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Like when he finally realized we were more than just “best friends” and that he was in love with me after years of built up sexual tension.
He had to almost lose me before he recognized that we were meant to be. Though that’s a different story.
I love my husband, but I think I might have to hurt him. Because if he doesn’t change his stance soon on having sex with his crazy, horny, pregnant wife…Let’s just say he’s going to find himself in an early grave.
Alright, let me back up a little and calm my hormones. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex with me; he’s just being overly cautious.
AKA stubborn. AKA pigheaded. AKA insufferable.
I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant with our second child and spitting nails horny. (In case you missed it.) My last pregnancy with our son, Wes, was a little bumpy at the end. I had developed preeclampsia at thirty-two weeks and then ended up going into labor at thirty-five weeks.
It had been when I passed out after my water broke that left Dex traumatized. He was at work when it all happened, and it was hours before he could get to me because he got stuck in traffic. Admittedly, it was scary, and I was lucky my mother was with me at the time and I made it to the hospital safely. In the end, Wes and I were fine and there were no complications.
I thought Dex was good after the shock wore off. He even talked with a therapist after it happened, as it brought back some old memories to the surface of when we were teenagers, and lost our best friend, Wesley. Whom we honored by naming our son after. But now, I’m seeing from his helicoptering ways that maybe the fear will always linger there.
I've tried to appease the crazy man by taking it easy. I went on early maternity leave, being able to work mostly from home overseeing the event planning business I had recently taken over. But was that enough? Nope. Dex has taken off work so he can watch over me. He wants me to keep my feet up, laze around till I'm as big as the house he had built for us.
Maybe some women wouldn't mind their husbands waiting on them hand and foot. I guess I wouldn't mind if there was an orgasm included. He's convinced himself, thanks to a misinformed Google site, that an orgasm will cause early labor. Since I was early with Wes, he doesn't want to take the chance—with anything.
“Meadow, there’s proof that orgasms can set off early labor. It says so right here on this website,” he said to me as he pointed to his laptop as I laid in bed with my feet propped up trying to ignore him and his overbearing ways.
I'm planning on disconnecting the WIFI for spreading lies to his head. At this point, he might as well wrap me in bubble wrap. But what’s the use?
I'm the prisoner, and he's the warden.
Speaking of the warden, while he is distracted in the shower, I’m making my great escape to the living room, tiptoeing, ever so slowly, hoping that no creaky floorboards can give me away. But it’s our dog, Lady, who barks at me from our bed, selling me out.
“Meadow? Where are you going?” Dexter calls out, standing in the doorway of our bathroom.
“You’re supposed to be on my team?” I hiss at the large Doberman, who has her ears pointed up innocently. Traitor. He’s even made my pup into a guard dog.
And I was so close. My hand was on the knob.
Why me?
I sigh as Dex walks into the room, a white towel hanging loose around his waist.
This no sex thing is going to be the death of me because I can’t remember when I was ever this horny.
If it’s not bad enough that he won’t touch me, he won’t let me suck that juicy dick of his either. He’s holding both our orgasms for ransom, and right now, all I want to do is rip that towel away and jump his bones.
Sexy, annoying, irritating bastard.
“I was going to get a drink, then maybe go mountain climbing afterward. You know, a normal Tuesday morning,” I say smugly, wearing the smug smile to go with it.
“Don’t be a smartass, Meadow. You know if you need anything, all you have to do is ask. You should be in bed, with your feet up, resting.”
“No, I should be in bed with your dick inside of me.” I stab my finger into his chest, with a little extra bite to my bark.
He chuckles and shakes his head. Well, I’m glad to see he’s finding this humorous. At least when he dies at my hand, he’ll do it, laughing. “Get into bed, Meow.” He goes to grab my hand, but I move it away from him. If he thinks calling me by his little playful nickname for me will give him bonus points, he has another thing coming.
“No, Dexter. Stop it already. The doctor said I was fine.”
“And she said the same thing last time—‘till you weren't."
Yep, I think I’m going to kill him. Consequences be damned.
"Oh my God, Dex. Every pregnancy is different. You need to stop being such a worrywart. It's not a good look on you."
