I slide two fingers lower, carefully inserting them one at a time alongside my dick.
She gasps, slowing her movements. “Holy shit. Oh fuck.”
“You can take it,” I grit out.
She whimpers. “It’s so much. You’re so big.”
Apparently, my cock has a praise kink, jolting at the compliment. I thrust up into her once, then I still.
“Yesss,” she hisses. “More.”
Spurred on by her breathy pleas, I repeat the motion a second time, and a third, until she’s meeting me thrust for thrust. I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her flush against my chest, continuing the onslaught as I take her mouth in a sinful kiss. She twines one arm behind my head, the other hand palming her belly.
Our breaths mingle as our sweat-soaked bodies writhe in tandem. “Griffin. Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
“That’s it. Take it all, baby girl. Milk my cock.”
The gruff words trigger her orgasm—toes curling and body convulsing as she screams out her release.
My own climax tears through me like an avalanche, colors exploding behind my eyelids as I fill her with my cum. I watch in the mirror as it leaks out around my shaft, still buried to the hilt.
She collapses against my chest, and I hold her there, relishing the feel of her weight on me.
I’ll never get enough of this woman. Not in this lifetime or any other. She’s the other half of my soul.
I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“We still have to get ready for the baby shower,” she says.
I roll us onto our sides and gently pull out. “Five more minutes. Let me spoil my wife before everybody else gets the chance.”
Angelina
There’s nothing quite like a Hayes party; this family never misses a chance to celebrate in a big way. I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of one of those celebrations. It’s both heartwarming and overwhelming all at once.
Between the three of us, we managed to compile a guest list of about forty people—most of whom are Hayes or Hayes adjacent. November in Oak Ridge can be anywhere from sunny and seventy-five to downright frigid, so we decided to have the shower in the wedding barn to cover our bases.
We opted for a more non-traditional co-ed affair. Most of Olivia’s family will be here, along with Callie’s sister and niece, and Caroline and Shawn. I wish my parents could attend, but it seemed silly to invite them. What would they do? Hop on an intercontinental flight just for their daughter’s baby shower? That would be ridiculous. It makes way more sense for them to visit after the baby is born, though we haven’t discussed any details yet.
The space is beautifully decorated with fabric draping between the beams and a massive ivory-and-sage balloon arch with greenery and baby’s breath woven throughout.
Several tables are set up around the area, draped in vintage lace tablecloths and floral centerpieces. There are three separate gift tables with children’s books and pens for the guests to sign—Callie’s idea—in lieu of a guestbook.
Olivia’s dessert trailer is set up outside the barn doors with tons of sweet treats and baked goods, and there’s a buffet of finger foods and a massive charcuterie board off to the side of theroom. All of it is calling to me like a siren song now that I’m actually able to keep my food down.
Callie and Olivia both look effortlessly beautiful, wearing sage green and pastel pink, respectively. I opted for a comfortable white off-the-shoulder sweater dress, but I’d much rather be at home in one of Griffin’s shirts with my hair in a bun and a pint of ice cream on my lap. I can’t wait to hold my baby in my arms and nevereverdo this again.
Some women are born for this; I don’t think I’m one of them. Pregnancy is great in theory, and the result will be worth it, but in practice, it’s a nightmare. I regularly want to punch Griffin in the dick so he can be miserable with me, and it’s not even his fault. He’s an innocent bystander, guilty by proximity.
Violent impulses aside, I’ve grown somewhat attached to that particular appendage. My body is hyper-sensitive, and I’m horny 24/7. I didn’t realize cravings could include regular orgasms, but I’m not complaining. Griffin’s as thorough with satisfying this craving as he was with the sourdough.
Before everyone arrives, Evelyn gathers us all together for a quick photoshoot in the barn. I stand on the left with Olivia in the middle and Callie to her right. If our general appearances weren’t so wildly different, we’d resemble a pregnancy bump progress photo. It’s ridiculous, but I’m grateful I don’t have to go through this alone. We’ve created a sisterhood of sorts, much to the dismay of the men in our lives.
Evelyn snaps a few photos of the three of us, then she prompts Jaxon, Griffin, and Wilder to join.
Halfway through the photoshoot, Callie palms her lower back and winces. “I hate you,” she grumbles at Jaxon. “You couldn’t just give me one baby. Your fucking super sperm just had to show off.”
Jaxon chuckles and wraps his arms around her from behind. His hands cradle her bump, and he slowly lifts.
