He stills.
I don’t know where it came from. I wasn’t planning on saying it. I wasn’t even thinking about it but seeing him like this, all-powerful but also vulnerable, it just hit me.
“Are you joking?” he asks.
“Nope.”
He gives me a look and I’m compelled to add, “I’m serious. I promise.”
In his signature style, he grabs the back of my neck to bring our faces even closer. “And when did you decide this?”
“Just now.”
Simon is silent, but I can feel the heat radiating out of his body. I can feel his hardness bumping against the empty space between my legs. He’s turned on.
“One of these days, Willow, I’m going to fuck all the impulsiveness out of you,” he growls and smacks a hard kiss on my mouth.
I moan.
I know he loves my impulsiveness. It’s the reason we got married over my Christmas break five years ago. He kept saying no but I convinced him. It’s the reason he took my virginity in that room, so long ago. Not to mention, my impulsiveness is what made me ask him out on a date a long time ago.
“You’re welcome to try. Maybe you should start now.” I rock against his erection, my panties getting damper and damper with each passing second.
“Yeah?” Moving his hands down to my ass, he presses our lower bodies together. “Is that what my princess wants? To get fucked in the closet while everyone else is downstairs, waiting for her?”
Closing my eyes, I shiver. Will I never get over it? That he calls me princess in that raspy, possessive voice of his.
I guess not. But it’s okay. I’ll ride the high of his endearments as long as I can.
“Yes, please. Fuck me. I’m gonna pretend this is the dark alley and the floor is the brick wall you fucked me against that one time.”
A few months into our marriage, he grabbed me a couple of blocks away from our building, pushed me against the wall and almost fucked the life out of me with his delicious violence. It was exactly like I told him in our session long ago. Even better, actually.
His chuckle is thick and dark, like the air around us. “I’ll do you one better this time. I’ll fill you up with so much cum that when you walk out of here, it’ll seep out of your tight hole and drench the little girl shorts you like so much.”
“Oh God, Simon…”
He lowers me to the floor, hovering over me as he makes quick work of our clothes. “And you’re going to have to clench your pussy and keep your legs closed to stop all my cum from leaking out. You know why, princess?”
“W-why?”
“Because if my princess wants a baby, then it’s my fucking job to give it to her.”
With that, he enters me, all bare, and seals our mouths so my moans don’t reach downstairs.
See, impulsiveness pays off.
People have labeled our relationship. My mom, my therapist, his therapist. They have tried to diagnose it, analyze it because of what we were to each other when we met, and what we’ve been through in our lives. But we’ve come so far. We’ve been so content and happy. Well, as happy as you can be while living with clinical depression. Unfortunately, love isn’t a cure for it, but the love of my life is there with me every step of the way.
So yeah, impulsiveness definitely paid off for me.
Twenty minutes later, I change into a fresh pair of little girl shorts and a Harry Potter t-shirt, and go downstairs. I’ve ignored my mommy duties long enough.
Simon is already there; I sent him down before me. And in his arms is my entire world: Fallon, our daughter.
The name Fallon means daughter of a king. And well, I couldn’t have named her anything else when I’ve always thought that her daddy is a king.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, I take them in. Fallon has her chubby arms around her daddy’s neck as she gives him a very detailed account of everything she’s done today. Her breakfast, her bath. Her struggle when Mommy made her sit still to do her hair. Her panic at losing her favorite toy.
And her daddy listens to everything with such rapt attention. He gives her all the reactions she wants, disbelief, dismay, chuckles. He even asks questions.
Then he tells her – seriously, with all of his fatherly authority – that she scared Mommy with her cries, and she shouldn’t do that.
Fallon pouts and lisps, “Sorry, Daddy.”
And well, there goes his stern expression.
I bite my lip as I watch them together. Simon is so good with her, such a softy. Not that I ever doubted, but still. Every time I watch him with Fallon, something inside of me just melts. I love him even more. His arms look even stronger to me when they are holding our baby girl. His eyes look even shinier when he looks at her with all his love. His shoulders look broader, he looks taller.