“We’re having another baby!” I roar happily. I’m busy kissing her belly and trailing upwards, lifting the dress as I go, reveling in our blessings.
“We are.” She’s holding my head and gently guiding me upwards, towards her face.
“You’re going to shop for really cool maternity clothes,” I muffle out from underneath her dress, “again.”
“I will.” She giggles as she lifts her dress away so she can see my face.
“And you said a very bad word earlier,” I comment, grazing the beautiful freckles on her chest with my lips. The ones I fell in love with twelve years ago.
“I did. I’m sorry,” she admits throatily, still guiding my lips to where she wants them. “That stubble on your jaw feels so good on my skin,” she moans.
God, she’s the perfect mix of prim and filthy. To the outside world, she’s this well-put-together high society woman. To me, she’s a goddess, a temptress, a fiery minx who’s all mine. Every inch of her is mine. Every facet of her being. Every piece of who she is. Mine. Always mine. Only mine.
“Don’t be. I think it’s hot.” I bury my face right in my safe zone, my favorite spot. I’ve already mentioned this before. “Is it too soon to start trying to make another one?”
“Mmm.” She pulls my face up to hers for a kiss. “No one’s home,” she whispers. “Take me. Mark me. Make me yours. I can scream your name all I want. No one will hear us.”
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