Page 79 of Surprise Package

‘Don’t come,’ he rasps, his voice sounding thick. ‘Not yet. Not until I say so.’

‘That’s like asking the sun not to rise. Or for you to pour cola over your single malt.’

He doesn’t answer, not as he stands, then unbuckles his belt. I watch avidly as he slides his pants down his strong thighs, taking himself in his hand. He slides my hand away when I move to touch him, taking my fingers in his instead.

Wordlessly, he lies on the bed, his strong back propped on the pillows as he helps me to climb over him until I’m straddling him just below his thighs. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock standing between us, hard and proud. But before I can process what’s happening, Greg slides his hand under the pillows, pulling out a length of cloth no bigger than a scarf.

‘Oh, kinky,’ I say with a giggle, even as my insides start to somersault. Sex with Greg these last few months has been an education, to say the least.

‘This is Hamley tartan,’ he says, his gaze not on the fabric but on me. On my body. ‘You’re so beautiful all of the time, but pregnancy has just made you stunning.’

‘Says the man staring at my boobs.’

‘How can I not?’ he replies, reaching and brushing a calloused thumb over my nipple. ‘They’re like ripe melons.’

I shiver, my next words husky and rasping. ‘Can we go back to the purpose of the tartan? I don’t think I like being compared to a yellow.. . ’ The rest of my sentence is lost as he splays his hand over my round stomach, his thumb dipping lower to slip between my folds. As he pets my clit, his gaze is avidly glued to where I’m shamelessly spread.

‘I think we’ll talk about your pussy instead.’

‘Greg, don’t tease,’ I mewl, rotating into his touch.

‘Do you trust me?’ he whispers. ‘Trust me with more than your body?’

‘I trust you with my life.’

With that, he takes my right hand, pressing my palm against his as he begins wrapping the fabric between our wrists in the shape of an infinity sign.

‘I know you’re not ready to commit to me right now, but I want you to know you’re mine, and I’m never going to let you go. I don’t care about getting a ring on your finger or the ceremony or what people think, I just need you to belong to me. Will you, Isobel, darlin’? Will you belong to me?’

He looks so earnest and true. At least, he does until I can’t see him anymore for my tears because I desperately want to belong to him, too.

Everything around us falls away to nothingness. The sounds of the traffic outside die away, the faint hum of the boiler in the bathroom. There is only us, palm to palm, fingers entwined in our own handfasting ceremony, it would seem.

With his free hand, Greg spreads his fingers under my bottom, directing me up and onto his hardness. He grunts, watching my body accept his as my back bows in a silent urge for him to thrust, but the slow slide of him is sublime, my core tightening and flexing, desperate to feel the thick length of him hard and fast.

‘These are the hands of your lover,’ he whispers roughly, sliding his thumb across my clit. ‘And I promise to love you today, tomorrow, and forever.’

‘Greg.. . ’ His words undo me, his touch, too, as I lean into him, our entwined fingers tightening.

‘My hands will work alongside yours to build our future. They will love you passionately—and often—and they will cherish and comfort you like no other.’

I cry out as he fills me to his hilt. I tighten my hand on his biceps as though I could keep him—as though I could hold onto the sensation of being filled.

‘These hands will hold our children, joining our family as one. And when they’re wrinkled with age, they’ll still be reaching for yours.’

Words cease, his breath tight as I lean forward, mashing my lips against his. I grab the headboard behind him, sliding back and forth, my slickness coating his shaft as I begin to chant my love.

My orgasm, once a fluttering, pulsing tease, springs to life at his powerful thrusts, no longer skirting just out of reach. Everything inside me draws tight, my spine an impossible arch as I throw my head back. I want to watch, want to see the slide of him but content myself with his touch. It’s all too much as I give in to him—give in to the needs of my body. Give in to the need of my love.

The End