Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,4

control.

The more my fingers swirled around her clit, the louder her moans grew. I was close to exploding in my pants, so my fingers made quick work of losing my trousers and drawers while making her cum. And fuck, if she didn’t cum and cum. That was one thing that I loved about her, she was so gotdamn sensitive and responsive.

Turning her over so her back was on the bed, I hovered over her. “I’m clean, and you’re already pregnant.”

Those fiery eyes stayed on me, then she said, “Use a condom.”

“Are you clean?” I found myself pausing as I processed her words.

“Yes, I’m clean,” she snapped. “However, I don’t know who the fuck you’ve been fucking over in London—or here, for that matter.”

“Since you, nobody,” I admitted before I could censor myself.

Quite frankly, it was odd for this to be a fact. I literally had a black book. It was old school, but my uncles used to have them. There were many aunties in and out of their life. I only liked a few of them, but since my father had passed away early, they were my example. Now, we just called them fuck buddies.

Sheryl, though, wasn’t really that. She was more of a conquest or a prize of some sort. Well, I definitely felt like she regarded me in that way. Which was fine, but this baby business. That was the thing throwing me for a loop.

I was a forty-seven-year-old man, and I wanted kids, but I had no real idea of when I wanted them. Approaching fifty should have been a bloody clue, but I was too busy trying to build my empire. My educational software company had a social-emotional component before it became popular. Therefore, schools and districts across the world were utilizing the efforts of my expanded product for students at all levels. It started with my senior colloquium course, where I created a student information system. This expanded to curriculum, social emotional learning, and every major content in various languages.

This woman being pregnant with my offspring was a paradigm shift, and we needed to talk. But first, we needed to relieve the stress we’d both been under.

“I’m clean,” I repeated and slid inside of her snug heat. “Fuckkkk!”

She had me groaning and pausing to collect my sanity. I swear on everything her cunt was a fucking trap that sucked me into her and squeezed the bloody life out of me. It fit like a glove that was made just for me.

Yes, we needed that. In her eyes, I could see that she had the same emotions. The air that was forced from her lungs when I pushed in was a release and a much-needed one.

Once we were both adjusted, I began to push in and out of her hot pussy. With her brown pearl winking at me, I began to rub it, causing the woman to writhe under me.

“Oh, Jacquez,” she moaned. “Ummmm, right there.”

Flicking her clit faster, I began to ride her like a runaway cart, disconnected from the train. There was no stopping me, and even with her cries and cumming around my cock, I kept going, causing her to cum again and again. She grabbed her round breast and squeezed so only the nipples were showing, and I fucking lost it. My movements became erratic, and my fingers dug into her hips as I fucked her into the mattress.

Hard.

I didn’t release until those nails of hers began to claw down my back as I emptied a heavy load into that hot cunt of hers with a curse under my breath.

My body was wired, and I couldn’t really talk to even describe what had just happened or my thoughts. Therefore, I just lay down next to her, pulling her into my chest. At first she was stiff, then she began to relax as I rubbed my hand up and down her arm.

“Now let’s talk,” I said through a sigh after five minutes of silence.

A few more moments passed, and the next words out of her mouth took my breath away.

“I had a miscarriage,” she whispered into the chilly air-conditioned room.

There was nothing else that she said, but the reality made the room and my sweat-covered body colder.

“Are you all right?” I finally asked.

“No,” she answered after a beat. “I’m not.”

Some things began to click for me in that moment of honesty between us. This wasn’t banter, she wasn’t a conquest, but a woman who was pregnant—and then the creation had been snatched from