The chairs and couches are made to look old in order to match the house, but have subtle modern details to keep it interesting and from looking like we stepped back in time.
Among the ship models, letters in bottles, and map paintings, is our baby’s ultrasound photo that has been blown up, framed, and hung on the wall as an art piece. I never would’ve thought to do something like that. It’s a good thing Paul decorated or I could’ve had this place looking like a school dorm in no time. It’s everything I could’ve wanted and so much more.
I wipe away the tears with the back of my sleeve. “I can’t believe this. You’re literally making all of my dreams come true. Could you be any more perfect?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Come look at this view.”
He leads me to the back of the house, toward the sitting room. I step through the door and lose all of my cognitive abilities. I’m stunned. There are no w
ords.
The entire back of the house is made of windows. In the corners are more of the wood lace details. Some of the windows curve like an old greenhouse so that I can see the sky above me as well. There’s a small fenced yard in back. Plenty of room for a garden, and playhouse when our child comes of age. The rest of the view is nothing but ocean. The sky is bright blue with low-hanging clouds of pure, fluffy white. In the distance there are sailboats and a charter boat. Farther from that is a shadow of an island. I can’t believe this is the view I’ll see every day when I come home from work. This is what I will get to look at while I’m feeding our child. I can definitely see myself here with my little family for the rest of my life.
“Let’s go upstairs. I want to show you our bedroom,” Paul says.
We go upstairs. There are more of those Victorian touches all over the house and the modern ones, too. We go into our room. There’s another wall with windows, but there are more modern gadgets and décor in here than there is in the rest of the house. Paul pushes a button on the wall and the drapes start to move from the center of the window to the walls in order to expose the view. In the bathroom, instead of the claw foot tubs I’d seen in the bathroom we passed by downstairs, there’s a Jacuzzi tub. That will be nice to sit in for hours, and there’s plenty of room to fit Paul and I comfortably should we decide to share a bath—which we most definitely will if I have anything to say about it.
All the furniture in the room is the stuff Paul bought me for the apartment. He must’ve cleaned the place out. I can’t say I’ll miss that place. At least here we can be as noisy in the bedroom as we’d like without getting the neighbors involved.
I’m standing at the window looking out when Paul comes up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and holds my growing baby belly. It doesn’t take much to get me started these days. Just the slightest touch from him can get me in the mood. Hell, even the wind blowing against my skin gets me in the mood most days. It’s almost as if my nerve endings grew nerve endings and they’re all on ecstasy. I’m experiencing new touches and feelings for the first time.
When he moves his hands beneath my shirt to touch the skin on my belly, I lean against him. My nipples are hard, almost aching, begging to be touched. My boobs have grown an entire cup size. Paul has seemed to make it his personal mission to fit the entire thing in his mouth like he had when they were smaller, but so far he hasn’t succeeded.
He brushes his thumb against the taut pink nubs, and that alone turns me into a puddle in his arms.
“I want you so bad right now,” I say. “Get naked.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says in a deep, breathy voice that drips with longing.
As soon as I hear the buckle on his jeans hit the floor, I turn to him and push him back onto the bed, helping him with his shoes and the rest of his clothing. I’m wearing a shirt and skirt, so I’m out of those in no time.
As much as I love foreplay, I’m beyond that point. There’s a deep craving inside of me. A need for this. Right now I’m a sex zombie and only having him inside me will stop the hunger.
He’s hard and ready for me. I hover over him until we’re in alignment, then sink down into him and feel the excruciating relief of having him inside me.
Not only are my breasts swollen, but so are my insides. The pillowy flesh of my canal clings to his shaft like a suction cup. Every time I rise up off of him, he lets out a sound that’s almost like a growl, then a long breath of relief when I sink back down.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says as I ride him.
He holds his hands on my ass to regulate my speed. If it were up to me I’d be slamming myself onto him, but he’s afraid I’ll hurt myself and the baby—even though the doctor said sex (even the fast kind) is perfectly safe.
Still, even slow and steady is fine with me as long as he’s filling me up. I close my eyes and roll my head back, feeling more content than I ever have before. Though being pregnant at twenty-one isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my future, I wouldn’t change a thing. This is my happily ever after.
8
Paul
Three Months Later.
I never meant to fall in love with my best friend’s daughter. I’d never even been all that attracted to younger women before, and had only dated women my age. In fact, the one date I had gone on with someone younger than me—a twenty-five-year-old nursing student a friend of mine had set me up with—I found her to be a vapid, overly exaggerated blowup doll without two brain cells to rub together. I was truly afraid for those who may one day be in her care.
Then Rachael came along.
Of course I’d never thought of her in a sexual way before now. She was just my best friend’s cute kid. She was always bubbly and happy, and it was fun having her around, unlike some of the brats my friends had whelped.
Then she turned eighteen and suddenly—out of nowhere, it seemed—she’d become the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on. I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell that happened and where was I during these changes? Not only was she stunning to look at, but she was hilarious, and sarcastic, and mature beyond her years. We could be silly and tell inappropriate jokes, or have deep, meaningful conversations that often led to me seeing the world just a little differently than I once had.
Even when she was sixteen and seventeen, she would flirt and I wouldn’t think much of it. She had a crush on an older man. These things happen. But as this continued into her adulthood, I was powerless to stop myself from flirting back. Sometimes even pushing to see how far she’d go. When I realized she would be willing to go all the way and this wasn’t just harmless flirting, my emotions started getting involved. I’d fallen for her. I wanted her more than I ever wanted anyone in my life.
That’s when I knew I had to leave. In less than a month, I sold my business and my home. I had to get as far away as possible. If I didn’t, I knew one day she would break my heart. She’d find some young kid who had more energy and was better looking than me. He wouldn’t have the laugh lines around his mouth and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Those are stupid, shallow things to be self-conscious about at my age, but I couldn’t help feeling that way around her.
I couldn’t bear to watch her fall in love with someone else, so I left.
It was supposed to be a new beginning. I went on dates, and found new hobbies, and got back into construction. I was supposed to make a full recovery from Rachael. Except, even after I moved, those feelings didn’t go away. They didn’t even lessen at all. If anything, they grew stronger because I didn’t have those moments of seeing her face to tide me over until the next time.
I was completely fucking miserable. For two whole years.
Then I got that text from her in the middle of the night and knew I couldn’t fight my feelings any longer.
Her dad had been asking me to make it to her surprise party for weeks, but I kept turning him down. But now that I knew she still wanted me, I had to see where this would go. It was the perfect excuse to come see her. I drove all night across the state, only stopping to caffeinate.
I never thought that text would lead to this. Us, in our new home, and Rachael carrying my child. And me with this diamond ring in my back pocket.
I’m nervous. Yes, we’re going to have a baby, but that doesn’t mean she’ll want to be stuck with me the rest of her life. She says she loves me, but I have a hard time believing she could possibly feel anything close to what I feel for her—that anyone has ever felt love like this before.
She stands in front of the windows in our room looking out at the ocean. It’s her favorite place in the house. We’ve been here three months already and it’s always where she can be found. It’s an overcast day and the clouds manage to make her skin look creamier than it already does.
She’s so beautiful with her long dark hair and big baby bump. There’s something I find incredibly sexy about pregnant women, but Rachael is the sexiest of them all.
I step up behind her a
nd place my hands on her stomach, feeling my growing child moving beneath my fingers. I’m so full of love for the both of them I could burst.
She lets out a content sigh and leans against me. “Are you done for the day?” she asks.
I’ve spent the days finishing up the details on the house and making sure everything is perfect for when our child arrives so that I can dedicate all my time to my perfect little family.
I kiss her neck. “I am.”
She lets out a hot little moan. “Does this mean I have you all to myself now?”
“I’m all yours, but first I need to ask you something.”
I kneel before her. Her hands automatically go to her mouth and cover it. She knows what’s coming. My heart is racing and I hope to all that is holy that she doesn’t turn me down.
“Rachael Holt,” I say, my voice catching. I swallow. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Tears pour down her flushed cheeks. She lets out a quick sob and a burst of laughter. “Yes! Oh my god, yes.”
I slip the ring on her finger and stand, finding her lips. I lead her to the bed and gently lay her down. Piece by piece, her clothing is removed. I’m a visual creature and like to take my time exposing each stretch of pale skin. Sometimes my favorite part of sex is the view.
Once her panties are off, I kneel on the floor in front of her and spread her knees apart. My breathing grows heavy as I enter my middle finger into her. She makes the most adorable little sounds as I slide my finger in and out of her slick hole. The faces she makes—both focused and abandoned—are the most beautiful of their kind, like the rest of her.
Pushing my fingers apart inside her, I look inside the dark abyss, wishing I could crawl inside its silky warmth and live in there.
As I spread her wider, her rosy asshole twitches. My balls tighten against me as my arousal grows. I’ll need release soon or this could get uncomfortable.
Her clit is hard. With a relaxed tongue I barely brush against it, a teasing dance to drive her wild. Her butt comes off the bed in a humping motion, pussy muscles flexing and contracting. Such a hot pleat of flesh—perfect in every way as if it were sculpted by a great artist out of the most delicate fabric on earth.