Stepping out of the shower, I lean over the vanity and wipe my hand across the steam fogging the mirror and stare at my reflection. I didn’t look so translucent anymore, the color returning to my complexion. The first trimester of my pregnancy was trying on me, and the first eight weeks of the second as well, spending most days hunched over the toilet, releasing anything I put into my mouth. The morning sickness has faded and I’m starting to look like my old self, still pale compared to Jack’s olive skin but I don’t look like I am knocking on death’s door. I’m still waiting to recognize that glow everyone seems to think I have. It’s probably a myth but I’m still hoping to see it.
My eyes travel downward as I turn to my side and drop my hand to my tiny belly. I narrow my eyes, hoping to find the slightest change from yesterday, or the day before that, desperate for more evidence of the life Jack and I created. The doctor has assured us that he or she is growing just fine and any day now my pants won’t fit me. Who is excited to buy maternity clothes? This girl right here.
“Come on lil’ Parrish. Mommy wants to be able to show you off.”
I bet he gets his hard head from his daddy.
He.
I don’t know why but I have this feeling we’re going to have a son, another little boy for Jack to love, a second chance for the man who lost his first son so tragically. Our son won’t take the place of Jack Jr., he’ll be his own person, with his own spot carved in our hearts and Jack Jr. will always have his place too. He’ll be a part of this new journey even if only in spirit and memory.
I lift my arm and stare at the puckered flesh that travels down my body, a reminder I survived a tragedy too. The rawness of my skin isn’t an angry shade of red anymore, slightly fading to pink, but always visible. Reaching for the scarring cream, I slowly work it over the keloids that mark my flesh. I used to hide from my scars, believed my life was over because of the ordeal I had gone through and then I met Jack. He claimed my scars as his own and as they slowly fade in color, they also fade from my mind. I don’t let them dictate who I am and I don’t hang onto them anymore. They’re a part of me but I am not defined by them any longer.
The door behind me opens and the cold air from the bedroom creeps into the steam-filled bathroom, setting a chill through the air. I feel goosebumps rise across my marred flesh and lift my eyes to Jack’s.
Silently, he struts up behind me and my hand freezes against my scarred skin as he wraps his fingers around my wrist and brushes my hand away from my scars. He reaches around me and takes the tube off the counter top and squeezes some into the palm of his hand before tracing the scars with his own hand, working the ointment into my skin.
Jack bends his head and presses his open mouth to my shoulder as his fingers glide over the scars he has memorized. He knows every ridge, every curve—all the damage left behind from the fire.
“Mine,” he growls against my skin. His teeth graze my shoulder before lifting his eyes to mine. “All fucking mine,” he hisses. His hands are greasy from the lotion but continue to slide down my sides until they take hold of my hips and pull me against his naked frame.
I feel the thickness of his erection press against my ass and I press into it, earning a deep, guttural groan from him in response.
“Goddamn,” he grunts, spinning me around with a twist of my hips so we are face to face. I clench my thighs as I stare into the dark pools of his eyes and before I can process the ache vibrating throughout my body, Jack grabs my ass, hoisting me onto the counter and spreads my legs wide to fit between them.
I grip the edge of the vanity as he arches my back and leans my head against the mirror. “Been too long since I had my fill of you, Sunshine,” he growls, tugging me closer so my ass hangs over the edge of the vanity.
“You had me last night,” I remind him breathlessly.
“Never enough,” he mutters, running the heel of his hand between my breasts, down my stomach, pausing just over my navel. Bending his head, he presses his lips to my belly before finally resting his hand over my pussy. Arching against his hand, I am desperate for him to give me more, to spread me apart and shove his fingers inside of me.
A wicked grin works his lips as he brushes my wet hair from my face and grabs a fistful tugging my head back so my neck was all his for the taking. His tongue runs along the nape of my neck, picking a spot to suck between his lips and mark as his own.
I cry out, lifting my hips and gyrate against his hand just as he runs two fingers between the lips of my pussy, rubbing my wetness against my clit. I was hypersensitive, something new since the pregnancy, and with every stroke my body threatened to cave. His fingers left my clit and pushed deep inside my folds, filling me as his lips closed around one my nipples.
To say we were both enjoying the effects of my pregnancy would be an understatement. Jack couldn’t get enough of my body and I was never satisfied. His fingers thrust in and out of my heat, working me up to my first orgasm of the day, knowing without a doubt I’d have at least two more before the days end.