“Goddamn, Izzy.” He’s a man of few words, but I know what he means.
I’m the first to break the lock our eyes have on each other. Switching my attentions to my bag of lip colors and looking for the nude colored one Mazzy had made for me for my birthday last month. Champagne Dreams. Found it. I lean over to get a better view and Diego has to clear his throat. Looking at our reflections in the mirror, I let out a guilty laugh. Leaning in to put on the lip gloss caused my ass to push out with Diego standing right behind me.
“Really, Izzy,” he pleas. “You’re killing me, bella.”
“Done,” I say, standing up. A glance at the clock says I’m actually done early. “And with time to spare,” I boast knowing there really isn’t.
Diego is breathtaking in his black linen suit with a black t-shirt underneath. It’s nearly eighty degrees out at eight o’clock at night; I think comfort would have become an issue in a dress shirt and tie. Besides, I like the mix. It brings out the bad boy I fell in lust with. He’s chosen to go barefoot and my knees shake a little. There’s something about this fully dressed man and his bare feet. I continue to take him in on the way back up. Landing on his lips, he’s smiling like he knows the effect he has on me. I look in his eyes and I see the hunge—
“Let’s get going before I’m too hungry for something else,” he says, undoing the spell.
With the staff gone and the boat to ourselves, we have the sundeck on the bow of the boat set up with a bed and dessert in the center. Dinner was amazing. Dessert looks to be even better. Strawberries, fresh whipped cream, cheesecake bites, and champagne with the man I love. If it never gets better than this, I’d always be happy.
We take turns feeding each other, avoiding the same kind of mess we gladly made earlier this afternoon. After we’ve had our fill, I asked Diego if he’d clear the bed while I went to get something. He pouted at first. Whining about wanting to undress me. I assured him he had nothing to worry about.
With his gift in hand, my nerves kick in again. My feet start to drag. It feels like my brain and my body are disconnected. I stop just inside the door leading out to the sun deck. I catch a glimpse of my husband. My saint. My Diego. He sits there looking out at the horizon. I follow his gaze and I see what he sees. The moon looks close enough to touch and bigger than the sun. I stare along with him and I feel the resolve and confidence build inside me.
The first step past the threshold was the hardest. Each step closer to Diego stirs to life the butterflies in my stomach. I round the corner and call out to him.
“There you are,” he says softly.
I crawl onto the bed and he sweeps my feet up into his hands. He studies the crystal covered pumps before slipping each one off and dropping them to the floor. He crawls up the length of me, hovering when his eyes are level with mine. “Is that it?” he asks.
“What?” I ask. Confusion clears up and I remember the box in my hand. “Oh,” I exclaim when I make the connection. “Yup, this is for you.”
Before I can hesitate to hand it to him, he snaps it from my hands and tears into it. Paper flies and the bow flutters to the bed. He pops open the box and I hold my breath. He studies the contents for some time, I’m gasping for air before he says a single word.
Diego pulls out the plastic baggie with his present in it, letting the box fall. “Izzy?” he says my name like a question, I detect anticipation.
“Diego,” I answer back.
“What’s this?” I shoot him a look that asks if he’s serious. “I know what it is, but what is this?” He waves it in front of him. He’s having troubling articulating his thoughts.
“Two pink lines,” I answer as if it’s completely obvious.
“I love you, Izzy, but could you stop with the cryptic and just spell it out?”
I smile from ear to ear. How can I say no to that?
“I’m pregnant.”
He drops the plastic wrapped stick and scoops me up. “Really?” he asks in disbelief.
I nod, my excitement robbing me of words.
After losing the first baby and all we faced with Sasha, we decided that a baby could wait. We were going to explore the new country we called home. I played the dutiful wife of a premiere athlete and to my surprise, I liked what it meant for me. I continued working with We Are Women and started my own organization for young female entrepreneurs.
We were waiting.
With all that I took on, some days were easy, others not so much. So I blogged. It was a good way to let go of the day and embrace the new one. It quickly grew. Three years later and we have more than twenty thousand subscribers. In the first twelve months, demand for what I had to say and share required a weekly schedule and additional contributors.
So we waited.
Diego and I do a fitness section together. When we share our weekly video, our social media notifications seem to never stop, our inbox is never without an unread message. I convinced Baz and Lito to help me with a cooking segment. It worked for a bit, but Baz went back to the States two years ago. You gotta go when opportunity knocks. Mazzy and I do a Manic Monday with music discussions that often involve us talking over each other and an eclectic playlist. Mazzy made London her permanent home when her twin brothers were accepted at the University of Oxford. She started a small label for special projects.
So we waited.
We traveled around the United Kingdom and the surrounding countries. Wherever we went, we found something for him and something for me. If nothing else, we caught a football game and a musical performance. In Italy, the musical performance was Madame Butterfly.
We found a rhythm with our lives and eighteen months ago, we decided we were done waiting. Fate has had a different plan. Call us unlucky or untimely, but in eighteen months of trying, I’ve never had a need to even buy a pregnancy test.
So we waited.
“I took two tests to be sure,” I offer as reassurance. “Both positive.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks with concern.
“Horny,” I declare.
“Oh, that’s right. My pregnant wife likes to get her freak on,” he teases, slipping his hand up my dress. He tries to pout when he finds the silky barrier isn’t in place, but his hungry fingers explore my inner thighs with hungry strokes, quickly switching to my clit and sinking two fingers into me. He flicks up and flips my switch. My body is buzzing with the promise of a boat-rocking orgasm. I meet each of his glorious movements with a swirl of my hips, chasing the first of the many orgasms I know are coming.
I’m chasing no more. Diego’s thumb rubs against my sensitive nub. My back arches and my cry dies somewhere in the sky above the ocean. His thumb begins to catch a rhythm and I feel myself rising and falling. Rising and falling as my orgasm ripples through my tightly wound body.
When my orgasm resides, I’m left breathless and panting. Diego dives in for a kiss that robs me of my labored breaths and breathes life into my very soul. I match his tempo and melt into him with every swirl of his tongue, nip of his teeth, and suck of his mouth.
Frantic to get to the part where our bodies become one, I tug at his jacket, his t-shirt, the button on his pants. Diego reaches behind me to undo my zipper. It’s an impossible task while I’m trying to undress him so he waits. I turn around and lift my hair, so he can get to the zipper with ease.
The toothed closure buzzes in the night and I can feel it in my pussy. I clench and will him to increase his torturous speed. He doesn’t, but eventually reaches the bottom where he cups my ass and pulls the dress up and off of me. The cool ocean air instantly pebbles my nipples, drawing the attention of my husband.
Lying back, I pull him down with me. He laves at my right breast before I can stop him. “No,” I pant. “In me. Now,” I order.
His smile says he’s going to give me exa
ctly what I wa—
“Ohhhh,” I cry out when he slams into me as his cock bottoms out. “Oh, Diego, please,” I beg.
“What do you want, Izzy?”
“You. Well, you and your cock.”
“Looks like you’ve already got both. Now, what?”
“Fuck me. Please,” I’m not above begging. Diego fucks me so good, I’d beg him every day if it was necessary.
Diego drops his face to mine, staring into my eyes, his hips still. “Izabella Santo, eres la razón por la que mi corazón late.” I am the reason his heart beats. He increases the speed of his hips. “I love you…” His tempo making it harder for him to talk. “So much, so much.”
As he pumps in and out of me, I can feel my next orgasm building. “Ohh,” I blurt when he bumps my clit in just the right way. “Ohh. Ohh.” I’m so close. “Diego…” I look into his eyes and he’s just as close. I lift my feet and hook them behind his back. My hips shift and I take him deeper. He pounds into me with quick, short strokes and the repetition is driving me insane. I feel like I’m never going to burst. My matching gyrations become frantic. I’m chasing again and the smirk Diego’s wearing is one that I’m used to. He doesn’t make me suffer long. His rhythm steady, he reaches between us and slides his hand down to the apex of my swollen mound. He lightly flicks my nub, successfully making the need for release that much greater. I gasp in frustration. He repeats the flick. The building pressure and the withheld orgasm snap my control. I let out a feral cry into the night and Diego takes that moment to give me the friction I’ve been chasing. His fingers press down on my hardened button, swirling and rubbing while he punishes me with his cock, his hips.
“Fuck. Yesssss,” I praise when my orgasm is finally coaxed out of me. My body convulses. My pussy milks his cock. Diego keeps pounding into me, reigniting the dissipating orgasm. This time, when the walls of my core bear down on his cock, Diego erupts with a groan.
We catch our breaths and our hearts return to a slow and steady beat. We lay under the stars, holding each other.
“Izzy,” he interrupts my rapture. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.” My eyes leak with the sentiment and I sniffle. “No llores, mi bella preciosa. We’re going to have a baby, no time for crying.”
I think about what it’ll be like seeing Diego with our baby in his arms and I’m already in love.
“Say it,” I order Diego.
He does without hesitation.
“I love you so much, so much.”
“How much?”
“So much, so much.”
“You’re going to be a great dad,” I whisper before the stars go out as my eyes close.
“I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks,
and ever thanks...”
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night (Act II, Scene 3)
To my amazing husband, thanks for everything. Thanks for not flipping out about my ridiculous reading habits, for getting on board with me chasing my dreams, for pick up the slack where I seemed to drop the ball, and for being the man they write stories about. I love you so much, so much. #LYSMSM
To my daughters, never stop dreaming. With hard work, perseverance, and a few good friends, anything is possible…but in the meantime, live, laugh, love, and unicorns.
To my forever friends and besties thanks for being the wind beneath my wings…
Misty, without a doubt you have been one of my biggest cheerleaders and supporters. Thanx for always being there with mani/pedi, coffee, a hike or just a much needed break from life. Your unwavering support of me chasing my dreams is beyond words. I love you.
Kelley, my Supernatural Siren, my fellow Book Vamp…thanx for getting on the crazy train that is the book world with me. Thanx for suffering through a troubling part in Love Takes Your Breath Away, just so I could clear up my clit issue. LMFAO…Oh, and here’s to playing pretend; let it always make it so. Love you.
To my readers...thank you so much, so much for your continued support, for being a fan of my Izzy and Diego and for reading. If you go into publishing a book with eyes wide open, you know that not everyone will like it, but you hope that someone, somewhere will. Thank you for being that someone, somewhere.
To my mom who has always supported and encouraged my reading habits. My love affair with books began with Are You My Mother? and Dr. Seuss books, but it was my first Nancy Drew book that truly triggered my incessant need for more words, more stories. Have I ever told you how much I love you?
Caleigh Hernandez is a not-so-perfect mom of two beautiful daughters, a terrible housekeeper, and sometimes, a doting wife. A few years ago, she decided to take life by the horns and throw caution to the wind. She went back to school, earning a degree in Web & Multimedia Design where her long-time passion for writing was reignited with a creative writing class. It was during her final term when she conceived a story she just had to tell.
When not buried in the ridiculousness of everyday life, you can find Caleigh curled up with her Kindle devouring a book, watching crime dramas (she’s obsessed), screaming at the TV while watching her Golden State Warriors, San Jose Sharks, Oakland Raiders or Oakland A’s, getting cozy with a good superhero flick, or getting her adrenaline fix on a roller coaster. She hates cleaning and loathes laundry. She’s a shoe whore that lives in flip flops and loves to be barefoot.
In the immortal words of her husband, “Caleigh Hernandez is a bad ass bitch.”
Visit her website or one of her many social media profiles at:
www.authorcaleighhernandez.com
https://www.facebook.com/CaleighHernandezAuthor/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/Caleighs.Beauties.Saints.Sinners/
https://www.instagram.com/caleighhernandezauthor/
https://twitter.com/CaleighWrites
Love Needs Another Chance (Truth About Love #3) Page 30
