I knew Caleb kept stealing glances at me the whole night. I would purposely move into his line of vision every time they moved groups of people to socialize with. I knew he was scanning the crowd for me. I just made it easier for him to seeme. I even let him see me flirting with a few of the other guys in the office. I watched as his jaw ticked and knew he was either jealous of what he was seeing, or his wife was pissing him off.
Either way it was a win for me!
Things would have gone much smoother for my sweet Caleb and me, but his bitchy wife just had to go and find out about the photos or messages or whatever! Then she went crying to him, piling on the guilt like it was his problem! But then he started to feel guilty, callingusoff! She even made him call me in front of her so he could prove something to her! She was pathetic, and so obvious.
I knew he didn’t mean it, though. He even admitted to the dull little wife that we’d kissed! He was reminding me that he thought about our kisses. He was setting the stage for us, but I don’t think he’s realized just how much all of this rejection had hurt me. Him denying me, turning his back on me! He broke my heart when he left this morning, going back to that bitch, claiming she wasill! After all the love making we did last night, did he really think I was going to let him go that easily? Did he really think I didn’t have plans in place to keep him by my side?
Why was she better? What did she have that could possibly be better than me?
Poor Caleb. He was such a catch, and a gentleman, that he probably didn’t remember hooking up with me the night that moron, Eric from accounting, posted the picture of the group out for ‘team building’ at the Tipsy Top. The photo he posted was one where we were almost kissing in the background, near the restroom of the bar. That was the last second before I pulled him in with me, locking the door so it was just us. Thankfully you couldn’t really see what we were doing in the photo, unless you were looking for something, or staring at it for a while. That wasa special moment. So special, I saved the photo on my phone, zooming in and using it as my lock screen. It was so perfect, and romantic.
Our first photo together.
That night was the first time we made love. He was so fucking out of it. We’d had a few drinks earlier. And I made sure he’d be more than willing, but I was still worried he would remember something the next day. I was concerned the first few days after, that he might remember something that happened that night and start to feel guilty about it. That he’d run back to her, begging for forgiveness, and love bombing her. If that happened, I would have to work twice as hard to coax him into returning my flirtations. My devotions.
It never did though.
That night, he kept calling me‘baby’and‘my love’, in the women’s bathroom as he fucked me against the wall, over the sink, while he was sitting on the toilet. I was thankful that it didn’t seem to matter how many times we made love that night. He was absolutely insatiable for me, for the heat between us. We were animals that night, going at it again and again, full of raw, primal prowess. There wasn’t a single barrier between us that night, and it was the same way again the night of the Christmas party after I got my hands on his cock.
Literally.
It seemed like the night we spent fucking at the bar helped something along inside his brain. Something seemed to click, and it was the same familiar motions and thrusts. His body remembered mine in a way his mind didn’t understand.
I loved every second of that delicious confusion and pleasure that crossed his face.
I knew the night was going to be a hoot when I saw he couldn’t take his eyes off of me just as I got to the venue. He was standing there, jaw tense as he waited and chatted with other co-workers as he waited for his wife to arrive. I felt the tension from his eyes as they raked up and down my legs that were just barely peeking out of the slit in my dress when I shifted my weight. His eyes weren’t the only thing that bulged, traveling up my body and admiring how full and perky my breasts were. They looked like a champagne glass that was filled to the brim but hadn’t spilled over yet. My tits sat on display for him, looking like absolute perfection.
Now, here we were.
Sunday. The day after the party and I still hadn’t heard anything from him. Not even a text! I told myself it was fine, that it didn’t bother me. I told myself that I would see him at work tomorrow, that I could work my magic then. He’d been ignoring my calls and texts. I had things to discuss with him. Things that would be better shared in person. That thought, the excitement at my news, calmed me. I smiled, the satisfaction rolling through me. My hand brushed lightly across my belly. I let out one of those contented sighs, one of the ones that let me know everything would turn out exactly as I wanted.
I always got what I wanted.
I needed to talk to him, and I would. In time. He could have the rest of the day because come tomorrow…tomorrow, he’s mine. Thinking about the baby, the family we’re building, I felt excitement bubbling inside me, like butterflies in my belly. I knew he’d think it was too soon, too early in our relationship. But it was the perfect time. We would get through this, as strong as we had been since the moment we laid eyes on each other. Thetest I was holding in my fist proved we’d be in each other's lives forat leastthe next eighteen years.
But I knew I could make him fall in love with me. I could keep him forever.
I tried calling him, again, hopeful that he would pick up this time. I was always hopeful, each time, and each time only to be let down when he didn’t. I couldn’t understand why there was still no change, still no answer. I tapped my perfectly manicured nails against my chin, trying to think of a way to get him to talk to me. A sweet idea occurred to me. I smiled, so happy at the thought.
I took a picture of me holding the pregnancy test, smiling, and sent it to him with a sweet little message.
“See you soon, Daddy”.
Then, for shits and giggles, I sent the same picture to his wife’s Instagram account with the pleading message, “Please don’t break up our family!”
Then I powered off my phone. He wanted to play? He didn’t even know I wrote the rules for the game.
Two could play at that, asshole.
Chapter Sixteen:
Devin’s POV
I woke up from the best night's sleep I had in…too long to remember. I stretched, hearing soft jazz music playing and knew that Emilia was up and getting her groove on. I rolled over and grabbed my phone, surprised to see a message waiting for me on my social media. I took a deep breath, because I knew the sender’s name. Still, I wanted to know what she had the audacity to say to me. I opened the message and BAM! The sight of a pregnancy test slapped me still. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it was next to the smiling face ofBecky the Bitch,as I was now calling her. The text that came with the photo was what really made me lose my appetite.
She was claiming that the disgusting cheater who was my soon-to-be ex-husband, was the father. It was like I was frozen, completely solid. I wasn’t sure how long I sat like that, staring blankly at the screen. It felt like something switched off after I saw that photo. It felt like it took a while, but the tingle and burn in my nose, the blurring in my eyes. Tears had started falling before I knew what was happening. I sat with my head down, eyes locked on that phone well after my phone went dark.
He’s been fucking her long enough to get pregnant.
