tagRomanceYou Never Know Ch. 03

You Never Know Ch. 03


I'm laughing at the comments about S. being an ass - hopefully he manages to redeem himself in the coming chapters. But maybe not. This chapter might be a bit controversial for some of you. I say you're entitled to your opinion, but just deal with it.

All characters in this story are over the age of 18.


Five minutes later, I took my seat in the second pew on the right. I had told S. to count to twenty before emerging, and he followed my instructions, appearing just after I had settled myself into my seat. He strode to the altar, a new shirt nipped from the closet poking out from underneath his jacket, and took his place next to his brother, who looked from S. to me with an uninterpretable expression. I crossed and recrossed my legs nervously until I got a glare from an elderly woman across the aisle.

"Sorry," I mouthed. I could still feel S.'s come slowly leaking out of me onto the inside of my dress. And then the music began to play.

Everyone stood and turned to watch the flower girl, then the bridesmaids, then finally the bride, accompanied by her father, slowly walk up the aisle. I stared at S.'s soon-to-be-wife, hating her and pitying her at the same time. If I was in her position, and found out my fiancé had sex with another woman just moments before he married her...I couldn't even imagine. I loathed the fact that I was the other woman. But at the same time, I thought as I glanced up at S....I sort of enjoyed it, too. My cheeks burned as she walked past and I chose to stare at the back of the person seated in front of me. The priest rambled through his spiel and I bowed my head and shut my eyes until I heard him ask S. if he took this woman to be his lawfully wedded wife. I looked up and our gazes connected for a split second, and then S. said, "I do."

Using my better judgment for once, I decided to skip the reception. I received a text from S. on my way home -- "Where are you?" I couldn't reply. Instead I texted my roommate, slowly typing out the letters -- "I just had sex with S." She responded within seconds -- "OMG what about the wedding??" "Still on," I answered. "He is married now. Skipped the reception and on my way home. Can't even deal with this." J. let me know that she would pick me up from the train station and I leaned my head back against the plastic seat, silent tears running down my cheeks.

* * *

About a month later, during which I received seven text messages from S., all some variation of "Please talk to me," I felt sharp pains in my stomach and nearly collapsed in the shower. I called in sick to work, took a taxi to the hospital, and the ER doctor informed me of what I already suspected -- I was about four weeks pregnant. I had meant to take the morning-after pill the day after the wedding, but amidst all the other turmoil I was feeling I had somehow forgotten. "Fuck," I whispered as the nurse came in to get some paperwork, and she patted my shoulder sympathetically.

"Is there anyone I can call for you, sweetie?" I shook my head. J. was out of town, my parents were hundreds of miles away, and I couldn't think of another person to contact. Except S. I dialed the numbers slowly, reconsidering after every push of the button, until the receiver started to ring. At the sound of his deep, soothing voice, I almost broke down.

"S.?" I whimpered. "I'm at the hospital. Can you come pick me up?" He immediately agreed and I sat on a bench outside until I saw his car pull alongside me. I stood slowly and leaned into the passenger-side window. "Can we talk before I get in?" I asked. "Because you might not want me anywhere near you after I tell you what I'm about to tell you." He looked confused but nodded, parked his car, and came back to the bench with me. After we sat in silence for several minutes, he turned to me, grabbed my hand, and asked me, point-blank, what was wrong. I swallowed hard. "S...." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant." A few seconds of silence passed and I raised my eyes to his face. He looked shell-shocked, and I couldn't blame him.

"B-but I thought you were on...birth control..." he said dazedly, and I shook my head.

"I meant to get the morning-after pill," I explained, "but other things got in the way and then...it was too late." He dropped my hand roughly and cursed.

"That's the kind of thing you make time for," he half-shouted, drawing the attention of a few patients making their way into the ER. "No matter what the hell else is going on. If there's a fucking earthquake that knocks down your house, you go do it." Tears sprang to my eyes again.

"I know," I wailed, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, and I can still get it...get it taken care of, if that's what you want." He just stared at me as I sniffled, then he reached into his pocket and handed me a tissue. I dabbed at my eyes and he waited until I was done blowing my nose before speaking again.

"No," he said, suddenly calm. "You're not getting an abortion." It was my turn to be shocked. "You're going to have this baby," he continued, "and I'm going to help you. And when it's time, I will be right there with you. You won't have to do a single thing alone." Fresh tears ran down my cheeks and he pulled another tissue out of his pocket.

"You're perfect," I sobbed, barely coherent. "But what about your wife? Don't you want to have a baby with her? And how will she not find out about us, about this?" I asked, gesturing to my stomach.

"I'll make sure of it," he assured me. "I work at odd hours. I'm away a lot. She'll never suspect a thing." He pecked me on the cheek and wiped the tears from my face. Deep down, I wanted him to say he was leaving her, but I knew I couldn't ask him to do that, not in good conscience. I still wanted to think I was a good person, although looking over my actions over the past couple of months, I couldn't say anyone else would see it that way. What am I going to tell people when I start to show?, I wondered.

"Come on," S. said, helping me up. "I'll drive you home."

The car ride back was silent, and I felt like I could sense anger behind his smooth, unemotional expression. But once we were inside my apartment and I mentioned I was going to take a shower, S. asked if he could join me. I stared at him in shock.

"I think we could both use some refreshment," he said, stroking the side of my face. "We don't have to do anything. I'll even go after you if you want." I reached up and wrapped my hand around his wrist.

"Come with me," I said, leading him into the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and while the water was heating up, I drew S.'s hands to my waist and kissed him softly, then more urgently as steam curled around the room. We undressed each other and he kept one hand on the small of my back as I stepped into the shower, like he was worried I'd slip. The caring gesture, and everything he was going to do for me, almost broke my heart, and I pressed my cheek to his chest and wrapped my arms around him. My back to the showerhead, I allowed the hot water to pour over my head, soaking my hair and drizzling down my spine. I lifted my face to the stream, relishing the feeling, like the water could wash away my sins. S. watched me, then lowered his head to meet my lips, and I felt a flame flare up inside me. My pulse quickened. With S.'s body wrapped around mine, I could feel his cock hardening against my stomach. I looked into those gorgeous green eyes and knew we were going to have sex again. But first, I wanted to do something else, something to show my gratitude.

I slowly turned us so that I was facing the front of the shower, the water now pouring down on S., then carefully lowered myself to my knees. S. looked down and stared at me, a wide grin spreading across his face. I held his gaze as I steadied my hands on his hips and tasted the head of his cock. A deep moan escaped his lips and I smiled. If there was one thing I was good at, it was giving head. He had no idea what he was in for. I licked from the base to the tip and back again, cupping his balls in one hand. When his hips started to buck involuntarily, I gave in and slipped him inside my mouth and past my gag reflex, again and again until my nose was pressed into his pubic hair. I inhaled the scent of musky sweat and some kind of bar soap.

S. was shuddering and gasping, one hand hanging onto the curtain rod, and I could feel his hardness twitching halfway down my throat. I gradually released him, going inch by inch until only the head was captured between my lips. My tongue grazed the tip and I felt his balls draw themselves up towards his body and his breath quicken. I took a deep breath and dove again, slipping his length back down my throat. S. let out a strangled cry and grabbed at my hair as his cock pulsed, every spasm sending a short spurt of come down into my stomach. I swallowed around him as he swelled, and I felt his hand ease back in the tangle of my wet hair. When he finally relaxed, I backed off until he emerged completely from my mouth with a pop, steadily softening. I licked my lips and S. helped me stand up. My knees were aching but it had been worth it.

"Oh, my God," he mumbled, smiling crookedly at me. I grinned back.

"Weren't expecting that, were you?" I asked coquettishly. He shook his head incredulously.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" I shrugged a shoulder, turning off the cooling water and smiling to myself. I twisted back around to find him slowly beginning to harden again already. I raised my eyebrows and felt warmth and wetness gathering between my legs.

"Quick recovery!" I exclaimed. S.'s green gaze bored into my eyes. He was breathing heavily.

"You do this to me," he sighed, wrapping a hand around the base of his growing cock and closing his eyes. My lips quirked up at the corners.

"Let's go to bed," I whispered.

We wandered naked to my room. It was cool and shadowy in the afternoon light. I took S.'s big, calloused hands in mine and pulled him with me onto the bed. His warm breath tickled the little hairs at the nape of my neck. I shivered as droplets of water dripped from S.'s damp hair onto my skin. "I'll heat you up," he said, pulling the covers over our bodies. The pillows and sheets were getting wet but I didn't care. S. wrapped his arms around me and rubbed his solid erection between my legs, making my breath catch in my throat. He looked beautiful in the stripes of sunlight peeking through the curtains.

"I still don't have a condom, but...I guess we don't really need one," he said, smirking. I shook my head, relieved that he was able to joke about it so soon. "Do you feel okay?" he asked me.

"I feel perfect," I murmured.

"You are perfect," he mumbled into my ear. S. nibbled gently on my earlobe and I sighed contentedly. He gazed into my eyes as he slid himself deep into my soaking wet center once again. We took it slow, enjoying ourselves, free of concern about time limits or intruders. S. seemed to last forever and I lost count of how many orgasms I had. His touch felt like electricity searing across my skin and gathering, crackling, at my core. After what seemed like hours of pleasure, he finally came in great surges, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in ecstasy. S. drifted down unhurriedly and remained inside me until he softened enough to slip out against my inner thigh. He swept my damp hair aside and suckled gently at the unblemished white skin of my neck. I just breathed and enjoyed, purely happy in the moment. Playing with his curls, I whispered, "I love you." We fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

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