Ch. Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 67 Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 67

Chapter 1 

Please, stop. I can’t take it anymore.” 

The concert was packed, the crowd a solid wall of bodies. 

A man stood right behind me, constantly pressing against my backside. 

My choice of outfit made it worse-a miniskirt that barely covered my hips, with only a thong underneath. 

The man actually lifted my skirt and pressed hard against my cheeks. 

The atmosphere grew hotter and louder. The crowd surged, someone shoved from the front, and I was 

pushed back a step. 

My whole body went rigid. Something had slipped inside. 

My name was Chloe Bennett, and I was a devoted fangirl. 

Hoping to catch my idol’s eye, I’d gone all out-dolled up to look sweet and eye-catching from head to toe. 

I wore a low-cut top that left most of my pale cleavage exposed, swaying with every move. 

Below that was a miniskirt that hugged my hips, paired with sexy white stockings that wrapped tightly 

around my legs. 

But when I got there, reality hit. 

The concert was packed. I was carried along by the crowd and had almost no control over where I moved. 

A superstar would never notice someone like me. 

I craned my neck and screamed, “Marry me!” 

My scream didn’t reach the star at all. Instead, it attracted a total pervert. 

Right after I yelled, I became aware of a man pressed close behind me, his body brushing against mine now 

and then. 

At first, I didn’t think much of it. 

With so many people packed together at a concert, a little accidental contact was normal. 

But something felt wrong. I kept feeling something hard pressing against my butt. 

I assumed it was his hand, maybe placed there by accident and bumped by me. 

I even turned around politely and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” 

The man paused, then gave me a sly grin. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” 

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But when I turned back, he started pressing against me again, even harder than before. 

My focus was still glued to the stage, and I couldn’t be bothered with him. 

He grew bolder by the second. He actually lifted my skirt and pressed himself tightly against my round hips. 

Underneath, I only had on a flimsy thong. Noting covered my cheeks. 

My skin was now pressed directly against his fingers, with no distance at all. 

That was when I realized something was very wrong. 

Those fingers were scorching hot, and far too thick. 

That wasn’t a finger at all. 

A jolt of panic shot through me. 

In twenty years of living, this was the first time I had ever been molested by a man. 

A wave of terror surged through me, and every instinct screamed at me to get away. 

But there were tens of thousands of people at the concert. People were packed in on all sides. There was 

nowhere to move, nowhere to step. 

I had no escape. 

All I could do was tense up, clamping my body tight in a desperate fight against the panic. 

By some awful coincidence, my cheeks clenched around the man’s “finger.” 

A strange sensation shot through me, and my face flushed red in an instant. 

What terrified me was that it didn’t feel unpleasant. It felt… weirdly good. 

A dangerous thread of anticipation would its way through my chest. 

The man behind me seemed to take it as a signal. 

He thrust harder, settling into a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

I was an innocent college student, yet I was being toyed with by a stranger, right here in public. 

Shame washed over me. I wanted to cry, but my throat closed up, trapping the sound inside. 

To make it worse, the thin material was being pushed insistently inward sending itchy waves through me- 

like ants crawling under my skin. 

A muffled sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. 

It was so humiliating that I had to tense every nerve, forcing my voice down. 

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The deafening music and screaming all around us swallowed everything. 

Everyone was focused on the stage. No one noticed anything wrong with me. 

That intense sensation kept going deeper, as if it were touching the most hidden part of my heart. 

I bit my lip till I tasted blood, cold sweat snaking down my spine. 

My mind teetered between raw humiliation and a pleasure I couldn’t name. 

If this kept up, I was going to shatter. 

I turned my head desperately and looked at the man behind me. 

“Please,” I begged, my voice a strained whisper. “Stop… I’m gonna break…” 

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