Page 1 of Merrily Yours

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“There’s something about a Christmas sweater that will always make me laugh.” — Kristen Wiig

“Your dick is in my ass.”

“Good God, Baby Bardot. You can’t say shit like that before I’ve had coffee.” Anders reaches around and rubs my protruding belly. “Also, my dick is not in your ass, but it can be. Just say the word,” he mumbles, snuggling even closer.

“Okay, so it’s notinmy ass, but it is hard and you remember the second trimester horniness. I’ve been awake for an hour, waiting for you to put me out of my misery!”

His hand slides down my stomach and closer to exactly where I want him. He teases the hem of my panties causing my thighs to rub together searching for that delicious friction my body craves. “My poor wifey,” he whispers as his fingers come further down, tracing the inside of my thigh.

I arch back into him, rubbing said ass over his morning wood, silently begging for release. I’m almost twenty-two weeks pregnant and the hormones are raging. But I’ll take second trimester horniness over first trimester nausea any day.

“El still sleeping?” he asks, referring to our one year old. I nod in answer—she’s an incredibly sound sleeper.

I found out I was pregnant the first time the day Anders had his Broadway debut. It was one of the best days of our life, and I still can’t believe we have a daughter. She’s perfect—of course she is. Except for her lack of red hair, which I constantly give Anders shit about. We weren’t exactly trying for Elodie, but we weren’t exactly preventing either. An unexpected joy, just like a lot of our life together.

Then, four months ago, we found out about another unexpected surprise. We really should find a better birth control option…

Anders finally gives in, breaking me out of my thoughts by running a single finger from my opening up to my clit. “Fuck, yes. Please, more.” All it takes is that one touch and incoherent words are tumbling out.

“You’ve always been so pretty when you beg,” Anders’ lips whisper against the shell of my ear, and my whole body shudders. His tongue charts a path down my neck, biting where it meets my shoulder and pushing his finger into me at the same time.

I moan, grinding down onto his finger, gasping when he curls it. Unsurprisingly, Anders has spent the last four years meticulously studying my body. The thing that did surprise me, however, is that every time we are together like this it gets better and better. You hear about how your love grows the longer you are with someone—my parents are a sickening example of that—but no one talks about how the sex keeps getting better too.

Well, Mom probably has said that before, but I try to tune her out when she starts talking about the joys of sex.

Anders pulls me back to the moment with another nip to my ear. I push back into him and revel in the increasingly frantic pace his finger is setting. He pulls out and circles my clit once, twice, before reaching past me to grab our favorite toy out of the nightstand drawer—a bullet vibrator I named Buzz Lightyear. Anders had a good laugh at that.

He quickly strips his boxers off, and then does the same with my underwear. I start to turn to face him, but he stops me. “I want cuddle sex,” he says, positioning me back on my side so I can be the little spoon.

“You love cuddle sex.”

“I love any sex with you, baby, but yes, I do love cuddle sex. Your belly is so cute—I don’t want to disturb it.”

I laugh at that. “Disturb it?”

He turns the vibrator on and positions it over my clit, effectively silencing me. “Yes, disturb the baby. Or hurt them. Can I hurt them when I have sex with you? You are so strong, yet also seem so delicate when you’re pregnant.” He kisses my shoulder softly as if to punctuate that statement.

Shaking my head, I reply, “You won’t hurt the baby. Also, can I tell you what it is?—”

“Don’t you dare!” He pulls the vibrator off as punishment for even suggesting that I might spoil the gender surprise for him. “You know I want to find out as my Christmas present!” he grumbles.

I am a terrible secret keeper, and this has been the hardest secret to keep since finding out the sex of the baby at our anatomy scan a week ago. I had to find out with Elodie. As a first time mom there was enough change, I couldn’t also deal with the unknown of what was growing in my stomach.

This time, I wanted to find out, Anders wanted to keep it a surprise. We finally compromised, deciding that I could surprise him as his Christmas present, but I’m dying to spill!

Grabbing his hand and moving it back where I want it, I reluctantly agree to keep my lips zipped a little longer. “Okay, killer. I won’t spoil it for you. Promise.”

I’m rewarded with a searing kiss as Anders continues to work me closer and closer to the edge. I tilt my hips and reach behind me to position him at my entrance. It takes a little finagling, but this has been our favorite position ever since I started to really show a few weeks ago, and I know it will continue to be as the baby keeps growing.

After a moment, Anders slides in, filling me perfectly. He works in and out slowly, rhythmically, driving me to madness before slowing back down again.

“Anders!” I whine, after he does it again. “Please let me come.”

“You know I can’t resist when you ask so nicely,” he says before picking up the pace with his thrusts and the vibrator. It takes mere seconds for me to combust, and he quickly follows into orgasmic bliss. I feel exhilarated and exhausted all at once, and I could definitely fall back asleep now. “Go pee before you fall back asleep,” Anders warns, reading my mind as he tends to do.

“Marriage is so romantic,” I quip.

“No UTIs on my watch,” he mock salutes.