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Leaning back, he spread her rear cheeks apart to watch. To watch as he took her, sinking inside her pink flesh and delving into fiery bliss.
“More. More,” she begged, she pleaded. She was screaming out for him and the sound of her pleasure tore through the need for slow and easy. It tore past control, slammed through hidden fears, and he took them both to places he knew they had never reached before.
He rubbed around the hard, swollen bud of her clit. Sweat dripped from his hair, his face, as his hips thrust, stroking his erection deep, hard and she pressed back, crying for him. Crying for more.
“More. Oh God. Noah. Yes. Yes. Take all of me.”
“My Bella.” He groaned her name, shafting harder, his hips pounding against her ass, his balls slapping against her wet flesh as he felt the need to come clenching around his testicles, whipping up his spine.
Sabella exploded first. She tightened, surprised cries, curses, prayers falling from her lips as he felt her fly headlong into ecstasy. And he followed her. He plunged deep, shoved two fingers inside her pussy and set her off again as he felt his cock explode.
His semen filled her. Fierce, shuddering jets of cum spurting inside her, tearing from his soul rather than his balls as he cried out her name.
“My Bella!” His head fell back on his shoulders. One hand clenched her hips, and he didn’t lose himself inside her. He gave himself to her. All of her. Spilling and groaning her name until he collapsed over her.
She was asleep when he came to himself. Lying next to her, wrapped around her, he saw her hand, her left hand, ringless against his chest. His left hand was wrapped around her, and he could feel the missing weight of the bond that burned inside him.
He slid from her slowly, grinning as she grouched and flopped on her back, her hand on her stomach almost protective as she continued to sleep.
He strode through bedroom and bathroom first, looking for h
er wedding band. She had been wearing it the day before when she left with Rory. He remembered her wearing it. But she hadn’t had it on at the caves.
He walked to the kitchen and checked her purse. Organized little Sabella. There it was, tucked into a zippered compartment, the little ring shining bright as a band tightened around his head.
He moved back upstairs, picked up his pants, and pulled his wedding band free before fitting it back on his finger. The outside of the bands were plain. Just gold bands. Sabella hadn’t wanted frills for them. Inside was the Celtic vow, “forever.” Go síoraí.
Inside his were the words “Forever, my soul.” Matching vows. Matching hearts.
He lifted her hand and slid her ring back in place.
His wife.
He tangled his fingers with hers, staring at the sight of her pale, creamy flesh against his own.
His wife.
His gaze drifted to her flat stomach.
His wife and his child.
His hands were shaking as he touched her stomach. Shaking so hard the shudders worked through him, making it hard to breathe, to think.
Jesus. They made a baby!
He stared in shock at her stomach. Then in awe.
He spread his hand over her stomach and felt the tightness in his chest fill his throat, lock behind his eyes.
Then he watched in disbelief the little bead of moisture that dropped to her stomach, shimmered against it.
Tears?
He blinked and another fell.
He felt the slam of emotion. Love, regret, pure blinding God-thanked reverence filling him as he lifted his eyes to his wife’s face, to see her watching him, tears sliding down her darkened cheeks.
The bruises would fade, but this moment in time would always fill his memories.
