“Good girl,” I groan. “Such a good fucking girl.”
“Can I stop y-yet?” she stammers, but I shake my head.
“No fucking way. Keep going. I’m not dirty enough yet.”
She whimpers, so I ask again.
“Colour.”
“G-green,” she pants, writhing, and even though I can tell she’s nearly reached her limit, she thrusts back against me like she’s hungry for more.
I’m nearly fucking done though, the fight to hold myself back is almost impossible, so the moment she starts coming again, milking my cock as she drenches us both, I let go, throwing my head back with a roar as I pump cum deep inside her.
My whole body jerks with each wave that rips from me, and when it finally subsides, my legs are fucking shaking and weak.
As we both come down from another mind blowing high, I ease my cock and the dildo from her, and relieve her of the clit sucker, turning it off and tossing the fucking thing on the bed.
“You okay?” I ask, and she nods, a drunk-like grin spreading across her face.
“I’m more than okay,” she breathes, and I place my hand on her stomach.
“How about this?” I ask, feeling how firm it is. “Wait. When are you due?”
“April.” She smiles. “Just before Bobbi’s second birthday.”
“Fuck.” I beam down at my wife. “Our little family is getting bigger.”
“It is. How big do you want it?”
I chuckle at her question. “Six kids will do.”
She practically chokes on her own saliva, coughing. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I am,” I snicker. “Maybe.”
Pushing herself up on her elbows, she reaches for me, and we ignore the mess we’ve made, focusing on each other.
“Let’s compromise.” She winks playfully. “Three kids. But we have sex like we are aiming for twenty.”
I throw my head back laughing and hold my hand out between us.
With her flushed cheeks and wild hair, she looks completely ravaged as she takes my hand in hers.
And then we shake.
“You have a deal, Mrs Musgrove.”
40
Ringo squeezes my hand as he practically jogs beside the bed, nurses and doctors surrounding us as I’m rushed into the surgical suite. Each time he looks down at me, he smiles, like he’s trying to be encouraging, but I can see the strain in his eyes.
He’s worried… and so am I.
So much happens as I’m wheeled into the birthing theatre. Things get hooked up to me, and a fabric screen gets put up over my chest, blocking the view of my very big baby bump.
“Ringo,” I whimper as the fear of what’s happening really hits me.
His whisky eyes peer down at me as a nurse rolls a stool towards him, and he quickly takes it, looking completely different dressed in the hospital scrubs he had to quickly put on over his clothes.
