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She kisses me like I’m water, and she is fire. Like we’re trying to extinguish the sparks forming between us before we get burnt. The kiss grows more possessive, and it doesn’t take long for both of us to lose our clothes.
Bending her over the couch, I sink two fingers into her to ensure that she’s ready for me. Warm, wet, and tight, my cock whimpers with jealousy as I finger fuck her a few times.
“Stop teasing me,” she pushes back against my hand, and all I can do is grin as I pull my fingers out and replace them with my cock. The first stroke inside of her is like heaven. The second is like I’m being brought back to life, and the next are a blur as I fuck both of us into oblivion, making certain we forget about everyone and everything but each other.
20
Lily
With a steady hand, I place the final stroke carefully on the canvas, before stepping back and taking the finished piece in. It’s perfect… and I’m not only talking about the painting, I’m talking about everything in this room. My own personal workspace, a place that is mine and mine alone.
The large open space is flooded with light coming from the huge slanted windows in the roof. Walls are lined with shelves that hold all my supplies; a vast selection of paint, different sized canvas’, and every shape of brush you can think of. My happy place.
We moved into the new house only a month after Seb showed it to me. He sold his house quick enough for us to buy the new one.
Sometimes, I can’t believe how lucky I am, it still feels like a dream.
I dropped out of school, and everything else fell into place. No more hiding, no more sneaking around. We get to be a normal couple like I always wanted.
Even my grandparents finally came around a bit. They are still not sold on the whole dropping out of school thing, but they seem more interested in my art and even impressed that I got a paying job doing it. A well-paying job, I might add.
Grabbing all my dirty brushes, I walk over to the small side table to start cleaning them, when a wave of nausea overcomes me. My fingers dig into the edge of the table, and I close my eyes for a moment waiting for it to pass like it always does. Sebastian insisted on me buying the more expensive paint, and even though the quality is much better, it seems to be more potent in the odor department.
The smell of paint has never fazed me before, but thanks to the new paint, I have to air out the room more often now, to not be bothered by it. Shaking the nausea away, I finish cleaning the brushes before scrubbing my hands clean. When my fingers are free of the various blues and purples, I dry them and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.
Seb is at work, and as usual, I spend most of the day painting. By the time I’m done for the day I’m famished and today is no different. So, I head straight for the fridge. I open the double-sided, stainless steel doors and stick my head inside.
A whiff of last night’s lasagna tickles my nose, and instead of enjoying the savory smell like I expected, I’m surprised to find my stomach churning, the sour taste of bile on my tongue. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I will the vomit to stay down as I run to the bathroom.
Only when I’m kneeling in front of the toilet, do I lift my hand and empty the entire contents of my stomach into the white ceramic bowl. Vomit turns into dry heaving, my whole body convulsing as it tries to purge whatever the hell is bothering it.
What the hell? I was fine a minute ago.
When I’m done throwing up, and my breathing has calmed down, I stand and clean myself up before wiping everything down with some Clorox wipes. I close the plastic box and set the wipes back under the sink, but before I close the cabinet, my eyes catch sight of the box sitting next to the cleaning supplies… my tampons.
Within seconds, everything clicks into place.
The sensitivity to smell, the sudden vomiting… it hits me then that I haven’t had my period since before we moved into the new house.
Oh, my god, I think I’m pregnant.
For the longest time, I just stand in the bathroom staring at the closed pack of tampons, wondering how I didn’t think of this before. We’ve had plenty of unprotected sex, and sex equals babies. Everybody knows this, so why is this such a shock for me? It’s like my brain has suppressed that part completely.
Holy shit, I might be pregnant.
