New Year’s Eve
At quarter past two, Sabrina appears at the entrance of the club. Her brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she’s thrown a long coat over her skimpy waitressing uniform. An older lady exits behind her. The two exchange words, pausing under the dimly lit entrance.
My heart starts thumping erratically. I didn’t get to kiss her tonight at midnight to ring in the New Year, but I plan on kissing her all night long to make up for that. I missed her like crazy down in Texas, and even though my mom worked me like a dog, Sabrina wasn’t far from my mind.
I fixed the railing on the porch, helped Mom repot some of the perennials she was keeping in the garage, changed five light bulbs, the batteries on all the smoke detectors, cleaned out her furnace, and ran errands from the moment I got up until the moment I lay down. I’d also met with Mr. #1 Realtor and made all the right noises, but as hard as I tried to envision Sabrina in Patterson, the image never came into focus.
“Hey, handsome,” she greets me. “I didn’t know you were coming here. I thought I was meeting up with you tomorrow.”
“Couldn’t wait,” I say truthfully. “Happy New Year, darlin’.”
“Happy New Year, Tuck.”
I gather her up against me and bury my face in her exposed neck. She quivers in response to the light caress, and the half-hard cock in my pants rises to full mast.
Reluctantly, I set her aside and pull open the car door. “We better get going or all my good intentions are going into the shitter.”
“I thought your good intentions were to fuck me into tomorrow,” she teases, referencing one of the texts I managed to shoot off to her in between the chores my mom thought up.
I nearly tackle Sabrina to the ground, but despite her light words, I can see exhaustion in every line of her gorgeous face.
Instead, I nod toward the others trudging toward their cars. “Why give these folks a free show?”
“Good point.” She twirls the key ring around her finger. “Slight problem. My stepfather is home and I don’t know if we want a repeat of that last scene.”
I can’t imagine why. The fucking perverted bastard needs a fist in his face and a boot up his ass, but I don’t want to bring him into the equation. I’ve got a whole series of events planned out and they don’t include spending a second on that dickhole.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your stepdad,” I admit, “but I figured since it’s the holidays and I didn’t get you a present, that we’d do something different. Why don’t you get in?”
She swings her keys around again and then tosses them over to me. “You drive. I’m tired.”
I catch them easily and unlock the doors. Reaching in, I push the seat back so I’m not driving with my knees around my neck.
Sabrina climbs into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Downtown.”
“Oooh, sounds like a mystery. I like mysteries.”
And I’d like to eat you up. I stare at her mouth for way too long before giving myself a mental head slap and putting the car in drive.
“How was everything? You feeling better?”
“I’m okay. It comes and goes. Nana is better, though, so I figure I just need to sweat it out a few more days and I’ll have worked the bug out of my system.”
I stretch my arm across the car and slip my hand behind her head. It’s been a long time since I’ve touched her, and I need this small connection.
“You want me to take you to a doctor?” I offer.
“Do I look that terrible?”
“No, you’re gorgeous, but you said you’ve been sick,” and you feel fragile—like brittle glass—under my hand, “And I want to take care of you.”
“No, I don’t want to go to a doctor.”
“Is it the cash? Because if you don’t want me to cover it, we could go to Hastings to the campus clinic.”
She shakes her head, a slow roll back and forth on my palm. I slide my grip lower to massage her neck, and she moans. The sound goes straight to my neglected cock.
“I’ve got insurance. I just need to rest,” she insists. “And it’s Sunday tomorrow, which means I get to spend the whole day bumming around and doing nothing.”
I decide not to push the issue. “What a coincidence. That’s my plan.”
This time when our eyes meet, her gaze is as hot as mine. I punch the gas a little harder than I intend to.
“A hotel?” she squawks when I pull up in front of the Fairmont ten minutes later.
I grin. “Merry belated Christmas.”
The valet reaches her side and opens the door. I hop out and round the front bumper, thanking him as I throw him the keys. This is all costing me a pretty penny, but I don’t care. Nor do I care that the doorman is smirking at Sabrina’s outfit and our car. He probably thinks I’m going to get ripped off by bringing a hooker back to my room.
“Your present is at my house,” she says mournfully as I join her on the sidewalk.
Draping an arm around her back, I gently push her forward. “You can give it to me tomorrow during our bumming-around time.”
“Deal.”
I lead her directly to the elevators and then stare at the digital display so I don’t attack her in the lobby of this swanky hotel.
“I’m pretty sure everyone here thinks I’m a prostitute,” she says dryly.
“If they do, it’s because that’s the only way someone as hot as you is allowing me to put my grubby mitts all over your body.”
“Bullshit, but that’s a nice compliment.”
“I’d kiss you right now, but since I haven’t seen you in ten days, I’d probably lose control and try to hump you in the lobby.”
“I can wait.” She stares pointedly at the bulge in my jeans. “Although, from the outline of your monster, my guess is that no one would be surprised.”
The dinging of the elevator doors covers my growl, but judging by the smirk that spreads across Sabrina’s face, I can tell she hears it.
We get off on the fourth floor. I barely make it inside the room before I have her pressed up against the door, my tongue inside her mouth, my hands pushing open her coat to grope her tits.
She moans, but it’s not a cry of passion.
Instantly, I drop my hands. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She quickly draws me back against her. “My boobs are extra sensitive for some reason.”
I run my hands down her sides. “Then I’ll be extra tender tonight.” I allow her to tug me in for another kiss before backing off. Reaching down, I adjust myself. “Give me a minute, darlin’. I didn’t plan to attack you the minute I saw you, but, hell, you know you drive me crazy.”
“Same.” She swipes a palm across her forehead, and her hand looks mighty shaky to me.
I wonder if part of it’s from hunger. “Why don’t you sit down?” I gesture toward the little couch against the wall.
Sabrina nods and walks farther into the room. Meanwhile, I press the heel of my hand against my cock and order myself to act like I’ve had sex before.
“How much did this cost?” She collapses on the loveseat and looks around in dismay.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her. “The guy who owns this joint is a Briar alum. He gives us a special rate. Don’t tell the NCAA.”
“Is that even a violation?”
“Don’t know. I’m operating under the don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”
“Gotcha.” She slips off her shoes and folds her coat over the arm of the couch, leaving her wearing only her tiny shorts and the bra.
God, she’s the hottest thing on the planet.
“What’s that?” she asks, her gaze landing on the gift-wrapped box sitting on the center of the bed.
“Your present.” I had checked in earlier and left her gift in the room. Reaching out, I swipe the package off the bedspread and join her on the sofa. “Happy holidays.”
Her face lights up as she takes the box from me. I lean back and watch. I can’t wait to see her face when she opens it.
“What is this?” she asks warily. “It feels expensive.”
I snicker. “You can tell whether it’s expensive or not based on how much it weighs?”
“Of course. The heavier it is, the more it costs.” She bites her lip. “I hope you didn’t spend a fortune on me.”
“I promise you I didn’t.” I’m lying. It’s definitely more money than I’ve ever spent on a girl before, but I couldn’t resist.
One of Mom’s clients makes custom leather goods and sells them online, and she let me buy Sabrina’s gift at cost because there was a flaw in the leather. The defect is on the inside, but apparently for the prices she charges, even that requires a discount. I was thrilled to buy it. My mom? Not so much. She felt it was too expensive to buy for a girl I barely know, but this had Sabrina stamped all over it.
Beside me, she rips open the paper and then lifts off the lid. When the rich smell of leather wafts up, her mouth forms a perfect circle of surprise.
“What did you get?” she asks, but it’s not a question I’m required to answer. Her hands rip away the tissue paper to reveal the burnished leather and brass buckles of a briefcase.
“Oh my God, this is so gorgeous!”
I don’t have to ask if she loves it. It’s in every gasp and loving caress of the leather. Oh yeah, nailed it.
“Did I do okay?” I smile as I watch her lift every flap and unzip every zipper. She examines it, flipping it over and over. She even stands up to pose with it.
“You did amazing.” She finally sets the bag to the side and launches herself at me. “Amazing,” she repeats, punctuating that word with a kiss. “Now it’s my turn to give you a present.”
Licking her lips, she proceeds to move down my body and unzip my jeans.
My dick jumps out like it’s on a spring. She circles me with her hand and then gives me the dirtiest, most devilish grin before swallowing me to the back of her throat.
Holy shit, that’s good. I cup her head as she blows me, admiring the way her ass juts in the air as she bends forward to take more of me in her mouth. I reach over and slide my hand underneath the satin of her shorts until my fingers meet her soaked pussy.
And suddenly her mouth on my cock isn’t enough. I’ve got to be inside her.
I lift her up and in three strides have her down on the bed. She claws at my clothes. I tear at hers. We’re hasty, somewhat uncoordinated, and full of need.
I grab the condom from my jeans and am inside her in the next breath. She’s coming three strokes later.
“It’s been a while,” she gasps.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I slow down, trying to prolong the pleasure for as long as humanly possible.
But as usual, Sabrina has other ideas.
“Come on, Tuck. Fuck me hard.”
She digs her nails into my ass and I’m gone.
I hammer into her hard enough to drive her from one side of the bed to the other. She comes again and I finally let go.
I love this girl. Love her to death. The words are on the tip of my tongue and I barely manage to swallow them back. She’s not certain of me yet. I need to bide my time, but as long as I’m in the game, I’m not worried about the outcome.
“Gonna take care of the condom,” I murmur, and she nods sleepily.
When I get out of the bathroom, she’s tucked under the covers, fast asleep.
Smiling, I crawl in next to her, propping myself up on an elbow to stare at her beautiful face. Her thick lashes lay on her cheeks, and there’s a satisfied smile on her lips. To the outside world, Sabrina James puts on a good show of being tough and impervious to it all, but in reality, she’s vulnerable and sweet and precious.
I slide an arm under her neck, and even in slumber she turns into me, her legs twining with mine. We sleep wrapped up in each other. Two halves of a bigger, better whole.
*
The sound of retching wakes me up. Someone is puking her guts out in the bathroom. I glance at the clock—it’s not even six.
I stumble out of the bed, naked and not quite fully awake yet.
In the bathroom, I find Sabrina on her knees, bent over and heaving into the toilet.
I’m instantly alert. I grab a towel off the rack and wrap it around her shoulders. “What do you need?” I ask in a gentle voice.
She shakes her head wordlessly and then slumps against my legs. I reach down to smooth her hair away from her head, worry spiking in my blood. What the fuck should I do?
Without moving her, I reach behind me and fill a glass with water, then drop down on my haunches and offer her the glass.
“Thanks.” She accepts the glass with a trembling hand.
I stroke her back as she takes a timid sip. “Take your time.”
In my head, I’m already dialing up doctors and wheeling her into the emergency room, but I’ve got to frame it right or I know she’ll object. Before I can even broach the subject with her, she lurches forward and throws up the water she just drank.
I wait until she settles down again before lifting her into my arms and carrying her back to bed. “I’m taking you to a doctor,” I announce.
“No.” She grabs my wrist, but her grip is limp. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. I just overdid it this week.” Tears stain her face. “God, that was gross. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, baby, who cares?” I hold her against my chest as I clear the sheets away for her.
Once I have her tucked in, I leave to get a washcloth and another glass of water. On my way back to the bed, I snag the trashcan and place it on the floor next to her.
I hate how miserable she looks, and my nurturing side kicks in as I lay the washcloth across her forehead. “You’ve been throwing up like this every day for how long?”
“I don’t know. A while. I caught a bug. Nana had it first and she’s finally gotten over it. I just need to wait it out. I’ll feel better in a few hours.”
“You got a fever? Should I get you some aspirin?” I press the back of my hand against her face. It doesn’t feel flushed.
“No fever,” she mumbles. “Just queasy and tired.”
An alarm bell rings in my head.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I run through her symptoms. The sickness in the morning, tapering off in the afternoons, the really tender breasts, her feelings of fatigue. No signs of fever. The fact that she’s never once had her period, or at least mentioned it, in the two-odd months we’ve been screwing.
“Are you pregnant?” I blurt out.
Her eyelids snap open. “What?”
“Pregnant.” I tick off her symptoms on each of my fingers, ending with the lack of period.
“No. I’m not. I just had my period…” She pauses and thinks. Her face goes white. “Close to three months ago,” she whispers. “But…I’ve always had light periods, even on the pill. And I’ve been spotting the last couple of months. I thought…”
I get to my feet and hunt down my clothes.
“Where are you going?” she whimpers.
“To buy a pregnancy test.” Or five. I swipe a package of crackers from the minibar and toss them toward her. “Try to eat, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She’s still protesting as I leave the room.
There’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy eight blocks away. I sprint toward it like I’m trying to qualify for the Olympics, unconcerned that I totally forgot my coat at the hotel.
Inside the pharmacy, I find three different tests. I buy them all.
The clerk gives me a sympathetic look and opens his mouth to say something stupid. The death glare on my face has him clamping his lips together.
When I get back, Sabrina is sitting on the edge of the bed eating the crackers. I feel like the tests are superfluous at this point. She could be a commercial for pregnant chicks.
I’m surprisingly calm as I open each box. “Here you go. Three different ones.”
“We’ve been safe,” she says, her tone faraway as if she’s talking to herself rather than me. “I’m on the pill.”
“Except that first time.”
She grimaces. “It was just the tip.”
An involuntary laugh comes out. “Then peeing on the sticks only gives us peace of mind, right?”
She finishes her cracker in silence. I don’t know whether to sit beside her or on the loveseat. I opt for the couch to give her space. Sometimes Sabrina can be hard to read. Right now, I have zero idea what’s going through her head.
Slowly, she gets up and approaches the small cardboard boxes stacked on the desk as if they contain venomous snakes. But eventually she gets there, gathers the boxes in her arms, and disappears into the bathroom.
I don’t stand at the door with a cup against the wall, even though I’m tempted as fuck to do it. Instead, I turn on the television and watch a couple ladies try to sell me a velour tracksuit in various types of animal print—only $69.99.
I watch this mind-numbing display for ten eternal minutes before the bathroom door opens. Sabrina’s face is about the same shade of white as the hotel robe she’s wearing.
“Positive?” I ask unnecessarily.
She holds up an empty box. “You need to go buy ten more of these.”
I pat the sofa cushion next to me. “I’m not buying any more. Come and sit down.”
Like a belligerent child, she stomps over. Then she drops down next to me and covers her face with her hands. “I can’t have a baby, Tucker. I can’t.”
A sick feeling curdles in my stomach. It’s a weird mix of relief and disappointment. The words I love you—the ones I wanted to say earlier when I was buried inside her—are stuck in my throat. I can’t say them now.
“You do whatever you need to,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
It’s all I feel like I can say at this point, and I know it’s not enough.
