Page 89 of The Breath Before Forever

The hot, bubbly water was a plus.

Vera sealed the deal when she laid herself over his chest, and worked her hips in slow circles against his dick. She smelled of the strawberry scented bubbles he’d poured into the bath water and she tasted of her need with every hungry kiss she stole from him.

Those whines crawled out of her chest.

Higher and higher.

Between her kisses, she begged for what was left of him.

“Won’t you come in me?”

Until both his hands clamped onto her ass, and held her into him, as she squirmed and squealed her way through an orgasm that milked out the beginnings of his own. He still needed to be deep in her when he came; hugged by her body; smothered in her life.

As soon as the rush of endorphins and pleasure started to fade from Vaslav’s nervous system, he was still left breathless from his lingering pain.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back to the ledge of the tub.

With his eyes squeezed shut to ward off the worst of the returning pain, his wife’s fingers helped to ease his breaths as they scraped and scratched along his wet scalp.

“If only I could keep you coming for—”

The high-pitch wail of a baby sent Vaslav’s eyes flying wide open. He found his wife staring back with a sympathetic smile as her hands retreated from his scalp.

One week in with a newborn.

Too many more to go.

“You good?” she asked as she steadied herself in the tub to stand, and leave.

“For now,” he replied.

He’d have to be.

“Ava,” Vaslav said to Vera’s back as she wrapped her body in the silk robe she’d discarded earlier.

At the random name, she looked over her shoulder. “I like that.”

Shocker.

She’d not cared any for the other ones he’d picked out up until that moment.

“It’s a palindrome. Like her mother’s.”

Spelled the same way front and back.

Also, Russian.

Igor had ignored Vaslav’s calls all week.

He tried not to think too hard about that.

“Ava,” Vera repeated to herself.

In the tub, Vaslav stretched out again, and let his arms hang over the rounded edge. For once, his wife didn’t bitch about the droplets of water falling from his hands to the floor in a gathering puddle she’d probably step in later.

He wasn’t good at remembering to clean it up.

The baby cried again.