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His other hand finds its way back around to my belly, holding me steady. I turn my head to face him, cursing my belly for putting so much space between us as we laugh and kiss beneath the water.
His hands continue moving as he teases me with long, tantalizing strokes. My body quakes with pleasure as he reaches down and parts my glistening entrance with his fingers. He strokes my clit in long, tantalizing strokes. My clit is swollen, sensitive and engorged from pregnancy.
“Vince,” I gasp, “Fuck me.”
He obliges and I turn around, he cradles my belly helping ease some of the pressure. I sigh and my breath hitches as he enters me, slow to start before going deeper. Desire floods my body as he lengthens inside of me. I gasp, reaching out to grab the wall as he continues to thrust.
“Faster,” I pant, and he speeds up. I’m so close.
I reach down and touch myself as he ramps up his speed. I curl my fingers toward my clit and that sends me over the edge. I come with a cry, which makes Vince come, too. We are both panting as the water washes over us. Vince climbs off of me and continues to wash my body, soaping my back and washing the come the backs of my thighs. He kisses the space where my shoulder meets my neck.
“Feeling better?” He asks.
“Well, I’m in a better mood now,” I admit, letting him pamper me as I bask in the afterglow.
We finish up in the shower and I change into a pair of track shorts and a T-shirt. We decided to order a pizza for dinner. We eat on the couch and Violet sits at our feet, hoping to catch a piece of pepperoni.
“Not for puppies!” Vince says for the thousandth time. She glares at him.
I rest the pizza box on my belly and marvel as it stays put.
“Look!”
“Now that’s a talent,” Vince says, grabbing another slice.
He slings his free arm across the back of the couch and rests his cheek against my shoulder. We’ve been trying to savor these last few nights as just us, and it’s working. I’m finally starting to relax, and then I blurt out, “Am I doing it wrong?”
Vince’s brow crinkles, “Doing what wrong? Being Lyndsey? Hell no, you’re exceptional.”
“No, I mean, am I already a bad mom?”
Vince puts his slice of pizza down and turns to face me, “God, no! What makes you think that?”
“Whenever I tell my mom or other people that I want to go back to work after she’s born, they look at me like I’m insane. And I’m starting to wonder, what if they’re right? What if I’m being selfish? I love the Gateway Club and I love touring, but do I think I’ll love them as much as our child?”
“Lyndsey, do you want to go back to work after she’s born when you think about it only from your perspective?” Vince asks.
I pause, “Yeah, I mean, after like three months but—”
“No buts. We’re talking about you, and no one else. That’s the thing. You’re not going to be like every other mom on the planet, you’ll still be Lyndsey! And the Lyndsey I know is the fucking queen of a work-life balance. You can go back to work, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine! You can stay home if you want. But if you do like it, we will figure out a way to make it work. I will support you every step of the way, because I love you, and I love how passionate you are about your job. It’s sexy, not to mention you’ll be an excellent role model for our daughter.”
I blame the hormones, but tears are prickling against the back of my eyes. My cheeks are hot.
“You think so?”
“Yes! You’ll be an excellent mother, but more so, you’ll still be Lyndsey. Who you are isn’t going to disappear the minute you have a kid. Things will change, but you’ll still be the woman I fell in love with. That’s kind of why I married you.”
Now I’m crying, “Thank you.” I mumble.
“Any time, Lynds. I love you. And I’ll fist-fight any mommy blogger who makes you feel bad for going back to work.”
I laugh, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“I’d still do it, though.”
Vince
Summer
