And because my husband is a scholar extraordinaire, he researches every last detail and makes plans for our upcoming parenthood. As he starts lists of everything we’ll need for the baby, his vocabulary becomes an amusing mixture of medieval and baby-related terms: Cistercian, onesie, crenellation, binky, scriptorium, exersaucer.
The Words and Images conference is a resounding success, leading to a slate of new offers from universities and institutions trying to lure Dean away from King’s. We meet his ex-wife Helen for dinner one night, a nice evening that gives Dean a final sense of closure.
Summer arrives with wild, happy fervor. Sailboats float on Mirror Lake like lily pads, and both tourists and locals crowd the coffeehouses and cafés, including Wonderland. My blissfully normal pregnancy progresses without incident. By the time I ease into my second trimester, my libido kicks back into force, and Dean and I return to the pleasure of our lusty sex life.
And I just love the way my husband loves me. His kisses are like whipped cream melting into hot apple pie, like ripe, red cherries, and dark chocolate swirled with peppermint. I never dreamed that my response to Dean could be even more intense, but one brush of his mouth is enough to flood me with immediate desire. We seek each other out almost every night, both to satisfy our erotic cravings and to immerse ourselves in intimacy.
One evening I find him stretched out on the bed wearing only his boxers and his reading glasses, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he grades papers for his summer lecture course. Just the sight of my handsome professor lights a fire inside me. After a moment of admiring his rumpled hair and muscular chest, I climb onto the bed beside him. He pushes the papers aside and reaches for me with a smile, lust already brewing in his eyes.
The moment Dean’s lips touch mine, a warm, scrumptious feeling blooms inside me. He takes my face in his hands, deepening the kiss, tracing the line of my lips. I press my thighs together to ease the ache cascading through my lower body. I open my mouth and surrender to the sweep of his tongue. A moan catches in my throat as I spread my hands over the muscles of his chest.
Though Dean is especially gentle with me these days, his hunger for me burns hotter than ever. He unfastens the buttons of my shirt and pushes it off my shoulders, his eyes filling with both heat and tenderness. My heartbeat quickens as I shrug out of my bra and toss it aside, already desperate for his touch.
I’m rounder everywhere, my waist flaring to wide hips, my belly a distinct swell, my breasts full and sensitive. Dean’s breath escapes on a rush of pleasure as he palms my breasts, rubbing his thumbs across my nipples before he bends to capture one between his lips. A shock of lust jolts through me.
With a gasp, I arch against him, my knees weakening as he licks one nipple while rolling and pinching the other between his fingers. His thick hair brushes my bare skin, an exquisite tickling that sensitizes my whole body.
“Now,” I whisper, clutching at his shoulders.
He lifts his head, fondling my new curves with a growl of pure appreciation before pulling me against him. Our mouths lock together again, hot and deep. We tumble into the pillows, and I wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck, feeling his hands sliding smoothly across my body.
He takes off my pants and underwear, his gaze intense as he moves away to shed his boxers. I moan at the sight of his thick, stiff cock, so blatant and tempting that my sex tenses with the urge to have him plunge deep inside me.
I part my legs, moving back into a more comfortable position, tightening in readiness for his delicious penetration. He slides his hands to my inner thighs, pushing them apart, his shaft rubbing against my folds in a slick, easy rhythm that makes my blood burn.
I stroke my hands over my body, dipping my fingers into my cleft and back up my rounded belly to my breasts. My nipples are achingly sensitive, and one light twist drives my urgency higher. Dean’s chest heaves as he pushes his cock into me slowly, watching the pulsing shaft disappear into my slit, his hands on my spread knees.
Even saturated with lust, he’s careful not to lower himself on top of me, which means I have the pleasure of gazing at the gorgeous expanse of his body, the sweat-slick muscles of his shoulders and arms tight with strain, the heated expression on his face.
My body shifts and bounces as his thrusts increase in pace, his shaft filling me repeatedly as I arch my hips to meet every hard entry. We fall into the rhythm together, the rhythm of us, all damp skin, flexing muscles, gripping hands.
When bliss crashes over me, I clutch the bedcovers as Dean presses his fingers against my clit, his deep voice murmuring husky words of pleasure. My body is still vibrating when he moves his hands to my hips and plunges inside me with his own powerful release.