Dating : Having A Baby With My Best Friend

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ROMANCE / MARCH MADNESS CHALLENGE

We’re not married, not dating, not lovers. We’re best friends for almost twenty years, since high school. So we went with artificial insemination.

It was still weird. I was in the waiting room while Ren masturbated into a cup. He stood next to me while the doctor injected the semen into my uterus. He’s going to be with me for all the doctor’s appointments, anyway. We agreed he should be there for the beginning of it all.

It’s strange, I know. There’s nothing wrong with either of us, not any more than anyone else, we’ve just been unlucky in love. I’m twice-divorced from men who didn’t show their true colors until after the wedding. Ren always attracts the wrong kind of girl. He wants a woman to settle down and raise a family with, his girlfriends have always wanted to party until the sun rises. We’ve lived together for years, we both want kids.

I’m running out of time. Ren doesn’t want to be mistaken for his child’s grandfather. This might not be the most traditional family, but what is traditional anymore?

The pregnancy is going great. I had the all-day kind of morning sickness in the first trimester, but I work from home, and it’s faded as the weeks have passed. Second trimester feels great, and I’m even rocking a burbly little baby bump. I’m loving life.

Well, okay, I’m crying like some unhinged lunatic when Ren comes home from work. He eyes me warily. I see the wheels turning. He knows that this is probably nothing but might be something, and his sweetheart of a sister turned into a vicious beast during both her pregnancies, so he’s probably worried about doing the wrong thing and being murdered for it.

“I’m fine,” I sob. “It’s fine.”

“Hormones?” he asks, relieved.

“No.”

“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know!”

I flop onto our sectional, feeling like a whale for the first time when, seriously, the bump is the size of one too many burritos.

Ren sits at the end of the sofa to rub my feet. He’s gotten really good at foot rubs already, and I don’t even need them yet.

I kick him away, feeling even more like a whale. I’m not a whale. I don’t need foot rubs.

“Connor called me fat,” I sniffle.

“I’ll kill him,” Ren says affably, even though I know he hasn’t much cared for Connor recently.

“You were right about him. I texted him to see if we could hang out tonight, and he said he doesn’t want to canoodle with fat girls.”

Ren reclaims my feet, locking them under his arm so they can’t get away. “That’s not what he said. I know him.”

I huff and flop my arms over my head. “He said I’m too fat for him.”

Ren clicks his tongue.

“He said he was cool with hooking up until I started to show, and then it was weird.”

Ren digs his thumbs into the balls of my feet, and I grunt appreciatively. “Bear with me on this: is it possible that it wasn’t the bump itself, but the reminder that a baby is in there that bothered him? Possibly, and this is even crazier, that it’s weird to him that it’s another man’s baby?”

I glower at him. “You going out with what’s-her-name tonight?” Maybe he’s right about Connor, but I still have needs. It’d be cool if I could have the house to myself for some quality time with my little buddies in my nightstand.

He moves up to my ankles. “Oh, she’s ditched me last week, said she was tired of hearing about you. Your pregnancy.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not.” He watches my hands as it goes to my belly, a natural reflex when I feel bubbles. “May I?”

“Yep.” I get to spend all day speculating over whether it’s baby or digestion. He can take a crack at it.

I stretch my arms back over my head, and he nudges my shirt up and rests his hands on my stomach. He feels around, and I know it’s baby he’s questing for, but it’s my flesh.

My sensitive flesh.

I take a calming breath, keeping my eyes closed until he says, “I can feel her, right here.”

She’s sitting low today, so his hand is low. He’s a proud papa, This shouldn’t be arousing.

But I’ve been on fire lately.

He leans down to kiss where his hand is.

“Ren?” I whisper, feeling like an asshole for ruining his daddy bonding time. Supposedly this drive comes and goes, in another few weeks I’ll be back to normal and cool with this.

“Hmm?”

I’m sure it’s just a normal sound of questioning, but it sounds aroused. I’m losing my mind. I clamp my legs together, feeling dampness there already.

“You’re, um, starting something you’re not going to finish.”

Another hmm. Another kiss. His hand strays from babyland up to what’s still covered by my shirt.

“Ren?”

“If you tell me to stop, I will.” His fingers catch the band of my bralette, sliding under to hold my breast.

“I need this, Ren.”

He tilts into me, letting my leg feel his crotch, his thickness there.

He was thinking about this before I said anything.

He flips my shirt up so he can keep rubbing my breast while he takes the other nipple in his mouth, suckling it through the lace, releasing it to blow on the wet fabric, cooling it.

“Ren,” I whimper, squirming at the dampness between my legs.

He tugs my bralette down to pop my breasts out. “Have they gotten bigger already?”

“A little.”

“Are they really sensitive?” He drags his thumb over the dry nipple to test it, and I whimper. “I like that,” he murmurs before descending on it again.

They’re so sensitive I’m pretty sure I can orgasm from this alone, but he seals the deal digging his hand into my pants and deftly cupping two fingers into me while fiddling with my clit.

I come immediately in a great gush, but he doesn’t back down. His fingers move within me, curling into me just right to get me writhing and panting.

He releases my nipple and pulls himself up higher. “Are you going to come again?” he asks, his voice smooth as silk.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” My face scrunches up. He’s laying over one of my legs; the other pulls up to my chest.

He peeks down and says, “You’ve gone wet straight through your pants.” He does something, some little twist of his fingers, that holds me at the edge of an orgasm. “Were you thinking of Connor when you got this wet, or were you thinking of me?”

“You!” I whimper. It wasn’t the first time, either. The pregnancy has changed me, changed how I feel for him, but I didn’t want to mess things up.

“I ended it with LeAnn. She said you were all I ever thought about, and she was right.”

His lips crash into mine for a demanding kiss. Ren has always been a gentle man, but there’s none of that here. He forces his tongue into my mouth, clashing within. His fingers clash, too, digging into my pussy as his whole hand cups my mound and shakes up and down, forcing from me an orgasm like I’ve never felt before. I can’t stop the cum from pouring out of me, leaving me drenched enough that I push him away just so I can say, “I think I peed myself.”

He’s still close enough that I feel his lips curl in a grin. “You squirted. I wish I’d taken your pants off first.”

My body is shaking, little muscle spasms all over that keep me from saying that at least my pants kept me from staining the sofa.

“Do you want more?”

I don’t know if I can handle more, but he rubs his crotch on my thigh to demonstrate what he’s offering.

He leans over me, his black hair shaggy and dangling down. His lips are soft, his eyelids are heavy with lust.

Every place where we touch, just the casual of skin on skin, sings.

But my body is still pulsing. My eyelids flutter in fatigue.

“I’ll take care of myself,” he says, not a hint of irritation in his voice. “Let me get you cleaned up first.”

He carries me to my bedroom, pulls my pants off me and nudges a towel between my legs to dry me off. He goes to my dresser for fresh pants, but I stop him. “This is fine.”

He eyes my naked lower half. “Do you, ah, want to take a nap?”

I nod and take great joy in the way he tucks me in.

“Nap with me?” I ask.

He gives me a pained look.

“I’m starting to perk back up.” I reach for his crotch, stroking the steel ridge through his pants. “Maybe you have something that will put me to sleep.”

“I’ve been thinking about something lately,” he says as he kicks his shoes off and drops his pants. His words falter as I scoot to the edge of the bed to run my tongue up the whole length of his cock. “Ah…I’ve been…hmm.”

I back away, but only for a moment.

“Instead of making the guest room a nursery,” he blurts out, knowing he’s not holding me back much longer, “why don’t we keep it a guest room and make my room the nursery?”

My insides go gooey, but I’ve already had a few orgasms. I keep my cool. “Why, you don’t think you need your own bedroom anymore?”

He falters, his eyes darting between my face and my hand, still holding him. He doesn’t want to go all the way if we’re not going aaallllll the way.

I wouldn’t want to, either. “Just get in our bed, I’m tired of waiting for that dick,” I pout.

“Our bed?”

“Our bed.”