Chapter 5
I’d barely registered the sensation of cool air hitting my bare vagina before my legs were pried open.
Kaynaan moved down my body, and next thing I knew, he was tongue kissing my clit.
My eyes immediately rolled to the back of my head at the sheer intensity of the pleasure he was creating in my core.
Only one thought ran through my mind as I fought not to levitate off the bed: Damn, his mouth is juicy.
My hands made their way to the back of his head. My hips bucked off the bed, and I thrusted my vagina further into his mouth. He responded in kind by licking, sucking, biting, and teasing me more thoroughly.
My toes curled into the plush mattress, as I acquiesced to the waves of bliss.
My body hummed under the command of Kaynaan’s attention, and my mouth followed suit—moaning and whimpering in delight.
His mouth on me was like being strapped to electrodes that were programmed to send shocks throughout my body at various levels of intensity in mind-numbing increments.
Just when I was sure that I was about to lose consciousness, a surge of euphoria washed over me with a ferociousness I had never experienced.
The moans felt like they started in my calves and tore from my throat so loudly that I felt like they shook the bedroom walls.
“That’s right.” He climbed up my body and whispered in my ear. “Gimme my shit.”
Hell, if that was how he was coming, he could have all his shit, and mine, too. While I was busy thinking thoughts and trying to float back down to Earth, Kaynaan was sheathing himself. Then with the speed of the elite athlete he was, he nestled himself between my legs and entered me.
The stretching was immediate and glorious. All I could do was offer up a sigh of contentment.
“Your pussy is so fucking wet. So fucking good.” His voice was husky in my ear. He dropped kisses along my jawline as he continued to thrust in and out of me.
Kisses in the crook of my neck.
Kisses on the flat of my chest.
Kisses at the swell of my left breast and then the right one.
I cradled him in my arms as he plowed into me. He slowly deep-stroked me, and I felt every inch of him in my chest. Perfectly timed strokes that hesitated just long enough for me to float in pleasure for a few seconds before the next mind-blowing stroke arrived.
I lifted my hips and met every crash with a crash of my own, vocalizing my pleasure and digging my fingernails into the skin on his back.
I tried to make thoughts as we connected, but my mind would only remind me of the sensations I was feeling.
Tingles were happening in so many places .
. . in my scalp, in my breasts, in my stomach, and in my vagina.
I couldn’t even concentrate on every place that Kaynaan had me feeling good.
All I could do was moan his name and throw this ass at him like he’d earned it. Because of course, he had.
He brought his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply, his tongue rubbing against mine with passion. I could not get enough of him. I pushed my head up from the pillow to deepen the kiss, even though he was already kissing me like it was our last moment on Earth.
When we broke the kiss, he moved his mouth to my ear and said one word. “Perfect.”
His hands moved under my ass, allowing him to delve even deeper. There was no way to keep myself from yelling out. From screaming out. From pushing my hips up toward him.
“I’m about to cum,” I said through no volition of my own. I had never announced anything like that in my entire life.
“Gimme my shit.” His voice was raspy as he seemed to kick into overdrive.
Within seconds, the little thunderstorm that had started to build in my stomach turned into a full scale tornado, and I was flying over the edge of self-control, experiencing the hardest orgasm ever and screaming at the top of my lungs about it.
I took off work on Monday. After spending Friday and Saturday doing all the things that homecoming had to offer, and spending Sunday morning and afternoon having raunchy sex with Kaynaan’s sexy, gorgeous ass, I was exhausted.
But Tuesday morning, I was back at it bright and early. I wanted to work on the orders from the expo and see what other business I could drum up. LoLo showed up with coffee in hand, no sooner than I’d turned my computer and printer on.
“Good morning,” she crooned, placing both of our drinks on the counter so she could give me a quick hug.
“Good morning. Thanks for bringing coffee,” I said once I released her.
“You know Tuesday is the day Dr. Jennison opens the office late.” LoLo was a dental hygienist. Her office was literally blocks from mine, so whenever she had a free moment, she stopped by.
“I’m so glad,” I assured her.
“Me, too. Because I need to hear about how this date with the sexy footballer went.”
I looked down at the floor before making eye contact with her. “Lo, your best friend is a ho.”
She burst out laughing.
“Stop laughing. I’m serious. I’ve let two men from the same team slut me out.”
“Quit trippin’.” She waved me off dismissively. “You act like you let them do it together, on some tag-team, pass around shit. Being slutted out by two professional football players, months apart, doesn’t make you a ho . . . It makes you presumably well fucked.”
I reached for my coffee and took a tentative sip, then stared at the cup suspiciously.
Before I knew what was happening, my stomach churned.
I felt like I was about to throw up. But just as quickly as the wave of nausea came, it died down.
“Oh no,” I said, before grabbing my purse from beneath the counter and fishing out my phone.
“What?”
“Oh no. Please God, no.”
“What, boo? What’s happening?”
I quickly navigated to my period tracking app. “The coffee tasted weird going down. Then I felt like I might puke. The last time I felt like that . . .” I let my thoughts trail off as I pulled up the last time I had a period versus when I expected one.
“You can’t be pregnant, Wyn. It’s been like, two months since you messed around with Preston. And you just messed around with Kaynaan a few days ago. He could have super sperm, but it ain’t that super.”
I didn’t laugh at her joke, because my brain was screaming at me with alarm bells. “It’s been almost nine weeks since I last had my period.”
“How did you not know this?” she yelled.
“I knew,” I admitted. “But I’ve been under a lot of stress about the money I spent on Preston’s party and how I would make it back up. Whenever I’m under stress, two things happen: My period checks out, and my hair starts breaking. You know this.”
She nodded, because she did know that. Before I suffered a miscarriage, my periods were as regular as clockwork. Once I lost the baby, my periods had never returned to normal.
“Okay,” she said. “Don’t panic. The nausea passed, right? Maybe something is wrong with your coffee.”
I wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Lo. I’ve felt that feeling before. And the last time I felt it, I was pregnant.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, and I could see that she was trying to stay calm. “Let’s go get some pregnancy tests.”
At-home pregnancy tests were triggering for me. They never were at first. When I was with my ex, Channing, I bought and took them a couple of times after irresponsible slipups. I was always thankful when they came back negative, because we were young and weren’t ready for parenthood.
As teenage love grew into mature love, Channing and I looked around, and we weren’t in our early twenties anymore. We loved each other deeply. We had history. We’d grown up together. The thought of a pregnancy stopped being so scary.
A couple of years after we’d graduated college, once we were both established in our careers—him as a project manager for a huge banking conglomerate, and me as an art teacher—we decided that we were it for each other.
It was time to do the inevitable, prepare for marriage.
I got the ring and the proposal, then we both got the gift of a positive pregnancy test.
I couldn’t believe that I was pregnant and engaged.
The pieces of my life were falling into place, and I was the happiest I had probably ever been.
Channing and I dreamed together—imagining our wedding, our custom-built house, and our new little bundle of joy.
It didn’t seem real. I was constantly pinching myself.
It was real, though. Wedding planning kept moving along. We kept house hunting every weekend. And I kept peeing on those little sticks to convince myself that I was still pregnant. A couple of times a week, I peed on a stick and silently celebrated when the two lines showed up.
Everything was sunshine and butterflies until Channing and I went to our twelve-week appointment.
The ultrasound tech didn’t seem concerned at all when she pulled the little miracle up on the screen.
But when the baby measured at nine weeks and five days, I knew something was wrong.
I was twelve weeks pregnant. How could the baby measure at nine weeks?
My doctor called it a “missed miscarriage.” The baby had stopped developing, but my body didn’t recognize the loss. My body thought the baby was fine and that the pregnancy was still progressing. All along, I was carrying around a baby that would never come to fruition.
I shook my head at LoLo. “You know I don’t trust at-home pregnancy test. I’ll make an appointment with my doctor.”
The next day, I was the last appointment on Dr. Butler’s schedule. LoLo stood on the side, holding my hand as my ob-gyn did the initial examination. “Okay. Something is definitely happening here. Let’s get the tech in here to do some actual measurements.”
“Okay.” I agreed.
“Get dressed. Let me catch her before she leaves for the day.
About twenty minutes later, the tech drenched my stomach in gel and began to get the pictures that Dr. Butler would need. About twenty minutes after that, I was back in the exam room waiting to hear what my doctor had to say.
“First of all, I want to say congratulations, Wyndsor. You’re definitely pregnant.”
I held my breath.
Dr. Butler rested her hands on top of LoLo’s, so the three of us were all touching hands.
“And I’m ecstatic to tell you that the images match up with when you last had a period.
The images show a fetus at eight weeks and six days.
You’ll be nine weeks tomorrow. The images showed a beating heart, so let’s listen to it and get you some pictures before I send you home tonight. ”
“Okay,” I managed to say.
She quickly set up the doppler, and before I knew what was happening, the quick pitter-patter of my baby’s heartbeat filled the room. That was when the tears that had been threatening to fall finally fell.
LoLo wanted to hang out once we left the doctor, but I had too many thoughts racing through my mind.
The last time I was pregnant, I was in a committed relationship with a man who was willing to pledge his love to me.
This time, I was pregnant by a jump-off.
I needed to come to terms, like really come to terms with what this pregnancy meant. I opted to go home.
Once at home, I ate, showered, and got comfortable on my sofa before calling Preston. My hands were shaking, and my heart was practically beating out of my chest. It would’ve been so much easier to just text him, but I thought it would be better to give him the courtesy of a call.
After about four rings, he answered. “What’s up?” His greeting was dry, but I didn’t let that deter me. I didn’t call him to kick it; I just needed to tell him what was up.
“Hey, Preston. I apologize for calling you out of the blue like this, but I got some news today, and I didn’t want to text it. I’m pregnant.”
“What the fuck you just say?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
“What the fuck you tellin’ me for? We was just fuckin’ around. This sounds like some bullshit.”
“Listen, I wouldn’t call you on no bullshit. The morning of the party, we had sex. You were supposed to pull out. Did you fuck up the pullout?”
“Nigga, what? What is you talkin’ ’bout?”
He was pissing me off. Knowing how irritating he could be, I should’ve prepared for that possibility. “I’m talking about you fucking up the pullout and leaving me a little gift I didn’t ask for, nigga.”
“Shorty, please. I never fuck tricks without protection. You was a trick.”
“You were a trick, too,” I assured him. “My little YN jump-off. That’s neither here nor there. You clearly fucked up the pullout the morning of the party, because I’m pregnant.”
He sighed deeply. “This your way of getting money from me?”
“Nice try, boo. I’m not one of your family members.
This is my way of letting you know what’s up.
Do with the information what you will, and have a nice life.
” I never missed the days of landline phones so much.
I wanted to slam the phone down in his ear.
Before I could end the call, he said my name.
Well, not my actual name. He pretended not to know my actual name.
“Wynnie.”
“Stop calling me that!” I fussed. “My name is Wyndi. Like when the wind is blowing outside? Wyndi.”
“Whatever the fuck your name is, if you are pregnant, you need to get rid of it. ASAP.”
“Like I said, have a nice life.” I flung the phone to the other side of the sofa and brought both hands up to my face. “Aah!” I screamed into the silence of my home.
This was the worst possible way this could happen.
“Pregnant, after ho behavior and when everything is fucked up,” I mumbled to myself.
“No man. Random baby’s daddy that will probably never make an effort to know the child.
Pregnant after I blew my savings on the same fuck nigga who will probably never make an effort to know the child.
New man on the horizon who offers all the best possibilities.
Gotta tell him I’m pregnant by his teammate, after me and him spent a weekend fucking up on each other. More ho behavior.”
My phone buzzed with a text notification. I grabbed it from where I’d tossed it aside.
Kaynaan:
What’s up, Brown Eyes?
I read the text until the tears falling from my eyes blurred my vision. What was up was that a bad decision had just turned my life upside down.