Page 60 of Requiem

“I want to …I think we should...” he stops abruptly, closes and reopens his eyes and starts again. “I’d really like for us to have another baby. Soon.”

“Really?” I say sitting up suddenly, unable to control the excitement in my voice. “I thought you wanted to wait until David’s a little older!”

“Yeah, I know …but God, if we’re this crazy about David, how much happier do you think we’d be with another one around the house? Maybe a little girl this time. Or a little brother for David. They could be ‘our boys.’ What do you think?”

“What do I think?” I squeal, bouncing the bed up and down. “Matthew, I wanted to get pregnant right after David was born. Of course, I want to have another baby! Your baby. Our baby!”

It’s a little hard to know exactly how to phrase it without it sounding like David is anything less than our son. But he understands, and he is smiling, still holding my hand to his face.

“What would you name her?”

“I don’t know, I really hadn’t given it much thought since we were putting this on hold. How about if we create a name after we’ve created the kid, okay?”

“Fair enough, Mrs. Ayers,” he murmurs, rolling onto his hands and knees so he can snake his way over to my naked body.

I slip back down so I’m lying on the mattress again and he climbs over me, resting one palm on either side of my head. His knee finds a break between my legs and coaxes them apart so he can align himself with me. I can’t take my eyes off of his face as I reach up and hook my arms under and around his strong shoulders so I can feel them; so I can pull him close enough that his skin is touching mine. He drops down, his forearms flush with the mattress, and I wrap my lower body around him. I rub my calves against the backs of his thighs, loving the feel of his taut muscles across my soft skin. His head drops and his lips find my face. Tiny little kisses rain down on my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids and my neck.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispers in my ear.

For him, it’s a rhetorical question uttered in a moment of passion. For me, it’s a sentiment that deserves expression.

“You waited for me to come to my senses,” I whisper.

Matthew stops and raises his head to look down at me. I can see his face clearly against the moonlight streaming through the window. When he pushes his hardness into me, his eyes are fixed on mine. He likes to watch. The more excited I get, the more excited he gets.

“Ughhh …” I let out a reflexive groan with the unexpected fullness of him.

When he starts to move, slowly at first, every inch of me is wanting for every inch of him. In my husband’s arms, the tender and the gentle live side by side with the heat and the full-hearted yearning. To him, sex is never just sex. It’s always an expression of his love; his desire to be as close as two human beings can ever be.

“Oh, Julia,” he whispers, his hands running the outer length of my body from the swell of my breasts to the curve of my hips and thighs. “Oh, God, Julia,” he moans a little louder this time.

Ah, I see we’re on the express train tonight. Works for me! With one swift movement, I manage to roll out from under him and over, until I’m straddling him from above.

“Damn! That was impressive!” he smiles up at me, pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got a million moves,” I brag. “In the morning, I’ll show you my Reverse Cowgirl!”

I’m sure he’d have a comment about that, but as it turns out, I don’t waste any time working my hips in circles around him. His mouth opens into a perfect ‘O,’ and his eyes get big. Time to blow his mind … I close my eyes and throw my head back, rocking back and forth against him.

“God, you are huge!” I murmur, and feel an immediate twitch from within me. “Matthew, oh, God, Matthew!” I exclaim more loudly this time, grinding myself into him deeper and faster.

His hands are on my waist now, guiding me in the motion and rhythm he needs at that second. And a second is about all it takes.

“Ugh! Oh, Jesus!” he exclaims, throwing his head back so far, so fast that he bangs his skull on the headboard. “Owwww! Fuck, that hurt!”

“Oh! Matthew!” I cry out, more in concern the ecstasy, then slap a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing. It doesn’t work. For either of us.

I roll off of him and land on my usual side of the bed, facing him, both of us howling with laughter.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he rasps. “I just got a little … over enthusiastic.”

“I understand,” I say with a coy smile. “Hey, can we take a blue shower now?”