High-Risk Fever (24 page)

“You want it?” His voice sounded constricted.

“Oh, please, yes.” Feverish, she opened her eyes and glanced at the guy in front of the store. He looked down to drop his cigarette butt to the ground, black hair dancing before his eyes, then gazed up at her again. A grin lifted one side of his mouth while he snuck a hand to the front of his pants and rubbed his crotch.

She laughed back. This was insane, being fucked in a car in a parking lot while a horny stranger watched! In full daylight!

Closing her eyes again, she gave Brian and his massages the full attention they deserved.

His thick, hard shaft slid between her folds, found her entrance, and glided halfway in. She moaned from the torturous friction, needed more. He put his free hand on her hip and guided her down onto his lap again, seating himself in the deepest of her.

The stroking against her sensitive walls became so intolerable she almost exploded. Her butt cheeks met his thighs, the quick, repeated slaps resounding in the car. She needed to move fast,
oh please, fast
, but didn’t have to do a thing as he pressed her up and sank her down at a speedy rhythm.

There, she came, reached absolute perfection. Electricity charged through her body and she shook almost to pieces on Brian’s lap, shouting from the intense heat and rush of pleasure.

“Wait for me, baby!” Brian panted. Digging into her skin, his large hands made her spasming pussy glide faster up and down his slick length, sucking sounds filling the car, and she nearly came a second time.

He jerked, body tensing like a bow then groaned against her neck, loud and roaring as a bear in heat. “Oh, fuck, oooooh!” His cock jolted inside of her. “Oooooh!”

Trembling uncontrollably while he filled her with cum, breathing in the musky smell of sex and sweat that emanated from them, she shot the store employee a heated glance.

The young guy staggered backward into the store with his face flushed and a wet spot spreading at crotch level on his jeans.

Three months later. The last of the tenant families had left for their daily trip after breakfast, when knocks sounded on the front door.

Curled up on the living room couch with her legs folded beneath her, Anne looked up from her romance book and sighed. Tiredness and lurking morning sickness nailed her to the spot. She didn’t want to make a single move.

At this hour, it could only be the facteur. She waited.

Indeed, after more knocks, the familiar marine blue cap appeared in the window beside the door, a hand shading the side of his thin face from the sunny reflection. “Madame?” His breath left a little condensation on the glass.

She lifted a heavy hand, waved. “Yes, here.”

Squinting eyes darted toward her, and upon recognition, a grin spread across his features. “Madame, you have mail.”

“You can come in.” She dreaded the next minutes of interrogation.

Thanks to the constant poking of his curious nose in people’s affairs, last week, the news of her pregnancy had spread like fire. Every
villageois
, big and small, had congratulated her, from the corpulent, mustached baker at the corner to the high-heeled cashier at Boutique La Mode, to the chatty florist whose store overflowed the sidewalk with colors and smells of summer, and crooked, old Madame Bouvet on her morning trips with Bibi the pug. Their kindness and excitement were so genuine, Anne should have been happy.

She
was
happy. Despite her morning grogginess, these past three months were the most precious days of her life. Nothing could compare to knowing she carried a
baby
in her womb, the one thing she desired more than any other! And Brian’s eyes, filling with tears of joy and pride when she told him the news, had made it simply perfect.

But the postman’s zeal was exhausting. As he opened the door and rushed in, waving an envelope, she took a deep breath and promised herself to keep their chat to a minimum.

The smell of pre-winter, fresh and mint-sharp, flowed in with the sunlight. Next summer, she would sit in the same spot on her couch, nursing a newborn.

She didn’t know who the father was, Brian, Mica, or Todd. There were methods to determine that, if any of them wanted to be certain. But, to her, it didn’t really matter. In her mind, all three men had fathered her baby.

“This is for you.” Breathless, eyes gleaming with excitement, the postman stopped in front of the coffee table and handed her the envelope.

It was small, purple, and felt light in her hand, probably containing a simple note. When she saw the stamp marked Italia, her heart jumped so high, she thought she’d choke on it.

Mica!

She swallowed. She hadn’t heard from him since—

While the impatient postman fidgeted, she tore open the envelope with trembling fingers and waited a few beats before pulling out the card inside.

Hand-written and adorned with purple flowers, it said,
Todd Saunders and Micaela Costa request the pleasure of your company at their marriage on Sunday
.

Warm tears rushed and swelled in her eyes, blurring her vision.

She pressed the card against her chest, as if holding the boys’ announcement close to her heart confirmed her belief in life and its miracles. “Merci.”

Lea Bronsen has always had a vivid imagination and written since an early age. Now juggling life as a mother, full-time worker, and thriving author, she struggles to find any reading time - but when she opens a book, she wants it fast, hot, and edgy! Striving to give her own stories the same intensity, she currently divides her writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.

She loves to interact with her readers, so come visit her on
www.leabronsen.com
and drop a line!

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