Chapter 41 #2
All these months later, and I’m still in awe of his beauty.
His body is sculpted perfection, hard yet silky smooth.
I can’t help but stare at the virile organ between his muscular thighs.
It’s long and so very thick. Even from my position on the bed, I can clearly see the throbbing veins in his proud flesh.
Sandman has the power to give me immeasurable pleasure or the worst kind of pain.
It depends on how he chooses to wield what he was blessed with.
I shake my head. “No, you can’t force me. Not while I’m pregnant.”
“Sweet Zilphia, you’re about to see just how wrong you are,” he hisses and begins tearing at my dress.
“No!” I scream, trying my hardest to fight him.
I kick, scratch, and punch with everything I have, but he’s too damn strong.
Even with my big belly, he still outweighs me by at least fifty pounds.
He effortlessly rips my dress, bra, and panties from my body, leaving me bleeding where the fabric dug into my skin.
He locks his big hands around my ankles and spreads my legs apart, exposing me to his wild gaze.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Mine,” he proclaims, yanking my legs over his shoulders. “All mine.”
“Let me go!” I yell, tears of frustration burning my eyes.
In a last-ditch attempt to escape, I throw myself onto my side and reach for the lamp on the nightstand. Victory is at my fingertips, but he flips me onto my back and slams into my pussy, rocking his hips until he’s fully seated inside me.
“Fuck yes,” he rasps, his handsome features twisting with unadulterated rapture.
He won. He always does. I turn my head, tears slipping from my eyes.
“Fighting is pointless, Zilphia.” He bands his forearms across the area just below my knees, holding me tight against his chest. “And so are your tears.”
He pounds into me without an ounce of humanity. I place a hand on his abdomen and clasp his thigh with the other, anchoring myself against his assault. Each thrust reverberates through my entire being, hitting every erogenous zone inside my warm depths and shaking me to my very marrow.
Throbbing pressure explodes between my thighs and spirals outward, making me dizzy with pleasure.
A throaty moan sweeps past my lips as my wet passage clenches around Sandman’s length, sending him into a primal frenzy.
He looks like his club’s namesake towering above me, plunging in and out of my pussy, whisps of his blond mane clinging to his sweaty face.
“So goddamn good,” he praises, then licks along the bottom of my left foot before sucking each toe into his hungry mouth.
My back arches off the bed. I’m so close. “Oh God, I feel it. I feel it, Sandman.”
“That’s right, sweet Zilphia,” he groans between open-mouthed kisses on my foot. “Come for me. Fuck, so good. I’m going to fill that pretty little pussy up.”
“Oh God!” I cry out, squirting all over his dick, soaking the sheets beneath my undulating body. “Yes, yes, yes!” I claw my fingernails into his golden skin, my legs shaking violently.
“Zilphia!” he shouts, driving into me so hard my body lifts off the bed.
His cum floods my pussy, spilling from my spasming walls and trickling down to my ass.
“Good girl. Grip my cock just like that. Fuck.” He gives one final bone-jarring thrust before slipping from my sore pussy and resting his head on my round belly.
One of the little humans in my womb does a somersault, or at least what feels like a somersault, and Sandman pops his head up, a genuine smile stretching his lips.
I’ve never seen him smile like this before.
He already loves them unconditionally. Will he ever love me?
To be loved by him must be a powerful thing, ten times more powerful than his hate.
“Having fun in there?” he says, peppering kisses along my swollen midsection.
A knock sounds at the door. “Sandman, you in there?”
“What the fuck do you want, Cricket?” he growls, looking back at the door. “I’m busy.”
“Zilphia has a visitor.”
Sandman turns his narrowed gaze on me. “Expecting someone?”
“No,” I frown, clueless about who it could be. Besides my two best friends, I didn’t invite anyone else.
Sandman saunters to the door without bothering to cover up his nakedness and jerks it open. “Who is it?”
“Zilphia’s mother.”
Sandman nods and closes the door, then turns to face me.
“I haven’t spoken to her since she left.” I can’t believe she has the audacity to show up here after all the chaos she caused.
He grabs my duffel bag off the dresser and tosses it on the bed. “Get dressed.”
I packed a sweater and leggings just in case I wanted to get comfortable later. It’s a good thing too, since Sandman ruined my beautiful dress. Meela isn’t going to be happy about that one bit.
We dress quickly, and I follow Sandman into a small sitting room near the front of the clubhouse. Cricket and the woman who birthed me sit on opposite ends of the sofa, staring daggers at each other. He vacates the room with a mumbled, “Bitch thinks she’s royalty.”
Anger clogs my throat at the sight of her. I want to scream, rant, call her every obscenity in the human language, but no words come out. I’m too angry to speak.
Then I take in her appearance. No makeup, bags under her eyes, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, clothes rumpled and stained. She’s had it rough. It’s no less than what she deserves.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” she states, gesturing toward my round belly. “I hear you’re having twin girls. I’m having a daughter too.” She shifts her gaze to Sandman. “The father, I presume?”
“Why are you here?” I snap, not in the mood for fake pleasantries.
She leaps to her feet. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’m your mother—”
“You are not my mother!” I yell so loud she jumps. “You brought me into this world, but you were never a mother to me. Answer the fucking question.”
Sandman stands to my right, watching the argument unfold in silence.
“I’m not perfect, Zilphia,” she says, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “I never claimed to be, but I raised you the best way I knew how.”
“Spare me the fucking crocodile tears, Loretta.” She sucks in a sharp breath at the use of her given name. “How could you miss her funeral? Your own mother?” I lose it then, several errant tears tumbling down my cheeks.
“We didn’t want to cause trouble.”
I laugh. “Then you shouldn’t have fucked your sister’s husband. Leave, you’re not welcome here.”
“Zilphia, please. I have nowhere else to go.” Loretta Kensley begging. Never thought I’d see the day.
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Where’s Keith?”
“He abandoned me.” She places a hand on her plump stomach. “What kind of man abandons his pregnant fiancée?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I comment sarcastically. “Maybe the same kind of man who abandons his pregnant wife.” What is this woman smoking?
“She’s your sister, Zilphia. No matter how you feel about me, remember that. I have no money, nowhere to go, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I need prenatal vitamins and medical care. Are you really going to send me away to sleep on the streets?”
I want to tell her to kiss my ass, to leave and never show her face again, but I can’t. I need to know that my sister is going to be okay.
I look at Sandman. “Please, for my sister.”
His contemplative gaze studies me for long seconds, and I’m afraid he’s going to toss her on the streets. He isn’t exactly known for his empathic nature, but he surprises me.
“You better get yourself together pronto after that baby’s born, because you ain’t living off my dime,” he tells her.