Still can’t believe I’m going to have another one. I suppose this is what happens when two people who can’t keep their hands off each other fall in love.
I find Whit in the kitchen, snapping the lid on one of Augie’s sippy cups. “There you are,” he says when he spots us, his mouth stretching into a smile. Only to be replaced with a frown within seconds. “You shouldn’t be carrying him.”
He takes Augie out of my arms and sets him on the floor, handing the cup to our son who takes it and sips from the cup loudly before making a loud “aah” sound. “Delicious,” he says with an adorable little lisp.
I send Whit a look. “What did you give him?”
“Water,” he says with a shrug. “How was the fitting?”
“Exhausting.” I go to Whit and rest my hands on his chest at the exact moment he leans down and drops a kiss on my upturned lips. “I want a nap.”
“It’s nearly dinner time,” he says.
“For old people,” I tease. It’s as if we’ve become old people lately—or more like, I have—eating early and going to bed early too. I’m tired all the time from being pregnant and I’m barely out of my first trimester. “Come nap with me.”
Our nanny Mari chooses that exact moment to walk into the kitchen, grabbing hold of Augie’s hand. “Want to go to the playroom?”
“Yeah!” he shouts, grinning up at her.
“Thank you, Mari,” I say, grateful for some alone time with my husband.
“Of course,” Mari says with a smile. “Are you eating dinner together this evening?”
“I think we’ll eat a little later tonight,” Whit says, grabbing hold of my hand. “If you don’t mind feeding Augie at his usual time, we’d appreciate it.”
“Not a problem,” Mari says.
The moment the nanny and our son are gone, I turn on Whit. “Eating later? We always eat with Augie.”
“Not tonight.” Whit grabs my hand and whisks me out of the kitchen and down the hall. “You deserve a break.”
“Taking care of our child isn’t a job,” I protest, which only makes him laugh.
“Augie is a full-time job all by himself, and we’re going to have two before the end of the year.” He smiles at me from over his shoulder. “Besides, Daddy wants to get Mommy alone for a little while.”
Only Whit could make that sentence sound positively filthy.
By the time we’re in our bedroom with the door firmly locked, our mouths are fused, Whit’s busy hands everywhere. He strips me to my underwear before we collapse together on the bed, Whit lying beside me, his hand moving over the gentle swell of my stomach.
“It’s a girl,” he says reverently, his fingers drifting back and forth across my skin. “I just know it.”
“She’ll have you wrapped around her finger from birth,” I tease.
“Just like her mother.” Whit’s glittering blue eyes meet mine and he dips his head, his mouth finding mine once more. The kiss turns instantly carnal, his tongue thrusting, making me moan. He breaks the kiss before we get too carried away. “I have something for you.”
“Whit,” I protest as he jumps up from the bed and goes to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer. “You do too much for me already.”
He never stops giving me gifts. Expensive ones, too. I don’t need all that. I’m happy with him and our little life, which isn’t little at all considering who he is and what he has. He’s an important man who comes from an important family, and he’s recently started devoting his time to philanthropy, wanting to help organizations that are dear to his heart raise money. Right now, his favorite charities involve children, thanks to our sweet little boy.
Whit returns to the bed with a small, black velvet box clutched in his hand. He thrusts it towards me. “Open it,” he demands.
I take the box from him and pop the lid open, a soft exhalation escaping me when I see what’s inside.
A glittering yellow diamond ring, surrounded by tiny white diamonds. The thin band is also covered in white diamonds, and it glitters and flashes in the light.
“What do you think?” he asks, joining me once more on the bed. He slips his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my bare shoulder. “I saw it and thought of you.”
“You need to stop buying me gifts,” I gently scold as I withdraw the ring from the box and slip it on my ring finger on my right hand. It’s a perfect fit. “It’s beautiful.”
“Almost as beautiful as you,” he whispers, his mouth finding my neck, delivering soft, wet kisses along the length. “Should I fuck you? Or am I going to do permanent damage to my daughter?”
“What are you talking about? She’s about as big as a grape right now,” I tease him, turning so I can kiss him fully.
He touches my cheek, deepening the kiss, pulling me into him. “This is where I admit I’m dying to treat you terribly. Call you names. Spank your pretty ass.”
I laugh. Our passion for each other is as strong as ever, but Whit isn’t quite as cruel as he used to be. I miss it sometimes. And sometimes, we fall back into those roles because we enjoy it.
“You can spank my ass,” I tell him softly, a faint smile curling my lips.
“It’s no fun when you tell me I can do it,” he teases, growling when I lean forward and nip at his lower lip. “You’ll get punished for that.”
“I can’t wait.” I scoot away from him and go on all fours, wagging my lace covered ass at him like a taunt. “Go ahead. Spank it.”
He doesn’t spank me. Instead, he tugs the lace out of the way and spears his tongue inside of me, lapping at my folds, driving me out of my mind with need within seconds. He licks and sucks and teases and touches until I’m gasping his name and coming with an intensity that hasn’t happened in a while.
“You’re always so horny when you’re pregnant,” he says after I’ve come down from my orgasm. “You were the same way with Augie.”
“You’re the one who got off on fucking me endlessly when I was eight months pregnant,” I remind him, rolling over on my back and kicking off my panties at same time. He studies me, his gaze settled on the spot between my legs. Such a typical man. “Only a few more days until we’re married.”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “Are you excited?”
I nod, fighting the nerves that want to attack. “There are going to be so many people at our wedding. It’s a little—scary.”
“You’re going to be beautiful. Finally making you my bride.” He crawls over me, his face in mine. “I would’ve married you at nineteen.”
“Ridiculous.” I roll my eyes.
“No, you’re ridiculous. You’re also the only girl I’ve ever met who wasn’t impressed by my money,” he says, and I see the sincerity there. How much he appreciates that.
When we were younger, he was always shocked when I would turn him down and tell him no. He wasn’t used to it. He definitely wasn’t used to me not being interested in his family fortune. He eventually came to realize it was because nothing mattered to me but him.