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“I’m pregnant,” I blurted. “I have been pregnant. For, like, about a month now. I haven’t told you because I didn’t quite believe it myself and because I have, um, kind of a… history, so I figured it might not even be an issue.” My stomach churned, wondering if I was telling him too early and my body would expel this baby tomorrow.
“But it, uh, I guess is an issue, maybe,” I muttered. “If you want to look at it that way. Of course, something could still happen because something could always happen, but I figure it’s stuck somewhat now, and there’s no avoiding it or lying about it because I’ve had my head shoved down a toilet for the past two days, and you were bound to notice. That and my tits.”
Up until this point, my tits had only been sore and sensitive. Kip noticed because he paid particular attention to them. He just thought I was extra turned on. Which I had been. But now their appearance was beginning to change. Darker nipples. A lot of veins.
And that was just the beginning.
Kip hadn’t spoken since I’d blurted everything out. Shit, I wasn’t sure if he’d even blinked. He was still grasping my chin, standing there, staring at me, face frozen in something resembling shock.
That made sense.
The news was pretty shocking.
“Did you plan this?” he asked quietly.
I didn’t like the quiet tone. In fact, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my blood feel cold.
It was terrifying.
But the question itself was infuriating, so luckily it balanced out and I wasn’t cowering like a simpering bitch or anything.
“What?” I asked, bite to my tone, stepping away from him.
Kip’s face stayed cold, expressionless. “Did you plan this?” He gestured to my flat stomach violently.
So much so, I almost flinched.
Almost.
“Are you fuckingkiddingme?” I asked him.
“No, I’m not fuckin’ kidding you,” he snarled. “You need to get married for a Green Card, fine. We need to live together for appearances, I don’t give a fuck. Then I get inside that cunt because I need to fuck, and that’s good.” He stepped forward.
On reflex, I retreated, and I fucking hated myself for doing so.
“You tell me I don’t need to wrap it,” he continued in that quiet tone. “Goes against everything I’ve practiced, but I don’t think you have a reason to lie, and I’m too caught up by that fuckin’ pussy, so I believe you. So stupid. So fucking stupid.” He hit his forehead with the back of his hand. Violently.
My body wanted to shake from fear, my senses hurtling back years to when a man did scare me, when a man hurt me—but I tilted my chin up to let him know I wasn't scared. Or let himthinkI wasn’t scared.
“And what, pray tell, do you think my reason would be for getting pregnant on purpose?” I asked him, letting my irritation gain a foothold. It helped quell the fear.
“You think I want to trap you?” I continued. “You?The construction worker who drinks too much, who lived in pretty much squalor, who luckily doesn’t have venereal diseases, and whose only redeeming quality is that he can eat pussy like a champ?” I pressed the back of my hand to my own forehead. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I’m ruining my body, changing my future, and ensuring my mid-to-late thirties will be filled with dirty diapers and a screaming infant and not one second to go to the bathroom by myself. Yes, I did this on fuckingpurpose!”
I was yelling now.
It felt good.
It felt even better to see that I’d caused a slight chink in Kip’s scary badass armor. A good thing too.
But even chinked, it was still formidable.
He was quiet for a long time. As if he was weighing my words, testing them for truth.
“I’m not going to be a father,” he murmured.
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you blew, like,hundredsof loads into me,” I returned. Not exactly classy, but fuck it, I wasn’t some debutante.
“You said you couldn’t get pregnant! You fuckinglied!” he roared in my face. Yes, roared. Like a dragon or something.
