She leans over to kiss me goodnight and reaches for the back of my head to hold me close. I kiss her back, although I shouldn’t, and she becomes more aggressive. That’s when I realize this is not the same simple goodnight kiss she has given me each night for the past two weeks.
“This is another example like the ketchup incident today. You can’t do this to me. It’s agony.”
“But it doesn’t have to be. There’s still plenty we can do.” She slides across the bed and climbs over to kneel between my legs. She puts her fingers in the waistband of my sleep pants and tugs. “My mouth isn’t off limits.”
Oh fuck. My girl is going to suck me off.
I lift my hips, beyond excited about what L is going to do to me. I haven’t gotten off in weeks so I’m happier than a camel on Wednesday.
I’ve wanted to jerk off many times over the last few weeks but it felt wrong to experience any kind of pleasure while L was going through so much, especially while she was in the hospital fighting to save our baby. I couldn’t even consider it then. I thought about it after she was home and the initial danger was behind us, but it still didn’t feel right since she was in such a miserable state.
This, however, doesn’t feel wrong, so I grab her pillow and prop it with mine behind my head so I can watch her every move.
She puts her palms on my thighs and glides them upward until her fingertips brush my balls. She teases me for a moment, lightly sweeping her fingers back and forth, and I think I’ll implode from the anticipation.
Her hand moves up and holds the base of my cock as she circles her tongue around the head. The stiff tip flicks several times at a supersensitive area just below the crown. She alternates these motions several times before taking me fully into her mouth. “That feels so fucking good.” I put my hands in her hair and pull all of it into my fist in a high ponytail because I love watching my cock slide in and out of her mouth. I could almost come just by the sight of it alone.
She takes me out of her mouth and anchors my cock against my stomach. Then she does something new. Her tongue starts at the base of my balls and she licks the pleasure trail running top to bottom along my scrotum, the seam separating my boys. She draws the loose skin of the seam into her mouth and lightly sucks, bringing the blood, and the pleasure receptors, to the surface. “Fuck!” I groan.
She smiles and looks up at me. “You like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “I like that a-fucking-lot. Please don’t let this be the one and only time you do that.”
“I’ve got plenty more for you, caveman.”
She takes my cock back into her mouth and massages my balls for a moment before I feel her finger against the skin under my sac. She presses it more firmly and rotates it in a circular motion. Slow, and then fast. Soft, and then hard. I’ve never been harder and what’s building has never felt more powerful. “Ohh …” I tap her on the head, our signal that I’m about to come, but I can’t say the words. I’m speechless aside from the incomprehensible garble leaving my mouth.
She stops and holds my cock so it’s pointing toward my stomach as she continues pressing that spot under my balls until I have this crazy, powerful explosion, by far the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. “Holy shit, L. That was …” I can’t even think of a fitting word to describe it.
“Great?” She looks so hopeful, as if she’s afraid she hasn’t pleased me.
Calling it great would be an insult. “Mind-blowing is a better word, but even that doesn’t do it justice. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve given me some fantastic head in the past but that was the best ever. What was that you were doing with your finger?”
I think she’s blushing. “It was my knuckle and I was stimulating your prostate.”
I look at how much cum is on my stomach. “You stimulated me, all right. I think you milked me dry.”
“I’ve heard there’s more semen when you press the prostate so I was afraid to swallow.” She shakes her head. “This pregnancy still has my gag reflex working overtime.” She slides to the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna grab a towel.”
She returns and wipes me clean. She rolls the towel up, tossing it out of the way, and then slides in next to me. I pull her close and kiss her as I slide my hand under her gown, but she grabs my wrist. “No.”
“I’m only going to touch on the outside.”
She moves my hand away. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I know anything on the inside is off limits, but I want to make you feel good too.”
She shakes her head. “Lying next you after giving you a mind-blowing orgasm makes me feel good.”
“I can do much better than that.”
“I’m afraid to have an orgasm even if nothing goes inside me. Maybe we can try later when the baby is far enough along to survive, in case it puts me into labor or something.”
She’s right. It isn’t worth the risk just to feel good. “Okay.”
She puts her head on my chest and traces an infinity on my stomach around my belly button with her finger. “Don’t be mad.”
I could never be upset with her over something like this. “Baby, I’m not mad. You’re thinking of our child’s safety. I could never be upset with you over that.”
“Pleasing you pleases me, so I’m fine with getting you off and not having the favor returned. You can make up for it later.”
I will definitely make this up to her. “I know you don’t mind but I love making you come. It’s quite satisfying for me to watch your face when you squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch your cute little nose as you open your mouth and pant.”
“That’s what I look like when I come?”
“Almost every time.”
She turns and props her chin on my chest. “What do I look like the other times?”
“Sometimes you bite your bottom lip. Both of your come faces are really hot. Lets me know I’m doing something right.”
“Everything you do is perfect. You always make me feel great.” She lifts her face and stretches to kiss me. “Never doubt that, McLachlan.”
She lowers her head to my chest and settles in as though she might be ready for sleep. Again.
We lie there for a brief moment when I hear her sharp intake of breath. “What is it? Are you having a pain?”
She lifts her head to look at me and grins. “No. The baby is moving.” I’ve yet to feel a single movement. Every time I try, the baby either stills or I simply can’t detect it. It may seem silly, but I think I’m a little jealous that L’s feeling it and I can’t. “This little stinker is turning flips tonight so I bet you’ll feel it this time. Give me your hand.”
L turns to her back and lifts her gown. She takes my hand and places at the top of her small bump. “It’s more on the left side.” We’re silent, waiting, as if the absence of sound will help my sense of feel.
And then it happens. I feel a gentle nudge beneath my hand. “I felt that.” And I feel something else as well. Love—the true and real kind.
I got into my music studio a few weeks ago and I’ve been banging out the tunes like crazy. It’s weird—maybe like the break I had from the time I left Southern Ophelia to now was what I really needed to make this transition from performer to composer a successful one. Or maybe I’m just happy with my life and it’s finding its way into my music.
I’ve conferenced with Charlie and the gang a few times and they’re really excited about the material I’m working on. Randy wants first pick and that totally works for me. I have no problem selling my songs minus the pain of marketing them.
Kim, my female lead replacement for Southern Ophelia, says she loves my lyrics because they speak to her. She’s like me in a lot of ways. She only sings songs that touch her so we’ve been working on a special single together. The guys don’t know about it—and she’s asked me to not tell them—and I think I know
why. This song is her story and the way she feels about a man. I happen to believe the song is about Charlie. I guess it could be anyone, but the lyrics she’s contributed tell me she’s in deep.
I’m absorbed into the song in my head when Jack Henry comes into my studio. “L, you’re going to be late for your appointment.”
I look at the time and he’s right. I should’ve been gone ten minutes ago. “Shit.” I get up from my stool at the piano and go over to give him a kiss. “I gotta run.”
He grabs my arm to get my full attention before I’m able to get away. “No speeding to make it on time. I mean it. You can’t beat the clock so don’t try.”
That’s something I would have once attempted, but not now. “I’ll obey all the traffic laws.”
He kisses my cheek. “I’m really sorry I can’t go with you today.”
He feels bad he doesn’t make it to the doctor’s with me every time. “It’s okay. I see her every week so you can’t take off from work for every appointment, even if you are the boss.”
“Get a picture of her for me so I can see how much my girl’s grown this week.”
He has to stop doing that, always calling this baby a girl, but I don’t have time to scold him. I think that’s one reason he’s doing it—because I’m on my way out the door and I don’t have time. “I always do.”
My ultrasound goes well, as does my cervical exam. No change. I’m twenty-six weeks now and everything remains on track, so I decide it’s a good time to speak with Dr. Sommersby about my concerns. “My husband and I have a question. We understand that we can’t have penetrative sex, but is it okay for me to … orgasm other ways?”
“Oral sex and mutual masturbation are fine as long as nothing goes inside the vagina and you don’t experience contractions, leaking, or bleeding afterward. You’d need to come to the hospital immediately if any of those things occur.” She never misses a beat as she continues documenting in the computer, a sign this isn’t the first time she’s answered this question, so I feel minimally better about having asked. She finishes her documentation and closes the laptop. “Have any other questions or concerns?”
“I think that’s it.”
I use the drive home to think about what Jack Henry and I will do tonight. I want it to be great, not that it isn’t always, but I deserve something special seeing as I haven’t had an orgasm in eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. That’s crazy. He’ll probably touch me once and I’ll come. Yeah, it’s that bad.
I see Jack Henry on the vineyard as I’m coming up the drive so I stop. He abandons whatever he’s in the middle of doing and walks my way. I watch him coming toward me, in his rugged wear and Indiana Jones hat, and my heart still skips a beat. Oh my, he’s so damn good-looking. I still can’t believe he’s all mine.
He takes a couple of brisk steps before jumping the white fence surrounding the vineyard. “Everything go okay?”
“Yeah.” I reach into my purse to take out the ultrasound picture. “I even have proof.”
He takes it from me and a grin spreads. “My girl is growing.”
“Indeed I am. I gained another two pounds since I saw the doctor last week.”
He holds up the picture. “I meant this girl.”
I knew exactly who he meant. I just wanted to aggravate him the way he does me. “You’re going to feel really weird when this baby comes out a boy.”
“I don’t think so. I feel it deep down in my gut.”
I’m the mother and the baby is inside me. You’d think I’d be the one with the gut feeling. “Okay, clairvoyant one. I hope you can also see a name in your crystal ball since we don’t have one yet.”
“We have plenty of time to come up with the perfect name.”
I’m tired of she, her, he, him, and it. “I’d like to choose one for each gender so I don’t have to continue thinking of this child as nameless.” We look at one another and laugh. “I guess that would be fitting—the nameless companions to have a nameless child.”
“I’m ready for my daughter to have a name, so we’ll work on it this weekend.”
I roll my eyes. “You aren’t going to contribute a boy name, are you?”
He shrugs. “Probably not.”
Maybe I’ll make it a little more appealing for him to think about a boy name. “Then that means I get free rein on the boy name and you can’t veto anything I choose.”
“Fine. Have at it since it doesn’t matter. We won’t be using a boy name so it’s a waste of time—at least this go-round—but maybe the next one will be a boy. I’d like to have one.”
He’s killing me. “I hope this baby comes out with a big ol’ doodle just so I can wipe that smug look off your face.”
“Any son of mine would have a big doodle.”
I can’t believe he’d say that about a baby. “You’re awful.”
He shrugs. “You brought it up.”
I reach for the ultrasound picture. “Give me that. I’m going to the house.” I take it from him and put it in the passenger seat. “What time will you be in?”
He takes his hat off and leans inside my window. The weather is mild today so he’s not hot and sweaty, but he still smells like a working man. It’s sexy as hell. “What time do you want me in?”
He radiates sex and pheromones, almost like he can sense that I got the all-clear from Dr. Sommersby about having an orgasm, and my insides flip. Umm … I’d really like right now, please and thank you, but I remain disciplined. “I don’t have anything special planned so whenever you finish here is fine.” Lie. I have something very special planned. I schemed on it all the way home from my doctor’s appointment.
“Then text me when dinner is almost ready.”
“Will do.”
We clear the table from dinner and Jack Henry tells me he needs to go to his office and make a couple of business calls—couldn’t be more perfect. That’ll give me time to take care of the things I need to do for my special surprise. “No problem. I was planning on reading anyway.” Another lie, but one he won’t mind.
I go into our bedroom and look through my pole-dancing outfits. I’ve accumulated quite a few since we’ve been together but I haven’t worn one in months. I’m not really sure I’ll find one to fit anymore.
None of my one-piece rompers will work—they won’t fit over my belly—so I choose a two-piece skirted cowgirl outfit. I can wear my boots with it so it’s the obvious choice. I don’t intend on attempting the fuck-me pumps. My balance has been so off the last month, I’d fall for sure.
I get ready in the bathroom and listen for Jack Henry before sneaking down the hall toward the gym. I feel safe once I’m there because it’s the last place he’ll come looking for me.
I set up the music, “Anemone” by The Brian Jonestown Massacre, and then the lights before I place his chair front and center. I put a pillow under it within my reach—I’m sure he’ll wonder what that’s for—but a pregnant woman doesn’t tolerate being on her knees for long without some cushioning.
When everything is in its place, I text him to see if he’s finished making his calls. He confirms he is so I tell him to come to the gym. I’m sure he’ll be wondering what I’m up to, but he won’t have time to hash it out. That’s just the way I want it.
When he enters the gym, the deep, dark bass thumps in the darkened room. The sole illumination is the stage light, directed on me. I give him the come-hither and he crosses the room, passing his chair. He’s shaking his head and looks like he wants to drag my ass off the stage and spank it for real. “No, L.”
“I’m not going to do any high climbs, drops, or inverts—absolutely nothing that’ll hurt me or the baby. I just want to dance for you. My feet won’t lift more than two feet off this stage so park your sweet ass in that chair and enjoy the show, caveman.” Then it dawns on me. Maybe this isn’t at all sexy to him. “Unless seeing me dance
with this pregnant belly is a turnoff for you.”
“Baby, nothing you do is a turnoff. You breathe and I’m turned on.” He backs up and sits in his chair. “This better be good. I only have big bills in my wallet.”
His humor has returned, so I know he’s okay with this—as long as I keep it tame.
I begin by backing up against the pole so it’s in the center of my back. I reach overhead, holding it as I bend at my knees, sliding down slowly. When I’m halfway down, I push my knees apart and glide one of my hands down my thigh and then back up again. I straighten to stand and turn to face the pole. My hand grasps it tightly and I step out, taking a whirl around—it’s nothing special and my feet don’t leave the ground, so it’s more than safe.
I’m wearing boots so I couldn’t use my feet to climb if I wanted, but I’m good at using the insides of my thighs for ascending. I squeeze them around the pole and use my upper body strength to lift myself—no more than a couple feet, as promised—and do a two-handed corkscrew. It’s probably one of the easiest moves ever in my book, definitely a beginner level, but it probably looks like I’m doing more than I actually am so I return my feet to the floor before he scolds me.
I decide to not do any more climbs, just basic whirling and erotic dance moves so he doesn’t freak out. That wouldn’t be sexy.
I snake my body around the pole one last time as the song ends and decide I’m done with this. I’ve waited long enough. He’s turned on, I’m turned on, so let’s do this thing. I slink toward him to the beat of the next song, “I’ve Got to See You Again” by Norah Jones. Slow and seductive, just the way I want it.
Beauty From Love Page 22
