Chapter 7
SEVEN
The house was still. Quiet in that rare, sacred kind of way. Both kids were down for their afternoon nap, full off grilled cheese, apple slices and breast milk, knocked out in their beds like they’d been drugged. We had at least an hour, if we were lucky.
And I couldn’t stop looking at him.
Lucky was on the weight bench, back glistening under the soft light, muscles flexing with every press. He had on some black mesh shorts that clung to his thighs just right, no shirt, just skin and tattoos and sweat and that little grin he gave me when he knew I was watching.
“You gon’ keep staring like that, lover girl?” he’d asked, not even looking up. “Or you gon’ come over here and help me stretch?”
He knew what he was doing. Knew damn well I was weak for him, especially when he worked out.
Next thing I knew, I was straddling him, knees planted on either side of his hips, palms on his chest, dress pushed up around my waist, no panties in sight.
He’d pulled his shorts down just enough, looked up at me with those dark eyes, and said, “Sit down on it then.” So I did.
Slow. Taking every inch until my breath caught and my thighs trembled and his jaw went tight.
And now we were here.
The weight bench creaked underneath us as I rocked my hips slowly, rolling forward and back in a slow grind, feeling every ridge of him drag against my walls.
His hands gripped my thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh like he needed to ground himself.
His gold chain clinked against his collarbone, catching the light every time his chest heaved. His eyes never left my face.
“You tryna send me to Jesus early?” he muttered, voice thick and gritty. “This how you gone do me, baby?”
“I was just tryna see somethin’,” I breathed, circling my hips slower, pulling almost all the way off him before sinking back down just to feel him stretch me open again.
“Oh, you saw it,” he groaned, hips lifting just enough to meet me halfway, driving himself deeper on the upstroke. “Now you feelin’ it too.”
I bit my lip, nails digging into his chest as I found my rhythm, rising and falling, thighs burning, the wet sound of us moving together filling the room every time I came down on him.
“Look at me,” he said, voice lower now.
I did. And the look on his face? It was the kind of worship that made your soul feel full. Made you forget the way your body changed. Made you remember you were still her. Still the one.
“That’s it,” he grunted, hands sliding up to grip my hips, guiding me into a deeper roll. “Right there, Jream. Just like that. You feel how this body still fits me? Still mine.”
“Lucky…”
“I said look at me, baby.”
I locked eyes with him again, hips moving faster now, taking him over and over, his name slipping from my lips in soft broken moans that bounced off the walls.
He sat up beneath me without warning, arms wrapping tight around my waist, mouth pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along my throat, tongue dragging up to my pulse point.
“I want all of you,” he whispered against my skin, teeth grazing my collarbone. “Just like this. Always.”
Then his arms locked around me and he stood, muscles flexing hard beneath my thighs, feet planted, and before I could catch my breath he rolled his hips up into me once, sharp and deep, and I cried out against his jaw.
“You love me?” I whispered, forehead pressed to his as he bounced me in his grip, each controlled thrust driving up into me at an angle that hit so deep my vision blurred. Soft, broken sounds spilled from my lips with every stroke.
“I love you real bad, my baby,” he rasped, eyes locked on mine, one hand palming the back of my head, the other gripping my ass to control the pace.
My head tilted back, a moan spilling out that wasn’t meant for God’s ears.
He took me to the wall first, pressing my back flat against it, using the leverage to drive into me harder, each thrust punching the air from my lungs. The smack of skin and the creak of the wall and the wet heat between us turned the whole room loud.
Then he was moving again, pulling out just long enough to turn me around, bending me forward over the edge of the dresser, hands spreading my hips wide before he pushed back in from behind, slow and deliberate, filling me so completely my fingers scrambled for something to hold.
I caught my own reflection in the mirror. Him behind me. Chest to my back. Hand sliding around to my stomach, then lower, fingers finding my clit and rubbing slow, tight circles while he stroked in and out at that same unhurried pace that made my knees buckle.
Then we were on the floor. Him on his back, pulling me down on top of him again, hands guiding my hips into a roll, whispering, “Take it. Take all of it,” while I rode him with my palms flat on his chest and my thighs shaking on either side of him.
He wanted all of it. All of me.
And I gave it to him, arms wrapped around his neck when he sat up beneath me, nails dragging down his back as he drove up into me, angling just right, finding that spot deep inside with the precision of a man who had memorized every inch of me.
“I love you,” I panted, dizzy, undone, his thickness stroking that same place over and over until my whole body clenched around him. “Lucky, I love you so much it’s stupid.”
“Then say it,” he growled in my ear, one hand fisting in my hair, tilting my head back. “Say it while I’m deep in this pretty pussy, Jream. Say you mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped, clenching tight around him, feeling him throb in response. “Always. I’m?—“
I didn’t mean to say it then. Not like that. But it slipped out, ragged and trembling, right in the middle of the heat of him buried to the hilt inside me.
“I’m pregnant.”
His whole body stilled.
Every muscle locked. His hips stopped. His breath stopped. For a second, all you could hear was the sound of both of us breathing; harsh, broken, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief.
His grip on me tightened. Both arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him, holding me there with him still deep inside, not moving, just holding. Just breathing. Just reminding me I was safe. Still with him. Still everything he ever wanted.
Then slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at me. Really look at me.
His chest rose and fell, heartbeat pounding against mine. “Say it again,” he said, but this time his voice cracked down the middle.
I touched his face, cupped his jaw, lips trembling. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes welled up fast. That raw, unfiltered emotion cracked across his face before he could blink it back.
A laugh broke from his lips, half-shocked, half-emotional, the kind that shook his whole chest. “You serious? You swear to God?”
“I took the test yesterday,” I nodded, tears spilling now too. “Monee made me take one with her as a joke and mine came back positive too.”
He let out a sound that was part groan, part laugh, part something too soft to name. And then he kissed me, deep and slow and worshipful, lips moving over mine like he was trying to say everything at once.
He didn’t stop kissing me. Didn’t stop holding me like I was the most delicate, precious thing in the world, even with my legs still locked around him and his hands still full of me. His forehead dropped to mine, lips barely brushing, eyes glassy.
“Damn, baby… we really gon’ do this again?”
His voice was low. Heavy. Not from stress but from reverence.
Awe. That same tone he used the first time he held Lucky Jr. That same tone he had when he watched Jenie come into the world and said thank you for choosing me.
That same tone now, whispering against my cheek like he was afraid if he said it too loud the moment would shatter.
I nodded into his neck, arms still around him, voice soft. “Yeah… we really are.”
His chest rumbled as he exhaled, still inside me, still thick, still pulsing with his heartbeat. “You keep tryna turn me into a daddy on daddy on daddy, huh?”
I giggled through a tear. “You make it easy.”
He kissed the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then the spot below my ear that made my toes curl . “You make me proud to be everything I am.”
And then he started moving again, his pelvis meeting mine with a soft pressure that made my breath catch on every push.
He held one of my legs higher, opening me up just enough that every time he slid in I felt him in my stomach, felt the sweet ache of being filled completely.
His mouth stayed at my throat, kissing and breathing against my skin, murmuring things too low and broken to be words but loud enough to mean everything.
The kind of rhythm that made your soul stretch out and exhale.
The kind of motion that wrote poems into your body and made lullabies out of moans.
Each thrust unhurried, each withdrawal slow enough that I felt every ridge, every vein, the thick flared head of him catching at my entrance before he pressed back in.
His hand drifted between us, two fingers finding my clit, rubbing soft, tight circles that made my hips jerk up to meet him.
My thighs shook. My nails found his back again, raking slow furrows down his spine as the pressure built low in my belly, coiling tighter with every stroke, every circle, every exhale of his breath warm against my collarbone.
“Lucky—“ His name came out broken.
“I got you,” he breathed. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”
And I did. I bit down on his shoulder when it crested, muffling the sound of his name against his skin as I clenched around him, thighs locking at his hips, whole body shuddering through it while he kept moving, kept those slow deep strokes carrying me through every wave until I was limp and trembling beneath him.
He followed with his mouth pressed to my throat, my name on his lips, a low groan that vibrated against my pulse as he pushed in deep one last time and held there, his whole body shuddering, his hands gripping my hips like an anchor while he spilled warm and slow inside me.
No matter how my body changed. No matter how many babies we made. No matter what the world had to say, this man would always love me in every version I became.
We lay tangled in each other, his big hand resting on my stomach now like he already felt the heartbeat inside.
“You think it’s another girl?” I murmured against his chest.
He chuckled. “I think it’s another reason to love you harder.”
And just like that, I fell again.
Still his.
Always his.
Even when I forgot how to feel beautiful, he reminded me. Not with compliments but with care. With touch. With truth.
Lucky Bleu wasn’t just my husband; he was my mirror. And right now, all I saw in his eyes… was a woman worthy of everything she was about to become.