28. Sarah
28
SARAH
My heart is beating fast from the things he's doing to me with his mouth and hands. I try to get as close to him as possible, wanting more than anything for him to fill me up.
Just when I'm about to beg him to fuck me against the wall, he speaks.
“Do you still want to go?”
It's like cold water being poured on one's head. My eyes immediately snap open, and I push my body upright, forcing our eyes to meet.
Although he's giving me an out, I can tell from the pleading look in his eyes that he doesn't want me to leave.
Why offer me an out if he doesn't want me to take it? He can be so confusing at times.
Breaking our gaze, I look behind him, the plate of food I brought for him long forgotten.
Emotions lodge in my throat, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe or speak, so I force a swallow and take in some air through my mouth.
Although he's no longer doing anything, his hands are still on my breasts, and his erection is pressing right into my belly. His body's heat is still radiating into mine.
“Sex is not going to solve our issues,” I say.
He doesn't say anything, but he does something. He squeezes my soft and sensitive flesh in his hold, intentionally letting his thumbs graze over my nipples.
“It'll make us feel good,” he whispers, and I agree with him.
Yes, it will.
It would be so much fun to just let him take me against this wall right now and fuck me until I can no longer stand on my feet. But what good would it do to either of us?
His head falls into the space between my neck, and he bites me there, intentionally letting his tongue circle the sensitive skin every millisecond.
“Ian,” I breathe out, both in protest and pleasure.
“Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”
He knows I can't say that. I'd be lying if I did.
I do not want him to stop, but I also do not think this will get us anywhere.
It's not going to change anything. I'm still mad at him. I'm still keeping the fact that I'm pregnant with his child from him, and I'm still not sure I'll ever tell him.
Not to mention that he hasn't once mentioned our earlier altercation since he got here.
Is he even bothered about this as I am?
“Stop,” he says with a sigh and pulls away from me.
Letting our eyes meet, I squint at him in confusion.
“Stop what?” I ask him.
“Stop letting your head dictate what you should do for you. Once in a while, let your body speak, too.”
He thinks I haven't been following my emotions?
The only reason I'm pregnant and unable to tell him is because I was too into him emotionally to care about whether he used a condom or not.
I didn't even remember that we had unprotected sex!
While I don't make a habit out of sleeping with men randomly or frequently, I sure as hell don't let their dick near me unless it's properly wrapped.
My pregnancy with Olivia was because of failed birth control, and while I was sad about it at the time of the incident, I simply can't imagine my life without that girl. Just like I can't stop thinking about how much this new child is going to mean to me.
I'm going to love him or her like my life depends on it.
So if Ian thinks I'm cold, then he has another thing coming.
Placing my palms on his chest, I try to push him away from me, but I'm no match for his strength.
“Get away from me!” I snap.
Although he doesn't move, he regards me with concern. “What? Why? Did I say something wrong?”
“Damn right, you did! How dare you accuse me of being cold when you've been the one pushing me away all our lives!”
“I didn't say you were cold, I said?—“
“I don't care what you said!” I snap, cutting him off. “Let me go.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not when you're this angry. Let's talk this through.”
A wry laugh escapes me. “Well that's funny, don't you think? You didn't seem to care about that when you left me earlier!”
“That's not fair, Sarah. You asked me to leave!”
“And I'm asking you to let me go now, but do you really think I mean that?”
We both stop talking, his eyes holding me hostage as my words settle into his brain.
“Sarah.” He breathes heavily, his eyes crazed with emotions I can't define.
His mouth is on mine before I know it. And my hands go to the back of his head on their own accord, holding him to me like a lifeline.
I'm crazy about this man. I always have been. Will that ever change, even when I leave?
Will I be able to forget him again and try to move on now that I'm carrying his child?
My head runs wild with thoughts of having to live without him, and it makes my blood pump and my moves frantic as I come to the realization that this might be the last time I get to have him like this.
I love him, don't I?
I'm not sure, but goddamn it if what I'm feeling as he continues to kiss me while he slowly peels every piece of clothing off my body isn't akin to love.
He takes my hand to his waist, right at the edge of his towel, and he taps my palm, giving me the final say.
This goes on if I loosen the towel. He'll let me go if I don't.
I don't have to think much before I spring into action.
Yanking the towel off his body, I put one of my legs around his waist so I can feel him right against my core.
“Perfect,” I whisper, and I've never meant a word more than this.
“I’m glad you think so.”
He feels just right as he starts to grind against me, finding the right rhythm to drive me mad.
A smile breaks over my face. We used to do this back in the day. Exchanging words, synonyms, and near meanings, until the other person runs out. The only difference this time is that this isn't just something we're doing as a competition. It's something we're doing to bond.
“Unique,” I say.
He chuckles, bringing his head back up so our eyes meet and then he puts a hand between us where he finds my clit and starts to apply pleasure to it.
Goosebumps break over my skin, and I start to lose my vision.
“Extraordinary,” he says to get me to open my eyes.
Smiling, I take a hand to his jaw.
“Want to know what will be amazing?” I ask him.
“Tell me what's going to be out of this world,” he throws back at me.
“Your dick in my pussy, taking ownership of it and pounding me until I can't think straight will be wonderful.” I'm breathless by the time I'm done speaking as his dick has now found my hole, and he's holding himself right at my entrance.
“Fuck.” He groans and pushes right into me, both of us expressing our pleasure with words and sounds.
Teasing and word play sail right out of the room, and the only thing that exists is him.
He thrusts, I take, try to give back to him, and then he thrusts harder, making me lose my stance. I try to meet his move, and he thrusts harder.
It goes on for only a few minutes, but honestly it feels like hours when we're finally both shaking and holding onto each other as our orgasm ripples through our bodies.
When it's all done, we remain standing. Me with my back on the wall, one of my legs around his waist. Him between my legs, his dick in my pussy and his head on my shoulder.
It's the perfect picture of passion. Except what just happened was just an act of lust. I know this by the sigh that leaves him only a few minutes after his orgasm, before he pecks me on the cheek and removes his dick from my pussy, leaving me empty.
As he settles on the bed, not bothering to ask me to join him, I bend down and start to pick up my clothes and put them on.
When he finally deems me worthy of his gaze, it's with confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I waste not a single second stopping to answer him because I know what I'm doing is quite clear.
When I'm finally done getting dressed, I walk toward the door and open it.
“Sarah.” He says my name just as I take my first step out.
I pause, wanting more than anything to look back at him. But what good will it do?
He's not going to say he loves me.
So, I take the high road and get us both out of an awkward situation.
“Good night, Ian,” I say and finally take another step out, after which I close the door.
I go straight to the kitchen, my throat now suddenly feeling dry and in need of water.
My legs feel ready to give out under me at any moment as I walk but I soldier on regardless, not stopping until I'm in front of the fridge and pulling out a jar filled with iced tea. I pour myself a glass and drain it on the spot.
I'm about to fetch another glass when I hear a voice.
“You must be really thirsty. I wonder why.”
Sheila.
The teasing in her tone tells me she heard us.
Damn it. This is her house. I shouldn't have been disrespecting her like that or been so loud while at it.
I sigh in frustration and pour myself another glass before I place the jar inside the fridge.
“You heard us,” I say as I take a sip of my drink.
“I think everyone in the vicinity heard you guys.”
Great.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper remorsefully, my face down as I place my glass on the counter and let my palms rest on the edge.
“You’re not a child,” she says. I see her walking inside from the side of my eyes.
When she's by my side, she speaks. “I didn't hear you telling him about the baby.”
“Auntie,” I protest.
“Or that you're moving.” She continues like I didn’t anything.
“Auntie, please.”
“Sarah, you really think he wouldn't want to know that he's going to be a father?”
I don't know.
And I can't take any chances.
“Just let it go, please. If I do decide to tell him, I want it to be my choice.”
She nods. “So, you're still leaving.”
“I have no choice.”
I can tell she wants to protest, but she doesn't.
“Well you better get to bed then because something tells me that agent of yours is going to have a new house ready for you when the day breaks.”
I know.
Tim is that effective.
I smile at her and move close to her long enough to kiss her cheek before I walk out of the kitchen and head to my room, where I climb into the bed, and fall asleep a few minutes later, then spend the rest of the night in a dream where I’ve told Ian about the pregnancy and he was very happy.
Deep in my subconscious, I know it's a dream, though. And even while I celebrate in my sleep, my heart still aches.
Ian will never accept my child.