Shit, but only Lexie Walker could have a black eye and an angry gash on her eyebrow and still look beautiful.
She moved to him and Ty shifted slightly so Lexie could get in there and she did, immediately curling her fingers around his hand.
Her blue-gray eyes held his. “How are you, honey?”
He held her blue-gray eyes, they were warm, concerned, searching and he felt her lightly squeeze his hand.
That was all he was ever going to get. All he was ever going to get from Lexie Walker.
And he’d take it.
“Better now,” he answered then she proved him wrong.
She gave him a bright smile and her light shone down on him, bright, blinding, beautiful.
He took that too.
Epilogue
Catching Up
Five years later…
Forearms in the bed, my husband’s big hands spanning my hips lifting them up, my knees were inches off the bed, I’d pushed my thighs back and pressed their insides to the outsides of his as I took his driving cock.
If he wanted to take me from behind, he was so tall, his legs so long, this was how we had to do it unless he stood by the side of the bed.
I liked it, like, a lot. That power, the reminder of how big he was, the strength that was at his command. It was a huge, freaking turn on.
I was close, God, I was close, I slid an arm out in front of me, under the pillows, pressing my hand into the headboard, I tilted my ass up half an inch to get more, held on tighter with my thighs and pressed into my hand to give me leverage to push back.
Ty pulled out and dropped me to my knees.
My head shot back and my neck twisted, my mouth opening to protest but he was leaning over me, his arms circling, one at my belly, one slanting across my chest. He pulled me up on my knees and one hand immediately went to my breast, fingers rolling my nipple, the other hand moved instantly downward, finger rolling my clit.
My head fell back, colliding with him, I turned it and begged. “Want your cock back, baby.”
He didn’t respond. He never responded. He just kept doing what he wanted to do.
And it felt way nice.
Still.
My hips moved with his hand, my hand moved to cover his at my breast, my other one curled behind me and wrapped around his cock.
“Honey,” I breathed.
He didn’t stop.
I started stroking, gripping hard, pulling, sliding, moving fast.
Ty growled in his throat.
I tipped my head back to see what I could of his face but didn’t get the chance, his mouth came down on mine and his tongue darted in and out, matching my strokes on his cock.
I gripped harder and moved faster, as did my hips and his tongue.
There I was again, God, so close. I reached for it and my hand gripped tight but stopped as he gave it to me and it was so good, my entire body shook with it.
Then I was on my back, my husband on top of me, driving deep, grunting with each stroke, his hands at my hips yanking me down as he thrust up. I had nearly all of his weight. I was hazy from a really fucking good orgasm that hindered my breathing and his weight hindered it more. I didn’t care. This happened, not often, only when I wound Ty up. Therefore, I liked it, snapping his control. And he never did it long; he only did it when he was close.
And he was close.
Then he was there.
I felt it, watched it, listened to it and loved it.
He’d shoved my knees up high at his sides and I pressed them in and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he shifted his weight to a forearm in the bed, the other arm moving to curl around my lower back as his hips continued to move. He was gliding. He did this too, and often, taking me gentle after he took me hard.
I liked that too.
When our breath settled and while he was still gliding, I turned my head, found his ear with my lips and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
His body stilled, mid-glide, half-in, half-out.
Then he slid fully in and stayed there but lifted his head and caught my eyes.
“Seriously?” he rumbled.
I grinned. “Seriously.”
“Babe, we’ve been tryin’ for like, two days.”
I bit my lip not to giggle, succeeded, let it go and informed him, “More like a month.”
His eyes drifted over my head and he muttered, “Feels like two days.”
“It’s been a month, hubby.”
It hadn’t. It had been six weeks but I decided not to say that.
His eyes came back to mine. “Jesus. Your fuckin’ womb’s more fertile than the heartland.”
I felt my body shake but quelled my verbal laughter.
“Maybe it’s your swimmers,” I suggested, my voice shaking with laughter I hadn’t unleashed. “Maybe they have Mr. Humongo’s superpowers.”
Ty didn’t find anything funny. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. Instead, he bent his neck back, looked at the ceiling and said an audible prayer.
“Please, God, this time, give me a fuckin’ son.”
My body shook more.
“I’m not sure God likes the word fuck, honey,” I told him and his head dropped.
“He knows me, He’s answered my prayers before and trust me, mama, he doesn’t give a shit.”