“Sweet one? I definitely must tell you something. Something I should have told you before you became so angry with me yesterday.” He hated how her lovely face tightened with concern and hastened to explain.
“Nothing is wrong. I love you. I want you with me always. But I may have jumped the gun, however inadvertently. I may have made you pregnant.”
“What?”
“The condom failed.” Perhaps he could have sugarcoated the news, made it less of a shock, considering what she’d gone through, but it felt right to just put it out there.
“Oh.” Iris wrinkled her nose. She appeared to be deep in thought, and George waited patiently.
“Well, if I am, then I suppose you’ll just have to step up, Georgios. I find this Lifestyle is something I want to embrace, and Haley and her men have set such a fine example. I expect you to measure up, mister.” The acceptance and teasing note in her voice broke the tension he hadn’t known was building in his gut. She wasn’t averse to having his baby, despite the whirlwind courtship.
“I will step up, sweet one, and do my utmost to measure up to all of your expectations. You have my word on it.” He claimed her lips again and explored the sweet recesses of her mouth. He hadn’t done so often enough before. There were many things they had yet to do, and if she was expecting, then they’d need to fit them in quickly because he wasn’t going to endanger his child. He felt a little giddy at the thought. A submissive, a wife, a baby, and his past solved, all in the space of a week. He was blessed.
George hated her athletic outfit. The clothing was in his way. He impatiently rolled her to and fro, yanking at the fabric to the sound of her giggles as he struggled to undress her. They were hardly the actions of an accomplished Dom, and he could see the humor in it. He finally settled for pulling the top up and shoving the sports bra along with it in order to access her breasts. He nipped and suckled at them until she was moaning and writhing beneath him, her hands restlessly roaming through his hair and over his back, all signs of her laughter gone, replaced with need.
He sat up and yanked his shirt free of his pants and over his head, tossing it to the side, smiling at her protests. He had to ease his zipper down to free his erection, a bit worried about catching something important. Iris watched him solemnly, although her eyes flared when his cock sprang free. He kicked away his shoes and forced the rest of his clothing off. She lay, dishevelled and half dressed, even her sneakers still on, and he could barely restrain himself to don a condom. He yanked her pants down to her knees and somehow made a space for himself between her thighs. She was wet and welcoming, and he thrust forward with no quarter, sinking to the hilt. Her channel pulsed around him, hot and slick even through the latex, and George fought not to come.
They lay, fitted together like puzzle pieces, made for one another. He rested his forehead on hers and let his weight slowly press her down, his elbows locked to hold her still, hands gently grasping her face. He impulsively rubbed her nose with his own, and she blinked up at him then clenched her inner muscles. It was a signal, and he pumped his hips against her silky skin, reveling in the feel of her. She was harder to penetrate with her knees bound by the material of her sweat pants, and he settled in for a long, celebratory fuck. Iris let him take her, soft and acquiescent until he hurried the pace, swiveling his hips to prod for her G-spot, rubbing his pelvis against her apex. Her hips then lifted, her body arching, and her arms slipped tighter in a loving noose around him. George held on until she came, focusing on the inner spasms and clenching of her pussy, then let his seed burst forth as he ground his face into her shoulder, pulling in the scent of her hair.
He moved enough to let her breathe, and when he could catch his own breath, George said, “We’ll be married as soon as it can be arranged. There won’t be a ceremony at the club. It’s too soon for you. Perhaps for an anniversary.”
His presumption echoed in the room, and for an instant, he wondered if he’d screwed up. Then Iris stretched, as much as her position would allow, and yawned.
“All right.”
Laughter bubbled in his chest. She’d thrown down the gauntlet earlier by implying he might not know women as well as he surmised. Hell, he’d probably never really know women, but he knew this one if that made any sense. He was positively euphoric at pleasing her and looked forward to doing it over and over again. Iris was now asleep, clearly drained by the day’s events, and so he laughed silently, joyfully. Back in the land of the living.
Epilogue
Iris set the little stick on the side of the sink with utmost care. She sat on the closed toilet seat and rested her chin on her folded hands and counted down from 300. Two bars. She opened the second package and went through the process again. Second stick. The count down. Two bars. She cupped the palm of her hand over her abdomen. Georgios’s baby, their baby, was growing there, and, all things considered, would make his or her appearance in just under seven months. Tears of happiness sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
It seemed like only yesterday she’d come home to see her sister married and found her own happily ever after, as tumultuous and quick as the process had been. There’d been closure for Georgios, although he would willingly have foregone it because of the risk to her. Her own wedding was in two days time, and Iris was certain life would never be so sweet. Two bars, two days.
“Iris?”
She snapped out of her daydream at the sound of Georgios’s voice. “In here.”
He opened the bathroom door and took in the evidence with a glance. “Iris.”
She shivered at the intensity in his tone. God, she loved this man and craved all the responses he elicited, no, demanded from her.
“I had to know. I think I did know, but the other test wasn’t conclusive. I was going to wait until after the wedding, but I couldn’t.”
Georgios nearly plucked her from her seat and held her close, but not before she saw the intense emotion in his dark eyes. He spoke into her hair but she heard every word.
“Sweet one. I love you. I was nothing before you. And a child…”
Iris closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. They had it all. Absolute perfection.
THE END
WWW.ALLYSONYOUNG.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada, with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks, too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied—when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.
For all titles by Allyson Young, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/allyson-young
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Young, Allyson - Absolute Perfection [Aspire 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 10
