by Layne Harper
“Nope.” I smile, looking up at him as Pancho lies down beside me, placing his head in my lap.
Colin toes off his brown-leather dress shoes first, and places them in the empty spot on his shoe rack. I hold my breath, hoping that he’ll notice my new addition to his closet, but his eyes pass right over them. Next, he slips off his navy slacks, revealing his bare bottom to me.
“Can you ever be troubled to put on underwear?”
He shimmies his behind. “You love it.” His voice is full of mirth.
He tosses the pants and cream linen button-up shirt in the dry-clean basket. I’m not sure why. He couldn’t have worn the new shirt but for a couple of hours. However, now’s not the proper time to question our dry cleaning bill.
Then, he saunters over to his drawer that he keeps his workout shorts in. If the baby shoes were snakes they’d have bitten him by now, but he still doesn’t notice.
Look down!
He slides on a pair of his brand of shorts, and tugs a black sleeveless T-shirt—also his brand—from the hanger.
I hold my breath as he joins me on the floor with a plop, tossing his shirt over his shoulder.
“You’re sure acting strange,” he says as he reaches toward his Nikes.
Time stands still. In mere seconds he’s going to know my secret. He’s going to know that our life is about to change in ways that we can’t even imagine. I hold my breath in anticipation and study his face, craving his reaction as he spots the tiny shoes. A chill drives down my spine, marking this moment.
I know exactly when he spot them. His face shifts from impassive to disbelief in nanoseconds. His head whips around. Eyes, as green as emeralds, blaze at me. His eyebrows meet his hairline as he opens his mouth and closes it, as if he’s a guppy. I watch him swallow and try to speak again.
I’m frozen as he leans forward, picking up the baby shoes, holding them in the palm of his hand. They both fit there perfectly. He marvels at them as if they’re precious jewels. Then he turns back to me with wet eyes. Wonderment fills his voice. “These are baby shoes.”
My face lights up, not needing to confirm the obvious. He turns back and stares at the shoes in his hand. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down—hard. After a couple of heart beats, he whispers, “They go on a baby.”
I gently tease him as I scoot closer and rub my hand on his thigh, feeling his soft leg-hair tickle the tips of my fingers. His body heat is soothing, and an overwhelming feeling of peace washes over me. “I think they’re too small for me, and there aren’t enough of them for Pancho.” My voice is rich with humor and love.
Colin swallows again as he continues to stare at the little Nikes. I can’t tell if he’s in shock, or simply too overwhelmed to comprehend that we’re actually pregnant. “But that means that they’ll go on a baby,” he says after some time.
I reach up with my thumb and brush a tear that’s trickling down his cheek. “Yes. They’ll fit the baby.”
“Our baby,” he whispers as if he’s trying out the words for the first time. “Our baby,” he repeats a little more loudly with awe in his voice.
He turns and stares at me. “Our baby.” His wet eyes glisten, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a beautiful little smile. “You mean that you’re pregnant with our baby.”
I can’t resist, because the air is thick with way too much emotion. “Well, I never said that the baby is yours, but yes. I’m pregnant,” I reply trying to hide my smile.
He pulls me onto his lap, and tickles my sides while I scream. Pancho leaps to his feet and barks incessantly at Colin. His tickle-torture only lasts for a few seconds before he captures my mouth in a soul-searing kiss. It starts out as a sweet kiss and turns into a hunger for each other that is palpable.
His mouth leaves my lips, and he begins trailing delicate kisses along my jaw, over to my right ear, and down my neck following my pulse. When he reaches the sweet spot between my neck and my shoulder, he gives it a nip. A small cry escapes my lips, which further fuels him on. He stops just long enough to unbutton my aqua sleeveless blouse. As my top falls open, exposing my swollen breasts, he lets out a gasp. “What the fuck is in your bra?”
“Oh.” My cheeks blush. “Those are pictures of the baby.”
He reaches into my lingerie and extracts the small, folded sheet of pictures and holds it up, letting them unfold accordion-style. “What? Were these some sort of kinky surprise?” he asks with a smirk.
I begin defending myself, explaining how he came home too soon, and I panicked but he stops my rambling with a wet kiss. “I don’t care. Tell me about these.”
He repositions himself with his legs spread, and I scoot in between, pressing my back against his chest, nuzzling into his pale chest hair. His chin rests on my shoulder as I walk him through each image. He’s entranced with every shot. Asking questions. Pointing at details.
The last picture is the one with our due date. When he sees the date, there’s a brief pause, and then his body stiffens. “How far along are you?”
“Seven weeks, she thinks.” I lean back, hoping to read his eyes.
Before I can say anything, he shakes his head. “But you had a period. You drank in Cabo like a damn fish. You got so drunk that you’ve been hung over for days.” His chin resting on my shoulder tenses becoming painful as it digs into my collarbone.
I attempt to scoot away, but he grasps my hips securing me against him. “I did have a period, and I did drink. Doctor Starr says that we have a very healthy baby with a great heartbeat. There’s no need to worry. And as for my long hangover, it’s called morning sickness, baby. We’ve had a preview of what the next seven weeks will likely be for me.”
“But you got shitfaced, Charlie.” He leaves the statement dangling out there. There’s an accusatory undertone that bothers me more than I care to admit.
Finally, he releases my hips so I’m able to move out of his comforting triangle that now feels hostile, and turn around to look him in the eyes.
“I did get drunk,” I say, in the same voice that I use to pacify my mother when she’s lecturing me about something or other. “If I had an inkling that I was pregnant, I would not have let anything unhealthy touch my lips. What’s done is done, Colin. I can’t reverse time.” I silently add, But I sure wish that I could.
I pause and collect my thoughts to make sure that I say the next part exactly as I mean it. “Honey, I can’t spend the next seven months living with a neurotic crazy-man. You can’t control this pregnancy. The only thing that I need for you to do to help me through this is be supportive of my needs. Hey! I’ve already decided to give up coffee.” I drop my chin, raising my eyebrow. He knows how much I like my morning coffee. “That’s got to mean something, right?”
“If that means that I want pickles and ice cream at four a.m., I need for you to rush to the store and buy it. I need for you to go to my appointments, and watch this baby grow. What I don’t need is for you to micromanage my life. I might crave greasy, slimy pizza, and you just have to keep your mouth shut and let me eat it.” He grimaces at my food comments, but I watch his face as he processes what I’m saying.
Continuing, I take his hands into mine and run my thumb over his wedding ring. My voice is stronger, and more confident now. “I’m scared to death. My body is no longer mine. It’s been hijacked by Mother Nature. I’m growing another organ, for God’s sake. Mother Nature has now decided that this little tiny bean growing inside of me is more important than me.
“I need your support. I need for you to listen to my fears, and not freak out and try to fix them. I need you to hold me when I can’t sleep. I’ll need you to rub my swollen feet and shave my legs when my stomach will be too big for me to reach around it. I need your love. I don’t need your obsessive, controlling worrying. Got it?”
The internal war in Colin’s head is fascinating to observe. I watch fear at what I’m saying grey his face. I see wonderment at what my body can do fill his eyes. I see the idea of having to shave my
legs and rub my feet dance on his beautiful lips. Finally he confirms, “I can do that.” Then, without missing a beat, “So when can we tell everybody?”
“We have another appointment in four weeks. As long as everything is still on track, we can share our news with our family and friends.”
He face lights up like Christmas morning. “Can we tell them the same way that you told me? Can I show them my shoes compared to the baby’s?”
How could I tell him no when he’s this cute? “Of course we can.”
Colin gently pushes me back on the beige flooring, making quick work of removing my pants, and leans down to rest his head just above my pubic bone. I don’t have the heart to tell him that my uterus is not that high up yet. “Hi bean,” he says. “This is your daddy’s voice. Get used to hearing it, because I’m you and your mommy’s biggest fan. You be nice to her and quit making her feel bad. ‘Kay?”
I laugh at his silliness, and run my fingers through his wavy locks. He lifts his head and stares down at my panties as if he’s found a buried treasure. They’re removed, and tossed haphazardly over his left shoulder with the shirt he never put on. Before I can moan “Oh God,” Colin’s buried in the apex of my thighs.
Apparently, I can cross Being afraid to make love to me off of my worry list.
This feels so right. Perfect. Not just the wonderful attention that he’s paying to my body, but the whole energy surrounding us. He’s happy, which makes me fret less. He still finds my body appetizing. God, my thoughts, are interrupted when he slips one, two, hell, a whole hand’s worth of fingers inside me, finding that perfect place that makes me moan his name while he continues to suck and nip at me.
“Colin, that feels so good,” I encourage him begging for more. More of what? I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to find my release.
He reaches up with his free hand and gives my nipple a hard pinch. As if I’m Popeye and have just been handed a can of spinach, I become sex crazed and desperate for him. His tongue feels delicious against my clit and his fingers are magic, but I need rough. I need to feel him inside of me. I want him buried balls deep, and pounding my special place over and over again. I feel like it’s been days since we’ve made love instead of less than twenty-four hours. Even though what he is doing to my body feels great, it’s not the assurance hard lovemaking brings me. Instead of running my fingers through his hair, I’m grabbing it, and begging him for more.
“Please Colin,” I all but sob, “fuck me.” I sound pathetic to my own ears, but at least I can use pregnancy now as an excuse.
Before I register what he’s doing, I’m positioned on my hands and knees, and he begins feeding his penis into me inch by perfect inch. When he’s completely inside, I rock back against his hips, taking all of him. This is the closeness that I need. The connection. Our feeling of oneness. When we’re like this, I become unaware of where I stop and he begins.
He grabs my hips. “This how you want it?” He drives in harder, hitting my cervix, which makes me unable to answer him with a coherent word. Instead I just groan.
“God, you feel so perfect. So wet. So tight. Pregnant pussy is perfection.” He’s jackhammering into me.
No. No, I definitely don’t have to worry about him being careful with my pregnant body.
I almost laugh at his alliteration, but at the moment I’m too consumed with making sure that I’m properly fucked. I rotate my hips around his cock and pull forward, slamming back against him. “Oh God,” he yells out. “Like that, Charlie.”
The longer that I rock back and forth on his erection, the wilder I become. This level of intimacy becomes not enough. I pull off of him and turn around. I’m eye height with his long, thick, gorgeous penis, the same one that was inside of me when we created a new life together. Perfection!
I know what I need. I need him inside of my mouth. Craving this new level of intimacy, I need to taste the essence of my husband.
I tap his thigh indicating that I want him to lie down. He does, but wrinkles his brow in confusion. I kneel over him and bend down taking him into my mouth, and suck as if I’m starving. I cup his heavy balls in my other hand, feeling how warm they are. “Fuck, Charlie, what are you doing to me?” he growls.
I ignore him, taking him deeper down my throat than I ever have before. My cheeks hollow, and my throat swallows around him.
His moans spur me on, making me ache to have him filling me again, but I don’t dare quit. My power over him is hedonistic.
He reaches down and grabs my head, trying to make me stop as I feel his balls tighten up against his body. “No,” he says, in a voice that says he really doesn’t know if he means for me to actually quit.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t get me to remove him from my mouth. I want his come. I want to taste him. I want to swallow it. I’m starving for it. This is definitely the pregnancy hormones talking.
He grips my hair, tugging painfully, and says, “I’m going to come, Charlie.” His voice is so authoritative that it almost makes me pause for a second.
That’s what I want.
When the first spurt hits the back of my throat, I hollow out my cheeks even more, longing for every drop.
I only stop when he pleads through gritted teeth, and with graveled voice, “You’re hurting me baby,” he says as he taps my head.
I’m not sated yet. Standing up without looking back at him, I walk through our bathroom and into the bedroom. I open the bottom drawer of my nightstand and pull out my favorite toy. It’s my vibrator with a rabbit clit-stimulator. Yup! It’ll do, I decide.
Colin walks into the bedroom just as I’m turning on my toy and shoving it not so gingerly inside of me. “Care to help?” I ask as he stares at me like I’m an escaped psych-ward patient.
“What is wrong with you?” He’s in all his naked glory while his semi-firm penis flops against the inside of his toned thigh. He doesn’t say it like he’s concerned for my safety. Poor Colin is clearly confused as to what to do with me.
Ignoring him, I close my eyes, concentrating on how good the vibrations feel inside. This is what I need to find my release.
I guess Colin decides if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, because I feel him slip his large hand around the base of the BOB, replacing my grip. “Is this what you need, baby?” he asks with a concern-etched voice.
I moan as I let him take over pleasuring me. Opening my eyes, I check to make sure that he’s okay with this. Not that I particularly care at the moment, but I want to see his reaction to using toys on me.
I’m pleased that he seems to be getting into it. His lust-heavy eyes watch the toy sliding in and out of me. “God, Charlie. You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. Do you like this?” he asks while he changes the angle of the BOB. “Do you like it when I angle it forwards and then back?”
“Colin…” I moan. I’ve been a fan of sex toys since I discovered what an orgasm was in high school, but I’ve never had anyone else use them to pleasure me. It’s hot. Maybe beyond hot. There’s a new level of intimacy with Colin that I wasn’t expecting.
“How about if I squeeze your nipples like this?” He pinches my over-sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and my eyes roll back in my head.
The jolt of pleasure and pain travels to where the vibrator is working me into a frenzy, making me yell out something incoherent to my own ears.
“Keep doing that,” I plead. “Oh, God, please keep doing it just like that.” The orgasm that wracks through my body is so overwhelming that I might have temporarily lost consciousness. Holy hell! That felt amazing.
Colin slowly begins to turn down the vibrations on my toy until it’s off. When I feel him slide it out of me, I open my eyes for the first time since I came to look at my lover’s face. When he sees my irises, he shakes his head and smirks. “What has gotten into you, Charlie? I’ve never seen anything like that, except on a porno.”
I tartly reply, “Your baby.”
****
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br /> We’ve shared a near perfect evening of dining outside and swimming, until a night chill filled the air. Colin and I showered together, and made love against the cold slate wall. Later in the evening, as I was tucked in tightly against his chest and covered in our summer sheet and blanket, Colin sang to me “I Haven’t Even Heard You Cry” by Aaron Lines. The words couldn’t have been more perfect to mark our feelings. Pregnancy hormones got the best of me, though when he sang the line, And I’ll make mistakes there’s no doubt. But love’s one thing you won’t live without. ‘Cause you own a place in my heart now.
So true… So very true for both of us.
Colin’s been asleep for hours, but I’m too wound up to relax. Tomorrow, we leave for the ESPY Awards. It’s the one-year anniversary of the day we shocked the world by Colin grabbing my hand, pulling me to my feet, and escorting me out of the theater while the audience and host of the show watched us in stunned silence.
The media has been reminding everyone what we did. I swear, the clip has been played in a continuous loop, to the point that I haven’t turned on the TV in days. All eyes will be on us, and I’m pregnant with boobs so big that the dress barely contains them. I flip over, attempting to find a cool place on the sheets and clear my mind of the anxiety.
Colin has reminded me I don’t have to walk the red carpet with him. I didn’t last year. However, I feel like he needs my support. We need to show the world that despite the rumors, our relationship is solid. I also need to prove to Colin that I can be his partner in his career. No, I’m not going to hide in the control room like I did last year. I will walk the red carpet with my husband, proudly standing by his side as he answers the media’s asinine questions. And our baby will be there with us. Our little secret from the world. The thought makes me smile as I finally relax into my pillow.
Chapter Three
Colin