Sawyer Bennett - Off Chance

My dad... not much to tell there. He died about six months ago. My mom called to tell me and I had a moment of sadness that he died all alone. But then I put it out of my mind. He was a virtual stranger to me and there was no bond there to miss.

I did, however, gain a new dad with Peter. He’s awesome and I’ve grown to love him very much. He walked me down the aisle when I hitched myself to Flynn.

Looking out at the guys playing football, I think about what type of father Flynn will be. It’s probably the thing I’m looking forward to the most... watching him hold our child. We have no clue if it’s a boy or a girl, both of us wanting to be surprised.

If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him Nathaniel Nixon and if it’s a girl, she’ll be Elizabeth Anne. I’m secretly hoping for a boy, but more than anything, I’m hoping for good pain medications.

Us girls lounge around and chit chat, dishing on babies and sex, but we find ourselves having to talk in code around Amelia. I eat another piece of chicken while Danny abstains and I wonder why I’m as big as a whale.

The men eventually tire themselves out, or get bored, since they’re done playing in about fifteen minutes and head back to the group. Flynn sits behind me and pulls me back into his arms, so my back can take a rest. His arms come around my waist to rest on my belly. The baby gives a little kick in response and Flynn chuckles.

“I think it’s a boy... that’s a football kick if I ever felt one.”

“Yeah, and I think it was to my bladder. I got to pee.”

“Come on, hot mama. Let me help you up.”

With Flynn’s help, it’s not so hard getting to my feet and he walks with me to the bathroom.

“You don’t have to walk with me to the bathroom,” I tell him.

He grabs my hand and squeezes. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“You can’t go in with me,” I tell him sternly.

“I’ll wait outside. I’ve got your back... and hopefully your ass tonight.”

“You have the most awesome pillow talk, baby.”

We’re silent as we walk, swinging our hands back and forth. I look down at my belly, taking note that I can just see the tips of my shoes briefly flashing with each stride. It’s just one of the things I find I will treasure about pregnancy.

“Flynn?”

“What’s up?”

“I feel bad for Ever not being able to get pregnant. I mean... as much as I bitch about it, knowing that she might not be able to experience this is kind of tearing me up.”

“I know. Linc’s having a rough time, too.”

I’m careful with my next words, because this potentially could cause a fight. “What do you think about me offering to carry their baby for them? If she can’t get pregnant?”

Flynn snaps his head toward me and looks at me in surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t think so. I actually think it’s something I really want to do. I mean, they could say no, but I think I’d like to offer it.”

“I thought you said you were never going through this again.”

“Pfft,” I scoff. “We’re definitely having at least two kids... maybe three. Because it is oh so fun trying to get pregnant.”

Flynn bursts out laughing. “That it is.”

“I would never offer that to them though, unless you were on board. It’s my sexy body you’d be giving up for a while.”

Flynn stops walking and turns to me. Taking both of my hands in his, he looks at me with such adulation, that my heart skips a beat. “Rowan... you are the kindest, most wonderful woman on the face of the earth. I’m so proud to be your husband. If you want to do this for them, you have my full support.”

Tears well up in my eyes—damn hormones—and I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You’ve always given me devotion and support... from the day we first met. How many women can say that?”

“None,” he says with a laugh. “They broke the mold with me.”

“That they did,” I agree.

Flynn gathers me in and kisses me... deeply. It sends a thrill straight through my body and I feel the baby’s foot start a mad beating rhythm in response. I kiss him back, pouring all of my love and desire into it.

Pulling back, Flynn says, “Damn, woman. How about I go into the bathroom with you and we have monkey sex in a stall?”

I put my hands on his chest and playfully push him away. “Ewww. That’s gross.”

Turning to the bathroom, I throw over my shoulder. “I’m going to pee... alone.”

“I’ll be waiting for you... right here,” he says, his eyes penetrating me.

“You’re always there for me,” I tell him.

“Always.”

If you enjoyed Off Chance as much as I enjoyed writing it, it would mean a lot for you to give me a review on Amazon.

Connect with Sawyer online:

Website: www.sawyerbennett.com

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A new adult story of Love. Sex. Addiction. Manipulation. Blackmail. And Power...

Some say love can be an addiction. Others say it’s the thing that makes life worth living.

Let me tell you everything I know about love…

Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind. Love is a game, a chase. A thrill. Love is wild and war-like, and every man and woman must fight for themselves.

At least that’s how it was for me.

A high-priced virgin call girl by the time I started college, I was addicted to love and to sex.

Even though I’ve never had either.

I controlled love, played it, and held the world in the palm of my hands.

Then I fell down from those highs, and I’m being blackmailed for all my mistakes, forced to keep secrets from everyone, except the only guy I don’t regret.

Trey.

****

With all the other women, I knew what they were. They were temporary.

They were pills, they were bottles, they took away all the pain, and numbed the awful memories that wore away at my ragged, wasted heart.

Until I met Harley.

She’s the only girl I ever missed when she walked away. But now she’s back in my life, every day, and there are no guarantees for us, especially since I don’t know how to tell her my secrets. What happened to my family.

All I know is she’s the closest I’ve ever come to something real, and I want to feel every second of it.

Harley

I’m a sex addict and a virgin.

I know everything about sex and I’ve never done it, though I came close last night.

I know nothing about love.

I know men.

I can size up a guy in seconds. If he wants my sweet and innocent side, or my sophisticated persona, or if he just wants me to shut up and nod while he talks about his day, because some just want to talk. I know how he’ll like it, how he’ll want it, and I know by the end of the hour or two if he’ll request me again.

But those days are behind me.

The past is the past.

This is now.

That’s what I have to believe as I walk into a church in Chelsea off Ninth Avenue to repent. It’s a fading white church, rather plain looking, unmarked by flying buttresses or soaring angels. The white brick is streaked with gray from soot and dirt and New York itself breezing by over the years. There’s a requisite steeple on top, unassuming, but still there pointing to the sky, and a small plaque outside the doors that declares its non-denominational-ness. Every flavor of fucked-up is welcome.

On Mondays, you can find the alcoholics. On Tuesdays the former drug abusers. On Wednesdays this place is home to those trying to kick the gambling habit. And tonight? I will spend the next hour with people like me, who are addicted to love and sex, sex and love.