Wyatt stretches me, filling me with his hardness. Pressure builds in my core and spreads a glorious heat through my arms and legs. His hand at my shoulder pulls me against him roughly. Again and again. He’s rough and demanding. There is no softness in this. He grunts and moans and curses under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echo from behind me. His other hand is on my clit, rubbing in circles. Slow at first and then fast and unyielding. It’s all I can do to keep my body up, but then he withdraws completely. Cool air hits my wet, swollen pussy, leaving me throbbing and shaky and breathless. He roars back in so hard I think he might break me. My arms give out, but the arm at my shoulder bears my weight, keeping me in place. His fingers pinch at my clit, and I lose it completely. My pussy clamps down on him with such ferocity that I’m amazed he’s still able to move.
“Milk my dick, baby,” he says breathlessly as he fucks me with his iron cock, never letting up and not pausing to make sure he’s not killing me in the process. My arms and legs tense up before shaking wildly as my orgasm rips through me. At the height of it, I can’t even breathe. My face reddens from lack of oxygen, and when I finally get my lungs working again, I’m pretty sure my face is flushed and purple. Sweat beads at my scalp and trails down my forehead, catching around my eyes and mixing with my tears. I’m not crying, not really anymore.
My body just shakes and shivers, and I’m not in control of anything. One more thrust and he changes angles, removing his hand from my shoulder and shoving my face into the bed roughly. I can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t think my lungs work anyway. He hits me exactly where I need him and twists my clit with a shocking roughness that blankets me in nothingness. I lose time, and the only thing I feel is his warm seed filling me as a hot liquid blasts my thighs and the bed and my man. Wyatt grips me harder, taking everything I’ve got as I greedily demand everything he can give me.
When we come down, he pulls out and flips me over. My heart sinks as he leaves the bed. He doesn’t go far—just to the en suite bathroom where he runs water over a washcloth and brings it back, cleaning me up like I’m something precious. When he’s done, he climbs back onto the bed and pulls me up against him. I wrap my arms over his on my belly, holding tightly to him, like if I don’t he might float away. We lie like that, not saying a word and holding on to one another, until exhaustion overtakes Wyatt and he’s on the verge of sleep.
Just when I think he’s completely out, one hand grips my belly in a way that makes me nervous. My body’s changed after having kids— especially the second one— with my belly being softer and more rounded. He places a soft kiss just below my ear on my neck.
“When you’re ready, I want another one.” My face heats and I have to beat back the excitement that flows through me. Before I got pregnant with Zander, he talked about wanting kids. It was always a someday, but then Baby Z came along and Wyatt was so fucking happy it scared me to death. I should be scared now, doubtful even. But in the depths of my soul, I can’t lie.
I want another one, too.
CHAPTER 18
October 2015
6 months to Mancuso’s downfall
“Pass the chocolate.” I wave my hand at the arrangement of small paper plates with wedding cake samples on them. There were nine samples when we started, but now we’re down to five. Mindy Mercer— the bride-to-be— has already picked the one she wants, so I’m not sure why we’re sampling cakes like our opinion matters. The whole thing was very last minute, but I don’t turn down free cake. These bitches don’t let cake go to waste, either. They’re obviously my people.
Alex, Ruby’s daughter, slides the plate over to me with a soft smile. I smile right back and then divert my attention to the little slice of heaven. Still, I notice the way she’s watching Piper intently. I barely get my fork into the slice before Piper’s chubby little hand lands right in the middle and grabs a gooey handful of cake.
With a nod of appreciation, I watch my girl’s eyes light up when the cake hits her tongue. “Get it, baby.”
She’s already a mess from the last piece we sampled, but I’m riding way too high on my dream come true to care. Eight weeks of early morning love making before we have breakfast with the kids. In our house. In the house Wyatt built for us. Every day has felt like a dream with few exceptions. Piper and I wave our boys off as Wyatt drives Zander to school. The first few days after we moved into the house, Wyatt would come home and we would try to get some alone time. It never worked. Piper would scream and cry her temperamental little head off until he gave up. The last time we tried for a post-breakfast fuck session, he was the one to stop it. Instead of crying for me like she normally does, she screamed out for her daddy. And fuck if I’ve never seen my man abandon pussy so quick before. After that he said we couldn’t let her cry it out anymore. And that morning he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I mean it. Love the kids we got, but I want another one. Not sure I’ll ever be done making babies with you.”
I’m not ready and won’t be for a damn long time, so I said nothing. But fuck if those words didn’t make my entire week. I heard them when I’d fall asleep at night and thought of it every single time he’d make funny faces at our daughter. It wasn’t until a week ago that I realized how much I want another baby, but how awful the timing is, and how reckless we would be to get pregnant again at this point. So I shut it down and stopped letting myself fantasize about it.