“Oh my God,” I moan, as I lean back further into his cock, to take it all the way inside me while I come.
“Come on my cock,” he tells me, pulling my hair and spanking my ass.
“Yes, Boss,” I say, feeling the sensation of an orgasm begin to wash over me.
“I’m your husband now,” he says, spanking me again. “Call me Husband.”
“Yes, Husband,” I say, full of pleasure so strong it’s overwhelming.
“Let me fuck you whenever and where I want, for the rest of my life.”
“Please, Husband.”
I moan and whimper over the sound of the waves crashing into us as he thrusts himself inside me still. When I’m released from the grips of my powerful orgasm, he says, “Now what do you want from me? Now and always?”
I lean back and look into his eyes, knowing that even when I’m spent and exhausted and dirty, I’ll want him more and more.
“More, Husband.”
DAMIEN
Now that I’ve given my bride pleasure, it’s time to give her some pain. I rub some ocean water on her ass hole and then use my finger to push my way inside it. I move my finger around inside her perfect ass hole, getting it ready.
“Are you going to let your husband fuck you in your ass?” he asks.
“Yes, Husband.”
I still love the way she submits to me. And I love even more the fact that she will do that for life.
I push my cock into her ass hole and she cries out into the wind and the waves.
“Don’t protest,” I tell her, slapping her ass.
“Yes, Husband.”
I thrust my cock in and out of her ass, pounding it like the waves are pounding us. I squeeze her ass cheek with one hand and hold her hip with my other hand.
I feel myself getting ready to throb inside her, harder than any of the rocks we’re fucking beside right now. But I don’t want to come in her ass. I have other plans.
“Turn around,” I tell her, pulling my cock out of her and helping her lie down on her sore ass in the sand.
I pull her wedding dress up so that I can see her perfect pussy even though the water is washing over it. I wash my cock off in the ocean water and then I plunge it into her eager pussy.
She’s as wet as the ocean now, and she’s arching her back and saying my name.
“Damien, that feels so good,” she calls out, as I play with her clit while I fuck her. “Oh, my boss. Oh, my husband. I’m going to come.”
I play with her nipple with my other hand. My cock bulges inside her, feeling the depths of her pussy and reminding me that there’s nothing coming between us.
I thrust in and out of her several more times as she begins to moan and come.
“I’m going to get you pregnant,” I tell her, as my cock pulses inside her. “You’re going to have my baby.”
“Yes, Boss,” she cries out, her body and her now- filthy wedding dress thrashing around in the waves. “Yes, Husband. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
“Tell me you want to have my baby,” I command, on the cusp of coming along with her.
I just want to hear her say that she wants the same thing I want. I won’t allow myself the sweet release until I hear her say it.
“Please, Boss,” she says, nearly screaming now. “Please, Husband. Please give me a baby.”
I shoot my load inside her, grunting with the force of it, hoping that it accomplishes our goal. I move her hair out of her face and look at it as we both come together.
I stay inside her, my cock pulsing and my arm strong around the shoulders.
Then I finally pull my cock out of her and watch some of my cum drip out, hoping that it’s not too much.
Soon the horse and carriage driver will be back to take us to our wedding reception, where we’ll continue the day’s festivities. I’ve accomplished my main goals— marry her, and begin trying to impregnate her, so now we deserve to relax and celebrate.
I look up at the beautiful colors of the sunset bursting across the sky and I’m reminded of why today is the best fucking day ever.
“And what will you say after we have the baby?” I ask, smiling down at my bride.
“More, Boss,” she answers, smiling back up at me. “Give me more, Husband.”
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Babies, Boss: Bonus Novella
Copyright 2017 by Julianna Conners
Chapter 1 – Madilyn
Two Months After Madilyn & Asher’s Wedding
The gel is cold on my stomach, and I jump. But my jumpiness is caused as much by my fear as it is from the temperature of the gel.
After an amazing honeymoon and two months of wedded bliss, Asher and I are in this sterile, dim doctor’s office where my first prenatal appointment is being held. It should be a time of continued happiness, and it is. But for me, at least—even though Asher always tells me not to worry so much— it’s also mixed with trepidation.
“I’m sorry,” the technician says. “I know this isn’t pleasant, but it’s all for a good cause.”
I smile at her even though I don’t feel like it. I know it’s not her fault I’m such a nervous wreck.
I squeeze Asher’s hand, glad he could take off work and come with me to my first ultrasound appointment. He squeezes back, strongly and firmly, which I appreciate because I can’t help but feel scared.
After a year of trying to get pregnant and being told that maybe we couldn’t, here we are at the doctor’s office to confirm that the pregnancy is actually sticking. Asher tells me not to use that word— “sticking”— but all the pregnancy forums I visit online all full of moms wishing each other “sticky baby dust,” or basically, healthy pregnancies.
I can’t help but think my circumstances thus far are all too good to be true—how could I end up marrying the love of my life and having his baby? It seems impossible that two people could be so blessed.
And, thanks to those pregnancy boards and Dr. Google, I also know that there are a lot of things that can go wrong in early pregnancy. We haven’t even told many people besides very close friends and family members about our pregnancy because I’m not in my second trimester yet. It’s just around the corner, and we’ve decided to announce the pregnancy if this ultrasound shows that everything is okay.
I keep feeling that things are okay— ever since my wedding day I’ve had a lot of morning sickness, for example. My breasts seem as if they’ve already doubled in size— much to Asher’s delight, even though he says they were great to begin with— and they’re sore.
But I’ve had some headaches and slight spotting, which is why I called to make this appointment a little earlier than my doctor usually does them, which is after the second trimester. I’m glad I could get in for an appointment now because wondering what’s going on in there and not being able to find out has been driving me crazy.
In general I think things are fine and my doctor said that spotting can be a normal part of pregnancy, but I’ve never been pregnant and the Internet gives me a lot to worry about. For these reasons I haven’t let myself get my hopes up about this ultrasound. I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch— nor have I ever thought of that metaphor in a more appropriate context.
“You said you’ve been having some spotting?” the technician asks.
“Yes,” I answer, becoming even more nervous.
She’s looking at a small screen that is turned towards her, which neither Asher nor I can see.
“And have you had any cramping?” she asks.
“Not really.”
My stomach churns. Why is she asking me about cramping?
“I mean, early on, but I read that could be because of implantation,” I explain.
She nods.
“It could be.”
I look at Asher and he squeezes my hand again, but his face has gone slightly pale. I can tell he’s acting braver than
he feels.
“I’m going to go see if there’s a doctor available,” the technician says. “I’ll be right back.”
As she stands up to leave the room, I can’t help but break into tears. I feel like such an idiot, but I’m also so worried I can’t stop myself.
“Please… don’t just leave,” I beg her. “Tell me what’s going on?”
I bring my hand to my stomach and pat the baby I’ve been carrying in there, to reassure him or her— as well as myself— that everything will be fine.
Won’t it?
“I’m not a trained doctor,” the technician says, with a slight frown on her face. “In fact, while I’m a trained ultrasound tech, I’m a pretty new one. I apologize. I just started here. So I really can’t give my opinion. That’s why I need to get a doctor in here.”
“Tell us if you think it’s good news or bad,” Asher demands, and I want to hug him.
I’m so glad for his strong, domineering presence when I feel as if I myself am about to break down. He is exactly what I need— just as he always is.
“I… I think things are fine,” the technician finally says, but wrinkles crinkle across her forehead and she scrunches up her eyebrows in a betraying sign of doubt. “I don’t think there’s any cause for alarm but I just want to go get a doctor.”
She nods and then hurries out before we can say anything else.
“Well isn’t that just our luck,” Asher says, shaking his head. “We get this newbie tech who doesn’t know anything. Great.”
“I’m really worried,” I tell him, sobbing softly now, free to let out my emotions since it’s only him and me in the room.
“Don’t be worried,” he says, his head smoothing out my hair. “It’s fine. She said she doesn’t think there’s any cause for alarm.”
“She didn’t seem so sure of what she was saying,” I wail. “And she admitted she’s brand new, so how does she even know?”
I can’t help but let all my worries come crashing down, nearly ruining what was supposed to be one of the best days of our lives, before I even know if anything’s wrong. But all I want is for this to work out and I’m so anxious when I think of what will happen if it doesn’t.
Chapter 2 – Madilyn
“There’s no reason to assume the worst,” Asher tells me, reaching over to kiss my cheek. “We should only assume that which the tech has told us: she’s new and needs a doctor to look at the screen.”
“Okay,” I tell him, letting out a long sigh.
My practical, reassuring husband is right. I know that logically, if not emotionally.
There’s no reason to expect the worst. Except that I want this to work out so badly I would just die if it doesn’t. I really don’t know what I would do. I want to tell Asher more about my fears but I realize he’s a little worried too, from the way he keeps rubbing my belly and shifting in his seat. His normally confident aura is a little lacking.
It feels like it’s taking an eternity for a doctor to come. I can tell that Asher is thinking the same thing but doesn’t want to say anything. Instead, he hums a little lullaby to the baby, running his hand over my very slight baby bump.
It seems early for it to have appeared, but it’s noticeably there. I’d read online that sometimes first time moms don’t start showing until their third trimester but I guess I have genetics that lend me to an earlier protruding baby bump. I don’t mind, though, because I love being pregnant and I can’t wait to show—and tell—the world.
For now I can keep it under wraps with blazers one size bigger than I normally wear, and dresses with certain colorful patterns in places that draw one’s eyes away from my middle section, but pretty soon it’s going to be quite obvious. And that’s fine because pretty soon we will be able to tell people.
“You’re just fine in there, my Baby,” Asher says when he’s finished humming.
He pats my belly. I smile at him and put my other hand over his.
He’s already a great father.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” says Dr. Morris as he steps into the office.
“I’m so glad to see you,” I tell him, letting out another big breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in so tightly. “Asher, this is Dr. Morris.”
“Nice to meet you,” Asher says, standing up to cross the room and hold out his hand to Dr. Morris.
“Oh sit back down and make yourself at home,” Dr. Morris tells him. “You have more exciting things to do today than shake my hand.”
Asher sits back down with a grin on his face and I want to tell him, “I told you you’d like him,” but I just laugh along with the two of them because I don’t want to give Dr. Morris an even bigger head that he already rightfully has. It rivals Asher’s, which is fine, since both of them are experts in their respective fields.
Dr. Morris is my regular family practice doctor and I trust him to be honest with me. He’s certainly more experienced than the ultrasound tech who walks back in behind him, looking a little sheepish.
“Let me take a look at what you were telling me about,” Dr. Morris says to the ultrasound tech, as he steps closer to the screen and places the wand back on my stomach. “It will also be a good time to teach you about looking at the different ventricles of the heart.”
It sounds as if things are okay. I’m just being used as a guinea pig for an ultrasound teaching moment. I don’t even care— as long as he tells me the baby is fine.
“See, there are kind of four sections, like this,” Dr. Morris continues, pointing at the screen with one hand while moving the ultrasound wand with the other. “Oh wait.”
He stops, and I tense up. So does Asher, but he keeps a tight grip on my hand.
“Well what do you know,” he says.
“Is the baby not okay?” I ask, bracing myself for the bad news, not sure how I can handle it.
“The baby’s heart rate is just fine,” Dr. Morris says, turning the screen around so I can see it. “But what had me stumped here is that there are two heart rates. So I guess I should say that the babies’— plural— heartrates are just fine.”
“Babies, plural?” Asher says, and audibly inhales.
“Yes, what?” I ask, unable to believe my ears.
“Right here,” Dr. Morris says, pointing at two babies on the screen. They’re bouncing around, and one of them is waving at us.
“This one was behind the other at first,” he says, pointing at the one who is waving. “That’s why it was confusing you.”
Now, he’s speaking to the technician.
“But you were right. That was two heartbeats you were hearing. One was just being shy, but now he or she has come out to say hello to his or her parents.”
He beams at us, and I start crying tears of joy instead of sadness. Looking at over at Asher, I notice a slight tear gathering in his eye as well— just like on our wedding day. This is only the second time I’ve seen my strong, brave husband come anywhere close to crying, and it’s only when he’s experiencing complete happiness.
This is why I love him. And this is why I’m so glad I’m having his baby. Make that babies. I’m having my boss’s— and my husband’s— babies. I can’t even believe it.
Chapter 3 – Madilyn
“Oh my God,” I say. “We’re having twins?”
“We’re having twins!” Asher shouts.
It looks like he was in shock and is just starting to believe the news himself.
He stands up and looks as if he’s going to bounce up and down. Instead, he extends his hand to Dr. Morris.
“Now can I shake your hand?”
“Or course,” Dr. Morris says, reaching out and meeting Asher’s hand. Asher pumps it wildly, deliriously. “Congratulations. I must say, this is a unique reaction.”
“My husband is very unique indeed,” I tell Dr. Morris, winking at Asher.
“Well, I’m certainly very happy for the two of you.”
I wish I could join Asher in jumping for joy but I’m a little tied u
p— in quite a different way than I’m usually tied up when I’m with Asher. As he sits back down, Dr. Morris switches the image over to a large projector in front of us.
“Now,” he says, “Since we know everything sounds good, we can look at things up closer on here.”
“I figured it was either twins, or an abnormally fast heartbeat,” the technician tells him. “I was really hoping it was the former, but didn’t want to…”
“Lead them down one direction or another without consulting me,” Dr. Morris says, nodding. “That was the right decision. You did well.”
“And I was also noticing…”
“Yes,” Dr. Morris says, pointing with an arrow to one part of the screen and taking a picture. “The cervix. I’m glad you mentioned that to me as well.”
He frowns, and Asher immediately says, “What is it, Doctor? Be straight with us. We already got the good news. Now give us the bad.”
“It’s probably not that bad,” Dr. Morris says, reassuringly. “It’s just that the cervix is a bit open for this stage in the pregnancy, and we need to keep an eye on it.”
“Keep an eye on it?” I ask.
“We’ll start you on some progesterone,” he tells me. “And we’ll schedule you for a follow up ultrasound in a month. If it opens much further we might need to do what’s called a curtilage, to stitch it close and further reinforce the cervix.”
“So worst case scenario, that’s all it’ll be?” Asher asks.
Dr. Morris frowns again.
“I never want to say ‘best’ or ‘worst’ case scenarios,” he says. “Because these things can be unpredictable. Best case is always a safe full term delivery of a healthy baby, of course. Or in your case, two healthy babies. Worst case scenario…”
He trails off, obviously not wanting to finish.
“Worse case scenario is always bad, always the exact opposite of that,” Asher says, bluntly. “I get that. But in this exact case, what could happen?”
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