Chapter 8: Ripped By My Roommate’s Dad(8)

~Maya~

Fuck I missed my period

And I’ve been waking up with nausea.

And Dean?

Dean already knows.

He watches me throw up in the sink every morning.

And he hasn’t said a fucking word.

~~~

I swear I wasn’t trying to freak out. I wasn’t trying to panic or spiral or cry in the bathroom like some teen movie stereotype, but oh my God, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t breathe.

My hands were shaking again and not the good kind this time. Not the sex-drunk, Daddy-just-fucked-me-stupid kind.

This was different. This was real. This was holy fuck, I think I might be pregnant kind of panic, and I couldn’t even scream because Kayla was downstairs watching TV and I didn’t want her to hear anything.

I had the test on the sink.

Two of them, actually. Because I didn’t trust one and I didn’t trust myself and I needed confirmation from every goddamn direction, and guess what? Both said the same thing.

Positive.

Double lines. Thick. Pink. Unforgiving. Clear as fucking day.

And I stared at them like they were lying.

Like maybe if I looked hard enough, the second line would fade.

But it didn’t fade. It just sat there. Bold as hell. Loud. Smug. Screaming at me in silence like, Yeah, bitch. You let him cum inside you over and over again like a dumb little slut and now look what happened.

I dropped to the floor.

Just sat there in the middle of the bathroom, legs bent, forehead on my knees, still in the stupid little T-shirt I wore to bed and nothing underneath, and I felt… I don’t even know what I felt.

Everything. Nothing. My whole body was hot and cold at the same time, my stomach was tight, my chest was aching, and there was this weird part of me that was happy. Like, actually happy. Which made me want to slap myself in the face.

Because I was eighteen.

And my best friend’s dad had been fucking me raw in secret for weeks.

And now I was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

His baby.

And I didn’t even know if he’d be mad or happy or if he’d disappear or if he’d punish me for not telling him sooner or if he’d pull me onto his lap and say, “Good girl,” and kiss my stomach like it was the best thing I’d ever given him.

And that made me cry harder.

I covered my face with my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking into my thighs, and I whispered, “What the fuck am I gonna do,” like maybe someone would answer me.

But someone did answer.

Because before I could even wipe my face, before I could shove the test back in the box and hide the evidence and pretend none of this happened, I heard the door open behind me.

And I froze.

Like full-body, spine-locking, heart-stopping froze.

Because I knew that sound.

I knew that shadow.

I knew that scent.

And I didn’t even have to look up to know it was him.

Dean.

Maddox.

Daddy.

He stepped inside like he already knew what I’d done. Like he didn’t need to ask. Like he’d been waiting for me to realize it myself.

And when I finally looked up—eyes puffy, cheeks wet, knees pulled to my chest—he just stood there in the doorway like a fucking storm wearing a black shirt and sweatpants and that same expressionless face that always made my stomach twist.

He looked down at me.

Then at the tests.

Then back at me.

And I thought maybe he was going to yell. Maybe he was going to grab me and shake me and ask if I was insane or if I’d done it on purpose or if I’d told anyone or if I wanted to keep it.

But no.

He just closed the door. Clicked the lock. Walked across the bathroom in slow, measured steps, crouched in front of me, and lifted my chin with one hand until I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“You’re mine now,” he said.

That’s it.

That’s all he said.

No questions. No threats. No doubts. Just that. Just those three fucking words that slammed into my chest like a car crash and made my heart ache and my throat clench and my pussy throb in the middle of all the panic.

“I’ve been yours,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You’ve had me this whole time.”

He shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said. “I’ve fucked you. I’ve used you. I’ve filled you. But now? Now I own you. Fully. Every part of you. That body, that mouth, that cunt—mine. This baby? Mine. Your future? Mine. You don’t make another decision without me. You don’t speak to another man. You don’t even think about walking away.”

I moaned.

Actually moaned.

Right there. On the floor. Crying and shaking and terrified and somehow turned the fuck on because why the fuck was this so hot?

My thighs squeezed together and I felt his baby inside me and I started crying all over again.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to trap you or do anything stupid, I just—I didn’t even realize it until a few days ago and I’ve been sick and I missed my period and I was gonna tell you, I swear I was, I just didn’t know how and then I saw the tests and—”