Chapter 7 #2
I roll back over, and Merlin rudely walks across my stomach to plop down on Mirabeth’s, purring as he rubs his head on her lower belly. I’ve done the same, lying with my head on her stomach while we watch TV at night. She’s my favorite pillow.
“How’d the Zoom meeting go?” she asks while she pulls out the insert that comes with the prescription, unfolding it like an old-fashioned paper map.
“I finished my re-training, and Boss put me on the schedule come Monday. Same hours, a slight bump in pay, and now he offers benefits.”
Like Mirabeth, my boss, Sam, has an online store selling artisanal items, though he’s in the woodworking field, designing, building, and shipping custom, high-end furniture that will last for generations.
His business has grown enough that we no longer have to work out of his backyard shed, but a spacious, rented warehouse.
I’ll be responsible once more for helping his sketches come to life.
“That’s great!” Mirabeth says.
It is, since I can add Mirabeth to my new, better health insurance plan in case any of our close calls turn out to be a lot closer than we expected.
“Did you finally get ahold of your mom?” I ask.
“No, she’s still dodging my calls,” she says, grumbling. “I tried swinging by her place again on the way home, but she wasn’t there. Or at least, she’s pretending not to be. But one of these days, I’ll catch her, yes, I will, and I’ll give her a piece of my mind.”
And when you do, I’ll give her a piece of mine…by thanking her profusely.
I start to doze the longer Mirabeth goes on reading the prescription insert, enjoying my last three days of leisure before I go back to work, but it’s her softly muttered, “Oh geez,” that stirs me.
“What’s up?” I ask.
She points to a section. “It says side effects may include nausea, headaches, breast tenderness, weight gain, mood changes, and best of all, motherfrickin’ blood clots, liver disorders, and heart attacks.”
“Is that normal?” I take the insert from her, my brows lifting higher and higher as I read what is essentially an entire novel’s worth of potential side effects and warnings.
“I don’t know. I didn’t read it last time. I don’t think I felt anything different.”
“You were on birth control before? With who?”
She cocks her head at me. “None of your business.”
“Sure it is. I’m your husband.”
“Fake husband,” she challenges, ignoring my huff. “And besides, millions of people take birth control without issue. I’m sure Alisa did, too, unless you only used condoms.”
Her frown likely matches my own. Mirabeth and I tried using condoms, having picked some up from a corner store on the way back from my welcome home party.
We both hated it the four times we tried using them, neither of us able to cum until I would, inevitably, rip them off.
She only pretended to be mad about it once she figured out what I’d been doing. I think.
“Not that I care or anything about what you’ve done with other people,” Mirabeth says. “You shouldn’t either.”
But I do, for some reason.
I ball up the insert and toss it into the kitchen. “I don’t think I want you taking something like this. Too risky.”
Mirabeth rolls her eyes. “As if we’re not being even riskier with your weak pull-out game.”
“It’s not weak.” It is. “Your eyes are going to get stuck in the back of your head if you keep rolling them like that,” I say when she rolls them again.
“That’s what my Dad used to say, but guess what? They haven’t.” She rolls her eyes a third time for added effect and scoots to the end of the bed, taking her prescription with her.
“Where are you going?”
“To use the restroom, or do I need to ask permission for that too, your bossy highness?” She stands and tugs her shirt down, then fiddles with the plastic disc packaging of her birth control.
“Give it here, princess,” I say, sitting up on my knees and motioning for her to hand it over.
“No.” She focuses her gaze somewhere south of the waistband of her pajama pants that I’ve once again commandeered.
I’ve since purchased quite a few new clothes, including sweatpants and flannel pajama pants, but I still prefer to wear her tight-ass PJs because she thinks it’s cute.
“And you’re not getting anywhere near me with that thing until this takes effect or you figure out how to keep a condom on. ”
Since the latter isn’t likely, I ask of the former, “How long will that take?”
“A full cycle,” she says with the wrinkle of her nose.
“You sure you can wait that long? Because I can barely go two minutes without wanting to touch you.” I grab her hips, push her shirt back up, and kiss her bare stomach as I would if it was rounded with my unborn child.
“We have to at least try,” she says, dancing out of my hold when I tug on the waistband of her skirt. “Because, seriously, we already got lucky that I finished my period a few days before we got married. Don’t want to take any more chances since I’m about to ovulate.”
“You are?” My cock lengthens at the thought, straining against my PJs, about to bust through the fabric. All I want to do is bury it deep inside my princess and tell her that I know about her secret tote. See how she’d react. “So you could, hypothetically, get pregnant right now.”
“Yep. So, I’m off limits, mister. No babies.” And before I know it, she’s swallowed the first pill dry.