Page 34 of Clean Sweep
Three weeks of no sex. Three weeks of not seeing her, smelling her, tasting her.
Too fucking long.
I deposited her on the bed, covering her with my body, my lips finding hers.
We came together, a desperate, dirty mess of grasping limbs, gasping breath and glorious release.
After, we lay together, side-by-side on the bed. Both of us panting as we came down off a fucking incredible high.
"Never doing three weeks again," Laura muttered, her eyes closed.
"Thank fudge for that."
She chuckled; eyes still closed. "I brought you a present."
I perked up, finding energy I thought she'd drained. "Present?"
She chuckled, rolling to her side. "It's in my purse."
I went downstairs, finding her discarded purse and carrying it back to the room. When she said purse, she really meant giant-fucking-handbag. Honestly, it was like Mary Poppins had handed over her magic tricks. We'd once blown two tires and spent over four hours on the side of the road waiting for AAA. The woman had produced food, clean wipes and a miraculous amount of entertainment for our sons from the depths of that thing.
I handed it over. "Is it sexy?" I asked, hopefully.
"Not quite," she tugged a small wrapped gift free, handing it over.
I shook it, listening. "It doesn't jingle. Or bark."
"Nope," she said, smiling.
"Hmm, so it's not a pony?"
"Sadly, no."
"Damn," I ran a finger along the edge of the wrapping paper, ripping it clean through. She watched, biting her lip as I pulled the cloth free. I shook it out, blinking as I registered the tiny onesie. A onesie that read; My Daddy owns Thor's Shipbuilding.
I looked from the onesie, down to Laura, back to the onesie then back to Laura.
"Queenie, does this mean…?"
She nodded, a grin bursting across her face. "Turns out I didn't have the stomach flu while in New York."
I fisted the material, dropping to pull her to me. "Are you okay? How do you feel? Shit, do we need to schedule a doctor? How far along are you?"
She laughed, holding me close.
"Erik, it's gonna be fine. We're only about eight weeks along. I've scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. I've had a little nausea in the mornings but nothing crazy."
I bent, pressing a kiss to her mouth. "Queenie, I don't know what to say."
"Are you happy?"
"Fucking ecstatic," I pressed another kiss to her mouth, then another. Somehow more turned on by the knowledge I'd planted a baby in her. The blood of my ancestors sung through my veins demanding I celebrate by branding this woman.
She. Is. Mine.
This time I paid closer attention to her body, noticing subtle changes. Her breasts were more sensitive. Her body more responsive.
I rolled her so she could ride me, watching her breasts bounce, her body move as she rode us to victorious release.
