Page 2 of Sex, Love & Lingerie

“Now for my favorite part,” he mumbled against me.

I knew what was coming. On my next heated breath, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the pit of my navel; it had expanded to the size of a quarter. It was the thing I despised most about pregnancy; my belly button used to be such a cute little innie (and I prayed it would go back to that state), but Jaime adored the way it was now. Wide and inviting. For him, it was the base of the two love lines that connected to the ever-growing lifeforms inside me. Our twins. Moaning, he languidly swirled his tongue inside it. The erotic sensation and sound sent me flying. Satisfied, he laved his warm vessel back up to my mouth, lapping the super-sensitive crook of my neck while his deft hand caressed my tender pussy.

“Oh, God,” I cried out as carnal pleasure rushed to my core.

“Angel, you’re always so fucking hot and wet for me,” he breathed into my ear as my right hand flew to his shoulder for support.

“Only for you, my love,” I moaned back as his deft fingers made their way to my clit, circling it hard and fast the way I liked it. His magnificent cock was swelling, getting bigger against me. In my highly aroused state, I managed to reach for it with my other hand. I clamped my long fingers around the hot velvety thick shaft, stroking it up and down, applying more pressure and speed with each stroke. My rapid pants accompanied my hand movements, speeding up as they did.

He squeezed his eyes and groaned with mutual pleasure. Tortuous pleasure equal to mine. “Oh, baby, you’re doing it just right. You’re making me so fucking hard.”

Electricity coursed through me as I felt his heated cock elongate and thicken in my palm. His greedy mouth made contact with every ounce of my flesh it could latch on to. My breathing shallow and my temperature soaring, I was losing myself in him, my overheated body readying itself for a mind-blowing orgasm. The intense pressure was building, every cell buzzing with anticipation, want, and need. Sex with Jaime had not diminished while being pregnant. In fact, it had gotten better, as if better was possible. Lately though, so close to giving birth, we’d slowed down a bit, discovering that slow and steady could be mind-blowing too. My overprotective, controlling husband was afraid of hurting the fetuses. Our babies. While Dr. Bernstein said not to worry and we could do it as hard and as long as we wished, Jaime wanted to play it on the cautious side. Even though he wasn’t fucking me, this wasn’t what I would call slow and steady. We’d gotten carried away.

A heartbeat away from exploding, my cell phone rang. My distinct ringtone, an excerpt from the eighties hit song, “Gloria,” sounded repeatedly. Calling Gloria.

“Fuck!” muttered a relentless Jaime. “Don’t answer it.”

“I have to,” I moaned with regret. “It could be an emergency.”

Later today, we were taping the annual Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show. It was going to air in the evening on a major television network and simulcast live on SIN-TV, the adult entertainment cable network which Jaime’s best friend, Blake Burns, founded and headed. I adored Blake. Like Jaime, he was cocky, smart—and controlling—and as big of a player as Jaime had once been. Rumor had it he’d fucked all of our Gloria’s Secret supermodels at one time or another. He’d always coveted my business. However, he wasn’t going to get my advertising dollars until he came up with a block of programming that appealed to my female 18-49 demographic. I kept telling him women watched erotica, not porn, and that he should hire someone, preferably a shrewd female exec who understood the popularity of steamy romance novels. With my successful line of BDSM-inspired lingerie and sex toys, an erotic block could be a great fit. Blake, however, didn’t believe me and kept complaining to Jaime, who handled his network’s media campaigns, that his daytime ratings were in the toilet. To me, the answer was simple. Stay-at-home women didn’t watch SIN-TV. They were looking for something beyond twelve-inch dicks in your face. They craved romantic fantasies. I knew that for a fact.

The phone kept ringing. I fumbled for it on my night table with my free hand and eyed the caller ID on the screen: Kevin Riley, my beloved and trusted head of PR. I put the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Kev. Is everything okay?” I panted into the phone. Jaime was not giving up. “Stop!” I mouthed at him. He smirked and circled my clit harder. Forget it! And moreover, Mr. Persistent wasn’t going to let me stop stroking his cock. He placed his hand over mine so I couldn’t. Confession: I didn’t want him to stop nor did I want to stop. We were both so close to coming. Squirming with a roll of my eyes, I tried to focus on Kevin’s call.

“Glorious, there’s a fucking flood in the space where we’re taping the show.” And there’s a fucking flood in the space between my legs where Jaime was about to take all of me. And a fire too! “The dress rehearsal has been postponed until they clean up the mess. We may even have to relocate.”

One word: “Shit.” This was not good news, but Kevin had handled a lot bigger problems and they always got fixed. I loved my Kev as much as I loved Jaime, but differently. A lifelong friend, we had been through thick and thin together, and we had even saved each other’s lives from the pink-eyed monster, Boris Borofsky.

Yet, I was still concerned since this was a new venue, and I didn’t know what to expect. We had always held the much-anticipated Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show in New York at the venerable Lexington Avenue Armory on the day before Valentine’s Day. But due to my late stage pregnant state, Dr. Bernstein had insisted I not fly. I’d protested. Only one word from Jaime had convinced me to follow her orders—turbulence. Something that terrified me. Hence, we were holding it for the first time in Los Angeles at state-of-the-art Smashbox Studios in Culver City, not far from our headquarters. It turned out to be a good thing too. The snowy weather conditions in New York were so bad the show would have likely been canceled.

“I’ll be there soon,” I told Kevin, asking him to phone or text me right away if anything else came up before ending the call.

“Is everything okay?” asked a concerned Jaime, releasing my hand from his cock and his finger from my clit.

I shook my head. “I’ve got a big problem. The studio is flooded. It’s a total mess.”

“That sucks.” Jaime dusted my chin with the tip of my long braid. This was one of his many little affectionate gestures that always affected me.

“I’ve got to get over to Smashbox right away.”

“Let’s finish what we started in the shower.”

“I can’t. I don’t have time,” I countered unconvincingly as he tickled my chin again with my braid.

“C’mon. You know things always turn out okay.” Jaime scrambled off the bed, and before I could say another word, he gathered me in his loving arms.

“What are you doing?” I screamed.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m carrying my princess off into the horizon for our next activity.”

“I weigh too much!” I protested, trying hard not to laugh.

“Nah.” He took a step and then without warning, he let out a deep groan and his legs began to buckle. His face scrunched up as if he was in terrible pain.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” He continued to groan and sway. “Baby, talk to me!” Oh God, we were both going to go down! The babies too!

“Gotcha!” He burst into a clap of laughter.

I pounded his chest. “You cocky beautiful bastard!”

“Shut up!” And with that, my amazing husband smothered me with a fierce kiss that sent another sweeping wave of pleasure through me.

We made beautiful love in the shower. With one arm wrapped around my big belly, the hand of the other back to fingering my still throbbing clit, Jaime pummeled me slowly but purposively from behind. The multiple jets of steaming water pounded upon us, coming at us from different directions as we built toward climax.

“Are you okay, angel?” Jaime breathed against my neck, always so worried about my well-being and that of our babies.

“Yes,” I moaned back, so close to coming. I knew he was too, by his harsh breaths and his pulsing cock that filled me with love.

“Angel,” he cried out as I watched us orgasm together in the wall-to-wall bathroom mirror through the steamed-up glass shower door. I arched my back and cried out his name in sweet relief as I came around his explosive length. Jaime’s name meant “I love” in French. I loved this man and he loved me. My husband, my lover, and the soon-to-be father of my children. Our children. My pulse still in overdrive, I glanced down at the magnificent two-stone diamond ring he’d given me. Two glistening hearts entwined like lovers. An eternal toi et moi. As he nuzzled my neck and whispered sweet words of love in my ear, I knew one thing. Even with a pending fashion show disaster, Jaime Zander was my forever.

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