by Emerson Rose
“Well, it doesn’t make much difference now does it? You've chosen the date. Is there anything special about March 12th?”
“It’s a nice even number, nearly halfway through the month and, most importantly, soon.”
“Even, huh?”
“Yes, I like balance.”
“Balance?” Now I’m just teasing him.
“Yes, balance. Are you going to keep repeating me?”
“Repeating? Who’s repeating?”
“I do believe the lady is looking for number four.”
“Four is an even number, balanced. I couldn’t only have three punishments, could I?” Oh man, I’m going to get it for that one.
“At this rate, you will be well past four punishments but, yes, now that you mention it, four sounds nice.”
His hands wander along my bare skin under my sweater and I roll onto my back to give him easier access. His skilled fingers feather over my erect sensitive nipples and down between my bare legs. He glides along the inside of my thighs and then slowly along the outside. Later has turned into now and I couldn’t be happier or more ready.
“I could begin punishing you now, you know.”
I don’t want to wait until later to get naked with him, but being the curiosity junkie that I am I have to ask, “How,” I whisper.
“Withholding.”
My neck snaps up, and my eyes fly open. “You wouldn’t!”
“Ah, yes, I would.” He abandons my heated flesh and slides out of bed.
“I. Can. Not. Believe. You!” I yell, as he retreats walking backward out of the room. He smiles and taunts me with a fucking smirk and a wink!
“Don’t mess with the boss, baby.” I pound my fists into the mattress and he smiles wider. He is leaving me hot, frustrated and pissed off! Fuck, he’s infuriating!
I slam my hand down again and roll over onto his side of the bed. His computer and files are still sitting on the side table. An idea hits me, probably a bad one but right now the need for revenge runs like a raging river through my veins.
I sit up and grab the wedding folder and my phone. This ought to scramble his balanced, even ideas all to hell. I start with the florist changing every flower on his list, the color, the quantity and even the type.
We are now having a wedding with orange and yellow lilies with Gerber daisies and sprigs of fern. That’s a far cry from his lovely lavender and cream arrangements of roses, peonies, and orchids. I even threw in a couple blue carnations. The lady at the shop tried to change my mind, and she probably thinks I’m crazy, and I am. I’m crazy mad. Now, on to fuck up the cake.
Two hours later, I’ve almost completely obliterated every single plan he’s carefully and meticulously made when my bladder is screaming, and I can’t stand to hold it anymore.
I stack the papers neatly back into the folder and place it on the table. I send Marcus a text telling him that I’m getting out of bed to pee and I’ve no more than hit send when I hear him holler, “No, you are not!”
So, he isn’t far away. I hope he was at least out of earshot, I want my ‘wedding plans’ to be a surprise. He stalks into the room and swoops me up to deliver me to the bathroom. He is squeezing me tighter than usual. I think he’s pissed. Good.
“You OK?” I ask still sitting on the toilet. Something is off, he doesn’t seem right.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He rests his backside against the vanity and folds his arms across his chest.
“Are you OK?”
“Well, yes, I guess so.” I shrug. “I’m finished.” He moves aside so I can wash my hands and then it’s back to the edge of the boring old bed. After fluffing and fussing my pillows and blankets, he surprises me when he kneels down between my legs and buries his face in my lap.
“What’s this all about?” I ask, softly, sliding my hands over his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“Marcus?”
“I’m sorry.” His words are muffled but I hear him. “I should be on my knees thanking God for you not upsetting you while you’re pregnant with my children.”
He raises his eyes to mine. “You’re incorrigible, you know that, right?” I bite my lip and reach out to touch his cheek but he intercepts my hand and kisses my palm.
“Yes, I know,” he says. He sounds so sad and his shoulders sag in defeat.
“I love you,” I offer and shrug my shoulders like he did earlier today.
“Thank God. Don’t move.” He stands, and I mourn the loss of his body against mine.
“Where are you going?” When he reaches the door, he closes and locks it. He returns to kneeling in front of me. I’m trembling before his hands are even on me.
“Marcus, it’s OK. I forgive you, we don’t have to…”
“Shush.” He quiets me with his finger on my lips and drags it down my chest where he uses it to push me back onto the bed.
When my back hits the mattress, his hands glide over my bare legs. When he reaches my knees he spreads my legs open wide. I suck in a sharp quick breath when his warm lips meet my skin and he begins to kiss a trail to my apex.
He hovers there for a moment and I feel his warm breath against my damp panties. Every muscle in my body is wound tight. I hold my breath and grip the blanket under me waiting for him to bless me with the talents of his tongue.
“I will never tease you again, baby.” I whimper and twitch in anticipation. “I’ll replace these,” he says and snaps the thin band that holds my lace panties together.
He kisses my smooth mound and spreads me open even more to show the rest of my sex the same heavenly attention.
He moans and slides his tongue along my crease and over my sensitive clit. A shock wave of electricity is sent to every corner of my body, mind, and soul.
“Ah, Marcus!” I arch my back to give him more of me, all of me, and he devours me circling, stroking, and caressing every tender fold with his amazing tongue.
My legs slither around his neck, and I’m saturated. He’s turning me inside out, building my orgasm with every lick, every moan until I’m screaming his name.
“Marcus, yes, yes, yes, God, yes!” I pump against his mouth when I come, unabashed and out of control soaring in that narrow place between reality and fantasy.
Always focused and generous, he doesn’t stop until I am limp in his hands and my legs are dangling over his shoulders.
He blows little puffs of warm air on my wet folds, “You taste so fucking good. Shall we go again?”
“Holy shit, Marcus, I haven’t even recovered from that yet.”
“So?”
“So, thank you very much, but a girl’s gotta breathe a little. That was fucking perfect. I’m not sure you can top perfection.”
“Topping perfection is my specialty, baby. Let me show you.”
“Hey, wait, what about you? I’m pretty good with my mouth too, you know.” He rises up and places his arms on either side of me, and I cross my arms behind my head so I can see him.
“This was for you. I’m fine. You know that. And I think you may have a little overactive gag reflex right now so…”
“Being pregnant is kinda sucking so far.”
“I’m flattered that you’re so disappointed but, really, watching you gag on my cock isn’t on my erotic fantasy list. I can wait.”
“Yuck, that’s a nasty visual. How about I use my hands?”
“Maybe later; I’m going to feed you now.”
I raise my eyebrows and shrug, “Okay, I could eat, I’m starving.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll get you another pair of these.” He dangles the shred of lace that used to be my panties above my head.
“Destroyed,” I say pitifully.
“All for a good cause, though.”
“Oh yes, a very good cause.”
“I think you may have enjoyed it as much as I did,” he says.
“What? Um, I think I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than you did.”
“Oh, Imani, you have no
idea how much satisfaction I get from making you come. You’re so responsive, so sensitive, so fucking sexy.”
I feel the heat of a blush creep up my neck to my cheeks and I raise my hands to cover it. When I do, I skim a stray receipt on the bed and remember the massively messed up wedding plans.
“I have something to confess.” He returns to the bedside from the dresser and slips a fresh pair of panties up my legs and tucks me into bed.
“What’s that?”
“Well, I was mad you see…”
“Yes, you were, and?”
“Well I sorta… I kinda… I changed all of your wedding plans. I was pissed, and you left the file. I’m so sorry. It’s a horrible mess. Everything is royally fucked up.” He smiles knowingly, and I realize my revenge was futile.
“Don’t worry. Everything has been switched back to the original orders. My people would never let anyone change my bookings without my approval. You got away with it this time, and you’re still at four, although, I really should make it five but, as you know, I like even numbers.” All of those phone calls, for nothing. His little snitches called and told on me.
“Don’t be angry. After the first three phone calls, I began realizing how upset you must be to sabotage your own wedding to get revenge on me. That is also what made me realize I was being an big fucking ass, leaving you alone and frustrated in your delicate condition.”
“Delicate? I am not delicate. I’m pregnant!” I hate pity in any form even if it’s well intended.
“Alright, not delicate. Maybe that was a poor choice of words. How about precarious, is that better? Your pregnancy is complicated, and I shouldn’t be stressing you out. I should be looking after you, like you have always done for me,” he says with regret.
“I wasn’t that mad, frustrated, yes, but mad, not really. You’ve actually been kind of funny lately. You’re playful and ornery. I like it.”
“So, now you are saying you want me to tease you?”
“No, definitely not. But the scoring system is kind of fun. I’m interested to find out what kind of punishment you plan on giving me. As long as it’s not withholding, I don’t like that one bit.”
He laughs, “Oh, so, now you want to dabble in submission? I do say, pregnancy is bringing out some interesting facets of your personality.”
I shrug, “Well, I’m not opposed to trying new things.” His brows shoot up in surprise.
“I’m going to end this conversation while I am ahead, my love. Your newfound willingness to explore unknown avenues is making me hard.”
With that, he steps into the bathroom to wash up. He passes through the bedroom again shaking his head in disbelief and leaves me alone to go and make our lunch.
What the hell has gotten into me? I have never given kinky sex a second thought until today. I think he’s right; this pregnancy is changing me in a very untraditional way.
One Hundred One
“That’s it. I’m not staying in this bed another day. Call the doctor and get me an appointment, three days with no bleeding has to be long enough.” Marcus reaches to pat me on the shoulder from where he is working next to me in bed. In bed, Lord, I’m sick to death of beds. Hospital beds, gurneys, big expensive beds with canopies, filmy white gauze and drapes; I am boycotting all beds!
“You have an appointment this afternoon.”
“I do?” Oh, thank God and all the chubby cherubs in heaven above. I’m getting out of this bed, this room, this house! I’m going outside, I get to ride in a car! I feel like a dog getting to go for a car ride after being pent up in a kennel for three days.
It’s just the doctor’s office but who cares. Maybe they will take me off of complete bed rest, there’s always hope.
“What time?”
“At two o’clock.”
“Oh, that’s three hours away.” I groan and roll to my side to enjoy the view of my husband tapping away on his laptop. He looks very professional and studious in his glasses. I didn’t know until recently that he even wore glasses. He only has them for working on the computer but I’ve grown attached to the look, it’s sexy.
“We are going to need those hours to get you ready.”
“I’m not that bad off, am I?” I say lifting up the sheet to look. Nope, I look perfectly fine.
“Of course not. I have been taking care of you. It goes without saying that you are in perfect order. I just thought since it's an obstetrical appointment you might want to be, you know, extra…”
“Extra what, glittery? I’m sure any OB doctor is pretty used to the female anatomy. They’re all pretty similar.”
“Yes, you are probably right.”
“No probably about it, I am right.”
“Spunky today, aren’t you?”
“I’m fucking glad to be getting out of here.”
He closes his laptop and sets it aside.
“You know I kind of like holding you held prisoner here in our bed.”
“Yeah, you would,” I snort
“Your placenta is the only thing that has ever kept you from sneaking away from me.”
I swear he’s nuts. Does he think I’m going to spend my life chained to this stupid bed? I prop up on my elbows and narrow my eyes at him in, “Marcus, what are you planning to do when these kids are born? You can’t hold me captive like a slave in your castle. We are going to be busy. And I’d like to go back to work part-time, I miss my job.”
“I will be home with you and the babies. I don’t expect you to be a slave, Imani. I just…”
“Just what?”
“You know how I feel about this.”
He sweeps his hand in my direction. “This is too good to be true. You are too good to be true, I don’t deserve any of it. I want to spend as much time as possible with you because I see this black impending cloud of doom hanging over us.
I will always be afraid that you will be snatched away from me as a punishment for my sins. Forgive me for wanting to keep you close.” He slides his hand across the sheets and covers mine.
“I love you and soon I will have to share you with two other people who will need your love, too.”
“Stop, stop, stop.” I’m on my knees crawling across the bed into his lap feeling all kinds of horrible. He wants to have me to himself while he can. I know the feeling. And he loves me. I can’t fault him for that.
I press my lips against his neck, “I love you, too. It’s OK, I’m not going anywhere. Well, nowhere far anyway. My heart is big enough to love all of you. This isn’t a mistake, Marcus. Everything happens for a reason. We were brought together and given these babies for a reason. We may not know exactly what it is, but please, stop believing you’re not worthy of love and happiness.”
After a tight squeeze and a chaste kiss on the top of my head, he carries me to the en-suite bathroom to help me shower and get “glittery clean” for the obstetrician.
“Can you button those?” He asks when he sees me struggling with the stupid button on my jeans.
“Of course I can, these are my favorite jeans. I wear them all the time.” Oh my God. It’s happening, isn’t it? I’m getting fat! “Maybe if I lie back on the bed, I can get it.” I continue to struggle with the button. I refuse to believe that my body is changing. Marcus smirks and crosses his arms over his chest to watch the show. I try again on my back with no success. I think I might cry.
“I will get you something else, baby, it’s OK.”
“No, it’s not OK. Why can’t babies grow in a pod on the dresser, why do they have to ruin my body?”
“Nothing could ruin your body but if you’re worried about staying in shape we can ask the doctor if it’s safe for you to start swimming. I’m dying to get back into the water, too, and Doctor Lorenzo says it’s OK for me now. That will be fun, we can swim laps together every morning.” He hands me a pair of leggings… great.
“Yeah, sure, swimming. Fun.” I grab the leggings as he peels my jeans from my growing body. When they are off he crouches down t
o eye level with me and tweaks my nose like a kid.
“It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” I bat his hand away and stuff my feet into the leggings which I have to admit are much more comfortable than my unforgiving jeans.
“All set?”
“Yeah, but it’s too early to leave yet.”
“We are going downstairs for lunch first.”
“You’re going to let me walk?” I straighten up in excitement.
“No, don’t be silly. I will carry you down, but I think it should be OK to sit at the table by now, don’t you?” I sag my shoulders. I can’t walk, but I’m going to sit at the big kids’ table, whoopee. Lately the things I have to look forward to are pathetic.
He loads me up and we start out toward the kitchen. The smell of bacon assaults me, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. My God, it smells like someone cooked an entire pig in this house.
“You OK?”
“Mmhm, I think so,” I say under my hand. “It’s just the bacon smell. Why is it so strong?”
“I think you have a heightened sense of smell, baby, it’s not that strong. Mr. Black is making BLTs.”
“Black, where’s Maria?” He clears his throat nervously and I ask again, “Where the hell has Maria been? You said she had a cold, but I haven’t seen her since we came home. You’re keeping something from me. I know it. Now spill.”
“Okay, don’t get upset.”
“Too late, I’m upset. Something’s going on with her, and you haven’t told me.”
“Shush, Damn it, I wish you would stop getting so distraught. It’s not good for you or the babies.”
That’s it. I jerk in his arms and he stops. I wiggle out of his grasp and whirl around to face him toe to toe.
“I will be so much more upset if you don’t start telling me things. Important things. I’m not an invalid. I’m fucking pregnant, now tell he what happened to her.” I try to stay calm but by time I’m done ranting, I’m shouting and stomping my foot.
“She’s in the hospital.” I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but he intercedes grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around, so my back is to his front. His hand covers my mouth. He moves like a fucking ninja. I never even anticipated the attack.
