Van looks confused for a second, then begins nodding. “Yeah. One o’clock is perfect.”
“Alright, cool. Thanks.” Maggie’s usually an early bird, but I bet I can think of something for us to do for a few hours Sunday morning.
“Hey, Cinderella,” I call as I step into our quiet apartment. “I’m home.”
“I’ll be right out,” Maggie calls from the bedroom.
After ditching my shoes and my hoodie, I start rooting around in the fridge to see what I can put together for dinner. I’m still carrying Baby Lala, Jr. because Iris gifted her to me and even though it’s fucking ridiculous—and this baby doll is creepy as hell with its tatted-up face—I want to get used to doing everyday tasks while one of my hands is occupied. Maybe it’s because I only know what a family is supposed to look like based on what I’ve seen on TV or from glimpses at my friends’ lives, but I don’t want to miss a minute of this little Nugget’s life. The next two years will be hectic, no doubt, since I’ll be working as much as possible in the off-season, but I plan to be around for everything—the huge milestones and the everyday stuff, even if it means getting by on just a few hours’ sleep.
Maggie hasn’t come out yet, and I’m deciding between tacos and stir-fry. It’s feeling like Taco Wednesday to me, but the smell of ground beef could either be mouth-watering or nausea inducing for my girl, so I open our bedroom door to ask her opinion.
The words never leave my mouth.
The doll I’m holding drops to the floor.
I can’t even blink. Every part of my body has turned to granite at the sight in front of me.
“Oh, hey…Um, this is…how wild is it that they make maternity lingerie?”
It’s not wild at all. It’s fucking perfect. She’s fucking perfect.
I stride toward her and peel her hands away from her body, threading my fingers through hers.
She takes a step toward me so that her lace-covered bellybrushes against the cotton of my t-shirt, but her eyes are looking at the ground. “I was hanging out with the girls tonight. Claire’s a photographer and she offered to do pictures once the baby arrives. She also offered to do a boudoir shoot, which?—”
“Yes,” I say. “Tell her yes.”
“Mel thought it was a great idea, so she dragged me to this frilly little boutique in Murraystown. They have a whole rack of maternity stuff and I was in a good mood and Mel is super persuasive, and yeah…It was on sale. I think it must be left over from Valentine’s Day since it’s red. But maybe I can return it?”
“Look at me,” I say, tipping her chin up. “Eyes on mine, Maggie.”
When her ocean-blue eyes meet mine, a surge of electricity pulses through my veins. “You’re so fucking hot,” I tell her.
Maggie blushes at my words. “JT?—”
I override any protest that’s about to fall from her lips. “I saw you across a fucking yard and had to get closer. I made love to you in a stranger’s bathtub because I couldn’t fucking wait to get inside you.” My lips press kisses along her jaw and collarbone as my hands trace the curve of her belly and the swell of her hips. “Every time we snuck into an empty room or a storage closet, I’d tell myself just one more time would be enough, but I knew it was a lie. I’ll never get enough of you. There will never be a time when I don’t want you, when the sight of you doesn’t drive me out of my damn mind. Tell me you get that, Cinderella.”
Her blush is back. “Yes, you’re horny. I get that. Believe me,” she says on a quiet laugh.
My body freezes and my gaze finds hers once again. “I’m not fucking joking, funny girl. But fine. You need proof? No problem.” I kiss her again as my fingers breach the lace barrier and slip beneath her folds. She’s already wet for me as she rocks against my hand. The needy bud of her clit isswollen, and the pad of my thumb is drawn to it like a magnet. I press firmly and make one, two, three tight circles before she’s quivering in my arms.
“Get there,” I tell her. “Give me this one and I promise you’ll get two more.” My words make her wetter, and that’s a heady feeling. A few more circular motions of my thumb and she’s gripping my biceps and calling my name. Pregnancy has increased her sensitivity everywhere and her first orgasm hits hard. I hold her as she shudders, then I trace the outline of her lips with my thumb—the same one that just pushed her over the edge.
Stepping back, I take my time and let my eyes roam over her body. The third trimester is here and there’s no mistaking that she’s carrying my baby. “Count to ten, Maggie,” I tell her.
My beautiful girlfriend blinks dubiously. “You want me to count after that? I’m not sure I can spell my own name right now.”
Tugging my shorts down, I grip my hard cock and repeat the directive. “Count. To. Ten. Maggie.”
She bites her lip and it’s gratifying to know that the sight of my naked body has the same effect on her that hers does on me. “One,” she says, her eyes lingering on my thick length.
I can’t help but stroke myself, my grip tight and punishing. Holy hell, I’m not even going to make it to ten. Just as the word “Six,” tumbles from her pouty, kissable, fuckable mouth, I come hard all over my fist and my abs. I’ve made a mess, but I’m just getting started.
“Fuck,” I curse, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure as they shoot through my body. Reaching for Maggie with my clean hand, I bring her over to the bed and grab some pillows. After tucking one under her belly and the other between her knees, I lie next to her, so close our faces are almost touching. “Had to take the edge off. One look at you in this,” I say, fingering the lace of her lingerie, “and I damn near came right then andthere. Pretty sure the sight of you in nothing at all would have the same effect. What do you think? Should we try it?”
She giggles and strokes my cheek. “I think we have to. For science or math or whatever.”
“I’m a firm believer in science,” I say helping her shimmy out of the lacy nightie. “To be clear, I’m a firm believer in anything that gets you naked and in my arms.”
