Expecting Him Read Online Free Page A

straitjacket, and he holds me quietly. He lets me fight and swear at him until I am limp and exhausted in his embrace. Even then, he won't let me go. I will never tell him how grateful I am for it. Deep down, I don’t ever want him to let me go. Not truly.
    His sinful lips move in the damp curls at my temple. "Tell me to go." The kisses he traces down my cheek, nuzzling into my neck nearly break me. I want to cry and shout my frustrations. I need to push my anger out and on to him.
    Immediate ly, I want to tell him to go. Instead, I turn and look into his eyes. I love him in this moment. His look is tender, so very loving. His dark hair is wet with sweat, and his five o’clock shadow makes his lean jaw look rough and weathered. One last time I ask him, “Why would you do that to me? Say those awful things…”
    Again, he ignores my request and brushes a soft kiss on my bruised lips. “You wanted it. Your soaked cunt is proof. The way you lay here lax in my arms, a sated and trembling mess of a sex kitten with my come drenching you between your thighs is proof you were begging for it.”
    "Go, you bastard! Get out. I want you out of here now!"
    He exhales very slowly for a moment. His snug arms across my limbs depart all too quickly, but I yank away from him at once as he sits up, and curl into the fetal position on my bed.
    "I will," he promises smoothly. "But first I have something for you. Consider it a gift of sorts."
    I lift my head guardedly to watch him rise, and to my utter degradation he draws a thin leather wallet out of his back pocket of his discarded jeans and searches in it for a few folded bills that he tosses to land on the mattress next to me.
    The lighting in the room is dim, so I rub the texture between thumb and fingers. It is wrong, and I blink as I focus on the paper and confirm that it's not bills of any sort.
    Sitting up straight now, I ask, "What is this?"
    Patiently and unenthusiastically, he replies, "Look at it. You tell me what you think it is." He began getting dressed, covering up his muscled body from my eager eyes. I pulled my gaze from him and looked down at what I held in my hands.
    I unfold the documents in my possession, turning so I can see them in the light from the hall. "I don't—I don't know what I'm looking at."
    He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he glances down the hallway at the closed door that is my son's room. By some crazy miracle, he hasn't woken up.
    "They’ re test results…"
    I can feel the blood drain from my face as my heart sinks with the weight of the world, shoving it down into my stomach.
    If he tells me he's got some sort of STD I’ll kill him.
    "… of a sperm analysis," he continues, “…two, actually. Completed six months apart."
    I scowl, skeptical of the two slips of paper, and see the dates printed in each corner. January and June—of 2010. I look up at him, wide eyed with the wonder of this new information. He meets my scrutiny with a sneer.
    "The results on both of those tests were a zero percent sperm count, which is the anticipated result—after a vasectomy."
    My heart is slamming in my chest and a confused flush spreads across my cheeks. "How do I know these are real, that you’re not just continuing your twisted mind fuck with me again?"
    He smirks at my suspicion, and there's something perhaps a little sad in his expression. "Keep those and call that number in the morning. I've given them my permission to reveal the facts to you. They'll tell you whatever you want to know."
    My face grows hotter. He has told them to anticipate my call. This was his plan from the beginning. To fuck with my mind. To shatter my resistance and heighten my shame.
    "I can't get you pregnant , baby. I never could." The light from the hall makes long shadows on his face, with that wicked, sullen little smile jerking on his lips. "He's your husband’s son. Happy Birthday, Ana darling." He leaned over and kissed my mouth. Still shocked, my mouth is moving but I