by Flint, Ember
I cradle Jane in my arms and look up into my wife’s loving gaze.
Damn, she’s practically glowing, she’s fucking beautiful and I love her so much it hurts.
She’s currently driving me to the edge of insanity wearing a too small hot pink bikini top that barely covers her ample breasts and unbuttoned dark denim shorts that hang low on her hips, proudly showing off her curves and the big baby bump.
We don’t know what we are having this time: we decided it would be nice for it to be a surprise.
I slide one arm around her, until she’s sitting over me, straddling my legs and caress her belly.
I fucking love seeing her pregnant and that’s maybe part of the reason why we can’t seem to be able to stop making babies.
I’m still as enchanted with my little sexy bombshell as ever.
I feel something tug at my heart every time my eyes fall on her. I still can’t believe she’s mine. She’s an amazing woman all-around and makes our lives wonderful every day. She’s an incredible mother and takes care of our little girls practically every day and yet she still managed to get her degrees and is doing a terrific job at the Harlington-Spade foundation, especially now that Lucille —my mother-in-law— decided to step down as VP to be a full-time grandmother.
Cora lays her head on my shoulder, our baby daughter cuddled between us. She lets go of a weary sigh, but still has a gentle smile on her full, pouty lips.
“Your daughter is driving me insane today. Maybe the heat is making her cranky...”
I nod, rubbing her belly. “She’s due for a nap soon also.”
My wife kisses my jaw. “That too.”
I trace a circle on her bump, feeling my baby instantly kick my palm. "How's this little one behaving, dearest?”
“He’s very active, maybe he likes the sun?” she grins.
She’s sure this one’s going to be a boy.
I smile and kiss her sweet lips. “He? You’re still convinced then?”
She giggles. “He kicks so much, he’s got to be a little soccer player.”
I shrug. “You might be wrong and she could be a little ballerina doing summersaults instead. I wouldn’t mind having another little princess, love.”
“And what would The Terrible Duo say? No heir for the Fitzroy fortune? Capital offense! It could not be born!” she grins, lovingly stroking my jaw.
I chuckle, kissing the corner of her mouth, baby Jane watching our exchange curiously, a little toothless happy smile on her chubby face, green eyes just like my own staring at us.
“And it shall not, my little bombshell! I plan to keep you pregnant until you give me that boy. We wouldn’t want for the future evil spawn of The Pest to carry on the family name!”
For a while we lie there, watching our friends and the children play in the pool.
Charles is holding little Lacy, while Aston gives a piggyback ride to my daughter, then I pat my wife’s deliciously rounded bottom and make her stand, Jane’s little arms around my neck.
"Come on, lazy. Let’s cool that baby down, before you boil it in this ghastly heat.”
She shakes her head, laughing. “Don’t pretend to be all stiff-upper-lipped Brit on me: I know how much you’re enjoying this sun, no way you can persuade me you miss the snow or the fog!”
I smirk at her, leaning down to nibble on the shell of her ear. “There’s just one think I’m missing right now, little bombshell, and I’m going to have a deep, long, taste as soon as we put the children down for their nap.”
I feel my wife’s hand covertly reach between us and give my crotch a decided squeeze that I feel crawling up my spine.
“Now, that I can believe, love,” she whispers sultrily, giving me a pointed, little smile.
Before I can retaliate, she carefully lowers herself into the pool and I soon follow, diving into the water, holding my little girl protectively against my chest.
I reach my wife and wrap an arm around her, pulling her to me and we exchange a kiss full of heat and promises, while our baby daughter squeals happily between us, her little legs and arms slapping the surface noisily, splashing water all over us.
I’m so bloody fucking happy there are no words to describe it and in three months I’ll be meeting my new child and our happiness will reach new heights.
I fucking love our lives.
They are messy, busy, super-fast, but there’s nothing we do that is not filled to the brim with heart and I love it all.
Epilogue 2
CORA
Another two and a half years later…
I come out of the en-suite bathroom tugging my little, flimsy robe closed over my body and I tiptoe in the large bedroom, careful not to wake my husband.
I see he’s still sprawled face down, head under the pillow; his huge, naked, muscular body tangled in the sheets.
We just got back from a longer-than-usual stay in London and aside from being horribly jet lag, my poor love is utterly exhausted.
Normally, we don’t spend more than a couple of weeks at a time in England, not because we don’t like it there —I actually love London— but because things with his family have not changed much over the years.
The Terrible Duo still have their panties in a bunch because even if they do like me, they can’t bring themselves to tolerate that I’m an American.
They listened to our children speak with their New York’s diction and kept shaking their heads.
I practically had to hold my husband back from strangling both of them and unfortunately the only available distraction was Nigel who, as usual, had been caught into another one of his ridiculous scandals —which of course could hardly make my hubby calmer— and all the while there was Lydia, who could only stop complaining about anything and everything just long enough to drink yet another glass of her never-ending supply of sherry, and her husband, who looked on placidly from behind his rose-colored glasses as the Fitzroys’ unique blend of crazy unfolded around us.
However, I have to admit that maybe we did turn a corner with Nigel in the last few days, at least a little bit. We’ll see if it’s a fluke or if it sticks.
Anyway the whole stay was super-stressful in the end and on top of that we arrived here in New York in the middle of the worst heatwave ever: July is always hot here, but this year even the walls are freaking melting.
We felt practically whiplashed leaving an unseasonably cool summer behind in UK.
Mara, our oldest at almost four years and a half, handled the change in temperature just fine and so did our middle daughter, but their almost two-year-and-a-half-old, little brother, Conrad was not so lucky and was running a high temperature for the first twenty-four hours after we got back, thank God today when we woke up he was in tip-top shape again.
By the second day after a flight usually the worst of Sterling’s jet lag is over, but the heat made his migraine linger longer this time.
Knowing how stressed out Sterling was feeling and how dreadfully jet-lagged an overseas flight can get him, this morning my brother, Jess, Aston and Lara surprised us by sending us off to enjoy a day at a spa, offering to mind our rambunctious kids for us, not an easy task when in total amongst us we have seven children —soon to become nine as Lara is pregnant with twin boys.
We totally needed a little bit of time just for us and even though nothing could really ease my husband’s jet lag, at least we got to relax a little enjoying side to side massages, a long soak in the bubbling water of a big Jacuzzi and some uninterrupted —and much needed— alone time.
I sit on the edge of the bed, caressing Sterling’s nape and he groans softly.
I pick up my phone and see we have at least another three hours before dinner time when we will have to leave this resort for Aston and Lara’s mansion where our children are currently staying with their cousins.
I send a text to my sister-in-law to ask after them.
I know Conrad was more than fine by the time we
left him and his sisters this morning, but I can’t help but feel a little apprehensive anyway: I know he’s safe with his aunts and uncles, but he’s my little baby and only concern over my husband could have persuaded me to leave him behind.
As I recline against the headboard, my cell vibrates with Jess’s answer.
Jess: “The kids R fine, Cora. Don’t worry. Charlie and Ast R having a blast playing laser-tag with all of them.”
Me: “Has Conrad eaten something?”
Jess: Duh, that little boy has his father’s appetite: he out-ate both his uncles at lunch.”
“LOL. What R U girls doing? Is Lara feeling okay?”
Aston and his wife have been traveling as much as we have lately, plus this twin-pregnancy is really testing them.
Jess: “She’s feeling much better. No more nausea. We R starting to put dinner together. We R making some of Sterling’s favorites to help soothe his bad mood.”
I giggle. They know my hubby well.
Me: “Thanks. U R the best. His family was a nightmare for the last three weeks.”
Jess: “And then there’s the jet lag…”
Me: “I’m wearing Lara’s piece… ;)”
Jess: “Oh! That will definitely help ‘cure’ him then! Have fun!”
Me: “Thanx, hon. See U guys later.”
I look down at myself and let the little silky, see-through robe fall open.
Lara is a genius when it comes to intimate wear: she designed this negligee and matching lingerie set just for me to help Ster with his jet-lag-induced usual grumpiness.
The whole ensemble is emerald green, boy-shorts and a half-bustier in soft lace and translucent silk that wraps comfortably around my curves but still makes me feel super-hot —of course with no underwire anywhere in sight: Sterling still can’t stand to see me suffering in it.
I’m not entirely sure I can really take away all the lingering effects of his airsickness and jet lag by wearing something sexy for him, but I’m sure this will brighten his day considerably at least.
I drop my phone on the nightstand and crawl my way over to him still spreadeagled in the middle of the bed and taking almost all the available space with his long, massive body.
I tug the sheets away from his lower back and legs, until I can see his taut ass, advantageously displayed in a pair of dark silk boxers and I lean over him to kiss along his shoulders and one side of his neck.
“Bombshell…” he mumbles contentedly in his pillow, making me smile.
I giggle, tickling his sides until he flips over and lies on his back, flinging one arm over his handsome face with a disgruntled groan.
I straddle his hips and lower gingerly on his lap. I don’t want for him to wake yet.
I stroke circles into his bulky chest, my fingernails tangling in the short, wiry hair sprinkling his pecs and running in a line down his flat stomach and I smile down at him.
I slide one finger along his treasure trail and I immediately get a reaction from him, even in his sleep: his stomach contracts and the bulge at his crotch tightens and hardens behind the fabric of his boxers.
One of my hands travels over his neck and gently sifts through his sandy brown hair, currently disheveled and in slight need of a trim. A few strands of grey now grace his temples, glinting amongst the darker little locks.
Sterling jokes it’s mine and the children’s fault they are in there in the first place, but I personally like them: they lend him an air of distinction, of refined maturity that if possible has made him even more impossibly hot than he already was.
I have to beat women off of him with a stick, not that he would notice any of them: wherever we are and whoever we are with, I can always feel his eyes on me and only me.
I caress his strong jaw, as always soft and clean-shaven and then his brow even in his sleep still furrowed because of his migraine and as usual I feel the familiar pull pushing my heart against his.
God, I love him so much there are no words really and I’m still just as in love with him as I was the first time we kissed five years ago in that elevator.
At the age of forty my husband has firmly moved from the category of gorgeous to absolutely breathtaking.
I adore him just as much as I know he adores me and I feel cherished in his love and in this knowledge.
I want him to wake up in pleasure so I scoot down his body, slowly rolling his boxers down his hips and I bend closer to him, leaning on my elbows.
I move my unruly curls away from my face and bend my head until my lips graze the silken skin already stretching over his steely length and I feel it give a powerful jerk as Sterling exhales in his sleep; my name leaving his mouth.
I look up at him and then again down at his still-hardening cock.
I breathe against the crown, blowing gently on the heated skin and the entire length jolts completely upright. I lick up and down, grasping the base in one hand, while my other plays in the tight curls nesting at the top, my tongue tracing the big vein pulsing on the underside and Sterling grunts awake, his entire body going rigid for a second and then sinking back into the mattress.
“Cora, love,” he gasps and I feel one of his hands slide on the back of my head and tangle in my hair.
Keeping my mouth at his crown, I drag my fingernail down the length until I reach his balls and give them a firm squeeze, eliciting yet another groan from my now fully awake husband.
I circle the head more closely with my lips, dipping my tongue in the little slit at the top and I can feel a powerful rush go through his body as he moans my name.
“Oh fuck, love, yes!”
I increase the suction, hollowing my cheeks and at the same time start to rub up and down his length, sinking my lips further down on his cock, but Sterling doesn’t allow me to play long and before I know what hit me, our positions are reversed and I’m on my back, my thighs spread on either side of his waist, my silky boyshorts are in tatters on the floor and my husband is driving his erection deep inside me, thrusting vigorously; his teeth nipping at the skin of my neck, making my body tingle all-over, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he slickly pounds into me, my pussy going from damp to dripping under his assault as our panting and moaning fills the room, echoing off the walls.
“Shit, you’re so lush, so snug, my love… you stop my fucking heart,” Sterling grunts, clutching me even closer to him, one of his hands kneading my ass, while the other clasps my thigh furiously as he surges into me, his cock reaching my sweetest spot and making me quiver and contract in pleasure around him already.
We are so perfectly attuned that as I start to go off, so does he and I feel his seed spurt into me in fast, hot jets against my walls, the sensation prolonging the aftershocks of my own climax.
Sterling remains tense over me as he tries to keep his weight off of me by supporting himself on his elbows, but I won’t have this: I love feeling his much bigger frame blanketing my own and almost cutting my breath.
“Come here, love,” I whisper, pulling him completely on top of me and I smile as I feel him finally relax.
After a while as we still lay there in each other’s arms, recovering from the fast and intense fuck, I start to laugh.
Sterling moves back to look at me. “What’s up?”
I shake my head, still giggling. “Nothing, I was just thinking I spent forty minutes in that bathroom making myself pretty for you and wearing this sexy lingerie and you didn’t even notice it and already ruined it. What I will say to Lara?”
Sterling looks down at my body.
“That’s a very pretty color on you, dearest, and I did notice, only with your mouth on my cock I really didn’t feel like chit-chatting about it. You can tell Lara you did manage to make my migraine disappear.”
He rolls us over until we’re both laying on our sides, still embraced and I grin up at him. “Did I?”
He kisses my nose, combing my wild curls away from my face. “You surely did, my
love. Of course it had very little to do with what you are wearing and entirely too much to do with how much you can drive me insane with a single kiss or touch, but there’s no need for Lara to know: we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would we?”
I giggle, letting my lips flit over his still-thudding heart as he nestles me more closely to his side, one arm sneaking around my waist, hand splayed on my ass.
“You really feel better, Sterling?”
He nods. “You’re the best painkiller in the whole wide world, bombshell, you know that…”
“Did I tell you that I’m very proud of how you dealt with your crazy family without murdering anyone?”
He shrugs, affecting a haughty look. “You might have mention that, yes…”
I giggle, hugging him even more closely as always falling under the spell of his enchanting eyes.
I kiss his chin and look up at him. “Did I tell you today that you’re the most wonderful, amazing, caring, loving husband and perfect daddy a woman and her children could ask for?”
He nods, smirking down at me. “And I’m handsome too and a masterful lover to boot!”
I kiss his lips softly. “And you’re handsome too and an incredibly masterful lover, yes!” I repeat, laughing at his antics.
Sterling looks at me seriously, a frown on his face. “I haven’t been very vocal in expressing my love for you these past few days.”
I shake my head, giving an airless, little laugh. “You haven’t been very vocal at all, Sterling. You never are after you step down from a plane, unless we can count grunting and groaning as words, let alone expressions of love,” I tease.
He traces my lips with his finger, one eyebrow arched. “Of course you can count them as such, love, you should know better!”
We both laugh.
After a little bit, I feel Sterling’s lips in my hair. “You know those things you said I am, love?”
I look up at him, raising my head from his shoulder. “Hmm?”