“Oh,” I whisper.
“The reason I’m telling you about birth control and condoms is because ultimately you get to decide whether you want to get pregnant or not. I can only share my opinion. At the end of the day, it’s always your choice. It’s you who will carry our babies, so I don’t have the right to tell you what to do. I’m saying all this because I have condoms. If you don’t want to face the possibility of getting pregnant, I will wear one until you’re ready.”
My chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s serious. He’s letting me decide? I’m so flabbergasted that I can’t utter a word. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“It’s your choice, Rebekah. I may be bossy about a lot of things, especially when it concerns your safety, but not this. I will not take this option out of your hands.”
The tears gather again. I’m so emotional. At first, I was about to cry because I thought he didn’t want to have babies. Now I’m about to cry because he’s being so incredibly thoughtful.
Visions pop into my mind. Maybe his descriptive suggestions cause them. I can picture myself huge with his child, my stomach heavy, my ankles swollen. Nothing fits me. I’ve seen pregnant women. When I was younger, my mother had female friends in homesteads nearby. We visited them. Those were the only times I had other kids besides Hannah to play with.
Often, the women were pregnant. I never saw their husbands hovering or helping them. It seemed to me that the women were exhausted and still did all the cooking and cleaning in addition to taking care of the older kids.
At the time, the idea of ever being pregnant scared me, but now I’m seeing it through a different lens. The man I just married is overbearing and protective. He would never let me get rundown doing laundry in the creek. Hell, I bet he even has a washing machine.
“Tell me why you’re crying, sweetheart.” He doesn’t order me to stop. He isn’t even aggravated. He’s just asking me to explain.
I sniffle back the sob. “Because you’re so nice.”
He chuckles, his body shaking mine, making me aware we just had this serious conversation while he has been stretched out between my legs. The only thing keeping his penis from being inside me is his boxers. I’m aware of it pressing against my folds. It’s not small.
“I will always be nice. Can’t change that. If you were looking for a husband who would scream at you and berate you, you married the wrong man.”
“I don’t want you to use the balloon thingy,” I blurt out.
His brows shoot up. “You don’t want me to wear a condom?”
I shake my head. I’m scared, but I want to have Adam’s baby. Not just because he’s made it clear it’s what he wants, but because I love the idea of having a small human that’s a part of both of us. I’ve been half in love with this man for a decade. There is no other man I’d like to have a baby with.
I’m so lucky. So very lucky. I will thank the heavens for the rest of my life that Asher tossed me over his shoulder and tied me to that chair. He probably saved me from a fate worse than death.
Ten
Adam
* * *
My heart is racing. My precious girl is so brave. It’s time to point out another choice she has, even though my cock is going to hate me.
“If you don’t want to use condoms, we won’t. I don’t want you to be disappointed if it takes you a while to get pregnant, though. That’s normal, especially since you don’t have regular periods and you’re underweight. It might take your body a few months to get healthy enough to make a baby.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“One more important thing, I meant what I said earlier about having sex. I would never force you to accept me into your body. This all happened fast. I’ve rushed you.” I kiss her and then give her a cocky grin. “I dragged you to the courthouse so fast your head is spinning. I did it to make sure you’re safe. You’re mine now. But if you’re not ready to have sex, I totally understand.”
I’ve told her this twice. I want to be sure she understands. I never want her to look back on the start of our lives with regret.
She reaches for me with her small hands and strokes my beard. “I want to be yours,” she says softly. “But I’m scared.”
She’s fucking precious. I kiss her again. “We’ll take our time. We’ll go as slow as you want.”
“It’s going to hurt. My sister told me that.”
I nod. I won’t lie to her. Plus, she’s so small. “It will, but only the first time. When you’re ready, I’ll start by putting one finger inside you, then I’ll add a second and a third to stretch your tight pussy out. My cock will still feel like too much, but I’ll enter you slowly and then we’ll wait until you’re ready for me to move.”
I’ve been with several women in my life, but it’s been a while. I’m practically going to be fumbling like a teenager myself. Never in my life have I imagined having sex with a virgin, though. I certainly didn’t picture myself marrying one. And even more unlikely—taking her to bed for the first time on our wedding night.
But this is right. My heart is so full. I will do everything in my power to keep from hurting her. I’m not looking forward to seeing her face scrunched in pain. I never want to hurt her.
