“Then I’d have to call you a weirdo. Or sex fiend. That’s probably more appropriate.”
“I assure you I’ve been called much worse.”
I grasp her behind her knee and place her foot on the sofa so I have better access to what I want. She grasps my shoulders for balance as she stands on a single foot.
My hand palm side up, I slip it between her legs. I push my fingers through her slit and bring them forward, barely grazing her sensitive nub. I do it again, softly and slowly. Deliberate. I want her to yearn for more. “Do you like it when I do that?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I stroke her again. “Then you’d like more of this?”
“You know I do.”
“How badly do you want it?”
“Desperately.”
“Then ask me for it.”
“Touch me.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly what you want. A simple touch will never make you come. Tell me what it is you really want.”
“Stroke me.” She takes one of her hands from my shoulder and places on top of mine. She rocks her hips back and forth. “Right here.”
“Stroke here until you what?”
“Until I come.”
I move my fingers back and forth. “Like this?”
“Mmm … hmm.”
She’s holding my hand with hers, moving her hips against my fingers. Faster and harder. It isn’t long before I’m seeing the cues she’s close to climax. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
I grasp the back of her leg, the one she’s still standing on. “Hold onto my shoulders.”
I pull her so her legs are straddling me. I guide my rock-hard cock to her entrance. She sinks over me until I’m deep inside. “Ohh,” she gasps.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and begins moving with me. I move my fingers to that sensitive spot above our union and continue stroking her sensitive zone. “This is where I want to come. Inside you—here.” Never in her mouth like the others. Never in the mouth she’ll use to kiss our children.
“It’s starting,” she says while slowing to ride me with more deliberate motion. And she’s right. The muscular contractions squeeze tightly around my cock. It’s all I need to start the onset of my own climax.
“I feel it.” I grasp her hips tightly, digging my fingertips into her flesh. I pull her down hard and plunge deep, meeting her thrust for thrust.
“Ohh … ohh,” she groans. It’s her patented noise every time she comes. It’s a glorious sound to hear. It means I’ve given my wife another orgasm. I’m still the only man who’s ever done that for her.
It’s a carefully orchestrated act to bring together. And worth every bit of effort. There’s nothing else like it in this world.
When we’re both satiated, she relaxes against me, resting her cheek against my shoulder. I’m still inside her. I want to keep it that way so I put my arms around her waist to hold her in place.
I thought making love might take her mind off the baby stuff but I don’t think it has. “You’re still there.”
She pulls away to look at my face. “I’m still where?”
“That place your mind went after we left the fertility clinic this morning.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m happy she isn’t pretending she doesn’t know what I mean.
“It’s okay. I’m in the same place.” And I want to be there together.
“It scares me.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.” She presses her forehead to mine. “I’m terrified it won’t work. I’m petrified it will.”
I rub my hands up and down her back. “I think all first-time parents have these kinds of fears.”
“But mine are different. They consist of more than how I’ll care for a baby.”
I want to know and understand the things causing her angst. “Tell me about it.”
She sighs long and hard. “I’ve always thought of my future family as the end result—my reward to myself for avenging my mother’s death and putting all the darkness behind me. I never once considered taking a husband or having a child before the deed was done.”
“I see.” Things are happening out of order and she’s having a hard time dealing with how reality differs from the plan in her head.
“I thought I’d be healed—and normal—before I married and had a baby. How can I become someone’s mother when I’m still like this?”
“You’ll need to choose which is more important—your obsession with your mother’s killer or taking the only chance we may get at having our own children.”
“I want both.”
It’s impossible to have both right now. “Revenge will wait. Our family won’t.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that we’d be making the decision to do the IVF for the wrong reason?”
Bleu having our baby should never be called wrong. “The timing may be questionable, but never the reason.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m saying all the wrong things.”
It’s okay. I understand what she means. “We didn’t get the news we were anticipating. We thought we’d have plenty of time. Turns out we may not. No one can predict the future, not even these specialists. What I do know is that our baby will be wanted and loved like no other. In the end, isn’t that what matters most?”
“I feel like the most important events of my life have happened to suit a time frame that wasn’t my own. Infiltrating The Fellowship. Marrying you. Now, bringing a baby into the world sooner than I’d like because my ovary may not hold out.”
“And it’s worked out for the best every time.”
“Yes. But I’d like to do something without feeling cornered.”
Being pushed before she’s ready is the last thing I want her to feel. “We don’t have to make a decision today, nor should we. We need time to sort out our feelings and what proceeding means for our lives and marriage.”
“How long do we give it?”
Dr. Paschall said we shouldn’t wait long. “Let’s take the week to think it over and we’ll make our final decision after the wedding reception.” I think we need that off our plates when we return to this conversation again. “Agree?”
“Agreed.”
Seven days until Bleu and I make a decision that will ultimately change our lives forever. Choose wrong and we could spend the rest of our lives in regret.