Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I bark, looking at the ceiling as Ava buries her face in my neck. The pulse in my dick becomes a buzz, the sensitivity becoming unbearable. But I’ve got to release the pressure. She screams my name as I bang into her, and when she sinks her teeth into my shoulder, I tip the edge and freefall into a deep pit of pleasure, trembling, mumbling, my mind blank, my breathing shot.
Christ, I’m struggling to keep us upright, my body shaking as my orgasm rips through me with force.
“That was perfect,” she pants as I drag my face from the crook of her neck and find a damp, flushed beauty staring back at me. I release her from the cross, content when she wraps every limb around me. I carry her to the bed and lay us down, both of us needing to catch our breath.
“Do you like our room?” I ask, a little wheezy, lost in her neck again, her hair tickling my nose.
“Are we going to have a cradle put in here?” she asks, dampening the serenity. “You know, for when we bring our baby to The Manor?”
There it is.
I push myself up and settle next to her, drawing circles across her belly. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.”
“Just a question,” she says quietly.
Yes, a loaded one. And it’s definitely something we should talk about. That’s a discussion for another day, though, and I can’t help but wonder what she’d say if she knew I’d been in talks with a potential buyer. Even if it was a waste of my time. “You have a bump,” I whisper, gliding my palm over the planes of her tummy, my eyes narrowing, assessing, definitely seeing a very slight rise on her usually flat stomach.
“Don’t be stupid.” Bless her, she looks offended. “I’m barely pregnant.”
“I’m not being stupid. It’s faint, but it’s there.” I drop a chaste kiss there, again looking forward to the day when I can spend ages working my way all over her rounded stomach with my lips. “I know this body, and I know it’s changing.”
She pouts down at my hand resting just south of her boobs. “Whatever you say, Jesse.”
Smiling, I scoot down the bed and level my mouth with her belly. “See, peanut? Your mother’s learning who has the power.”
Her gasp is endearing. Her look fierce. “No peanut. Think of another name. You’re not referring to our child as something disgusting that you obsess about and devour daily.”
Disgusting? “I obsess about you. I also devour you daily.” I move fast and sit astride her, securing her to the bed by her wrists, having a quick check for welts. She’s good. “Let me call our baby peanut.”
She grins. “Never.”
Hmmm. “Sense fuck?”
“Yes, please.”
Oh, how I love her voracious appetite for me. “Pregnancy’s making you a monster,” I say over a laugh. “Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.”
“Your wife and baby are very hungry,” she counters. And doesn’t that sound amazing. My wife and baby.
I get her up and retrieve her knickers from the floor, bending to hold them at her feet, kissing my way up her legs, spending extra time on her tummy, until I’m at her face again. More kisses. Her bra. More kisses. Her dress. More kisses.
And once I’m done dressing and kissing Ava, I grab my boxers and step into them, pull my trousers and shirt on, and get my hands knocked away from the buttons when I start to fasten them. She wants to dress me? I hold my hands up in surrender and watch her with fascination as she takes her time putting me back together again.
Looking after me.
She’s being attentive but playful. Loving, caring, compliant.
I’m content. So fucking content. So content, I refuse to allow anything to ruin this. I feel like we’ve moved into new territory. One that’s absent of problems. I know many of those problems are still there, but I can’t let them affect us. Affect Ava. Especially now.
When we’re both decent, we go down to the bar to get some dinner. Mario is his usual cheerful self, he and Ava chatting while I scan the space, seeing who’s here, who’s not. Natasha catches my eye, her curved eyebrows arched to within an inch of their lives as she sips from a tall glass, observing me. I ignore her. She’s a leach. And she’ll be a squashed leach if she pushes Ava over the edge. What the hell is Drew doing getting his kicks from her? He’s got the pick of The Manor.
“What would you like?” Mario asks as I take a stool next to Ava.
“Two waters. Just two waters please, Mario.”
“I might like some wine with my dinner,” Ava says.
I roll my eyes to myself and don’t entertain the glare my wife currently has pinned on me. Wine? Did she forget she’s pregnant? “You might do, but you’re not having any.” End of. “Two waters, Mario.” I find Pete at the end of the bar. “Two steaks, Pete.” Now I know I read rare meat is a no-no. “One medium, one well done. No blood, whatsoever.” I’m erring on the side of caution.