Page 26 of The Baby
“You’re not riding Petunia. You’re too pregnant for that now. A fall could hurtthebaby.”
I bounced up, bracing my weight against his chest. “Jake, you can’ttellme I can’t ridePetunia.”
“Ijustdid.”
“But that’s not right. That’s sexist. Thinking I can’t make the decision on my own to know when it might be too dangerous to ridePetunia.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re afraid to ride her for five months in case something might happen, now I’m agreeing with you and you’re calling me a sexist. Do you see how unfair this whole sex debate isformen?”
I glowered. “It’s not unfair. It’s…” I stopped myself. I was going to rail about choice and brains and logic and decision making. The truth was I still was sort of scared about riding Petunia. I figured if I needed to prove to Jake that I was going to get better with the whole being pregnant thing, I needed to overcome some of thosefears.
Jake essentially took that one away. Even if it was sort of sexist. It was alsoI’m your husband and sometimes I know you better than you know yourself.I wasn’t sure what the actual word forthatwas.
So I plopped down on his chest. I let him put his arms around me, and I thought of what I could do to show him things were going to be different now. Things were going to bebetter.
Before I could think of anything, all the crying and the worrying from before finally caught up with me and I fell asleep inhisarms.
* * *
Iwoke up horny.This was not a new event. This had been happening now for weeks once the nausea went away. I turned over and saw that it was still early. Dawn wasn’t breaking yet. We didn’t bother with things like shutters or curtains on the upstairs windows, because it wasn’t as if there was anyone out there looking to see in, and Jake liked waking up with natural sunlight rather than some blaring alarmclock.
He was still sleeping—I could tell by the steady up and down of hischest.
You won’t let mefuckyou.
When did you stop believinginme?
You, of all people in this world, you should haveknownthat.
All the angry words of last night came back to me in a rush. But he’d forgiven me. Which made him an even better man. He could have yelled more, he could have held a grudge. He could have stomped around and called me out for not respecting his wishes, for only thinking ofmyself.
Instead he’d tried to understand my fear. Where it had come from. Why I would do something like this in the first place. Then he’d come home and brought me backtobed.
Ourbed.
Because he loved me. Because he knew what I knew—that we were in this together. Forever. Instead of shutting him out, I should have been talking to him from the beginning. I should have been telling him every step of the way where myheadwas.
Maybe if I had, the fear wouldn’t have seemed so big andawful.
I reached out and touched his furred chest over his heart. He still didn’t wake up and I reveled in it. The up and down of is breath. The slow even beat of his heart. I had this crazy urge to lick hisnipple.
And you know, since we were married, I could do that. His body was my body. My body was his body. It’s how it had been since the moment we had both acknowledged that what was between us was more thanfriendship.
More thanhistory.
Slowly I moved over him and did exactly what I had been imagining. A long slow swipe over his nipple, between where my fingers still rested over his heart. He grunted and shifted his hips, but his eyes didn’t open. It was probably an unconscious gesture. I had been waking him up with steady blow jobs for a few weeks now, so he was accustomed to being aroused whenhewoke.
I let my hand drift down under the covers until my fingers wrapped around his thick, heavy morning erection. He’d started sleeping without his boxer briefs, and instead wore loose pajama pants, I think to give me easier access to his dick. So thoughtful, myhusband.
He grunted again and lifted his hips into my hand. His arm going up over his head. Still, he didn’t open his eyes. No doubt in that state between sleep and wakefulness where all he could register was how hisbodyfelt.
Heavy, aroused, warm andcomfortable.Safe.
It’s always how I felt, when he would wake me upwithsex.
I sat up and pulled off my T-shirt. Something looser than the tank tops I usually wore to give my boobs room to breathe. Then I wiggled out of my bottoms. I pushed the covers back down his legs and took a second to admire this strong, amazing man. His cock was hard, tenting against the loose material. I freed it and I bent to swipe it with mytongue.
“Hmmm,” hegroaned.
