Hung (10 page)

And with that, not waiting for my response, he confidently moved forward, planting his mouth on mine. I did what came naturally – I succumbed to his kiss. Every rational thought, every possible cause for concern, left my brain and I realized that I only wanted one thing – Clay. And for whatever crazy reason, he wanted me too.

Experimentally, I tried moving one of my hands. I wanted to cradle his beautiful face between my fingers and pull him in. I wanted to run the back of my hand across the very first shoots of his stubble. I wanted to entangle my hands in his hair and entwine it so that I could never let go.

He released me without question, swiftly moving his hands to my thick, plump breasts that were pushed together under the white butterfly-patterned lace. I held his face, held it next to mine and kissed him like I'd never get the chance again. But I would. Clay was mine, and he was mine forever.

"Now, Clay," I whispered, drinking in his cold blue eyes that warmed only for me, "now."

It was all I needed to say, and Clay couldn't hold himself back any longer. He kicked off his pants, which by now were hanging by his ankles, and they fell somewhere out of sight. He managed to prise his hands away from my breasts for what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a second, and ripped off his slim white shirt. The buttons fell on my chocolate skin like hail, and he brushed them off me tenderly. Then he was naked, his cock perpendicular and standing at attention. On either side, veins popped as they poured blood into the hard tissue, and I eyed him hungrily.

He looked me up and down, drinking in the tight white lace bodysuit that he'd so cunningly had me wear. I knew he didn't want to take it off, knew that if he had his way, he'd have me in it forever, but equally I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to toss it aside. It was fastened by a length of silk ribbon which was laced from side to side in a complex geometric pattern, and I watched in fascination as he gently touched his hands to the bow and pulled it loose, then wound it free of the lace prison that held it. He took his time, never hurrying, much as I wanted him to. I felt like I couldn't break his concentration, so I just watched and waited, all the while feeling the sexual tension build within me like a rain-swept dam ready to burst.

And then it was loose, my huge breasts spilling out, their puffy nipples begging for someone to suckle on them.

Clay lowered his head to my right breast and took the nipple in it tenderly, rolling around his tongue. A spark of pure electricity shot to the slit between my legs, and I couldn't help but move my hand to meet it. I rubbed my clit hard, riding my fingers as Clay took his time with my breasts. He pulled the white lace bodysuit off me slowly, forced me to wait, and pulled my hands away from where they were furiously sending me to the brink. He kissed me, bit down on my lip – and entered me.

I gasped, whispered his name, and let my eyes roll back into my head. He cupped the back of my neck softly, his thick bicep bulging, and pulled himself inside me, thrusting in and out with long, tender strokes.

"Alicia,
Liss
, I want you, no – I need you to know something," he whispered, not stopping the long, hard strokes with his hips.

I could barely talk, barely even function, but I choked out a reply. "Tell me, Clay," I begged. I'd never felt closer to him, never felt so close to anyone before than I did to him in that moment.

"I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you, Liss. No, scratch that," he said – and my heart sank, making me aware for the first time of how much I wanted him to say it, "I do – I do love you."

The sheer, brutal, unadulterated honesty of his statement was written on his face.

I replied in the only way I knew how.

"Come in me, Clay…"

He looked at me with a delighted but questioning stare. "Please…" I whispered. I knew there was no chance of my request ever resulting in a baby, knew that because of my infertility, I'd never be able to have a baby – the true purpose of the act of lovemaking, and the thought almost threatened to rip my heart in half. But this was the closest I could come to experiencing that joy, and I needed it now more than I ever had.

"Please…"

I didn't need to ask him again. He didn't change the pace, nor the speed of his long, industrious thrusts between my legs, but he did alter the power and the desperation with which he made them. I felt his huge cock stretching me, almost splitting me, and bottoming out. I felt stars begin to build behind my eyes, and where my fingers were intertwined with his hair, I dug my nails into his scalp. He panted, kissed me, pushing his face into my mouth, and groaned.

I felt it before he did, the subtle contraction of his pelvic floor as he prepared to come inside me. He looked to me one last time for approval, and I nodded and clenched my pussy hard, locking his cock in a vice-like grip as I bit down on his shoulder and my orgasm crashed into me like waves in a storm.

Clay gasped, panted, and then, finally, I felt the heat grow between my thighs. From somewhere, even through the delirious waves of my orgasm, I felt a moment of brilliant clarity.

"I love you too, Clay…"

I
knew I loved Alicia
, maybe had from the moment I first saw her, but I wasn't so blinded by love that I was unable to notice that there was something
off
about her. It wasn't a weirdness – as far as I was concerned, she was perfect, but Alicia undeniably carried a sadness about her that was unmistakable, at least once you got to know her.

I felt that declaring my love for her definitely counted as getting to know her. I wanted to know why she sometimes felt and acted older than her years, and definitely much older than her tight, youthful looks.

I woke with Alicia’s limbs twined around my body, and felt refreshed – it was the best night's sleep I'd had in years. Alicia had a calmness about her that was catching – but I needed to get to the bottom of why she carried herself at a distance, and why she didn't seem to want to let anyone in.

I thought I had the answer – or at least a clue.

I knew I shouldn't have pried, but I'd followed the sound of her singing while she unpacked on her first day living with me, and I couldn't help but join her in the Jack and Jill bathroom. I snuck in quietly, hoping to surprise her and join in with her song, but just as I entered, she left in a hurry, her door swinging closed behind her with a clatter.

I'd shrugged, muttered to myself about crazy women, and almost thought nothing more of it when I noticed she'd left the right-hand closet door open. Seeing women's beauty products in there was a novelty – I'd had many women stay at the mansion, but very few had ever lasted long enough for me to even consider offering them space in my bathroom. I leafed through, picking out makeup bottles at random – but nothing was particularly exciting.

I was just about to close the door when something caught my eye – four small, neatly stacked boxes of a drug called Clomid. I didn't know why the name had suddenly sprung to my mind, but it had apparently lodged there, waiting to spring out when I needed it. And after an evening of sexual bliss, followed by a night of the best sleep I'd had in forever, my brain decided to fixate on the little pills.

Whatever they are, maybe they'll explain why she carries herself like she does?
I thought. And I knew I had to find out what exactly they did.

I gently, quietly extricated myself from Alicia's vice-like sleeping grip on my body and crept out of the bedroom, only stopping to pick up a silk Japanese bathrobe from the back of my bedroom door. Even I would admit, the thing looked pretty feminine, but it was comfy – and I liked it. Anyway, one of the perks of being an internationally renowned pop star was that, more or less, I got to do what I liked. And I liked wearing my girly Japanese bathrobe.

I found my MacBook lying on one of the many couches that littered the first floor of the mansion and fired it up. No sooner had the black screen given way to light, than I saw an open web page with the Google search bar ready for my query. The only thing missing from the scene, I thought to myself chuckling, was a blinking cursor.

I typed in ‘C-l-o’, and the search bar began populating with suggestions. The second on the list was the one I was looking for – Clomid. I clicked. As soon as the results flashed up, I regretted my decision. I realized that I'd made a terrible mistake – I was prying into matters that I had no right to know about, and I didn't know if Alicia would be able to forgive me. And yet, with a terrible, sick fascination, I couldn't stop myself reading on.

"Clomid (Clomiphene Citrate) is a leading anti-infertility drug, currently available in more than one hundred and fifty countries under several brand names. The drug activates several hormonal pathways and stimulates the production of—"

"Hey sexy," I heard Alicia say from just a few feet away, "what are you looking at? I woke up and you were gone." I looked at her guiltily, slamming the lid of the laptop closed like a teen caught looking at porn.

"Nothing," I half-squeaked, half-croaked back. She looked at me with lidded eyes and padded over. "I don't believe you." She grinned, leaning forward and grabbing the laptop. I felt powerless to stop her, a deer caught in the headlights. I was watching a car crash happen in slow motion, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "I can't believe that you're down here looking at porn after last night. Are you addicted to sex or something?"

She flicked the lid up, and I saw her face fall.

Alicia looked up at me, her face full not of recrimination as I'd expected, but regret.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, looking as though her stomach was contorting with pain. "I promise—" she gulped. "I promise you I wasn't trying to trap you with a kid; it's nothing like that…"

What the hell is she talking about? Why is she apologizing to me? I'm the one who's fucked up!

For once in my life, I knew that I had to take responsibility for what I'd done. This was an easy out – even if I didn't understand why she was so broken up, I could have accepted her apology and moved on like I always did. But for once my life, I cared about the girl in front of me and I knew I couldn't.

"Liss," I began, using the nickname I'd coined for her the previous night, "why the hell are
you
apologizing to
me
?"

She gave me a funny look. "How much did you read?" she asked breathlessly, as though she was fighting off tears. By looking at her, I could tell she was.

"Not much," I admitted. "I'm not the quickest reader…"

"I'll explain it for you. There's not a lot I don't know, trust me on that." The pained, beaten down look on Alicia's face left me in no doubt that that was the case.

"Sure…" I agreed, still completely confused. There was one thing I knew, though, I wasn't just going to shirk responsibility for what I'd been doing. This was one thing I was going to own up to.

"Clomid," Alicia said tonelessly, "is an anti-infertility drug that stimulates the production of eggs in the ovaries."

Infertility?

"You use it for about six months, and you get one shot. If you don't conceive, then that's it, you're done. I'm in month five." She said it with a broken, defeated air on her face – the look of a woman who wanted nothing more than to have a child, but whose own body was betraying her.

I finally, completely, understood why she carried such an air of sadness around with her. Hell, if she'd just retreated into a bedroom and locked herself away to grieve, I'd have understood it. Alicia, my Alicia – if she still was, was a hell of a woman, I thought, and this revelation only increased my respect for her. After all, she was out there every day working to build a better future for herself, when many others would simply have given up.

"Is it working?" I asked, knowing the answer before I'd even asked the question.

She sat down next to me. "No," she admitted. "I've been going to the sperm bank since the second month of the course. Nothing. I've got the next two months, and then one last month following the course of drugs, but once that's over, then I'm done."

She said it with such a sense of finality that my heart broke with hers. But I had the smallest inkling of an idea.

"The sperm bank?" I asked. "Why not a guy?"

She looked at me like I was stupid, and I realized that I kinda was. "How many guys do you think are going to jump into bed with me when I tell them on the first date that I'm looking for a kid – and no, they don't have time to get to know me, because I need it now…"

"Not many," I said slowly. "Isn't that expensive?"

"Why do you think I live in a tiny apartment, Clay? I've sold everything I had for sperm. God, I'm like a crackwhore – but it's the other way round! Would you believe that they charge more for the good stuff? I've paid the extra, though a fat lot of good it's done…"

"But, Clay, seriously," she continued, "I need you to know that I'm taking those drugs because medically, I'm infertile. I'm not trying to make you my baby daddy, and even if I was, I'm pretty sure I can't get pregnant anyway."

I reached over, grabbing one of her hands and squeezing it. "Liss, you've got nothing to apologize for. I was being nosy; I was snooping while you were sleeping – it's me who should be apologizing to you, not the other way around."

She looked at me. "Clay, with something like this, you had a right to look." Again, she said so sadly that I wanted to hug her and make all her problems go away. But for this, I didn't have a magic wand – only an idea.

"Liss, what if there was another way?"

"To do what?" she asked, cocking her head.

"To avoid paying for sperm."

"I'd grab at it with both hands," she replied with a rueful grin, "but there isn't – trust me, I've looked. And I can't let you come inside me; the first time was a mistake."

"No," I said, fixing her with the most serious look I could manage, "trust
me
, it wasn't. That's exactly what I'm proposing – you let me come in you." I grinned. "Believe me, this hose isn't running out of juice any time soon. Look at me; where you going to get better genetic material than this? And I don't charge…"

"Clay, you can't offer that," Alicia replied. "You're not ready to be a father. You know what it means, having another life relying on you?"

Her honest reply crushed me, but in my heart of hearts, I knew what she was saying was true. I
wasn't
ready to be a father – or at least, I hadn't been. I'd been a playboy, an alcoholic, a philanderer – in short, I was unreliable. But Alicia had to know that I was changing, and it was all for her.

But she was right. After all, how could she trust me? How could I make her understand that I'd changed?

"Trust me, Liss – I want this. I want to do this for you. I'll give you anything, everything," I said.

God, what is this? I can't believe how much I’ve changed in such a short time. Am I actually begging to get a girl pregnant?

Her reply was simple, honest, and brutal.

"I love you, Clay – but I couldn't have you in my child's life."