Amiyah #3
Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, slowly, her expression changed.
The tension in her shoulders melted. Her mouth curved into a smile so bright, it made my heart ache.
She reached up, cupping my face in both hands, and kissed me so deeply it made my heart rate speed up.
Once, twice, then again until I was breathless.
“My baby is having our baby,” she whispered against my lips.
That broke me all over again. I sobbed, laughing through the tears as she held me tighter.
“You’re not mad?” I asked softly.
“Mad?” she said, kissing my forehead. “Amiyah, you just gave me the best news of my life. You and this baby are everything I didn’t even know I needed.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding for weeks, my whole body trembling as relief flooded through me. I buried my face against her neck, her warmth wrapping around me like safety itself.
Her hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, her voice low and sure. “We’re having a baby, love.” She said as she began to peel me out of my clothes, desire and need taking over where joy and love left off.
The room felt quieter now, the only sound our breathing, slow and deep, as if the rhythm had changed but the melody stayed the same. Her fingers traced the hem of my top, sliding the fabric upward until it fell away completely. My skin tingled under her touch, every inch of me alive and waiting.
“Calla,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.
She kissed the side of my neck, slow and deliberate, her breath warm against my skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “Do you know that? I don’t think you do.”
Her hands moved lower, palms skimming over my hips as if she was tracing the shape of me. She wasn’t rushing, wasn’t hungry in the way lust usually feels. This was something more profound, slower, fuller.
I looked at her, my throat tight. “You’re looking at me like you’re seeing me for the first time.”
“I am,” she said quietly. “You’re carrying something created from the love between the three of us. How could I not look at you like that?”
Her words hit me in a place I didn’t know was still raw. My eyes stung again, and she smiled softly, brushing a tear away with her thumb.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered. “Let me make love to you instead.”
And she did. Calla's hands continued to explore my body, her touch gentle yet firm, as if she was committing every curve and line of my changing body to her memory.
It was as if she were downloading the upgrade.
I could feel the love radiating from her, enveloping me in a warm embrace that went beyond the physical.
Her fingers traced the curve of my spine, sending shivers down my body, each touch a promise of the pleasure to come.
"Lie back," she whispered, her voice a soft command. "Let me worship you."
I complied, sinking onto the softness of the couch, my body already aching with anticipation.
Calla followed, her body pressing against mine, her skin smooth and warm.
Her lips found mine in a slow, deep kiss, a dance of tongues and breaths that left me dizzy with desire as her hands roamed over my body, exploring every inch with a reverence that made me feel cherished and adored.
I could feel her love in every touch, a gentle caress here, a firm squeeze there, each movement a testament to her devotion.
My body responded to her, my hips arching to meet her touch, my breath coming in soft gasps as her lips trailed down my neck, her teeth grazing my skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.
She took her time, exploring every inch of me, her tongue tracing patterns on my skin that sent waves of pleasure coursing through my veins.
I could feel my body responding, my nipples hardening, my pussy aching with need.
"Calla," I moaned, my voice a plea for more. "Please."
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of love and desire that made my heart race. "Patience, my love," she murmured. "I want to savor every moment."
Her hands moved lower, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I parted my legs, inviting her touch, my body trembling with anticipation. Her fingers found my pussy, sliding through my wet folds with a gentle ease that made me gasp.
Calla's touch was slow and deliberate, her fingers circling my clit, teasing and probing, building my pleasure with each stroke.
I could feel my orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure in my core, ready to explode at her command.
Her other hand cupped my breast, her thumb brushing against my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my pussy.
"Calla," I cried out, my body convulsing as my orgasm hit. "Oh God, Calla, babyyyyy, I’m right thereeeeee,” my resolve breaking and my orgasm flooding her fingers.
She continued to stroke me through my release, her touch gentle and soothing, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. As I came down from my high, I could feel her body pressing against mine, her pussy rubbing against my thigh, her need evident.
I reached for her, my hands roaming over her body, maneuvering every dip and curve. I could feel her muscles tensing under my touch, her breath coming in soft gasps. I rolled us over, pinning her beneath me, my body covering hers completely.
"Your turn," I whispered, a playful smile on my lips.
Calla's eyes sparkled with mischief, her hands gripping my hips as she guided me to straddle her.
I could feel her pussy pressing against mine, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my body.
I began to move, my hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm, my clit rubbing against hers with each motion.
Calla's hands moved across my body, her touch firm and demanding, urging me to go faster, to take more. I complied, my movements becoming more urgent, my breath coming in short gasps. I could feel my orgasm building again, a ball of pleasure in my core, ready to explode at any moment.
Calla's fingers dipped between us, capturing some of the mess we were making before easing around to my asshole and pushing inside, her touch precise and unrelenting, pushing me over the edge as we tribbed.
In contrast, she finger fucked my ass, causing me to cry out as my orgasm hit, my body convulsing with pleasure, my pussy clenching as my release flowed out of me.
Calla followed soon after, her hips bucking against mine, her cries of pleasure filling the room.
“Mmmmmm, I'm coming, baby, you feel so fucking good to me,” she moaned out.
As we came down from our high, I collapsed onto her, my body sated and spent, my mind drifting in a haze of pleasure and contentment.
Calla's arms wrapped around me, holding me close, her breath slowing to match mine. In that moment, I knew that this was where I belonged, in her arms, surrounded by her love and devotion. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. Tonight, she wasn’t my mistress; she was my woman, and we’d made love after finding out we were starting a family.
It wasn’t wild or frantic. It was steady, grounding, and reverent.
Every touch felt like a promise. Every kiss was an affirmation.
I lost track of time. All I knew was that with her was home, the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her body against mine, the way her voice wrapped around me like a blanket when she whispered my name; it all brought me a comfort I never wanted to let go.
When she finally pulled me close, tucking me against her chest, the world outside the room didn’t exist. There was no fear, no uncertainty, only the quiet beat of her heart against my ear.
She kissed the top of my head and sighed softly as her hand found my growing midsection, where our bundle of joy was forming. “You have no idea how much I love you, Amiyah.”
I smiled against her skin, my body relaxed and my heart full. “I think I’m starting to.”
When I woke up the next morning, the light was pouring through the curtains, warm and golden, spilling across the sheets like honey. Calla was still sleeping beside me, her arm draped over my waist, her hand resting protectively over my stomach.
For a moment, I just lay there watching her breathe, trying to let the peace of the moment sink in. Last night had been perfect, more than I ever could have imagined. I had expected fear, hesitation, maybe even anger. Instead, she gave me love, pure and certain.
I brushed my fingers along her wrist and smiled when she stirred.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I whispered.
Her eyes opened slowly, the corners crinkling as she smiled at me. “How are you feeling?”
“Lighter,” I said honestly. “Like I can finally breathe again.”
She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Good, that’s how you should always feel.”
For a while, we just lay there, tangled in quiet comfort, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. Then Calla shifted slightly and looked at me with that familiar mix of curiosity and focus.
“So,” she said softly, “when are we telling James?”
That one question made my heart race again. I looked down, tracing invisible circles on her arm. “Soon. I don’t want to wait too long, but I also don’t want to drop it on him out of nowhere.”
Calla nodded, thoughtful. “We should make it special. He deserves that.”
I smiled, relief washing through me. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?”
Her grin spread slow and wide. “Something memorable.”
That’s how it started, both of us sitting in bed in our robes, planning the moment we would tell James he was going to be a father.
It didn’t take long for it to turn into a full production. Calla called it Operation Dad’s Club, and I couldn’t stop laughing at the name.
She wanted to include his closest people, the ones who mattered most. Caleb, Calil, Knox, Maverick, his father James Sr., Dro, CJ, and Yanna’s dad, Anthony.
All of them had been there for him through so many seasons of his life since he’d made Winston Hills home that it was only right that they would be there for this one, too.
We decided to host it at Noire, the perfect place for something like this, private, sleek, and meaningful to all of them. The plan was simple but brilliant. Each man would be handed a cigar, and every cigar would have a custom wrapper that read, Welcome to the Dad’s Club.
Calla laughed so hard when she said it out loud. “You know his face is going to do that little squint thing he does when he’s confused, right?”
I giggled, nodding. “And he’ll probably look around and say something like, ‘Who the hell is joining the Dad’s Club?’”
She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Exactly. That’s when we walk in.”
“With framed ultrasound photos,” I added, my stomach fluttering at the thought.
“And we’ll play the ultrasound video on the big screen behind the bar,” she said, her voice softening. “That’ll hit him right in the heart.”
The image of it was already forming in my mind: James surrounded by all the people he loved, holding the cigar, confusion shifting into realization, then joy. The thought alone made my throat tighten.
I placed my hand over Calla’s, feeling the warmth of her palm against mine. “He’s going to cry, isn’t he?”
Calla smiled, eyes soft and certain. “Oh, he’s absolutely going to cry. Big, strong James Carter Jr. is about to melt into a puddle.”
I laughed, but tears still pricked my eyes. “You think he’s ready?”
She brushed her thumb along my cheek. “He doesn’t have to be. We’ll be ready for him.”
That line stayed with me, simple but true. We would be ready, for the baby, for each other, for whatever came next.
As we got up to start the day, Calla opened her planner and started scribbling notes, already making calls, coordinating with the staff at Noire, and I just watched her, my heart full and my mind steady for the first time in weeks.
For so long, I had been afraid. Afraid to love, afraid to lose, afraid to want something as big as this.
But now, standing beside Calla as sunlight poured through the windows, I finally understood what love was supposed to feel like: safe, seen, shared.
We were going to tell James soon, and when we did, everything would change, and I wasn’t afraid of the change; in fact, I was excited for every new adventure the Black, Carter, Patterson clan was about to embark on.