Chapter 20
Zane
That mouth. That fucking mouth.
Even in my sleep, the feeling of Ashlyn’s lips around my cock is vivid.
It consumes my dreams and feels like I’m reliving it.
She sucked and licked me, teasing every nerve I have from the bottom of my cock to the top.
The orgasm she pulled from me with each glide of her hand and every movement of her tongue was so intense, I could barely contain myself.
Dream or not, I am going to come again as I relive that blowjob. As I near the climax, my cock is throbbing so hard and my heart is pounding so violently that it’s almost like an alarm is going off.
And that’s when I realize…an alarm is going off.
An actual alarm.
I bolt upright in bed, my body in a cold sweat as I realize my phone is buzzing. It’s an alert from the security system.
Movement detected. Front door cam.
I shove up from the bed and grab a pair of gray sweatpants, fumbling for a second before stepping into them.
While Ashlyn made the stipulation that she didn’t want security cameras all over the house, I wasn’t going to get rid of all of them.
I still have a front door cam and one at the back door too.
I also have one near my bedroom window. One can never be too careful, and photographers these days are ruthless.
If I had to guess, that’s who I am dealing with now.
A desperate, inconsiderate photographer, maybe even the same one as before.
Whoever it is, they need to back the fuck up.
I check on Ashlyn real quick just to be sure it wasn’t her. But when I peek in the door, she is sound asleep, lying diagonally in the middle of the giant bed, a tangle of pillows and blankets and a mess of wavy red hair.
I smile briefly before heading to the front door to check the camera. I look at the screen, and the live black-and-white picture of the front porch. It appears there’s no one and nothing there. Everything seems quiet and as it should be.
I check through the peephole and still, I see nothing. I consider opening the door, but it would sound the alarm unless I turn the whole system off. I’m too tired for that. I just want to get back to my bed and back to that dream.
I pad back down the foyer, but before I reach the living room, I hear a noise. I don’t know what it is, but it’s enough to stop me in my tracks.
It’s sudden. High pitched. Almost like a whimper. Like someone crying. Someone small.
It stops, and I stand still, holding my breath. For a moment I wonder if I imagined it. Hell, for all I know, I’m still dreaming. Maybe I’m still asleep and in one of those weird dreams where I think I woke up, but actually didn’t.
I’m about to head back to bed when I hear it again. It’s a cry, no doubt about that, and it’s right outside my door.
Surely not, I think to myself as I walk slowly back to the door. This is the kind of thing you see in movies or weird episodes of medical and law shows. Not real life.
I open my door and it takes a moment for my brain to materialize what I am looking at. My heart drops through my chest and into my stomach.
It’s a baby carrier.
An infant car seat with a blanket covering it.
For a moment, I think I’m being pranked, but when the fussing continues and the blanket moves around, I realize it’s not a joke. There’s a real baby in there.
Maybe it’s a trap, I think. Before I do anything else, I call the security guard at the front gate of the neighborhood.
“Bryan? Yeah, this is Zane. I was wondering if anyone has come in the last thirty minutes.”
“No one who doesn’t live here, no. Is everything all right, Mr. Calloway?” he asks.
“Another weird question,” I say. “Does anyone in the neighborhood have a baby?”
“Only the Duprees,” he answers. “Had twins last month.”
“Hmm,” I answer.
“Do you need me to call the police?” Bryan asks.
“Probably. There was an unexpected…package…at my house,” I answer.
“What kind of package?” he asks, and the baby starts to cry.
Bewildered, I shove my phone into my pocket and inch forward. When I pull back the blanket, my heart drops.
It is a baby.
A tiny baby with chubby cheeks and wisps of blonde hair and bare feet.
“Holy shit…” I let out. Then I look around again one more time before carefully picking up the carrier and taking it inside.
I set the fussing baby on the kitchen counter because I am not really sure what to do next.
Obviously, it belongs to someone. Not me, but someone.
I just have to figure out who. As I stare down at the baby, it looks back up at me.
For a moment, nothing happens. Just a shared look of curiosity.
Then its lip begins to quiver, tears fill its eyes, and it starts to cry again. And by cry, I mean wail.
“Shit,” I say sharply. I want to pick it up, take it out, and hold it. But I have no idea how to undo the belt that is strapping the child to the contraption. The crying has turned into full-fledged screams now, and I have no idea what to do.
Then suddenly, I hear Ashlyn’s voice from behind me.
“What in the world is going on?”