Pregnant By The CEO by Cassandra Dee
Epilogue
Pierce
It’s a lazy Sunday morning. I’ve gone out for bagels and a newspaper, but Casey is still in bed, reading and snacking and lazing about. She works so hard that it’s a relief to see her let go and have some time to herself.
Because over the summer, Two One Two offered Casey a new job. She’s moved from Corner Chat to the Food section, where she’s their head restaurant reviewer. Now, instead of helping the romantically-challenged sort out their love lives, she gets the inside scoop on all the best places to eat in Manhattan. It’s even busier than before, but in a good way, and my woman loves her job.
Except for one part. She laughingly complains about how much weight she’s gained from eating so many rich and indulgent foods for her column, but I think she gets sexier every day we spend together. And the twenty pounds she’s put on? It makes her look even more lush and desirable in my eyes.
Plus, I love her new job for a number of reasons that have nothing to do with her weight. For one, we’re constantly trying new places. Some weeks, we don’t have a single day free to cook at home. For example, last week we ate at a Brazilian steakhouse, a sashimi bar, a milkshake food truck, and a French bistro. She knows so much about different cuisines it’s astonishing, and since being together, she’s taught me how to put together all my favorite meals. She’s taught me how to sharpen a knife and how to make mayonnaise. That’s how diverse her skills are. The woman’s absolutely amazing.
Plus, it’s such a turn on to see how much the restaurant staff kisses Casey’s curvy ass when we go out to eat. They roll out the red carpet for her because they know she’s a food critic, and the chef sends surprises out all night. Often, Casey will ask for a tour of their kitchen and say hi to all the cooks. She always thanks them for the meal and asks them about themselves. My girl is gracious, for sure.
I’m so proud of her.
Plus, it’s been a year since the whole bracelet debacle. Sometimes looking back, I can’t believe that’s how I met my soulmate. Advice columnist? Whiny letter writer and feisty reply? It’s almost laughable because now, it just seems so far in the past.
If anything, I need to thank Maria for writing that missive and sending it to Two One Two. I’ll do it in person when we attend her wedding to Mark in June. Things really do come full circle, don’t they?
Plus, a few months back, Casey moved out of her apartment in Brooklyn and joined me in Manhattan in my penthouse. It’s perfect because I have 24/7 access to my lover’s body, and I’ve been teaching her the dirtier ways of making love.
At the moment, she’s on her hands and knees, squealing as I slide my dick into her ass.
“Oh god,” the brunette moans, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. “Oh fuck.”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” I growl. “Take it in your butt the way you like it. I know you’re an anal slut.”
Most women would be offended if I talked like that in the middle of a hot session. But not Casey. My woman knows that I treasure her more than anything, and besides, the filth turns her on. As if in answer, her ring clenches around my dick and she moans loudly again.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, pound my bottom, big guy.”
And it doesn’t take long because her anus is so tight that within a few minutes, I’m spewing my sperm deep into her rectal cavern.
“Yes!” she squeals, collapsing onto the mattress with her bottom still contracting on my hot shaft. “Oh fuuuuck!”
I grunt loudly, depositing the rest of my sperm into that hot anal channel. I love my baby, and how she makes all her holes available to me 24/7. That’s part of what makes us so compatible.
Once it’s over, we lay quietly in bed. The curvy girl’s on her back, smiling mindlessly. Anal sex does that to her. Once my female was introduced to the pleasures of the butt, there was no looking back. Absentmindedly, she caresses her stomach, eyes shut. I watch her hands work in figure eights against her naked belly. It’s sexy. She’s been spilling out of her clothes, and I find it irresistible. How did I get so lucky?
“Still full from last night’s dinner?” I tease, giving her swollen belly a kiss. Blushing, she stops and drops her hand. From crazy sex nympho to innocent girl, all in a span of ten seconds. I love it.
“It was a great meal,” I growl, taking her into my arms. “Though I was surprised you went with the pork chop over the steak. I thought you didn’t like pineapple.”
“I don’t, but I couldn’t resist the potatoes gratin it came with,” she admits shyly. “Can’t say no to a big dose of carbs.” Oh yeah. My baby likes to eat.
“And I couldn’t believe the way the chef fawned all over you too,” I grunt. “Sitting at the table like that, with all the hand-kissing? I couldn’t tell if he had a thing for you or if he just really wanted that five-star review.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” she giggles.
I laugh and give her a kiss.
“Now that you’re doing reviews, you must be feared by everyone in the food service industry in New York.”
She gives me a playful swipe. “Hardly. And I am pretty sure that you were the only one who was actually afraid of me.”
“No way.”
“Yes way,” she says playfully, giving my ear a little bite. I love when she does that. “Some people get comfort from my column, remember?”
“Well, I certainly get comfort from your new job,” I tell her. “Last night included. How about those little coconut mousse things?”
She smiles gently, stroking her belly. “I wish we had some of that now.”
I kiss each of her nipples, pulling at one ruby red tip and making her squeal. “Do you want some now? I can get a car back to the restaurant. You stay right in bed. I’ll feed it to you like a queen.”
She giggles with pleasure as I give her belly another kiss.
“You spoil me. How did I get so lucky?”
“It’s because I love you. And because you’re incredible.”
She giggles again. “Aw, that’s sweet, Pierce. You don’t need to go back to the restaurant, though. It’s seems a wee bit extreme.”
“Nothing’s too extreme for you, sweetheart. You deserve the best. So if you don’t want chocolate mousse, do you want to go out then? I thought we could get a glass of wine at the High Line?”
“The High Line sounds nice,” she says tentatively. “Wine, maybe not.”
“Not feeling it?” I ask curiously. My girl is usually up for a drink. She is a food and wine critic, after all.
But Casey turns to me, suddenly serious.
“I would love a glass of wine, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she repeats. Her hands have yet to stop rubbing her stomach. I pull her closer and breathe in the smell of her hair. She takes my big hands and clasps them in her small, soft ones.
“Mmmmm, or we could just stay here. No problem. I wouldn’t mind snuggling with you some more.” And getting her naked and hot all over again.
She giggles. “No, it’s not that. It’s actually something else.”
I look at Casey, mystified. She’s sitting up now and takes my hand and gently puts it over her stomach. I love to touch her belly, and to feel her soft, round sensuality. Today, for the first time, it feels different, like it’s slightly taut and hard against my palm. I realize what she’s about to say as it’s coming out of her mouth.
Her eyes are happy and shining with tears of joy. “I’m pregnant,” she whispers. “About three months in. A little more, actually. I just confirmed it with the doctor this morning.”
Casey puts her hands on her stomach over mine. She gives me a gentle squeeze as I look at her with awe, shock and love. Overcome with both joy and arousal, I kiss my woman deeply.
I’m going to be a father. To my surprise, I feel myself starting to cry. Oh shit. I’m really and truly losing it. I haven’t cried in decades, but it’s happening now.
My girlfriend shushes me, stroking my black head.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You’ll be an amazing daddy, Pierce.”
“I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner,” I manage in a choked voice. “I’ve been coming in you all the time, and you’re a very fertile young woman.”
“Apparently I am,” she smiles, shifting. “Actually give me a sec. Pregnant women need to pee a lot. I'll be right back.”
She grabs her silk bathrobe and heads to the en suite. Quickly, I leap out of bed and climb into a pair of boxers because what I have planned isn't something one really does in the nude. The velvet box is in my suit pocket. I was going to wait until tonight, but the time seems right. I can’t believe she told me today because it’s like we’re always reading each other’s minds.
She is my soulmate, after all.
Casey comes out of the bathroom wearing her dressing gown. Her mermaid hair hangs behind her, silky, long and dark. Her hand rests on top of the growing belly that's peeking out of the folds of her bathrobe. She's barefoot and so beautiful that my heart nearly explodes with love.
Seeing her, I take one knee in the middle of my bedroom floor. She gasps when she sees what I’m doing, and what’s in my hand. I'm holding a simple, but exquisite glittering diamond ring.
She starts to cry, really cry. It’s something I’ve never seen her do before. It’s a big day for us, to say the least. Her eyes, normally rich chocolatey brown, take on a golden, shining quality. My woman sniffles, lifting a hand to her face as I softly stroke a finger beneath her eye, brushing away tears. She sniffles again before we lock eyes and my heart soars.
Casey gazes at the ring. It’s old fashioned, but lovely with a bright silver band with intricate carvings around the stone setting. The diamond itself is large, glittering, and cut into a heart shape to maximize brilliance.
“The ring was my great grandmother’s,” I begin in a low voice. “My great granddad proposed to her with it back in Ireland,” I say, taking one of her hands in my own. “This past weekend, while you and Nicole went to that bridal shower in New Jersey-”
“It was on Long Island,” she interrupts tearfully. I smile. Always the journalist, fact checking what I say. I don’t mind because I adore how intelligent and sharp she is.
“When you and Nicole went to Long Island,” I say humbly, “I drove out to the country and told my parents that I’d met the love of my life, and wanted to ask her to become my wife. They let me take my great-grandmother’s ring as a result. So I’d like to ask you now: Casey Henderson, the future mother of my child,” I say, voice breaking with emotion, “Darling, will you be my wife?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I will!” the curvy girl cries, throwing her arms around my neck. “I’d love to,” she murmurs against my bronzed throat.
“It’s only just beginning,” I tell her.
We kiss. I feel a warm tear slide onto my neck, and it’s not coming from Casey. She notices immediately and smiles gently.
“Are you crying, you big softie?”
I nod. “We’re going to be a family.”
“Yes,” she says, putting her little hand into mine. “We are.”
My beautiful fiancée leads me to the spacious living room and we toast to our future with champagne for me, and a strawberry lime seltzer for Casey. The city shines below.
Casey turns to me and smiles.
“I sure am glad I tore you to shreds in my column,” she says softly.
“I sure am glad I set the record straight,” I reply with a grin.
We both laugh then. A wedding to plan and a baby on the way. Who knew? I didn’t realize this life was waiting for me. We never do, I suppose, because sometimes, just sometimes … life hands you the gifts that you actually want.
The End
Did you love this book? Then pick up the first book in the series Pregnant By My Boss available here.
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