Chapter 45
Skylar
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He pulls out of me. "I shouldn’t have come inside you without protection." He looks down to where his cum, and mine, I’m sure, drips down my thighs. His features tighten, his lips curl, then as if he can’t help himself, he pushes the moisture back inside me.
"But now that I have, there’s no going back. "
"There isn’t any going back for me, either."
He glances up at me, and a resolute look settles on his features. "Promise me, you’ll always trust me."
"Of course, I trust you."
He scoops up some of the mixture from my pussy, then paints it on my lips. "Even when it seems you can’t, especially when you’re sure you can’t… It’s then, I want you to remember this conversation. Remember the taste of us on your tongue."
I lick my lips and the salty-sweet, tangy taste fills my senses. "I’ll never forget it."
"The weight of my body on yours." He pushes his hips into mine, so his cock settles into the space between my thighs. "Remember that."
"It’s imprinted into me." I tug on my arms, and he releases me.
I cup his cheek. "What are you not telling me, Nate?"
He opens his mouth, then shuts it. "I want to tell you everything, but I can’t." There’s something tortured in his eyes, something that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. "It’s not time yet."
"I’m so confused." I look between those beloved mismatched eyes of his. "I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me."
He looks away and seems to compose himself. When he looks back at me, his gaze is clear again. "You’ll know everything when the time is right, I promise."
I told him I trust him, but for the first time, tendrils of doubt slither across my mind. What is happening? What is going on with him? Does he really love me? Is that what this is about? "Is there something about Hugo’s condition that you’re not telling me?"
"Hugo?" He frowns. "No, of course not. You consulted with the doctors; you know everything there is to know."
I relax slightly. "Okay."
"Okay." He straightens, then pulls my panties back into place, before tugging my dress down to cover my thighs. "You’ll let me know if there are any… consequences?"
He pulls me up to sitting and I tilt my head. "You mean, if I get pregnant?"
His jaw stiffens, then he jerks his chin.
"Are you worried I might be pregnant?"
"If you are… We’ll deal with it."
"Hold on." I push at him, but of course, he refuses to step away. "What do you mean, deal with it?"
"I mean, we’ll figure out what to do about it."
"It… You mean your child and mine?"
"It’s hypothetical at this moment, but that’s what I mean, yes." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. There’s probably nothing here to discuss, but if you are—"
"Then I’d be so very happy. Wouldn’t you?"
He looks away again, then takes a step back. And the cold air seems to rush in between us.
“Nate?” I slide off the desk, then draw in a sharp breath when the cum slides down between my legs. He turns to me at once. His sharp, heterochromatic gaze must follow mine to where I’m staring at the moisture that glistens below the hem of my dress.
"Jesus," he breaths, then once more, sinks down to his knees. "Fuck." He wraps his thick fingers round each of my calves, his digits long enough to meet around the other side, and it’s not like my legs are on the slimmer side, either. But the way he slides his fingers up, until he’s able to scoop up the trail of liquid, makes me feel fragile and ethereal. But I’ve always felt delicate with him. The way he handles my body with care, but also with a confidence that says he’s comfortable with my size, does wonders for my self-confidence.
It’s only with him, I feel myself. It’s only around him, I can act like I’m normal size and not fat.
Oh, I’m good at putting on an act in front of everyone, but there are still times when I look at the mirror and wish I was an M, if not a S.
He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it, and I can almost taste our joined-up cum.
"I’m sorry." He looks up at me from his position at my knees. "I’m a selfish bastard. I should be worried about how you feel that I was bareback inside you. Instead, all I can focus on is my hang ups."
"For the record, I’m happy you didn’t use a condom."
"For the record, I’m fucking turned on that you’re going to be walking around all evening with my cum dripping out of your cunt."
And just like that, sparks unfurl again in my belly.
"So, you’ll be fine if I’m pregnant?"
His gaze widens, before those damn shutters come down over his eyes. "We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it." He smooths my skirt down, then stands, so once again, he’s towering over me. "Arthur’s expecting us at the 7A Club."
"The 7A Club?"
"For some reason, it’s not his place today, and he wants the family together." He raises his shoulders.
"I can’t leave my employee to close the shop again."
"She’s doing well, so far, isn’t she?"
"She is," I acknowledge.
"And you have the money to pay her overtime."
"I…do," I say slowly.
"Bet she’ll be happy for the extra cash."
"Do you always have to be so annoyingly right?"
"Not always." He takes my hand in his, and bringing it to his mouth, kisses my knuckles. "Though, I wish I were."
And there it is again—cryptic words, that hidden expression in his eyes. I open my mouth to ask him about it, but he shakes his head. "Not this evening. I promise, I’ll tell you when the time is right."
I don’t want to let it go; I don’t. But it’s not like belaboring the point is going to help me, either. If anything, it’s making him pull away from me further. So I nod. "Not this evening."
"Good." He hooks my arm through his. "Ready to leave?"
No, we didn’t take the whirly-bird, which had, apparently, taken off at some point when he was inside me. And it’s a good thing, too, else it would’ve resulted in a traffic jam. Instead, his car and the driver, who I now recognize, were waiting for us at the curb.
And yes, my employee was only too happy to close up. She was thrilled at the prospect of overtime pay, and she didn’t show any reaction to the sounds she must have heard from my office. No doubt, she’s going to gossip about it to her friends, but whatever. What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?
On the ride over, he busied himself on his phone. Looking at his hard profile, it was difficult to reconcile this emotionless, distant man with the one who took a helicopter across town, just so he could get his wife off.
Is the prospect of having a child that worrying for him? And yet, he was turned on by the sight of his cum leaking out of my pussy. So why is he being so aloof now?
I reach for my phone, mostly to stop myself from saying anything to him. There are a series of messages from the girls in our shared chat group.
Zoey: I know you’re in post-marital bliss but you’re not allowed to forget your friends *crying face emoji*
Grace: Girl that was the most beautiful ceremony ever and I can’t get over how your husband couldn’t wait to get you out of there to consummate the wedding! *eggplant emoji, cat emoji, sweat emoji* Enjoy!!!! But I want to know all the details.
Harper: I’m so sorry I missed it. I am so pissed at my boss right now! I can’t believe he refused to give me the day off!!! *angry face emoji*
Me: Haven’t forgotten you guys… Okay so maybe I did forget everyone and everything for a few minutes there but…
You know how it is. *winking emoji* And no I’m absolutely not sharing those details.
Harper I missed you too. Look on the positive side.
Your boss couldn’t do without you for even a day which means he needs you which is always a good thing.
Oh and Grace? It’s more like *snake emoji, peach emoji, hand emoji*
The three dots at the bottom of the group begin to jump around at once. I’ll bet that’s Zoey or Grace; those two are never far from their phones. Unlike Harper, who, like me, doesn’t look at her phone when she’s in the kitchen.
"What’s so funny?" I glance up to find my husband watching me.
I put my phone away at once. Not that I have anything to feel guilty about, but considering I was describing the fully-loaded, XXL-sized banana split he sports between his thighs, I can’t stop myself from reddening.
"Nothing’s funny.” I cough into my hand. “What gave you that idea?"
"You were chuckling to yourself."
"Was I?" I school my features into a look of what I hope looks like innocence. "I have a bad habit of talking to myself."
"Hmm." His lips twist, and something tells me I am not fooling him.
“How are you friends, by the way?” he drawls.
I blush all the way to the roots of my hair. “M-my friends?”
“You’re talking to them, aren’t you?”
I nod dumbly. Surely, he doesn’t know what we were discussing?
“Give them my regards.”
“I will,” I squeak.
Thankfully, he goes back to whatever it was he was doing on his phone and doesn’t ask me any more questions. Some of the tension drains from my shoulders.
"Do you meet Arthur and your brothers—"
"—half-brothers," he corrects me.
"Half-brothers. Do you meet them often?"
"Arthur wants us to have lunch as a family on the weekends."
Of course, being in the service industry, every day is a working day.
In fact, Sundays are when I make a lot of sales from families who are out and about.
It’s another thing I didn’t fully understand when I started this business.
It’s like having a real-life baby. You can never leave home, unless there’s someone tending the baby—I mean, bakery—for the day.
Most days, I don’t mind, but sometimes, I want to sleep late on a weekend and just be lazy.
And now, with the team I’ve hired, I can do that, from time to time.
Honestly, the morning prep is so essential, I don’t like to miss it.
But most days, I don’t even have to close, the staff takes care of that.
And it’s thanks to him giving me the money to hire them, and then he went a step further by arranging for me to interview the prospective candidates.
It facilitated the process and helped me onboard the team in a much shorter time than I thought possible.
He’s so thoughtful, and that’s so unexpected.
Given his gruff, sometimes distant persona, I never did expect him to be this caring.
And he shows me he is at every turn. So, why can’t he share whatever it is that’s weighing on his mind?
Is it something that’s going to upset me?
Could it be an ex-girlfriend or an ex-wife, even?
I never asked him if he was married before.
"Were you married before?"
"What?" He blinks.
"Do you have an ex-wife? Or someone you fell in love with before? Is that what you want to tell me?"
He finishes whatever he’s typing into his phone, then puts it away before turning to me. "You are the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only one I ever will love. You’re it for me. Why can’t you accept that?"