“Fuck!” I growled, thrusting in deep as pleasure spiked in my soul, followed by my release. My knot swelled to tie us together, and I hunched over him, panting hard, sweat dripping down my nose.
Fletcher slowly went limp in my grasp, sinking down onto the messy bedding. I caught him and gently pulled us so that we were lying on our sides, my arms wrapped around my husband. He made a happy sound and cuddled in, while Sky still lay boneless on the bed.
For a while, we all just lay there, catching our breath. When my cock shrank enough to slip free from Fletcher, followed by a rush of cum and lube, I got up and grabbed a warm, wet cloth to clean everyone up.
The bed was a lost cause and would need fresh sheets before bedtime, so I ushered everyone out to the living room. I dished us out bowls of cookies and cream ice cream, and we sat together on the couch, radiating afterglow bliss.
“So how did you guys start sharing partners, anyway?” Sky finally asked the question we’d both been expecting.
When I hesitated, Fletcher stepped in to answer. “Well, we spent some time trying to start a family, and when it didn’t happen, we agreed that it just wasn’t time yet. I wanted to explore life a little more. Adam had been my only sexual partner, really, and I was curious.”
“It was Fletcher’s idea to have a threesome. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but we actually ended up liking it more than we should’ve. It was fun for a while—until it wasn’t.” I shook my head slowly. “There was…someone who became obsessed with Fletcher. He wouldn’t stop harassing us. We got the cops involved, but it only pissed him off.”
Fletcher’s expression was sad. “He tried to kill Adam. That’s how he got that scar around his throat. It was a really close call. After that, we vowed to never do it again.”
“Until you,” I murmured.
Fletcher smiled. “You were different, special from the beginning. I felt it.”
I sighed. “I did too, which was why I was so growly. I didn’t want to risk losing Fletcher again. My heart couldn’t stand the thought. But instead, I’ve gained so much more. A partner, a lover…and in six more months? A family.”
Sky smiled, and it was a genuine smile. “No regrets?”
“No regrets,” I promised.
38
SKY
I was sort of just…floatingalong. Sometimes, it didn’t feel real, like I couldn’t possibly be pregnant. There was no way. I didn’t feel any different, but there was a slight swell to my once-flat stomach, probably not even noticeable to anyone except me. I knew it was there, and that was all the proof I needed.
There was a baby growing in my womb. Adam’s baby.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my hands smoothing over my belly, over the loose skin and stretch marks from my other pregnancies. Would this one be different? Would I get to cradle my newborn in my arms, look into its eyes and touch its damp hair, feel it suckle greedily from me?
I teared up at the thought, biting down on my bottom lip. It hurt to think about the other babies, the ones who lost their lives to a monster. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I traced the stretch marks with my fingertips.
It isn’t your fault.Fletcher’s voice filled my head, and deep down, I knew he was right. I was helpless against Dr. Thompson. A victim in the cruel game he played, but damn it… This time it would be different. I had Adam and Fletcher at my side.
This time, I had love.
The holidays were soonupon us and at Bixby’s, we were selling turkey Manhattan platters and ham dinners out the wazoo. Mornings were no different—except instead of turkey, it was sausage gravy and biscuits and fluffy eggs and bacon, and damn if we weren’t always busy in the mornings.
I was racing around, taking orders and serving tables, making sure everyone had refills on their coffees and their teas, when suddenly, my stomach lurched. A whiff of greasy bacon made nausea roil and my mouth flooded.
“I-I’m sorry,” I blurted out, half-panicked. “I’ll be back with the rest of your food in a minute.” I took off running towards the bathroom, the strings of my apron trailing behind me. I barely made it into a stall before I was vomiting up my morning coffee and buttered toast. It came out hard and violent, one of those, your stomach kills you afterwards. Ugh…
I rinsed my mouth at the sink and came out of the bathroom, a bit shaky but determined to brush it off and get back to work.
Except it happened the next morning. And the next. And the next. Morning sickness. Great. Just what I needed, right before the holidays.
Fletcher rubbed my back as I retched at home over the weekend. I hated it, hated the sour taste in my mouth after, but he was right there with a damp washcloth to wipe my face and mouth, and a cup of water to rinse with.
I spat into the toilet and gave a flush, groaning low. “Ugh…”
“Are you okay?” Fletcher asked, concern wrinkling his brow.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “Just the baby making itself known, I guess. This happened before, too, but I never had to hold down a job. If I puked, I puked.”
