She waves a hand behind her, calling over her shoulder, “Just getting a snack.”
“My dickisthe snack!” I shout.
She snorts so loud I can hear it bouncing off the tile floors and reverberating back to me. A few agonising minutes later,she returns with a black-and-white pouch in one hand and a cheese stick hanging out of her mouth.
“I’m saving you from becoming this cheese stick,” she says, taking a vicious bite of the mozzarella, finishing it off and tossing the wrapper on the nightstand beside the box of condoms we no longer need.
“Now, close your eyes and let me get back to work,” she says, crouching between my legs.
“After what you just did to that cheese stick, I’m afraid to be this vulnerable around you.”
She smacks my thigh, lowering her stomach into the belly pillow I got for her, hoping to ease some of the discomfort that comes with being a stomach sleeper while pregnant, but this is an excellent secondary use.
“Close your eyes and get your prize, Niklaus,” she chides, using my full first name because she knows I can’t resist her when she does. Joke’s on her though; I canneverresist her.
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble.
With my eyes closed, every brush of her skin against mine is heightened. The tearing of plastic has my ears perking. Her hot, wet tongue licks a stripe over my balls, my toes curling, muscles clenching tight, and a gravel-filled groan climbs up my throat. She suckles my balls, swirling the tip of her tongue over the sensitive skin. I hear something like beads pouring from a packet, and my brow wrinkles.
Her mouth leaves me for only a moment, my senses being divided by the smell of her wet pussy, dripping and aching for me, her arousal coating my cheeks from earlier, and something distinctly sugary sweet and fruity like green apples. There’s a fizzing, popping sound, and my eyes burst open as she stares up at me with striking, round cognac eyes, her tongue sticking out, coated with popping candy.
She doesn’t give me a chance to speak before she has the tip of my cock on her tongue, lighting?—
“Sweets!” I shriek. “She’s gonna get a bloody yeast infection, Elijah! Is this really what turns people on?!”
His rumbling laughter fills the room, warming my chest, and I aimlessly rub at the spot. “This author is one of my favourites. She’s a women’s health physician associate in real life, and she makes sure to write realistic scenes. I can assure you that she’ll be washing his dick and balls before they go anywhere near Kelsey’s”—he cups his jaw, scratching at the blond scruff, his Adam's apple bobbing on a swallow—“nether regions.”
I burst into laughter, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as I gasp for air, my earlier nausea and pain all but forgotten. He joins in with me, his body shaking against mine as he realises what he’s said andhow.
“God,” he pants out, still chuckling as he smacks his forehead. “We should really stop talking about this. Are you sure I can’t read you something else?”
I shake my head, a wide smile stretching my lips. It’s so unfamiliar, as is much of what I experience in Elijah’s company. Our laughter fizzles out, and I find my shoulder squished against his, but I make no move to change that, loving that I don’t recoil from his touch like I do with most people.
I suppose I was right when I thought I might be demisexual. I’d always had an inkling, but since I’d never given myself the time or opportunity to grow emotionally attached to anyone, there wasn’t much of a way to tell. Living with Elijah—allowing him into my safe little bubble—combined with his massive heart, his ability to make me laugh even in the worst of times, his incredible cooking, and his handsome features, might just be what I’ve needed to put that theory to the test.
We remain like this for the rest of the night, our bodies pressing closer until I’m practically lying on top of him, my lidsgrowing heavy to the soft sound of his voice as he continues to read to me.
I stir, blinking groggily as my body becomes weightless, my heart dropping to my toes for just a second before I realise I’m anchored to a hard, warm chest. Elijah’s heart beats in a steady rhythm against my ear, and I know it’s him, carrying me to bed. He lowers me down, taking his time as he unfolds blanket after blanket, arranging them on top of me with precision. He leaves the door open, light from the kitchen filtering in. Annoyance bubbles inside me, but he quickly extinguishes it, returning with a tumbler of water that he places on my bedside table.
“Thank you,” I whisper, watching in delight as his cheeks pinken when he notices he’s been caught.
“Goodnight, Adhira,” he whispers back, blowing me a kiss that leaves my stomach fluttering as he exits, the door closing behind him. Nightmares about my mortality do not consume me tonight; they're replaced by dreams of a stunning man reading me books while his little sisters prepare a tea party for us.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
My foot bounceson the linoleum floor, halting only once Dr. Alvarez knocks on the door, poking her head into the exam room. “Adhira, so good to see you,” she says, her easy smile giving nothing away as she shuts the door behind her and pulls up a chair, taking a seat in front of me rather than looming over me like the Grim Reaper.
Prior to these last few months, I’d never known it was possible to feel equal parts overjoyed and crippled with relentless anxiety.
Now that I’m experiencing it, I can say I’d like to return this newfound ability because the combination of the two leaves my head fuzzy and my soul aching for release.
“I’m hoping it’s good to see you too,” I tell her, my trimmed nails digging into my leggings-clad thighs.
She crosses one leg over the other. Perfectly curled, thick waves hang over her shoulders, and her light-blue blouse shifts with the change in posture. “I don’t want you to worry, okay?”
I give her a tight nod. “If it’s bad news, I’d rather skip over the pleasantries, if that’s alright with you. I’m sorry if that’s rude, but I’m dying here, and hopefully not literally.”
