HIS BABY TO BEAR - ELEVEN

C H A P T E R E L E V E N

He began to speak, but the words died on his mouth before he could finish them. I was missing you. It's far too melodramatic. It was only one night. Yes, it had been a fucking amazing night, but he had no reason to believe she was in half as much trouble as he was. And, once again, he wasn't supposed to be talking to her, but when he saw that guy put his hand on her, he couldn't help himself.

It was as though his legs carried him across the club on their own, fully avoiding the difficult route between muscles and brain. And by the time he realized what he was doing, he could feel the man going slack in his hands, battling to maintain his lucidity. Jerome might as well have killed the fucker if she hadn't stopped him.

And he wouldn't have changed his mind for the world.

"How are you doing?"

he eventually inquired, embarrassed at how trite that sounded.

"You look fantastic in that! Raven shrieked, taking a sip of her wine cooler and grabbing Zayrah's.

She almost spilled it over Raven's ruby-red dress as she reached for it. She took a tentative drink in the mirror while looking at herself. If she had to have an opinion on anything, she did appear to be competent. Zayrah inspected herself fiercely from one side to the other.

"It's all right," she answered noncommittally, her smile hidden behind her hand as Raven's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Okay? OKAY?! So you know, that's an original Raven Gomez song. One of these isn't available to everyone. So that we're all on the same page, let's have a look. Good to hear. I'd hate you to miss all the great things Batangas has to offer," he quipped dryly, trying to make some space in his head for anything that wasn't the uncontrollable urge to taste her sweet pussy.

He was rock hard in his jeans and he could only thank the shitty lighting for the fact that she wasn't intimately aware of that yet.

"You bet. Here for the scenery and the good wine, not because some faceless corporation planted me here and told me to be Zayrah Magtanggol."

"The hell kind of a name is Magtanggol, anyway?" Jerome laughed, relieved that he still possessed the capability to do that. Not all was lost yet, it seemed.

"That's what I said," Libby said, smirking.

It was right there. That grin. Back in that small cabin in Manila, she'd made that grimace at him when he dived for her. The one thing that would truly drive him insane. He mentally bid farewell to his feeling of honor and duty, opting instead for the woman. At the very least, for the time being.

Jerome drew Libby closer to him by slipping his hand around her waist. As her soft body gave against his and her hands rested on his chest, exactly where they were supposed to be, he let out a groan of approval. He offered her a chance to back up, complain, and scream her lungs out at him. She would have done all three if he had given her a second longer, but she didn't.

His tongue immediately invaded her mouth as he kissed her hard. His mind was whirled by her flavor. He bit her lower lip with his hips pressed into hers, growling as he did so. She said, "And thank the spirits above." Her tongue lapping against his, her hands fisting around the fabric of his shirt and tugging him lower so she could kiss him harder, deeper, she kissed him back with a cry.

Of course, he complied. How could he not, when his entire soul had been devoured by thoughts of this unattainable, lovely woman, and now fate had bestowed upon him the opportunity to taste her once more? Even if it was only for a few minute, he knew it would be taken away from him.

Heat danced off their bodies as he claimed her mouth, licking, biting, kissing. They were standing right next to a fire exit that led out of the club and without a second thought, he unlatched it and slammed it shut, effectively cutting anyone off from exiting from the bar. No one had come in from the other direction so Jerome could hope that they had the good decency not to for a while longer. Not that he cared at this point.

"Fuck, you're hot," he hissed, moving from her lips to her neck and then down to her deep cleavage, gorgeously inviting in that low-cut dress of hers.

He could recall every curve, valley, and dip. He felt her nails scrape over his scalp, whimpers on her lips, as her hands curled in his short hair. He could have drowned in the fire flowing from her with one hand cupping her sex. He was powerless to stop himself. Instead of regulating his desire, he pushed it forward, allowing it to have complete reign over him.

Jerome moved his palm up the silk length of her stockings without hesitation, liking the way the lace terminated at mid-thigh and he could feel her clear, smooth flesh beneath his touch from there. He remembered every curve, every valley and dip. Her hands coiled in his short hair and he felt her nails scrape across his scalp, whimpers on her lips. One hand cupping her sex, he could have drowned in the fire emanating from her. He couldn't help himself. Instead of controlling his need, he pushed it forward, gave it free rein over him.

Jerome slipped his hand under her dress without hesitation, moving up the silk length of her stockings, loving the way the lace ended at mid-thigh and he could feel her clear, soft skin under his touch from there on.

He pumped in with his fingers again and again, leaving her no respite, no time to ponder, no chance to rationalize. He wanted her to explode around his fingers, twisting in passion and screaming her head off, just like she had in that cabin.

"Jerome, we shouldn't," she exclaimed, writhing pitifully away from his touch but only succeeding in making him stroke into her quicker.

He hissed, his lips inches from hers, "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop." "Honey, do whatever you want." If you ask, I'll fuck you right here. I don't give a damn if somebody sees us."

A breathy moan followed, almost causing his cock to explode out of his jeans. He wanted nothing more than to immediately fill her with his length, but he was ready to wait. At the very least, this time.

As she writhed and bucked against him, her juices coated his palm, all rationale vanished and was replaced with a nice, hard finger-fucking. Libby clutched to his shoulder, her cheeks flushed with a seductive glow. Her eyes were half-closed, and he released go when he sensed her contracting around his fingers. Every thrust almost entirely extended his fingers before sinking back in, causing her to stretch around them. When she crested, he scissored his fingers inside of her, hissing against her ear, and he didn't want to stop.

Her skin reflected the blue light, giving her a ghostly aspect. Jerome couldn't tell if he was hallucinating the whole thing.

Libby screamed into his shoulder and shook like she was in the middle of an earthquake. His fingers were merely there to keep her filled, his thumb still gently caressing her clit, as he steadily slowed down his rhythm. Every slight provocation elicited a new spasm from her. Libby gasped for a breath, finally lifting herself off Jerome's shoulder, and Jerome chuckled.

Her hazel eyes were lustful, and her lips were scarlet from kisses and lipstick, slightly parted now in her post-orgasmic pleasure. Before raising his palm to his lips, Jerome moved away from her and delicately arranged her underwear over her mound. Libby stood there, surprised and aroused, as he licked her secretions off his fingers. She appeared to be undecided about whether she should be upset with him or simply kneel and return the favor.

Jerome was fine with either option. As long as it meant spending more time with her, I was fine with it.

"You bastard," she growled, but she didn't mean it as a punch.

Heavy fists banged on the escape, muffled voices screaming something about it having to be unlocked, while Libby fell against the wall. Jerome was unconcerned. All he cared about was that Libby was with him, and that she'd been brought back to him by some strange twist of fate.

With a grin, he said, "At your service." "How about we get out of here before something really horrible happens?" "How about we get out of here before something really bad happens?"

"Like what, exactly?" In the name of my honor, you'll try to choke someone to death once more? "

"Sure, if that's what gets you going."

Jerome winked, and Libby, despite her best efforts, burst out laughing halfway through her stare. After eighteen months, Jerome felt like he could breathe again, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He took her hand in his and dragged her forward, pulling her out of the corner that he would remember fondly.

"But," Libby said, "my friend."

While her lips were expressing one thing, she kept up with Jerome as he took her out of the club's back exit and into the warm but fresh Batangas air.

"She's a grown girl, she'll take care of herself."

The light from the nearby pubs made it slightly darker than noon, and Jerome's eyes rapidly adjusted. He chose a path at random and began going in that direction, Libby followed behind him with some trepidation.

"And where do you think we're heading now?" " she inquired after they had been walking for a while.

"Home."

"Are you a local?"

"No, your house," says Jerome

As she processed that particular piece of information, Jerome could feel her stiffening and her step stuttering. He couldn't stop himself from smirking a little.

"Do you have any idea where I live?"

"No, but I have a feeling you'll show me."

His pulse was hammering beneath all that bravado, like a speeding train barreling down the tracks, ready to derail and detonate at any minute. He had no idea what he was going to accomplish or how he would go about doing it. They'd only spent one night together, and she might as well have been unconcerned about it. However, the way she kissed him back and melted over his fingers led him to believe it wasn't totally true. So tomorrow is fucked. He was going to bask in the idea that something had reunited him with the woman he'd been fantasizing about.

He was so ecstatic about it that he didn't even notice the chilly shiver that ran down his spine as a set of evil eyes followed him and Libby down the street.

Trouble seemed to follow him everywhere he went.