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Walker had taken my clothes off, lips pressing to each area as he revealed it, and I’d done the same to him. We had to get creative due to the size of my belly, but we made it work. Twice.
“Yes, Fairy Tale?” He asks, only to grin like a Cheshire cat when he sees what’s in my hand, and the obvious result on the display. “Oops, I did it again?” He sings, even giving a little dance a la Britney Spears.
“You aren’t in the least sorry, mister,” I scold him, unable to maintain the fake expression of upset I’d pasted on.
“Neither are you,” he reminds me as he wraps me in a one-armed hug, the right hand too busy stroking my still flat belly.
“Not at all.” We’d been trying for a while, though I can almost guarantee when we got pregnant.
He’d finally reached the milestone statistics showed that him having Hodgkin’s again were almost nil. So, we’d celebrated. A lot. First with our family, then on our own when a sleepover had been requested, and approved, by our daughter and son with their beloved Pappa and Grammy.
I gave up tallying points a long time ago, as did Walker, because we agreed that we both won.
**Walker**
“Do you know how sexy you are?” I ask my wife as I slide the dress straps off her shoulders.
“I know how sexy I am in your eyes. That’s what I care about.”
Kissing her neck, I palm her breasts, loving how sensitive they are when she’s pregnant. Pinching her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers, I groan when she sticks her ass out, cradling the cock that’s aching to be inside her.
“Do you need something, Mrs. Doyle?” I tease, hating that to free myself, I need to let go of her. But it’s totally worth it when I feel her take me. Even more so when she squeezes her walls around me. “Yes,” I moan, knowing I won’t last if she keeps doing that.
Good thing we have all night.
And that reminder sends me over the edge.
Be sure to stay tuned so see who gets their happily ever after next.
