“Anecstaticaccident,” Brian corrected.
I squealed, drawing David immediately to my side. “What?” he asked with an edge of panic.
Brian put a hand on Gretchen’s tummy and looked at David. “Thirteen weeks pregnant.”
I fanned my face to hold in tears as David gave Gretchen a gentle hug. I turned and announced the news at the top of my lungs, receiving cheers in response.
* * *
Once dark had fallen and everyone had gone home, David and I cleaned up the party. “Go to bed,” David said when we’d almost finished. He threw an empty beer bottle into an oversized black trash bag. “I’ll finish this.”
“You’re a good husband,” I called back to him. I let him clean because I had plans to reward him copiously. In the bedroom, I pulled black stockings up to my thighs and attached them to a matching garter belt. I slipped into one of David’s favorite pairs of stilettos and topped everything off with a short black-lace negligée. I snuck into our sprawling master bathroom to fix my hair and then perched on the bed to wait.
Our sex life had become a drug for both of us. Like our connection from the day we’d met eyes, it only intensified the more we gave in to it. The more we pried each other open, the more we spilled into each other—and the results had been mind-blowing.
David had lovingly escorted me to the best gynecologist in town to hear our options concerning sterilization. For now, we’d decided to leave our options open just in case. The fact that he would be willing to get a vasectomy for me, though, was a testament to the love and faith he had in us.
When I got bored of waiting for David to come to bed, I slid open the door to our built-in balcony and let the cool night wash over me. I hopped onto the ledge. David hated when I sat on it, but to lean over our own backyard and feel the breeze exhilarated me, even if it was only from the second story.
I heard him in the bedroom so I got into position by straightening my shoulders and spreading my thighs. “Out here,” I called.
“Holy fucking shit,” he drawled when he walked outside. “You look good enough to eat, but if you don’t get down right this second, I’m going to be pissed.”
“How pissed will you be?” I asked, grasping the wood railing between my legs and leaning back slightly.
“Olivia, I’m not fucking around,” he said, approaching cautiously as though I might let go. He leaped and grasped me in his arms. I giggled as he threw me over his shoulder and swatted my lace-covered behind. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Yes,” I whispered excitedly under my breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, ‘Please be gentle.’”
He vaulted me backward onto the bed, and I landed in a pile of soft down. “I gather you aren’t aiming for gentle in that outfit,” he rumbled, standing between my legs and running his hands along my thighs.
I licked my bottom lip, bit it gently, and shook my head. “No, sir.”
His lids lowered. “Turn over, ass in the air.”
I obeyed and pressed my cheek against the mattress. He spread me open, pushed my panties aside, and slipped in one finger. “Always so wet for me,” he murmured.
I agreed with a muffled purr. He bent to kiss me between the legs, then ran his tongue along the length of me and inserted another finger. “Do you want to come like this?” he asked.
“No,” I breathed.
“How then?”
“I want you inside me.”
He chuckled. “Of course you do.” He fingered me slightly harder, causing me to writhe. “Hold still.”
I fisted my hands into the sheets and took it, trying not to squirm as he tongued me—but I couldn’t help it.
Without removing his mouth, so I still felt his breath between my legs, he asked, “Will you hold still, or do I have to tie you up?”
“I want to be bound,” I said. “But only by you.”
He climbed onto the bed, and I offered my hands behind me. He grasped both of my wrists easily in one big hand, yanked my underwear to my knees, and pressed the head of his cock against my opening.
