Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  Excitement in her eyes was followed by frustration. “Por favor, Señor. It’s been so long.”

  Dios, he loved that she was begging him for it. Enough already. He couldn’t wait another minute to take her.

  When he turned off the chair and removed the vibrating ball, she groaned. “I can see you’re going to want to use that setting when you’re home alone while Marisol and I are out of the house, which is fine. That’s why I got you the chair—to relieve stress.” He held up the ball. “But you’re only going to use this on orgasm mode with your Dom’s permission. ¿Comprendes?”

  “You, Sir, are evil.”

  He chuckled, stroking himself again, watchful for any sign she’d been triggered by his action or her position. But she seemed too lost in the moment to care about the past. Moving the chair to the upright position, he impatiently waited for her to regain her equilibrium. “My dick needs to bury itself inside you. Now. And it’s not going to happen with you in that chair.”

  As he helped her out of it, she placed a kiss on his cheek and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, mi Savannah.”

  Guiding her to the bed, he grabbed two pillows and laid them near the edge. He kissed her, pinching her nipple with one hand and stroking her clit with the other. The kiss was far from tender. Thank God. When she gripped his cock, he nearly exploded. Supporting her upper body, he helped her bend forward at the waist and lower her head onto the pillows.

  She tilted her face to the side. “Please, hurry.”

  Topping from the bottom? That wouldn’t do.

  “Who’s in charge in this bedroom, savita?”

  “You are, Sir.”

  “Let’s try and remember that so I don’t have to swat that pretty little ass of yours with my tawse.”

  The glazed look in her eyes told him she was ready for anything he cared to dish out. “I wouldn’t mind that, either.” Taking her wrists, he bent her arms at the elbows and let her hands rest naturally on either edge of the pillow. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, Sir. Well, everywhere but my pussy. It’s very uncomfortable. So’s my clit.”

  Savannah’s rediscovered sexuality was going to be the death of him yet.

  But what a way to go.

  * * *

  Savannah’s entire body quivered as he placed her in the position that she loved the most lately, with the trunk of her body and her belly hanging freely, far enough away from the mattress that her abdomen wouldn’t be shoved against it when he entered her forcefully. She did so like it rough when he had her at a fever pitch like this.

  Judging by how easily Damián’s fingers slid through her folds, she was dripping wet. Would he make her wait long? His throbbing hard-on told her he was equally anxious for their time together. It had been forever.

  Damián’s warm body pressed against her butt. “Spread your legs wider for me, querida.” She did and immediately felt his erection gliding up and down her slippery folds before flicking against her swollen clit.

  “Your clit is hard for me,” he said. “Your pussy so wet.” She heard the pride in his voice. He knew without a doubt that he’d made her that way.

  He stroked her back and sides in several deep, smooth motions until his hands came around to cup her dangling breasts.

  “Ready?”

  “Oh, yes.” She couldn’t wait to have him inside her. He surprised her by pinching her nipples. “Oh, fuck!” Did I just say fuck? Not that Damián hadn’t said it many times, but it wasn’t a word she used much, if ever. But they were more sensitive than they had been a few weeks ago. “I mean, God, that hurts!”

  “I thought you said you were ready.” His fingers massaged her tender nipples, shaking off the residual pain.

  “I thought you meant for you to come inside me.” While she no longer had triggers, he usually asked first, just to be sure. “My mind had been focused on that, not my nipples.”

  His chuckle reverberated through her back and butt. Without further ado, he stood up, grabbed her hips, and drove himself inside her, filling her with one stroke. A grunt emitted from her throat involuntarily. Grounded in the moment, she let the sensations of her throbbing nipples and having him buried inside her take over. Grabbing the pillow with both hands, she held on as he pounded into her, increasing the force, depth, and speed with each thrust. When his finger flicked her clit, she nearly exploded.

  Did he realize how close she was to coming? “Permission to come, Sir?”

  “Not until I say so.” Rat bastard. He enjoyed controlling her orgasms and making her go out of her mind before he gave her the release she craved.

  He rubbed his thumb against her puckered star, and she clenched him even tighter. “Wait, Sir. I’m not sure—” Her pussy muscles clamped around his fingers.

  “I’m not going there tonight, bebé. But we will try anal after the baby is here. You’ll need some preparation with butt plugs first.”

  Again, she spasmed against his cock at the thought. The idea definitely intrigued and excited her. There were so many things she had yet to explore with him.

  But right now, all she wanted to do was come. Squeezing her eyes shut, she decided not to play fair. She tightened her vaginal muscles each time he pulled away, as if to hold him there. Kegels. She almost giggled to think how much more prepared she’d be for this delivery than she had been for Mari’s.

  “Keep that up, savita, and I won’t last much longer.”

  Good! She panted, as if doing her no-push Lamaze breathing—or mile twenty-five of a marathon.

  Wait for him. Wait for him. Wait—

  “Now, bebé. Come with me.”

  He pinched her clit, and she nearly flung him off of her. “Dear Lord!” But the discomfort quickly dissipated as her body convulsed in an intense orgasm that rolled over her in wave after wave, not letting up until the last ounce of energy had been drained from her body.

  “Fuck, woman! So fucking sweet! I’ve missed this.” He rarely expressed himself when he came, so he must be feeling the intensity as well. Like a deluge after a long drought.

  When guilt entered into her thoughts, she pushed it away. She’d changed. Her inhibitions and triggers were a thing of the past—well, she hoped so in the case of the latter, but triggers were unpredictable. But she hadn’t flashed back to her eighteenth birthday, even though Damián had been stroking his erection in a similar manner. All she’d seen was her husband and how aroused he was watching her naked body. Progress.

  She groaned and tried to avoid his fingers when her clit began to feel overstimulated, but he released the nub and slowly rubbed her lower lips before slapping her butt a couple of times for good measure after pulling out. He helped her to stand upright again and immediately yanked the extra blanket off the bottom of the bed to wrap it around her.

  When he lifted her in his arms, she screamed, “Put me down! I’m not as light as I used to be.” The stare he gave her made her stomach drop into her pelvis. “I’m sorry, Sir. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Or drop me. But she should have known he wouldn’t endanger her or the baby. He seemed totally steady on his feet.

  Her body began shaking before he set her down beside the chair he used for cuddling and for aftercare. He smiled and placed a sweet kiss on her lips before he sat and pulled her onto his lap. Cocooned in the blanket and his arms, she let all the feelings wash over her.

  “That was intense,” she murmured.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Her trembling lessened as they came down off their high. Hearing him say it was intense for him, too, confirmed that the two of them were totally in sync and growing stronger than ever.

  “And after I let you rest up again, my tongue and mouth are ready to worship your clit and pussy like I’ve never gone down on you before.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She giggled at the pun. “I wonder if it’s just because sex while pregnant is hotter. If so, it almost makes me want to get pregnant i
mmediately after this one.”

  He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her cheek. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to accommodate your every wish, my Princess Slut.” The way she craved sex these days, she certainly was living up to the nickname he’d given her. “But why don’t we wait and see what sex outside of pregnancy is like, querida, for, oh, say a year or two? There are lots of other positions and techniques we can explore when we aren’t constrained by the fact you’re pregnant. We’ve hardly begun to enjoy that chair’s versatility.” Not to mention continuing to explore her own sexuality. Who knew what all she hadn’t tried yet? The possibilities seemed limitless.

  “Well, if you insist.” She smiled, thinking about the lifetime they hoped to have together to explore each other’s bodies and sexual interests. “I love you more each day, Sir Damián.”

  “And I love my little Savannah with every breath in my body.”

  She closed her eyes. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The sporadic Braxton-Hicks contractions she’d been feeling for months intensified not long after Damián left for the shop that morning. Having seen Doctor Palmer yesterday and hearing she hadn’t dilated any farther since her premature labor a month ago, she wasn’t worried about an early delivery. She’d been at two centimeters for more than a week when pregnant with Mari. This baby would most likely come closer to the due date, which was still almost two weeks away.

  But the pressure grew stronger all morning, and the contractions started to become more regular. Still too far apart to call Damián home. He’d told her he had to overhaul an engine, which would take all day. She didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. If her water broke or the contractions became regular, closer together, and harder, then she’d know it was time to get serious.

  These were nothing like the ones she remembered having with Mari, though. She decided to go about her normal routine, putting on some soup for lunch for her and Mari. Her daughter would stay busy watching Saturday morning cartoons for at least another hour.

  Savannah slowly climbed the stairs and straightened up their bedrooms, pressing her hand to her lower back when another contraction almost took her breath away. But when it passed, she felt fine.

  Back downstairs in the kitchen, she ladled out two bowls of vegetable-beef soup and set Mari’s beside her peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam sandwich. “Time for lunch, Mari,” she called.

  A trickle of wetness escaped her panties and ran down her thigh. Great. Probably leaking urine. Small wonder with all the pressure on her bladder. She hadn’t taken a bathroom break in more than an hour.

  After getting Mari settled at the table, Savannah went back upstairs to change her underwear then joined Mari, who was staging a mock battle between Mulan and Li Shang, two of the action figures she’d given her for Christmas.

  “Would you like me to play one of the parts?”

  “Sure! You can be Mushu.”

  Savannah picked up the dragon and pretended to cast a spell on the two soldiers when a severe cramp seized her abdomen and robbed her of breath.

  “Maman, are you all right?”

  No words would come out, so she nodded vigorously, but this one felt more like active labor than practice contractions. She hadn’t been timing them yet, but glanced at the clock on the microwave. Perhaps she ought to do so, though, before calling the doctor or Damián.

  Not wanting to alarm Mari with the severity of the pain, she gritted her teeth and forced a smile. After another moment, the intensity decreased enough for her to say, “I’m fine. Now eat your lunch.”

  Mari gave her side-eye glances as she chewed a bite of her sandwich, her somber expression telling Savannah the little girl couldn’t help but be worried. She took on the self-imposed role of protector when Damián wasn’t here. Savannah wanted to calm her fears, but something wasn’t normal about these contractions. She might need to take Mari and the pets to Adam and Karla’s on the way to the hospital, so she sent her out to walk Chiquita. It took a few minutes before Savannah was able to stand to clear the table. Suddenly, a gush of warm liquid poured down her leg onto the floor.

  Her heart rate kicked up a notch—okay, maybe ten. Having her water break was a surefire sign that, within twenty-four hours, she’d be holding her new baby. Time to call Damián to let him know to finish up whatever he could and head home, but first, she’d clean up this mess. She wouldn’t ask Mari to do so.

  Retrieving a roll of paper towels, she pulled off a huge wad and awkwardly knelt down to soak up the fluid. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and she grabbed a table leg to keep herself from falling over. Soon after it passed, the next contraction cramped her abdomen, cervix, and back at the same time, doubling her over and taking her breath away once more. She lowered herself onto her side. A feeling of intense fullness in her vagina left her writhing on the floor.

  “Mari!” She gasped for air. “Come quick!”

  No response. Damn. She must be outside still. Savannah had left her phone on the table. She lay there several interminable minutes until the front door opened and Chiquita came bounding in to wait at her food bowl.

  Savannah screamed, “Mari! Maman needs you!”

  The little girl came rushing into the room with leash in hand and Aidan close behind her. “Maman! What’s wrong?”

  “Call Daddy! Hurry, Princess.” She pointed toward the table, unable to speak as another contraction hit her. They were practically on top of each other now, maybe five minutes apart.

  Aidan knelt beside her to take her pulse. Did a pre-vet student know anything about human pulse rates?

  He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call 911 so we can transport you safely to the hospital.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. Damián’s only fifteen minutes away.”

  When she heard Mari leaving a frantic message on Damián’s voicemail, though, she nodded at Aidan. “Go ahead and call.” She didn’t want Mari traumatized by watching her maman giving birth on the kitchen floor.

  Savannah hoped Damián wouldn’t freak out when he heard Mari’s frantic message about the baby coming early—in their kitchen. He must have gone out for lunch. She knew he wouldn’t answer his phone while riding his bike.

  “Dispatch, my neighbor appears to be in labor. I’m a volunteer firefighter here to assist in whatever way you tell me. I’ve had some paramedic training.”

  Aidan was a firefighter, as well as a pre-vet student? No time to process it all right now. She was simply thankful he was here.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said into the phone, giving their address. He held the phone away from his mouth and asked for her due date, then relayed the information. “January 26th.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Not on her kitchen floor. Thank goodness she’d mopped the floor last night. It had at least been clean before her water broke.

  “Marisol,” he said in a loud, authoritative voice, “go get all the pillows off the couch and your parents’ bed. And hurry!” Thank God he was taking charge of the situation and giving Mari something to do besides watch in stunned silence. They hadn’t planned on having Mari witness the birth of the baby, only to have her come in later as the new big sister to hold her first sibling. But nothing was going as planned.

  Damián, come home. We need you.

  Aidan gave Savannah calm assurances that everything would be okay, easing some of her panic.

  “Mrs. Orlando, the 911 dispatcher wants to know if you can feel the baby’s head outside your…body.” Did he just blush?

  “Lots of pressure. Not sure.” She found it difficult to breathe. No longer embarrassed that she was doing this in front of her teenaged neighbor, she pulled up her dress and felt inside her soaked panties. “No. Nothing yet.” Thank God. She didn’t want give birth on the floor. Surely either Damián or the EMTs would arrive in time.

  “Good,” she heard the dispatcher say as she moved her panties down to her thighs and Aidan took them the
rest of the way off. She was beyond being embarrassed about that, too.

  “Mrs. Orlando, they don’t want you to push until the EMT or paramedics tell you to. Understand?”

  “I’ll try not to.” But the urge to do just that became unbearable minutes later.

  “I have to push! Now!”

  “Try taking short bursts of air, rapid breaths,” he relayed from the dispatcher. Over the next few minutes, a flurry of activity had Aidan lifting her up and Mari placing pillows under her back and head to get her into a more upright position.

  Aidan told the dispatcher he was going to get the things she asked for and would be turning over the phone to her eight-year-old daughter. He instructed Mari to sit beside Savannah to provide additional support. “Marisol, stay on the phone until I get back.” Aidan asked Savannah, “Where do you keep your clean towels?”

  “Upstairs hall closet.”

  He ran off in a flash.

  While Mari was putting up a strong façade, her subdued demeanor alerted Savannah that she was stressed. “How are you doing, baby?”

  “Me? I’m okay.” She paused before adding, “I don’t like to see you hurting.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. Just wait until you meet your new baby sister or brother.”

  When another contraction hit, Savannah feared that might happen even sooner than she’d like. She fought the urge to push. The dispatcher must have heard her groans and heavy breathing and struck up a conversation to distract Mari, doing a great job at calming her.

  The rumble of Damián’s hog reverberated through the house as he pulled into the garage. Tears ran down her cheeks. He’s home!

  “Savannah!” he shouted as he came into the house.

  “We’re in the kitchen, Daddy!”

  Savannah’s gaze shifted to the doorway, and when he filled it, she let out tears of joy. He quickly assessed the situation and knelt beside her. Mari handed him the phone. “The 911 lady wants to talk with you, Daddy.”

  “Thanks, Princesa.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek then spoke into the phone. “Hello. This is Savannah’s husband, Damián Orlando.”