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“Please,” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need more.”
I thrust harder, my hips slamming against her ass as I fuck her. She cries out, her body shaking with pleasure, and I can feel her orgasm building inside of her.
“I’m going to come,” she gasps, her voice shaking. “Oh, I’m going to come again.”
I don’t hold back, my body trembling as I feel my own orgasm wash over me. We come at the same time. I spurt deep into her, grinding my body against hers until I collapse on top of her, panting heavily.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes closed and a content smile on her lips.
“For what?” I ask, knowing exactly what she means but wanting to hear her words anyway.
“For catching me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I pull her closer, kissing her softly on the lips. “It was my pleasure,” I say, meaning every word.
18
EMMA
Eight months later…
The first signs come in the early hours, subtle at first, then undeniable.
The quiet of the hospital room is punctuated by the soft, rhythmic beeping of monitors and my increasingly sharp breaths.
Adrian is by my side in an instant, his concern etched in the lines of his face as he presses the call button for the nurse.
“Nurse, I think it’s time,” Adrian says, his voice steady, though I catch the underlying current of excitement and anxiety.
The nurse, a kind-faced woman named Lisa, moves swiftly. “Let’s see how you’re doing,” she says, checking the monitors and performing a quick examination. “You’re progressing well. I’ll get Dr. Harris. It won’t be long now.”
As the contractions grow stronger, so does my resolve. Adrian holds my hand, his presence a constant source of strength.
“You’re doing so well, Emma. Just breathe with me, okay?” he coaches, reminding me to follow the breathing techniques we’ve practiced for months.
Dr. Harris arrives, her calm demeanor reassuring us both as the minutes tick by. “Emma, you’re doing wonderfully,” she says as another contraction hits. “When the next one comes, I want you to push with all you’ve got.” Her voice is firm yet encouraging.
The room seems to shrink, focusing down to the task at hand. Adrian is my anchor, his words a lifeline as I navigate through the pain. “I’m right here. Our baby is almost here. You’re so strong.”
“Adrian, I’m scared,” I admit during a fleeting moment of calm. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“I know, love. But I’ve got you. We’re in this together, and I couldn’t be prouder of you,” he assures me, his eyes locking onto mine, a well of strength. “You’re in control, remember. You’re in charge.”
“I don’t want to be in charge. I want to go home.”
“Soon. We’ll be at home soon. With our baby with us.”
Adrian’s voice, the doctor’s guidance, and the nurse’s encouragement blend into a chorus of support, urging me on.
And then, with one final, monumental effort, the room fills with the sound of our baby’s first cry. The pain fades into the background, replaced by an explosion of love and relief so intense it leaves me breathless.
“She’s here, Emma. Our little Molly is here,” Adrian exclaims, a single tear trickling down his cheek as Dr. Harris gently places our daughter in my arms.
The weight of her against my chest is the most profound thing I’ve ever felt, her tiny cries tapering off as she settles, instinctively knowing she’s safe and loved. Adrian and I are locked in a moment of pure bliss, our family finally complete.
“Look what we created, Adrian. Our beautiful Molly,” I whisper, overcome with emotion, my eyes moving from our daughter to the man I love, sharing this perfect, life-altering moment.
Holding Molly close, feeling Adrian’s embrace enveloping us both, the world outside the hospital room fades away. All the fears, the uncertainty, melt away, leaving only this moment of unbridled joy and love.
