Rocked Up

He has no idea, no idea…

The same urgency that’s running through him is running through me. I drop onto one elbow, and with my other hand reach for my clit, the pressure building to unbearable heights as he fucks that sweet spot inside me. He grabs the back of my hair until it’s gathered in his hand and pushes forward until my cheek is pressed into the carpet and he’s holding me down, grunting hard with each thrust.

I’m so wet, slick and ready for him, it doesn’t take long for him to push me to the edge. I feel just as I do when I’m on stage, that moment when the roar of the crowd raises you higher and higher and you swear that you’ll never come down.

But you do.

And in this case, right now, it’s a beautiful come down.

Brad is merciless, groaning hard with each thrust, this rough, animalistic noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming.

I don’t even have time to tell him I’m coming. It just happens, quick and swift, and I’m swept away, tumbling and turning, like I’m crowd-surfing above millions of adoring hands. My body quakes and shudders from head to toe as I pulse around him. I am light and heavy and my heart has wings. I never want to feel anything but this, never want anyone else but him.

“Lael,” he groans out my name and then I feel him as he comes, the pressure in my hair, the slamming of his hips into my ass. The sounds coming out of his mouth are blistering and raw and I’d give anything to watch his face as he empties into me.

Then his thrusts slow down, his hand in my hair slowly letting go, releasing the pressure from my head. He’s breathing hard, his toned body hovering over me. Drops of sweat fall onto my back, making me shudder.

“First time on a tour bus,” he says to me, pulling out. I immediately feel bereft without him.

“Oh shit,” he says.

“What?” I say, slowly flipping around so I’m on my back and staring up at him. “Is it my knees?” I ask, noting how red and raw they are from where the carpet rubbed me.

“No, I forgot to use a condom,” he says. “Sorry, I was so carried away, I just had to have you. I didn’t even think.”

I clear my throat. Yeah, about that, I think.

But I don’t say it.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” His brow is creased with worry which feels like a fist to my gut.

“I’m sure,” I tell him.

“We have been pretty good about it,” he says.

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I quickly get to my feet and pull up my underwear, smoothing my dress back down. “We should probably get out of here. Who knows if people saw us come in here. We know people talk.”

“Though to be fair, we’ve been pretty good at the sneaking thing.” He pulls me toward me and grins at me before placing a sweet kiss on my lips. “It’s almost fun to pull one over your father and not get caught.”

I manage a stiff smile.

What happens when the thrill runs out?

We can’t do this forever?

What happens if…

“Hey are you okay?” he asks me, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.

Maybe?

Maybe not.

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m fucking starving.”

“That’s my girl.”

We walk off the bus and back to the stadium.

***

I knew.

I fucking knew it.

I’m staring down at a pregnancy test in my hand, the third pregnancy test in a row I’ve used. I’m so fucking tired of peeing and seeing the same result.

Positive.

Positive!

Holy fucking fuck.

I’m pregnant.

Pregnant with none other than Brad Snyder’s baby.

This can’t be happening. It just can’t be.

But it can, I tell myself, tossing the stick into the trash with the rest of them. And you know it.

It’s true. Normally I wouldn’t think much about getting pregnant while on the pill, but it must have been that first time we did it in the alley. There was no condom and at that point I wasn’t as regular with taking my pills as usual. Being on the road every single day really messed that up for a bit, even when I had an alarm set to remind me when to take them.

Then there’s the fact that for the last while I haven’t been feeling like myself. Then I missed my period.

It happened a few days before Brad and I had sex on the tour bus. I was kind of hoping that sex would bring it on, as much of an oxymoron as that seems.

I was in denial. I didn’t want to face facts.

Brad knew something was up and I played that show in Detroit feeling less enthused and more distant than normal. But I didn’t want to tell him. Not until I knew.

Well, now I know.

It’s as clear as day.

Those lines on all those tests, all different brands, they don’t lie. Not to mention feeling sick and missing period. Everything is swirling together to create a not-so-perfect storm.

Shit.

What the hell do I do?

I’m only twenty-one and pregnant by the man I’m not supposed to be with.

If I have this baby, my father will disown me.

I might just ruin my entire relationship with him, let alone my life.

And Brad, Brad didn’t sign up for this. We’re together now but we’re sneaking around. Having a baby would tie him to me forever and that might not be something that he wants.

We haven’t even discussed what we are to each other.

We haven’t even exchanged I love yous.

I mean, I’ve barely had time to figure out how I feel about him.

Okay, that’s a complete lie.

The truth is, I do love him.

I’m in love with him.

And I always have been.

Only this time, it’s for real.

It’s not a fantasy, it’s far from it.

It’s raw and it’s messy and it’s beautiful.

And it’s mine.

No matter how Brad feels about me, he can’t take away the fact that what I feel for him is true. He can’t stop me from loving him.

Every single moment of this tour for the last couple of months, I’ve been falling deeper and deeper, head over bass, until I’m rocked by it, by my very love for him.

In some ways, this baby is a product of that love and that feeling alone is probably why I’m not even contemplating an abortion. I’m absolutely respect a woman’s right to choose, but getting rid of this baby doesn’t seem like an option. It represents my love for Brad. It represents how wonderful he is with me.

And, to be honest, this is something I’ve always wanted. A family of my own, a product of love. I’ve always had dreams of being a mom, I just figured it would happen the normal way. You know. Fall in love…with someone who isn’t a famous rock star and doesn’t have a complicated relationship with your father and isn’t completely forbidden. Followed by a proposal, marriage, and then kids.

Not like this. I could have never predicted this.

You’re getting ahead of yourself, I remind myself, leaning against the hotel bathroom sink and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not glowing yet.