She’d often admired the beauty of a woman’s body carrying a child. The way their flesh expanded, creating a temple for a growing, unborn life, awed her. But as she stared at her reflection, Emily couldn’t find any trace of beauty. She brought her hands to her stomach and smoothed them over her widened hips. The fact that she hadn’t reached the halfway point of her pregnancy only made her realize she was half the size she’d be once she gave birth.
Through the reflection, Emily watched Olivia come up behind her. “I look horrible,” Emily whispered, totally convinced that was the reason Gavin was withholding sex. “I’m going to look like the Pillsbury Doughboy by the time I give birth.”
Olivia placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You look beautiful, friend. And if the Pillsbury Doughboy looked as good as you will, he’d bake a tray of cookies in celebration.”
A small smile touched Emily’s mouth. “You know that wasn’t funny, right?”
Olivia shrugged. “Eh. I usually hit them better than that. Give me some credit. The Doughboy’s hard to work with.”
Emily’s smile faded as she stared at herself. Her mind took her back to a conversation she and her mother had a few months before finding out she was sick. Emily was home on break from school, and they were eating breakfast together. It was as if her mother sensed something bad was looming. She started talking about her relationship with Emily’s grandmother, who’d passed away a few months before. Emily felt a pang in her heart as she listened to her mom speak of memories with her mother. Some light laughter and many tears later, she looked at Emily, her eyes distant. She told Emily if there ever came a time she wasn’t there, to just always know she was. A mother’s intuition she may not be around much longer.
She hadn’t understood the significance that conversation on a warm June morning, in the kitchen of a home wrapped in ill and sweet memories, would hold almost a year later. Emily couldn’t help but fear the impact of it all. She was about to have her first child, and though her mother might be watching, she wouldn’t be there in the flesh. The gatekeeper to all of her childhood memories, whether good or evil, wouldn’t see Emily’s baby’s eyes. She’d never shower Emily’s child in the love only a grandmother could. She wouldn’t be there to hold Emily’s hand and walk her through the steps of what it took to be a mother. As a tear fell from her eye, Emily pushed her hands through her hair. She took another look in the mirror at the mother she was about to become.
Her road, though streaked with layers of happiness, was also paved with longing only her mother could replace.
Heavy sleet pelting the bedroom window like thousands of drumming fingers roused Emily from a deep sleep. She squinted her eyes open only to find Gavin scratching his bare stomach, his tongue moistening his beautifully etched mouth as he slept peacefully. She tried desperately to catch her missing breath. A gnawing ache grew between her legs, her body reacting to him in the only way it ever knew how. It needed him.
She needed him. Needed to touch, taste, and feel him. In her. Over her. Below her. No matter what, she wanted him and couldn’t wait any longer. The air, lightly perfumed with his cologne, dug into all her senses. Her core tightened in response to his soft breathing, the low, humming cadence increasing her want. She tried in vain to stop, but when he turned, the comforter slipped from his body, exposing his glorious hip bone. She was done for. Hunger exploded in her belly.
She bit her lip, sat up, and stripped the black silk camisole from her body. Her black lace panties followed. Like a moth impossibly drawn to a flame, and with careful fingers, she slid the comforter away from his naked flesh. He stirred lightly, a deep groan rumbling in his chest, but he didn’t wake. Emily swallowed, her craving for every inch of his iron clad golden skin filling her with desperation close to that of a madwoman. Her pulse, along with her breath, quickened as she slithered down the bed.
On her knees in front of his feet, she deftly spread his legs and swooped in for the kill. Curling her fingers around his semi-hard cock, she took him greedily into her mouth. She heard him moan, and his muscled body straining upward only fueled her desire. Sucking harder, she tried to satisfy her thirst for him as she licked each heavily veined inch from root to tip. God, he tasted amazing. The saltiness of his liquid silk combined with the flavor of his skin had her head bobbing reverently, her hand moving up and down each time she pulled him in.
Then he awoke.