Page 74 of Sweetest Temptation
“Don’t get me wrong, your pussy has always been bomb, but your shit extra tight and wetter. You know what they say? Pregnant pussy is the best pussy, baby, and right now… your shit choking the shit out my dick.” He smirked.
“Get off me! You don’t know what to say out of your mouth!” I pushed at his chest and hopped up off his lap.
Samir looked at me with concern and confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong, love?”
That question cracked something open in me. All the fear, the years of disappointment, the doctor visits, the endless negative tests—it all came rushing back like a bad accident. My throat tightened, and before I could stop it, the words tumbled out.
“I can’t get pregnant, Samir!” I said, voice trembling but sharp enough to cut the air between us.
“What are you talking about?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I knew one day I’d have to have this conversation with Samir, but I was scared that I’d run him off or that he would look at me like I wasbroken. I knew he wanted kids, but I just wasn’t sure I would ever be able to give him that.
“Zanova,” he said gently, pulling me back on his lap. “Talk to me, baby.”
“Samir, I…” My voice cracked. “My doctor said that I can, it just may take some time. But I don’t think I can. Jerome and I tried foryears, and it just never happened. Maybe I just can’t. I would understand if you don’t want to take things further.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy enough to make my throat burn. I couldn’t even look at him. I was too afraid of what I’d see. Then, without a word, I felt his hand on my chin, making me meet his gaze. His thumb brushed against my cheek, catching the tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Don’t ever say no shit like that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You hear me? Whether you can give me a baby or not, I still want you. Your inability to have a baby doesn’t change shit. But I do think you need to take a test because I’m almost positive that you are carrying my baby.” He smirked, placing his hands on my belly.
“Samir, don’t say that if you don’t really mean it. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“Nah, I’m not just saying shit to appease you. And say what you want, love, but I knocked that ass up. You think I don’t pay attention? I notice everything about you. The way your body reacts to me, how tired you've been lookin’ lately, how that pussy has been tasting sweeter lately. You might not want to believe it, but I knocked that ass up.” He chuckled, pleased with himself.
I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but my throat felt tight. Because deep down, there was a tiny part of me that prayed he was telling the truth. And now that I thought about it, when my period came this month, I only spotted for a few days. I chalked it up to stress with dealing with the new shop and the demands of my new tart.
“Don’t stress yourself, baby. We can get a test done and put both of us at ease. Whatever the outcome, we will deal with it. But I bet I’m right.”
“I’m only going through with it to prove you wrong.”
“Whatever you say.”
I didn’t know if I wanted him to be wrong or right.
Without waiting for me to respond, Samir flattened me down on the bed, climbing between my legs. He placed soft kisses on my chin and down my neck until he reached my breasts. He gently took my right nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue around my areola. I moaned out, enjoying how he was making me feel.
I pulled him to me and pushed my tongue into his mouth. I wasn’t for the foreplay right now. I missed Samir so much. The time we spent away from each other was torture, and right now, I needed to feel him inside of me. The time apart had felt like punishment, and in this moment, all I wanted was for him to take that ache away.
The next morning, I called my gynecologist’s office and, by some miracle, managed to get an appointment with my provider for the same day. My hands were shaking as Samir drove with music on low. My mind was racing; I didn’t know if it was nerves or hope trying to crawl its way up my throat.
By the time Samir and I sat in the waiting area, my heart felt like it was doing laps in my chest. Every swollen belly that passed by reminded me of what I was afraid to hope for. Samir sat next to me, legs spread, our hands intertwined, looking calmas ever. I could tell he was tense too. His thumb kept brushing over my hand, back and forth in slow strokes, like he was trying to keep me grounded.
It didn’t take long before we were called to the back by the nurse and shown to an exam room. I was given a gown to change into after she took all my vitals and asked me a series of questions. She’d taken a urine sample, too, and the whole routine reminded me of the many years visiting with Jerome. I knew the procedure all too well from trying to get pregnant with that man. I hated that pregnancy automictically made me think about Jerome. He didn’t deserve my thoughts, just like Samir didn’t deserve to have his hopes up from my lack of communicating my fertility issues.
After Samir helped me change out of my clothes, I rested on the small examination table, still a ball of nerves.
“If you are so sure that the test is going to come back negative, why are you looking so nervous?”
“It’s just… I've been in this situation too many times to count, only to be told?—”
“Stop the negative thoughts. You’re not doing this alone, aight?”
“Yes,” I whispered, trying to convince myself.
There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Peters walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. She smiled, instantly making me feel a little lighter.
“Zanova! It’s been a while,” she greeted, her voice gentle but familiar. Then her gaze shifted to Samir, her expression politely curious. “And you are?”
