The Not So Secret BabyBy: Amarinda Jones
“I’m pregnant.” Those were the last words Izzy Mack ever expected to say. She turned to her friend and waited for the response.
“Holy fucking hell!” Cilla Brown’s eyes were opened wide in astonishment.
Yeah, that about summed up Izzy’s own reaction when she first read the home pregnancy test. It was only when her doctor confirmed it that she had been lost for words. Izzy pushed the shoulder length brown hair from her neck. It was hot and sticky in Cairns. Long hair and humidity didn’t mix in the tropics.
“I just don’t understand how it happened.”
Cilla raised her brows. “Well, it takes a man and a woman who are horny and—”
“I mean I’m on the pill. He used a condom.” Unexpected pregnancies happened on soap operas and in terrible millionaire-Arab-sheik-seduces-the-wholesome-virgin-nurse romance books.
“Nothing is foolproof, Iz. Condoms tear and the pill isn’t always magical in its ability to stop the body doing what it’s programmed to do.”
“I know but…”
“Yeah, you never think it will happen to you.”
But it did. Izzy, at thirty-two years of age, was preggers, up the duff, and had the proverbial bun in the oven. She thought back to the man and the moment. That was easy to do. There had been no other lovers in her life since that night five weeks ago. In fact, none for months before that. Izzy had gone cold turkey on men. While she enjoyed sex, she wanted more. And then Izzy met him.
“He said he was a prince.”
“They all do, honey, when they want sex,” quipped Cilla.
“Yeah, I know but still there was something—”
“Princely about him? Did he have a black credit card?”
“Huh?” Izzy wondered what tangent Cilla was taking.
Her friend waved her hands in the air. “Oh you know. When Prince Fredrick of Denmark met Aussie girl Mary Donaldson he pulled out a black credit card and everyone knew he was a prince.”
“That wasn’t what he pulled out that caught my attention.” Izzy’s mind went back to that night five weeks ago. She had just finished work at the restaurant where she waitressed when she ran into—literally—a tall, blond man as she dashed out to catch a taxi. Izzy had grabbed hold of him for support as her weak ankle buckled under her and she started to fall. Strong arms had wrapped around her waist to steady her.
Five weeks ago
The strong Irish lilt made her catch her breath and look up at the man who held her.
“Um…” Her eyes roamed over the chiseled features. He wasn’t classically handsome. His jaw line was too strong, his nose crooked as if broken one too many time, and the scar that ran from his nose to his right upper lip made him look dangerous yet sexy. This was a man who had lived life. “I, er…” Normally Izzy was confident and articulate. Normally she wouldn’t have lifted her arms so her hands could rest on his shoulders while her fingers moved to touch the softly tangled blond hair that was caught up in a leather cord. But this wasn’t a normal moment or man.
“Are you okay?” He looked at her in amusement.
“Oh yeah.” Izzy hadn’t been held against a strong, male body in months. Her fingers threaded through the ends of his hair.
“It’s sexy.” Izzy liked men. She liked sex. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. There was nothing better than a male body stretched out over hers as his dick surged up inside her.
“’Wanna feel it brush against your skin as I take you from behind?”
If any other man had said that, she would have considered it a sleazy pick up line, but the soft Irish lilt made her shiver at the sexiness of his tone. “If I said yes, would you think me a slut?”
“I would only think myself very lucky.”
There were so many reasons not to say yes. He was a stranger. She was tired. From her experience, one-night stands never ended well. Izzy looked into his dark brown eyes and was caught and held. It was a moment every woman recognized as being something she couldn’t walk away from. Yes, it was about heat and lust, but there was something else there. Something about the Irishman called to her. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” His voice was husky and low.
“Take me from behind.” Izzy wanted to feel the heat of the blond stranger surging up inside her.
His hand curled around her. “My name is Sinyn.”
“Take me, Sinyn.”
Izzy shrieked as he removed his dick from her cunt and pushed the wet, bulbous tip into her anus. She gripped the hotel sheet beneath her and arched her back to give him access. If anyone heard her cries, she cared little. This was all about giving in to need and letting go.