Chapter 22
Soren
S ince it’s still early, the roads aren’t as crowded as I know they’ll be later on. When a popular song is played on the radio, Gail’s eyes light up. “Ohh, I love this song,” she says excitedly.
Before I know what I’m doing, I abruptly switch off the music. “I hate it,” I growl. It’s a lie, but having fun with her feels like a betrayal to Mick.
“Everything okay?” Gail’s voice breaks through my reverie.
“Let’s just make this quick,” I add, feeling the weight of responsibility settle onto my shoulders.
Although I feel her eyes on me for most of the drive, I don’t acknowledge it. Instead, I try to memorize the key items I want to get. I know it’s only the top of the mountain, but I’ve already ordered a lot of stuff online. These are just the things I felt Gail should have a say in.
I found the one-stop shop amongst the blogs I scoured. “Preggo Paradise” as it’s called, claims to have all you need from the first to the last week of pregnancy—everything from food to blankets—and, of course, whatever you need after birth.
Reaching the shop, I park as close to the entrance as possible. Gail playfully waggles her eyebrows. “Afraid I’m too frail to walk?” she asks.
Instead of telling her the truth that yeah, kinda, I scoff. “Hardly.”
We get a shopping cart and make our way inside. “First stop, prenatal vitamins,” I mutter under my breath, squinting at the glow of my phone screen as I navigate the aisles. The list on my phone is a roadmap to Gail’s pregnancy—a journey plotted in bullet points and question marks.
“Which ones?” Gail asks, her fingers brushing against the myriad of bottles. Her touch is tentative, like she’s afraid to claim anything as hers.
“Uhh, this one here has DHA, whatever the hell that is.” I grab a bottle off the shelf, pretending I understand the significance of each ingredient. It’s all Greek to me, but last night’s crash course in mom blogs said it was important, so here we are.
I end up picking everything recommended by Mom32, and with every bottle I load into the cart, Gail’s frown deepens. “I’m not popping that many pills,” she exclaims, eyeing them with disdain.
Shrugging, I ignore her, not willing to compromise. If Mom32 and the books Dr. Patel recommended tell me to get something, I’m getting it—all of it. Even different variants.
“Healthy foods next,” I say more to myself than to her, steering us toward the organic section with a determination I don’t quite feel. My gut twists with a cocktail of emotions—resentment, concern, a weird protectiveness that has no right to rear its head.
“Organic, huh?” Gail’s lips quirk up in a half-smile as she picks up an avocado, inspecting it like it’s a foreign object. “I ate these before it became trendy.”
“Good, then you can teach me not to pick the rotten ones.” I chuckle despite myself, watching as she demonstrates how to check for ripeness. It’s absurdly normal, this moment between us, and it chips away at the frosty wall I’ve been constructing around her.
We pick up more fresh fruits and veggies and talk about food. Turns out Gail’s pretty much into eating any and everything at least once. “How about I tell you if there’s something I don’t like?” she says, exasperation coating her tone. “That way you don’t have to keep asking before every item you put into the cart.”
This is absolutely ridiculous. I should just make her get her own cart and put whatever she wants into it. Then again, with the way she’s eyeing the most fattening foods with barely contained lust in her eyes, she’d probably just pick steaks, ice cream, and… “What the hell? No, we’re not getting that.” I take the third tub of ice cream and the whipped cream from her hands.
Gail growls, actually fucking growls. “Give me back the ice cream, Soren.”
“No.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, give me the ice cream right now or I’ll make a scene.” She lifts her chin, meeting my gaze full-on in a silent challenge.
I have no doubt she’d do it, and the thought of punishing her for it later makes my cock throb. Damnit. I discreetly rearrange myself, but not discreetly enough to avoid Gail’s self-satisfied smirk.
“Fine,” I relent. “Two tubs of ice cream and the chocolate sauce, but not the cream.”
She thinks about it for a second. “Fine,” she says. “But I still want the frozen pizzas.”
We continue to bicker and compromise our way through the food aisles. When we’re finally done, I realize I haven’t even won half the fucking arguments. Gail’s masterfully manipulated me, and I’m not even angry about it.
Our last stop is what the mom blog called ‘Cozy FTW’. When we reach the aisle, Gail goes crazy. She picks up every single blanket she likes the look of, and rubs it against her cheek. I quickly learn that she measures success by the cooing sounds she makes.
“Here, try this.” She bounces back to me, carrying a black one. Her fingers curling into the plush fabric, a vulnerable look flickering in her eyes that makes me want to look away. “It’s so soft.”
“It feels fine,” I say gruffly.
“It’s so soft I just want to take my clothes off and roll up in it,” she coos.
After touching it, I have to agree with her. It feels fucking awesome, and I wouldn’t be opposed to lying naked on it with her… no. Ahh fuck, no. Not going there. We’re only here out of obligation, there’s no way we’re going to play house for real.
For the rest of the shopping trip, I force myself to create more distance between us. I can’t risk being sucked in by the ease of the situation. For all I know, Mick’s right, and her jokes and easy banter are all just part of her plan to get some quick cash.
Logically, I know that doesn’t make sense since she’s given us back what we’ve paid her through Cupid’s Court. Or maybe she only did that so we’d let our guards down.
Yeah, no, I don’t believe that at all. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m actually into this—into Gail. Not just as a good whore to fuck, but beyond that. I felt it at Cupid’s Court, the pull I feel toward her is more than carnal desire. She’s the perfect woman for me and Mick. Not that I’ll tell her that.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggest as soon as we have everything on the list, eager to escape the creeping sensation of domesticity that trails us through the store. A part of me is itching to bolt, to run back to the ice where everything makes sense, but another part—the part that remembers Nana’s stern lectures on responsibility—forces my feet forward.
As we stand in line, Gail leans into the shopping cart, her laughter light as she tells me about an art and craft incident from her teaching days. It’s infectious, that laugh, and I find myself grinning along, caught up in the sound more than the story. For a second, I forget why we’re here, who we are to each other—just two people sharing a joke while waiting in line.
“Thanks, Soren,” she says once we’re loaded up and heading back to the car, her words slicing through the post-laughter quiet. “For… this. For trying.”
“Doesn’t mean I trust you,” I reply, the words gruff. And yet, there’s an unspoken ‘yet’ hanging between us, a tiny crack in the ice.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful,” she counters, her gaze meeting mine, a challenge wrapped in gratitude. “So again I say, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Once we’re in the car and I start it up, Gail turns to me. “Just for the record,” she says, clenching her hands. “I don’t trust you either.”
I bark out a laugh. “Hate to burst your self righteous bubble, Gail. But I’m not the one who lied about anything.”
She huffs. “First of all, just because you think I lied about anything doesn’t mean I have. Second, lying isn’t the only way to break trust. What you and Mickey did to me was unforgivable.”
Despite the guilt that stirs inside me, I scoff. “You deserved so much worse. You have no idea what this is doing to Mickey—” I quickly cut myself off from saying something I really fucking shouldn’t.
Gail’s eyes widen. “So tell me. What am I doing to Mickey? I was going about my day, you’re the ones who forced your way into my life.”
“Is that so?” I ask sardonically. “Tell me more about how it’s our fault you were whoring yourself out and lying to us.”
She rolls her eyes before turning back to look out the front window, mumbling under her breath. “You’re such an asshole,” she spits. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and you know it. That’s why you took me out to buy all this shit. But just so you know, I can’t be bought.”
“Hate to break it to you, whore, but the money transfers to Cupid’s Court prove you can.”
“For fuck’s sake, Soren. What are you, twelve?” she shouts. “I don’t care what you think you know. You’re wrong. But fine, whatever. I’m a whore. Do you think I’m ashamed of what I did? Because I’m not. My only regret is that it was you and Mickey who bought me.”
I chuckle darkly, ignoring her barb. “You didn’t hate being called that when I fucked you.” Her breath hitches. “In fact, I’m sure you told me more than once you were my whore while I had my hard cock buried in your pussy or ass.”
“Stop it.”
“Don’t you remember, whore? ” I rasp. “Because I remember exactly what your holes feel like. How tight and wet your cunt was. Oh, and your ass… mhmm. The way you squeezed me was pure perfection.”
She lets out a small whimper and fidgets in her seat. “Stop it,” she says weakly. “Just stop.”
“Are you sure you want me to stop?” I taunt. “I bet you’re soaking wet thinking about my hard dick. I know I’m hard just from the memories.”
Gail’s breathing is labored, and I know I’m fucking right; she’s wet. “Y-you’re hard right now?” she asks, lust coating her words.
“I am,” I confirm. I move my free hand to my cock, cupping the length. “Want to feel it?”
She shakes her head vehemently. “No.”
“What a shame,” I rasp, pulling around a corner to a dark alley.
“Where are you going?” she asks, suddenly sounding nervous.
Instead of answering, I move my hand to the nape of her neck and squeeze. “Open your pants for me.”
“What? No. No way. I’m not doing that,” she squeaks.
I add pressure to her neck. “Don’t make me say it again. You know the rules, whore.” I deliberately use the tone I used at Cupid’s Court when giving her orders. “Open your pants. Now!”
She doesn’t immediately move, instead staring defiantly at me. Her nostrils flare, and I can see her considering all the ways she wants to hurt me flash in her eyes. But before I can repeat the demand, she lets out a shuddering breath and quickly pops the button and lowers the zipper on her jeans.
“Such a good whore,” I croon. Then I let go of the steering wheel and angle myself so I can slide my hand inside, cupping her cunt. I can feel her wetness through her damp panties. “So you are wet.”
“Yes,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “I’m always wet around you guys.” Fuck, that admission goes straight to my cock.
I pinch her clit, hard. “Look at me,” I command harshly. “Don’t look away unless I tell you it’s okay.”
Moving my fingers under the fabric, I slide my digits along her swollen folds. “Do you want my fingers inside your greedy cunt?” I rasp. She whimpers and bites down on her bottom lip.
When she squeezes her legs together and turns her head away. I pinch her clit again, hard enough that she cries out. “N-no.” Defiance burns in her eyes as she looks at me again. “I don’t want you to touch me at all, Soren.” Her tone is pure frost.
Unable to hold back, I lean closer, nuzzling my face against the crook of her neck while I part her pussy lips. Then I push two fingers inside her. “Your body wants me,” I rasp. “You’re drenched.”
My fingers thrust in and out of her as I lick, kiss, and nibble my way up her slender neck. Reaching her ear, I bite down on the lobe until she cries out and her pussy contracts around my fingers. More wetness pools, making it clear just how much she enjoys this.
“Do you want to come?” I ask, tightening my hold on her neck.
“I already said no,” she hisses.
“Don’t lie to me.”
She moans when I scissor my fingers, making sure to touch the spongy walls inside her. “I’m not fucking lying,” she cries, lifting her hips so I can go deeper. “My body might want you, Soren. But make no mistake, I fucking hate you right now.”
Maybe she’s speaking the truth, but I don’t care. I’m far beyond caring with my fingers buried deep inside her, and the sweet scent of her arousal spreading to my nostrils. She’s lying. I know she is, but it doesn’t sound like she knows it.
“Hate me all you want,” I rasp. “But I’m going to make you scream my name.”
I pick up my pace, fucking her harder. Thrusting my fingers all the way inside her until she’s shaking and moaning incoherent words. Her eyelids droop, but before they fall all the way closed, she forces herself to look back at me. Her cheeks are rosy and pleasure swims in her blue eyes.
“Soren!”
“Come for me,” I demand harshly. “Come all over my fingers like a good fucking whore.”
With a cry, she detonates. She throws her head back and her eyes are squeezed shut. She gyrates her hips, eagerly seeking out my touch. Without warning, she lifts her arm and wraps it around my neck, using the hold to pull me closer.
“What are you—”
Gail slams her lips to mine, moaning into my mouth as our tongues stroke each other. Our teeth clash, she even knicks my bottom lip. There’s nothing gentle in the way she takes what she wants, and fuck me, I love it so much I flex my hand still on her throat.
I ease my fingers out and move them to her clit, rolling and pinching it to prolong her orgasm, and I don’t stop until she breaks our kiss so she can beg me to let go.
“It’s too much,” she moans shakily.
Removing my hand from her pussy, I bring the fingers coated in her wetness to my mouth. With my hold on her neck, I force her to watch as I lick the digits clean, moaning as her taste hits me. “You taste so fucking good,” I groan.
Then I let go of her neck and sit back in my seat, intending to start the car and drive us back. But before I get the vehicle started, Gail leans closer, her hand palming my hardness. “Where’s my payment?” she asks.
I chuckle. “In the fucking trunk.”
She looks outraged. “You’re paying me in fucking food and vitamins?”
Shrugging, I add, “And a few blankets and an orgasm.”
Tightening her hold on my cock, she licks her lips. “I don’t think so,” she purrs. “I’m not done with you yet, Soren.”