by ANGEL PAYNE
“Abbigail?” I called her name and then again at louder volume, but she didn’t respond.
I changed out of my suit, putting on some lounge pants and a T-shirt. The whole time, I told myself nothing was wrong. Abbi had simply gone downstairs for a snack or was out back in the casita with Dori. I chuckled to myself, knowing I’d look there first. Offering Dori that eye-popping raise was the best decision I’d made in a long time. The woman was rapidly becoming Abbi’s friend as much as assistant and had brought some much-needed laughter back to my girl’s face.
Which was why the sound of Abbigail’s tears had me stopping in place.
At first, I even dismissed it as an aberration of the wind or a strange-sounding bird. But as I came out of my walk-in closet, I heard it again. Louder now. A stab straight to my gut.
Because it was definitely weeping.
And it was absolutely coming from somewhere in this room.
Abbi’s closet?
“Abbi?” I called again. Still no reply. But when I listened closer, I heard sniffles. Her sniffles. I knew that as fact—deep in my belly.
Heeding that same inner instinct, I pushed at her closet door.
Sure enough, she was inside the grand enclosure. Curled up on the floor. Crying her eyes out.
“Baby?” I managed to croak, despite the panic surging me. “What’s wrong? Abbi, are you okay? Is it the baby?” I dropped to my knees in front of her and frantically scanned her from head to toe. It had been a few days since she’d thrown up, and we were both hopeful we were coming out of the worst of the hyperemesis gravidarum. “Did you throw up?” Though I could usually tell if she had with a glance at her pallor and posture. “Do you need to get to the toilet?”
“No. No, I’m fine. The baby’s fine.” She hiccupped and clutched my arms as I helped her stand. Her round belly looked so beautiful, naked beneath her open robe.
“So what’s wrong?” Continued panic pushed it out again, making me sound like a bull with a freight train up its ass. Couldn’t be helped. I was terrified, and this was my default. “Why are you crying? Abbi, please talk to me.”
Christ, these fluctuating hormonal mood swings were going to be the death of me. Although she’d always been a crier, the bouts had gotten worse with the pregnancy. She clung to me like polyester clothing charged with static electricity.
“Baby.” I pulled back, trying to see her face under the red curtain of her hair. I stroked the strands away from her tear-soaked cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I scooped her up with my arm beneath her knees, carried her out to our bed, and laid her down with her head on the pile of pillows.
“You have to tell me what you need, Red, so I can give it to you. We’ve been through this before.” Her green eyes finally showed some response. Thank God. My dominant tone usually did the trick on jarring her, no matter what sort of funk she’d worked herself into.
She tilted her head a little higher.
And with that look, gave me exactly what I’d asked for.
I knew what she wanted now, all right.
Even through the tears, her sexual need was thick and heavy and palpable. My libido responded at once. My heartrate doubled. My cock jerked in my thin pants. A low growl worked up and then out of my throat.
I climbed onto the bed with her. I didn’t waste time on tender foreplay. Right away, I straddled her hips but settled most of my weight back on my bent legs.
“What can I do for you, Abbigail?” A wide swath of creamy skin was exposed between the open halves of her robe, her round belly and lower half covered still. I ran my fingers across her chest and along her collarbones, from one shoulder to the other. Her breath caught in her throat. When she exhaled again, her crying transformed into a needy moan.
“Sssshhh, baby. We’ll get there.” I kept touching her. Needing the contact of my skin against hers. “But first, tell me why you were crying.”
“Oh, God,” she rasped. “Just…just touch me, Bas. More. Everywhere.”
“The truth first,” I said. “I don’t like finding you crying when I come home, my love. Did something happen with Dori?”
“No. No, I love her,” she insisted.
“Good. I’m glad.” I ran my fingers across her collarbones again, this time scratching my nails along her skin too. Abbi’s eyes fluttered closed. She tossed her face against the pillows.
“So good,” she mewled. “Oh, Bas. That’s so…good…”
“Look at me,” I dictated. As soon as she complied, I repeated, “Tell me, Red.”
She swallowed hard. “I…I wanted to…” She hiccupped again.
“Ssshhh. Settle down.”
“I…I wanted to wear something blue. Like you said.”
“Okay. But that’s not something to cry about. You’re stunning in blue.” I took a second to finger some of her long red curls, fanned like some fantasy goddess across the pillows. “Your hair looks beautiful with every shade of blue.”
“I…I like blue too,” she stammered back. “You know that. I have a lot of pretty pieces in blue. The color itself isn’t the issue.”
“Okay, baby. Then what?”
“I went to find something to wear for you. Something sexy and…and…”
“And what?”
“I tried on everything,” she explained. “And none of it fit. Nothing fits me anymore, Bas. Nothing.” Tears began welling in her eyes again.
“Oh, sweetie.” I leaned forward and kissed her swollen lips. I’d always loved when she cried because her mouth plumped and became even more kissable. The same was true now—except she didn’t let me continue with my adoration.
“How can you say that?” she sobbed as soon as she ripped away. “My body…this isn’t me. I’ve been taken over by another creature and—”
Well, that did it. Time for another kiss, one I didn’t mind throwing some deeper demand into. It was the right call, but I already knew that. The urgency in Abbi’s response grew with each touch of our mouths. She started rising up to meet me, clinging hard around my nape and skull. But I resisted the urge to simply fuck the silliness out of her. I pressed her shoulders back into the mattress, making her wait for what I gave her.
“Abbigail.” I ghosted my lips across her forehead and then her eyelids, cherishing the lingering salt from her tears. “You could wear a paper sack, and it would be more beautiful than the finest designer gown. If you want new lingerie, we can buy you things that fit—or not. Silk and satin don’t make you beautiful to me. They only enhance the gorgeous girl I already see. None of the jewelry or finery really matters to me, all right?”
Of course she popped her mouth open again to argue, but I started to have this drill down. I dipped in again, silencing her with a full, open-mouthed kiss. As soon as she opened for me, I stabbed my tongue in with deep demand, refusing to relent until she gripped my forearms, digging her nails into the exposed skin there.
When I released her, we were both panting. My chest was thundering. My dick was thumping so hard, I swore the thing had its own pulse point. While I was certain I’d have to repeat my speech to her post-coitus, physical needs—mine and hers—were becoming difficult to ignore.
“I need to fuck you so badly, woman. My cock needs to be inside you more than anything else right now.”
She sketched out a swift nod. “Yes. Oh God, Bas. Yesss.”
I stretched my body over hers. Nudged her legs apart with my knees so I could distribute my weight onto the bed and position my thighs between hers. I buried my face in her neck and kissed her smooth skin, licking and nibbling up and down the length of the slender column. Then I burrowed into that space with my nose and inhaled the delicious scent of her spicy arousal. Her chemistry had changed since she’d been carrying our son, but it spoke to me even louder now. All but shouted to me to claim her again and again until she screamed the walls down with my name on her lips.
Abbigail reached between us, and I leaned back to see what she was doing. She’d unt
ied the belt on her robe and now fully bared her body to me.
She was breathtaking. Mesmerizing.
A fucking miracle.
I couldn’t think of a better way to qualify what I gazed at, full of unblinking wonder. So many changes, all happening before my eyes. So much gratitude in my heart, threatening to stretch my own damn skin now.
I couldn’t help but reach out and cover the swell of her stomach with my large hand. He was still so small. I could spread my fingers over her tummy and protect him. If I used both hands, I could shield him completely. I mentally swore I would guard him every day for the rest of my life.
Both of them.
It was time to symbolize that in one of the best ways I knew.
I pushed away from her long enough to take my pants off and toss them aside. I stroked my erection while kneeling tall over her. Abbi’s fixed stare jacked my need even higher.
“Which position is most comfortable for you, Abs?”
“Your dick inside me.”
She punctuated that with a cheeky grin. Instead of working up an answering expression, I leaned down and took her nipple between my teeth without any sort of warning. My nip wasn’t hard, but I knew both her swells were agonizingly sensitive and the bite would be more intense than usual.
Her astonished keen was like music to my ears. Her lusty wriggles were like electric zaps to my limbs. And when she arched her back, she thrust her swollen breast against my face.
Abbigail yanked my face away from her chest by fistfuls of my hair, and I chuckled. “That smart mouth of yours gets you in trouble, Little Red.”
“Mmm, God, my nipples are so sensitive,” she said, reaching up to rub the one I’d bitten.
At once, I pushed her hand away. “Mine,” I grunted before licking the bruised tip.
“Oh, shit. Shit. That feels so good. Oh, Bas, that’s so good.”
“Yeah?” She’d never been able to come from nipple stimulation, but maybe today was a new day. The sensitivity was heightened from the pregnancy, and I’d read some women became so sensitive that they could…
Ohhh, yeah. Challenge accepted.
I went to work on her breast while fingering between her legs. Her moaning and squirming told me she was all over my new plan too. “Feel good, Abbi?”
“Sooo good.” She arched her back more, pushing her tit into my mouth.
“Can you come for me like a good girl?” I taunted.
“Yes! Don’t stop, Bas. It’s right there. Right there. Fuck, yes!”
She reached between her legs with desperation, but I smacked her hand away from her clit too. “Also mine,” I said and sucked exceptionally hard, dragging her entire areola into my mouth. Alarmingly, a drop or two of sweet fluid hit my tongue, and my eyes popped open. Too deep in the moment and already aware of what it was thanks to my obsession with pregnancy research, I continued stimulating Abbi. I circled her clit faster with my wet fingers and sucked on her nipple. Over and over, I repeated the treatment until she cried out, scrabbling her fingers into the bedding for some sort of grounding through her climax.
“Sebastian! Oh, my God.” She panted hard. “Jesus!” Her breathing was harsh, and her eyes squeezed shut as I kissed my way up her chest, neck, and then finally to her slightly parted lips.
With a twisted face, she asked, “What is that? That taste on you?”
“Future midnight snack for Junior, I do believe.” I grinned wider at the alarmed look that broadcast across her face then as she shot to her feet beside the bed.
“What?” she cried. “And you didn’t say anything? You didn’t stop?”
“Why would I?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you, I want to be a part of all of this. Now come back here and get on my dick.” I held up my straining cock for her to mount.
“Ride me, Little Red. Now.”
Playfully, she slumped her shoulders and let her head lull back, trudging to the bed like she was headed to the gallows. “Ugh. If I have to.” But she couldn’t hold the act and started giggling as she crawled onto the bed and straddled me. Her pussy was so wet from her own release; it only took a swipe or two through her folds, and I sank all the way into her lush body.
“Oh, sweet mother of God.” My eyes rolled back in my head. Her vise of a pussy gripped my shaft and made me see stars, even without any movement. With my hands splayed across her hips, I held her in place, planted my feet flat on the mattress, and fucked up into her. “Fuck, yes, baby. Your hot cunt feels so good on my cock.”
“It’s yours,” Abbi promised between her husky, heavy breaths. “Every inch of me, Sebastian. I’m all yours…”
I scooted back toward the headboard and then bent my legs, like a mountain. “Bring your feet up here,” I instructed, patting the areas next to my shoulders. “Now lean back on my thighs.”
She flashed a saucy grin. “My very own hunky lounge chair.”
I smirked in return. “Something like that.” I paused, hissing, as I secured her feet against the headboard, ensuring she had leverage for moving up and down if she wished. “Damn,” I gritted out. “Oh, fuck!” I was buried so deep inside her pussy, and it felt so blissfully good. So completely right. And sitting this way, there was no strain on her abdomen either.
We fucked that way for a few minutes before I got frustrated with not getting enough friction on my dick. Bending my legs back in a “W” allowed me to lie her down on the bed and pound my way home in the traditional missionary position. The orgasm that haunted me most of the day finally pulsed up my shaft and jetted from my tip in one epic jerk after another. Fucking hell. I felt like a little piece of me died and was reborn a better man, every time I came inside this woman.
My woman. My Abbigail.
I flopped off to her side and pulled her into my arms. “Damn, woman, I love you. Thank you for that.” I settled my breathing and fought the need to sleep, wanting to just bask in her glow a little longer.
“I love you, too,” she said and then interrupted herself with a yawn. Didn’t stop her from scoffing, “I can’t believe you tasted that and didn’t say anything.”
I frowned against her neck. “Why?”
“Mmmph.” She was already drifting off to sleep. “Animal.”
“I want every part of you.” I nuzzled into her hair. “Every part. For every day. Forever, Abbigail.”
“I like the sound of that, Mr. Shark,” she said dreamily.
“You got yourself a deal.” I kissed her forehead and then added, almost to myself as she drifted off entirely, “Mrs. Shark.”
I had never been more sure about something in my life. I needed to lock this woman down. Marry her. The sooner the better. I just needed to come up with an offer she couldn’t refuse.
Chapter Eleven
Abbigail
“Is that really my cousin?” With hands on either side of my stomach, Vela looked up at me in wonder.
“That’s really him.” I beamed as my baby boy fussed around beneath my ribs. “He’s strong, isn’t he?”
“Does that hurt you? Is he really kicking you right now? With his little legs? Maybe he wants to play soccer like I do!”
“Maybe.” I laughed. “It doesn’t really hurt, though. Sometimes it’s uncomfortable if he gets in the wrong place and does it. Or if I eat something he doesn’t like.”
Vela thought for a moment. But just one. “He tastes the food you eat? My mom said he doesn’t need to eat food while he’s in your belly. I’m so confused!” She put her little hands on either side of her head like it may explode from informational overload.
I laughed again. Vela had as many funny comments as she did questions. “He doesn’t eat the food, exactly. My body reacts to the food, and then he feels that, and that’s what seems to make him unhappy. Is that less confusing?” I looked to Sebastian, who was thumbing through a magazine, to assist with the explanation. He just put his hands up helplessly, like he had no idea what to say either.
Dori to the rescue. “Vela, have yo
u ever eaten too much ice cream? Or something else that makes your belly hurt?”
The little girl nodded vigorously. “One time, I ate twenty-three chocolate chip cookies my mom baked for a work Christmas party. I couldn’t help it! They were so yummy right when they came out of the oven!”
I laughed. Couldn’t be helped. This beautiful little human was so animated with every story she told.
Dori was equally cute when she matched her excitement to the child’s. “I know what you mean!” she exclaimed and clutched her stomach dramatically. “But then you feel really, really bad later on.” She grimaced, and Vela did the same.
“Oh, it was the worst. I had the worst stomachache that night. I thought I would never eat another chocolate chip cookie for the rest of my life!” She playfully fell over to the side and rolled on the floor.
But Dori continued with her lesson. “So, if Abbi did that, the baby would really move around a lot, because Abbi’s belly would already be hurting in the same way. It would make the baby unhappy.”
“Oooohhh. Yeah, that makes sense. Because he has to live in there.” She twisted her face up, thinking of the turmoil in an upset stomach. She came back over to where I was stretched out on the sofa. “Aunt Abbi, I don’t think you should have chocolate chip cookies until my cousin comes out of your belly. I’m really sorry about that.” She patted my hand and then skipped out of the room, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to play on the computer until my mom gets here.”
“Okay, Star,” Bas called back, chuckling at the scene that had just played out.
“What a character,” I said.
“She’s absolutely precious. Do you need anything? Either of you?” Dori asked.
“All good here,” I said, rubbing my itchy stomach.
“No, thank you, Dori,” Bas answered.
“Have you used the shea butter today?” She motioned to where I was still scratching.
“No, I’ll do it when we go up to bed. I don’t want to get up.” I frowned at the thought of going all the way upstairs.