Page 14 of Baby Bump for the Mafia Boss

Relief cascades through me. She’s okay. And she seems far less fuzzy-headed than me.

My cock twitches as she kneels beside the fire and puts a log onto it, and I’m instantly aware that I’m sticky. I throw myself up into a sitting position, at the same time as realising my trousers and underwear are around my thighs, and my shirt is partly unbuttoned.

And I can’t remember how it happened.

“Thank you for getting fuel. Are you okay? Did you sleep alright?”

Stephie has her back turned, tending the fire. I slide my hand down beneath the rugs we were sleeping under, and brush it over my stomach. My skin is tight. Almost crispy.

Fuck. That’s semen. Every man knows the feel of it, dried on his skin. My heart racing and guilt clogging my nose and mouth, I hastily straighten my clothes and grasp in my memory for what happened last night.

There’s... It’s hazy.

Whatever I was drugged with was—is—serious shit. My recollections are in tatters. The early evening is fairly clear, I held it together. But after eating, it all gets choppy, and I can’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. There are snippets of impossible things. Me, on top of Stephie. Her legs around my thighs as she urges me deeper and faster. Rolling bliss as I came inside her. Kisses. Her soft hair in my hand and the scent of her shampoo as we slept entwined.

The same thoughts I’ve had for four years, since she started working for me.

“What happened last night?” I snap.

“What?” She turns and blinks at me.

“Did I...” I can’t bring myself to ask if I forced myself on her. Surely I wouldn’t? But that drug. And I’ve wanted her for so long.

Her brow furrows. “You were there.” She gives a huff of “that’s obvious”.

“I can’t remember,” I admit.

Her jaw drops open, and her mouth is a perfect little “o”. So tempting. But the shock on her face is devastating. “You said you were fine.”

“I thought I was. But it seems to have blurred my memory.” Except for my fantasies. Those are vivid, if disjointed.

She can tell I’m lying. Or, that I’m partly lying, and I can remember the ravings of an insane mind picking out a vision of what I want most, and I have evidence on my stomach that something occurred.

“We just went to sleep,” she says, fussing with the fire and not looking at me.

“We laid together for warmth?” I check, and she nods quickly.

That’s not all though. She’s blushing.

“I’m sorry if being drugged led to any,” I pick my words carefully, “out of character behaviour last night.”Including but not limited to jacking off while you were right next to me, pressuring you to have sex with a man almost twice your age that you couldn’t say no to because you were in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard and he’s your boss, or even outright... I wouldn’t have done that. I’m sure I wouldn’t. However much I crave her, I wouldn’t take her when she didn’t want it.

Though drugs can make people crazy and misinterpret situations. A rock forms in my stomach.

She’s frozen in place, like a deer in headlights.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did.” My throat is dry with remorse. I’ve hurt her, and for four long years, that’s exactly what I’ve tried to avoid. “Tell me.”

“No.” she shakes her head, almost violently.

“Stephie,” I say seriously. “I need to know?—”

“Nothing happened.” She looks me right in the eyes, and I can tell she’s lying. If the evidence weren’t all over my belly from my traitorous cock, it would be clear in her face. Not to anyone else, but to me. She’s a competent liar—she has to be for this job—but I know her.

“Nothing.” I don’t hide my scepticism.

“We cuddled a bit for warmth, and then you moved further away once I was warm.”

To wank myself? That’s horribly plausible. It lines up with what’s in my memories, more than the idea that Stephie was enthusiastically clutching me and whimpering as I fucked her tight, hot pussy. If I gave in to an illusion and wanked off while looking at her, and maybe being too close, it would also explain why Stephie is keen to emphasise that nothing happened.