Page 6 of Dubious Secrets

Her nose crinkles a bit. “I still want to know.”

Reaching out, I wrap my hand around her ankle and squeeze it until her eyes meet mine. “I do want kids, but don’t factor that into your decision, okay?”

“Because you want kids with Mary instead?”

I frown, thrown off by the question and how I genuinely feel about it. “No, Stassie. If you keep my kid, I’ll love it just as much.”

Her eyes roam over my face looking for deceit, before she swallows and nods. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What?”

She bites down on her lip and glances back at the painting. I turn to look with her, having never fully paid attention to it before. It looks handmade, a mish mash of yellows in almost flower patterns with little red specks on some of the blobs. I assume her or Mary must have made it.

“All I’ve ever wanted to be is a mother. Everyone else around me had their whole life figured out, where they wanted to go to school, what they wanted to do when they grew up…and I just wanted a family. A good family.”

My throat aches with emotion, and I squeeze her ankle again as her face tilts back to me and she continues, “As I got older, my mom made sure to remind me any chance she got how bad of a mother I would be. I can’t cook for shit, I ruin more clothes than I wash properly, and I’m not very smart.”

“Stassie—”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I cared what she thought. She wasn’t a great mom herself. There were days where she forgot to feed Mary and me. That’s how she got sogood at it by the way. Out of survival for herself and me, Mary learned how to cook us food to keep us alive. She’s the one who taught me how to shower, how to put in my tampon. And then she grew up and all she could talk about was how much she wanted to be a nurse, and I felt like such a failure because even after all that, I still wanted to take care of someone the way she always took care of me.”

I desperately want to pull her into my arms and hug her tight, but I resist the urge. Reaching out, I tug on the end of her hair so she looks up at me.

“First of all, you’re not dumb, okay? If you believe anything, believe that. And I don’t think it’s dumb to want a family, it’s brave and selfless. Given how you two grew up, no one would have thought twice about you and Mary never having kids.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she wipes them with the bunched sleeve of her hoodie.

“Can you hold me?” she asks softly, sniffling.

I blow out a breath, knowing I should say no because I’ve already thought about her more than what’s appropriate, but a measly yes slips out. Moving my arm to rest on the back of the couch, I expect her to cuddle into my side but tense up when she crawls over my lap and straddles me, her head resting on my shoulder. After a few seconds, I gingerly wrap my arms around her, rubbing down her back and side.

It’s innocent, strictly platonic, except I know how tight her pussy feels. And I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel if we stripped down and she bounced on my cock while I held on to her breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut as I harden in my sweats and when she stiffens in my arms, I know she feels it.

When her fingers caress along my jaw, I finally open my eyes to find her already watching me. Her bright blue stare roams over my face and her fingers trace my mouth. A faint smile pulls on her lips.

“What?” I ask.

Stassie shakes her head. “It’s dumb.”

I squeeze her waist. “Tell me.”

Our gazes lock again and her tongue rolls over her bottom lip.

“You didn’t kiss me that night. I was just thinking how I’m probably carrying your baby and you never kissed me.”

My head spins, and I want nothing more than to kiss her. My hand tangles into her hair, pulling her face closer. “You’re right. That’s a little ridiculous.”

Her breath fans over my mouth. “We shouldn’t, though.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” I agree, but neither of us move. And I tilt my chin up, brushing my lips against hers. She inhales sharply and then leans down, kissing me fully. A moan echoes in her throat and I pull her harder against me, her pussy rubbing against my hard cock. Fuck me, it’s just supposed to be a simple kiss, and now I want more.

Stassie plasters herself against me more thoroughly, her arms wrapping around my neck as her breasts press against my chest. I want to peel her shirt off and hold them in my hands. I want to remove her pants and taste her between her legs. And then I think about how in a few months, or maybe in a few weeks, her flat stomach will start to round with my baby, and my cock gets uncomfortably hard, throbbing with the need to release. She rocks her hips with a long stroke of her heated center againstmy sensitive shaft, and I explode before I can stop it. I groan, my head thrown back against the couch and I thrust against her cunt, not caring how hard I am coming in my pants.

Stassie gasps, not saying anything else as I hold her down in my lap with my hands locked around her waist and guide her to rock a couple more times for the last few waves of my release.

“Did you just?—”

“Shh,” I say, breathless.

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