Chapter 28 - Zara
Four months later
I wake with a start, my heart racing. For a moment, I'm disoriented, and then it hits me—the realization washing over me like a warm wave. I'm off bed rest. Finally.
"Abram!" I call out, my voice tinged with excitement. "Abram, come here!"
He appears in the doorway, concern etched on his rugged features. "What is it, Solnyshko? Is everything okay?"
I can't contain my grin. "Everything is perfect. I'm free!"
Understanding dawns in his eyes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, yes. Doctor's orders. No more bed rest."
I throw off the covers, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Help me up?"
Abram's strong hands grip mine, steadying me as I stand. My belly, now a prominent swell, throws off my balance, but I don't care. I'm standing. I'm moving.
"What should we do first?" I ask, practically bouncing on my toes.
He raises an eyebrow. "Slow down, kitten. You've been in bed for months. Let's start small."
I pout, but he's right. "Fine. A walk around the garden, then?"
Abram nods, his arm slipping around my waist. "Whatever you want, Zara. It's your day, after all."
As we step outside, the fresh air fills my lungs. I close my eyes, savoring the moment. "I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be vertical," I joke.
"Just don't overdo it," Abram warns, his protective instincts kicking in.
I lean into him, my hand finding his. "I won't. I promise."
We walk in comfortable silence, the lush garden a riot of color around us. With each step, I feel more alive, more myself.
"I can't believe you did all this," I murmur, taking in the elaborate decorations adorning the patio.
Fairy lights twinkle overhead, casting a soft glow over the intimate setting. A table for two is set with fine china and crystal and a bouquet of my favorite flowers as the centerpiece.
Abram's lips brush my temple. "You deserve it all, Zara. And more."
As the clock strikes midnight, he leads me to a small table where a decadent chocolate cake awaits, a single candle flickering atop it.
"Make a wish," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
I close my eyes, thinking of all I already have—Abram, our baby, this life we're building. What more could I possibly wish for?
But as I blow out the candle, I make a silent prayer for our future, for the family we're creating.
Abram's arms encircle me from behind, his hands resting on my swollen belly. "Happy birthday, my love."
***
The flutter in my belly catches me off guard, as it does every time the baby kicks or moves. I pause, placing my hand over the swell of my abdomen, marveling at the miracle taking shape—just two more months until I meet this tiny being who's already captured my heart.
I gaze at my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. My frame has softened, curves blossoming in places that were once mildly angular. The swell of my breasts, fuller and heavier, strains against the thin fabric of my nightgown. But it's my belly that draws my attention, round and proud, a perfect dome housing my greatest treasure.
"You've changed me in ways I never imagined," I whisper, tracing the silvery stretch marks that map my skin like constellations.
The baby kicks in response, a forceful jab that makes me gasp and laugh. "Already so strong, little one. Just like your father."
As if summoned by my thoughts, Abram's reflection appears behind me in the mirror. His powerful arms encircle my waist, hands splaying possessively over my belly.
"Happy birthday again, my love," he murmurs, nuzzling my neck. "How are my two favorite people today?"
I lean back against his broad chest, relishing his warmth. "We're perfect. Though your child seems determined to use my bladder as a punching bag."
Abram chuckles, the sound rumbling through me. "That's my boy. A fighter already."
"Or girl," I remind him, turning in his arms to face him. "We don't know for sure yet."
His stormy eyes soften as they roam over me. "Boy or girl, it doesn't matter. This child is a piece of you and me, Zara. That's all I care about."
My heart swells with love for this man who's given me everything. "I can't believe we're really doing this. That in two months, we'll be parents."
"Are you nervous?" Abram asks, his thumb caressing my cheek.
I bite my lip, considering. "A little. But mostly, I'm excited. Impatient, even. I want to hold our baby, to see whose eyes they have, whose smile."
"They'll be perfect," Abram assures me, pulling me closer. "Just like their mother."
As his lips meet mine in a tender kiss, I melt into him, overwhelmed by the depth of my love for this man and the child we've created together. He pulls back and then tells me to get dressed.
Finally, for my birthday, we’re stepping out of the house.
***
The morning sun streams through the car window, warming my face as Abram navigates the city streets. His hand rests on my thigh, a comforting weight.
"Where are we going?" I ask, curiosity bubbling inside me.
Abram's lips curl into a secretive smile. "You'll see soon enough, birthday girl."
We pull up to a sleek building in the arts district, its modern facade a stark contrast to the surrounding architecture. My heart skips a beat as Abram helps me out of the car, his strong hands steadying me.
"Close your eyes," he whispers, guiding me forward.
I hear the jingle of keys and the creak of a door opening—the air changes, cooler now, with a faint scent of fresh paint.
"Okay, open them."
I gasp, my eyes widening as I take in the space before me. Pristine white walls stretch in every direction, bathed in natural light from skylights above. The polished concrete floor gleams and I can already envision it covered in artwork.
"Abram, is this…?" I can't finish the sentence, overwhelmed by what I'm seeing.
He nods, his eyes shining with pride. "Your very own gallery, Zara. A place for your art to shine."
Tears blur my vision as I walk further into the space, my fingers trailing along the walls. It's perfect—spacious yet intimate, with alcoves for smaller pieces and a large open area for installations.
"There's a studio in the back," Abram adds softly. "For when inspiration strikes. I truly think you should paint more."
I turn to face him, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I… I don't know what to say," I stammer, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this gift. "This is… it's everything I've ever dreamed of."
Abram closes the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands. "You deserve it all, my love. Your talent, your passion—they deserve to be seen."
I lean into his touch, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Thank you," I whisper, the words feeling woefully inadequate. "I can't believe you did this for me."
"I'd do anything for you, Zara," he murmurs, his thumbs brushing away my tears. "Seeing you happy, seeing your dreams come true—that's all I want."
I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. His heartbeat echoes in my ear, steady and strong. In this moment, surrounded by the physical manifestation of his love and support, I've never felt more cherished, more understood.
And suddenly, I feel guilty. I wonder if he knows how much he means to me . I pull back, look up, and bring my hands to his cheeks, forcing him to focus on my eyes.
“Abram,” I whisper. “I fear this is too much. Your birthday is coming up, too, and I have nothing that could compare to this.”
Abram's arms encircle me, his warmth enveloping me like a cocoon. "Being with you, Zara," he murmurs into my hair, "that's the greatest gift I could ever ask for." His voice is low, husky with emotion.
I look up into his steel-grey eyes. They're soft now, filled with an adoration that makes my breath catch. "But still," I whisper, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “What can I do to show you how much I love you?”
"You're a part of me now," Abram says, his hand sliding to the small of my back. "You’re soon to be the mother of my child. There’s nothing you could ever offer to compare to the honor you’ve already bestowed upon me by agreeing to be my wife."
His words wash over me, bringing a gentle smile to my face. “Apart from being your wife,” I crack a little joke.
He chuckles, the crinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. He looks so very handsome. I rise on my tiptoes, drawn to him like a magnet. Our lips meet, soft at first, a gentle exploration. But then something shifts, ignites.
I’ve been deprived of him for four whole months. During the entirety of my bed rest, he refused to touch me beyond holding my hand. Suddenly, I feel a thirst I wasn’t even aware I had, desperate to be quenched.
“Oh, baby,” I moan into his mouth, my teeth grazing his lips.
Abram's grip tightens, pulling me flush against him. I gasp, feeling the hard planes of his body pressed to my swollen belly. The kiss deepens, becoming hungry, desperate. My fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting, claiming.
Heat blooms low in my belly, a molten pool of desire. I arch into him, craving more, always more. "Abram," I breathe against his lips, my voice trembling with need.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us panting. "Tell me what you want, my love," he growls, his eyes dark with passion.
I swallow hard, my heart racing. "You," I whisper. "Always you."
His lips crash into mine again, igniting every nerve ending in my body. Abram's hands roam my curves, reverent yet possessive, as he guides me backward toward a single chair. He sits on it and gazes up at me reverently. Slowly, his hands find the hem of my dress, and he gently pulls it up, his fingers grazing the soft skin of my thighs.
I shiver at his touch, the room around us fading away as we become lost in each other. Every brush of his fingertips against my skin sends a jolt of electricity through me, setting me on fire.
He clutches at my waist and brings me down to straddle him from the top, with my legs on either side of the chair. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his cock bulge through his pants, hitting against my panties.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, trailing a finger from my chin down to my cleavage. And then, I hear a rrrriiiip . He’s torn the fabric away, revealing my bra.
I lean forward, biting into his shoulder a little, needing to feel his skin against mine. "Please," I whimper, my body aching for his touch.
Abram's fingers trail along the outline of my breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Patience, my love," he says, his voice husky with want.
Gently, he reaches down and pushes his hand under my pussy, above his cock. He parts away elastic, and I feel his cool fingers along the length of me.
Slowly, he caresses me, sliding up the length until he parts my folds with his fingers.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing through the damp folds. "Needing me so much," he adds, his voice thick with desire.
"Yes," I moan, my hips swaying in time with his caresses. His fingers glide along my slit, stroking me until I'm on edge, desperate for more.
And then, he slides one in. I writhe beneath him, lost in a haze of pleasure. I part my feet wider, giving him more space. He grins, and I feel another finger in me. I moan, throwing back my head, riding his hand in gentle, slow waves.
And then, he does that thing I love, where he takes his thumb to my clit, massaging it in circles, while his fingers tap the walls right beneath. A pressure point forms of pure pleasure, unfathomable thrill, a dam threatening to burst open.
“Fuck,” I mewl, biting my lower lip. I hold around his neck tighter and bury my face in his shoulder, my entire body jerking from the impending orgasm threatening to blow over.
"Cum for me, my love," he growls, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "Let me feel it."
As his fingers continue their merciless dance, I start to feel the walls of my core clenching and unclenching around him in a primal rhythm.
"Abram…" I barely whisper, every word punctuated by his masterful caresses.
And then, I do. With a final desperate cry, I lean forward, clinging to him as if he is my lifeline. A wave of bliss courses through me, starting at the hallowed core and spreading outward until every inch of me is alight with pleasure.
Abram watches me intently the entire time, his eyes burning into mine with a fierce passion. He continues to stroke me until the last tremor subsides, his thumb never leaving my over-sensitive clit.
When I finally come down from my high, I collapse against him, gasping for air. He holds me close, his hand still nestled between my legs. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "There's nowhere I'd rather be than here with you."
I look up at him, my cheeks flushed and my heart swelling with love. I lean in for a kiss. His lips are strong against mine, fierce and protective.
That low heat continues to simmer in my core. I rise off the chair a little, tug down my panties just a little, and reach for his belt. His eyes widen when I slide it off. He moans, deft fingers pulling down his trousers. The boxers join soon after.
With my hands on his shoulders for support, I slide down on him gently. I feel the tip of his throbbing cock at my entrance and push down deeper. Slowly, inch by inch, I watch his face contort with pleasure until he’s wholly within me, stretching him out.
Being here like this, with him, feels like coming home. We move together, our bodies in perfect sync, the intensity building with each thrust. I slide my ass up and down, back and forth, my breasts dancing in his face, my neck thrown back with pleasure. His cock fills me completely, every stroke sending another wave of pleasure coursing through me.
Abram holds my hips tightly and begins to thrust off the chair, meeting mine with rapid movements. My skin burns where he holds me.
His hands dig deep into my flesh, pulling me closer, each thrust sending a small jolt of pain that only heightens my pleasure. His eyes lock onto mine, the passion in them a perfect reflection of mine.
"I love you," I gasp out, my voice breathy and trembling.
He responds by slamming into me harder, his eyes dark with desire and possession. "I love you too," he moans, his voice hoarse and strained with need.
Our bodies move together like two halves of a magnet, drawn to each other with an unshakable force. I dig my feet further into the ground, clutching his back with such ferocity that I fear he’ll have nail marks. I clench my pussy around him in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper.
Then, his teeth sink into my shoulder, a bite of possession. A jolt of pain-pleasure shoots through me, and I cry out. Abram's name leaves me in wounded ecstasy.
"Yes," he growls, his pace quickening.
I claw at his back, my nails digging deep as he thrusts into me deeper. Our bodies slam together over and over, though gentle, each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I close my eyes and see fireworks.
His hands caress my curves, his touch still possessive and reverent, as he pulls me tighter against him. A fevered moan escapes me, and I cry out, not in pain but sheer pleasure.
And then, it happens, just like that. The familiar tension begins to coil in my belly, tightening around him. I gasp, feeling the walls of my pussy pulsate around him in a primal rhythm.
"Abram!" I plead, my nails digging into his back even harder as the waves of pleasure crash over me. He slams up into me one last time, and my orgasm reaches its peak just as he cums in me, his sticky warmth seeping into every crevice. Breathless, spent, we sit like that, joined together, him still in me, until the last of my orgasm fades.
*****
THE END