Her nails dug into the smooth, cool leather chaps. “Do these come off?” she pleaded.
“They do. But this is all for you,” he answered, inserting a finger inside of her, then cupped her sex as he worked her slick center.
Jordan coaxed her to give in to the intense sensations, whispering in her ear, telling her all the dirty things he was going to do to her in these chaps when they got home tonight. But she couldn’t reply. She could barely think. All she could do was ride his hand, bucking and thrusting like a wickedly wanton cowgirl, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.
And then, she was there. Flying, falling, spiraling. Her body tingling, head to toe.
His warm breath came in scorching puffs against the shell of her ear as she collided with her frenzied release in an explosion of passion.
“Don’t stop,” she bit out, riding an exquisite wave of insurmountable carnal gratification.
And bless this man, he did not slow down. Instead, he doubled his efforts, lengthening each tantalizing swell of her release until her body returned to her, leaving her warm and delectably relaxed.
She blinked open her eyes, feeling delightfully sated and peaceful, to find herself face-to-face with Faby.
“This is strange,” she said on a dreamy sigh.
Jordan pressed a kiss to her temple. “I don’t think Faby minds.”
“I mind,” she said, turning the doll to stare at the wall.
Jordan stilled. “Georgie, the baby!”
“I know, we’ve probably scarred Faby for life.”
“No, the real baby. It kicked,” he said, placing his hands on her belly.
She rested her hand on top of his. “It’s freaky how this baby seems to know when I…”
“Get off?” he teased.
She pursed her lips. “Can we call it attaining sweet oblivion? It has a more poetic ring to it compared to—”
“Getting off in the kitchen?” he interrupted again with a wicked grin.
She shrugged. “I can’t even think of a pithy response when you’re looking all cowboy hot.”
“I’m definitely keeping this costume,” he said as his phone pinged.
“Time to go?” she asked, adjusting the tie on her cowgirl shirt.
“Yep, the car’s here.”
She checked her appearance in the reflection of the metal tea kettle and sighed at her doughnut-shaped midsection. “This is as good as it gets. At least, I’ve certainly got some color on my cheeks now.”
He cupped her face in his hand, then brushed his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “You’re always beautiful to me. And now I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing, while we’re mixing with the upper-crust of Denver at this ritzy Western shindig, that I made the naughtiest cowgirl there come hard in my hand.”
Hello, dirty talk cowboy!
She opened the freezer and waved the cold air onto her face. “You get Faby. I need to get my preggo-libido under control.”
“Don’t freeze it all. Remember, I’ve got lots of ideas for what we can do with these chaps when we get home.”
She swallowed hard, then started waving the cold air with both hands when a knock at the door ended her hormone cooling session.
“It’s the driver,” he said, closing the freezer, then passed her a can of pineapple juice.
“One for the road?” she asked, actually quite thirsty after their sexy kitchen caper.
Jordan retrieved Faby while she inched her way down to say goodbye to Mr. Tuesday.
“Be a good boy. We love you,” she said, scratching between the dog’s ears.
“Georgie, we need to go,” her husband called.
“Remember, Mr. Tuesday, you’ll always be my first baby,” she added, then kissed his nose.
In true Mr. Tuesday fashion, the pup cocked his head to the side with a big doggy grin.
She hurried out of the kitchen and met Jordan on the doorstep. They followed the driver and settled themselves in the luxurious town car as her phone pinged. She pulled it from her clutch and grinned when she saw Irene’s name and picture flash on the screen.
“Hey, Irene! You’re on speaker with me and Jordan and…” She tapped the driver. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Um…Frank,” the man replied, looking perplexed.
“You’re on with me, Jordan, and Frank,” she continued, greeting her friend.
“Hello, Jordan, and hey, Frank,” Irene said, her voice ringing out with the soft murmurs of a baby cooing in the background.
“How’s the little guy?” Jordan asked.
“Nathaniel is an absolute dream when he’s sucking me dry. I’ve become a milk machine. Get ready, Georgie! You don’t have long now.”
Georgie glanced down at her ample C-cups, hardly able to believe that she’d be feeding a baby with those things soon.
“Pregnancy is like a sci-fi movie,” she said.
“And post-pregnancy is half horror flick, half comedy, but it’s all worth it, isn’t it, sweet Nathaniel,” Irene added, her voice going gooey enamored.
Jordan pointed to his wristwatch, and she nodded.
“Irene, we don’t have long to chat. We’re on our way to host that fundraiser for my mom and Howard.”
“What did they say when you told them about the baby? I figured they would have hopped the next private jet home.”
Georgie shared a troubled glance with Jordan. “They don’t know about the pregnancy yet.”
The line went quiet.
“Last time we talked, you said that you’d called Howard’s office,” Irene replied with a puzzled edge.
Georgie released a frustrated sigh. “According to fifteen of Howard’s assistants, he and my mother have gone off the grid to find their innermost desire. I’ve left messages, but I don’t think they’ve gotten any of them.”
“Georgie, I’m sorry. I know what a big deal it was for you to make that call,” her friend replied, then yawned, and it sounded like a bear had taken over her BFF’s body. “You know what my innermost desire is?”
“What?” Georgie asked.
“Eight solid hours of sleep,” Irene answered on a dreamy exhale.
“Any chance of that happening in the near future?” Jordan asked.
Irene chuckled. “Nope, the milk machine is open twenty-four seven. But, Georgie?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you tried contacting your mom’s assistant or the energy lady in Boulder, who hooked your mom up with this spiritual retreat?”
“No, but I think that’s our next step,” she answered as Jordan nodded.
“Okay, I’ll let you two go back to playing socialites. Drink all the champagne for me, Jordan, and try not to annihilate any tropical fruit displays, Georgie,” Irene said with a weary chuckle.
“Will do, Irene. Take care,” Jordan said as she ended the call.
She reclined into the seat. “Tomorrow, we can reach out to Nicolette and the Boulder psychic lady. I don’t know why I didn’t think to do it sooner.”
Jordan took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I agree. We’ll get through tonight, then tackle all the calls tomorrow.”
She nodded, ready for a nap. Sexytimes, while gestating, really took it out of a gal.