Page 25 of The Right Woman

She sniffs and nods, her face still buried in my neck.

“Baby, you want daddy’s cum?”

A mumbled sound like an affirmation vibrates my moistened skin, sending sparks down my spine. I’m so fucking close. She pulls back enough to press her lips over my ear and whispers, “Adon, I’m not on birth control.”

That’s it. My eyes roll into the back of my head at her words, and I release everything inside her. In that moment, I envision her round with my child, in my house, with her hairy cat, and all these stupid plants, while I rub her belly and suck on her engorged tits. “Oh, goddamn it! Fuck!”

My cock throbs, releasing so much cum it bursts from our connection, creating a puddle all over my lap. But as soon as my high wears off, fear overtakes me. I barely know this girl.

I move out from under her as she flops over onto her back, her eyes boring into my face. I can’t even look at her. My jaw works overtime as I gnaw on my inner cheeks.

“Are youmad?”

Once I release her wrists, I kneel on the mattress, which gives its final groan and snaps under our weight. We slide down to the end, and I catch her in my arms, then drop her body on a nearby armchair.

“Adon. Are youupset?” she asks accusingly. Like she had nothing to do with any of this.

I find my jeans and boxer briefs, then pull them on. Reaching for a blanket, she covers herself, probably feeling more exposed now that I can’t even form a sentence. This is a delicate matter; I have to pick my words carefully. “Piper, that’s something you should have told me before.”

“You never fuckingasked.”

Snapping my fingers, everything flies from my mouth with angry spit. “You went to afucking sex clubwithout any birth control.”

“I always use condoms…” Her expression turns suddenly shy, one of the few times I’ve seen her timid. This woman tries everything to pretend she’s a force of power, but she’s so naive, it makes me worry for her. When she mumbles, I almost don’t hear her. “And I haven’t been with a man in years.”

Giving her my back, I rub the sides of my head and try to think. “Do you need the after pill? Whatever it’s called. That after thing pill?”

“Plan B? I mean, I can take it, but I won’t. I’m not ovulating. Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay child support right now.”

That makes rage rise within me until I lunge at her. She scrambles back in her chair, and I press my face close to hers so she doesn’t misunderstand. “There’sno fucking wayI would not take care of my kids. So if you end up pregnant, so be it. But don’t think for one second, I wouldn’t raise them, too.”

I slap a hand over my face and rub it as I take a step back, giving us some space. “I-I’ll be sure to use a condom.” Part of me wonders if I never questioned it because I want more children. With Piper? That’s a horrendous possibility.

She stands up and shoves me out of her way, but her little arms can barely do any damage. Heading toward the bathroom, she points to her front door. “Thanks for the ride. You can see yourself out.”

I open my mouth, but she slams the door shut behind her, and I gape at the wood wall she just between us. “Are youserious?”

With a heaving sigh, I think about fixing her bed before I go and demanding that I stay over. But after her tantrum, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Any of it.

What the fuck am I doing? I’m a thirty-six-year-old man trying to impregnate a twenty-one-year-old with pink hair and an attitude problem. And a cat that won’t fucking stop rubbing on my legs.

Scooting around the little guy, I grab my shirt and head out the door, letting it slam just as loud as the spitfire behind it did.

By the time I’m home and taking a hot shower, I’ve calmed to the point that I can think more rationally. If Piper’s pregnant, I’ll be absolutely fine with that. Maybe we could even make things more official, if she’d let me. Maybe she’d call me old and old-fashioned, but I don’t care, as long as she’d be taken care of, as well as the baby.

But the problem is, I have a feeling she wouldn’t accept my help. She pushes me away so fast, my head spins. As soon as that innocence rears its head, allowing her to give in, she replaces it with an infuriating shield of daggers. Do I keep trying to break those barriers down? Is she worth it?

I’m not sure.

The way she felt tonight as she cried in my arms, a release of some sort of emotion after she climaxed, was a high I want again. I don’t know if she’d let me see that side of her again, though. Regardless, I can’t stop thinking about her.

And even on Monday, she’s all that consumes my thoughts. I wonder if her bed is still broken, even going so far as to look up options to send her a new sofa bed to replace the one I broke. Is that too far? Am I a gross, old sugar daddy now?

I click on the “Add to Cart” button and do it anyway. I’d rather be weird than have her sleeping on a broken bed. Flipping the phone over and over in my hand, I think about texting or calling to make sure she’s okay. To see if she did go get those pills. Perhaps check and see if her walls have a crack big enough for me to slip through.

Scanning the monitor, I add a cat toy and purchase the order, shipping it straight to her place. If she gets mad, she can reject them. Like she’s rejected me.

She knows how I feel, that I asked her to be open for me and only me. I’ve been the one hunting her down in an alley, the library, on Halloween… I think I’m done reaching out for her to pull away.

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