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She’s notthatbig. She’s perfect. She’s all baby, and when he moves it looks like an alien is working its way out of her stomach. Thankfully, one doesn’t.
Our new Vegas home was completed last month, with us moving in shortly after. We’re in the same development as Rowdy and Cap. Though our home is big, it doesn’t compare to Rowdy’s Texas-sized McMansion. He grew up rich. I didn’t. What we have is way more than I ever thought I’d have. Cap is a genius when it comes to making money. He’s helped me with sponsors and endorsements which brought in the money along with my winnings, but he also hooked me up with investment opportunities along with a long-term retirement strategy.
My Angel and I, along with our kids, are set up financially. Plus Mom and Reese—I’d never forget about them.
“Gabriel?” My girl’s gorgeous face comes into view through the garage door to the house.
“You’re supposed to be resting, Angel.” I wipe my hands on my shorts, stopping to steal a kiss before she tries to convince me she doesn’t need to lie down.
“The timer went off. I can’t bend down to get the food out of the oven.”
Of course she can’t. My girl can’t even see her feet. She turns and walks back the way she came, her hand on her lower back for support.
“I wouldn’t want you to try.” I encourage her to return to the couch while I head to the kitchen. “I’ll bring food in. Just get comfortable and find a movie or something.”
If I know her, she’ll find a college football game. It’s Sunday, so she’ll probably have to settle for a pro game, or virtually anything else.
With Frankie so full of baby, she can’t eat much in one sitting. Our boy is crowding her stomach as well as her bladder. Therefore, it’s important what she does eat is packed with nutrition. I made her beef stew with practically every vegetable she likes. It’s one of her favorites. Baby seems to like it too. The stew is on the stove. The timer was for the cornbread in the oven.
Confirming it’s done, I set it on the stove. I get our drinks, utensils, and napkins and take them to the den, setting up TV trays, before dishing up the stew and cutting and buttering the cornbread. Everything situated on a serving tray, I pause when I see my Angel has the TV paused on the latest Fast and Furious movie.
“Angel, we don’t have to watch that. Find something you want to watch.”
She only shrugs and helps unload the food to our TV trays. “I don’t mind. Besides, you know once I eat, I’ll be asleep in your arms in fifteen minutes.”
She’s not lying. “If you don’t like it, we can change it.”
“I’ll like it.” She does like action flicks and with the pace and action of the F&F movies, what’s not to like?
Situated beside her and ready to chow down, I notice she’s not eating. “What’s wrong?” Did I forget something? Have her pregnancy eccentricities turned her off of stew?
“Nothing.” She bites her bottom lip, handing me the remote. Her gray gaze dips to my crotch before flitting back to my face, a soft smile tipping her mouth.
“Angel?” I’m moving before she even confirms what she wants—needs. I push my tray to the side before doing the same to hers. Then I lean over her, running my nose along hers. “Tell me.”
Her breath hitches and her hands fist my shirt at my waist. “It can wait. I don’t want your food to get cold.” Her words don’t match the signals her body is sending.
The scent of her arousal is enough, but the sweet gesture of her denying herself so I can eat a hot meal has me hardening.
I don’t fucking think so. If anything, she’s the one who needs to eat. And she will, as soon as… A growl rumbles through my chest as we lock eyes. “You need me, Angel?” I kiss along her jaw, whispering, “Is your sweet pussy aching?”
“Yes,” she moans, pressing her mouth to mine, her tongue teasing mine, gripping the back of my neck and hair like she’ll never let go.
“I got you, Angel.” I relish her kiss for a moment more before picking her up and taking her to our bed.
Gotta love pregnancy hormones. They make her all kinds of horny. Lucky me.
The food can wait. My wife can’t.
“Gabriel,” I cry as he slowly sinks inside with me on my side. He treats me like a goddess, as if he’s in awe that he’s right where he belongs.
“You okay, Angel?” The concern in his blue eyes has me gripping his hand on my hip in reassurance.
“I’m just tender. Maybe not too deep, too hard.” I’m not sure my cervix can handle the onslaught of his massive cock hammering at its entrance.
He pushes in and stills, running his hand over my huge baby belly, heading south, earning another gasp from me when he rubs my sensitized clit. He pulls out just enough to reenter slowly. “This okay? We can stop. I can still get you off.”
My hold on him tightens. “Don’t you dare stop.” I can’t imagine a time where I don’t want him inside me.
