Some nights she plays for me, like now. I listen, enthralled, not believing that this breathtaking, talented, sunshine of a woman is my wife. That she chose me.
Every day of my life is a constant proof of my undying love and eternal devotion to her. She will never regret loving me, that she chose me to spend her life with.
I love her so much, I wish to be the only one she loves, needs, desires. I was her first, and I will be her last, but in between I want to remain the only one she’s ever wanted.
Am I doing enough? Loving her well enough? Showing her enough that she’s my entire world?
“Dahlia,” I call to her, and it’s enough for her to stop playing.
Sometimes when feelings overcome me, like right now, I lack the right words to say, but she understands.
She pulls the lid of the piano closed and stands up, walking to me.
“What is it, baby?” she asks, tilting her head.
“I love you.”
She smiles a bright, full of understanding one, palming my chest that warms under her touch. “I know. You’re the best man, the best husband, and will be the best father.”
I grip the armrests of the chair as if wanting to smother the nagging thoughts, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. “What if––”
She cuts me off by placing a finger on my mouth and drops into my lap.
My hand goes to palm her belly. It does the strangest things to me, witnessing her belly grow. I can’t wait for her to get even bigger, swell with my son.
From feeling elated to being so proud, I could shout out to the world that it’s mine. I got her pregnant. To being constantly worried about him and his mother, to getting hard randomly, just glimpsing at her belly. And damn, my woman has been craving my cock even more lately.
I wish my baby to be like his mother, but he has to be just like me. That thought always threatens to dampen my mood.
“Mika, I knew exactly who I married. I didn’t compromise or settle for less. We’ll raise him under the same credo. Family comes first too.” She smiles warmly. “What are you afraid of?”
My first instinct is to say no, that I fear nothing but that would be a lie.
I sigh and draw strength from my wife. “I wanted to give you Paris.”
I don’t need to continue.
She eyes me with such understanding and adoration it puts me on my knees.
“Paris was just a dream. Reno is our city. Our home. And you’re the Pakhan, my man. This is the life I chose for myself. This is the life I’m falling in love with daily. Give me a life, not a dream, baby. Because I’ve dreamed for years. Now, I just want to live the rest of my life.”
Her loving me never ceases to amaze me. Her unwavering belief in me makes me want to be a better man, each day renewed. “You’re perfect, Mika. You know that?”
She loves me just as I am, and that fortifies me.
I rub my nose against hers, stealing a kiss. “You keep reminding me.”
There isn’t a word in the dictionary that could come close to describing how mad I am for her.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that while pregnant, I’m afraid I will never stop wanting to get pregnant.”
I chuckle. “Is that so? I love to fuck you pregnant, baby girl. That might be a problem.”
“You’re supposed to stop me when I’m being irrational,” she tries for a chastising tone but fails.
I arch a brow at her. “My wife is not irrational. She just loves my cock too much to resist.”
Brushing my palms along her calves, I reach the apex of her thighs.
