We haven’t said the words, not yet, but they’ve almost tumbled from my mouth so many times. Like when she snuggles into my chest and lets out a sigh filled with contentment. Or when she’s dancing around the kitchen while cooking dinner and I come home from work to a house she’s made into a home.
Over the last month, she’s made some changes around here, and I’m glad. She’s made this place cozy, and it feels like we’re better prepared to welcome our little girl home when she’s done cooking.
A few nights after the drive-in movie night, we were curled up on the couch while ordering the last few items of furniture weneeded for the nursery, the same nursery I was going to paint on my next day off. Her eyes kept going back to the coffee table and biting her lip.
I could tell she wanted to say something about it but was also trying to be polite. Since my arm was wrapped around her, I gave her a squeeze and murmured, “What’s on your mind, Sweetheart?”
“I think we need a new coffee table,” she blurted and then slapped her hands over her mouth like she didn’t mean to say anything.
I barked out a laugh and pulled her onto my lap. She wouldn’t look at me until I gripped her chin and turned her face toward me. “You can change whatever you want,” I told her.
She was blushing in the most adorable way as she whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” I insisted. “I want our little heart to be safe, and I don’t think a glass top coffee table is a good idea. I was already thinking it needed to be replaced, but I figured we’d make some headway on the nursery first. She won’t be zooming around the house right away, but she’ll need a room to come home to.”
She gave a nod as a small smile played on her lips. “I should have known you’d already thought about it. We can wait until she’s a little older; it doesn’t need to be done right now.”
“No, change it now,” I pushed and reached up to cup her cheek. “I want you to be happy. I want you to make this into your home. Change anything you want.”
“Except your paintings,” she murmured.
“You can even change those,” I offered.
Her fingers twisted in my shirt, her voice fierce, “No, I’m not changing any of your paintings. I love them and I want our peanut to grow up seeing how talented her dad is.”
Fuck, her words made me melt. As if our daughter could understand the conversation, she gave a mighty kick, and I could feel it where her belly was pressed against my torso.
Fuck, there’s nothing like feeling my baby move in Avery’s belly.
Our little girl moves more and more. She’s so active when we have our time together while I talk directly to her and tell her all about my day and everything that I can’t wait to share with her. Whenever I talk to our baby, Avery gets this soft look on her face and looks at me with such love.
And damn if it doesn’t make me feel like I can take on the world and come out on top.
As Avery leans over the counter to put on some lipstick, my attention snaps to her peach shaped ass. All thoughts of our baby flee my mind as my cock goes rock hard so fast it makes my vision go spotty. She looks so fucking good and it’s been far too long since I’ve been buried inside of her.
I close the distance between us until I can grip her hips and press the hard ridge of my cock against her perfect ass. “You look damn good, Sweetheart.”
She tries to straighten up, but I keep my grip firm and don’t let her move. Her dark blue eyes meet mine through the mirror. The smile she flashes me is big and bright. Whenever she smiles at me with her whole soul on display, it makes my heart pound in my chest.
“Are you ready to get going?”
I run my hand over the curve of her hip and grind my cock against her ass, loving the way her eyes flutter closed as she pushes back against me.
“Not quite yet,” I rasp.
My hands slide down the outside of her legs and start to gather up her skirt. Avery’s eyes snap open and I can see the conflict there.
She wants this, wants me, but she also wants to be on time for Ian’s birthday party. He’s turning 13 and it’s a big deal, but we can take a few minutes. The lust in her eyes tells me I’m right. If we don’t take the edge off before we go, my woman is liable to jump me at the party.
She’s become even more in need of my dick over the last few weeks. I’m not complaining; I’m no fool.
“We’re going to be late,” she tries to protest, but there’s no real heat behind her breathy words.
“I’ll be fast,” I promise as I lean over her and nip her earlobe.
The way she shudders and arches her back is sexy as fuck. When her dress is rucked up over her hips, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tug them over her hips, ass, and down her legs until her pussy is exposed.
“Not too fast, I hope,” she sasses.
