Page 1 of Fiend
ONE
VINCENT
Glancingover at her out of the corner of my eye, I notice she’s trying to sneakanothercup of coffee.
After two fucking years, you’d think she would’ve learned to listen. But then again, she wouldn’t be my baby doll if she didn’t defy me at every fucking turn.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, baby doll?” I growl, slamming my mug down on the table with a hard clank before pushing my chair away from the table to stand. I spin to face her fully and cross my arms over my bare chest, cocking a brow and waiting for yet another one of her excuses.
“Um…” Essa takes a step away from the counter with her coffee mug in hand, full of the steaming liquid. Her fingers intertwine and twist together as she eyes me warily. After a few seconds of displaying her nervous habit, she catches herself, instead choosing to bring the mug near her face to hide the smug smirk she’s suddenly wearing.
“Really, baby?” I ask as I take a step toward her. Her smirk turns into a full-blown sarcastic-ass smile as she brings the edge of the mug to her lips and takes a long, languid sip. Her eyes flutter close as the taste of her most coveted addiction dances across her taste buds. I’ve come to love that look on her face—and she fucking knows it, too.
“You’re fucking pushing it, baby doll.” I click my tongue as I take another step. Her smile falls as her eyes narrow. She glares at me, always fucking testing me.
“You’ve already had four of those today, and the doctor said you need to slow down—it’s not good for you. It would be different if you would drink decaf, but let me remind you—" Another step. Her breathing kicks up, causing her heavy breasts to heave with every breath. Her full lips part, giving me the smallest glimpse of her tongue and that fucking bar that runs through it. “You are the one that refuses to fucking drink the decaf. So put. The cup. Down.”
But, of course, she doesn’t listen to me.
She’s never listened to me.
The only difference this time is that she knows I can’t do what I truly want when she defies me. And that round belly she’s sporting makes spanking her plump, perky ass kind of difficult… but not impossible.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Vin. But it’ssogood, and it’s all I ever want. It’s all the baby wants,” she whines and pouts her bottom lip at me like that will actually work.
I take the last step and cage her in with my arms on either side of her. I press as close as I can and lower my head so our eyes meet and our noses bump together.
“Don’t play that card with me. You know it won’t work, you little fucking brat. You need to do as you’re told, or I’m going to make you. One way or another.” My lips brush against hers as I speak. Hot puffs of her breath fan across my lips, making my already thickening cock rock fucking solid.
I glance down at her perfectly round belly pressing into my stomach; the coolness of her skin is seeping into me, even through her black tank top. I feel myself smiling—a real, true fucking smile.
I never knew happiness could feel like this.
It’s been two years since we both stood in my happy place, utterly broken, but hopeful. Together.
Now, here I stand. Staring at something we made, the two of us. Something I never thought we would have, thatIwould have.
I know I don’t deserve this happiness. Not after what I did to her, tous.I deserve to burn in the deepest, blackest pits of hell for all eternity. Actually, I deserve much worse.
But Essa won’t let me, the ever stubborn little bitch that she is.
She stands up straighter and grabs my hand which has gravitated towards her belly. She holds my much larger hand in between her two much smaller, cold ones, and squeezes. Her pale-green eyes lift from our clasped hands to my eyes, her own sparkling and shining with unshed tears.
She always fucking knows when my mind drags me to the worst places, and here she is, ready to pull me back to her without fail.
“Quit telling me what to do,” she finally says, shattering the peaceful silence that has descended over us. Her words confuse me for a moment, and my brows pinch together as I try to recall what we were even talking about a minute ago.
Oh. The fucking coffee.
“Essa Jaymes…” I growl, narrowing my eyes. I grasp one of her hands tighter in my own to warn her I’m not fucking around—not about this. If she thinks she can tell me all of this shit I have to do when the baby gets here, then she doesn’t get to do whatever the fuck she wants beforehand either.
“Don’t ‘Essa’ me, Vincent. You can’t tell me what I can and cannot drink. If I want to drink five cups of fucking coffee, then I fucking will.” She rips her hand from mine and crosses her arms over her chest, but all that serves to do is push her tits up further, giving me a great view with the black tank top she’s wearing.
As I stare at her exposed, scarred flesh, I can’t help but think about sinking my teeth into the curve of her breast. To watch as the blood wells then spills down the valley between them.
My cock throbs painfully, digging into the zipper of my jeans. I reach down and adjust myself so I’m more comfortable before I turn away from Essa, forcing my anger down my throat in a bitter, agonizing lump.
These last eight months have been some of the longest of my life.
