Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 22647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
The silence was deafening as I made my way through the house.
I laid down on the bed and cried my heart out. For us. For this little baby that was coming into this cruel world. For Dougie. For Dougie’s daughter that’d probably never remember her father.
I cried so long that I fell asleep, never hearing when Elliott came in.
***
Elliott
I fucked up. I thought, berating myself for being so stupid.
While I was busy wallowing in a state of pity over what I could’ve and should’ve done differently, my wife was busy holding us together by the skin of her teeth. I hadn’t realized it’d gotten that bad. That I’d gotten that bad.
I went to work, and stayed there for nearly the whole day, not even coming home for dinner.
Blaine would set a plate in the microwave which I’d warm and eat, staying away from her until it was so late at night that I didn’t bother her when or if I finally went to bed.
It was the times that I’d needed comfort that I’d take from Blaine’s body.
She gave it to me willingly, and I hadn’t realized I was doing anything bad until an hour ago when she’d told me I was ‘fucking’ her. I never ‘fucked’ Blaine. I made love to her. Even if it was rough, it still wasn’t ‘fucking.’
Walking into the house, carrying the scrawniest looking tree that they’d had left at the Christmas tree lot, I prayed it’d be enough.
I’d picked up the Christmas things from the storage garage, surprised that she hadn’t asked me to do it much earlier in the season like she usually did.
Blaine loved Christmas, even going as far as to decorate in the beginning of November if I’d let her.
That had to be what astonished me the most, seeing that it was the 24th, and not one single piece of Christmas had been put out.
She hadn’t even worn her Christmas sweaters.
No pumpkin pie candles. No apple cider boiling on the stove. No string popcorn. Not a single Christmas carol had graced that beautiful mouth.
For the next thirty minutes, I worked on setting out Christmas decorations. Hanging our stockings and Steeler’s, even though it went against the grain to hang a dog’s stocking, but whatever made Blaine happy.
I lit the Christmas Yankee Candle, sprayed the windows with the fake snow that I bought, and even set up the train around the tree.
The only thing left was to decorate the tree, and that we would do together, because that was what she’d always talked about being our tradition.
Once everything was set up and ready, I walked into the bedroom, then to the bathroom when I couldn’t find her there.
She was standing in front of the mirror, naked.
A slight pudge at her belly spoke of the life I’d had a part in planting there. It wasn’t much. Actually, it was only the minutest amount, but I knew my wife. Knew every inch of her skin. Every scar. Every ridge. Every mole.
God, how had I not noticed this?
She looked beautiful. Like fucking perfection.
“You’re everything I ever dreamed of,” I said to her softly.
Her head turned, taking in the stupid Christmas sweater I’d found at the store, along with my Christmas boxers that I’d found right alongside the sweater.
“Nice,” she said, gesturing to my underwear.
I looked down and grinned.
The underwear said, ‘Tis the season for some squeezin’.’
“Only for you, baby,” I said softly, walking up behind her and cupping the soft swell of her belly with my palm. “I’m so sorry. I’m a dumbass.”
She reached up and cupped my cheek with her hand. “It’s okay, E. I love you anyway. Just don’t do it anymore. I don’t think my hormones can take it.”
I chuckled softly at her admission.
“How far along are you?” I asked against her neck, skimming my hands along her sides, making goosebumps break out over her skin.
“Six weeks or so,” she whispered.
Her nipples beaded, and my eyes flashed when I realized that her breasts were bigger.
God, but I was extremely unobservant.
Her hips looked a little rounder as well.
“I’m such a dumbass, B. Don’t let me do that to you anymore. I don’t want to be the type of person who makes you sad,” I whispered against her hair, closing my eyes.
Slowly, I started swaying us, humming the one song that I knew could make her smile.
She clung to my arms in desperation, clutching so tight her little nails dug into my arm.
“Dance with me,” I breathed.
She turned in my arms, shoving her hands underneath the sweater to my bare skin underneath.
Feeling her palms over my skin, we seemed to come to an understanding.
Lifting my arms up, she pulled the sweater off over my head, tossing it down onto the floor of the bathroom unceremoniously.
Her palms ran over my chest, thumbs flicking my nipples. Once…twice…three times before she leaned down and took one nipple into her mouth, flicking it lightly with her tongue.
My hand moved from her sides where they had a death grip on her ass, to her hair, which I pulled back, exposing her mouth to mine.
Slamming my mouth down on hers, I quickly worked my boxers down, one handed, before letting go of her hair, lifting her up by the ass, and setting her down on the edge of the counter.
Before I could think better of it, I lined my cock up with her slick heat, and slammed inside, coming home. Exactly where I wanted to be…quite possibly forever.
“Fuck,” I said through gritted teeth, dropping my head down onto her shoulder to allow both her and me time to adjust.
For her, it was because she was always tight when I first entered her. For me, it was because when I first entered her, I had to do some deep breathing to keep myself from coming too fast. If I wanted to last longer than two seconds, I had to concentrate. Very, very hard.
“Every single goddamned time,” I moaned.
She giggled, causing her pussy to clench around me with each laugh.
“Shit,” I hissed, nearly losing it there for a few seconds.