by K. L. Jessop
We’re greeted by James and Karen at the front pew of the church. This in itself makes me anxious: I’ll be on full show if I should have to turn and leave.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” James smiles, dressed in a black winter coat and dark jeans. “Ruby is so excited about this, I’ve never heard her practice so much. I’m sick of hearing that Goddamn Away In A Manger song.”
“James!” Karen hisses in a whisper as people filter in. “You can’t say ‘Goddamn’ when we’re inside church.”
He looks at her with a smirk. “Well you just did.”
I respond with a nervous laugh, only because I don’t want to bring attention to myself for not really wanting to be here. Noel gestures for me to take a seat in the pew but just before I sit down, I turn and throw my arms around him. “Tell me I can do this.” I whisper.
“I don’t have to, angel because you already are.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He lifts my chin; his brown eyes take away the uneasiness inside. “You can do this. You’re stronger than you think.”
“I don’t want to let Ruby down. My sadness shouldn’t take over her big night.”
His smile melts my heart as his lips kiss mine with delicacy. “I love you.”
His arms snake inside my coat and his cold hands smooth the small of my back, causing me to shiver as I rest my head on his chest. The architecture of the church ceiling catches my attention and my eyes slowly work their way up. As I look over the deep carvings of the old historic building a new feeling overcomes me, pushing aside the angst that’s gripping my stomach. The thick, detailed bands of oak, gold, red and royal blue line the interior, leading down to the arches that hold the building together either side of tall rainbow-like windows. Heavy church candles, more oak wood and spindly, iron framework decorate the altar. I never noticed before just how beautiful a church can be. An unusual sensation comes over me: a hot and cold tingle cascades my spine enough to take my breath away and I squeeze Noel tighter. It’s in this moment of being here—seeing the children sitting in their seats with wide smiles, the six-foot Christmas tree in the corner, and the hum of festive cheers echoing around—that I understand the emotion it brought my Grandparents when they came to watch me. Moments like this brought them pride, unconditional love and belief. I just have to overcome the dull ache in my chest and learn to do the same. “Always believe,” I whisper, as though my recognition is a sign I received from above.
“That’s my girl.”
He kisses my head and we take a seat. The glance from Noel and the soft smile is all I need to know that I can do this, but even though I know I can, there’s no way I can let go of his hand.
“I can’t find Ruby,” I whisper to him as the church goes silent.
“Second row, third from the right. She’s not seen us yet. James told her we couldn’t come.”
Father Michael steps forward with a smile on his face. He looks no different to when I saw him all those years ago. If anything, his white hair is thinner and the ageing lines on his face are more prominent.
“Good evening. We are gathered here on this night of December for St John’s School—”
“Uncle No-No!” Ruby yells with a huge grin, stopping Father Michael and causing her teacher to hush her. Noel grins and waves while James curses under his breath.
Father Michael continues. “The school choir have been outstanding in their performances over the years, and tonight will be no different. I have had the pleasure of—”
“Hey, Aunt Tamzin,” she beams, brushing her hair from her face and turning to her friend. “Aunt Tamzin is having a baby you know, and will have to push it out of her bottom soon.” The entire congregation sniggers, and I’m now thankful we’re sitting at the front and no heads are able to turn in my direction. “I heard Uncle No-No say to my daddy that she cried the other day because her pants are too small now.”
Fuck my life.
I’m publicly destroyed by a five-year-old.
“Ruby Thompson,” her teacher warns. My cheeks are on fire and Noel silently chuckles beside me.
“I wonder if she’ll pee like my mummy did.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Karen’s head falls into her hand and I can’t help but laugh now. Ruby, at this point, clearly doesn’t give a shit about the fact that her school is here to perform and has turned the service into an open mic night for infants. She’s loving the reaction from the audience and the giggling of the other kids.
“Ruby-Louise be quiet!” Karen hisses, a hidden smile beneath it not going unnoticed.
Father Michael decides to abandon his speech and just jumps to the first carol of the night—Away In A Manger—whilst the head mistress takes hold of Ruby’s hand and moves her to sit next to her as punishment—not that it stops her in any way.
“Uncle No-No, did you and Tamzin get a baby like Mary and Joseph?”
“Not quite, sweet pea. It took a little more work than that,” he replies causing everyone to laugh.
I hit him on the arm. “Stop encouraging her.”
“What? She asked an educational question.”
As the hum of the church organs start and people quieten down ready to bellow out in song, James sit’s forward and turns towards us. “Now I know why they made her a donkey: the kid is an arse.”
The four of us burst out in silent laughter to the point where I have to wipe my eyes. All traces of the anxiety within me have gone, and I can’t thank Ruby enough. If every church service was like this, then I’d happily go every damn Sunday.
Tamzin.
“Mary?”
“No,” I sigh, resting my head on Noel’s lap while he strokes my hair. We are sitting on the sofa in front of the open fire in our nearly-matching, winter pyjamas that he insisted on buying. It’s Sunday evening, it’s icy out and we’re making the most of our quiet time before another hectic week of work starts. I officially have one week left, and I can’t wait to kick back and do nothing. Although, having said that, I’ve written another list of ‘to dos’ that is as long as my arm because nesting mode is slowly creeping in.
“Ivy?”
“Nope.”
“Nick?”
“Stop looking around the room and finding things that resembles Christmas to come up with baby names,” I laugh. “This baby is not being named after foliage or a made-up story from our childhood.”
“Hey.” He pokes me in the ribs. “I’ll have you know that Santa is real.”
I smile, turning back to the baby name book Evie bought us. “What about Richard if it’s a boy?”
“Fuck no.”
“Why not?”
“My son will not be known as a dick.”
I laugh. Some of the names in here are ridiculous. “What about Fanny,” I tease.
“Come again.”
“Can you imagine the trouble it would have in school if we were to have a daughter and call her that?”
“And if we were to have both and still call the boy Richard?”
I burst out laughing. “Dick and Fanny Thompson.”
Noel takes the book from me and scans the pages, reading out more bizarre names, while I slowly smooth my hands over my bump and smile once it kicks back. I’ve finally started to think of my birthing plan, although as for packing my bag, it’s still left untouched in the nursery. I’ve too many more important things to think about other than throwing a few clothes into a bag when I’ll be too drugged up to even care about it.
“What about Quince for a boy?” Noel asks.
“We’re having a baby not a puppy.” Neither of us can settle on a name and it’s starting to worry me. What if we’ll never be able to name it? Is this common with first-time parents? What if it grows up and resents the name we choose? What if it resents us altogether?
Jesus, why is this so hard?
Suddenly getting uncomfortable with my own thoughts, I push myself up and stand from the sofa. My bladder is once again full and I’ve not long come back from
the bathroom. The further into this pregnancy I get, the more the constant sickness is draining. The more my body aches, the more my feet hurt and I’m convinced my ankles are swollen, even when Noel tells me they’re not. I’m tired and frustrated.
“Massage my feet,” I demand, once I return. He has left the sofa and drawn the curtains, shutting out the night as the glow from the fire and the Christmas tree fill the room. The orange and cinnamon aroma lingers around the house from the scented candles.
“I can’t, angel. There’s a risk it brings on early labour.”
My eyes widen, both shocked that he’s refusing and surprised of his knowledge, regardless as to whether it’s right or not. “You’ve clearly been reading too many pregnancy magazines.”
“You clearly haven’t been reading enough,” he states with a grin.
“Well, if you’re not going to rub my feet, can you at least fuck me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Again, I’m taken aback at his response; a little annoyed. The last thing a pregnant woman wants to hear when she feels the size of a sea lion is how her man has to consider bedding her. “You need to think about fucking me?”
Irritation bubbles inside when he ignores my question and puts on that same Christmas CD he plays every Goddamn year, and I have to fight the urge not to snap it in two and shove it up his arse.
“Dance with me, Tami?”
“Answer my question,” I snap.
He comes towards me in a confident step, removing his shirt to reveal his washboard chest and tribal tattoo. Even annoyed with him, I can’t deny the need to have him. What pisses me off more is the fact he knows it. “I will fuck you but I would also like my dick to still be intact. Dance with me first; settle your mood.”
“What mood?”
“The one you’ve clearly just found in the bathroom.”
His reply is controlled, and I curse inwardly at myself and at how my hormones spike without realising. I hate taking things out on him. I go to apologise but he places his finger on my lips. “Shh. You don’t have to.”
He takes my hand and pulls me closer, holding my jaw and placing a sweet kiss on my mouth before we begin to sway to the music. It’s not the CD I thought although still Christmas but classical, with soft violins and pianos.
“I’ve not heard this before,” I exhale, falling into his proximity.
“I bought it the other day. I read that soft music calms the baby. I thought it would help you relax.”
I smile. “When have you read all this stuff?”
“When I was in Paris.”
Wanting to get closer, I twirl in his arms so my back is to his front. The soft music and glow of the tree changes the mood and sends me into a haze of longing. Want. Adoration. The feel of his breath against my neck and the warmth of him travel through my nightshirt, but I still don’t feel close enough. “I need to feel your skin.” I murmur, as we sway. His hands leave my hips to take the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head to discard it on the floor. The heat of the flickering fire tingles my bare nipples as I fall into the deep muscle of the man behind me, enveloping me in his arms. My eyes close when his lips press to my shoulder and neck, his large hands flat on my rounding stomach.
The whimper I try to hold leaves the back of my throat and my sex begins to pulse when his fingertips tease the waistband of my pyjama bottoms. I feel his grin against my neck. This man is my undoing and he damn well knows it. “Your breathing has changed, angel. Are you feeling better?”
I nod and whisper, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just relax.”
“I’m relaxed now.”
And sexually aroused.
“I know.”
The feel of his arousal pressing into me through the thin fabric increases the rising and falling of my chest, and when he removes my bottoms it fuels the burning desire that’s rapidly building inside me faster than I can control. The tremor in my legs has me reaching to hold his nape, lacing my fingers through his hair. “Noel…” I plead, with hunger.
Turning my head with his fingers, he finds my mouth, parting my lips with his tongue and plunging it inside. His kiss is powerful and owning as his fingers continue to tantalise down my waist to my hips before slowly sweeping across my skin to tease my pubic bone. The presence of this man still surprises me with every touch, and with every trace I fall into his beautiful seduction, even when he hasn’t even touched me yet. He knows my body better than I do and he knows what torment he’s putting my body under. He is loving every second.
“Noel.”
“Yes, angel?”
“I need to come.”
Walking us forward he guides us back to the sofa, pushing me down so I get on all fours and rest my arms on the cushion. I cry out when his palm makes contact with my arse, heightening the arousal that’s pooling between my thighs.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he growls, dropping his pyjama bottoms to the floor before kneeling behind me. My blood is boiling. I need him inside me so bad.
I buck my hips and moan when his hand comes between my thighs and his fingers slip into my scorching core.
“You’re so wet, angel.”
“You always seem so surprised.”
Hot wet kisses roam across my shoulder blades before the tips of his tongue draws up my spine as he fucks me with his fingers. Before long, I’m gripping the cushion and crying his name as my climax rips through me.
“Has that made you feel better?”
I can hear the grin in his question, but I need more. My body burns for something much more powerful and only he can fix that.
“It’s not enough.” My voice is thick with desperation. His hard cock teases and torments my entrance. “I need more. I need you inside me.”
“But you’ve just had me inside you, angel. My fingers love your hot pussy.”
He plunges a finger inside again before trailing the wetness up to tease my arse hole. My breathing intensifies and my knuckles turn white. He knows I love this and how it’s tormenting me not having him inside. That’s the one thing he won’t do while I’m pregnant. Instead, to remind me of what I’m missing, he pushes in a finger while his other hand comes back to my clit.
“Yes,” the pressure of him inside me, his fingers playing with my pussy and the feel of him caging me is more than I can take and I climax again. The heat of the fire has my skin covered in perspiration and my need for him is driving me wild.
“Noel,”
“Yes, angel.”
“Please,” I gasp.
“Your dirty mouth can do better than that.” He leans over me; his breath hits my ears with a demanding whisper. “Say it.”
“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”
“How?”
“I don’t give a shit how just do it.”
His low laugh and strong grip on my hips has me moaning when he pushes inside. He’s so deep, my eyes blur with the fullness of him. Once I adjust around him, he doesn’t hold back and his thrusts come hard and fast just how I want them. He’s not hurting me but the pressure is so intense it robs me of my breath.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, pulling my upper body to arch my back. I match his moves, pushing back on him so he hits the sweet spot. My body is a blaze and the burn briskly takes over my legs, travelling to my core whilst I scream his name. I contract around his cock as my orgasm ruptures through me like a volcano. My legs quiver and the blood pounds in my ears. My throat is dry from my panting as I try and control my breathing. Two more thrusts and my name is a hungry growl off his lips as he fills me with his own heat.
“God, I love you,” I pant, loosing strength as my upper body collapses to the cushions.
“And here I was thinking it was me you loved?” That low laugh rumbles from his chest once more as he pulls out, kissing my arse cheek before coming to a stand.
“Call April, tell her my blood pressure is high,” I giggle.
“Are you, all right?�
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“Yeah,” I breathe. “Although I don’t think I can walk. You’ve ruined me.”
He laughs. “Come here; I’ll carry you to bed.”
I push him away playfully, still weak. “No thanks I’ll stay here and sleep.”
“You’re pregnant you can’t sleep on the sofa.”
“But it’s okay to fuck me here?”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.” He scoops his arms under me to help me stand before hooking his arm around my back and under my legs.
“Noel, don’t. I’m heavy.”
“You are not,” he laughs. “Besides, I need you well rested if I’m going to fuck you again.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus.”
Noel.
The buzz of my phone vibrating on my desk brings me out of my trance as I stare out the large windows of my office overlooking the busy city. The cold damp air hangs in a fine mist over the skyscraper buildings while coloured Christmas lights illuminate the streets due to the dull afternoon sky.
Tamzin: This is the second time today I’ve woken up and you’ve not been here. I hate that. Xx
I left her in bed sleeping this morning as I went out for a run before work; I wanted to try to clear my head, only it seemed to make it worse. I’ve not been able to concentrate all day. On anything. For the last few hours all I’ve done is stare at my computer screen when I should be sending emails to Maxwell in Chicago to help him sort my finances out in Paris. My mind just wanders between work, Tamzin, the baby, and unnecessary shit I don’t need to be thinking about. I haven’t slept well these last few nights. I keep having the same dream, and I can’t work out why. All I see is a bright light and a hand that grips my shoulder, and when I turn to see the person standing behind me, I wake. I wouldn’t consider it a nightmare but it brings me out of sleep and leaves me ice cold, all the way to the bone.
