by Jaci J
“Yes.”
He chuckles. “You honestly think I’d fuck that bitch? Fuck her with my pregnant fiancé a few feet away?”
No. “But I’m not feeling great about the way I look right now with all these pretty woman around,” I tell him, looking up and down at myself.
He growls, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house.
Cruz
“I hope to fuck you’re not talkin’ shit about this body,” I scold her, pulling her dress up and over her head, exposing her body to me.
I let my eyes feast on every fucking perfect inch of her.
She’s naked, aside from a minuscule pair of pink panties.
“Cruz,” she whimpers, head back flat against the wall. “I’m just not into this.” She waves her hand along her body.
My body.
My baby inside of her.
Her tits have gotten bigger, more than a fucking handful. Her hips are a little rounder, her ass a little plumper. And she has a belly, but she’s fucking sexy.
That body is because of me, and that shit makes me want to pound my motherfucking chest like a goddamn animal. I got her pregnant. I did that shit.
“Angel,” I growl, cupping her tits in my hands. I give them a squeeze and she jerks. They’re sensitive, more so than ever before. I fucking love it. “Don’t say shit about this body,” I demand, pinching both nipples, rolling them between my fingers.
“It’s my body,” she counters, smirking.
“Is it?” I challenge, giving her a hard look.
She belongs to me, every fucking inch of her, and if she doesn’t know it by now, then I’ll fucking show her.
In the laundry room, right by the back door, I lift her ass up and set her on the dryer, pushing her legs apart and getting between them.
Hands on the soft skin of her thighs, I tease her, dragging my fingers up the inside of her thigh toward the edge of her pink panties, and back down toward her knee.
“We’re having a barbeque.”
“I don’t give a fuck what’s goin’ on. My girl needs a reminder of just how much I want her fine as fuck body.”
“Cruz,” she protests, squeezing her legs around my waist, trying to keep me out.
“Don’t do that shit, Angel.”
She cocks her head. “What?” She’s playing stupid, because she knows what.
“Keep me away from this body.”
It’s been months since the attack and Mia has gone through a lot. Physically and emotionally. For a while, she didn’t leave the house, and for a time after that, she’d flinch at every noise, but never, not once in that time did she push me away. She kept me close, so goddamn close I’d have to be touching her most of the time for the first few weeks.
She’s always needed me, wanted me.
She may pretend like she doesn’t want me between her legs right now, but it’s a bunch of bullshit. She wants me, wants my hands on her. I want my hands on her.
She’s just playing her little game with me.
“I’m just not feeling very sexy right now.”
“No?”
She bites her lip, chewing on it.
“Well that’s too fucking bad, because you sitting here in only your panties on the dryer is pretty fuckin’ sexy.”
She gives me a dubious, unbelieving look.
I know she’s feeling insecure about her body, and I’ll never understand it, but it’s my job to prove that insecurity wrong.
If she doesn’t believe me, then I’ll just have to prove her wrong.
Hooking my fingers in the waist of her panties, I tell her to lift up, and she does, without argument, her eyes closed.
Squatting down between her knees, I bury my face in her pussy, making her squeal. “Shit, Cruz!”
I love the way her pussy tastes.
Licking up her center, I try real fucking hard not to lose my cool. This shit isn’t for me, it’s for her.
“What do you want?” I ask, my face in her cunt.
“Cruz,” she moans.
“Tell me, baby,” I bark, biting her thigh.
Fingers buried in my hair, she pulls my face closer. “I want your tongue in me.”
“In here?” I dip my tongue deep into her cunt, teasing her entrance with my mouth.
Shivering, she nods.
“What else?” I growl, my voice vibrating against her wet skin.
She’s getting brave, wrapping her legs around my head, her own head falling back against the small window behind her. “Suck on my clit.”
Fucking done.
I do what she asks, sucking on her hard, making her heels dig into my back.
“What next?”
She grinds against my mouth, moaning, “Put your fingers in me.”
And I do.
Sucking on her clit, I finger fuck her until she’s coming in my mouth, moaning out my name.
I let her come down before I get up, kissing her mouth. “You don’t feel bad about your body?”
She nods, eyes heavy.
“You need another reminder, ask your man, yeah?”
She sighs. “Yeah.”
I help her off the dryer and slip her dress over her head. Halfway to the door, she stops me. “Cruz?”
“Yeah, Angel?”
“Thank you.”
“Always, baby.”
Not a goddamn thing on this Earth I wouldn’t do for her.
Mia
It’s taken me a few months, some therapy, a massive security system, and a lot of reassurance from Cruz, but I’m finally starting to feel better, feel more like myself. The bruises healed and my body recovered quickly. It was my mind that took a while.
I knew I’d get better. I’m a strong, tough girl, but it took time.
I had Cruz, and that’s all I really needed.
It took about twenty-four hours after I got home to be hit with crippling fear. It hit hard, but I hit back.
For a few weeks, I had a hard time sleeping, and I didn’t want to be alone at all, not even alone in a room. I was always looking behind my back and having a hard time just being. Once I overcame that, I could be alone in the house, but Cruz couldn’t leave the property. I could shower, closing my eyes to rinse my hair and not worry that I was being watched. I could sit outside and I could answer my phone.
I was a mess, overall screwed up, but I toughed up. I got better.
I don’t think it was just the last attack that sent me spiraling. I think it was both, the one that brought me Cruz and the last one that snowballed.
But I’m good now, and getting better every day.
I keep myself busy with all baby stuff—doctor’s appointments, cribs, diapers, clothes, birthing classes. All of it has been a very helpful distraction.
Eight months pregnant, and I’m just enjoying being waited on by my man and how great my tits look in everything, even when I’m not so sure about my body. Any doubts I have, Cruz erases them with one look.
“Angel,” Cruz growls, a look of agony on his ruggedly handsome face.
Standing in front a mirror, in nothing but a matching lace bra and panties, I look down at myself, at what Cruz is staring at, and smile to myself.
My belly is round and big, a few faint stretch marks up my sides, and a set of large, really perky tits. I look good. Cruz makes me feel like I look good.
The way he looks at me, like I’m his last meal and he’s starving. Like I’m the best goddamn thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Like I’m perfect. It goes to my head.
“You like it?” I ask, waving a hand at the tiny little set I picked up after teaching a dance class, something I haven’t fully been able to get back into yet.
I bought it just for him.
“I was gonna take you out, but ...” He trails off, walking up behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist, his hand on my belly.
The way he touches me, so reverently, makes me swoon.
“But you’d rather eat me?” I offer, laughing softly. I know him too well.
Cruz looks good enough to eat too. Wearing nothing but a pair of dark denim, he’s devilishly sexy. Shirtless and barefoot, his tattoos on full display.
Turning me around, he kisses me, his fingers gripping my jaw. “Good enough to devour.”
I shiver, his words giving me goose bumps. “Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“To the fucking bed.”
The baby chooses that exact moment, the moment the words leave Cruz’s mouth, to move, making me wince. “Ouch,” I hiss.
“What’s wrong?”
Gone is sexy Cruz, and in his place is overprotective Cruz.
“The baby just kicked me.”
But I’m not sure that’s just it.
This isn’t the first time today.
The pain comes again, but this time in my lower stomach. My muscles tighten.
A hiss of breath leaves me. “Shit.”
Something that looks a lot like panic splashes across Cruz’s face, his hands instantly cupping my belly. “What? What the hell’s goin’ on, Mia?”
“Braxton Hicks,” I assure him, even though I’m not so sure myself.
Another shooting pain hits me, traveling around my waist and hitting me in the middle of my lower back. A burning, tight pain.
Cruz doesn’t like it.
I don’t like it.
“Let’s go the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, batting away his hands and heading toward the closet. I want a nice night out with my man. I want to slip on my pretty flowy dress and put on some make-up. I want to not be doubled over in pain. “Fuck,” I groan, stopping mid-sentence to catch my breath.
“Fuck no. Sit down.”
Cruz walks me to the bedroom and sets me on the bed. “I’m getting you some clothes are we’re going to the hospital.”
“No.”
“No?” Cruz laughs. It’s humorless, and a little crazy. “You’re fucking pregnant and in pain. We’re going to the fucking hospital.”
“I’m only thirty-five weeks,” I tell him, watching him dig through the dresser and pull out a pair of cloth shorts.
Crouching down, he grabs a leg and starts to dress me. “We’re going.”
I don’t argue when I’m hit with another contraction, this one stronger. “Jesus. If this is labor then I don’t wanna do it.”
“Too fucking bad, Angel. I want my baby, and I want about twelve more,” Cruz grunts, getting up and slipping my T-shirt over my head.
“One and done,” I tell him, getting up, but quickly crouching down in pain.
Cruz looks at me down on the floor, my hands on my knees, and my heels pressed to my ass. “What the fuck you doin?”
I don’t know. “It felt right. I’m in pain,” I snap, scowling at him.
Suddenly I’m hit with the realization that I’m going into labor. I will be having this baby, and it’s Cruz’s fault. “This is your fault,” I tell him, giving him the angry finger. “You just had to come inside of me,” I growl, getting up, a cold sweat breaking out down my spine. “No, you couldn’t pull out.”
Cruz cocks his head, a smile on his lips. “Angel,” he pleads, suppressing a laugh. “Calm down.”
“You fucking calm down.” I’m spiraling, losing my control and sanity. “I’m about to push a human out of my vagina, the vagina you claim is so tight. Well get ready to never have that tight pussy again,” I moan, hanging onto the doorframe when another wave of pain hits me, following Cruz out the door.
I know it’s the pain talking and maybe the fear, but I can’t stop.
“Your pussy will be fine.”
“Ha! You won’t be saying that when my knees are up at my ears and your baby’s coming out of me.”
Cruz sets me down at the island, putting my shoes on, all while I rant like a stark-raving lunatic.
“Baby,” he says softly, taking my hand, leading me to the car. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“No I won’t.”
Cruz opens the car door for me. “Yes, you will. I’m here.”
“Damn right you’re here, and you’re never fucking leaving. This is your fault, and now you’re stuck with me for fucking life.”
“Goddamn right. This is it, Angel. You and me.” He liked that one because he smiles, big and happy. I fucking melt. I love his handsome face. I love everything about the man, and I’m about to have his fucking baby.
Cruz
I’m having some goddamn flashbacks from a few months ago. This fucking hospital. How we met. Where Mia was after she was attacked. It’s a love-fucking-hate kinda feeling about this place. But this time, we’re here for a whole other reason. A good reason.
Mia’s in pain and I don’t like it, but we’re here for the baby.
My baby.
I’m about to be a dad.
Jesus.
Mia’s pacing and panting, and I wish like hell I could take her fucking pain away.
Wearing nothing but little cloth shorts and a sports bra, she’s hot, and I mean she’s having hot flashes. There’s a blue thing strapped around her stomach, monitoring the baby’s heart rate. It keeps beeping, losing the baby’s heartbeat because she won’t get the fuck back in bed.
I’ve told her more than once, but she won’t listen to me. Hell, she won’t hear reason, blaming me and my super sperm for her pain. I’ve stopped trying at this point.
“No.”
“Baby.”
I’m a goddamn mess. It’s hard watching her suffer when there isn’t a thing I can do to take it away, but the doctor told her this is a process.
Mia shoots me a nasty look. “Fuck you,” she groans, hands on her lower back. “Walking helps me.”
I don’t know what to do, and that is something I really don’t fucking like.
“Mia,” I groan, feeling her pain when she bends over, her hands on the bed as she pants and growls through another contraction.
She’s dilated, and I had no clue what that meant until the doctor explained it to me. We’ve got four centimeters more to go.
“Jesus,” she grunts, standing back up.
I want to touch her, but the last time I did, I damn near lost a hand.
A nurse comes into the room, smiling. “How are we doing?” she asks, going to the machine Mia’s hooked up to and looking at the screen. “Things are moving along nicely. The doctor will be in to check your progress in about thirty minutes.”
And I’ve learned thirty minutes in hospital talk is whenever the fucking asshole doctor decides to bring his ass in here.
“Anything I can get you?” she inquires, putting her hand on Mia’s shoulder.
The nurse can touch her but I can’t.
“Ice.”
The nurse nods. “Okay. You’re doing a great job, honey. Just keep moving and breathing.”
I watch Mia move, rocking back and forth. Watch her labor. Watch her go through this pain, and I couldn’t be more fucking in love with her. She’s doing this shit for me, for our baby. She’s a goddamn warrior.
“Cruz,” she whispers, leaning against the edge of the bed again, her head in her hands.
I never moved so fast in my life. “What, Angel?”
“I’m sorry.”
Jesus, she’s crying. “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”
“I’m being an asshole.”
I want to laugh. She is, but... “It’s because you’re in pain.”
“Still.”
“You could hit me and I wouldn’t be mad. Baby, do what you gotta do to get through it,” I tell her, rubbing her back. It’s the first time she’s let me touch her since I put her in the car to get her here.
“I love you,” she says softly, laying her cheek on her hand to look at me.
And I know she does, because twenty minutes later, her water broke and the pain got worse, but she stuck with it, breathing through the pain.
Mia’s on the bed, the doctor checking her out, and I’m a nervous wreck. But she’s been so goddamn calm through this whole thi
ng. She’s been steady—mad, but steady.
“Well, we’re at a ten,” the doctor announces, excited.
I feel fucking sick.
Mia nods. “I feel like I need to push.”
And push she does. For two fucking hours.
She puts her heart and soul into bringing my baby into this world and it pays off, because before I have a chance to come to terms with the hectic chaos, my baby is being brought into the world.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor tells me, and I just look at Mia. She’s crying, holding my baby against her bare chest.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.
I just fall in love all over again.
epilogue
Mia
“Slide down,” Cruz growls, hands on my thighs, tugging me down to the edge of the bed. His fingers rub circles on my skin, causing goose bumps to break out everywhere.
Sitting up, my legs hanging off the bed and Cruz standing between them, I reach out and grab his hard cock through his jeans, making him jerk. “Shit,” he hisses.
“Shh.”
It’s been two years, and I still can’t control myself around Cruz.
He makes me wild.
He makes me wet.
“She can’t hear us.”
Quirking a brow, I look at him, up his cut stomach and chest, and ask, “She can’t hear us? I woke her up last night.”
“I put earmuffs on her.”
“You didn’t.”
He smirks down at me. “You wanna put your panties back on and go in there and see?”
I frown, giving him a hard stare. “You’re an asshole. You know I don’t want to put my panties back on.”
“True, but we’re not having a repeat of last night.”
Oh, but we are.
I hear little footsteps running down the hall.
“You planned this,” he accuses, handing me his shirt to cover myself with as he turns, just in time to catch his girl.
“Daddy, I heared sometin’.”
“That was the sounds of your mommy about to get some,” he tells her, scooping her up.
“Can I hab some?” I can’t hold in my laughter.