She's pregnant. She never tells anyone.

Once a few days had passed, and then weeks, you figured you were pretty well in the clear, especially since you didn't much figure that Kristen would fell like telling anyone about what you did to her, given her celebrity and all.

What you weren't sure about was whether or not you had actually gotten her pregnant, or at least not until the night she came crawling back to you and knocked on your door.

"Can I come in John? It's kind of important," she tells you as you open the door and see her standing there in a loose-fitting white shirt and a blue jean skirt, which seems to you to make it pretty obvious what's about to go down.

"So the bitch comes crawling back..." you taunt her as she sits down on your couch and shoots daggers at you before finally getting around to the reason why she has visited you again.

"I'm pregnant and it's yours, you bastard," she tells you, as coldly as if she was woodenly reciting one of her movie lines that you had just ridden the world of having to sit through for at least nine months.

"Well...how could anyone possibly know that if you're such a slut that you'll lay down for and have unprotected sex with anyone, Kristen?" you taunt her, knowing her baby is yours, but wanting to humiliate her a little more.

"Look...do you want me to leave, fucker? I'll walk away and you'll never see your kid ever!" she shouts as you trap her against the wall and roughly kiss her, Kristen slapping your back a few times before giving in and kissing you back as your hands go into her panties and massage her pussy.

"You're not going anywhere Kristen, and you know it," you whisper to her as you slide her skirt down and grab her hips as you make out with her, "because you and I both know I'm the best you've ever had, and soon you're going to have my baby to prove it."