“We’ll fly back and get it. We need to fly out tomorrow for the funeral.”
There were no vacant rooms. Drew and I had to sleep on the pull out couch at my mom’s place. I couldn’t take it. Lying in his arms, fully clothed was killing me. I wanted him naked on top of my nakedness. I didn’t dare though. I knew how thin the walls were. I had lain in bed many mornings, listening to my mom tell Jason how happy she was that I was there.
“I didn’t think you were going to stay here for six months,” Drew quietly said as his fingers tormented me.
Not really. He was only tracing my arm with his fingers, but still. I wanted him tracing other parts of my body.
“I guess I was just trying to run away. Escape,” I replied.
“How’s that working out for you?”
“It was actually working out pretty damned good until you showed up.”
“And Dawson?”
“I haven’t talked to him either. We had a fight before I left. You both decided to give me my space at the same time.”
“You had a fight? Why?”
“What do you think,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Me?”
“Yup.”
“We talked about you the night that he gave me a lift. I can see how you like him. He seems to be a good guy.”
I snorted at him saying like. I didn’t like Dawson. I loved him. Drew knew that. He just wasn’t able to say it out loud.
Drew and I talked for a long time. I told him all about my mom, and everything that she had confessed to me. He had already known a lot of it, like the pictures that she was sent periodically.
Mother fucker. Fucking, lying son of a bitch.
I looked straight at my mom when I finally quit heaving enough to rejoin the rest of them for breakfast the following morning. She knew. She knew what I knew. The stupid little stick that I had pissed on, lied. I was pregnant.
I knew I was. She knew it too and smiled a warm, motherly smile.
“You okay?” Drew asked as I sat beside of him, sipping my coffee.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. I was far from okay. My stomach felt like it was going to regurgitate its self, and I was fucking pregnant. I was pregnant with a baby with two dads. No. I wasn’t okay.
“When will you be back?” my mom asked. “We had a cancellation for next week. I’ll keep that room open if you are going to be back in a few days,” she offered.
I looked at Drew for the answer.
“We can come back in a few days. I hired a new assistant that is doing awesome. I can get away.”
That wasn’t my plan.
***
Drew and I weren’t in the air twenty minutes
before we were fighting.
“You don’t have to fly back with me. I need to fly back, pick up my car and head home,” I told him.
“Head home? So home is in Maine?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Drew. What did you think I was going to do?”
“You know what, Morgan? I have no fucking idea what you are going to do and I’m a little sick of trying to figure it out.”
“Fuck you,” I yelled. I was glad that we were on a private jet. I didn’t say it quietly.
He turned on me, grabbing both of my arms, forcefully. “Is that what you need, Morgan? Do you need for me to fuck you?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Of course my * was screaming and doing back flips, stupid fucking mechanism, always taking over my brain.
“Yes,” I rasped.
What the fuck? I didn’t mean to say that.
Drew slid my sundress up and kissed me hard. I lost myself in a matter of seconds.
“Do you know what I really want to do to you, Morgan?” he asked, angrily taking my mouth, and not giving me time to respond, not that I had enough wits about me at that time to respond anyway.
“I would love to bend you over my knee and beat some sense into your naked ass.”
Okay...
He didn’t do that. He tossed me to the white leather seat, raising my skirt as his mouth did crazy things to my lips and neck.
“Get out!” Drew yelled, turning to the guy that had just walked into Drew being on top of me with my dress around my waist. I didn’t look to see, but I could tell the guy got the hell out of there.
He undid his belt and pulled my panties to the side, forcefully entered me and fucked the hell out of me on the plush white leather seat. I lasted all of about three minutes before I was clawing his back and trying my best not to scream. I wanted to scream. I needed to scream. I hadn’t had an orgasm in over a month, well, besides the couple that I gave myself in the shower.
Drew thrashed in and out of me, and I can’t even begin to describe the look on his face. It was mixture of the look right before he used to hit me, love, obsession and lust, all mixed together.
“Damnit, Drew,” I scolded when he grabbed the fabric between my legs and tore it out of his way.
He ignored me with a shit eating grin. I was just getting ready to come again when he had to go and ruin it.