A Perfect Love

by Becca Lee

  I had the good grace to look shifty and shrugged. “Just checking you hadn’t digested an alien life form or something.” I couldn’t help the grin forming on my face.

  “You do realise my head is right next to your dick, right?” I placed my hands in front of my nuts. She quirked a brow. “One solid bite and this is the last baby you’ll ever be making, moron.”

  I reached behind me and grabbed a towel. Opening it up, I placed it over her shoulders and helped her stand. I pulled her close to me. “You better?” She nodded against my chest. “What do you need from me? I did go by the shop on the way home and bought you a gingerbread man.”

  Jo pulled away from me and smiled. “More reading?”

  “There was a whole load of information about weird-arse things to stop you being sick. The only thing I could find made of ginger was a gingerbread man. It’s one you can decorate yourself.” I’d been damn proud of myself, too. I was really getting the hang of this pregnancy stuff.

  A beautiful smile lifted her tired eyes. “Thank you, Liam.” She stood on her toes.

  “Erm, teeth?” I loved Jo, more than anything in fact, but there was no way I could be kissing her after she just threw up.

  “Shit, right.” Securing the towel around her body, she brushed her teeth while I went to get her cookie and a glass of water, wrapped in my own towel.

  A few moments later, I had her newly decorated gingerbread man sporting a huge icing-sugar cock. I looked down at my artwork, feeling pretty impressed with myself.

  “What are you grinning for?” Jo was sitting on the bed, pouring a whole heap of lotion onto her naked body.

  I shrugged and handed her the cookie, setting her lotion to the side. She burst out laughing. “What have you done?”

  I sat next to her, still grinning. “What?”

  She looked from the icing penis to me and then back again. “Have you modelled this on anyone I know?” she teased.

  “I may have. It’s pretty huge and impressive. Much like my own specimen.” I placed my hands behind me and leaned back on them, allowing my towel to fall open.

  I watched Jo as her eyes instantly lowered to my groin. She nibbled on her bottom lip, and her tongue peeped out a moment, which made my soft dick stir. “But,” her eyes flicked to mine, “does it taste as sweet?”

  Holy Christ. Jo always knew how to make me come apart. A look, a touch, a gesture, or the hot words coming out of her sweet mouth would unravel me. They’d also usually make me want to throw myself at her, offering her a taste of the pleasure she gave me. There was nothing more I wanted than to tease her and possibly challenge her to a taste test, and give her the chance to find out which cock tasted best. Hell, I’d even offer to smother the icing all over my dick if it added to the sweetness, but my mouth on her in that moment was a taste I needed first.

  “You going to eat that?” My voice was strained and gruff.

  Her eyes dilated and then turned to the cookie with the huge penis. Sticking her tongue out, she brought it to her mouth and licked the icing clean off. I swallowed, knowing just how wonderful her tongue felt. Looking at me once again, she grinned and then bit the head clean off. She attempted to chew between her laughter as I shot down to my knees in front of her, spread her legs open, and mimicked the lick she’d just demonstrated.

  “Fuck.” I looked up, ensuring the word this time was in pleasure and not an indication she was going to be sick. Her head had fallen back, her arms propping her up.

  “Rest, baby. Lie down.” She smiled, and I was sure her eyes mirrored my own love and need. As she lay back, I cupped her arse and pulled her toward my face. I released a satisfied growl when I tasted blackcurrant and vanilla, probing further and needing to push her over the edge. Spending the night between Jo’s legs was what I had set out to do, and I had every intention of doing it every damn night.

  Chapter Three

  Jo

  I had yet to make an appointment with anyone, or actually find out whom I was supposed to make a damn one with. This pregnancy stuff was so confusing; I had no bloody idea where to start. One thing was for sure, though: the whole pregnancy gig was exhausting.

  I was never one to sit back and let life dictate its terms. Too much mayhem had happened in my life for that. A long time ago, life thought it had me beat, but that dick called life hadn’t known who it was messing with. Since then, I was something of a bulldozer. Perhaps not the most articulate description, or even the best way to handle life, but for the last few years, it had worked for me.

  Until recently.

  After three days in the office finalising contracts and blueprints, working past ten o’clock, I was well and truly beat. I was so relieved it was the weekend. My plan was to sleep. There would be no pushing through, no ignoring my achy limbs and rolling eyes, and most definitely no ignoring the nugget growing in my belly. I was dirt-tired.

  Liam was feeling the general exhaustion, too, but he wasn’t being wrecked by dry heaving and being drained of nutrients. That was certainly my excuse when I forced him out of bed to make me a mug of tea and some toast. He’d grumbled the whole time, but he relented as soon as he took in my death glare.

  Our only plan for the weekend was to have lunch with my folks on Sunday. Ella and Preston would be there for support, because I’d demanded they be there when I told my folks about the baby. Somehow, Ella had managed to convince Preston not to rat me out and tell my mum and dad they were going to be grandparents. In fact, I really didn’t want to know exactly how she’d sweet-talked him into it.

  I needed them there as back-up. I was hoping with Ella’s presence, they wouldn’t pull out the birthing videos—yep, plural—and insist on talking me through every painful step as they went. The worst thing—and somehow, it really was worse—was that they weren’t even theirs, as in my mum giving birth to Preston and me. They were a few random videos, as in VHS tapes. (They had refused to get rid of their ‘trusty’ VHS player, I think for the sole purpose of these videos.) They’d bought them from a charity shop close to eighteen or so years ago. Sick, right? It begged the question, who in their right mind bought homemade birthing movies from a charity shop, or indeed donated them? It was impossible not to shudder at the thought.

  I’d borne witness to the offending tapes, three in total, when I was in my teens, as had Preston. Somehow, Ella, despite our family home being her second home, had managed to evade them. Ella was my only shield, my only chance at protection. I just hoped it worked. If not, I think Liam may be pushed over the edge and into the realm of contacting the authorities to get my entire damn family sanctioned.

  We’d been together long enough for him to be used to their specialness, their uniqueness, but the sharing of the videos may blow the quirky into the deranged.

  “What are you shaking your head at?” Liam walked into the bedroom balancing two plates in one hand and grasping two cups of tea in the other. I sat up to remove the mugs from their precarious position.

  “Just thinking about our visit to Mum and Dad’s tomorrow.”

  “Nervous?” He set a plate on my lap. Picking up a slice of toast, I took a small bite, warming my stomach up to accepting sustenance. Not immediately gagging was a small success, so I leaned back against the headboard and took a larger bite.

  Settling next to me, Liam munched happily away on his toast, almost inhaling one slice in three bites. “Not really,” I answered. He looked at me with a raised brow, and I sighed. “Okay, sort of. I know they’re going to be happy. Crazy happy, in fact. It just makes everything even more real, you know?” He nodded. “Plus, you know how excited they get. I’m just worried they’re going to get too much and lay it on too thick.”

  I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I loved my parents, wholly so, and I was damn grateful for their support and their love. They would do everything in their power to make me happy. At times, though, it was a bit too much. It would be nice for them to take a step back and think about themselves for once.

  W
orrying about Preston after his accident a few years back and fussing over me after my shit had taken its toll. I was sure of it. They were looking tired. I hoped since I was ‘married off’, as my dad had so eloquently described it, and that Preston and Ella were crazy in love, they would finally stop worrying about us. They seemed to always be waiting for a relapse of some kind. I saw it at our wedding even. Through the smiles and happy tears, every now and then, I saw my folks share a look. I had no idea what the look meant. I couldn’t even begin to describe it or mimic it, but it was a look I’d been seeing for the last few years. All I knew for sure was that it meant there was an element of worry there, always for us, Preston and me.

  It hadn’t been that long since our wedding, but already my parents appeared to wear an easier smile. They didn’t seem to have moments when they’d be absorbed in thought, waiting to pounce and protect. I really needed to talk to them about getting away and having a break.

  “It’ll be fine. You know your mum will cluck, even though she says she’s in no rush for grandkids, and your dad will want to start building a fort or something outside in preparation. That’s okay. We can let them do that. And if they begin to get too much, you can go into hibernation, days at a time.”

  “It’s summer.” I was being facetious.

  Liam paused from taking a sip of his tea and quirked his right brow, tilting his head.

  “What? I was just pointing out that creatures don’t hibernate in summer is all.”

  Shaking his head in response, Liam continued. “My point is it will be fine. Don’t sweat it.” He took a large mouthful of tea and sighed in contentment.

  I yawned, covering my mouth. “Okay.” Taking another bite of toast, I chewed and swallowed before speaking. “What are your plans today?”

  “I need to check over just a couple of things on the new contract that’s come in. I want to have a look at my bike, too. Other than that, not a fat lot.”

  I snickered. “Look at your bike. No doubt you mean that literally, weirdo.”

  He puffed out his chest. “No, I need to just do a couple of things on it.”

  “And then take it out for a test ride, huh? You know, if you want to just go out for a ride, you don’t have to pretend your bike needs working on. You’ve never needed a reason before.”

  He shrugged. “I know.”

  I wasn’t convinced. His lack of eye contact was a dead giveaway. “Do you? What’s going on? You’re acting a little weird.”

  Placing his mug and plate on the bedside table, he scooted down the bed a little, leaned toward me, lowered the bed sheet, and kissed my bare belly. “I just…you know what a dick I can be sometimes on my bike.”

  I couldn’t help it. I scoffed and was pretty sure I was hallucinating. Liam had just admitted he was a knob head on his bike. For years, I’d groaned, spat and hissed at him to slow the crap down and stop doing little dick moves. He was convinced it had the opposite effect on his dick over the years, much to my vocal denial. Anyone who thought doing wheelies on an open bloody road for God knows how long was a prick. Okay, so he was hot as hell, and his skill always got me ridiculously horny, but I was never, ever going to let him know that. It would have made him worse. But seriously, it was bloody dangerous. He’d broken a couple of bones and had a few quite serious scrapes, but at that moment, his admitting he could be a dick made me do a double take.

  Liam lifted his head to look at me. “What?” His eyes were wide open and a slight smile played on his gorgeous lips.

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, with the baby, you know, I thought it was time I stopped. I know every time I head out on my bike, you panic.” He kissed my soft stomach again, and I laced my fingers through his hair and gently stroked his head.

  He was right; I did. I was a walking contradiction. I loved that he rode. His bike was sexy, and I loved holding him close and going out with him. We’d had quite a few adventures and hot moments on his bike over the years, but when he was by himself, I freaked the crap out, terrified he wouldn’t come home to me.

  “I just thought the last thing you needed was to worry about me, is all.”

  I had no idea if it was possible for a heart to spasm and grow from a few simple words. All I knew was that my eyes filled with tears and I held my breath while my heart ached a little. My beautiful, sexy, dick of a man was absolutely perfect and a whole heap of wonderful. The fact that he would even consider quitting riding to stop me from worrying blew me away. I may have had a mini-orgasm in the process. I sniffed and brushed away the tears as they slipped from my eyes.

  “I’ll always worry about you, softie, whether it’s going out for a drink with your mates, travelling to work in the car or being on your bloody bike. I worry ‘cause I love you so damned much.” I looked around for a tissue and eyed the bed sheet before I caught Liam looking at me and I thought better of it. “I don’t want you to stop riding. Yes, I want you to stop being a prick and doing stupid shit, and slow down, but I always want you to have the freedom to ride. I know you need it.”

  I watched as Liam leaned to his bedside table and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box. He handed them to me, and I unceremoniously wiped my eyes and blew my nose after putting my tea down.

  Liam smiled, a beautiful, tender smile, which only came out when I knew I was being a big suck. He leaned in and kissed me on my forehead. “You okay?”

  I shrugged and laughed. “Stupid bloody hormones. I’m fine, honest.”

  “Did you mean it?”

  Nodding and sniffing, I said, “Absolutely. Just be safe and keep coming home to me.”

  Taking me by the waist, Liam shimmied me down the bed, spread my legs, and lay on top of me, groin to groin but off my stomach. I looked into his eyes and smiled at what I saw. I was confident the love I saw shining in them reflected my own. It was rare for me to be mushy, but to be honest; Liam always managed to chip away at my edges and made me melt with a simple word or touch. This time, it had been a double whammy and I was convinced I would be leaving a wet spot on the bed. “Always. Never doubt I’ll always come home to you, baby.” Definitely a puddle moment.

  His lips met mine and I opened to him, welcoming his tongue. The shiver travelling down my spine hit my sweet spot and had me arching in for more. Breaking the kiss, he left a trail of smooches down my neck. I happily angled my head to give him better access. I did love lots of sweet attention to my neck. As a content sigh escaped my parted lips, there was a knock on the front door. Liam’s kisses paused. He raised his head and looked at me, a frustrated smile on his lips.

  “You expecting anyone?”

  I shook my head in response. “Maybe it’s just Jehovah’s Witnesses. If we ignore them, they’ll just go away.”

  He laughed and continued to kiss down to my breasts, his hot mouth finding my nipple. “I like your way of thinking,” he said between nibbles.

  I pushed my sensitive breasts toward his mouth. I’d noticed they’d become increasingly tender over the last week. It was an added bonus when his mouth and hands wrapped around them. I sighed again, let my hands travel to his firm backside and squeezed.

  “I know you’re in there.” The voice travelled through the front door followed by a hard knock.

  “Shit,” I groaned. Bloody Ella would be experiencing the wrath of a horny, pregnant woman. Bloody cow.

  Liam laughed into my breasts and rolled off me. “You know she won’t leave. We best get up.”

  I huffed. Ella had a knack for being a cock blocker. Some best bloody friend she was. She regularly managed to interrupt us when I was getting happy, or about to. Her argument was that it was our fault for getting it on at every opportunity possible, and in some slightly obscure places. I had to give her kudos on the obscure. I was not one for public sex, but sometimes, we couldn’t help but find a large tree to hide behind. In my defence, though, the bottle tree at the races that one time was pretty huge. Liam had convinced me we were hidden. Ella had great delight, mid-thrust, le
tting us know we weren’t, making us aware that security were heading our way. But at 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning, I was allowed to be banging my hubby in bed. It was my God-given right. Well, that was my version of the vows we made to one another, anyway.

  “Okay, I’m getting up.” Getting out of bed, Liam smacked my arse and shifted quickly out the way when I turned to him. “Yeah, you better run.”

  Laughing, he headed to the bathroom while I threw on my PJs and headed to my best friend, who had no sense of timing.

  By the time Ella left, I had a list of jobs and was thoroughly exhausted, again. So much for a relaxing weekend. She’d talked me into needing a bubble bath and my bed, yet it was only early afternoon. Coming armed with baby books and a list of websites to visit, we’d worked out what I had to do. Okay, there was no we involved; it was a royal we for sure. She’d organised me, colour-coded me, and as a result, I had about a hundred bookmarked sites on my Google Chrome, all separated into damn folders. I hadn’t even realised you could create folders.

  I looked at my list and felt a little shell-shocked. Glancing around my kitchen, I considered how my life had moved on and changed over the years. With this thought, I couldn’t help the grin forming on my face even if I wanted to, which I absolutely didn’t. Armed to the eyeballs with all sorts of knowledge, I finally reached a place where my panic was turning into a bubble of excitement.

  Placing my hands on my stomach, I continued to smile. I wondered what it would be like to feel my baby kick. What I would look like in four months’ time. I was caught in my grinning pose by Liam. He closed the kitchen screen door behind him, forcing my head up when I heard the catch.

  “Is it all clear?”

  Nodding, I said, “It certainly is.” I remained transfixed, hands on tummy and eyes gazing into Liam’s. Damn, he looked hot. He had grease on his face, grubby torn jeans, and a vest, which he smoothly took off, revealing his tanned perfection of a chest.

  “What are you looking so pleased about?” He headed to the kitchen sink and washed his hands.