Page 100 of Arranged Silverfox

Becca murmured in affirmation. I followed her into our bedroom and turned on the lamp that resided on our nightstand. Becca and I got ready for bed side by side. For the first time, I was glad my bathroom included two sinks. I watched as Becca went through her skincare routine with surgical precision, washing her face and then applying a cucumber-scented moisturizer, before brushing her teeth. I shaved and brushed my teeth.

When I returned to our bedroom, I saw that Becca had laid down on our bed.

Her hair splayed out across the pillow. She looked magical. I dove onto the bed and kissed her once more.

“You’re unreal,” I whispered, trailing kisses down her neck. I played with the hem of her nightie. Becca reached down and peeled it off with a grin. I licked the curves beneath her breasts, relishing in watching her squirm as I took her decadent nipple in my mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat as my hand wandered along the curve of her belly, stopping at the glistening entrance of her sex.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been so horny lately,” Becca admitted.

“Well, do you want me to do something about it? I’m happy to oblige,” Slowly, I stuck my index finger into the entrance of her sex and curved it upward into the entrance of her sex.

“Please,” Becca begged. I stuck another finger into her slick wet entrance and worked my hands as I kissed along her ribcage. I slid off the bed, and Becca scooted down. I parted the entrance of her sex with my fingers and lapped at her entrance with my tongue in slow, luxurious circles, applying only the slightest pressure. Becca’s breath hitched. She reached down, and I grabbed her hand as she settled her heels onto my shoulders. I licked deeper now, dragging my tongue up along her clit. Becca’s breath hitched again. Her sumptuous thighs squeezed the side of my face.

I applied more pressure with my tongue and began to lick upward with vigor. Becca’s hips bucked. I could sense that her orgasm was starting to build. I licked faster and harder, nipping at the tender flesh of her thighs between licks. Becca gasped, biting her bottom lip. She lifted her hips upward, and I grabbed her ass. “Come for me,” I whispered. She howled as she came, whimpering and writhing as I continued to lick. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

I slowly disentangled myself from her legs and scooted up onto the bed beside her. Her breath was jagged. I held her trembling form.

“Good girl,” I muttered, kissing her damp forehead.

“You’re a genius,” she panted, “A bonafide sex genius.”

I laughed. “Is that so?”

Becca nodded. “It’s criminal.” She snuggled into my shoulder, and we fell asleep together, tangled and naked in the late June heat.

Chapter 18

Becca

Twoweekslater,mymorning sickness officially seemed to be a thing of the past.

I felt surprisingly energized, although my energy supply was now being divided into thirds. I woke up bright and early each morning. The heat and my growing belly made it nearly impossible to sleep.

By the time mid-July rolled around, there was no denying I was pregnant. My bump could no longer be passed off as bloating or a food baby, it was pronounced and round, sticking out of every sundress or summer top I tried on.

Jasmine solidified her place as the best friend on planet Earth by adding elastic to some of the waists of my existing summer dresses so they would grow with me, and I wouldn’t have to spend a fortune on maternity clothes that I would probably grow out of within the week. I was growing, and I was growing fast.

My body seemed to be changing by the hour. My list of cravings grew increasingly more bizarre; I craved protein even though I rarely ate red meat. Now, I ate a burger a week, sometimes conning Sebastian into grabbing a late-night burger on his drive home from work. Sebastian catered to my every whim. I was certain no one had ever been so devoted; it was sweet. The moment I expressed any discomfort, he appeared at my side, offering me a bottle of water or an antacid. While my morning sickness waned, it seemed the heartburn was here to stay.

Jasmine texted me Monday afternoon after my shift at The Cookie Cove. I’d had more than enough energy to open lately, and I savored what would be my last early mornings alone in my kitchen.

Jasmine: I figured it out! For real, this time! Get over here!

Becca: Give me half an hour; I’m just now leaving work.

My wedding dress had officially transformed Jasmine into a mad scientist of Frankenstein-level proportions. The physics required to stuff my pregnant body into a dress built for an Edwardian waif presented her with the greatest challenge of her career, and Jasmine loved a challenge. She even sourced another corset, deconstructed it, and used the boning to add more room to my corset.

Regina was furious that she wasn’t the one to track down more whale bones; the Boston historical society had ignored her phone calls because my mother had once disinvited the chair to our Christmas party. But when Jasmine called explaining that she was a young, Black designer interested in revitalizing historical materials for her dearest friend, her best friend even, they tossed her the keys to the costuming archives.

I baked them two dozen assorted cookies as a thank you, and they let Jasmine dig through the archives for another weekend. It was lovely to know that even with my wedding looming in the distance, Jasmine and I could still be each other’s partners in crime. Even though my due date was still hopefully five months away, Jasmine had amassed a treasure trove of gender-neutral baby clothes and a “my first fashion design” board book.

I pulled into the parking lot of the bridal shop and walked into the front entrance. The shopkeeper’s face fell when he saw me, “You’re looking for Jasmine, aren’t you?” he guessed. I nodded, and his eyes drifted to the swell of my belly. I’d forgotten to dress in looser clothes since my apron hid everything efficiently. My face reddened as I realized I was only wearing leggings and what used to be an oversized T-shirt but was now being stretched to its limits.

Now that the nausea had officially ceased, I loved my pregnant body. Rest assured that I was no longer gaining weight for no reason; I found my bump cute. I felt oddly accomplished. According to the most recent appointment, I was growing two perfectly healthy babies. I wished desperately that I didn’t have to hide it. But seeing the disdain and discomfort on the shopkeeper’s face as he did the math in his head made a tidal wave of shame wash over me.

I yanked at the hem of my shirt, and he redirected his gaze to a nearby mannequin before finally speaking, “She’s in the back. She’s transformed our storage room into her own design studio at this point. I’d be annoyed, except I recently offered her a job as our in-house tailor. Our other tailor is retiring at the end of the month,” he explained as he led me to the back of the shop.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” I exclaimed. Jasmine’s wardrobe assistant gig was only part-time; I knew she’d been looking for work to supplement some of her hours.

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