grab my handbag and rush out as fast as I can with my huge belly. Valerie won’t be having

only Lindsay and me in her hands, but my baby, too. I don’t believe even the slightest bit that Valerie

will let my sister go once I show up. That’s why I look for a paper and pen, scribble a note on the

paper, and squeeze it into the doorman’s hand.

“Call Adam Garnett and tell him Valerie has my sister, and I’m going to meet her at the

crossing of Crenshaw and Slauson,” is written on the piece of paper.

I stare at the doorman’s eyes with silent pleas, hoping he will act quickly, and then pace out to

catch a cab, since I can’t drive in my feeble condition. I jot down a similar note for the taxi driver to

get him to follow me—if Valerie gave this address just to pick me up and drive somewhere else—

and add Adam’s phone number to my request. The driver stares at me curiously when he notices my

note below the hundred-dollar bill. As soon as I leave the taxi, though, he drives off, leaving me

cursing after him. Didn’t he understand my request?

As I guessed, Valerie is waiting for me inside a black Ford at a gas station a few feet away

and crooks a finger toward me. With my hands firmly clutching my handbag and phone, I take quick

steps toward her car.

Valerie motions toward my bag and phone. “You’re going to leave them on the sidewalk.”

“The passwords?”

“Take the passwords and the bank information, dump the rest.”

I do as she says and grab the folder with my bank information, leaving my bag and phone

under a tree on the sidewalk after switching off the phone.

I pray silently for help for the innocent child I carry and for my sister, before climbing into the

car. My hands tremble while I reach for the door. Never in this one and half years have I thought I’d

come as close as a mile to Valerie again.

As soon as I close the door, Valerie grabs the folder from my hand and hits the gas pedal. “I

hear you’re carrying a freak,” she says with a stomach-revoltingly disgusting smile across her face,

turning my fear into an all-consuming rage.

“You killed your own father and your own brother, and you’re talking filth about an innocent

child? You’re the only freak here,” I say.

I don’t see her hand but hear and feel it when it punches my head, pushing me against the

windshield with the power of it. My head throbs at the spot where it hit, and I turn to her, shocked.

“If you don’t watch your mouth, you won’t leave this car alive, do you hear me, bitch?” She

glares at me, probably waiting for me to nod, but I won’t give her that satisfaction. “I’m doing you a

favor, in reality,” she says when I don’t respond. “I will release you from the curse of the money that

doesn’t belong to you. It’s my money. Not yours, and as long as you keep it under your ownership,

you’ll have nothing but miscarriages and freaks as children.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss between my teeth. “If you were a normal person like you claim to be, and

not a freak, you’d have gone to Jack directly and asked for your share from the inheritance like a

civilized person. And he’d have given it to you. But, no! You had to plot attacks, kidnapping, and

murders to get what you want.”

“You’re just saying it now. Neither Jack nor you would have given me a dime if I’d asked you

directly. Now you have a brainless child. Like the mother is the daughter.”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!” She slaps my head again, but this time I’m quick enough to cover my head to

protect it from a possible hit. It’s probably not a good idea to get on her nerves, but what am I

supposed to do when my daughter is the one attacked?

I keep my mouth firmly shut as she drives south. I try to breathe deeply and slowly to calm my

infuriated heart. The alertness of my body won’t be good for my daughter. Valerie won’t be good for

her, either. I don’t even want to think what she has in store for us. She might have had some sense

before. But after staying in the psychiatric ward for so long and being exposed to the worst kind of

mental illnesses, the little sense she had might have ended up being fucked up.

She stops the car in front of a line of houses that actually look very welcoming. A couple

walks past the car with a stroller and nods at me with a smile as I get out of the car. I’d scream for

help if Lindsay wasn’t held hostage, so I do the only thing I can in this situation and follow Valerie

into one of the houses. She unlocks the door and waits for me to walk in.

My knees shake with fear, and I come close to collapsing on the stairs, but Valerie’s stern

glare keeps my legs stable enough to move. She pushes me inside when I reach the doorway and

closes the door behind me. Grabbing my wrists, she pulls me with her toward a door, which opens to

the basement. I hold on to her tightly to keep from falling down, while we walk down the stairs in the

pitch dark.

My feet hit a mass in front of me, and I stop to look down at it, although it’s too dark to see

anything. “Lindsay,” I shout and kneel down to feel the body that’s blocking my way.

Lights flicker on, and I squint against the blaring brightness.

“Say cheese to the camera. I’ll be recording every detail to send to your dear husband later

on.” I see Valerie adjusting a video camera hanging on the wall. No, clearly she’s not planning to let

any of us go alive. Unless Adam arrives here in time, which I doubt since the taxi driver was my only

hope, I can’t see how I’ll get to free Lindsay and myself from Valerie’s bloody hands.

A muffled yelp forces my attention back to what I have in front of me, and I see Bree’s face.

Taped mouth, tied hands and feet, and covered with dry blood. And an instant feeling of guilt engulfs

me. She’s trying to tell me something behind the large tape around her lips.

My eyes roam toward the other body a few feet away from her. I can’t see her face because

she’s facing down. My heart stops when I recognize the t-shirt and jeans.

“Lindsay,” I shout and leap over Bree to get to my sister. Lindsay is lying without moving, her

eyes closed, and she doesn’t react to me when I shake her with all my might. “Did you kill her? Did

you fucking kill my sister?” I shout again and notice Valerie occupying herself with yet another

victim. I recognize immediately who she is, despite the blood covering half of her face. Bree’s sister,

Heidi. Valerie must have used Bree through her sister.

Valerie produces a gun from the pocket of her jeans and points it toward the poor girl. Just

when I’m thinking she’s bluffing to get the passwords of my bank account, she unloads the gun into the

mouth of the girl.

Without even blinking an eye.

Bree throws herself forward and falls face down onto the cold granite. I stop in my place,

shock and fear preventing the air from flowing into my lungs. I know I must say something or shout at

Valerie to end the killing spree she must be planning, but my tongue remains frozen. Even when

Valerie strides toward Bree and grasps her hair with force, I can’t bring myself to move.

“Do you want to know why I killed your fucking sister? Huh, huh?”

Bree cries frantically, and I drop to my knees, noticing the fresh, flowing blood on Bree’s

nose. “Please, Valerie,” I beg. “Don’t hurt her. You don’t need to kill anyone. I’ll give you everything

I have, until the last cent.”

“Of course you will, bitch. Did you have a doubt about it? And don’t think for a second this

fucking whore is innocent. She stole money from you without batting an eye. I mean, I go after the

money that legally belongs to me, but she just embezzles whatever she can from everyone. Even from

her own mother. Not just that, she tried to come between you and Adam. She hired Candice

Sherylwood to scheme the pregnant-girlfriend trap. She knew you had jealousy issues, and she didn’t

shy away from playing tricks with your mind,.” Valerie barks, shaking Bree in her hand, then turns

down to her. “Do you know why I killed your sister? Do you fucking have any idea? Huh? Huh?” She

smacks Bree down, and I hear a thud as soon as Bree’s head hits the floor. Thief or not, no one

deserves to be manhandled by a psycho.

“Please, Valerie. Let her go,” I beg, but my barely audible plea goes unnoticed, because

Valerie begins throwing kicks into Bree’s stomach, making her bend over with pain.

“Because she betrayed me,” Valerie says in sync with her kicks. “You’re next because you’re

guilty for the same reason. Haven’t I made it clear from the beginning that I wouldn’t stay in the ward

for more than a week? Huh, fucking cunt, answer me? I trusted you two to get me out of that fucking

rat hole but you sluts took your precious time, like you always do. Yeah, I’ll kill you now because of

the four-hundred seventy-three extra days of mind fucking I had to endure because of your inabilities.”

Valerie pushes the gun into Bree’s mouth, and I remember instantly the taste of the cold metal

in my mouth when Valerie tried to kill me last year. The room starts floating as an excruciating pain

knocks me down, and I lose the control over my body.

The last thing my mind registers is my hands wrapping my belly and a deafening sound.

16 – LINDSAY: Iron Slap

It’s the same nightmare again. My mother is lying lifelessly on the floor, covered in blood

from the waist down. My mind won’t be able to survive this torture anymore. The image is too vivid,

too painful. I squeeze my eyelids closed so the image will disappear, and magically it... does. How

come? I open my eyes again, and my mother is still there, beside me in a blood lake.

It’s not a nightmare, is it? And the woman covered in blood isn’t my mother.

It’s Taylor.

She’s lying there as if life has escaped her body for good, leaving it soaked in warm blood.

Exactly the way it is in my reoccurring nightmares. All those years when I thought I was seeing my

mother’s death, it was actually Taylor’s.

She’s dying, and I can’t do anything about it.

The minutes before I ended up in this basement hits me with all its clarity. Bree invited me in,

locked the door behind, and Valerie showed up, holding a gun in her hand. The last thing I remember

is the sudden pain at the back of my head when Valerie hit me with the gun and Bree’s evil smile.

Taylor is lying there because of my carelessness. If I hadn’t followed Bree in, none of this would

have happened.

If I hadn’t been born, my mother would still have been alive.

I try to move my hand to reach for her, but my hand jerks back as a piercing scream reaches

my ears. My neck hurts when I suddenly turn to see the source of it. It’s Bree, crying helplessly in

Valerie’s hands.

A fury, an uncontrollable rage hits me like a blow, resurfacing the very core of every

emotional issue I’ve had to deal with —and mostly tried to suppress— since the day I found out the

reason for my mother’s death, and saw the pain that everyone who had close contact with her had to

live with.

My mother’s short life ended because of me, although I was just a baby, an innocent newborn.

But God help me if I let another person die directly or indirectly related to my mistakes.

I don’t feel anything, I don’t even notice when I jump up to my feet and march toward Valerie.

She doesn’t see me. I wouldn’t be able to see myself either, because I’m walking too fast, too silently.

Like a wild beast circling its prey. And the next thing I know is my hand, gunned with all the anger

that I’ve carried inside me for years, launching at Valerie’s head.

She doesn’t just stumble with the force of my punch. She flies across the room and bangs into

the wall head first. She doesn’t fall down either, for an iron hook, larger than my forearm, slides

through her face and exits on the other side of her head, keeping her hanging on the wall like a

mounted animal. I couldn’t have aimed it better if I’d planned on killing her with that hook. My

warmest kudos to the one who chose the hook for a decoration.

Valerie’s last breath comes out as a pathetic wiggle. Other than that, she dies pretty quickly,

too easily for a murderer of her capacity.

I ignore Bree, who’s crying hysterically and rolling on the floor, and run for my sister.

“Taylor, open your eyes.” I check her head and chest for a bullet hole to rule out the

possibility of her being shot, and when I make sure the source of the blood is between her legs, I roll

up her skirt. A gush of blood combined with a large blood clot makes me gag.

“Taylor, get up,” I yell and shake her body. When I take off my t-shirt to wash the large clot

away, I notice what it actually is.

The tiniest fingers I’ve ever seen jerk beneath a blood-filled sack. I swallow hard, waiting,

because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t take my eyes away even to look at Bree, who’s sneaked

her way beside me, her arms still tied behind her. She murmurs something I don’t understand behind

the tape covering her mouth, and I yank her aside. She’s a nobody, a criminal, and clearly doesn’t

deserve to witness an angel’s birth.

I slip the t-shirt beneath the baby and wipe the blood away as much as I can. She’s so small, I

can carry her in one palm alone, but I hold her carefully between both hands. Her large eyes start just

where her head line ends. Her skin is a dark hue of purple, her body flaccid. Even so, she’s the most

adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I dip my head down to listen to her heart, though I

know it’s a hopeless case, since she has neither cried nor moved.

At that moment, Taylor opens her eyes, as if she’s felt what’s going on. As soon as she

realizes what I’m holding in my hands, tears begin surging down her cheeks.

“She’s dead.” She’s not asking. She knows the answer. And I realize, once again someone has

died because of me, although her days were numbered from the start.

“I’m sorry,” I say, unable to control the powerful sobs. Taylor extends her hands toward me,

and I hand her the tiny, lifeless girl. She stares, astonished at the little form now lying peacefully in

her hands, before tugging her against her heart, where she’ll continue living for the rest of our lives.

Bree rolls down to my feet again and starts banging her head into my calves. What a bitch!

Won’t give me a moment to take in the last minutes with my niece.

“What?” I shout and strike her head hard, causing her scream harder with the pain. “Leave us

alone.”

“Lindsay,” Taylor interferes. “She’s trying to say something.”

Bree bobs her head up and down, and I reach down and rip the tape off of her mouth.

She squalls from the impact of it, and the skin around her mouth glows red. “Bomb,” she says

between short, loud breaths. “Valerie set up a bomb here, and it activated when she hit the wall.”

“I’m not going to fall for another trick,” I say. “You’re lying to get out of here. But, I’ll make

sure to hand you over to the police with my own hands.”

“No, no, no. I swear I’m not lying,” Bree says, frightened. “Listen carefully, you’ll hear the

beeps.”

I do, at least to keep her mouth shut, and as she claimed, I hear a high-pitched sound from afar.

Then again and again. “It’s true.” I turn to face Bree. “Do you know how much time we’ve left?”

“I don’t know. She set it up after tying me up. I didn’t even know she had a bomb until I saw

her attaching it to the wall.”

“Where?” I yell, even so my voice can’t overpower the beeps of the bomb now. How didn’t I

hear it before? We’ve lost a lot of time that we could have used to get away.

She points with her chin toward the shelves above Valerie’s corpse. “Inside that blue bucket

over there.”

“Taylor, can you get up?” I ask.

She presses the lifeless baby swaddled in my shirt against her chest and uses her other hand as

leverage while trying to get on her feet... and fails. I jump up, hook my hands under her armpits, and

pull her up. She feels heavy like a truck, but I manage to get her on her feet. Might be my imagination,

but the beeps become faster. An indication that the bomb will go off soon... too soon.

Bree’s hands are tied behind her. Shit, her ankles too.

“You help Bree, I can walk by myself,” Taylor says, and I launch forward to help Bree up.

Bree fights my hands, rolling away from me. “No, don’t help me. I’ll stay here. You go. Save

Taylor.”

I move forward and wrap my arms around her waist. “You’re going to die.”

“I don’t want to live. I don’t want to rot in prison. I’ll die as I deserve, here with my sister.”

“Shut up,” I say and lift her up. Taylor is already climbing the stairs. The blood-covered sight

of her rear revolts my stomach. There’ll be nothing but blood, if we can’t make it out of here in time.

Sweat drops sneak down from my forehead despite the cold air in the basement, and to my utter

shock, Bree is still fighting against my hold, making it so damn difficult to carry her.

“I want to die. Let me go. I don’t want to let my sister be alone.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not leaving without you.” I shake her to get some sense into her fucked-

up brain, and she cooperates, jumping the stairs one by one inside my hold.

Taylor fumbles with the heavy door but manages to open it, and once we’re out of the

basement, I kick the door closed and run toward the front door as fast as I can, with Bree jumping

beside me.

A sudden burst of hot air shoves us all forward, and an excruciating pain spreads through my

face when I land against the front door. Another explosion follows, and fire starts instantly. I scan

around in panic for Taylor and find her a few feet away on my left side. Bree is lying on the floor

beside me.

My hand feels for the door handle, and relief rushes over me when I turn it and it unlatches.

Taylor stands, gives me a hand to get Bree up to her feet. All three of us lurch forward with the

impact of another explosion.

Against all the odds, we make it. Taylor and I have just survived a bloodthirsty, sadistic

psychopath and could get out of her deadly trap. Staring at the enormous fog and the wild burst of

flames, I feel, if we could accomplish that, there’s nothing that can ever take us down.

17 – ADAM: Give in to me

The day I lost my first-born child and came close to losing Taylor is also the day I saw her

true strength. I arrive at the crime scene where Valerie held Taylor and Lindsay hostage, together with

the police cruisers. Firefighters flow in from all sides to take the raging flames under control, and I

see paramedics placing my wife on a stretcher. Her arms are wrapped around her upper body.

Guilt pinches at my heart for leaving her alone today, more so with the sight of the dried blood

on her clothes. Is she hurt? Did Valerie touch her? I rush to her side, meet her frightened gaze, and

notice she’s pressing something against her chest. My hands lift up in fists, before they can make any

contact with her.

“Is that our...” The words stick in my throat and burn my tongue. She shouldn’t have gone

through this alone. Valerie’s assault is something, but giving birth to our dead child without me and

with all the pain attached to it shreds my heart into pieces. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

She bites her lower lip, but tears flow freely over her cheeks. “She’s dead.” She loosens her

hold around her body and opens up her hand that carries our baby.

At least, I think that’s our baby, because nothing is seen clearly inside the blood-covered t-

shirt. And I can’t, for the love of God, look at it directly without having my heart slashed into pieces.

“She’s in Heaven,” I say, leaning down to kiss Taylor’s head. “With our parents.”

The paramedics hurry her into the ambulance and transport her together with Bree and Lindsay

to a local hospital for evaluation, while I follow them with my car.

Two police officers show up at the hospital to collect their statements regarding the

kidnapping. A doctor writes up a birth and death certificate for our baby, and a nurse gives her back

to us in a tiny box.

When everything is settled and Taylor is released from the hospital, we head directly to the

cemetery where Taylor’s mother rests to bury our baby beside her grave. I’ve already arranged to get

a stone prepared with her name and date of birth and death on it. It hurts me that she’s one of the rare

angels whose dates fall on the same day.

I find out about the truth behind Bree’s involvement in the kidnapping, and not the distorted

version Taylor gave in her statement. How Bree made a fool of both Taylor and me, the two people

who stood by her no matter what, is beyond belief and will without a doubt make it hard for me to

trust another person as much as I did Bree.

The money she tried to steal from Taylor and the company, the filthy tricks she played to

estrange us. Is that really the doings of that sweet colleague I grew to like as if she was one of my

own sisters?

Instead of letting her languish in jail for the rest of her life as she deserves, however, Taylor

decided Bree had had her punishment by witnessing the death of her sister and didn’t give away her

connection to Valerie during her statement.

With a condition, though.

Only if she leaves California and never comes back. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Bree

while police took their statement, but the terror I saw in her eyes while Taylor recited what she

remembered from the incident assures me Bree won’t even mouth the word California, let alone come

within a mile of its borders.

The fact that my wife, the better half of my soul, has made such an immense decision while

still suffering from the death of our child and having come close to death herself, both humbles me

and makes me feel proud for having such a strong person as my partner in my life.

She might be physically smaller than me, but the size of her heart makes up for the difference

and more, and I can only look up to her and strive my best to be as wise and generous as she is.

Days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Both our birthdays and then our wedding

anniversary go unnoticed because of the pain both Taylor and I suffer.

Lindsay continues living with us, despite several pleas from her side to move out. Taylor

tactfully uses her raw wounds as a justification to keep Lindsay staying with us, and every single

time, Lindsay bows her head and obeys Taylor’s heartbreaking requests.

I never thought living with a person other than Taylor would be this easy. Lindsay likes

watching sports and makes an awesome game buddy. She cooks, too, and Taylor and I have gotten

used to coming home from work to a ready dinner table. And the cute way she interacts with kids tells

me she’ll be a great auntie, and that we should keep her close at all times.

That is, if we manage to have kids of our own. Not because of Taylor’s infertility problems,

but because she and I haven’t been husband and wife since we learned about our daughter’s

malformation.

Her pain is still fresh, and she holds onto it stubbornly, making it even harder to move on. I

find her crying often, so frequently that it’s become part of our bedtime routine. I want to give her the

space she needs, but at the same time, seeing her alienating herself from me, each day a bit more,

gives me physical pain. And, I seriously don’t think it does any good for her, either.

After six months of not touching her, beyond some random quick kisses, my body aches with

yearning to feel her, give her the pleasure that might distract her from the pain, and reclaim her.

Physical intimacy helped her once before to get beyond her agony; it will help her this time...

if she lets me.

I slip my arms beneath my head, lying down on the bed, watching Taylor through the open

door of the bathroom while she prepares for sleep. She brushes and flosses her teeth, combs the long

curls of her hair, and slides into a white, cotton gown. It may not be the most body-flattering gown,

but like anything else she puts on, it turns me on right away.

This time, though, I feel ashamed of the filthy thoughts running rampant through my head, and it

angers me that I can’t share them with her anymore. I’m scared as hell that she’ll think of me as a

superficial pig, or that I’ll find out she feels no physical attraction toward me anymore, while I’m

bleeding with the need to have her love me back.

Tying her hair with a bow at the back of her head, she steps into our bedroom, her eyes

gradually lifting, then resting on me. A shy smile stretches her lips when our gazes meet, and I

swallow hard with the pain of having to stay away from her constricting my chest. She used to smile

and laugh mindlessly when she was pregnant. Will she ever be the same reckless, sensual woman

again?

I grab the bed sheets, throwing them to the foot of the bed. I don’t want her hiding beneath

them. Not until I pour my heart out to her and hear what she has to say.

She eyes the bed sheets suspiciously, but takes her place on the bed beside me anyway. I let

my gaze sweep her body up and down, giving her enough time to be warned about my intentions. She

doesn’t roll to the other side to avoid my gaze, nor does she make an attempt to touch me.

“It’s been long,” I say. “Too long.”

“Adam, I’m not ready.”

“Ready for what? To love me?”

“To get into the pregnancy thing again.”

“Sex isn’t about breeding.” At least not always. “I can use a condom if that’s the thing

stopping you. In fact I’ll drive to Walgreens now to...”

“You don’t need to go anywhere. I don’t want to use any birth control, either.” She pauses,

dropping her head down to her chest. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want to get pregnant again. What am I

saying?” She smirks. “Of course I do want to get pregnant, but it was too painful. Holding our baby’s

cold body in my arms was the hardest thing in my life. I can’t... I simply can’t go through it again. But,

I don’t want to take away your chance to become a father. You want a family, you deserve to have

one.”

“Look,” I say and slip a finger beneath her chin to lift her face and meet sorrowful eyes. “I

don’t want a family if you won’t be a part of it. I don’t want kids if you’ll not be their mother. I’m

more than happy to have a life with you as two. You and I forever. Nothing and no one can change

that.”

“But...”

“There’s no but. I want you, baby. And I swear it’s not my overly enthusiastic cock speaking.”

I grab her hand and pull it over my heart. “It’s my heart that can’t pass a day without you. It kills me

that you’re pushing me away, while my only wish is to be a part of your life.”

“But you are...”

“No, I’m not. But I don’t blame you for it. I just want a little intimacy, in small doses, if you

will. But, please don’t take away what we once had. The trust, the love, the oneness.”

“You make me feel like a jerk.” She gives me a soft snort, her fingers caressing the scar above

my heart.

“You’re not a jerk, only a heartbroken mother.” I’m not sure if that last word was the right

choice, but it doesn’t change the fact that she was and is one to our baby in Heaven.

“In small doses you say?” Another hesitant smile brightens her face. She’s not taken by my

words. Well, not in the wrong direction, at least.

“Did I really say small doses? Doesn’t sound like me at all.” I reciprocate her smile and lean

in cautiously for a kiss, my lips simply brushing the corner of her mouth. “Is this small enough for

you?”

“Hmm, I guess I can handle more.” She shakes her head playfully, and I move forward to

graze her lips, only briefly, though, to leave her wanting more.

“How about this?” I ask, although an alluring sigh leaving her mouth is proof enough for me to

continue.

“A little more, please,” she says, her eyelids half closed.

I stick out the tip of my tongue and lick her lower lip. “Small, little. Not exactly the words a

man likes to hear in bed.”

She laughs, opening her lips, and all the patience I’ve been keeping escapes me. I capture her

lips, relishing their sweet flavor, loving the taste of the victory of reclaiming what was once mine.

She doesn’t push me away or remain frozen. Her fingers wander from my neck up through my

hair, pulling me in as if she wants more. I give her what she wants and kiss her with the same ferocity

that I used to, without holding back, and slide my tongue into her mouth. How I could have gone

without letting our tongues dance with each other for half a year is harder to grasp than the proof of

Fermat’s Last Theorem.

She cups my cheeks with both hands, caressing my skin, and I pull her closer to me, never

breaking contact with her lips, to make this kiss memorable for her.

Even though my cock is urging me to get her naked under me, I don’t want to overdo it and

scare her away. And a drop of tear rolling down her cheek is an indication to for me take it slow...

real slow, until she’s fully onboard with it.

I draw back only a little, still letting my lips brush hers, and wipe the teardrop away.

“Everything is gonna be all right.”

“I want to believe it.”

I slide down over my pillow and pull her with me until she rests her head on my chest. “As

long as you sleep beside me, as long as I hear ‘I love you’ from your lips, and as long as you let me

love you, everything is gonna be all right.”

The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed and empty apartment, just when I was thinking

things between Taylor and I were brightening up. Panic overtakes me when I think about the last

moments between Taylor and me. Did I pressure her, move too fast for her fragile emotions?

Fuck. She wouldn’t leave me without first speaking to me, would she?

I slide out of the bed, scanning around for any irregularities, and run to her closet. Her clothes

are hanging at their usual places, just like her bags and shoes. That’s a good sign, right? Unless she

decided to leave me on a sudden thought.

No, no. I shouldn’t expect the worst. What would be her reason for leaving me anyway? That

she can’t give me the family I want. If she tells me that shit one more time, I’ll go ahead and get a

vasectomy.

Despite my rationale, I call her phone and as soon as her voice mail picks up, I hurry into the

shower, put on my clothes in a flash, and skip breakfast to arrive at work quickly, all the while

wishing she simply decided to show up early at work.

I curse audibly when I enter her empty office and ask Sabrina about Taylor. Only, she doesn’t

know. I’m not enjoying this secrecy; much less I enjoy having to ask her assistant the whereabouts of

my wife. Where the fuck is she hiding? It’s unfair and absolutely cruel of her to make me wonder

about where she can be after all the assaults and kidnappings she’d faced. I’ll have to hire a PI to

follow her around so I know every step she takes.

I settle in front of my computer to work, but the numbers just float in front of my eyes. “Fuck,

Taylor,” I curse under my breath. The sudden ring of my office phone nearly has me jumping to my

feet. “Yes,” I answer, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.

“I’m trying to reach you on your cell. Why don’t you answer?” Taylor asks, blame coating her

voice.

“Where are you? I’ve been dead worried since the morning.”

“Had to run some errands. I’m home now. Guess I won’t go to work today.”

“You don’t sound okay.” I’m so well-versed in the tone of her voice, I can tell without seeing

her face that she’s up to something.

“I’m okay. More than okay. We’ll talk when you come home,” she says before disconnecting.

I force myself to work until lunch, but then all my self-control dissolves, and I find myself in

my car, driving home with a quick stop at Walgreens to buy a package of condoms.

Taylor is sprawled over the couch in the living room, watching TV. Lindsay is nowhere to be

seen. “You’re home early.” She straightens up and tugs a thick lock of hair behind her ear.

I take off my jacket, placing it on the couch, and settle beside her. “Couldn’t stay at work.

You’ve got me worried, baby. Will you tell me what’s going on?”

Her blue eyes flicker over to my throat, down to my chest in appraisal, quickening my pulse.

She parts her lips slightly, sticking the tip of her tongue out to moisten them. I consider long and hard

not to take those lips the rough way I’d like, as I used to.

“What is it, baby? Why did you leave so early in the morning?”

Resting her arm on the back of the couch, she moves toward me, her eyes fixed on my lips.

“Won’t you give me a kiss?” she asks, ignoring my question, biting her lower lip.

Hell, is she teasing me?

Meeting her in the middle, I capture her moist, plump lips, and slip my arms around her waist

to draw her body against mine. She moans into my mouth, when I thrust my tongue in. I’d have come

home earlier if I knew I’d be welcomed this way. The scent of her fruity shampoo wafting from her

hair fills my nose.

I don’t close my eyes so I can watch her get lost in our kiss. The instantaneous blushing of her

face stirs my cock into attention. And her hands, now massaging my chest, aren’t exactly helping with

my devastating desire for her, either. Especially not when they move south.

She should know I’m as easy as pie when it comes to getting turned-on, yet she’s not holding

back a bit from our kiss, sucking my tongue, as well as pushing hers into my mouth, not breaking the

contact even to breathe. I cup her ass and move her onto my lap, spreading her legs astride me,

thrusting my cock against her pussy beneath our clothes. With the speed we’re going, it’ll be too

painful for me to stop if she doesn’t want to go all the way.

She pulls away and throws her head back, gasping at the intimate contact that we haven’t had

for far too long, and I see her nipples harden beneath her blouse.

While keeping a hand securely on her ass cheek to keep her where I want, I lift the other one

up to her breasts. “Fuck, baby, I missed you.”

Her answer comes as a whimper, and she slowly and steadily rides me, reminding me of the

day she got off just by rubbing herself against my leg at her office. Seems we’re back to where we

were at the beginning of our relationship; I’m chasing her relentlessly, while she’s dealing with

emotional issues.

Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt. As soon as one is unbuttoned, the next one is

being worked on, and soon, my chest is entirely bared to her enjoyment. Whether she’ll truly enjoy it

is a whole different animal. She presses her palms against my chest, covering my nipples, while her

eyes sweep over my torso, and her hips move forwards and backwards in my lap.

“I want you, Adam.” Her words pinch at my heart as do her lust-glazed eyes that are now

staring at me.

“I bought condoms,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I don’t want her having any

doubts or fears while diving into the sea of pleasures with me.

She shakes her head, and I notice tears welling up in her eyes. Shit, I’ve just reminded her of

the baby, haven’t I?

“What is it, love? You can tell me anything.” I move my hand up to caress her hair then her

cheeks. “We can stop right now if it’s going too fast for you.

“I don’t want to stop. I want all of you without any barrier between us.”

“But...”

She places a finger on my lips to cut me off, and I stop, wishing I could read her mind. “Our

baby’s death wasn’t easy. A part of my heart will always beat for her. I’ll probably never stop

hurting.” She pauses to wipe the tears away, but fresh tears keep coming. “You’ve given me so much.

More than I could have asked for in a man. But it won’t be enough.”

I swallow hard, my chest tightens with panic. Is she going to ask for divorce and seducing me

to have sex with me one last time? “What do you mean?”

“When I held our baby in my arms, something changed in me. I tasted the incredible feeling of

being a mother for the first time. It was overwhelming and so beautiful. I want that again. I’m full of

fear that we’ll go through the same pain, but I can’t stop dreaming about being a mother again. To my

own child.”

“Oh, baby.” I pull her in to embrace her, wrap my arms around this unearthly creature with no

intention to let her go.

“I want to have pregnant sex with you. I want to argue about which name to pick for our baby,

what color to paint her room. I want my home to be filled with baby cries and dirty diapers. I want all

of it... with you. Will you...” She pulls away and stares directly into my eyes. “Will you put a baby in

my belly?”

I break into laughter because she’s seriously asking me that. “All that talk was to ask me to

stick my dick inside you without a condom?”

She laughs, too, kissing me with her lips, wet and salty with tears. My hands resume their

positions on her ass, and she starts rocking back and forth. “I don’t know how it’ll be... I might be a

little too sensitive down there.”

“Want me to work you up until you beg for it and then slow fuck you?”

She blushes again, as if we hadn’t had sex more than some thousand times. I shift in my place

and move over her until she’s lying on her back. Her blouse comes off first, then her slacks. She’s

wearing a see-though, red-lace bra and matching panties. Her chest rises and falls, her nipples

erupting behind the transparent fabric. I take off my clothes, while drinking in the curves of her body,

the mound between her legs, and the moist panties that are a clear sign of her arousal.

I’ve been relying on my hand for so long now, it feels dreamlike having her half-naked,

waiting expectantly and aroused for me. Anxiety is eating at me, like it’s my first time with a girl. It

never occurred to me her sex would be affected by birth. I’ll have to be extra-careful, extra-patient to

keep my impulses in check.

While placing my pants on the arm of the couch beside my jacket, the package of condom slips

out.

Taylor arches an eyebrow at the sight of the box beside her feet. “You’re gonna have to give it

to someone as a gift because I’m not planning to have them inside me, ever.”

“We’ll see about that when you’re pregnant with our fourth kid in four years.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I’d rather take it as a threat, but it’s your interpretation, of course.” My hands find her belly,

caressing it, feeling its small slope. It hasn’t gone back to its flatness before the pregnancy, neither

has her wide hips. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful than ever.”

Her eyes widen at my words, and her chest heaves up and down. “You know the scientists say

men are half blind to the imperfections of the women they’re mating with.”

“Those pseudo-scientists haven’t had the luck to see you.” I dip my head to her navel, digging

my tongue inside it, unable to push away the disappointment as I remember the fullness of her stomach

just a few months ago. What could have been for us if our daughter were healthy? She’d be a month

old by now, making us dizzy with joy and exhaustion.

“Adam,” Taylor whispers, her head lifted to look at me, and I realize my eyes are getting wet

with my tears, so is her belly.

She reaches for me and cradles my cheeks in her hands, pulling me up over to her, and I move

up carefully and press my lips against hers. She locks her arms and legs tightly around me, the

imprisonment of my body in her fragile limbs giving me a rush of thrill. “We’re going to get over it

together.”

“You bet we will.” I grind my erection, now free of any slacks or boxers, against her pussy,

feeling it twitch at the touch of the soaking wet fabric of her panties. I manage to pull a hand, sneak it

between us, and trace the rim of her panties until I reach her entrance. My cock wasn’t imagining it,

she’s dripping. The long months without loving each other have been tough on her, too.

Her breathing quickens, as I place my thumb on her clit and two fingers against her entrance.

So soft and swollen. “Baby, I want to see you, taste you. Will you let me?”

Her eyes grow large with panic and concern. Does she worry I’ll not find her pussy desirable

after birth? Does she seriously consider that a possibility, even after I’ve explained to her about my

pregnancy fetish? After the countless times she’s seen her sexual effect on me instantly from just a

brief touch or a kiss?

“Just let me,” I demand, and she loosens her arms around me. I slide down, taking off her bra,

pulling down her panties as I progress, then spread her legs wide open. My mouth waters instantly at

the sight of the pink flesh glistering with her arousal. How I could go without the sight and taste of it

is a mystery I don’t want to delve into. A brief look over at Taylor’s face, and she’s covering her

eyes with the back of her hands.

“Come on. Do you want me to hold a mirror down here to show that it hasn’t changed?

Besides, a pussy is a pussy is a pussy.”

“Who says that?” She’s biting her lips to keep herself from a forceful smile.

“Adriana.”

“Ewww.”

“Who would you have preferred to have said it? Dr. Phil?” With that I dig in, lick her clit

gently, without allowing her any chance to resist. Her ludicrous resolve melts away quickly, and she

bucks into my mouth, demanding more with unintelligible words. The addition of my fingers slipping

into her has her arching forward with a moan.

“You missed that, didn’t you?” My voice is teasing, but not as much as my fingers smoothing

those needy cushions inside her throbbing sex, and soon she’s convulsing around my fingers. The taste

of her juices gushing out of her channel, the musical tone in her soft moans awaken my depraved,

animal side, the side that has been neglected for far too long, and I straighten up, resuming my posture

between her legs.

Before waiting too long, I poke the head of my cock into her entrance. “You’ll let me know if

it hurts.” Because I’ll have no way of knowing it with my lust-filled mind.

She gives me curt nod, barely keeping her heavy-lidded eyes open.

Placing her left leg over my shoulder, I ease into her, slowly, inch by inch, letting the feeling

of having her back soak in, watching her eyes grow wide with awe. We both gasp when I’m inside

her to the hilt, and I throw the other leg over my shoulder to get deeper into her. To reclaim every

depth of her.

She licks her lips, spiking my desire to kiss them, and I lean down, enjoying the flexibility of

her legs moving with my body against hers. She lifts her head to kiss me while her insides pulse

around my cock, milking me, pushing me forcefully close to the edge. I pull back and thrust, earning a

hearty cry of my name from her lovely mouth into mine. I kiss her again, fucking her mouth with my

tongue as my cock conquers every inch of her pussy. Her hands are everywhere around my body,

scraping my back, rubbing my arms, massaging my ass cheeks, pulling me against her.

This is all too arousing, our fucking filled with longing and primal desire, her hazed

whimpers, the way her breasts sway back and forth in synch with our fuck. Her sex-filled scent. The

sweet taste of her demanding mouth. My shaft is throbbing agonizingly against the hot cushions of her

inner walls. My balls are aching with the need to release, the desire to fill her with my hot seed.

I slip my arms beneath her to keep her body in place, as I pump harder into her. So much for

slow sex. Our first sex after six months, and she’ll probably need a week or two to recover the

aftermath of my crazy desire for her. I bury my head into the ocean of her hair over her shoulder and

take in her desire-filled moans that are coming out one after another, and louder each time.

And, before I can even consider controlling myself, I come hard and detonate deep into her,

my mind unable to absorb the magnitude of the explosion inside her and the overwhelming triumph of

marking her as mine again. “Take this as a proof of my infinite desire for you,” I say between ragged

breaths and collapse beside her on the couch.

“Or proof that you might be developing premature ejaculation.” She grins, her eyes closed,

her mouth wide open to catch her breath.

“Mind you; it took you less than a minute to come by my fingers.”

She rolls on her side to hug me and rests her head on my chest. “I have a confession to make.”

My eyebrow arches instantly, and I tilt my head to the side to see her face. “That you enjoyed

my premature release way too much?”

Slapping at my chest, she moves up to sit. “I gave away all the money I inherited from Jack.”

I chuckle, because it’s a joke. It must be a joke.

“I donated all of it,” she repeats, when she doesn’t receive any reaction out of me.

“Are you pulling a trick on me?”

“I’m serious.”

That’s more than hundred million dollars. Fuck! I jump up to sit. “The company as well?”

“No, I still own the company. I owe it to Jack to keep it in business and successful and I’ll

work hard for it. I just didn’t want the curse of his money on me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Before Valerie died, she told me all the devastating things happening to me were the result of

owning the money that didn’t belong to me.”

“And you believed that crap?”

“I don’t know. But I want to make it right with karma. I believe if I help others with whatever

I have, the bad luck will stop chasing after me. Are you mad?”

“A little shocked, that’s it. Where did you donate it?”

“To free clinics across L.A.”

I raise my hand up to her cheeks, caressing my way to her lips, still considering the possibility

that she might be joking. Who can give up that amount of money? “With that amount of money, they’ll

become a competition against Cedar Sinai,” I joke.

“I really hope that.”

He gives me a rueful smile. “Our kids will be mad at you when they find out what you did.”

“They won’t know if you don’t tell them.”

“They’ll wonder why a free clinic has your name, because I’m sure that’s what one of those

clinics will do.”

She shrugs. “Now it’s time for you to confess something.”

“What?” I ask. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“You still haven’t told me the third reason behind your abstinence game, other than the

miscarriage and your birthday present.”

“Oh that.”

She bobs her head up and down, her eyes searching my face for a response.

“I wanted to give you the best sex of your life,” I say. “I wanted to be better than Jack in at

least one area, and I figured if I left you hungry for a while, you’d have higher sexual tension and be

sensitive to what I’d do to you once the time came.”

“Hmmm.” She licks her lips; her eyes lingered ever so slowly over my chest, driving me

crazy all over again.

“Did I succeed? Did I give you the best sex of your life?”

“Depends on the definition of the best sex. If you consider the number of orgasms reached in

one go, then you’d already given it to me when we had sex for the first time in your apartment.”

“That one was a lot of fun. I never imagined you’d beg for me to have sex with you.” Just

remembering that night sends chill shivers up and down my spine.

“But that was hardly the only great sex we had. There were so many unforgettable ones, it’s

impossible to choose the best. If you define it by the intensity, I’m torn between the one I got you tied

up and made you think that blonde girl I hired was fucking you and the one we had at the end of your

abstinence game.” Her eyes dilate, and I can tell her mind is occupied by similar images, too. Even

talking about sex with her is enough to throw me off the cliff of the sexual desires all together.

“Those two times are among my favorites, too, but nothing compares to the first time I had

you. I adored that slutty nurse uniform.”

She gives me a blushing smile. My heart thumps hard at the thought of her obscene behavior

that night. She, among all people, chose to have sex that way.

“You’re better than Jack in another area, too,” she says, pulling me away from those naughty

images.

“What is it?”

She has my full attention. “I don’t know how to name it, though.”

“Explain it.”

“I survived Jack’s death, although I wasn’t the same person,” she says. “But, if something

happens to you, or you leave me, that’ll be my end. I can’t live without you.”

“It’s only because you suffered a lot after Jack’s death,” I say, shrugging.

“I also thought that would be it, but it’s not. I realized how intensely I love you because of that

text message I received about the pregnancy news of the other woman. I don’t think I’d ever agree to

take Jack back if he’d cheated on me, but I was willing to stay with you, despite the existence of

another woman in your life.”

I grab her hand and kiss her knuckles. “Now, tell me when you fell in love with me.”

“I think it was when we danced at the company’s anniversary.”

“To the Sinatra song?”

“Yeah. I’ve got you under my skin.”

My eyebrows pull together. The memories of that night feel ages ago. “But you cried and left.

I thought it reminded you of Jack.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have any memories of that song associated with Jack,

as popular as the song is.”

“Why did you cry, then?”

“I didn’t know why at that time,” she says. “I realized the reason later on. Until the time of our

dance, my heart had been completely Jack’s. But the way you hummed the song, so beautifully and

with pure emotions coming from your heart, I couldn’t block you out anymore or continue pretending

you didn’t exist. It was like you infused your love into my heart with that song. It was that new wave

of emotions that made me cry after two years of not being able to cry.”

I’m speechless. I had no idea she felt anything for me that early. Four years too late, but still a

good start. The beautiful woman I thought I’d never have as my lover is now my wife, became mother

of our dead child, and is willing to give me much more than I’d ever imagined I would have.

A little grin plays vaguely on her lips, a simple sign of utter contentment, reflecting the feeling

spreading in my heart, warming up my body.

I love her quirks, superstitions, addictions, insecurities, and her weird logic. Her

imperfections make her just the perfect woman for me. In every sense. Her complete love for me and

her generosity move me and make me want to be a better person.

I don’t know what the reason was for the initial pull that caused a complete U-turn in my life,

forcing me to leave my then girlfriend, but I’m grateful that I followed my instincts and pursued

Taylor until she complied. Now, nearly six years after her explosive introduction into my life, she and

I are hand in hand, heart against heart, and will be going against the hardships and failures, heartaches

and pains together.

I have no doubt we will have the family we’ve always dreamed of. Maybe not the

conventional way and not even very soon. But, I believe in our strength as a couple to grow and adapt

to the challenges.

To forgive and move on.

To wish and let go.

As long as she allows a piece of me into her heart, we’ll be just fine.

***

Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. —I shall feel it. - Victor Hugo

***

THE END

The Pursuit series continues with Lindsay Doheny’s romantic adventures with two irresistible

bad boys who don’t accept no as an answer, while she has to pretend to be the girlfriend of Michael

Hawkins, the wealthiest media tycoon in the nation. Taylor & Adam will have an appearance, too!

Click through to the next page to read an excerpt from Pleasure Extraordinaire (PURSUIT,

4).

PLEASURE EXTRAORDINAIRE

Iron slap.

That’s what they call me because I killed a woman with just the slap of my hand. It wasn’t my

slap that killed her actually. It was the hook that pierced her head that took her life in a matter of

seconds.

However, for some reason that crucial fact hasn’t registered in people’s minds. When I say

people, I mean millions of them, because Valerie, the woman I killed, had put up a video recorder to

have the entire world witness her barbarity. But, it turned out to be just the opposite of what she’d

initially aimed for, and instead, recorded how the life got sucked out of her lungs.

As a result of the video spreading like wildfire, here I am, stopped almost every time I show

up in public places by strangers asking for a picture of my glorious hand or an autograph drawn by the

said hand. Some people go as far as asking me to slap them. And not always on the face. I would

gladly honor those idiots’ wishes; if I was sure my hand wouldn’t hurt.

Some YouTube guy made an amateur music video of the brief second of my hand hitting

Valerie’s face, using a horrible electronic melody of his own creation as the background music, and

that ridiculous video has gotten over fifty million viewers. That’s nothing compared to the two-

hundred-twenty-five-million visitors the original video had received in its one-week life on

YouTube, before it was banned due to breaking the website’s terms and regulations against violence.

It’s amazing how such a simple, self-defensive act made me famous nationwide. I’ve been

approached by insurance companies, detergent manufacturers, and food chains to appear in their

commercials. Hell, even a tow truck company wanted to use my hand as their logo. I’d think it was

funny, only it wasn’t. I will never use the fame of the hand I killed someone with to make money.

Not that I feel what I did was wrong.

Having been haunted with guilt for the majority of my life for being the cause of my mother’s

death—she died while giving birth to me—not even a drop of guilt has formed in my heart for

unintentionally causing Valerie’s death. If I hadn’t killed her, she’d continue her killing spree and

spread more pain to innocent people. Now that she’s gone forever, Taylor can relax.

It looks like Taylor is relaxing a tad too well, because she and her husband have recently

started their high-pitched-moan concerts regularly every morning and evening. And I swear, if I have

to stand one more of their love concerts, I’ll donate my ears to the closest hospital. It’s one thing

witnessing your parents doing it and completely another to hear your own sister getting it wild and

rough. Especially if you’re someone like me; who hasn’t had a sexual experience satisfying enough to

make me lose myself, let alone moan as loudly as my sister. Because it’s not just disgusting, it’s

arousing too; imagining the positions they must have their sweaty bodies in. She’s my sister and Adam

is my brother-in-law, for fuck’s sake, and I don’t want to have naked images of my family roaming in

my mind.

That’s why I took the plunge two days ago and moved to a shoe-sized condo in the same

district, despite the fact that I don’t have a job or a stable income, except for the settlement I’d

received for the sexual harassment I’d been exposed to at the last company I’d work for. It’s not a

little amount, but I want to keep it for harder times, not now when I’m young, childless, and capable

of eighty-hour work schedules. Not to mention the lack of a boyfriend tidbit, which actually sucks up

a lot of productive time.

Feeling glad that I’m finally done with live, sexual shows only a room away, I set about

getting ready for my first job interview. The little possibility that Michael Hawkins, probably LA’s

most attractive businessman, may attend the interview is enough to throw me into a heart attack. He’s

one of the project owners at my sister’s construction company and personally asked me to call his

assistant to set up a job interview for myself.

Of course, I delayed the inevitable phone call as long as I can, thinking my instant attraction to

Michael was just temporary, caused by the lack of male presence in my life. Nonetheless, my

loneliness got the better of me and here I am, coating my lips with a deep-red lipstick, wearing a

push-up bra beneath a not-so-modest, V-neck blouse.

I call a cab to the company’s headquarters in Sherman Oaks and count the number of red cars I

see on the way during the twenty-eight-minute drive. I spot exactly one-hundred-six red cars, if I don’t

count that one car which had two black doors but was red everywhere else. I have to eliminate that

one, or else I’ll end up having an odd number and my job interview will flop.

Among all numbers, it can’t be a number that ends with seven, because I hate seven. My

birthdate, which is also the date of my mother’s death, falls on the seventh of June. I found out the

truth of my mother’s death when I was seven. That jerk of a colleague in my old company tried to rape

me on the seventh of February. Valerie kidnapped me and Taylor on the seventh of May. And

surprise, surprise, the street number of the house where Valerie kept us captive ended with seven, as

well. It was a clear sign that I shouldn’t have entered the house in the first place.

There are many more things that aren’t just a coincidence about the number seven. Don’t

forget the deadly sins that are, what? Seven. Nothing good ever comes of anything related to seven.

That’s why I’m keeping that clown of a car out of my total sum, and the imminent interview

will be nothing but a light conversation filled with laughter and compliments about my work ethic,

accomplishments, and, well, also good looks. Of course, the flattery about my looks should come

from Michael and Michael alone, or I may have to file another sexual-abuse lawsuit and that will

most likely label me as un-hirable for eternity in California, as well.

I straighten my skirt and adjust my purse under my arm as I climb the stairs in front of the high-

rise that’s only the most luxurious building I’ve ever seen. The receptionist greets me with a full-

hearted smile and informs her colleague about my arrival through her earphone. “Take the elevator to

the fiftieth floor and check in with the secretary. She’ll direct you to Mr. Hawkins’ office.”

I wasn’t aware that the interview would be held in Michael’s office. I should probably stop

calling him Michael in my head to prevent any accidental slips of the tongue. I thank the receptionist

and walk to the elevators.

A cab slides open, and I step in, nodding my head to the tall, blond girl, who, judging by her

looks and the familiarity of her face, must be working in front of the camera. Her leather jacket and

skinny jeans make me feel overdressed for the interview. She doesn’t return my gesture, which is

okay, but I feel her heavy stare on me, as I push the button for the fiftieth floor.

The fiftieth floor? Very high for my edgy nerves, but at least it’s not an odd number. I inhale

the sweet scent of the girl’s expensive cologne, willing my nerves to calm.

“I wouldn’t bother going all the way up. My father isn’t in today,” the girl says, glancing at her

long, black nails with a bored expression on her face, and I realize why she’s so familiar. She’s

Chloe Hawkins. Michael’s, ahem Mr. Hawkins’s only daughter.

“Thanks for the information,” I reply, hoping the disappointment in my voice won’t show, and

stare up at the numbers of the floors. It might not be such a bad thing after all. I’ll probably

concentrate better on the interview questions without the distraction of a beautiful man.

I notice no other number is pressed besides fifty, so she must be going to the same floor as I

am. Will she be interviewing me? I don’t know the first thing about her, so I shouldn’t judge her by

the brief, two-second vibe I’m getting from her, but I can say almost with certainty that she and I will

never be BFFs.

I shove my shoulders back and lift my chin nonchalantly to keep a straight posture and stand as

tall as I can be beside her perhaps five-eleven figure; regretting wearing pumps rather than high-

heels.

The elevator doors slide open, and the girl elegantly walks out of it, swaying her non-existent

hips left and right. I follow her, hoping the secretary I’ve been told to see will be that direction.

I clutch my purse, unable to stop my fingers from squeezing it with anxiety, as I see the brand

of the skinny jeans Chloe’s wearing. Seven For All Mankind. Among all the cloth lines available, my

potential future boss’ daughter has to wear clothes from Seven Jeans. Seven! My first instincts about

her were correct. It’s crystal clear she and I will never make it beyond two strangers. That is, if I’m

lucky.

I spot a desk and a brunette in her early twenties in a dark-blue suit. She stands and greets

Chloe as she walks past the desk, again without returning the girl’s gesture, and enters through the

large office doors. I hesitate asking the girl at the desk about my interview, but I do it anyway.

“Miss Doheny,” she says, giving me one of the most heart-warming smiles, calming my

agitated nerves a bit. “Welcome to Hawkins’ Media Group. Mr. Hawkins is waiting for you.” She

comes around her desk and opens the same door Chloe has just passed through and gestures with her

hand through to an anteroom. “Julie, this is Miss Doheny, Mr. Hawkins’ two o’clock appointment.”

Julie dials a number and informs someone of my arrival, while I briefly scan her large office.

The desk and the file cabinets are an exquisite mahogany, while the carpet and the walls are a light

cream. My old office was half the size of this one, and didn’t even have a tenth of the luxury this one

has. Julie’s salary must also be several times higher than mine, although I bet her science knowledge

doesn’t go beyond high school math, while I have a worthless double major in math and chemistry.

She must have other qualities that make up for her science knowledge, though, to get her such a nice

office.

I would have continued analyzing Julie and the choice of her dress, but the sudden opening of

the French doors at the other end of Julie’s office saves her from my critical evaluation. I gasp when

Michael appears behind the doors, looking more gorgeous than I remember him.

“Michael… Hawkins,” I blurt out, willing to kick myself for calling him by his first name.

He stands at the doorway, offering me his hand to shake, giving me a bright, knee-weakening

smile. “Just Michael, please. I’m glad you decided to give Hawkins’ Media Group a chance.”

Right. I work hard not to roll my eyes at his words and much harder to not let the sultry scent

of his cologne get the best of me. If only it was his cologne that was distracting my senses and making

my brain go all mushy in an instant. His full head of black hair, only spiked with gray above his ears,

his warm green eyes flashing all beautiful and sexy suggestions, his light-pink thick lips that I could

spend a full hour just licking, his Zeus’ body. Oh god, that body deserves medals of honor for each

and every firmness and curve beneath those undeserving clothes. Even the wrinkles on his face create

an aura of sensuality that’s hard to ignore.

I bet with his years of experience, he’s developed some mind-blowing tricks to overwhelm

the poor women who are already mesmerized just by his beauty.

I’m torn between wanting to replace Julie, to be as close to Michael as possible, and work in

the basement so I won’t do something foolish around him.

My heart is beating fast as if I’ve just finished drinking half a dozen cups of coffee. As I close

the distance between us and reach for his hand, I bite my lower lip and pray that I won’t lose all my

sense and end up sucking those luscious lips.

Somehow, I notice Chloe sitting at the edge of a large desk situated in the middle of the over-

sized office and feel grateful for the sneer on her face for keeping me focused on something other than

Michael.

“Hello, Michael,” I say and leave his firm grip. He points toward his office, with the same

sunshine smile playing across his lips, and I walk to the middle of the office and stop to wait for him

to close the door. Only he doesn’t.

“Chloe, be a darling and give us some privacy, please,” Michael says, with a warm, fatherly

voice.

Chloe doesn’t say anything as she practically leaps toward the door, with fury steaming from

her red ears.

Michael approaches me and directs me with his hand on the small of my back toward the long

rectangular table on the north side of his office. “Lindsey, I thought you’d never call. I’m very happy

to see you again.”

“Me, too, Michael. Chloe told me just a minute ago, when we met in the elevator, that you

wouldn’t be in your office today,” I say loudly enough for Chloe to hear as she steps out of the office.

I smile with satisfaction, when she flashes me a contemptuous look seconds before she bangs the door

closed.

“She’s a little over-protective of her old father, but she’s harmless. Ignore her caprices, and

you’ll be just fine.”

I want to correct him and say him he’s far from old, but I don’t want to be perceived as a

bootlicker. So I just let my body follow where he’s directing me.

A man, whose presence in the office I’ve just noticed, pulls a chair for me and nods with his

head. He’s as short as I am with my pumps and wearing a black suit.

“This is my assistant, Ricky.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ricky.” I shake his hands and settle on the chair he pulled out for me.

“The pleasure is mine.” He sits across from me once Michael takes his seat at the head of the

table.

“You’ll interact with Ricky more often than you will with me.” Michael laces his hands and

rests his elbows on the table, instantly sending me into a daydream about my naked body manhandled

by those hands. I wish I could fan the extreme heat out of my body. “He’ll be responsible for

everything related to your recruitment. So make sure he’s informed about every little detail

concerning your life, from filing your income tax return to your choice of tampon.”

I come close to choking on my saliva at the word tampon. “I don’t think I heard that right. Why

would Ricky have to know what I use during my period?”

“Oh, I apologize. My bad. You must be thinking I’m going to recruit you for a post at the

company.”

I shiver with disappointment, as if ice cold water pours down on me. I was counting on getting

a job here and skipping that headache-inducing, motivation-killer job-hunting stage. “I won’t be

hired?”

“Oh, yes, you will. But not for the type of post you’re expecting to have.”

My eyebrow arches without my control as confusion clouds my mind. “What kind of post do

you have in mind?” I ask hesitantly. Okay, I like him. May be a lot, but I won’t work as a prostitute if

that’s what he has in mind. These rich people. All of them are too spoiled to see the value in each

person and think they can buy anything their frozen heart’s desire. Where’s the good, old fashioned

method of taking the girl out to a nice restaurant for dinner? He’s so gorgeous; I would probably end

up in the same bed with him before the end of the night.

“I want to hire you as my girlfriend.”

There you go. My fury surfaces with the mere sound of his words, and I jerk to my feet,

pushing the chair back. I should get out of this office before he tastes my iron slap. I don’t want to

deal with another lawsuit even if it’s my every right to sue him.

“Please, listen to what I say before you make a decision.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“I didn’t think you were one. I just need you to appear as my girlfriend.”

“Oh, I see. You want to take advantage of the fame of my iron slap? I thought you were better

than that.”

He shakes his head, an unnerving smile across his lips. Funny how a minute ago that same

smile melted me into a puddle. “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend because of your honesty and

trustworthiness. It’ll be a lie if I say your selfless act to save your sister had no influence on my

decision. It did, but it just confirmed what I initially saw in you.”

“Why do you want to hire me to appear as your girlfriend, exactly? All you need to do is to

take me out to a restaurant a few times, and you’ll have a girlfriend with an iron slap. Are you afraid

that I’ll reject you?”

He throws his head back as his loud laughter fills the room. I sneak a peek at Ricky and see

him laughing as well. I shouldn’t have made it so clear that I have a special interest in Michael. Ahh,

my uncontrollable tongue.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Michael asks Ricky and then turns to me. “Believe me, you’d be on the top

of my list of potential girlfriends, but you see, I can’t have any real girlfriend.”

I frown, trying to imagine why such a rich, gorgeous man can’t have a girlfriend. If STDs are

his problems, what are condoms for?

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks, his eyes searching my face, and I shake my head.

“Because I’m gay.”

“Oh.” Oh!

“And I’m not ready to come out yet. I probably never will be. It’ll destroy my business and the

life I’ve worked so hard to build. My children would be affected as well. The public opinion

regarding homosexuals might be getting more liberal every day, but if the word gets out that I’m into

men, it’ll be my end.”

I plop back on the chair, unable to register his words. My lips are glued together; my brain is

blank. The one man who managed to grab my interest after long months of celibate living turns out to

be gay? That can’t be. I’ve met and befriended enough homosexual men to distinguish who’s gay and

who’s not, and Michael looks far from being a gay. With his strong features and overpowering

command, he is, in fact, a symbol of masculinity more than anyone else. It must be a cruel joke.

Fucking rich people! One of their hobbies is messing with the feelings of ordinary people, like me.

My eyes jump between Ricky and Michael. I wait anxiously for them to break into laughter

and make fun of my foolishness. I’d rather have that than lose Michael without even having a chance

with him.

But the laughter never comes, and instead Michael continues with his speech, “I need a strong,

opinionated, and trustworthy woman beside me to keep my image as a straight man. You’ll be

compensated with a generous salary for your help, have access to all kinds of luxury products, travel

across the world with me, and have a chance to learn the insights of the media business. Please don’t

decline my offer without giving it thorough thought. ”

Shit! How am I supposed to make such a big decision when I can’t yet wrap my head around

Michael’s sexual orientation? It’ll take days, even weeks, to analyze everything and think through

possible scenarios for my career to be able to form a sound decision; and most likely my answer will

be a negative one.

But right now, with my confused thoughts, the positives outweigh the negatives. I’ll gain

hands-on business experience, see countries that I’d probably never see if I continue working as a

mathematician, make money, and help someone in need.

“Take as much as time you need,” Michael says.

I let out an exasperated breath and shake my head.

“Please, don’t say no without considering everything.”

“I’ve already decided.”

Michael’s face drops, and his skin goes pale with disappointment.

“I’ll take your offer, and it better include at least a trip to Japan.”

***

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About The Author

Liv Bennett lives in California with her scientist husband, toddler daughter, and two loud

budgies. Reading and writing erotic romance are her favorite forms of relaxation, in addition to long

walks and yoga. She's a social drinker of coffee but a serious tea addict.

Adam Garnett, the hero of the Pursuit of Passion, came to her in a dream during a romantic

getaway in Las Vegas on Valentine's Day, and since then hasn't left Liv's mind for longer than a day,

much to her husband's dismay.

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Document Outline

Prologue – VALERIE: When I see you again…
1 – TAYLOR: Craigslist
2 – ADAM: Lie with Bree
3 – The accomplice
4 – ADAM: Jealousy rain
5 – TAYLOR: Insecurities, go away!
6- TAYLOR: Over-priced
7 – ADAM: Trapped
8 – TAYLOR: The grand scheme
9 – TAYLOR: Wrong man kissed
10 – ADAM: Silence before the storm
11 – ADAM: When it rains…
12 – TAYLOR: Help!
13 – LINDSAY: Back in L.A.
14 – ADAM: The imminent fall
15 – TAYLOR: Enemy at the door
16 – LINDSAY: Iron Slap
17 – ADAM: Give in to me
PLEASURE EXTRAORDINAIRE
About The Author

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