Separating from her hungry kiss, I spin her around and splay her hands on the wall then gently coax her into a bent position. My cock throbs with expectant release as I open her up, driving deep inside her. Slowly, I slide back out, tantalizing her with my hard length. I know she loves a good tease.
“Does that feel good?” I question between slow thrusts.
“Yes.”
“Do you want it harder?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still thirsty?”
She laughs. “No.”
I snigger then proceed to slide in and out of her at a faster pace. In and out, in and out, the warm walls of her pussy massaging my shaft as I glide back and forth.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp before reaching forward and cupping her bouncing tits.
Noticing her arms weaken as she holds herself up against the wall, I release one breast and wrap my arm around her waist, supporting her.
“I’ve got you. Just relax.”
Her body slackens just a little, and her head drops back onto my shoulder. I let go of her breast, brace my hand against the wall, and seize her mouth with my own.
My efforts to refrain from ejaculating become impossible as the sensation is just too great, and I explode into her, filling her as I pulse with pleasure. Our climax melts into one as I continue to roll against her, slowing down and steadying not only our stance but our breathing as well.
I slide out of her and turn her back around to face me, catching the elated joy radiating from her in the form of a satisfied smile. She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her forehead against mine.
“Why are you so happy?” I question, already pretty sure of the answer.
With a sexy as hell raise of her eyebrow, she takes a hold of my tie and tugs me toward the lounge. “One room down, at least five to go.”
CHAPTER THREE
One hour was not enough time to complete Alexis’ plans for the remaining five rooms. It was, however, enough time for both the recording studio and the master bedroom. Never would I ever say no to her, but damn was I glad we only had an hour. Any longer and my dick would’ve fallen off.
In the beginning of the pregnancy, Alexis’ sexual appetite was non-existent, but that was completely understandable considering what happened during that time—her being slightly traumatised for a few weeks following Gareth’s death. The thing about Alexis, though, is she has an incredible ability to put on a brave face and deal with life’s hurdles, as she puts it.
During those initial weeks, we comforted each other, both of us trying to move past the explosion—and I say the term ‘move past’ very lightly, ‘moving past’ not being as easily achievable for some. It wasn’t until approximately a month afterward—and in amongst our comforting—that our sexual urges returned, our intimate moments helping heal the unspoken words of the tragic event. Then, for the weeks that followed, Alexis’ morning sickness reared its ugly head, halting our restored libidos. Why it is called morning sickness bloody stumps me. It’s never just the mornings.
Shortly after her constant need to vomit disappeared, her sexual desires increased ten-fold. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not complaining—her physical presence still drives me wild. It’s just...my dick fails to let my brain know that at times it is fucking whacked and in need of a rest.
“I can’t believe you had Twister carpet put in,” Alexis laughs while watching the passing traffic on the Tullamarine Freeway. She turns to face me with a mischievous grin. “You know, as soon as I’ve popped out BB, I’m challenging you to a game...naked.”
We are on our way to collect Nate and Charlotte from school and to then surprise them with the completion of the apartment.
“Why wait till after you give birth to challenge me?” I ask, curiously. I’m surprised with her current sex-drive that she hasn’t penned in a game for this evening.
“Because you will have an unfair advantage.”
“How’s that?” I chuckle while noticing her eyes spark wide.
“Because I can’t easily twist and manoeuvre with a child growing within my womb.”
Before I can answer her, she shouts at the top of her lungs. “Hey! Quick! Pull into 7-Eleven.”
Her sudden outburst shocks the shit out of me and has me veering into the service station. In a slight panic, I bring the car to an abrupt halt. “What! What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I ask, fear gripping my insides as I reach over and place my hands on her stomach to inspect her for signs of distress.
“I need a Slurpee. A big one! Oooo, I hope they have bubblegum flavour,” she says with excitement while patting my slightly trembling hands before unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Just before closing the door, she pokes her head back in. “You want anything?”
“No. I’m all good,” I respond while letting out a breath.
As I watch her lightly waddle through the shop doors, I drop my head to the steering wheel in exasperation. Jesus fucking Christ! She will be the death of me.
Talk about giving me a heart attack, and all for a frozen, crushed ice drink, saturated in sugar syrup. Bloody pregnancy cravings. When Alexis was pregnant with Bianca, she preferred potato chips dipped in ice cream. And, as disgusting as that had been, I could stomach the notion and produce that particular craving for her when required. However, the shit she has been eating this time around nearly has me dry retching. I mean, who the hell eats pickles on toast with cheese and mayonnaise? And, did I mention I caught her dipping a carrot into her glass of chocolate milk last week?
She walks back to the car, happily sucking on her Slurpee.
I smile. She is just so incredibly cute. “Happy now?” I ask as she sits back in the car and buckles her seat belt.
Alexis sucks her straw, slurping loudly then smiles back at me. “Yep.”
“Good.”
She tilts her drink toward me. “You want some?”
“No. That shit is basically liquid sugar.”
“And your problem is?” she asks while stirring the mixture around, seemingly unperturbed by my unhealthy factual statement.
I glance over at her, the sides of my mouth rising in a smug grin. “My problem is that it’s not good for you.”
“BB likes it. Look...” she points to her stomach, her expression happily cocky. “...he just high-fived me.”
Wearing a pair of maternity jeans and a tight fitting grey top, she is all baby-belly.
“Wait for it...” she says in anticipation.
I humour her and wait, staring at her tummy.
“Ha! See?” she giggles, as her tummy jerks ever so slightly, showcasing my son’s movement. “You like Slurpees just like Mummy does, don’t you BB?” she coos in her mummy-baby voice.
Seeing her stomach move like that fills me with a feeling of complete awe, love, and astonishment. I could watch it all day. I remember back to the first time I felt BB kick—BB? Bloody hell! I can’t believe she has me referring to my son as the letter B squared. Annoyed at myself for allowing such a ridiculous nickname for my unborn son, I decide I really need to do something about it sooner rather than later.
Bringing my gaze back to her happy face, I go to complain about the absurd name but am halted as I take in the joy radiating from her while she rubs her tummy.
“Mummy likes the bubblegum and cola flavour, BB. But next time we will try grape, what do you reckon?”
Her hand jerks again, and we both laugh. I decide now is not the time to bury the nickname BB and, instead, return to my recollection of when I first felt my son move. It was shortly after we found out that he was a boy. We were lying in bed after just having a bath together, and Alexis was playfully singing “Kiss You All Over” by Exile, because I had only just moments before kissed her all over. She’d started the chorus then paused mid-word, ‘...he kicked!’ she’d blurted out, looking at me as though being internally booted was extremely pleasurable. ‘Quick! Quick! Give me your hand.’ She’d then grabbed my hand and pressed it against her stomach. The wait for movement was the weirdest anticipation I had ever felt. I knew what a baby kicking my hand was like, because I had experienced Alexander do it to Lucy. But waiting to feel the first movement of your own child was...well, it was surreal—exciting, but strangely tense.