Page 11 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Christmas Treat
She turns in my arms, and there's something different in her expression. Nervous excitement, maybe. Like she's holding onto a secret that's about to burst out of her.
"Colt, I have something for you."
"It's not Christmas yet," I protest, though I'm already curious. My hands rest on her hips, thumbs stroking over the soft cotton of her dress. Ivy's gifts are always thoughtful, always perfect.
"This can't wait." She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a small wrapped box. "Open it."
I take it, studying her face as I carefully unwrap the paper. She's practically vibrating with anticipation, biting her lower lip the way she does when she's nervous. It’s the same way she looks when she's beneath me, desperate and wanting.
Inside the box are tiny knitted booties. They’re soft yellow wool with little white snowflakes embroidered on them.
For a moment, my brain can't process what I'm seeing. Then it hits me like an avalanche.
"Ivy," I say, my voice coming out hoarse. "Are these?"
"We're having a baby," she whispers, tears gathering in her beautiful brown eyes. "I'm eight weeks along. The doctor confirmed it yesterday."
The booties blur as my own eyes fill. A baby.Our baby.
I set them carefully on the counter with shaking hands, then frame her face, studying every beloved feature. My wife. The mother of my child. The woman who dragged me back from the edge of despair and showed me what it means to truly live.
"How do you feel about becoming a daddy?" she asks softly.
"Terrified," I admit, because I've never lied to her. "And so fucking hard I can barely think straight. You're carrying my baby, Ivy. My seed took root inside you."
Her breath catches, pupils dilating. "Colt..."
"You're going to be so beautiful pregnant," I growl, backing her against the kitchen counter. "Round and swollen with my child. Everyone will see what I've done to you. How I've claimed you."
"I want that," she breathes, her hands fisting in my shirt. "I want everyone to know I belong to you."
"Do you?" I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her thighs, pressing my hardness against her core. "Then show me how much you want to carry my babies."
Her dress is already hiked up around her waist, and I can feel the heat of her through her panties. "Touch me," she pleads. "I need you to touch me."
"My pregnant wife wants to be touched?" I ask roughly, my hand sliding between her legs. She's already soaked through the lace. "Christ, you're dripping for me."
"Always," she gasps as I push her panties aside and slide two fingers inside her. "Always wet for you."
I work her with my fingers while my thumb circles her clit, watching her fall apart on my kitchen counter. "That's it. Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you love carrying my baby."
She shatters with a cry, her body clenching around my fingers. Before she can recover, I'm lifting her, carrying her to our bedroom with desperate need.
"I need to be inside you," I growl, laying her on the bed.
I strip us both with shaking hands, then settle between her thighs. When I push inside her, she's tight and wet and perfect.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," I groan, starting to move. "So tight around my cock. Can't wait to watch you get bigger, knowing I did this to you."
"Harder," she pants, nails raking down my back. "I need you deeper."
I give her what she's begging for, pounding into her with primal need. "Going to take such good care of my pregnant wife. Going to fuck you every day, make sure you never forget you're mine."
"Yes," she sobs, her body starting to shake. "I'm yours. Always yours."
"Come for me," I command. "Come on my cock while you're pregnant with my baby."
She screams my name as she comes, her body gripping me like a vice. The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I empty myself inside her with a roar that echoes off the walls.
