A Little Less Tal

Notes from the author:

SPOILER ALERT...

This is a sequel to my submission in Non-Con called "A Little Less Talk". I recommend reading that first, but in case you just want a sum up, that story featured a man who had just discovered his wife's infidelity, and chooses to embark on a night of drinking to drown his sorrows. He visits a bar and is hit on by a younger woman. Little does she know that he is in a very bad mood, and will dish out far more aggression than she bargained for. The sex scenes featured heavy degradation and sex without protection.

This story features anal sex, orgasm denial, Ddlg, and impregnation. I wasn't sure how to categorize this chapter because it's a bit of a smorgasbord in terms of genre, but I settled on BDSM, because I imagine any good sub will enjoy it. Not sure about you Doms...constructive feedback is welcome.

---------------

"Sarah, table two needs their check," called Marci from the other end of the bar.

"Got it," I muttered.

Jeez what a day it'd been. Waiting tables was not as easy as I'd expected. The tips were okay, I supposed, but far from enough to be independent from my parents.

I debated from time to time whether things would've been different had I not quit community college. I still hadn't made heads or tails of what I wanted to do, and those friends of mine that

had

graduated with advanced degrees complained that they weren't making enough to offset their student loans and other living expenses.

Were things that different today from thirty years ago? It was impossible for me to say, but it seemed to be the case, what with all the fifty-somethings on their high horses bragging that they'd put themselves through college without their parents' help, without decades worth of debt, and without whining.

I didn't know what I'd do in the long run, but I had a feeling waitressing was not my calling.

I'd dragged myself behind the counter to the register and was pulling up the tab for table two when I heard a deep voice say, "Hello."

The voice made my nipples go instantly hard, and I lost all train of thought when I looked up and saw...

him

.

I felt my jaw drop in shock as I stared, and confirmed that it was indeed

him

.

"How are you?" he asked, his eyes penetrating me in such a delicious way that I could feel myself wetten. My heart was hammering in my chest, but I finally found my voice.

"I...I'm okay," I stuttered.

He smiled softly at me, and I wondered who he really was. The man I'd met six months ago matched him in form, but hardly in demeanor.

"Do you wanna get together for coffee or something?"

What?

"Coffee?" I repeated, like a stuttering teenaged idiot.

"Yeah," he smiled again, "Tonight?"

"Um, sure," I breathed. "But not here...umm, Café Lucina. The next block over, on 8

th

."

"Sounds terrific," he grinned. "What time do you get off?"

Jesus, what a sexy grin he has. What the fuck...

"Six," I whispered. I couldn't seem to do anything else. I was totally floored by the sudden reappearance of the man who'd rocked and forever changed my world.

"Great, I'll see you then."

"Kay," I nodded, still frozen in place as he turned to walk out the door. Tall, sexy as hell, just like I remembered.

"Sarah? Table two??" Marci repeated, indicating my table and the two officially pissed off patrons.

Perfect. Goodbye tip.

--------------

My cock had stirred immediately as I recognized her.

Sarah. The persistent little vixen who'd haunted my dreams for the past six months. I'd been back to Grubby's a few times since then, hoping we'd cross paths, but could never get up the nerve to call her. Not after the way I'd behaved.

Hell I'd

told

her to walk away. I'd fucking

told

her. But fuck me, I could never regret that night. She'd been totally submissive, once I'd made it clear that I was not playing games. She probably thought she'd be the one to call the shots, being that she was the one to approach me, and quite brazenly at that. One look at her little skirt and flirty boots and I knew she had me.

I'd kept a tight leash on her the entire sordid evening, determined that she wouldn't manipulate me the way my wife had. My

ex

wife. Damn it, I needed to get used to that. I didn't have a wife anymore.

Most nights I'd stay in, increasingly jerking off to visions of that dirty little slut Sarah. Her hands insistently tugging at my throbbing cock, that look of awe as I released my semen all over her lovely young face, the way her tight little cunt milked me, drawing every last drop free of my balls and into her womb. Fucking hell, it made me throb in my fucking pants. And then her ass.

Christ

...

I'd been plagued by guilt once the sex high, and the booze, had worn off.

My subsequent obsession with Sarah brought with it conflicting feelings of disgust and arousal. I was too old for her, and had been an overbearing asshole to boot. I'd thought to have a good time, enjoy myself, focus only on my own pleasure for once. What I

hadn't

expected was for her to plant herself in my brain and never leave.

Perhaps it was karma. I'd selfishly used a young unsuspecting woman for rebound sex, and now endured wet dreams with a frequency reminiscent of my youth.

I twitched in my pants at the thought that I might have her again—and in short order at that. We were meeting tonight. I laughed in recollection of the look on her face when she'd recognized me. She looked so fucking scared, and aroused—the deliciously potent combination that had been the flavor of that fateful evening.

While I'd never been prone to particularly kinky or aggressive sex, that night had set a new precedent. I had to have that...

power

again. And I knew there was only one partner that would satisfy my newly discovered dark desires. Sarah.

--------------

I cursed as I again made a conscious effort to control my tapping foot. It was six thirty. Her work was one block away. Shouldn't she be here by now?

Relax asshole, maybe they're keeping her late or something.

But I couldn't relax. Had Sarah changed her mind? Was she blowing me off?

Five minutes later I was irritated and about to leave, when the bells on the door jangled, announcing the entry of a new patron. Despising myself for the surge of excitement that rushed through me, I directed my gaze to the entrance.

Holy...

"Hi," she greeted softly as she approached.

I stood from my chair, my hands clammy, my gut now twisted in an entirely different way.

We faced each other, that is, she bashfully stared at the floor, while I stood gazing in wonderment at her very pregnant belly.

The silence stretched.

You stupid ass, let her sit down!

"I'm sorry Sarah, please," I apologized as I pulled a chair out for her. She'd clearly been on her feet all day and was no doubt exhausted.

"Thanks..."

"I...so..." I tried fruitlessly to form a sentence.

"What's your name?" she asked in a clear voice.

Forcing my attention away from her shirt, which clung enticingly to her newish womanly curves, I met her eyes.

"Oh, it's Mark...sorry," I shook my head.

Had I never actually introduced myself? Really?

"It's nice to meet you Mark," Sarah smirked, and I grinned at the brief glimmer of the sassy seductress who'd ruled my fantasies for the past...

"I'm sorry Sarah, but I have to ask. How far along are you?"

My hands fisted in my jacket pockets.

"Six months. And, yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. It's yours. Ours."

Holy fuck.

She'd been behind the counter—her pregnant belly out of view when I'd approached her, asked her out. Why had I never considered...?

Jesus you're an ass.

I shook my head, stupefied, not knowing whether to panic or...what?

"I'm sorry Sarah."

"What are you sorry for?"

"For my...negligence," I frowned. "I brought this upon you. I gave it no thought."

"Neither did I," she smiled. "I've made my peace with it."

"You have?"

"Well I didn't exactly have much of a choice, but yeah. It meant getting a job, and keeping it for once. The hours on my feet are what suck the most. My parents are supporting me until I have enough saved to move out."

"Jesus," I muttered.

"What? Hey, I'm not looking for a handout Mark. I am responsible for what happened. I approached

you

. I haven't forgotten that."

"No, I shouldn't have..."

"Hi there what can I get you?" came the bubbly totally oblivious greeting from our waitress.

"Umm, I'll have a decaf latte please," Sarah smiled politely.

"Yeah...the same," I cleared my throat. God knew what the hell I wanted. I wanted to

wake up

.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"Well I didn't give you much option in that did I?" I shook my head, disgusted with myself.

"No I guess not," she giggled. "But still. It's awkward."

"Got that right," I chuckled in agreement.

The waitress brought our drinks and we took our first sips in unison.

She frowned suddenly, and I wondered what was wrong. Then I caught the direction of her gaze.

"Where's your ring? Your wedding ring?"

It was my turn to frown, though I tried my best to temper it.

"My wife and I divorced very shortly after you and I met."

"Why? I mean, did you tell her or something?"

"God no," I chuckled. "I caught her that same night, with another man. That was why I went to the bar in the first place, and why I was so pissed off."

"Oh."

She looked shocked. Guess I couldn't blame her. In no way had I let on what my circumstances were at the time.

"Pissed or not though, I shouldn't have treated you the way I did."

"No, I understand."

I grimaced at her civil behavior, when I'd so royally fucked up.

"Jesus, you're...pregnant," I muttered stupidly.

The word was unfamiliar, and awkward on my tongue. Lesley and I had never had kids, and we'd never actively tried to conceive. She was busy in her business, and I in mine. It hadn't seemed a pressing issue of debate.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

What?

"Huh?" I'd been staring again, at her round belly. The more I looked at it, the more natural it seemed. The more feminine. The more...

"I mean, do you want to go someplace more private?"

"Oh, yeah," I snapped to attention, fishing a few bills out of my pocket for the waitress. "My place isn't far. Come on..."

I rose and quickly moved to help her from her chair. She blushed as she accepted my hand, and I realized that I was noticeably hard, though there was not much I could do about it.

Goddamnit

, I cursed to myself as we approached my truck. The very same truck. She'd no doubt recognize it.

If she did, she didn't say anything. I opened the door and helped her up into the passenger seat.

I forced my eyes away when her hand came up over her tummy, and made sure her feet were clear before closing the passenger door.

My truck was old, but loyal. I was skilled enough to manage most repairs and maintenance, but I often wondered what the hell I was saving it for. It was hardly sentimental in value—though perhaps now it was. It meant something to

us

...Sarah and me. A memento of that night I'd driven us out into the field.

I pulled out of my parking space and onto the main road slowly, mindful of the precious cargo.

"Aahh," Sarah gasped as we stopped at a red light.

"What?" I looked over, curious.

She said nothing, but reached over and took my right hand, placing it firmly against her belly.

Jesus Christ.

"Kicking?"

"Yeah," she smiled.

I took my hand away swiftly, not because I wanted to, only because the light was now green and I needed to get her to my place.

Immediately.

She seemed to understand, and we rode together in silence the rest of the way.

I pulled into my reserved spot at the apartment complex and cut the engine before hurrying around to help her out. Getting in and out of my high truck was clearly more laborious for her today than it was six months ago.

Part of me was remorseful, but a darker part of me was grossly aroused by it.

"You alright?" I checked as she steadied herself.

"Yeah, fine..." she blushed again making me want her. This new version of Sarah was no less intoxicating. If anything, her vulnerable condition made her twice as desirable.

Jesus, had I stumbled upon a dormant pregnancy fetish? What the hell was happening here?

I wrapped her arm around mine instinctively as we walked to the elevator, making a conscious effort to slow my normal brisk gait.

"For heaven's sake Mark, you don't have to fuss over me," she laughed. "I work on my feet all day, I'm not gonna fall."

"Well you're definitely not falling on

my

watch Sarah," I issued sternly. More sternly than intended. "Let me take care of you."

Her eyes flew to mine then, and I could tell she recognized how serious I was. Her hand squeezed my arm and she lowered her eyes submissively.

"Good girl."

The elevator reached my floor and I escorted her down the hall and into my apartment.

It was small. Simple. Sufficient. Not an asset to boast about, but not shabby either. Thank God the housekeeper had been in this morning.

"Nice place," she sighed.

"It works for me," I shrugged. "Can I get you any water, or...something?"

Beer was out of the question.

"That'd be nice, but speaking of...can I use your bathroom?" Sarah blushed.

"Sure thing," I gestured down the hall to the lone bathroom in the place, again grateful the maids had taken care of my mess.

When the door closed behind her, I made for the kitchen and got us both glasses of water. I rummaged through my pantry, finding little more than some fucking Oreos. Damn it, I needed to go to the store.

What pregnant woman doesn't love Oreos though?

Hell if I knew, but whatever. It would have to do. I poured about a dozen on a small plate and set them and the waters on the coffee table.

Since she still hadn't left the bathroom, I quickly changed my shirt and slapped on a little cologne, running my fingers through my hair in a feeble attempt to look nice for the young woman I'd impregnated. It was just too fucked up.

I heard the toilet flush then, and hurried out to the living room just as she emerged.

"I didn't know what you'd like, so I went with cookies," I said sheepishly, hoping to get a smile out of her.

"Cookies are good," she grinned and snatched one from the plate.

The look on her face as she chomped on it fucked with my head. Clearing my throat, I beckoned her to join me on the couch.

"So, what've you been up to?" I began, setting the plate back down on the coffee table.

"You mean other than being pregnant?" Sarah laughed. "I've just been working at the diner, trying to save enough to move out of my parents' place."

"Do you think you might go to school eventually?" I asked.

"That'd be great if I had the time, or any idea of what I ultimately want to do."

"You don't know?"

"No...well, I thought of social work, helping kids, but it turns out that does require a lot of studying and multiple certifications, and I've never been a good student. My skills are more social and visual than academic. Can't change who you are."

"No you sure can't," I agreed, though who I was seemingly

had

changed. Or perhaps I'd been this way all along.

"And what about you?" she turned the tables.

"Ah shit," I shook my head, not really wanting to broach this topic with her. "Well, the divorce settled pretty quick. She admitted to the affair, and since we didn't have kids or significant joint assets to speak of, it was a pretty clean break. Since then, I've pretty much just been trying to adjust to being single again."

"How long were you together?"

"A little over eight years."

"Wow, and no kids..."

"Nope," my gaze wandered from her pretty young face down over her full breasts and rested on her pregnant belly. "Do you mind?"

But she was already reaching for my hand to place it over her warm firm belly. I closed my eyes as I felt our child kick.

God, our child. My child. My son or daughter.

"You're sure it's mine?" I gazed hopefully into her eyes.

"Yes, Mark. You're the father."

Her certain words made my eyes cloud, and before I could stop myself, my mouth was on hers.

--------------------------

I'd barely had a chance to appreciate the glimmer in his gorgeous eyes before he consumed me. His mouth captured mine, his tongue immediately demanding entrance. My legs parted instinctively. God help me, I'd dreamt of the bastard. I'd dreamt of him, his hands, his mouth—though I'd never actually tasted his mouth until now. It was an instant addiction.

In spite of his sudden predatory ambush of my mouth, Mark's large hand still rested softly on my belly. I loved it, and hated it, because I wanted it to touch me somewhere else.

As much as the notion that he would want to care for me, for our baby, elated me, it was hard to focus on his tenderness. I wanted his roughness. The roughness that had brought us together.

"Mmmm," I moaned wantonly, savoring the growl that he responded with as I redirected his hand downward, and wiggled my hips in encouragement.

"I'm so glad I found you Sarah," he breathed against my lips. "Thank you..."

"Mark, please...touch me," I begged.

"Touch you

where,

little girl?" he teased.

"Aahhh!" I gasped as his fingers brushed my pussy through the damp crotch of my spandex pants. "Mark...yes!"

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes!" I hissed, bucking my hips frantically as he began feather soft caresses over my sensitive clit. God, but the man knew what he was doing. He was teasing me. He wanted to make me crazy.

When he'd asked me out for coffee, the last thing I'd expected was to be begging and squirming on his hand, mere hours later. What was wrong with me? Where was my pride?

"What do you want little girl?"

"I want...your hands, on me. Please..." I moaned.

"My hands

are

on you," he pointed out with a deep chuckle.

"I need more," I whispered.

"How can I give you more?"

How indeed. I didn't think it was possible to do what we'd done before in my current state. It was difficult to maneuver, and my movements were not as quick, nor as graceful or seductive. He wouldn't want me in this condition.

I grew red with embarrassment, uncertain what I was asking of him. The man who'd impregnated me. Claimed me. Left his permanent mark on me.

"Here," he rose and gently helped me to my feet. I couldn't help but notice his erection straining against his jeans. Sweet lord, that cock. I licked my lips in recollection of him filling me. The pleasure, the pain, the insane fullness.

Quietly, I let him lead me down the hall to his bedroom.

Really Sarah? You're really doing this?

I'd cursed myself for months, ashamed of the brazen slut I knew was responsible for my current predicament.

Well, you can't get any more pregnant. Why the hell not?

Sound logic.

"Here, lay on the bed so you can get comfortable. Scoot closer to the edge...good girl."

Holy fuck that voice...that deep dark timbre that brought me to my knees, or in this case, my back.

Mark eased a pillow under my head, and pulled back to loom over me. I bit my lip as I saw him swallow in obvious restraint. He clearly wanted me, though why I had no idea.

"Fuck, don't do that," he growled.

"Don't do what?"

"Bite your lip. It's sexy.

Too

sexy..."

"How can it be too sexy?"

"Because it makes me want to fucking violate your pussy."

Fuck...

"Well then, I'll do my best to refrain from it," I licked my lips.

"Hell," he shook his head, his eyes dark, carnal.