It’s late, so we make for the bedroom. I tire so easily these days. We’ve been out for dinner with Mo and his friend Will, or Lord Travers, if you want to get technical. I also got to meet Sadie, Will’s lovely wife. Dinner was good, but the discussion was even better. It seems Will is looking for someone to help him market the family castle that has just been turned into a place where corporate types go to live wild.All in the name of team building.
Tourism isn’t strictly my wheelhouse, but I think I might be able to help him out. Possibly even establish a business of my own in Scotland.
Come on, Izzy. You’re getting ahead of yourself here.
‘You look like you’re having a conversation with yourself.’ Greg stands in the doorway with one shoulder resting against the frame. His shirt open and his feet bare, he totally looks like a model in a cologne commercial.
‘I was just thinking about what Will said. The offer, I mean.’
‘Are you considering it, then?’
‘Well, I don’t love my job. And I don’t like it when you’re not with me.’
In a couple of long strides, he’s in front of me, dropping to his knees. ‘I’ve told you, darlin’, I’ll move to London if that’s what you want. I hate when the weekends are over and we have to part. I can’t wait until this little one is born so we can be together always.’ He places his hands on my swollen belly, his lips following suit.
‘It’s only for my maternity leave,’ I whisper, though there’s a distinct lack of conviction in my tone.
‘Fuck maternity leave.’ With his lips on my belly, his wicked gaze climbs up my body, making my nipples tight and my insides fluttery. ‘I’m keepin’ you.’
‘Stop it. You’ll wake the baby. I don’t need the added internal aerobics that start when we get a little frisky.’
‘Frisky?’ Greg questions laughingly.
‘Gah!See, I’ve turned into a parent already.’
‘You’re the yummiest of mummies, and you can’t help being mad for me.’
‘Mad for being with you, maybe.’
He stands then, taking my hands and helping me up from the edge of the bed. Then he pulls my shirt over my head.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s bedtime, is it no’?’
His voice is suddenly roughened with need, and he bends, pressing his lips above the rise of my breasts. My breath hitches as he slides his tongue over the swell as he reaches down, sliding the band over my belly and hips, quickly followed by my jeans.
‘Why am I always the first one naked?’ I whisper.
‘Because you’re irresistible, and you’re slower than I am, and I can’t keep my hands off you.’
‘You sweet-talker, you.’
‘You think that’s sweet? How about I remind you a Scotsman likes two things naked. And only one of them is whisky.’
‘That’s not exactly nice, more like naughty,’ I whisper, sliding my hands around his neck.
‘No, darlin’. Naughty would be to tell you I want to eat you to sit on my face.’ With a deft kind of practise, he undoes my bra before hooking his thumbs into the elastic of my underwear. ‘I want you squirming all over me face, your hands pulling at my hair like you’re not sure if you want more or you want to push me away.’
‘Oh, God, yes.’
I widen my stance as Greg feeds his hand between my legs, cupping my heat as he grinds his palm into me, just how I like it, making me mewl in desperation and need.
The ladder of his abdominal muscles flex as I slip the shirt from his shoulder before he drops to his knees and slips his tongue between my legs.
One flick of his tongue and I’m already falling apart. The upside of pregnancy? Greg only has to slide me a wicked smile, and I’m fit to burst.
Hard and fast and often.
