Page 21 of Vegas Baby

I bite into my bottom lip. “Don’t distract me out of actually feeding you,” I tease back. “Or we may never leave this room again.”

Kira’s eyes go soft, and she puts a hand on my cheek. “If I get to stay with you, I’m okay with that.”

I close my eyes against the swell of emotion her words bring in me. And when I open them, I know I’m staring at my future.

“As long as you’ll have me,” I promise.

15

KIRA

Five weeks later…

“Goddamn, Kira, if you don’t stop, I won’t get to fuck your beautiful pussy,” Sebastian groans.

I pop my mouth off his delicious, wet cock. “Well, that would be a travesty,” I tease. I press him back and climb on top of him, sliding down on his length to pleased groans from us both. And then I start to ride him.

His hands grab my hips, and he slams up as I slam down, the friction driving me wild. I land and twist in a circle, his dick rubbing all my spots, making my insides tighten. And the tighter I am, the harder he fucks. So I swirl again, tightening and climbing. He slams harder, over and again, until we’re both crying out, my nails digging into his chest, his teeth clamping down on my shoulder as we come and come and come.

We sink onto the bed in a pile of sated limbs and barely quelled lust, and a sad thought settles over me.

“Once I’m back in the show, we won’t be able to do this nearly as often,” I lament.

With a smile, he kisses my lips sweetly. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. “Speaking of which …” He lifts his head to get a look at the clock. “We need to leave for your appointment soon.”

I begrudgingly follow him out of bed, clean up, and get dressed.

As we head to the hospital, I am unworried about the results. I know my neck is fine. And now, finally, so is my life. I had no idea I could feel this free, this happy.

We check in and wait until a middle-aged nurse calls me back.

“See you soon,” I tell Sebastian, squeezing his hand. He smiles at me, and I grin back.

The nurse gives me a motherly smile as I catch up and follow her through the labyrinthian halls. We end up in a room filled with intimidating looking machines and she gestures for me to sit in a chair against the wall.

She confirms my name and date of birth, then gestures to a large machine behind her. “We’re going to be using the CT to take pictures of your neck today. But before we get started, do you have any allergies?”

“Not that I know of,” I reply with a shrug.

“All right. And is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks.

I open my mouth to say “no” until I realize … I haven’t had my period. Not since before my accident. “I … do not think so, but I haven’t had a period for two months,” I admit. “Though they’ve never been very regular.”

“Hm,” she murmurs, making a note. “Do you use birth control?”

I nod. “Yes. I have the injection. Though it has been a while since my last one.”

“Well, you did experience trauma, and the stress on your body could have affected your cycle. But why don’t we do a test just to make sure?”

Nerves bunch in my tummy. “Is that really necessary? Is there not another machine we can use instead?”

“Well, we can do an MRI, but the doctor specifically requested a CT, so unless you’re pregnant or allergic to iodine, I’d have to get permission. Let’s just check, shall we?” She opens the cupboard and pulls out a small, cylindrical plastic cup. “Restroom is just there —” she gestures to my left “— and there are instructions with the supplies on the shelf.” She offers the cup to me with a smile.

Hesitantly, I take it. I walk numbly to the bathroom. I mechanically get the sample and bring it back. I watch her dip a strip into it. Then I watch her face light up not long after.

“Well, looks like we’d better do an MRI after all,” she replies, holding the strip up for me to see. As if it made any sense to me. “You’re pregnant.”

16

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