Chapter 14 - The Macho Man

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"You have the worse perception of me. Ever. I did nothing to deserve that!"

Xiomara stomped her feet and stabbed a finger at Omar. The tension rolling off of him in waves hit her like a slap in the face. And once again, those almond-shaped brown eyes zeroed in on her, a tic working his jaw.

"Keep your voice down," he gritted.

"I will not. How dare you say such a thing to me?" Her voice remained an octave too high, but she did lower it down to a whisper. "I've had it with your insults."

"We're not having this conversation here." He looked around at the empty hallway and then he grabbed her by the hand, dragging her farther down the hall to the bedroom right next to hers. With the twist of the knob, she ended up with her back plastered against the wall of the darkened interior of what appeared to be Omar's bedroom.

The fact that he was pressed against her like red on tomato sauce registered clearly on her brain... and other parts. Intimate parts. Her body's reaction was so completely at odds with what she actually thought of the man. He was unnecessarily rude to her. He had an ego problem. And she hated his smirk.

How could she dislike him and yet come alive whenever he touched her, looked at her, even talked to her? Damn hormones!

"W-what... what are you do-"

"You ask too many questions, woman." His voice was practically a growl in her ear.

A heartbeat later, his lips were on hers and she moaned into his mouth. Omar was so much taller than she was, that she wasn't only plastered against the wall with his leg pushed firmly between her thighs, but he had hoisted her up, one of his hands supporting her butt while the other circled her waist in a tight hold.

"You have no idea how much I missed you." He spoke the words against her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe.

He kissed her neck, her jaw, her chin, nipping her with love bites. Xiomara pushed her bosom into him and inhaled his masculine scent deep into her lungs. One hand lifted to cup her breast as he reclaimed her mouth. She couldn't help but cling to him as his lips devoured her, brushing back and forth seductively and then taking her lower lip between his teeth and tugging.

Butterflies scattered in her stomach, their wings flapping like birds taking flight after a gunshot had disturbed them in their sanctuary. Between her thighs, a liquid fire burned, setting her core ablaze with heat.

"You taste so good," Omar said in between kisses, his hand holding her jaw captive, his fingers pressing into her cheek. "So damn good."

And then his mouth was on her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone and then back up to the sensitive spot behind her ears. Angling her head, she curled her hand around his neck, no longer able to contain the thirst overflowing inside of her. It was as if she was a fountain that had been empty for too long and was now being blessed with not just any water, but holy water.

"You taste good too," she said.

He grunted and lifted her higher, bringing her legs completely around his waist. She loved his strong built and the hard lines of his chest. He was broad shouldered with a narrow waist that gave way to long muscular legs. In his arms she felt secure, she felt protected. It was weird to feel this way when she wasn't even sure that she liked the guy.

Mmm. Okay, she most definitely liked what he was doing to her. His mouth was back on her, his tongue plunging past the seam of her lips and taking control. He kissed her hard. Demanding even. The mint on his breath tasted like a slice of heaven on earth, but then a heaven where sin didn't exist. Just Omar and his incredibly hot body.

Responding to him was easy peasy. The man had a way of making her heart beat too loud, and her lungs labor too hard for air. Her breath hitched in her throat just as his hand brushed along the swell of her breast to circle her waist.

Underneath the blouse she was wearing, her nipples turned rock hard, pushing desperately against the soft fabric of her bra. She did not remember her nipples ever being this sensitive that they bordered on pain. The feeling streaking from them past her navel was so overwhelming that she let out a soft cry. Her voice came out all breathy and hoarse — just barely recognizable.

Omar looked at her. "I want to fuck you right here against this wall."

He rocked his pelvis into her, and at the stroke of his solid erection grinding her lower tummy, she shut her eyes when it became clear that it wouldn't take much for her to become undone. And she was right.

When he shoved her back toward the wall, used his legs to support her and tore her blouse straight down the middle like a caveman and freed her breasts - and then with a low groan took her left nipple into the warm chamber of his mouth - she shattered. Exploded. Kaboom.

The quiver traveled fast, burning every fiber in her body and giving her an instant fever. It curled her toes, arched her back, and sent her head thrashing. All the while her sex suffered from a series of spasms, her inner muscles convulsing almost brutally as honeyed liquid all but soaked her panties.

Wait. Maybe that was pee. Oh good Lord.

"Damn, girl." Omar carried her over to the bed and dropped her on the mattress.

At the back of her mind, the clink of a belt buckle coming undone and the whoosh of pants hitting the floor barely registered. It wasn't until Omar was lying on top of her, his hungry mouth seeking hers in the shadows did she start to think. The doctor had given her the okay for sex, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. Having sex with Omar right now would be deceitful. She was carrying his child and he had no idea.

A slight pinch of her stomach brought her attention back to the man who was now lavishing kisses down her belly where her baby was. As if on cue the little one shifted right under his mouth. For a second she stopped breathing, but he didn't seem to notice and went on to run his tongue along the top edge of her panties.

"I love your curves. You're a beautiful woman, Xiomara."

The deep gravel of his voice sent a succession of aftershocks throughout her body. He too sounded hoarse, his voice cracking as he spoke. So fucking hot.

And the next, her underwear was gone. Only to be replaced by Omar's tongue sliding to and fro over all that slickness. He then flicked her clit from side to side before taking a deep pull. More liquid seeped out of her. She whimpered and reached down between her thighs to grab his practically bald head. The action was intended to hold him off, but he misinterpreted it, his tongue strokes getting flatter and broader as he lapped at her like she was his best meal in a long time.

Holy shit, she was about to come again. But this time if she let go, she was for sure going to pee herself. Yup.

"Stop. Stop! Please ..." she pleaded.

"Jesus Christ. Are you serious right now? You can't be serious right now." Omar got off the bed and was now scowling at her from above.

"I'm..." She was about to apologize but recognizing the irritation stamped on his features, she swallowed the words and grabbed her panties instead.

Rearranging his junk in his Calvin Klein boxers he started pacing. "You already gave it to me once, so there's no need to be all kumbaya now."

She frowned. "Are you seriously getting all worked up because I told you to stop?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. I want you."

The evidence to back up his words stood out in stark relief in his boxers. He was a big man, and his cock was built to fit his size. Blushing, she averted her gaze as she tried to keep her eyes on his face.

"What does that mean?" Getting off the bed too, she shimmied back into her shorts and shoved the underwear drenched in love liquid into the back pocket. First, he told that he missed her, and now this.

"It means I should start typing up our prenuptial agreement. What kind of question is that?" He ran his hand over his face and let out a disgruntled breath.

She laughed. "I don't want your money, Omar. It's clear to me that you have some kind of hiccup when it comes to women and money, but please, leave me out of it. Whatever your ex-girlfriend did to you, I'm not her."

"You don't know what you're talking about." His eyes darted around the room and came back to settle on her daringly.

"Well, maybe you should see a shrink. He might help you discover certain things that you didn't know about yourself."

Walking around the bed, Omar stopped at the window and pulled the heavy curtains aside. She blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the light. The room he had chosen for himself was very Omar-like with lots of grey tones and geometrically shaped furniture.

And there they stood, his stance rigid and his jaw locked, while she stood open and willing to talk.

"Can we start over?" she asked.

"Why would you want to do that? You're better off keeping your distance from me." When he looked at her this time, his eyes were hooded, but for a moment she also caught a glimpse of vulnerability.

"You said you wanted me."

"I do. The sex was amazing. I want more." His eyes traveled down over her exposed legs and back up. And it was as if he was touching her because everywhere he looked, her skin tingled and her heartbeat accelerated.

"So?"

"I don't do girlfriends. And I don't fully trust you. The look on your face when you found out that Willem was married is all the answer I needed."

Xiomara sighed. She respected Willem because he respected her. And he had made it very clear from the start that they were to have a professional relationship only. Any romantic notions she had about him then had vaporized like steam. "He means nothing to me," she said. "It was just a shock, that's all. I had no idea he was married."

"Me neither. And I thought he was gay." Omar let out a manly chuckle, the sound deep and vibrant.

"Wow, you should do that more often." And at the lift of his eyebrow, she added, "laugh, you should laugh more. You're so much more approachable when you do that."

His face dropped, the laugh lines disappearing. "Keep your distance, Xiomara. I'm not the kind of guy you want to mess around with. I take life too seriously and I'm bound to hurt you. Not the other way around. I keep everybody at arm's length for a reason."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she regarded him coolly. "I don't know, somehow I feel like this macho persona is just a front."

"It's not," he said, sure as if her comment had deflated his ego.

Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled at him. "Okay, but that's my opinion."

"And you shouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Run your hand through your hair like that. It's fucking sexy."

Good lord. He was the sexy one. For sure. Yet she couldn't help but smile. There was something absolutely hot about the way he'd said that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Hell yeah."

So why was he still standing over there?

Oh right, she had asked him to stop, and he was taking her request seriously. Bummer. Because her heart had picked up the pace again and was going berserk in her chest. Don't even mention the curious sensation between her thighs ... because argh.

Pregnancy was turning her into a horny toad.

And yup, she needed to pee again.

Standing up she started inching toward the door, not because she wanted to leave, but because her bladder was sending alarm signals to her brain. She held on tightly to the shirt that Omar had torn straight down the middle. Sadly, because she had liked that shirt a lot. 

"Too bad you told me to keep my distance," she said.

Those hooded eyes took her in slowly. "That's right."

"Fine."

"Fine," he drawled.

Xiomara shut the door and leaned her head on it before strolling away. No, running away. Barging through her bedroom door, she made a beeline straight to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet.

Closing her eyes she reflected on how she was going to tell Omar that she was pregnant. The man didn't do girlfriends. What a jerk. That meant that the chance that he did kids was probably nil.

But she was inventive and would come up with something, whether he liked it or not.



*****

Julia Michaels - Issues

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