Chapter 16: The Baby Shower
The baby shower was a minefield of pastel colors and well-meaning noise. Pink and blue streamers coiled around the living room beams, and a mountain of wrapped gifts threatened to avalanche from the dining table. Josh stood near the hallway, a paper plate of store-bought quiche sweating in his hand. He watched Millie, radiant in a sunflower-print maternity dress, laughing as her mother fussed over the knitted booties.Her belly was a perfect, round globe beneath the fabric. Every time she smiled, a shard of ice lodged itself a little deeper in his chest.
Across the room, Caitlin held court. She wore a sleek, black dress that clung to her own significant swell, a deliberate contrast to the pastel sea. She was gesturing animatedly, telling some story that had her small audience captivated.Her eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the room and locked onto his. A flicker of a smile, intimate and predatory, touched her lips before she turned back to her admirers.The shower wound down. Aunts and coworkers left in flurries of hugs and last-minute advice. Millie’s energy, so vibrant an hour ago, had faded into a wan, contented exhaustion. “I’m just going to sit for a minute,” she said, lowering herself onto the sofa with a soft grunt. She began the laborious process of unlacing her shoes.“Josh, sweetie, could you help Caitlin with the leftover favor boxes? They need to go up to her spare room.”
Caitlin was already there, stacking small, ribbon-tied boxes filled with sugared almonds. “I’ve got them,” she said, her voice light. “But an extra pair of hands would be great.”
He had no good reason to refuse.His body moved on autopilot. He followed her out of the living room, down the hall of the townhouse he knew too well. The air here was different, cooler, smelling of her vanilla candle and something else beneath it. Her heels clicked on the hardwood, a steady, metronome beat counting down to something inevitable.Her bedroom door was open. Inside, the soft glow of string lights illuminated the velvet headboard. He saw the framed photos on her dresser from across the years: Caitlin and Millie in college, Caitlin and Josh at a barbecue, his arm slung loosely around her shoulders, her smile a fraction too knowing.A museum of his own poor judgment.
“Just set them in the corner,” she said, placing her stack down. He did the same, turning immediately to leave.Her hand shot out, fingers cool around his wrist.
The door clicked shut behind him.The noise from the living room became a distant, muffled hum.
She turned to face him, her back against the dark wood.The swell of her pregnancy pressed against his abdomen. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” she whispered. Her perfume was the same, the scent that haunted his nightmares. Her other hand came up, palm flat against his chest before sliding down, over the tense plane of his stomach, to cup the growing hardness through his jeans. He hadn’t even been fully aware of his body’s response, a betrayal so complete it stole his breath.
He tried to shift back, but there was nowhere to go. “Caitlin, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Her fingers worked the button of his jeans, the pop of it loud in the quiet room.“You’re already hard for me. Your prick doesn’t lie.” The zipper hissed down. She slipped her hand inside, her cool fingers wrapping around his cock.He gasped, a sharp, unwilling intake of air. She stroked him once, twice, her thumb smearing the bead of wetness already gathering at the tip. “See?”
She leaned in and kissed him.It wasn’t gentle. Her tongue pushed past his lips, claiming his mouth with the same possessiveness as her hand claimed his dick. The taste of her, mint and something darker, flooded his senses. His hands came up, not to push her away, but to grip her hips, the firm curve of her ass pulling her harder against him. A groan rattled in his throat.She broke the kiss, breathing heavily. With practiced ease, she pushed his jeans and boxers down past his thighs, freeing his erection.It stood thick and flushed, straining upward. Without a word, she guided him backwards until his knees hit the edge of her bed and he sat down heavily.
She sank to her knees on the plush rug. For a moment, she just looked at him, her blue eyes wide and hungry, before she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. Her lips stretched taut around his girth, enveloping him in wet, slick heat. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease. She took him deep, until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.He swore, his fingers tangling in her long blonde hair.
She sucked him slowly, torturously, her tongue a relentless, swirling pressure on the most sensitive part of his shaft. One hand worked the base of his cock in time with her bobs, the other fondled his balls, rolling them in her palm.The dual sensation was overwhelming. His hips gave a small, involuntary thrust.She moaned around him, the vibration making his toes curl.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back.She pulled off with a lewd, wet sound. A string of saliva connected her lips to his glistening cock. She stood up, her movements fluid despite her belly. She reached down, gathered the hem of her black maternity dress, and pulled it up over her hips.She wasn’t wearing panties. Her skin was pale, the thatch of blonde hair neat and trimmed.She was already wet, glistening.
She lay back on the bed, propped on her elbows.“Fuck me,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Slow. And don’t you dare make a sound.”
He moved like a man in a trance.He positioned himself between her spread legs, the tip of his cock nudging her entrance. He pushed in with a single, smooth, deep thrust. They both let out a sharp, stifled moan.She was tight, impossibly so, and soaked. Her internal muscles fluttered around him, a greedy, pulsing grip.
He began to move, his hips rocking against hers in a slow, deep rhythm.Each withdrawal was agonizing, each thrust back in a relief. The bedsprings gave a faint, rhythmic creak beneath them. He leaned down, one hand braced beside her head, the other covering her mouth just in case. Her eyes were locked on his, wide and blazing with triumph.
He could feel the press of her belly against his lower abdomen, a solid, undeniable reminder of the consequence of this. It should have sickened him, should have made him soft.It did the opposite.A perverse, dark heat flooded him.This was his. All of this chaos was his doing. The power of it, twisted and terrible, surged through his veins.“You feel so fucking good,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing against hers. His pace remained measured, deep, each stroke a deliberate claiming.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him impossibly deeper. Her breathing grew ragged against his palm. He felt her begin to tremble, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his driving cock.“Yeah,” she hissed, the word muffled by his hand.“Right there. Don’t stop.”
Her climax built like a wave, tensing her whole body. She arched beneath him, a silent scream against his skin, and then she was coming, her cunt milking him in intense, rhythmic spasms. The sight of her, her face contorted in ecstasy, her pregnant body shaking with release, broke the last of his control.
He fucked her harder then, his slow rhythm shattering into a few desperate, frantic thrusts. The slap of his balls against her skin was a damp, obscene percussion. With a choked grunt, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his orgasm tearing through him like a punishment. He spilled into her, pulse after pulse, his hips grinding helplessly against hers as he rode out the last of it.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant, happy murmur of Millie’s voice from the other room.He pulled out slowly. The sight of his own semen leaking from her onto the bedspread made his stomach turn. He tucked his softening cock away, zipped his jeans with clumsy fingers. She lay there for a beat, a satisfied, feline smile on her lips, before she smoothed her dress back down.He turned to go, his legs unsteady.
“Josh.” Her voice stopped him at the door.He didn’t turn around. “The doctor says everything’s perfect.Strong heartbeat. Just like Millie’s.” She let the comparison hang.“We’ll need to discuss… logistics. Soon.”
He walked out, closing the door softly behind him. In the hallway mirror, he saw his own reflection: hair mussed, lips swollen, a faint smear of her lipstick at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with a trembling thumb.He returned to the living room. Millie was asleep on the sofa, a half-finished glass of water on her belly.She looked peaceful.Pure.
He stood over her, the ghost of Caitlin’s cunt still on his skin, the smell of her in his nose. The two heartbeats, one here, one rooms away, seemed to sync into a single, hammering judgment inside his own skull.He had nowhere left to hide. The boxes were all carried, the secrets all stacked in dark rooms, waiting.