“Papa loves you, sweet Morò.” Moving further up, my tongue loves each of her nipples and she whines and writhes under me, spurring me on, trying to force me to pound myself in and out of her, giving her the release she needs multiple times a day. Greedy, pregnant pussy. “I know baby. I know. I just want to love you right now,” I whisper before sliding into her, while our mouths mate in a slow dance. Making love to her like this, always makes me cum faster because my dick, heart, emotions, and mind work in tandem to think of nothing but her and all she has given me. Don’t misunderstand me, I love to rut her fertile ass and exert my control and inability to control myself. But those times are for Daddy. I will always make sure she gets off and feels loved, but the ‘fuck’ is for me. The love is for her. “I love you so much, baby. Thank you,” I say before my hips continue to grind against her clit, her keening octave getting louder as she closes in on the precipice. I feel the lightning forming in my balls and I know I am about to go with her. “It’s ok, my love. Come with me.” Our lips find one another and we fall off this beautiful waterfall together, clinging to one another like a life raft. Little does she know; she is my life vest. Without her, I drown. She kisses me one last time before she lays on her side with her head on my chest.
“I love you too, Stefano.” Fucking sap. I am damn sap. When she tells me she loves me and calls me the name of the man who took her, she is letting me know she would love me no matter what and that fucking alters me. Every time. Kissing her forehead, we both fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.EpilogueKaleraTwo Months LaterI look over at my husband and giggle behind my hand at his grumpy face. It is my baby shower and even though I told him to go out with the guys, he refused to leave, spouting some nonsense about being here in case something happened. Silly man. Well since he wouldn’t listen to me, this is what he gets. He hates where our home is invaded with ‘intruders’ as he calls them. I shake my head. He keeps looking at his watch and tapping his foot. “I am glad to know Preston is not the only one who hates to have my attention elsewhere,” my sister Tori says.
“The further along I get, the worse he gets,” I say laughing.
“Sweetie, do you want me to take some of this?” I look up and smile at my mom and nod my head.
“Yes, mama. Thank you.” She smiles and grabs some of the garbage. I look over and see my dad and Stefano deep in conversation and I can’t help but wonder what they are discussing. It doesn’t matter, to be honest. I am just happy my parents came around. Tori and I tried for months to reach out to them to no avail. Then one day, about my sixth month, as I sat in the baby’s room crying, sobbing about how I always thought I would have my mom here to help me with this and join in my happiness, he stomped out of the house grumbling something under his breath about killing anyone who makes me cry. Hours later, he returned but did not say where he went. He simply scooped me up from the bed, put us both in the shower where he pampered me, loved me on the shower wall, carried me out, told me to get dressed, and the next thing I know the bell was ringing. I didn't know who it was but imagine my shock, surprise, and joy when it was my parents. My mom took one look at the ring on my finger and my burgeoning belly and broke out into tears.
I am not sure how long we stood in the foyer crying and hugging one another, but it felt so good to hug her. She told me how sorry she was for not responding to my calls. She explained how she and my father felt like we had shunned them somehow by leaving. Our decision to go to New York somehow telling them they weren’t good enough for us. I guess I never looked at it like that. I turned to face my father and when he pulled me into his arms, I felt elation. My parents are not the most affectionate, but when they did give us hugs, we always felt safe. From that moment on, they come here at least twice a month and stay with us. They are both excited to be grandparents and I am hoping once the baby comes it will be enough to convince them to move here. Stefano offered to buy them a home in our neighborhood, but a modest one where they won't feel so out of place. My father said he will think about it. I suppose that will have to do for now. “How long until these invaders go. I’m hungry.” Lord, will this man ever stop making me throb and needy?