A Honeymoon For Singles

As the bright rainbow-colored hammock sways in the ocean-scented breeze, I gently swing from side to side. I glance down at the pages of my Tessa Bailey summer read, the wide-brimmed straw beach hat blocks the glaring rays of the sunset from my eyes, and I take shallow, deep breaths trying to calm the rapid thrumming of my heart against my chest. The words in the romantic suspense novel look like black fire ants running across the page because I can't seem to concentrate. I huff out an agitated breath. I thought the solution to one of the worst experiences of my life would be to disconnect from society, meaning no cellphones, no social media, no work emails—no electronic devices. I thought if I could escape from the reality of my world, I could come back to the real world and feel untouchable by one of the most humiliating days of my life, my almost wedding day.

I try to push the terrible thoughts from my mind by tuning into the white noise of the beach ambiance. I begin grounding myself by listening to the beach waves roar toward the shore. I turn my face to the sky, hyper-focusing on the last rays of the sun heating my skin and soaking into me like being wrapped in a warm wool blanket on one of the coldest days of the year. I give the air a big sniff focusing on the smells of sunscreen, the fresh air of the outdoors, and the crisp scent of the ocean water. But as soon as I get to a place of serenity, I see his stunned face, those lying gray eyes, and remember the feeling of being emotionally gutted and left hollow. All my childhood insecurities race through my mind. His actions were the catalyst that transported me back to the day I was excited to be leaving for my first year at M.I.T.

I still remember the day as if it were happening in real time. I was so excited, and everyone in our family stood around Mami's small rickety second-hand kitchen table with proud looks on their faces. I remember all the bodies crammed into that small kitchen made me feel like I would die from heat stroke. But everyone sending me well wishes before my Mami took me to the airport was worth the discomfort. Yet, what stood out to me the most that day wasn't the proud words of the matriarch of our family but the shockingly venomous words of my favorite cousin that helped raise me.

The callous look she gave me when she grabbed my wrist in a bone-crushing grip and whispered maliciously in my ear, "No matter how smart or gorgeous you are, you will always be seen as Central Falls dog shit that all the rich and wealthy, people that actually matter, will pay someone to wipe off the bottom of their shoes." I looked at her, stunned, as Mami dragged me through the door so I wouldn't miss my flight. My cousin's cold malicious smirk cuts through my mind, but it's not from the day I left Central Falls. It was during one of the most recent worst days of my life. I open my eyes, shivering like I've been doused with ice-cold water, and my teeth chatter in humid tropical weather. I slide off the hammock, grabbing my book, sunglasses, and water bottle. My feet sink in the warm sand and squish between my toes as I make my way back to the all-inclusive luxury suite of the Bali resort that has become my four-week hideaway.

I lean against the cool glass door of my beautiful honeymoon suite. On the honeymoon, I had to go on alone because this was the last thing that lying piece of shit felt like he could do for me. Or at least keep me out of the public's eye because one of the biggest weddings of the year had to be canceled. I still wished that Imani, my best friend, had been able to accompany me on this much-needed getaway, but she hadn't worked herself like a dog like I had to ensure there'd be no distractions on this trip, my honeymoon. I couldn't even call Imani because I had stupidly chucked my phone in the garbage bin at the airport to keep myself from looking at social media and ignoring my almost husband's phone calls and text messages. I fight down the bile that rises in my throat and shake my head from the memories that try to invade my psyche. However, there's no escaping the truth in my older cousin's words.

No matter how smart or pretty I am, to those that matter to the world. I'm Central Falls dog shit.

And my perfect pedigree fiancé's actions proved that I wasn't worthy of his love or his posh lifestyle.

I gently hit my head a few times against the cool solid glass of the balcony doors, feeling more chilly from the breeze now that the sun had officially set. It had been a fucking week, and I needed to stop having a pity party. I had four more weeks to pull myself together and to show up in my unwavering bubbly persona, the chosen mask I always wore for the world. I needed a long shower in this gorgeous bathroom with the steam jets and the delicious-smelling complimentary shower gel. I toss my stuff down in the chair by the bed, and I chuck my tiny white lightweight swimsuit coverup sundress on the floor. I peel the bikini top and bottoms from my skin, letting it pool in the middle of the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Did I not completely shut the shower off earlier today? Well, shit, I mean, there were lots of buttons and controls I had to deal with this afternoon when I showered. I toss open the door to the bathroom. It feels shockingly humid and damp, like someone's only recently used the shower. The mirror slowly clears from the fog that had once covered it from the dewy shower steam. My eyes connect in the mirror with the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes set in the gorgeous face of a man with chiseled abs and a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips. The towel sits so low on his hips that I can see damp, dark blonde curls trailing downward on his lower stomach and disappearing into the towel.

I had never seen a man so sexy in my life. It is surreal. My mouth feels dry, and I probably don't look flattering with my jaw hanging open like a dead fish. I feel my cheeks burn with heat from embarrassment. Damn it, Aury! Did I walk into the suite beside mine while being lost in my own pity party?

I open my mouth to let out a scream, but nothing comes out as we both stand as still as statues and stare at each other. His eyes darken to a stormy blue, filling with lust as his eyes peruse my body. I'm not unused to the male gaze. At a size sixteen, I had bountiful curves that made many men turn their heads for a second glance, but I followed his gaze, which caused me to let out a shrill scream but not from fear but from humiliation.

Oh. My. Gosh!

I am fucking naked! Remembering that I had stripped on my way to the bathroom. Could I catch a fucking break? Not only is my dumbass in the wrong room, but I'm naked in the wrong fucking room. I turn and begin running to scoop up my clothes. I forget about trying to pull that string bikini back on and chuck my swimsuit coverup dress over my head. My heart fiercely beats as I feel my skin tighten from embarrassment. I feel hot and prickly all over because if this man is my neighbor, God, how can I show my face around the resort again?

I hear his footsteps behind me as I run out to the balcony but stop when I see my bikini from yesterday hanging on the edge of the balcony's railing. What. The. Entire. Fuck?

I turn to face the gorgeous man, defensively questioning, "Why the fuck are you in my room?" His head rears back as if I've slapped him.

"I think you're mistaken, sweet cheeks," he coolly responds, with a devilish smirk as he leisurely peruses my body, like he's committing my naked frame to memory for later spank bank material.

I roll my eyes.

"Suite 124 is mine. It's the honeymoon suite," I argue, folding my arms beneath my breasts. My nipples are hard as rocks under the thin cotton fabric of the coverup. This man's half-naked body has mine wanting a taste so bad that my pussy lips are becoming slicker and slicker with arousal the longer I stand in his presence.

"No, gorgeous! Suite 124 is mine. My mom booked me into this hotel, always asks for the biggest and best suite because your future mother-in-law is a complete snob, which you'll soon find out. Here's my room access card," he says, tossing it onto the patio table on the spacious balcony. I peer down and see in gold letters 124 on his card, which matches that of my own that I throw down on the table right next to his. We stared down at the two cards, dumbfounded and confused.

I feel my throat start to clamp up when I look up at his gorgeous face, made even more beautiful by the confused furrowing of his brows. He's really cute. The thought of a husband and a mother-in-law makes me dizzy, and my stomach churns. This has to be a cruel joke. Maybe he's a relative of the man that stomped on my heart. I swallow hard, feeling as if glass is trapped in my throat.

"My m-m-mother-in-law," I manage to squeak out, entirely at a loss over this entire situation.

A beautiful broad smile crosses his face before he answers, "Yes, because after seeing an ass that fucking sexy, I have to wife you now." I roll my eyes as his giant frame shakes with laughter. I feel like I'm transported back to my high school homeroom.

"Will you call the front desk and see how this could of happen," I bellow, snatching my card from the table and parking my ass in one of the comfortable patio chairs surrounding the table. He takes in the serious expression on my face, slowly nods, and turns back into my or our room. I let out an exhausted breath.

I watched him grab some clothes from a black suitcase I didn't realize had appeared out of thin air in the corner of the room. He disappears into the bathroom and doesn't come out for about thirty minutes, leaving me on the edge of my seat. He throws open the bathroom door, causing me to sit ramrod straight on the edge of the chair. Gone is the flirty playboy expression on his face from earlier; in its place is a murderous glare as he makes his way back to me on the patio.

"Well," I asked him, exasperated.

"They're going to send us some free shit because they made a mistake and booked the room for both of us because there was a glitch in the system where I guess your cancellation was reversed at the same time my booking was approved for this room. The next nicest room becomes available at the end of this week. The manager says that one of us can have an extended stay in a less grand room of the resort or find accommodations somewhere else on Bali's island," He explains, running his hand through his beautiful thick sandy blond hair strands, making it stand up in tufts around his head like he just got fucked.

I wish it were me rubbing my hands through his hair as he sucked on my tight nipples that were straining against my cotton coverup. Where the fuck did that thought come from? I gasp in shock, feeling electricity course through my veins when he rubs my arm in comfort. He thinks I've gasped because of our strange situation, not because of my wayward thoughts.

"Hey, babe. I have an idea. Why don't you take a nice relaxing shower? I'll make myself scarce so you won't feel uncomfortable, sweet cheeks. Then, we can have dinner together and try to come up with how to deal with this crazy fucking issue, gorgeous," I nod absentmindedly, my thoughts scrambled because of his closeness and delectable scent filling my nostrils. At that moment, my horny-fueled mind would have followed him to the gates of hell if it meant another second in his presence.

I run my slender index finger around the sugar rim of my Ma Le Blue signature resort cocktail, feeling the light tropical breeze blow through my Senegalese twists as I watch the palm trees sway in the distance. I'm trying to look anywhere but the gorgeous man seated across from me at this candlelit dinner on the beach. However, I'm running out of places to avert my gaze because our dinner is quite intimate, feeling as if we're the only pair having dinner on the beach for miles around us.

"Aury," he calls my name, sending a tingle of sexual heat to the base of my spine. His sexy baritone voice causes my clitoris to pulsate, making me rub my thighs together as I try to think of unsexy memories like the birthing scene from Knocked Up. I had nightmares about childbirth for weeks. I shiver and meet his beautiful cornflower blue gaze, wanting to dry heave.

"Cliff," I smile back, feeling awkward as heat from humiliation creeps up my neck to my face from the realization that this beautiful man saw me in my birthday suit before we ever knew one another's names. He takes a sip of his dark rum, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles at me. I thought the conversation between us during this dinner would be awkward and forced, like one of the business dinners I have to attend to help secure funding for my current job. Yet, Cliff is surprisingly great company, which has given my mind a reprieve from my life's latest scandal. I dig into the sweet vanilla bean custard and peach dessert the waiter brought to the table. I make a conscious choice to focus on the cold sweetness of the custard mixed with the tangy floral taste of the peaches, not allowing those lying gray eyes to enter my psyche, diluting this pleasurable moment for me with the heartwrenching pain of betrayal. I open my eyes to witness Cliff's smoldering gaze on my full pout, laser focus on my tongue, licking any remnants of the dessert off my lips.

"I’ve been thinking about our room situation, and I will pay you to let me have it,” Cliff negotiates, wiggling his brows at me, causing a derisive snort to escape my lips. Of course, there is no escaping these overly attractive elitist trust fund babies, not even during my tropical hideaway.

“There’s not enough money in the world that you can offer me that will have me giving up that amazing suite,” I declare teasingly. As the words fall from my mouth, I immediately know it’s a lie. A slight tinge of guilt feels my body, but I ignore it. Even though Cliff isn’t the rich prick that wronged me, I’m tired of these wealthy, playboy pretty boys always getting their way. I had something that this one wanted, and unless the owner of the resort himself and the Bali police came to toss me out, there was no way in hell I’d let him willingly have the luxurious honeymoon suite. Those beautiful blue eyes narrow into slits on my face. Cliff sits up straighter like he’s not a stranger to tough negotiations and only plays to win in all dealings of his life. I hide my smile behind my fruity cocktail because, like many, he’s fooled by my pretty face and curvaceous body, unable to see the brains behind my revered beauty.

“I’m not above a guilt trip,” Cliff jokes, relaxing back into his chair. I quirk an eyebrow waiting for him to continue, hoping that someone else had a sadder and more pathetic excuse for an escape to Bali than mine. I desperately needed to know that I was not the only one on this island, hiding out and trying to mend a shattered ego and a bleeding heart.

“I’m listening,” I say, leaning closer to the table to give Cliff my undivided attention. He clears his throat, and for the first time tonight, he doesn’t meet my eyes. It’s almost as if what he’s about to tell me is one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, which causes my pulse to quicken and my heartbeat to roar to life in my ears.

“My parents forced me to come on this vacation because I’ve been working myself to the bone at our family’s company. Actually, on one typical late night working at the office, I found myself on the floor, unable to speak or feel my arms and legs. At that moment, I knew I was going to die. My entire life flashed before my eyes. I even laid in a puddle of my own piss, barely able to call 9-1-1 for help. It turns out I had a minor stroke from all the stress I’d experienced, so my mom booked me this trip. My father threatened me that if I didn’t take a vacation, he’d write me out of his will and find a way to seize my inheritance,” Cliff confides, giving a little pathetic laugh and causing me to reach for his hand to offer what little comfort I could provide. His thumb strokes the top of my hand as he continues, “I think the scariest part is realizing we're human and not invincible and that we all have an expiration date. To know that life isn’t worth living if the only thing you have to show for it is the hours you put into a company that won’t necessarily mourn you when you’re gone. You think I would’ve taken it as a warning that my workaholic tendencies were ruining my life when my long-term girlfriend broke things off with me because I spent more time at my job than at home with her.”

I sit there speechless. I’m in awe of Cliff’s strength and the level of trust he put in my hands after I’ve only known him for a couple of hours. After the level of vulnerability, he willingly shared with me, I was starting to think this was about more than a resort suite. Maybe he could feel the undeniable pull between us and the electrifying sexual tension, too? God, was I just a fool for a pretty face? His story invoked a feeling of empathy in me but not enough for me to allow him to have the suite I received as a consolation prize for my humiliation and devastation, a great reminder of why sex and sinfully sexy men should be the last thing on my mind. While I could empathize with him, he clearly had enough money to book another luxury suite on the island where I didn’t have the means to make those same accommodations. I had done well for myself because I had escaped Central Falls's poverty, but I didn’t have access to an inheritance. Hell, sometimes I had to pay my Mami’s bills. So, this privileged hottie could be inconvenienced for once in his life and find other accommodations.

“Wow, that’s so scary, Cliff. I’m sorry that happened. While my reason isn’t life or death like yours, my reason for being here is pretty fucking tragic too. You see, I’m on my honeymoon,” I smirk, watching his beautiful face morph with shock before transforming into confusion. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, lost for words, before tossing back the remainder of his dark rum. I suck in a long deep breath and let it out before continuing, “Don’t worry, you can continue your wet dreams and fantasies of your mom becoming my mother-in-law. Hey, I’m not here to yuck anyone’s yum. But I didn’t get married in what would’ve been deemed one of the weddings of the year because my pretty smooth-talking fiancé was balls deep in our wedding planner at the rehearsal dinner the night before our wedding. Who turned out to be an ex-girlfriend of his, which shouldn’t surprise me since my husband-to-be was gungho on us using her services. I guess those services extended to soothing the before-wedding jitters of the groom. My cousin couldn’t wait to show me that video on her phone. But that’s only the start of the shit show. When I went to confront him, it turns out his dick had pretty much made its rounds through most of my bridesmaids, too, except for one.”

I feel hot tears threatening to spill from my eyes, realizing the pain and humiliation were still fresh on my mind. Cliff’s hand tightened around mine, but I was too ashamed to meet his face. The feelings of stupidity turned the delicious meal in my stomach sour.

“Well, damn. At least you realized who your real friends were, and you had family on your side,” Cliff tries to comfort me. His words falling between us made me bluster at the word family, causing me to rip my hand from his sympathetic touch angrily.

“My cousin had been fucking him behind my back since I’d introduced him to my family. The joke was on me that the only person who hadn’t taken a joy ride on his unimpressive manhood was my best friend, Imani,” I ground out. I feel the bile rise in my throat, causing me to scrape back my chair and dash for the nearest discreet spot to empty the contents of my stomach. The betrayal had literally made me sick to my stomach.

I wasn’t sure if a month-long getaway in paradise would be able to make me brave enough to go back to my life in the States.

I kick off my metallic gold Tory Burch sandals shimmying my burnt orange backless silk Cami minidress up my thighs to comfortably flop down on the bright rainbow-colored hammock that is slowly becoming my place of salvation. I didn’t think through this sexy dress I chose for our dinner, but I didn’t know my night would end with me hiding out from Cliff in the hammock. I close my eyes, letting the gentle breeze soothe my prickly skin while I try not to fall into a deep depressive state. I can’t believe it still felt like my world was splintering apart, with the shards ricocheting like a thousand stabs to my heart when I relived my almost-wedding debacle when retelling it to Cliff.

I lay there listening to the sweet melody of the waves, trying to figure out If I had started to become so bitter and self-centered that I believed the betrayal I had experienced was actually worst than a man experiencing a stroke. Disregarding the hours I spent dolling myself up for dinner, I rub my palm down my face giving no fucks that I am probably smearing my makeup. I needed to get a grip on my emotions and pick up the leftover pieces of my tattered self-esteem and rebuild myself as a brand-new woman. I am fucking Aury Dominguez, a beautiful badass bitch, that didn’t let a man determine my self-worth. Aury Dominguez doesn’t hide from her problems; she faces them head-on. Fuck! Even if the most gorgeous G.Q.-looking rich prick watched me vomit my dinner from a distance.

I groan, wrenching my eyes open and practically jumping out of my skin, nearly tipping out of the hammock and faceplanting in the gritty white beach sand. I swear my mind continuously summons Cliff like he’s a trust fund devil incarnate. My eyes rake over his golden feet that are sinking into the sand. God, I’d love to lick every inch of this man, including his toes. Damn right, this man is so sexy he could make me develop a foot fetish. How could toes be so damn sexy? My eyes slowly glide up his khaki linen shorts that loosely cling to his muscular thighs, poorly masking the nice bulge between his thighs. Cliff has rolled up the sleeves to his lightweight linen shirt that hangs open, revealing his mouthwatering chiseled abs and muscular chest. I blink profusely because I swear I died in a plane crash and have been transported to my own personal heaven. My eyes clash with blue eyes swirling with appreciation and mischief, making my cheeks burn from embarrassment since I tactlessly checked him out without even attempting to mask my hunger for this gorgeous man.

“I come bearing gifts,” I scoff at his cheesy statement, trying to look everywhere but his handsome face, “Look, I apologize. I ruined our amazing dinner by starting a bartering war of who had a more fucked up reason for taking a trip to one of the most beautiful places in the world, all by their lonesome. I’ve had some pretty terrible dates, but I’ve never had a woman run from her seat and puke up her guts as you did,” he finishes with a teasing statement. My cheeks burn hotter, knowing that this man will not let me live down another embarrassing moment of my life to add to the many that I’ve been racking up like a gambler’s debt.

“Damn, that’s pretty embarrassing. Also, who said that was a date? I thought of it as two people forced together by odd circumstances who were both hungry and happened to share a meal. I’ve had enough rich pretty boys like you in my lifetime to never date another. I was being unreasonable earlier. You’re right. You deserve the room. If you find me a nicer suite at another all-inclusive resort and pay the fees, I will be the one to leave,” I say begrudgingly, crossing my arms beneath my chest. Finally, I glance at Cliff, which causes my nipples to stiffen and erotically press against the thin silk of my minidress. His eyes smolder with so much lust and sexual hunger that one look from him causes me to break out in goosebumps from head to toe.

Before I can respond, he forces his big muscular body onto the bright rainbow-colored hammock, forcing me to scoot over to keep the hammock from tipping us out. I take in the contrast of my Dominican honey bronze skin tone to the golden-tanned skin of his arms that are speckled with fine blond hairs. We lay next to each other for a few seconds in companioned silence which should scare me since I barely know this man, but it has the opposite effect. I feel serene and comforted not being closed off and alone for the first time in a while. I notice he has an open champagne bottle between his thighs but no glasses. I snatch the champagne bottle taking a long pool of the bubbly golden liquid and focusing on the citrusy notes of apple and its subtle, hidden notes of brioche. I let out a throaty groan, not giving a fuck that some dribbles out the corner of my lips.

I feel a wet lick across my chin and up to the corner of my mouth, sending a shiver of desire coursing through my body. Cliff hovers above me, our mouths centimeters apart. His pupils are blown wide, making his eyes a coal black rimmed by a stormy blue shade. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest as I begin to pant. I close my eyes, leaning towards his lips, wanting to feel their softness. I edge forward, feeling a whisper of a kiss from the light, airy tropical breeze; opening my eyes, I realize that Cliff has resumed his position on his back in the hammock. I lay back down, looking at the starry night, feeling deflated by Cliff’s rejection.

“No,” He grounds out, startling me. Jesus! Did he not want to kiss me that badly? The man licks my face like a lovesick puppy and now declares this isn’t what he wants after unabashedly invading my space with such a sexy little tease.

“No,” I question, confused, still trying to make sense of the gorgeous man lying beside me.

“I have a better idea. We’re both single and trying to catch a break from recent shitty life events, so why not honeymoon together? It is the honeymoon suite that we’re fighting over, for fucks sake. Let’s share the room and have a month-long adventure together, sweet cheeks,” Cliff propositions, stealing the champagne bottle from my hand and taking a long swig from it. The hammock shakes as I turn to face him, watching dribbles of champagne splash across his beautiful chest. Without thinking, I slide my fingers through his chest hair, swiping up the spilled golden goodness and licking the citrusy stickiness from my fingers. I would lick that bottle of champagne off every inch of his body, especially that bulge in his shorts.

Damn, I swear all my time in the heat today has made me fucking delirious.

“I don’t know. That’s still pretty fucking weird. You could be a Ted Bundy or The Craig List Killer. Plus, there’s only one king-size luxurious mattress. Not to mention that we’re both single. We can’t be on a honeymoon,” I counter, getting lost in Cliff’s beautiful eyes.

“Your nipples are constantly hard around me. You shiver around me in over eighty-degree weather, you’re cheeks get this sexy rosy flush anytime you’re in my presence, and if I were to touch your pussy right now, I’d bet it’s so soaking wet that you're dripping down your inner thighs because you’re so hot for my dick, gorgeous. I’ve been a walking boner since I saw you naked. Why deny this sexual tension burning between us,” Cliff responds, making me catch my breath when he gives my hard erect right nipple a flick causing it to strain even harder against the thin silk fabric. His hand lazily peruses down my stomach, and I suck in a breath before his wandering touch hits the apex of my shaking thighs. I don’t stop his hand because his touch is unwelcome. I stop his hand because I’m so fucking wet. I’m shocked the dampness between my legs hasn’t stained my dress. I don’t want him to know his power over my body or my inability to think, let alone speak, due to his nearness.

“I mean, I don’t just have flings with random men, I don’t know. I’m not that kind of girl. I’ve only had two serious boyfriends and don’t sleep around. I was raised in a strict Dominican household where my Mami was shamed for having me as a teen out of wedlock. I don’t know if I could really let loose and give my body to just anyone. No matter how sexy you are,” I babble, my nervous verbal diarrhea getting the best of me.

He strokes my cheek, giving me a smug look, clearly zoning in on my compliment of his smoking-hot appearance and ignoring my apprehension of shacking up with a strange man in a foreign country. In complete persuasion mode, Cliff lays it on heavy, “We’re both sexy with the hots for each other that happen to end up alone in a room together. I see it as fate that we are meant to meet and enjoy each other’s company after the bull shit we had to endure. Let’s have a honeymoon for singles where we write the rules and do stuff neither of us would do in the real world. I’m not going to lie; I do have hookups on vacation because vacation sex is incredible. So, you’ve been missing out on sweet cheeks. We can be whoever we want to be on our honeymoon together, and we’ll part ways at the end of these four weeks and resume our normal lives, and no one will have to know about the fucking fantastic time we had together on this tropical honeymoon.”

I mull over his words in my mind. I had been embarrassed, cheated on, and became a laughingstock in front of many people after my wedding debacle. So, where had being the “wifey type” actually got me? Why not have some fun thousands of miles away and treat this not as a hideaway but as an adventure? An adventure my tightly wound depressive ass needed before going back to the States.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, closing my eyes tightly, and nod my head quickly before I chicken out and change my mind.

 “I need to hear the words from your mouth because, baby, I want to do some nasty things to you right now that I hope you’ll enjoy as much as me,” Cliff whispers, his hot champagne breath grazing my lips and filling my nostrils.

“Yes, I want you to do nasty things to me. I’m on birth control, and I got tested for every sexually transmitted infection and disease under the sun after finding out my jackass almost husband had a wondering dick that wagged for anything with a pussy,” I blurt out, watching Cliff's eyes grow wide picking up on what I might be saying.

“I got a full blood work panel, too. I am STD-free, so I hope that means I can be balls-deep in that delicious pussy with no rubber,” he exclaims like a little boy on Christmas. I close my eyes, trying to silence the mature straight-laced voice in my head, exclaiming that this is an extremely terrible idea. But why not have raw sex with this gorgeous stranger? I wanted nothing between us during the duration of this tropical vacation. I couldn’t make any worse choices overseas than I had in who I would have married back in the States.

I opened my eyes, providing Cliff with a nod and a nervous smile which was all the reassurance he needed before devouring my mouth in the hottest kiss of my lifetime. Without breaking our lip lock, he pulls me on top of him, running my hot wet lace covered pussy over his impressive erection. The man’s mouth makes love to mine as his kiss starts off achingly slow, increasing the pressure and tempo of his soft lips against mine. A breathy gasp leaves my mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue between my lips, causing me to shiver as he exerts his dominance controlling our kiss by cupping my face with his hands. Cliff kisses me breathlessly, biting my bottom lip before tracing the seam of my mouth with his tongue. He travels towards my neck, leaving threads of lust with his tongue in his wake as he licks and nibbles along my jawline before sucking on the sensitive pulse point of my neck. Cliff’s hands travel up my waist to cup my heavy breasts. He palms my titties, massaging them as he wrings moan after moan from my body as he sucks and nibbles on my neck and clavicle.

His tongue licks long, slow strokes over the tops of my breasts as he pinches and rolls my nipples through the thin silk fabric of my dress, causing me to throw my head back in ecstasy as I grind my hips into his erection, trying to relieve some tension between my legs. My pussy becomes wetter and wetter as he roughly plays with my nipples which are so hard and so erect from his skillful touch. My body ignites when he sucks on my overly sensitive right nipple through the silk of my dress. His hot damp breath against the silk fabric straining against my nipple feels extremely erotic, sending a zing right to my achingly swollen clitoris. His hand cups my left breast, massaging the heft of it as he rubs my nipple between his index finger and thumb before plucking at it until I scream from the pleasurable pain.

I let out a frustrated huff when he pulls away from me to peel the dress down my arms to expose my large, heavy breasts to his heated gaze. Cliff plucks at my right nipple while running his tongue around my left until I’m a withering mess, screaming expletives and dry-humping him. He lets out a low throaty laugh sending vibrations down my spine, causing me to feel a tingle between my thighs as my orgasm builds. He rucks up the short skirt of my mini slip dress to access my plump ass. He grabs handfuls of my ass cheeks, moving me back and forth across his lap as he rotates between sucking and nibbling on both of my nipples. I begin panting, feeling light head while squeezing him between my thighs, loving the way my clitoris feels rubbing against the lace of my thong against his bulging dick through his linen shorts. Cliff slides my damp thong to the side, his deft fingers eliciting a yelp from my body when they ghost over the swollen nub between my thighs.

“Damn, baby. Your pussy is leaving puddles all over me because you're so wet and needy for my dick,” he says smugly.

My teeth sink into my fleshy bottom lip. My eyes roll to the back of my head when he lightly strokes my aching clitoris with his index and middle finger. The light strokes of his fingertips cause my arousal to grow stronger until I’m panting and squirming. Cliff sucks harder on my right nipple swirling his two fingers around my clit until my hips chase his fingers because I need fucking more. More of his tongue tricks against my nipples, more of his addicting touch against my heated flesh, and hell, I was practically ready to beg for his dick each and every time my hot wet core clenched around nothingness, eager to be filled to the hilt. Cliff slides his thumb under my clitoral hood, massaging me until I’m ready to crawl out of my skin from pleasure. He skillfully strokes my clitoris until I break into a sweat from my rigorous grinding on his lap. I scream out gibberish as if I’m speaking tongues when he plunges two fingers into my hot wet center while continuing his delicious torture with confident strokes of his thumb on my clitoris.

“F-f-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I shout at the top of my lungs as I detonate around his hand that’s fucking me. I see so many stars, and I swear I launched my way through the Milky Way galaxy. Cliff picks up my limp body, weak from my climax, positioning me on the hammock, so I’m laying vertically with my Senegalese twists dangling off one side of the hammock and my feet off the other. 

I gaze up at Cliff through hooded eyes, awed by the sex god before me, as he drops his boxers and shorts. My mouth falls open in a wide O-shape as I ogle the huge thick girthy dick that juts out from his immaculate body. My limbs feel heavy, and I can barely open my eyes, but my pussy quivers as if it hasn’t got the memo. I feel this deep ache that hungers for his dick to be inside of me.

“Fuck my pussy, Cliff,” the plea slips from my mouth due to the sex craze delirium that clouds my mind.

“With pleasure, sexy,” Cliff answers cockily with a smug grin on his pretty face. Cliff folds me in half, making me grab the back of my calves as my knees sit by my ears. The man has folded me up like a pretzel before dropping to his knees and licking me from my perineum to the top of my mound. He devours my pussy with his mouth, sucking on my clitoris, tonguing my labia, and lazily sliding three fingers in and out of my wet hot pussy. He fucks me with his mouth and fingers until I’m convulsing, thrashing my head side to side and purring his name like a satisfied kitten.

“I had to make sure that pussy was nice and wet for the good pounding I’m about to give you. Now, be a good girl for me and hold those legs in place so I can fuck you hard and good,” he growls, standing to his feet and slamming his dick into me hard and fast. I feel so full as he rocks into me, causing the hammock to sway back and forth with his every thrust. I feel like I’m soaring in the air as he slides into me hard, then pulls out of me excruciatingly slow, hitting every sensitive nerve on his way out. Cliff’s eyes move between, watching my breasts bounce in mesmerizingly rhythmic circles as he grunts into me and his dick moves in and out of my glistening wet pussy. I feel my orgasm building for a second time, my hot wet core begins to clench around him, and he picks up his rhythm frantically. Pounding my pussy mercilessly until I let out a high-pitched scream as I fly over the edge of euphoria as my orgasm rips from my throat. He rocks into me once, twice, thrice before I feel his dick twitch inside me as he grunts out his release. Cliff collapses beside me on the hammock. We lay next to each other, trying to catch our breaths.

“Damn, girl. Your tight wet pussy almost took me out, and those sweet fucking moans and whimpers you make while I’m inside you. We’ll definitely be fucking on this hammock again,” Cliff murmurs through labored breathing while mindlessly toying with my nipples.

I can’t respond because I’m too exhausted and overwhelmed by pleasure from the hottest screw of my life. Damn, this would be a better honeymoon than I would’ve had with my shitty ex-fiancé because Cliff could actually bone. I smiled to myself because I couldn’t wait to embark on our honeymoon for singles. I was going back to the United States as a far better and more worldly woman than expected.

From gorgeous sunrise hikes to skinny dipping in the natural hot springs to snorkeling and swimming with stingrays to white water rafting, the adventures I’d been having over the past few weeks with Cliff had been endless. For the first time in my life, I actually felt alive. Cliff’s libido was never-ending, but I couldn’t get enough of his body and the way he fucks me. I usually dreaded sex with men because I usually had to finish myself off with my battery-operated boyfriends or my hand. But, with Cliff, the orgasms were so powerful I sometimes blacked out from ecstasy, having multiples in a row many times a day. Anytime Cliff graces my presence, my pussy gets immediately wet, my skin flushes, and all my fantasies become delectably dirty, starring Cliff’s hypnotic dick filling all of my holes.

This chance encounter with Cliff had been the best thing to ever happen to me. Without Cliff, I probably would’ve spent the last few weeks moping around, pigging out, and reading in the hammock. My nipples pucker thinking about all the hot sex we’d had on the hammock. I lazed in the hot tub, sipping my Red Viagra, feeling relaxed from the vodka and black currant liqueur while my taste buds salivated from the tartness of the cranberry flavor. Damn, this is the fucking life. I thought my lying, cheating, shitty ex-fiancé’s money was long and went on for days, but, come to find out, the zeros in his bank account were child’s play. Cliff is fucking Bruce Wayne rich! I swear the man has more money than God. After most of my twenties being around rich pricks, I couldn’t stand them. However, with a snap of Cliff’s fingers, he was able to charter a Seataly Yacht for a private boat tour of Bali.

“Here you are, Sweet Cheeks. I was wondering where you’d been hiding,” Cliff loudly whispers, his hot breath tickling my ear, causing the hairs on the nape of my neck to stand up. I shiver as his tongue runs over the shell of my ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth. Hot ribbons of desire course through my body, making my clitoris throb to life between my legs. His hands peel my flimsy bikini cups to the side, giving him access to my large, heavy breasts. He strokes the mounds of my breasts while rolling my nipples between his thumb and index finger coaxing a throaty moan of pleasure from my lips. My head falls back against his shoulder as I give him free rein to do whatever the fuck he likes to my body. Cliff unties my bikini top, and I watch it float down into the bubbles of the Jacuzzi tub. He slaps my breasts together with a growl causing my hot wet pussy to clench with sexual want. Unceremoniously, Cliff lifts my wet body out of the hot tub carrying me to the other side of the yacht's upper deck. I press my breasts to his chest, wrapping my opposite arm across his shoulder to hide my breasts from the view of any of the crew aboard the boat.

He sits me on my feet on the bow of the boat. The view from this angle is breathtaking, especially as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in shades of plum, red-orange, fuchsia, and bright yellow. I feel a chill from the tropical breeze that hits my body as the boat glides through the water. I smell the saltiness in the air, and my arousal as Cliff frees me from my bikini bottoms.

“Cliff, what the fuck? The captain and crew can probably see us,” I squealed, trying to hide my nakedness with my hands. Cliff gives me a broad smile with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kicks my stance wide and sinks to his knees. Before I can protest any further, his tongue connects with the wet, slick folds of my pussy. He laps up my juices, nibbling on my pussy lips and swirling his tongue around my clitoris. Cliff’s tongue between my thighs is absolutely majestic. He sucks on my clitoris, inserting two fingers in my hot wet channel and stroking against my pleasure spot in a come hither motion. I feel my orgasm begin to build as he teases my clit with his tongue and his thumb. He licks his way down to my vagina and scissors my clitoris as his tongue swirls inside me. He fucks me with his mouth and fingers until I let out a shrill scream. My orgasm makes me feel weak in the knees and completely shatters me. Cliff catches me before I fall, cradling me in his arms, and devours my mouth with his, which still glistens with my arousal. I taste the sweet tartness of myself, loving the taste of my essence from his mouth.

He arranges me on all fours facing away from the captain’s helm. I feel the tip of his big thick manhood teasing my sensitive entrance. I whimper to fatigue to beg him to fill me with his dick, but I start to back into his hips, trying to get the dire relief I crave. I need Cliff’s dick inside of me to satiate my aching pussy. Since it’s become acquainted with Cliff’s cock, nothing else will fully satisfy me unless I bounce on that man’s dick.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you, babe? Well, I’m the perfect man for the job. Your sweet little pussy is so wet for me, girl,” Cliff grounds out, slamming into me hard. He sets a strenuous pace, fucking me erratic and chaotic. He pulls all the way out, slapping my ass a few times before refilling me to the hilt. He grabs both of my arms, crossing them behind my back, so he can fucking own me and my pussy. I feel him deeper in this position as my cheek rests on the ground. Cliff takes his other free hand and grabs me by my nape as he rucks into me hard and fast. He pounds my pussy until we both soar over the precipice of pleasure. My second orgasm ruptures out of me so loud that I don’t give a damn about everyone working on the ship hearing my screams of ecstasy.

Cliff’s sweaty body collapses on top of me, utterly spent. I loved the feeling of Cliff’s warm body on top of mine, his cock still nestled deep inside me, keeping his cum from leaking down my thighs. I loved our time together, and I loved the way he fucked me. I loved this man to pieces.

Oh, shit!

Is it possible to fall in love with someone in a matter of weeks?

I don’t know if it’s love, but I know my life won’t be the same without Cliff.

At the end of this tropical getaway, Cliff will be taking a piece of my heart with him wherever he goes.

The last few days we had left together in Bali, it stormed terribly. We spent the time exploring each other’s bodies and fucking from sunrise to sunset. It was as if the horrible weather was a blessing in disguise because I didn’t want my break from reality to end. If I were honest with myself, I didn’t want the fairy tale relationship I had weaved in my head with Cliff to come to an end, and the day I had to say goodbye to Cliff, shattered my soul. He didn’t seem like he really wanted to say goodbye either, extending his time with me until he had to choose between leaving or missing his flight. He fucked me in a million different positions until my voice went hoarse from screaming his name.

I knew he’d be going back home to wherever that was and probably making amends with his ex-girlfriend so he could live the life of rich pretty trust fund men like him lived. I wish I could call him mine. I bet his girlfriend was the complete opposite of me. A pretty innocent-looking flower like Lili Reinhart with the proper ideal pedigree to match his to have gorgeous golden-haired children with blue eyes. Not Central Falls trash with too much tits and ass to ever walk a runway. A Spanish-speaking girl that looked more like a Saweetie or a Cardi B on a good hair day.

Cliff hadn’t just shown me that life could be amazing if I’d just let go and throw caution to the wind, but how amazing it could feel to be with someone that treated me like he won the lottery anytime we spent time together. I had stupidly caught feelings in a relationship with an expiration date. I sure knew how to pick men. The ding from the alarm from my phone pulled me out of my trance. If I sat down and closed my eyes, I could remember his laidback personality, panty-melting grin, and those sensual caresses that sent shivers down my spine and made me have butterflies in my vagina.

 I reached for the twentieth pregnancy test I had taken since returning home. My stomach roiled, and my vision blurred with tears. For what felt like the one-thousandth time, the stick read pregnant. This couldn’t be happening to me. I was a good girl. I was always careful. How could I be fucking pregnant? I had taken every test imaginable, from the two lines to the Clearblue, and they all sealed my fate that I was going to be someone’s Mami.

I had been so fucking stressed killing myself to ensure my work was caught up before having to leave for my honeymoon, the wedding planning, the disastrous deceit, and reveling in my own self-misery that my birth control shot had run out and I was a few weeks overdue for the next one. I had been so fucking stupid. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, placing my palm on my flat stomach. I had experienced waves of nausea on and off during my trip, and when my plane landed at home in Bellevue, I was as sick as a dog. It wasn’t until I bought a new phone and got messages from my gynecologist I had a sick inkling of an idea that the worst was yet to come.

I slid to the tile floor of my bathroom, leaning my back against my pristine white bathtub. I had come back from my honeymoon pregnant but husbandless.

The bigger question weighing on my soul, though?

Who is the baby daddy?

Is it the carefree sweet man of my dreams with golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, or is it the lying, deceitful piece of shit with dark hair and lying gray eyes that is the bane of my existence?

Whoever said pregnancy is a beautiful and magnificent experience is a bald-faced liar. I had spent the first three months of my pregnancy puking out my guts. Sadly, that hasn’t even been my worst pregnancy symptom, and my first trimester had been a complete and utter tragedy. I used to be energetic and unable to fall asleep without a strict sleep hygiene routine. Now, I find myself dozing off at the drop of a hat, whenever and wherever. The worst place I’ve fallen asleep has been in a meeting with some of the newest board members of my job.

Yes, that’s right. How humiliating?

I had fallen asleep on the shoulder of some wealthy asshole. To make matters worse, I drooled on the expensive fabric of the custom-made suit of one of the men who held the company’s fate in his hands.

Also, I thought my P.M.S. was terrible. Shit, these pregnancy mood swings were no fucking joke. Yesterday, I found myself crying to the mailman, overwhelmed with gratitude for him for filling the apartment mailboxes with junk mail. Then, I swear my unborn child already harbors a personal vendetta against me because my favorite comfort foods taste like dog shit covered in rotten eggs garnished with spoiled milk.

Farewell, chocolate.

Even the thought of eating the once delicious melt-in-your-mouth sweet treat has me wanting to dry heave. Women talk about weird pregnancy food cravings. If only I’d been so lucky to want fried pickles on top of an ice cream sundae. Instead, my baby is deciding to flip me the bird from inside my womb by causing all my favorite foods to be no longer tasty.

My pregnancy has been miserable, and I still have a good few months to go before this baby rips through my vagina. I shiver in disgust as flashbacks of every terrible child-birthing movie scene race across my mind. Yeah, I’m totally convinced whoever dared to mutter that pregnancy is a beautiful and magnificent thing was probably some arrogant prick with a dick that never had to carry around what felt like heavy permanent, continually growing sandbags strapped to the front of their body. The more this parasite grew inside my body, leeching off of me, the heavier and more awkward I felt. I wasn’t a small woman by any means, but I wasn’t expecting constant body aches equating to being hit by a train multiple times, nor the swelling of my fingers and ankles.

Damn, I fucking craved blueberries. I never cared for them before getting knocked up, but now, I couldn’t get enough of those small blue juicy tart fuckers. I had replaced my Sunday brunch booze cruises with Sunday mornings spent trying to secure the most succulent berries from Pike’s Place Market. I had been eating so many damn blueberries I was expecting to go into labor and pop out a baby smurf. But what I craved more than blueberries was a good fucking. Pregnancy hormones had sent my libido into a damn tailspin. I wanted to hump every and anything with a pulse, and I guess this is how my shitty ex felt. My vibrators weren’t even a match for my insatiable sex drive. I needed to invest in additional outlets for all the chargers because my battery-operated boy toys were constantly dead.

I had gotten to the point of desperation that I’d asked my best friend, Imani if she thought it’d be tacky if I added dildos and vibrators to the baby registry. I think she was more shocked that the little demure Aury Dominguez, whom she mocked for being the only kid in college with an iron and who went to bed by nine p.m., even on Friday nights, owned sex toys than me wanting to add them to my registry. But, of course, she told me you could take the girl out of Central Falls, but you couldn’t take the Central Falls out of the girl. So, I decided against requesting those items, which the thought would’ve made Aury Dominguez from a year ago cringe. However, I’d become the poster child of a Jerry Springer episode, so why not lean into my latest persona?

A deep clearing of the throat brings me out of my introspection and back to the conference room of Velvet Vibe. I give a small smile to the older silver fox sitting across the large wooden espresso conference table. It took every ounce of restraint not to roll my eyes at one of the newest big wigs that held the purse strings to our company. My life just kept getting better and better because bad things in life loved to come in threes.

Not only did I have to call off my dream wedding because my lying, sleazy fiancé was a manwhore armored in morals and values he held everyone to and committed hypocrisy daily like the best-dressed politicians. But I also returned pregnant with two potential baby daddies after one of the best vacations of my life. Imani said it best when she heckled me that only a little miss goody two shoes would casually hook up with a stranger for the first time in her life and end up knocked up and unsure of the baby’s Papi. But my latest dilemma, my career, is now up in the air because of a recent big company buyout of Velvet Vibe.

Never ever let one person have that one percent of power in a company. At the time, being young and a few years out of college, I thought it was a great idea to start a company with my two best friends. It made sense to let the friend putting up the majority of the capital have fifty-one percent while Imani and I split the other forty-nine percent two ways. Well, that was the dumbest business mistake of my life because, after the wedding debacle with our primary owner’s cousin, she decided to sell the company out from under Imani and me. So, since I had a baby on board that was shackled to me for the next eighteen years and then some, I’d started thinking about giving this Toronto Tech company headhunter a holler because my little blueberry smurf growing inside me deserved stability and security.

The big wig’s piercing gaze and eyes roaming over my body like I was a delectable meal made my skin crawl.

Ugh!

My blood boiled every time I thought about that green-eyed snake of an ex-business partner; that entire family was the ugliest and most vile creatures dressed in layers of diamonds and pearls disguised as perfect societal beacons and play pretties. I was and still am the fucking brains behind the development of Only Fanz’s fiercest competitor. Velvet Vibe is a website and mobile app for cam girls and sex workers who want a safe and secure space to create an online presence without the fear of censorship. As the head software engineer of the Velvet Vibe, it was disheartening to know that the company had sold to one of the biggest and oldest international enterprises, which is, of course, run by men. Who knew how they would come in and shake up our company? How would we convince our content creators to stay on board with Velvet Vibe if the new owners took it too rogue? These were the worries that troubled my mind. The only good thing is that they kept me up at night, which kept the child-birthing nightmares at bay.

Sex is great when it sells millions, which makes everyone want to be in the business of skin, no matter how ass backward and antiquated their company's thoughts are about women and sexuality. Plus, I’m sure Maali Enterprises wants to bring in their own people to lead each team. Three women, the brains behind a company giving Only Fanz a run for the money, in these rich pricks’ minds that own Maali Enterprises, it is probably just a chance of luck.

As Imani finishes her presentation about marketing and sales, I take that as my cue to slide my pregnancy flats back onto my painfully aching feet and prepare to deliver my presentation on the technology and roadmaps for the upcoming updates for Velvet Vibe. I had been looking forward to this meeting, thinking we would just be speaking to new investors. Now, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about giving my ideas to the new owners of this company. I had worked my ass off to become a highly sought-after software engineer, and Velvet Vibe was my first baby.

I clench my jaw, practically grinding my molars to sawdust as I head to the front of the conference room to present. While presenting, the conference room door opens, causing me to lose my train of thought. Everyone sits up a little bit straighter, the air in the room feeling more intense, and how this man carries himself lets me know he’s someone important to everyone in this room. He’s probably the person who signs all our paychecks and divvies out dividends. Our eyes meet, and a spark of electricity passes between us.

Had my sex-fevered brain conjured up my sexy hookup from Bali? But he couldn’t be “the” Cliff from Bali. His sandy blond hair is no longer shaggy but styled into a tousled ivy league haircut. His broad, muscular frame is encased in a designer suit perfectly tailored to fit his frame. Gone is the carefree swagger of my Bali-Cliff, and in his place is the arrogant strut of a captain of industries. I swear I’m losing my mind; this isn’t the man I picture touching me as I stroke my clitoris and finger my pussy in the late dark hours of my lonely bedroom.

The gorgeous man’s steps falter as his eyes home in on my belly, but he gives me the universal hand gesture to continue as he situates his big body into a vacant chair around the conference table. My confidence falters. I feel out of my depth and not like the tech whiz that developed one of the best erotic platforms on the market but like a silicon valley college intern. The more I feel his laser-sharp gaze burning holes into the side of my face, the more I feel as if the air is being sucked out of the room, and I’m slowly suffocating. I thank God I’m the last to speak at the meeting as I bring my presentation to a close. I need to get the fuck out of here and lock myself in my office. Every head in the room swivels to the beautiful man that only recently joined our meeting. Everyone fiddles nervously, waiting for him to speak.

“Everyone is free to leave; except Miss, um, Miss,” the gorgeous man stammers, his cheeks slightly flushing because he doesn’t even know my last name. To think we’ve seen every inch of each other naked and bared our souls to one another, but we didn’t even exchange last names. Hell, we fucked like we were having an Olympic competition of who could provide the other with the most orgasms, and we probably wouldn’t have even exchanged first names had we not met in such an awkward circumstance.

“Dominguez,” I respond, finishing his sentence and subconsciously rubbing my hand across my throbbing lower back, trying to relieve some of the pain.

He nods his head in response while my heartbeat roars to life in my ears. Clearly, he’s not a man of many words because he nods his head in dismissal as everyone else stands to escape the suffocating room. Imani gives me a concerned look with a rise of her eyebrow, but I give her a weak smile, and she exits the room.

“Maali, it’s always a pleasure to see you, no matter how brief. I hope you can join me and your father for some golf sometime soon,” the silver fox greets the man who stars in all my sex fantasies.

Maali?

What. The. Fuck.

My world tilts off kilter, the room begins to spin, and I can’t catch my breath. Another idiotic business mistake I made was never being involved in the actual business operations and financing aspect of Velvet Vibe unless my business partners mandated my appearance. Hence, why I have no fucking clue about the faces behind the Maali Enterprises name. My only nugget of knowledge is that the company is a multi-billion dollar empire run by Australians, similar to the Murdochs. But the oldest son and company’s heir name wasn’t Cliff. It was Henry or Harry or something that began with an H.

After the door to the conference room slams shut, Cliff or whatever this sexy man’s name is gets up and locks the door. As he walks towards me, his gait has lost confidence. The arrogant air of the man who rudely interrupted my presentation earlier is gone. He stops a few feet away from me, placing his trembling hands into the pockets of his designer slacks, trying to gain his withering composure. His eyes roam my body like the first time we met. Only this time, he’s cataloging the changes in my body since the last time he saw me naked. The silence between us is deafening, and the distance stretching between us is like the enormous chasm of the Amazon River.

“Was this your plan,” Cliff asks, eyes not moving from the swell of my midsection, making me stroke my small baby bump protectively. I stare at him in confusion, feeling as if I’ve missed something important and trying to reflect on our conversations during our month-long escape from reality. However, my mind is coming up blank. Before I can respond, he continues, “Find out where I’d be vacationing, pretend to be on birth control, and get pregnant with a Maali offspring?”

Whack!

My hand leaves a stark red palm print that mars his gorgeous face.

Shit! I definitely need to reach out to that recruiter after bitch slapping the new owner of Velvet Vibe. My blood is boiling, and my pregnancy hormones are raging. Besides the initial snap of his head, Cliff doesn’t acknowledge the fact I smacked him across his face. Instead, he looks at me smugly as if I played right into his trap, making me want to break his perfect nose.

How fucking dare him! How could he accuse me of something so damn vindictive? More than anything, his words stung, feeling as if he ripped my heart from my chest and sucker-punched it.

“If anyone lied, it was you. What’s your name? It’s clearly not Cliff. I may not pay much attention to high society or what’s happening in the business world. Still, I know the son and heir of Maali Enterprises and the president of Acquisition and Mergers name is Henry,” I maliciously fling at him, but it doesn’t land with the desired effect. His shoulders begin to shake, and he laughs at me hysterically.

“My name isn’t fucking Henry, Jesus. No wonder this company was easy to obtain if someone running it didn’t even know the names or the faces of the biggest industry leaders. A random ass person on the street usually knows that information. If our kid is a girl, it doesn’t need a brain because at least it hit the genetic lottery with you as its mother,” Cliff jokes. That charming boyish grin splits across his face teleporting me back to Bali, almost causing me to lose my train of thought. But my mind fixates on his backhanded compliment. This jackass just called me stupid, un-fuckng-believable.

“Boy or girl, this baby might not be yours. I had a fiancé shortly before ending up in a room with you in Bali, you dumbass. Also, what the fuck is your name then? Is it Harry,” I angrily question, invading his personal space. One of the many miscalculations on my part because the glorious scents of bergamot, citrus, and his natural musk filled my nostrils, sending a zing of sexual want to my throbbing clitoris. Cliff’s furious gaze at the mention of the baby not being his morphed into a hooded glare of desire. He brushes one of the loose wavy tendrils of my hair behind my ear, making my entire body tingle.

“It’s Heathcliff. I didn’t lie to you. People in the business world call me Heath, and when I want to be anyone but Maali Enterprises, I go by Cliff. You said it might not, by the way. Does that mean you don’t know who this kid's father is,” he inquires. But the only thing I can think about is that gorgeous mouth of his licking between my thighs. I was so damn horny; I didn’t want to think about the paternity of my baby. I wanted the man who made me cum so hard that I thought every orgasm would be my demise. I wanted him balls deep in my pussy, stroking my overly sensitive, swollen clitoris.

“I don’t know a lot of things. But I know one thing. I want you to fuck my brains out, Cliff. Will you do that,” I ask boldly. I had a one-track mind like a horny teenage boy who got his dick wet for the first time. The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips slam down on mine. He forces his tongue into my mouth, kissing me like a man about to go to war, uncertain that he’ll make it back unscathed and alive. Damn, I missed this. He kissed me like it was his one true calling in life fucking my mouth with his tongue while his hands roamed and stroked every curve of me, becoming reacquainted with my body. He pulls away, coming up for air only for a second teasing me by sucking on my tongue. He kisses down my throat, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he elicits a moan from me as he massages my breasts through my bland black shapeless shift dress.

  “Don’t draw this shit out. No games, no teasing. My pussy needs you inside of me, hard and fast. I’m so fucking wet for you,” I demand, shimmying out of my not-so-sexy maternity briefs, maneuvering my body to a seated position on the wooden espresso conference tables, and spreading my legs wide to him. Cliff takes a sharp intake of breath, his eyes darkening to a coal black rimmed with a stormy blue as he stares down at my glistening wet pussy lips. He whispers a string of expletives as his fingers connect with my arousal, that’s dripping everywhere because I’m so wet, horny, and in need of a good hard dicking down. He swipes his fingers between my folds, circling and stroking the nub between my thighs, coaxing a whimper from the depths of my throat. It’s hot as hell to watch him remove his fingers from beneath my dress, glistening with my juices that he slowly licks clean off his fingers. I shudder, watching him close his eyes like it’s the tastiest thing he’s had in days.

He quickly undoes his slacks, shoving his boxers down his legs and revealing his big girthy dick. My mouth waters, looking at his amazing dick. I want it in my mouth, but I’m too eager to feel him between my thighs, filling me up and fucking me. The fulfillment of those fantasies of me on my knees choking on his cock will have to wait for another time. Well, if there is another time. I lean back on my elbows as he props my ankles on his shoulders. He teases my entrance before sliding into home, impaling himself inside me. I marvel at how full I feel. Nothing beats the real thing. He fits into me hard and fast, swiveling his hips. But something feels off and awkward between us.

I let out a frustrated grunt, questioning, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why’s there so much hesitation?”

He pulls out before stuffing me full of his cock, repeating this motion while he seemingly tries to gather his thoughts. Cliff’s actions cause me to lose my fucking mind with pleasure. Finally, he holds still, his cock nestled deep inside me as he awkwardly looms over me. He looks almost embarrassed, “There’s just so much more of you. I don’t know where to grab you to keep you from flying across the table as I fuck into you. Plus, is this even a comfortable position?”

“Did you just call me fat, dumbass? Also, I’m just pregnant and not made of glass. Just stop fucking talking and fuck me like we’re back in Bali,” I loudly whisper, kegeling his dick with my pussy and moving my hips. He matches my movement, follows my rhythm, and fucks the shit out of me until I’m deliriously gasping for breath, and my pussy has him in a vise grip. He slams his mouth on mine, muffling our screams of pleasure as we cum. I push him off me, using the back of my hand to rub the sweat from my forehead as I try to catch my breath. Cliff composes himself taking his time getting redressed.

Damn, who knew anger-fueled sex could be so delicious? For the first time since being pregnant, my body feels sexually satisfied and not wound too tight from stress. But that’s short-lived when Cliff opens that pretty boy mouth of his, shattering the blissful moment to ask, “How soon can we learn the paternity of the baby?”

I stare at him in a daze, unsure if I ever want to know who fathers my child. Hell, I didn’t know my papi, and I had made it through life okay. I let out an annoyed hiss, knowing this gorgeous man in front of me would be relentless in his tactics and pursuit to find out if I were carrying a Maali.

I practically jump out of my skin from the shock of the ice-cold ultrasound gel that my Ob-Gyn slathers on my abdomen. My mind had been millions of miles away, rehashing the chaos that had ensued this morning, transporting me out of the small, sterile, and intimate patient room and back into my chic and cozy Bellevue apartment. That morning, I hadn’t been ready to drag myself out of bed and face the real world because the paternity test results would be in any day now, probably faster than expected because Cliff had told the medical office that there was no dollar amount he wouldn’t pay or donation he wouldn’t make to get a rush put on the test results. Even now, as the doctor set everything up for the ultrasound, I felt myself rolling my eyes at the tactless way he tossed his billions around and spoke about money like he cleaned the shit from his ass with hundred-dollar bills every morning.

My heartbeat accelerates, and my body develops a slight tremor even thinking about the paternity test results. Within a few days of finding out I was pregnant, Imani had thrown herself into heavily researching the earliest stage a paternity test could be conducted, like she was vying to be Maury Povich’s successor. I’d known I could get a N.I.P.P. during my first trimester, but I had no earthly idea how to contact my cheap Bali thrill. Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know the man’s full government name. Then, there was no way in hell I would have opened that can of worms with my ex to ask for a cheek swab sample. Before Cliff had blown back into my life like a cyclone causing irreparable devastation, I had already become content with being a single mother. It’s not like it was the worst fate to befall a child. A single mother had raised me, and she’s a damn good one. Plus, I had experienced enough heartache from rejection and knowing the trauma of feeling like a burden not to want to subject my little blueberry smurf to the harsh reality I had lived as a child.

Unfortunately, I had woken to a series of text alerts, fist pounding so hard on my front door it would cause any sane person a migraine, and Imani threatening to cut a bitch before the sun had fully risen on the northwest coast. I look over at the man, slowly but surely, becoming a rusty tetanus needle in my side, occupying the chair beside my spot on the examination table. He does nothing to calm my nerves, making me miss Imani tremendously. She had come to every appointment thus far, but even if I wanted to, there was no denying or barring this man from any future doctor’s appointments concerning this baby. He hadn’t even given me a chance to look at the paternity results alone or process the myriad of emotions I was feeling about him being my baby’s papi. The man had barged his way through my front door, frantically waving the latest iPhone showing the undeniable 99.99% probable parentage that my smurf was part Maali. Cliff, the beautiful Bali distraction, had transformed from a sex-fueled fantasy to Heath, the domineering billionaire asshole reality, who is currently wreaking terror on my life. My blood is still boiling that he had the audacity to weasel his way into my home at the asscrack of dawn with his fast-talking demands that I uproot my life because I was now the incubator of the next generation Maali.

As if my life ceased to exist other than making sure his elitist bloodline continued. What a rich fucking self-centered prick. I could barely concentrate on anything my doctor was saying, giving short, curt responses before Cliff could cut me off with his million questions. I furiously cut my eyes in his direction, unwilling to bite back my tongue any longer and eager to give him a piece of my mind. Yet, the sight in front of me tugs the corners of my mouth upward into a slight smile. My billionaire baby daddy sits in a plastic chair in a suit that cost probably a year’s worth of rent for my Ob-Gyn’s office, entirely out of his element, with a notepad in hand, vigorously taking notes. My heart melts slightly to see the angst causing a red flush across his face. At that moment, my anger dissolves in the blink of an eye, causing my animosity to dissipate. I almost hate that he hadn’t been there from the beginning, him probably feeling robbed of those first initial appointments.

Cliff unexpectedly grasps my hand when the room fills with a loud whooshing and slow thumping sound of my, or rather our, baby’s, heartbeat. His beautiful blush-colored pout falls open his mouth, forming an O-shape from the amazement of hearing the sweet melody of the proof of our baby’s life. I turn my head to face him, my eyes colliding with the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. I had never seen his eyes more beautifully bright than when hearing his child’s heartbeat for the first time. The man is peacock proud, his eyes awash with adoration, wonder, and, most importantly, love. The level of his excitement causes my eyes to mist, a tear sliding down my cheek as he mumbles almost inaudibly that this is his life’s greatest gift.

“We’re at the eighteen-week mark, and the baby is growing healthy and strong. Do you want to know the baby’s sex,” my doctor’s soothing voice questions shattering the sweet, emotional moment, the lifeline harboring the fragile connection between Cliff and me.

I shake my head no as Cliff nods yes. The doctor furrows her perfectly manicured brows. Her face morphs into confusion as she looks between us.

“Imani will kill me if I find out the sex without her since she’s been on this journey with me every step of the way. Not to mention, she’s planning on throwing a huge gender reveal party, so she’ll be in contact for the results. As the Mami and person having to do all the work for the duration of the pregnancy, I say we wait,” I say, smiling at my doctor. Cliff’s hand slips from mine, his expression stoic, and his eyes void of emotion. I know that he’s fuming inside. I’m sure he’s probably enraged because I’m making parenting decisions with someone that’s not the child’s parent. From a sideways glance of him, Cliff is trying with all his might not to unleash his anger because no matter how many zeroes you have in your bank account, it’s never a good look to yell at a pregnant lady. To soften the blow that I’ve been parenting this baby with my best friend, I ask the doctor, “Will you print a sonogram for the baby’s papi?”

Cliff takes a sharp intake of breath, tenderly stroking my hair away from my face, a broad grin morphing his beautiful features into a more pleasant expression. The doctor busies herself with printing the sonogram, handing it over, and telling us someone will show us out after I get cleaned up within the next ten minutes. I clumsily sit up, trying not to smear the sticky jelly on the waistband of my floral maxi skirt. As I reach for the baby wipes to clean away the ultrasound gel from my belly, Cliff is already gently wiping it away from my pregnancy bump.

“Look, I know I really stressed you out this morning. I apologize, I was overcome with a lot of emotions, and I’m used to giving orders and people typically following them with no questions asked. When we were in Bali, you were pretty much game for whatever I threw at you, but I’m starting to realize more and more that it was two different sides of us. So, please let me take you to lunch. We really need to discuss our child and how we will navigate this situation,” Cliff explains as he works, cleaning off the last of the slimy gunk from my stomach and chunking the wipes into the closest trash bin.

“Cliff, I have to get to work. I can’t just-“ I start to brush him off, but he quickly interrupts me.

“Easy solution. You're fired. Now, you have no job to keep you from having lunch with me,” Cliff states nonchalantly. I rear my head back, feeling each word like one bitch slap after another to the face.

How fucking dare he think he can dictate my life? I give him my sweetest, fakest, and biggest smile.

“Ha! You’re hilarious. You think you can fire me? I’m sure your legal team will disagree, dumbass. You know, since you’re firing me without cause and I’m pregnant. I hope Maali Enterprises enjoys the lawsuit that I rain down on it and the media coverage of the discrimination,” I counter smugly, lying back down on the exam table and rubbing my temples. Cliff is a force of nature. A beautiful force of nature, but, nevertheless, the endless battles were growing tiresome.

A shiver of anticipation rolls down my spine when I feel Cliff’s large hand creep up my spaghetti strap top to knead my right breast working my nipple free from the restraint of my bra and kneading it between his fingers. Damn, these pregnancy hormones. The man could breathe on me, gaze at me, even scowl at me, and my body instantaneously ignited with lust. I whimper under his skillful touch as he toys with my nipple, which is so hard and so erect. It didn’t take long for the ribbons of desire to course through my veins, turning my body hot and causing it to flush with arousal. My skin prickles with goosebumps when I feel his hot wet breath in my ear while his hand pushes its way down the top of my maxi skirt.

“You must do more than a few empty threats, sweet cheeks. I can play hardball with some of the hardest executives and still hold my own. Look, I know you want to hear that I’m disappointed and angry that you’re having my baby. Probably, because it better fits your self-deprecating narrative that plays on repeat and is on a constant loop in your head. If I’m being honest with you, which I rarely shy away from hard truths, even if you hadn’t told me you were on birth control, nothing would have stopped me from being balls deep inside of your sweet pussy as I tasted every inch of this gorgeous body of yours. I would have talked you into letting me fuck you with no barrier between us. Nothing feels better than your hot wet tight pussy clamping around my dick,” he whispers against my ear, one hand plucking at my nipple while the other gently strokes the outline of my pussy through my panties, causing me to dampen the seat of them.

“Cliff-“ I start, but he cuts me off with a slow passionate kiss, tangling our tongues together, kissing me slow and reverently, teasing a whimper from my throat.

“Call my behavior reckless, gorgeous. People will say I’m too old not to give a fuck about the ramifications of fucking without a rubber, but this sinful body of yours will have any man losing his fucking mind. This may come as a shock to you, but I’m fucking thrilled to be having this baby, especially with a sweet, brilliant woman like you as his or her mother. Also, believe me when I say nothing, and no one will get between me and my child, Aury,” he whispers sweet words laced with the venomous veiled threat into my ear.

Cliff gently bites on my earlobe as a detour to licking his way down my neck and to my tits that he’s exposed. His fingers have slid into my hot wet pussy, thumbing circular motions around my engorged clit while he fucks me deliciously slow with three fingers. In a matter of seconds, I feel myself close to orgasm, but he snatches his fingers away when he feels me begin to tighten around his hand.

“I can have you cuming on my tongue and fingers within the next two minutes. However, that’s your choice to make. Or I could work you over and not let you finish,” he rasps, slapping my clitoris, causing my core to tighten around emptiness. I need to come desperately with the way he runs his tongue over the tops of my breasts and the column of my throat to his lazy strokes of my pussy. Cliff continues his barter, “All you have to do is agree to lunch. What’s my good girl willing to do to finish?” Before I can respond, he hikes up my skirt, shoves my panties to the side, and I nearly jackknife off the exam table when he gives me one slow lick from my perineum to the top of my mound stopping at the erect bud between my thighs to give it an intense few suckles.

My vision blurs, I see black dots, and I eagerly agree. I hold him by his blond hair to my pussy as he fucks me simultaneously with his tongue and mouth until I’m a withering mess. I fling my forearm over my mouth to muffle the intense orgasm that rips through my body as Cliff eagerly laps up my release. I lay limp and weak on the table, afraid I’ll just crumple to the ground if I tried to stand up.

Damn, Mr. Heathcliff Maali did not play fair. By the end of this pregnancy, I will have agreed to all of his demands. As Cliff takes my hand, smiling down at me as we exit the exam room, all I can think about is how much trouble I am in if I can’t get my raging libido under control.

How did my life get here?

I’d been asking myself this question since a few weeks ago when I allowed Cliff to talk me into moving in with him. I mean, I couldn’t complain. The man lived in a luxurious, almost twelve thousand square foot Medina, Washington sprawling mansion with a beautiful view of Lake Washington. In the words of Lil’ Wayne, the man had ten bathrooms, so if I wanted to, I could shit all day. The house was astounding. I had been living in it for a month, and if I made a wrong turn, I still ended up lost, as if I were navigating the most complex labyrinth. Cliff had live-in staff, so I didn’t have to lift a finger. I had access to concierge medical personnel, and he had a professional chef, so why did we ever need to venture out to restaurants? While I understood that my blueberry smurf would own all of this and so much more one day, as a Dominican Chica from Central Falls, Rhode Island, I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t belong.

The more Heathcliff Maali, Australian Billionaire and heir to Maali Enterprises tried to indoctrinate me into his elitist life, the more I felt myself becoming lost to the world of the rich and famous. Hell, this man had fucking dated models, actresses, and every celebrity imaginable. We were not one and the same. I saw the looks, heard the whispers, and I hoped and prayed the floor would open up and swallow me whenever he paraded me around events.

That’s why my gender reveal slash baby shower that started as a simple bows and bow ties themed brunch thrown by Imani had turned into an all-out Great Gatsby-themed soiree with fucking champagne towers, burlesque dancers, wagyu, lobster, and exotic stations of food I couldn’t even pronounce. Unfortunately, my baby daddy’s big-mouth kid sister had let it slip that I was having a baby shower brunch, and their monster of a mother was appalled by the idea. I could still hear her now reading us her lengthy riot act and pissing all over Imani’s plans. Apparently, a Maali baby deserved the best party of the year, even from the womb.

So, here I was, hiding in the spectacular Solarium of the estate, watching the party unfold from afar.

Damn, when did I become such a coward? Or maybe, my fight had just slowly but surely started to die out. Gone was my fiery Latina attitude, and in its place was a shell of the woman I once looked in the mirror and admired. Not to mention, I fucking hated Cliff’s snooty mother. I was the J-Lo to her Jane Fonda, but by no means did I think I could bring her down a notch like J-Lo managed to in Monster-in-Law; because, unlike Jane Fonda’s character, this woman was a well-bred elitist herself that had a tactical marriage to the Maali family. When Cliff’s dad and two younger brothers met me, they winked and slapped him on the back for landing someone so gorgeous, but his mother looked at me like Central Falls dog shit, as my cousin would remind me.

I couldn’t wait for this stupid party to end. I felt a heavyweight settle in the pit of my stomach. Would this become my life as the mother of the Maali heir? A background fixture? A pathetic wallflower with an echo of existence? I had been hiding for well over an hour, and the guest of honor snuggled in my womb, yet no one noticed my missing presence.

“Ah, here you are, sweet cheeks,” Cliff’s baritone voice boomed as he walked toward me through the open French doors of the Solarium. My baby’s papi was both sinful and sexy, looking extremely dapper and absolutely delectable in his tuxedo. How fucking ridiculous. Who the fuck had a black tie and cocktail dress code for a fucking gender reveal slash baby shower? Cliff leans down, greeting me with a kiss on my forehead, reminding me I wasn’t alone in his mother’s false illusion that she was overly enthused about having her first grandchild.

However, I knew the truth. The woman is pissed as hell that the apple of her eye has turned into a prodigal son she wishes she could shun because he knocked up a girl from the wrong zip code out of wedlock. Cliff’s mother niggled at my trauma that’s not buried deep enough, ripping off the scabs of shame that I was pregnant and cohabitating with a man I barely knew. My Abuelita is probably turning over in her grave. I remember my abuelita telling me that when she found out my mother had become a pregnant teen, there weren’t enough candles in the catholic church to light to save my mother’s soul for her shameful misdeed.

I’m brought back to this moment in time by Cliff nibbling on my ear. I let out a small giggle pulling away from his warm breath and tickling my neck. Staring into those gorgeous eyes, I knew I was in love with Heathcliff Maali. I didn’t even care if he’d never love me. I enjoyed every moment with him, even the shitty ones. Also, the way in which he was, without a doubt, head over heels in love with our baby would make any woman fall for a gorgeous man like him. My ex-fiancé did me a favor. It was a shitty favor, but without his lying, cheating antics, I’d never been able to experience true love. Even though we grew up worlds apart, it’s like my soul called out to Cliff’s. We never shared awkward moments. We practically finished each other’s sentences, and even in Bali, I always felt most at home in the comfort of Cliff’s arms.

How coincidental is it for fate to bring the same person into your life twice in uncontrived circumstances?

“I want to taste your cock,” I blurt out, sinking to my knees off the posh patio daybed. Cliff smirked at me, knowing damn well he had turned me into quite the exhibitionist. Cliff and I fucked a lot. We could barely keep our hands off of each other. I’d fucked him more times than I could count. The majority of the times that we screwed were somewhere public. I freed his thick bulge from his tuxedo pants. His colossal dick sprang free and swelled to full mast as I licked my lips. I caught the precum dribbling from the tip of his manhood, using it to lubricate his shaft and head as I stroked him tightly in my closed fist. I swirled the spit around in my mouth, holding his gaze as I slowly let my saliva dribble out of my mouth to coat his cock. I ran my fist up and down his shaft in a circular motion, placing his balls into my mouth and sucking them. Cliff’s big body shudders, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, making me feel like the fucking woman because I knew how to bring my man pleasure. I let go of his balls with a loud pop, licking the seam of his balls all the way to the head of his dick, running my tongue over every ridge of his shaft and paying special attention to every vein.

I suck the dark red head of his dick into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the underside of the tip until he tosses his head back with a groan. I give his frenulum short quick licks before maneuvering his dick to the back of my throat. I slowly lick my way back up to the tip, sucking him hard, fast, and deep, making sure to use lots of tongue. I swallow his dick down my throat, switching up pace and tempo while toying with his balls. As I gobble his dick down my throat fast and hard, swirling my tongue around the underside of the tip, I feel his balls begin to draw up, practically slapping me on my chin. His dick twitches in my mouth, and I hear a loud female gasp as the first round of semen hits the back of my throat.

“Ah, F-fuck, mother,” Cliff yells, a cross between grunts of pleasure, revulsion, and panic reflected in his tone. I swallow a mouthful of his cum as his dick deflates quickly in my mouth. I awkwardly stay hunched over with my baby daddy’s limp dick in my mouth. I don’t know if it’s the discomfort from sitting on my knees six months pregnant, a freeze response of humiliation, or a combination of both. Cliff gently maneuvers his dick out of my mouth, quickly redressing and pulling me to my feet from underneath my armpits.

Well, not only can I never look Mrs. Maali in the eyes again, but I’ve also just added another reason to hate me to her list. I’m sure she’s scarred for life. It’s not every day you see your son’s dick down a woman’s throat. Hell, I’m scarred for life. Blowjobs between Cliff and I will never be the same, possibly forever tainted by this unfortunate incident.

“I need a word with my son, alone! Aury, go and get cleaned up. I can’t have you looking like a nightwalker and ruining the photos,” his mother barks. I scurry out of the room, more than happy to leave Cliff alone to feel his certifiable stick-up-the-ass mother’s wrath.

I march as quickly as possible across the grass, spotting Imani, laughing hysterically, when I fall into her embrace. Imani gives me a puzzled look. I catch her up on the most mortifying experience of my life; we laugh like a pack of hyenas until Cliff’s youngest sister flounces our way, informing me to grab Cliff because it’s almost time for the gender reveal event. I rush back to the Solarium doors his mother slammed shut when I hurried out of the room. But one of the doors didn’t entirely shut so that I could hear the shouting and tension of their conversation a few feet away.

“When we sent you away to relax, we didn’t mean for you to lose your fucking mind and commit all types of disgraces and debauchery on the good family name. I tried to convince you to make amends with Winnie and take her on the trip with you. That way, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Surely, you don’t love that woman. Honestly, Heathcliff, she’s trash that doesn’t fit into our world,” Cliff’s mother seethes. I freeze awkwardly with my hand around the door handle, holding my breath, dying to hear his response, and hoping to listen to the reciprocity I desperately crave.

Cliff’s hesitation feels like an eternity. Finally, he guffaws, “What? Why would you ask me that? You told me to handle it, and I’m handling the situation.” I feel my shoulders deflate, my heart dropping to my stomach because it wasn’t a yes or no, but it hurt that he didn’t even defend me. Now, he had me curious if he only defended me in my presence to save face. Did Cliff see me as Central Falls thrash, too?

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with that girl and her bastard. Winnie is supposed to be your wife and the mother of your children. It would have been best if you had let me handle it. I’m from a legal dynasty. I was a high-profile defense attorney for years; I could’ve called in favors. No one would’ve been none the wiser had that girl disappeared,” his mother bites out, causing me to tremble protectively, cupping my baby bump.

“I’m not letting you kill Aury because she got pregnant. Definitely not killing my kid. You wanted this to go away silently. As a family, we agreed we didn’t want a bastard to come to find us years later, stirring up scandals and fighting for their place on the throne. Aury is intelligent, so my kid will be, too. I’m sure of it. I chose not to fight her for custody in court and draw media attention. My plan takes time. I didn’t know her. So, I have to get to know her, lure her into a false sense of security, and then find a way to gather evidence so she’ll be seen as an unfit mother and I’ll gain full custody, and she’ll beg for us to pay her to go away. The private investigator couldn’t dig up anything on her. The girl is clean as a whistle. Her moving into my home and developing postpartum or thinking she has it once the baby is born is a solid plan to guarantee me full custody of my child without a nasty court battle. Women are child’s play. She has daddy issues and is self-deprecating. I can easily worm myself into her mind and love bomb my way into full parental rights,” Cliff responds callously.

I’m stunned, my vision blurs, and I turn and walk back toward the party. The Great Gatsby-themed baby shower and gender reveal were quite fitting, hell it was poetic because, as Daisy Buchanan had hoped for her daughter, I had been a beautiful little fool for these rich men that weasel their way into my life. Except the only difference is that my foolishness didn’t keep me from getting hurt.

I had fallen in love with a rich prick pretty boy that was no better than my ex-fiancé. He may even be the greater of the two evils.

I felt more humiliated than anything else. Sometimes, I wonder if I was paying for the sins of being a terrible person in a past life. Or worse, I had the unfortunate luck of paying for the sins of a father that deserted me. I couldn’t ponder too much on the conversation that I overheard between Heathcliff Maali and his demonic fucking mother. You’re next-level evil if you’re willing to murder a pregnant woman to cover all your bases of a potential inconvenience or have the drive to protect your public image by any means necessary. But Heathcliff’s betrayal was fucking God awful. I thought the man at least liked me somewhat, but everything was smoke screens and grander allusions with him.

I am still baffled trying to figure out who the fuck is the real Heathcliff Maali. The Cliff I met in Bali, carefree, laidback, and adventurous, was a completely different person than Heathcliff, the stranger, who wanted to prey on my insecurities, willing to take me to the lowest point possible in my life because only what he wanted mattered. I was a blemish on his perfect life plan that he felt he needed to “handle.”

Per usual, Imani grabs my hand in a death grip as the plane ascends into the air. My best friend is more terrified of flying than anything else. I should have never deviated from our original plan. It would’ve cost me, my child, as collateral damage of learning to always go with my intuition, even if it were at odds with my heart’s desires. When the plane is finally in the cruise phase of the flight, Imani can relax. At least, it’d be only a ninety-minute flight to Toronto, where Imani and I could reinvent our lives. We had lost our company, and nothing was keeping us in Washington.

My biggest regret was missing Heathcliff’s reaction when he realized he’d been out-schemed by Central Falls trash since “women were child’s play.”

I smile to myself, thinking about how I carried on with the ruse that everything was business, as usual, at the gender reveal. I confided in Imani about the conversation I had heard, and we quickly put our plan into action in a matter of a few hours. Heathcliff would be waking up with me gone, but I’d be the least of his problems because the news would break that he may have gotten a girl or two pregnant in high school that conveniently went missing.

Imani had a few reporter friends who were always willing to chase down a lead, and many people were willing to talk for the right price.

The way Mrs. Maali was so comfortable about ending my life made me wonder if she had done it before.

I knew he and his family would relentlessly hunt me down, especially since blue fireworks had shot in the sky only a few hours earlier, letting us know that baby Maali was the favorable sex for most old-money dynasties. My blueberry smurf was a boy, and I’d do everything in my power to protect him from the world's cruelties: especially his father, the cruelest one of them all.

I just had to find a way always to stay one foot ahead of Heathcliff Maali.

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