Pleasure reaches every inch of my body.
My skin is alive with it.
I rock my hips and move with it as he fucks me.
The world ceases to exist while my husband gives me everything I need.
My body jerks and my pussy clenches as my orgasm hits.
I’m lost to it, barely aware of what’s happening around me while I let it consume me.
And then, a scream pierces the morning and I’m completely aware of everything.
My eyes snap open as Donovan curses and jolts up off the bed. A second later, he’s pulling on pants and striding out of our bedroom.
Shit.
I move off the bed and find my underwear and one of Donovan’s T-shirts. Dressing quickly, I leave the bedroom and make my way into our daughter’s room.
Elizabeth, our four-year-old, has been having nightmares the last week and often wakes screaming. When I reach her room, I find Donovan with her in his arms while she clings to him sobbing.
“You’re okay,” Donovan says quietly, soothingly as he strokes her hair gently. “It was just a dream, baby girl.”
My heart constricts.
I hate that she’s having these bad dreams and feeling them so deeply.
I move to them and place my hand on her back while pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re okay, baby.”
She lifts her face and looks at me. Heaving through her sobs, she gets out, “There was a scary dog. It was mean.”
Donovan continues stroking her hair and I continue rubbing her back.
When she appears to have settled, I ask, “Would you like me to make you a hot chocolate, baby?”
She nods her head a couple of times before burying her face back in her father’s neck and clinging to him tighter.
Donovan meets my gaze and I nod at his wordless communication. He’s going to spend another five or so minutes in here with her and then bring her out for her drink. This has become our standard routine whenever she has one of these nightmares. Elizabeth only wants her father when she’s this distraught and I don’t blame her. Donovan has a reassuring presence when I’m upset too. He calms with a touch. A look. A press of his lips to the forehead.
I leave them and go into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. An odd choice of drink in the middle of the December heat, but it is always Elizabeth’s request when she’s looking for comfort. Probably because her father introduced her to it after she fell and hurt her arm badly last year.
Our daughter is a true daddy’s girl. Anything he says, does, or teaches is gobbled up by her. I’ve learned that if I want her to do something, the quickest way is through him.
It takes him longer than five minutes to coax her out of his arms this morning. Ten minutes pass before they join me in the kitchen.
Donovan’s eyes find mine as he enters the room still holding her. Then, looking at her, he shifts his hands to take hold of her and deposit her on the floor. She comes straight to me. Reaching her little arms up, she says, “Mummy.”
I smile as I lift her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “Did Daddy scare the dreams away?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Good.” I kiss her cheek. “Are you ready for your drink?”
At her nod, I put her down and say, “Sit at the table, baby.”
I watch Donovan leave the kitchen as Elizabeth hops up on a chair at the kitchen table. I hear him talking with Sawyer and Keaton in the lounge room and sigh. I should have woken up faster this morning. I’m not getting sex now.
I spend the next fifteen minutes occupying the kids with a cartoon in the lounge room and thinking about what I’ll make them for breakfast while Donovan showers and gets ready for work. I’m not working today due to the school holidays. I’m taking the kids to the beach with Harlow, Madison, and their kids. I’m both looking forward to it and wishing we were just staying home. It’s a massive effort taking that many children to a busy beach in the December school holidays. Especially when I’m already exhausted and could nap for a thousand hours today.
