New York Nights
Page 68

“I’ll definitely fax your letter...” I drew her lip into my mouth and squeezed her ass. “After the bathroom.”
She tried to dash away one last time, but I pinned her to the wall and kissed her until her body went limp.
Pulling away as she gasped for air, I lifted her leg around my waist—sliding my cock inside of her inch by inch.
Her arms went around my neck as she tilted her hips up, as I gripped her sides and pulled her into me.
“When we get back from dinner...” I whispered and skimmed a hand down her stomach and to her clit, swirling my thumb around it. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore...”
She groaned and dragged her nails across my skin. “Ahhh...”
“Now that you’re quitting, I’m going to be inside of you every day...”
“Andrew...”
I felt her body tensing and lifted her other leg around my waist—pressing her back further into the tile. “Every day...”
Her pussy clutched my cock tighter and throbbed against me, so I held her taut and watched as she reached her climax— as she completely let go.
Biting her bottom lip, I held her close to me as another orgasm made its way through her body. “Stop fighting it...”
“I’m....I’m not...”
“Aubrey...” I looked into her eyes as I came seconds after her, and the two of us remained entwined for several seconds as the shower’s water poured over us.
“I hate you sometimes...” she whispered, motioning for me to let go of her legs.
“I love you, too.” I gently set her down.
I grabbed a loofah, and slowly ran it over her body—pausing when I reached her stomach. “Did you go to the doctor yet?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just took a test...I’m going there tomorrow.”
“We’re going there tomorrow.”
She looked as if she was going to say something else, but she simply moaned as I pressed the loofah against her thighs.
“Here,” she said, grabbing a different loofah when I was finished. “Let me—”
“No.” I gripped her wrist and pointed to the shower bench. “You can sit.”
“What?”
“Go sit down.”
“Seriously?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re not going to let me return the favor because I’m pregnant? Is that what this is?”
“Yes.” I washed my chest. “That’s exactly what this is.”
She sighed. “Andrew...”
“I can’t lose another one.” I looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you doing anything at all.”
Nodding slowly, she stepped back and sat on the bench, keeping her gaze locked on mine.
When I was finished, I turned off the water and wrapped her in a towel. Clasping her hand, I led her into our bedroom.
“Do I need to put a cover sheet over your letter?” I asked.
“No, but if you’re in an accommodating mood, I would prefer if we skipped your faculty dinner tonight.”
“That’s not happening.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed her sheet off the headboard. “You have plenty of time to get ready for it. I’ll be back.”
Ignoring her deep sighs, I left the room and headed into my home office. It, too, was covered in frames of her ballet shows. And, much to my annoyance, she’d placed a picture of us kissing right above my desk—a picture that always found its way there no matter how many times I placed my framed law degree there.
I turned on the fax machine and pulled out the tray, stopping once I actually read her letter:
Dear Mr. Ashcroft, staff of NYCB, and current cohort,
 
I am writing this letter to officially resign as a principle dancer from the company. As we discussed previously, I would like to take on a more instructive role for at least two years, in which I will be pursuing some personal dreams of mine. I have full intent on returning to the stage once the time is right, but at this current moment, I need to do what is best for me and my future family.
 
—Aubrey Everhart
 
 
Aubrey
I adjusted my seatbelt and looked over at Andrew. “How long are you planning to stay at this event tonight?”
“Until it’s over.”
I rolled my eyes, thinking about the last dull faculty dinner we’d attended. Half of the awardees were sleep an hour into the ceremony.
“Are you nominated for an award or something?” I asked.
“What makes you think someone would ever nominate me for an award?”
“Seeing as though you somehow managed to win ‘Professor of the Year’ three times in a row, I’m pretty sure it’s not impossible.”
“No.” He smiled. “The Professor of the Year banquet is next week.”
“And tonight is?”
“Does it matter?” He placed his hand on my exposed thigh, rubbing it gently. “I want you to be here. When do you plan on telling your parents that you’re pregnant?”
“Tomorrow...Are you going to tell anyone?”
He was silent for a few minutes. “Jessica.”
“Jessica?” I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said. “She’s a good friend.”
I couldn’t deny that. Even though she once had an unrelenting crush on him, she’d been nothing but supportive of us since we moved to New York. She called once a month to say hello, but to also ask him for dating advice. She even asked me sometimes.
Pulling the car into a parking garage, he looked over at me. “You stopped taking birth control months ago, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve talked about wanting to have a child more than you’ll ever admit...”
“I told you I wanted you to have a career, to achieve everything you wanted first.”
“I have,” I said as he put the car in park.
He cupped my face in his hands and stared at me, looking deep into my eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but there was a sudden knock on the window.
The valet.
He sighed and leaned back, letting a man in a white tuxedo take the keys as another man helped me out of the car.
“Enjoy your night,” the two of them said in unison.
Andrew pulled me close and we strolled along a walkway that was adorned with bright lights. As we approached the glass entrance of the restaurant, a host nodded at us.
“Good evening, Mr. Hamilton,” he said as he opened the doors. “Miss Everhart.”
“Good evening,” I said, wondering how he knew my name.
I felt Andrew kissing my hair as we stepped into a dimly lit room where patrons were sitting around white clothed tables.
He led me over to a spot by the windows and pulled out my chair.
I looked around the room, noticing that the usual signs for an over-the-top faculty meet and greet were nowhere to be found. None of the faces looked familiar, and there was no special mention of anything NYU related on the restaurant’s menu.
As I turned to face Andrew again, to ask him what was going on, I noticed he’d placed a small black box at the center of the table.