“Babe, what…?”
He said nothing, just slipped a couple of fingers inside me while he made love to my skin. With his thumb on my clit I lost the power of speech. And in truth, the adoration he clearly felt for my big belly worked a magic on me that no words had.
I felt his mouth inching higher, traipsing wide paths over my skin. He peppered my breasts with sharp kisses while his hands became acquainted with all parts of the new me. He kissed my nipples with a tenderness that bordered on neglect.
“Oh boy, Tez. Our little girl’s been working you hard, huh?”
“You can try them if you want. You might get a little more than you bargain for, though.”
He kissed each one again, and smiled. “Aw, I’m not gonna steal from Abbie. I’d have to share my beer with her to make it fair.”
“Turkey.”
He silenced me with a deep kiss that curled my toes. I devoured him, every part of him, from the remnants of his aftershave to the scratching of his already-there stubble. From the weight of his body on me to the lightness of his touch inside me.
He pulled back and just looked at me for a moment. I could feel tears in my eyes, and was surprised to see them in his, too. I slipped my hand against his neck. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“What for?”
“For being so scared for so long.”
He moved my hand down to his chest. “You feel my heart? I’m petrified.”
“You’re scared? What of?”
A few heavy tears landed on my lips and I swallowed them. I don’t know if they were mine or Bradley’s.
“Hurting you.”
“Trust me, babe.” I dropped into a stage whisper. “I’m not a virgin.”
“Not like that. Turkey.” He held up his hand again, the one with the little scars on it. “I’m a man. I’m a doer. A protector.”
I kissed his hand, kissed all the little marks I’d made. “You are. You do.”
He pressed his fingers to my cheek, ran them slowly down my body, coming to rest on my hip.
“I know it was all happening to you. The pain was yours, the vulnerability, the anger. But there’s still pain for a man. To see the woman you love more than life itself, tearing at the bedsheets, clawing at the world, because she’s hurting so bad and there’s nothing you can do about it. It wouldn’t be one-tenth of what you felt. But it’s the greatest pain I’ve ever known.”
“Oh, babe.” I reached down and stroked him, though he was as hard as I’d ever seen him. I pulled on him lightly, just drawing him in, guiding him home.
Suddenly, he was right there. One little push and he’d fill me.
I moved my hand out of harm’s way and pulled at him with my feet. He slipped easily into me and I gave his shoulder some little marks to match the ones on his hand.
“Oh, babe…I’ve missed this. So fucking much.”
I could sense him holding back, as if his strength would somehow hurt me. Now…or in nine months’ time.
“Babe, stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I want this. Hell, I need this. But not this way.” I pushed him over on his back and rolled up on top.
I grabbed his wrists, held his hands down beside his head, draping my breasts all over his face. When I’m a mommy, I feel like my life is out of control, like every moment is a challenge. But in that moment, astride my bull-strong husband and directing the play, I was the alpha. The driver. This, I could do.
Anchored in place, I ground my hips over Bradley’s, took his cock deep inside me. His face sizzled with intensity and want, and it made me ride him even harder. He nipped at my heavy breasts and bunted at my wide hips. He pushed up with his hands but couldn’t break my grip.
I bit into my lip as I squeezed his body with my thighs. The waves of pleasure that arced from my clit seemed to reach deeper and wider than they had before pregnancy. As if the pounding of my contractions had beaten down walls, opened new channels within me.
Bradley’s breath came in short, punching blows, and I knew he was close to coming. The desire on his face turned to beautiful pain as the heat of his climax burst inside me.
I followed right after, my orgasm erupting with a power that astonished me, but that I finally understood. Because, yeah, childbirth had been hell, but I’d beaten it. It was no longer some formless monster hiding around that next corner. It was something I could do. And knowing I had that strength made me feel sexier than any lingerie ever could.
I fell into Bradley’s arms, my hair sticking to my face. Neither of us had the breath to speak, nor the words to say.
As if on cue, Abbie began to cry again. I lifted my head and groaned, but Bradley steered me back down off his body and onto the bed.
“I got this, Tez.”
He slipped off the bed, pulled on some shorts and left the room. I knew the moment he arrived at Abbie’s door, simply by the squealing giggle she let loose.
“Hello, Gabby Abbie. How’s my little wonder? Oh, you’re a hungry little thing, huh?”
He laid her down on the bed beside me and she latched on like there was no tomorrow. Bradley sat and watched us, his smiling face glinting with a sheen of tears.
“God, you’re perfect. Both of you.”
I held my hand out to him, and he kissed my fingers.
“You know, Tez, I bet Ray would give you your job back in a flash. If you want it.”
I pulled him down so his body and mine shielded Abbie from the world. “No, babe. Everything I want is right here.”
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” I stroked Abbie’s impossibly soft hair. “This…this, I can do.”
Part IV
Coupling-being a couple-is a hard thing to define. It’s great, it’s hard, it’s wonderful, it’s daunting. It’s not all good, but it is all worth it. I think that’s how I look at it. Being one half of a whole (and that is how I think of us. One unit.) can often be frustrating beyond belief. But, if you flip it over (already it’s sounding dirty), it can often be the most amazing thing you will ever experience.
My husband-“the man” to those of you who read me regularly-is my best friend. That’s a huge part of being a couple, if you ask me. He’s my lover, my partner, my friend, my teacher, often he’s the only person on the face of the planet who can understand where I’m coming from…and still love me.
I’m sure there are days that the urge to kill me-or at the very least, duct tape my mouth shut-is nearly overwhelming. And I have similar days, I won’t lie. I think that’s pretty damn normal, because marriage, even wonderful ones (17 years and counting as I write this), can be hard to maintain. It takes a lot of work and a lot of love and a lot of…really knowing each other.
Put that last component in the bedroom and you have a recipe for awesome. I have discovered and developed *ahem* interests since I met the man that I never had before I met him. Things that I once would have socked a man for suggesting we do, turn me on with him. There have been many firsts since we met and I’m sure there will be many more. And that’s saying something since I was 23 when I married him and he was 30. We were not, by far, virgins. But like I said, firsts-we’ve had ‘em. Which is all that matters to me.
I’ve discovered a lot about myself inside and outside the bedroom thanks to him. Every day, I continue to discover, which is really all you can ask for in a relationship.
Am I the same person I was when I married him? Nope. Is he the exact same man I married? Nope. Do I love him? More than I can describe with words, and words are what I do all day every day.
What amazes me most is how we’ve grown together and how the unit we formed so many years ago seems to keep shifting and evolving and yet never waivers. It just gets better…because we work at it. Lots of sex helps, but damn, so does lots of talking and lots of laughing and lots of patience. And did I mention sex? I did. Oh. Sorry. But it is super important.;)