He is my world. My everything.
He thrusts himself inside me until the base of his cock hits my entrance. Buried to the hilt. He closes his eyes and holds that position for a brief moment before rocking in and out of me slowly.
His pace gradually quickens but not to a point of aggression. Not even close. This is making love. And hopefully making a baby.
I cup the back of his neck with my hands and pull his face to mine. “I love you so much.”
He stretches upward and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you too, mo maise.”
Closed eyes. The muscles in his face and neck flexed. “I’m going to come.”
I hear those words and I wrap my arms and legs around him, squeezing. I hold him tightly and he remains unmoving inside of me, his body filling mine with a part of himself that will join with a part of me and make our baby.
Maybe.
With his forehead still pressed to mine, his weight covers me like a blanket. He remains inside of me and the only movement happening between us is the rise and fall of our lungs.
“Did we really just do that?”
“Aye. We really just did that.” He lowers his mouth to mine, lightly kissing my lips. “And now you need to lie on your back with your hips elevated.”
“Elevated how?”
“The article said we could use a pillow, but I have something else in mind.”
He rises and kneels between my legs, patting the tops of his thighs. “Put your bum here and your ankles on my shoulders.”
I lift my hips from the bed and he shoves a pillow under my butt before grabbing my feet and putting them on his shoulders. “You’re turning me upside down?”
“That’s the gist, I guess.”
“You really want this to work, don’t you?”
I’ve been surprised by his interest in researching natural ways to increase the odds.
“You know me, Lou. I’m astute in everything I do.”
“Do you really think this position helps?” We didn’t do it before and I seem to have gotten pregnant easily.
“I don’t know how much it helps, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“Do you have any other fun positions for us to try?”
“A whole list of them. Missionary was just to get warmed up. We’re trying the plow next.”
“The plow?” I giggle because it sounds so silly. “Explain that one, please.”
“Picture me holding a farmer’s plow. Your legs are the handles. Your arms and head are the chisel part on the ground. I’m going to stand and you’re going to put your head and arms on the bed.”
“I’m facedown on the bed with my ass and legs in the air?” That’s just great.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Well, that’s one way we’ve never done it.”
“And I strongly suspect it won’t be the last time.”
“You think you’re going to enjoy plowing my fields, huh?”
“Aye, and when I’m done cultivating your land, I’m going to plant my seed.”
“My, my. You are a clever one tonight, Mr. Hutcheson.”
He smiles and I wait for more clever words but they don’t come.
“What is it?”
“I’m remembering all the times when I thought you were your most beautiful.”
“Go on. I need to hear some flattery because I don’t feel very beautiful like this.”
“The night we met at the Inamorata gala. The first time you lay beneath me. When you told me you loved me the first time. When I saw how much you love Ava Rose. When you became my wife. And even though you might not think so, right now.” He turns his head and kisses the side of my ankle. “In this moment you are so damn beautiful to me.”
I reach out and run my fingers through the bristly hairs on his thighs. “Hutch?”
“What is it, mo maise?”
“I think you should plow my field now.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yes. Right now.”
And that’s exactly what he does.
31
Maxwell Hutcheson
It’s our last weekend in Edinburgh. Can’t say I’m sorry about that. I’m looking forward to moving into our new house in Glasgow.
But I am going to miss this fucking dobber. He’s been my best mate since I went to work at Lochridge.
“Lou really likes Ella. Maybe the two of you can come up for the weekend after we’re settled into the new house.”
“Aye. I know Ella would like that. She enjoys spending time with you two since you’re our hashtag-couple-goals.”
“How is that going by the way? Your extended relationship?”
“It’s good.” Brady chuckles. “It’s great actually.”
“Cora chose well?”
“She did. But she should have for what it cost.”
“Worth every pound though, aye?”
“One hundred percent worth it. Ella is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“Let’s just say I can see the potential.”
“Is she the kind of lass you’d want to marry?”
“Possibly.”
“Good. I’m happy things are going well for you.” Brady is a good man. He deserves to be happy.
“What about your brother and his nuptials? That’ll be here before you know it.”
“Only a month away.”
“Is he ready for that and everything it includes?”
“I think he is. He’s grown up a lot since Pearl was born.” A child does that to you.
“Having a child changed you.”
“With me, I think it was the wife more than the child.”
“True. Lou has changed you but in a good way.”
I think it’s time to drop the bomb on Brady. “We’re trying to have a baby.”
“Well. Fuck. Me.”
“Sorry mate. Can’t. I have to save all of my spunk for Lou.”
“Hey, Cameron, are you going to pour my beers or do I have to come around there and do it myself?” the barmaid shouts.
“Calm your tits, Maggie. I’ll get to them in a minute.”
Cameron. Bartender.
Lou’s Cameron?
Fuck, it pisses me off that I called him that in my head just now.
Cameron Stewart is Lou’s past. She’s my wife. We have a family. We’re trying to have another baby. A man from her past means nothing.
Except it’s bugging me. I want to know if this bartender is Cameron Stewart. I want to know if this is the man who tried to win Lou back while we were apart. The man who proclaimed his love for my wife.
A husband just needs to know shite like that.
And he needs to claim what is his so a fucker like Cameron Stewart doesn’t come around trying to fuck with his wife.
“Let’s move to the bar.”
“No fucking way. I have a perfect view of the game from here. I won’t be able to see it from over there.”
“Just do this for me, please.”
“I might if you tell me why.”
“This bartender. I think he’s Lou’s ex.”
“Why do you care even if he is? He’s part of Cait’s past.”
“I need to set some shite straight with him if he’s her ex.”
“O-fucking-kay.” Brady stands and shoves his chair under the table. “Jealous possessive alpha motherfucker.”
“That’s accurate.”
We move to the bar and he washes a few glasses before noticing us. “What can I get you?”
“Tomatin.”
“For you too, mate?”
“Aye.”
“Tomatin’s a nice choice. Smooth.”
He grabs two glasses, pouring each two fingers high, and I push a bill across the counter when he tells me the total. “I’ve got this round.”
“You’ve got all of them for making me leave my good seat.”
“Fair enough. Drinks on me tonight.”
I study the bar
tender trying to decide if he looks like the guy in the photo I saw on Lou’s phone, and I can’t decide. It’s been too long since I saw it.
Fuck this.
“Hey, mate. Seems like you’ve served me drinks somewhere else before.”
“I worked at The Last Drop for a few years.”
I fucking knew it.
“You worked with Cait and Rachel?”
“Oh yeah. I know those lasses well. I haven’t seen Rachel since she stopped working at the pub, but I ran into Cait on the train a while back.” He leans closer. “And between me and you, she’s a mighty fine shag. I plan on getting some more of that next time I run into her.”
“Ohhh, fuck,” Brady says and gets up. “I’m going to the toilet.”
“She is an excellent shag. And I should know. Because she’s my wife.”
“Your wife?”
“Listen and listen well because you’ll only get one warning. Cait is mine. If you try to talk to her again, I will kill you. If you ever see her out and you tell her you love her, I will kill you. If you ever touch her, I will kill you. Zero hesitation.”
Cameron holds up his hands. “I had no idea she was married. Honest-to-God truth.”
“You should consider yourself lucky I haven’t come across this bar and choked the fuck out of you for talking about my wife like that.”
“My apologies. I didn’t know.”
“Well you know now.”
Aye, a bigger man might have walked out of here without saying a word to Cameron Stewart, but I couldn’t do it. I need him to know that Cait belongs to me. I need him to know that he can never have her again.
And now he does know.
“Glad to see you didn’t jump over the bar and beat our bartender senseless.”
I considered it. “Trust me. I wanted to.”
“I could see that.”
“You’d have done it too if it were you in my situation.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it. When you love a woman the way I love Cait, there is no limit to what you’ll do for her.”
“Do you want to get out of here and go to another pub?”
“I’ve said what I needed to say and I’m good. It’s over now.”
“All right. But can we go back to the fucking table already? I can’t see shite from here.”
“Fine.”
“Drinks are still on you, motherfucker.”
“Fine.”
32
Caitriona Hutcheson
I enter our bedroom and Hutch is sound asleep. I can’t believe he beat me home. I figured my girls’ night out with Rachel would end long before his boys’ night out with Brady.
Damn, he smells like whisky. I can smell it all the way across the room.
But I’m not mad. Hutch and Brady have been best mates for many years. I’m sure neither of them will admit it but both of them must be sad they’ll no longer see each other on a daily basis.
They won’t be colleagues anymore. They won’t live in the same town.
Hell, that makes me a little sad. And their final hoorah was well-deserved.
Hutch is Scottish. He holds his whisky well. And I usually enjoy our nights together after he’s had a few drinks, but I’m not sure about tonight. He looks like he could be smashed.
“Hutch?” I shake his arm. “Hutch?”
He opens his eyes wide enough to form narrow slits and smiles when he sees me. “Did you take the test yet?”
“No. I just got home from my girls’ night out with Rachel. I’m taking it in the morning, remember?”
“Right.”
He holds out his arm, lifting the covers. “Get into bed with me.”
I climb into bed beside my drunk husband, still wearing my clothes.
“I love you, Lou.”
“I love you too.”
He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “I met Cameron Stewart tonight.”
I rise and prop on my elbows. “Whaaat?”
“He told me he wanted to shag you again, and I told him I would kill him if he ever touched you.”
“Where the hell did you see Cameron? And how did that conversation even get started?”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s late and I’ve had a lot to drink. Let’s go to sleep.”
It’s only a minute or so before Hutch is drunk-snoring. Perfect. I get to listen to that all night.
I’m burning up so I get out of bed and take my clothes off. I’m completely naked when I crawl into bed next to my sleeping husband. He’s naked too. For some reason, he strips down completely when he’s had a lot to drink.
He rolls toward me, draping his bulky arm and heavy leg across my body. Not comfortable.
I lie beneath him wide awake as he continues to snore directly into my ear.
I’m not drunk but I wish I were because the alternative is that I’m horny. I want sex, but I’m guessing that’ll probably be impossible since my husband is tanked.
I stare at the ceiling for a while and close my eyes. Just go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.
Hutch stirs and his hand moves to cup my breast. It doesn’t help matters at all.
I should probably feel ashamed for what I’m about to do, but I don’t. Not even a little. Because what man would be angry about being awakened for sex?
“Hutch.” He doesn’t stir, so I shake his arm. “Hutch.”
“Hmm.” It’s a groan, but not the sexy kind.
“I want you.”
“What, mo maise?” His words are slightly slurred.
I wrap my hand around his cock, and damn, he’s limp as a wet noodle. “Wake up.”
While squeezing, I pump my hand up and down, and I can feel the blood beginning to fill his cock. “I want you to fuck me.”
He jolts and his cock gets bigger and harder in my hand. “I’m up. I’m awake.”
He attempts to sit up and then falls back against the bed. “I’m fucked up. You’re going to have to get on top.”
I move over and straddle him. He grips my hips and groans when I sink down his cock. “You feel so fucking good, mo maise.”
He isn’t wrong. It feels really good, but I already know I’m not going to come like this. I need more than penetration to get off and Hutch is too incapacitated to do what it takes to get me there.
I’ll have to do it for myself.
And I do.
Hutch barely comes before he passes out but it’s okay. I got what I needed.
* * *
Even a hungover Hutch still wakes before me. Amazing. I don’t know how he does it.
I’m lying on my stomach and the bed sheet is draped over my bottom. His warm breath hits my skin and then the slight scrape of his facial scruff moves along my lower back, followed by the kiss of his mouth. “It’s morning, sleepyhead.”
I lift my pillow and bury my head beneath it. “How are you so cheery this morning after a whisky drunk like last night?”
“I’m actually not cheery at all. I feel like shite, but I’m up because I’m dying for you to take the test.” He crawls up my back and lies on top of me with his mouth at my ear. “Get your sweet bum into the loo and pee on that stick.”
“Do you want to look at the results together?”
“Well, hell yes. You’re not finding out before I do.”
“Just making sure.”
I scoot toward the edge of the bed and he catches my hand. “You know it’s fine if it’s not positive, right? That just means we’ll get to keep trying, which isn’t a bad alternative at all.”
I nod. “I know.”
I go into the bathroom and my bladder feels like it’ll explode before I’m able to open the box and do the deed.
Your hopes were so high last month when you did this and then the test was negative. You were so disappointed. Let’s not get too excited like you did last time, Cait. Everyone doesn’t get pregnant on the first try. Or second. Sometimes it takes a little while. You know this. But also d
on’t be afraid. You’ve made a baby with Hutch before. You can do it again. It’ll happen.
I come out of the bathroom and sit beside him on the bed. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close, saying nothing. And that’s okay. We don’t have to say anything.
My phone chimes when the time is up and I turn off the annoying sound.
“I love you no matter what.”
“I know. Love you too.”
Missionary? Unsuccessful.
The plow? Unsuccessful.
Reverse cowgirl? Definitely fun but successful? We’re about to find out.
I inhale deeply as we walk into the bathroom and release the breath slowly as we stand over the test. It’s amazing how the presence or absence of two lines inside the windows on this plastic stick has the power to dictate our happiness.
One bright pink line. And then a lighter-colored one next to it.
Two lines.
“This isn’t what it looked like last month.”
The directions said that the line, even if light in color, was a positive as long as a line was there. This is exactly what it looked like when I was pregnant the first time. “It looked different last month because it was negative.”
“This is a positive result? You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I’m pregnant.”
We reach for each other at the same time, squeezing tightly, and Hutch peppers kisses against the side of my face. “We did it, mo maise.”
“Yes, we did.” But I’m still mindful of what happened last time. “Let’s not tell anyone yet.”
“No one? Not even my parents?”
“I’d rather not until I reach twelve weeks. The chance of miscarriage becomes much lower after that point.”
“That’s a long time to wait when you’re as excited as I am.”
“Think of it this way. It can be a secret only the two of us get to share. That makes it special.”
Hutch picks me up and carries me to the bed, depositing me on top like a fragile treasure. He lies beside me, his hand over my lower stomach. “How long will it be until you look pregnant?”
Beautiful Ever After: Beautiful Illusions Duet Book 2 Page 20