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I get up off the floor and join her on the bed, our mouths finding each other like moths to a flame.
“Get on top of me, dolcezza. I want to see you ride my cock.”
She climbs on top before piercing herself on my throbbing length. Her walls are deliciously hot and tight, clenching around me as she takes me all the way to the hilt. I’m lost in reverence, staring up at her like a holy idol. I adore the roundness of her breasts and the curve of her belly, in awe of her radiant glow.
“Mother of my children,” I murmur. “So beautiful. God, you really are so beautiful.”
“I don’t think I’m going to last long,” she admits.
“That’s alright, mi amore. I don’t think I’ll last long, either.” I brace my hands on either side of her hips, offering her support. “Go at whatever pace you’d like. I’m all yours.”
“Mine,” she mumbles, moving her hips. She picks an easy cadence, gliding up and down my cock at her leisure. “Mine,” she says again with a languid moan. “All mine.”
“That’s right.”
The tight coil of heat in the pit of my stomach erupts with such intensity that spots speckle my vision. I’m quick to lay her down on the sheets, kissing her sweetly and slowly. I love the way Arin feels curled up against me, everything about her bringing peace to my soul.
“I’m sorry I hit you with the bat, by the way,” she says around that adorable laugh-snort of hers. It’s the cutest sound in the world, second only to the sound of Felicia’s laughter.
“Twice,” I point out. “You hit me with a bat twice.” She laughs again. I kiss the tip of her nose. “I guess I deserved it.”
“You guess?”
“Okay, okay. I deserved it.”
Arin peeks over my shoulder to check the digital clock resting on the bedside table. “I need to pick up Felicia from preschool. What are we going to tell her now that you’re back? She was at your funeral.”
“Any chance we could tell her it was a game?”
“What kind of fucked up game is that?” Arin argues.
“I guess I’ll… try and tell her the truth.”
“Probably for the best. Try sugar coating it. You know, like how you’d let a kid know Santa isn’t real.”
I grimace. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“Tough,” she says with a smirk. “Consider it your penance for leaving us like that.”
I kiss her tenderly, knowing deep down Arin’s right. Placing a gentle hand on her belly, I say, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. All of you.”
“Damn straight, Mr. Wilson. Damn straight. Though I guarantee you that telling your mother is going to be a hell of a lot worse.”
I clap my forehead. “Sweet Lord, mymother.”
Arin cackles. “I’ll start planning your second funeral.”
* * *
I’m not used to having this much free time on my hands, but I can’t say I mind. Now that I’ve found this little slice of Heaven, there’s no need to give orders and follow commands. I can be present—here with the love of my life, my darling daughter, and my son who’s due soon.
As expected, my mother gives me the tongue lashing of a lifetime. She curses me up and down in both Italian and English, but all is forgiven when I pull her into a tight hug and explain myself the same way I did with Arin.
I spend my days fixing up the house, preparing for our little one’s arrival. There’s something satisfying about working with my hands. I take full responsibility of fixing up the nursery so Arin doesn’t have to lift a finger, repainting the walls a fresh coat of deep evergreen, popping into Arin’s office-turned-studio to check in on her latest creation.
Her talent will never cease to amaze me. It’s fascinating, watching her turn a simple idea jotted down in pencil into a beautiful, tangible thing. I love the way her whole face lights up when she works, so in tune with her craft that she’s never short of awe-inspiring.
My favorite days are the ones I get to spend with Felicia outside. When the weather is mild and the night air is clear, we spend hours playing outside in the front yard surrounded on all sides by tall, towering trees. She’s going through a phase right now where all she wants to play is pirates. She’s a swashbuckling captain, complete with a skull and crossbones hat and eyepatch her mother made out of felt, and I’m…
