Bitter Arrangement: Chapter 42

Six Months Later

I jiggle the pick and feel the pins slip into place. As I move through the lock, I adjust the tension rod and slowly manage to get the door open. “You’re mine now,” I mutter victoriously.

The basement steps loom in front of me. At the bottom, an expensive carpet disappears into my private world. I cradle my pregnant belly as I sneak down, going as slowly and quietly as I can, which isn’t very stealthy, if I’m honest. I’m pregnant as hell and about as quiet as an elephant.

My heart’s pattering in my chest. My palms are slick with excitement. I creep down into my oasis, toes curling into the plush, soft carpeting. Gone are the spiders, mostly. Gone is the concrete and the storage space. Instead, everything’s soft and comfortable, lots of pale beige and soft reds, flowers in one corner, a bench against a far wall, a couch and a TV, and a little corner for my crafting supplies. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s all mine.

“I know you’re down here,” I say, eyes darting around. “You do realize you shouldn’t mess with your pregnant wife, right? I’m liable to pop at any moment.”

“You still haven’t found me yet,” his voice says, and I look over toward the utility closet. The water heater and the furnace are hidden away in there.

The door’s open ever so slightly.

Well, shit.

“Are you going to make me come in there?”

“If you want to catch me, you’d better.”

I breathe in deep and blow it out. Then I start grinning like crazy.

We started playing this game a few weeks ago. It’s like hide and seek, except with more filthy sex. We both figure when the baby comes, there won’t be much time or freedom to do weird shit like this, so we might as well have our fun while we can.

I tiptoe over to the door and slowly peer in.

Nothing. Empty.

“What the hell?” I say, surprised.

Then hands grab me from behind.

“Got you,” he says, pulling me against him.

I yelp loudly, and his hand covers my mouth. I struggle, elbowing him in the stomach, but his abs are like iron. He laughs, yanks my hair lightly, and kisses my neck.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I say, slapping his chest. “You shouldn’t do that!”

“Doctor said it was fine.” He grips my hair tighter. “And we both know you like it.”

He’s got a point. I really do like it. He’s a total freak and made sure it was safe to scare me before actually doing it. He’s way too protective and way too open about our sex life for my liking.

But I’ll admit I enjoy the benefits.

He pulls me over to the couch. Even though I’m swollen, he doesn’t seem to give a damn. I melt into his embrace as he kisses me and strips off my top. His mouth finds my pierced nipple and sucks, teasing me with his tongue. Ever since the first trimester ended, my breasts have been twice as sensitive and tender, and he even made me come one time doing nothing but licking my piercing and talking dirty. I moan and enjoy myself because when the baby comes, the bar’s coming out.

“There’s nothing I love more than making you feel good,” he purrs, tugging off my pants. His fingers keep teasing my breasts as his mouth buries itself in my pussy. His tongue licks and sucks, and I arch into him, gasping as bliss hits my core like a hammer. “I swear, the more pregnant you are, the more I want to fuck you into submission.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,” I say, pushing his face tighter. “Now quit talking and lick my pussy.”

“You filthy fucking girl.” He slides two fingers inside and strokes in and out. His tongue licks and flicks up and down my clit. “Sometimes you forget who’s in charge.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“Me, you messy little slut.” He moves up and kisses me. He’s right; I can taste myself on his tongue, and I’m so eager for more I can’t help it. I tug at his pants until they come off, and he slips himself inside me.

I moan as he fills me to the brim.

“Fuck yeah,” I say, reaching my hands above my head as his hips rock and grind into me. “God, that’s good. I love it when you’re inside me.”

“You’re so fucking tight. I need to fill my wife to the brim.”

“Keep going.”

He fucks me, and we grind together, getting into a rhythm. He kisses me, moves down to my nipples, licks them, and sucks them, and that finally does it.

I shatter for my husband. I come so hard I feel like I’m breaking. He keeps going, fucking me harder, until he squeezes my hips as he finishes with deep, rough, shuddering thrusts. He twitches inside me, and when he’s done, he slips behind me on the couch and cuddles up close, his big arms wrapped around my sweaty and flushed body.

“Now that is how to end a game,” I say with a happy sigh.

He laughs and kisses my neck. His fingers stroke my arms. We stay like that and luxuriate in the quiet intimacy of our naked, vulnerable bodies. I never imagined I’d feel this way with a man like him. Big, scary, violent, terrifying. And yet somehow tender and kind, caring and compassionate, at least for me. Everyone else? Better watch the fuck out.

“I was just thinking,” I say, adjusting slightly onto my back. I press a hand to my belly, and he does the same. “Have you come up with any names yet?”

He shrugs a little. “Some. None that I love.”

“I was thinking—” I repeat and try to stifle a smile as a really bad joke occurs to me. “What about naming him Jeremy?”

Alexan stares at me. His eyebrows raise. I can almost see the fight he’s having internally, and it’s so fucking funny. Does he tell his pregnant wife that naming our child after a dead man we both kind of hate is the height of insanity? Or does he somehow pretend like it’s maybe okay but we can keep spitballing some other ideas first?

“Why would we do that?” he asks, which is smart. He’s splitting the difference.

“Well, you know, Jeremy was very important to our story.” I say it as casually as I can, but it’s taking a lot of effort not to break down into laughter. I stroke my belly and make cooing noises. “What do you think, little baby Jeremy? Aw, baby Jeremy⁠—”

“No,” he says, looking horrified. “God, Riley, I love you, but under no circumstances, over my dead fucking body, there’s no goddamn way⁠—”

He stops talking as I finally break. I burst out laughing so hard tears roll down my cheeks. He looks perplexed until he realizes I was messing with him the whole time. Then he just shakes his head and sighs with relief.

“Can you imagine?” I ask, gasping for breath. “We’d be psychotic. How could we ever explain that?”

“You’re a sick, sick woman.”

“You believed me! I should be deeply insulted!”

“I was willing to hear you out.”

“Aw, you’re so kind, but please, seriously, the next time I have an idea like naming our first child after a freak that would’ve happily cut our throats, please tell me I’m a fucking moron.”

“I’ll say it a little nicer than that.” He nuzzles against me. “What about a good Armenian name?”

“I was thinking Irish, since they’re taking Sarkissian as their surname.”

“Seamus Sarkissian?”

“That’s not terrible, actually.”

“Let’s think about it some more.” He grunts and kisses my neck. “You have me all fucked up right now.”

“Good. That’s how I like you.” I turn and kiss him, smiling like my face might forget how one day, and hold him tight.