The Bad Boy's Pregnant Bride

By: Alyse Zaftig

Part I




My alarm went off, and I opened one eye. I had a girl wrapped in my arms. Fuck if I knew her name. She had long blonde hair, which looked hot, but it also was in my mouth. Ew. I spat it out. I was late to the graduation ceremony.

“You gotta go, babe.”

She opened her eyes, turned, and reached for me, but I dodged her hands neatly.

“Get out. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

She stuck out her lower lip. “But I thought we could have a repeat of last night.”

“I don’t have time, babe.” I pulled her to the side of the bed, then I slapped her ass. “Good time last night.” We’d stayed up past dawn getting to know one another.

She put her hand on my cheek and leaned in for a kiss, but I slid away from her. I didn’t do sloppy seconds. It made girls want more than I really wanted to give.


I watched her sashay away from me. I knew that I wasn’t going to fuck her again, but it was still a nice show. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and struck a pose.

“You sure?”

I nodded. “I’m late already.” I watched as she found her dress and put it on.

“You left your bra.”

“Keep it.” She winked at me. “It’s a souvenir.” Her panties were nowhere to be seen, and she put on her heels very quickly and calmly, as if she woke in a stranger’s bed every morning. She probably did.

“Bye, Chris.”

I blinked. How did she know my name? I didn’t remember much of last night. One, alcohol. Two, all the nights, clubs, and women ran together into a blur.

“What’s your name?”

“Jordana.” She winked at me again, and then she flounced out the door.

I headed into my shower to get her scent off of me. She smelled fine to me last night, but this morning, I wanted to scrape her sickly sweet scent off of my skin. Was there such a thing as whiskey goggles for your nose?

I turned on the shower and scrubbed everywhere. I should’ve been at my parents’ house already to ride with them to Laila and Trouble’s graduation. I’d text them to tell them that I was on my way.

I got dressed in one of my suits. When I was wearing one, I looked like a corporate drone, the son of a billionaire. Naked, I looked pretty different. It might have been the tats or the muscles honed from years of swimming, but girls loved to see me naked. I winked at myself in the mirror.

I combed my hair and used a little gel, and then I was ready to go.

My motorcycle wasn’t a good choice when wearing a $5,000 bespoke suit. I felt edgy, though, even though I’d fucked Jordana’s brains out last night.

I hopped into my little Lambo, a high school graduation gift from my parents, and headed towards USC’s graduation ceremony. They were so insanely long and boring, but I figured that I owed them. Plus, my dad was paying for the best restaurant in town, one of Laila’s favorites, and I didn’t want to miss that.

Champagne and Jack


I slept through the boring graduation, then Trouble proposed to Laila and all of us went to Vegas for their wedding.

After the wedding, Trouble and Laila were basically on top of each other. Our parents had said goodbye to us after the brief ceremony — and Mrs. King had gotten a DVD of the whole thing — so the four of us went to a club to celebrate. We had Moet and Dom Perignon to celebrate that Trouble and Laila were married. From the way that they looked at each other, I knew that Nora and I were just cramping their style.

“For Pete’s sake, guys. Get a room. I don’t want to see you touching my sister.”

The two of them turned to me, and Trouble’s hand was on Laila’s backside. He didn’t seem concerned about it at all. “Yeah, dude, thanks for coming to my wedding.”

He pulled Laila into his arms. She giggled as he pulled her off and said something about having his way with her.


I tried to avoid thinking about my best friend being married to my little sister. Nora and I were still in a VIP booth with two magnums of champagne.

I drank it. It was sweet and light, but it didn’t make my thoughts go away.

“Why don’t we try something a little harder? How do you feel about Jack Daniels?”