17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Dayton
I’ve never hated this man more than I do right now. “Rowland Hall, don’t you dare pick up those boxes!” I shout as I walk outside the front door and see him lifting three of them out of the back of my car.
“A-ah! You’re not feeling well, so I insist,” he says firmly and just as I’m about to reach for them, he lifts them above his head. Rowland isn’t much taller than me, but he is taller enough for me to not be able to reach them.
I frown deeply at his childish grin.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say with a sigh and grab one of the smaller boxes. Turning around on my heel—a little too quickly for my aching head—I walk back to the house without looking at him. He catches up, laughing to himself, and places a quick peck at the back of my neck, exactly where my venus gland is, making my entire body shiver with an intense wave of pleasure. “Rowe!”
Ugh. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You can’t possibly blame me for trying to keep you comfortable. You said it yourself. You’ve felt the symptoms coming on since the morning.” He’s all giddy walking next to me, and in that yellow shirt and dark gray khakis, he looks even more boyish. “What kind of alpha would I be if I let my poor partner suffering from pre-heat syndrome overstrain himself,” he says with a heavy lacing of playful sarcasm to his words.
Going up the stairs, I clench my teeth and shoot him a glare. Mina and Mac are still helping to unpack my books by putting them on the bookshelf in the living room. From the looks of it, though, it seems like they’re both progressing rather slowly, studying each of my graphic novels with an especially keen interest instead of actually putting them up.
“I just have a headache and feel a bit lethargic,” I note. “Didn’t choose my heat to start the day I’d be moving in, did I?”
We’re finally in the bedroom, so Rowland drops one of the boxes on the bed, making my heart hiccup. “Hey! That one has all my fragrances!” I blurt in panic, but then notice it was the box with my clothes he dropped. Rowland slowly turns the other box around, presenting me with the writing on it, and then places it on the ground in a theatrical over the top slow movement.
I groan and roll my eyes, but feel my mouth’s corner tug upward. Rowland’s still smiling from ear to ear and I begrudgingly have to admit that I love seeing him like that.
Once I place the smaller box with my winter accessories down, I already feel him behind me. His warmth enveloping me, Rowland hugs me from the back, putting his chin into the dip between my neck and shoulder. “Though I hate seeing you high-strung and uncomfortable, I think we can find some positives to this unfortunate coincidence, hm?”
The urge to close my eyes and lean back to him is stronger than me right now, so I do so with a deep exhale. His pheromones, with their sweet scent of figs, release some of the pressure behind my skull.
“Mhmm,” I finally stop playing up my annoyed self and decide to give him a little back. “And what are those?” I ask.
I feel him smile against my skin. “Well,” he teases, his voice low and guttural, “for example, once the kids go to school tomorrow, I’ll be able to officially introduce you and your pheromones into every - single - room in this house.”
A rush of burning lust passes through me. The day before my heat, I’m usually anything but horny, but Rowland has a way to override my natural programming, apparently, because right now I could let him do anything he wants to me.
“I’ve already been into every room in this house,” I note, wanting to tease him back.
He hums. Slowly, his hand slides around to my stomach and pauses right above the waistband of my pants, provoking me. “ Our house . It’s different. Besides, I will wait to hear from tomorrow’s Dayton. I’m sure he’ll be begging me to show him around, all day and night long.”
Letting out a trembling breath, I lick my lips and turn my head to the side to kiss him, ready to push the boxes off the bed and fuck right there until…
“Dad! Ugh, Dad! Mac won’t stop reading the damn comics! You’re not helping. We have work to do.” We both hear Mina’s voice from downstairs. “Do it yourself, then. See how you can reach the top shelves, you knucklehead,” she bickers with Mac.
The chemistry quickly fizzles out once Mina’s steps get louder and louder as she runs up the stairs. Rowland and I pull away from each other, and I quickly sit on the bed to hide the half-baked results of his immorality in my lap.
I flash him a chastising glare and he mouths apologetic ‘sorry’ just as Mina dances into the room.
Rowland turns his attention to her, all cool and collected like nothing just happened. “Please, don’t call him a knucklehead. That’s mean.”
She rolls her eyes. “He is, though,” she says, half playing. When she notices me sitting on the bed awkwardly, leaning over my thighs, she raises a brow.
“He’s feeling a little off. It’s going to be his heat,” Rowland explains calmly.
While he’s free from raging hormones and a master at changing his attitude in a blink of an eye after years in the business world, I’m not. Realizing that he basically just told his daughter—who is now all too educated on all things venus—that we’ll be all over each other in the coming days, does no favors to my unsteady stomach or my prickling cheeks.
Mina’s eyes dart between us briefly but whether she’s thinking about all that and feels awkward or not, she gives me an understanding smile instead.
“Can I help to unpack here? You go deal with Mac, see how long you can last.”
I snort. It’s still strange seeing Mina with this new, more approachable personality. More like a young teenage girl should be. Still moody and not completely logical a lot of the time, but miles better than before.
Rowland looks at me to make sure I’m alright and then rests his hands over his hips with a sigh. “I guess I have no choice. You be good here,” he tells Mina, ruffling her now dyed black hair on his way out of the room, to her great dismay.
I watch her with a sympathetic gaze while she comes up to me, patting her hair back into a presentable state.
She starts to get ready to hop on the bed, but notices the box by her feet. “Can I open this one?”
“Sure. It’s my collection of perfumes, colognes and all that stuff. Well, half of it. I think the other box is still in the car,” I think out loud.
Mina sits down and opens the box. Her eyes light up when faced with dozens of differently shaped, colorful glass bottles. Thankfully, feeling fully asleep down there again, I crawl across the bed and toward the long recessed area of the wall above that Rowland told me I should use as a place to keep my collection. It was nothing but some empty space with pretty lights before and it will hopefully fit all of my bottles.
I lean against the wall, ready for Mina to hand me the bottles.
“Can I smell it?” she asks before giving me the first one, and I nod. It’s a tall, blueish bottle faintly resembling the shape of a person. One of my older pieces that I used a lot in college. Mina hums and mhmms at the smell of it before handing it over. She also does the same with the other one, and the next one, and the one after that.
“You have so many,” she notes, sounding astonished, when we’re maybe halfway through the box.
I smirk playfully. “You understand why, don’t you?”
Mina raises her brows and looks away, like she’s trying to prevent herself from saying something that could come off as insulting. “It’s fine. I know you don’t like the smell of my pheromones. Most people don’t. I don’t need you to lie.”
“As long as Dad likes it, I guess that’s all that matters,” she says, choosing a surprisingly tactful and thoughtful response.
I nod. “That’s all that matters.” I only wish I realized that a bit earlier in life. “That said, there’s nothing wrong with sometimes wanting to hide behind something like fragrances. Especially when you don’t feel confident. Just…don’t stay hiding too much and don’t get comfortable in the shadows,” I say, trying to pass on some wisdom.
Mina studies the bottle of perfume in her hands pensively. I know she’s been struggling a little with learning to love herself, like any young omega would. Not to mention one with her background and difficulties . She has a lot to unlearn.
She opens the fragrance and spritzes it on her arm, smelling it.
“Do you like that one?” I ask once I notice she’s sitting there, gazing into the abyss, for a little too long to just be enjoying the scent. Mina looks up sharply. There’s some unexplained sadness in her eyes, and I don’t think what I said caused it. It’s something else.
“You can keep it. I hardly ever used that one, anyway.”
Mina tilts the diamond-shaped bottle in her hands, looking down at it. “Can I? It…reminds me of Mom. She uses something that smells like this,” she says in a small voice.
My chest tightens. Hope is still a touchy topic, especially after everything that went down with Mina.
The memory of Rowland raging after Mina explained more to him the day we made up is still vivid in my mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that mad, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that mad and aggrieved at the same moment.
He really struggled to even be decent to Hope after that. All Rowland could think about, as he told me, was what could have happened if Mina didn’t turn the hatred and stigma Hope planted in her outwards instead of inwards. If she chose to take it out on herself instead of him or me.
I’m not sure how exactly to proceed with the topic, so I lean on my side of the bed and watch Mina gently. “Take it, alright? You… I know you must miss her. That’s okay.”
Mina sighs and quickly rubs her eyes, trying to hide that she teared up. “Thanks. I really like it. Anyway, it’s better this way. Dr. Pritchett thinks so. Me too,” she says, her voice firmed this time. The new therapist has been working well for her. Slowly, but all healing takes time.
“Of course,” I say, and, summoning my courage, gently hold her shoulder for a moment.
Mina gives me a smile and continues going through the box, passing me another bottle with an expression that almost seems like nothing had happened. Like father, like daughter. Damn. I guess it’s a hereditary skill.
After a little while of peaceful unpacking, Rowland appears in the door with Mac on his shoulders. He’s holding two more boxes, and so does Mac, albeit smaller ones.
“This seems incredibly dangerous,” I note anxiously and jump up to help him offload.
“It was taking you two far too long, so we decided to save the situation. Right?” Rowland puffs out his chest victoriously and grins.
“Yeaaah!” Mac shouts, raising his arms together with the box.
Mina and I share a look before we laugh. With all my stuff spread out across the house and half the boxes in the bedroom, everything is in chaos. Rowland throws Mac on the bed. It doesn’t take long for Mina to start nagging him about being careful and to not get close to the perfume bottles. While they do, Rowland steps toward me with that charming, loving smile and leans in for a kiss.
“Welcome home, my love.”
?
Only a few weeks after I fully settle in, Rowland throws me a surprise thirty-second birthday party. It’s not exactly surprising , considering Mom acts much stranger than usual when she’s keeping a secret and Mac, after his upsetting experience of lying to his Dad, decided to tell me the plan in secret pretty much as soon as he learned it.
Still, I’m happy. I couldn’t be happier. I have everything I could ever want.
Everyone is here and that previously impersonal, spotless house that is now our home bursts with life, love and laughter. Rowland’s mother, invigorated with a few glasses of Chardonnay, turns out to be on a perfect frequency with Mom at her normal. Ma just seems outright amused by the two of them chatting and giggling like two teenage girls.
Shawn and Joane seem a few minutes away from filing for shared custody for Momo. I have to keep an eye on them to make sure one of them doesn’t try to run off with him. The little guy loves the attention and eagerly does his cute little twirls and rolls and tricks. Anything for belly rubs and snacks.
Mac plays the waiter for our event, constantly running around in his little pretend tuxedo and asking everyone if they want any more drinks or snacks.
Mina is at her Omega Awakening camp over the weekend. Something we all thought would be good for her. Bonding with other kids, going through informative lectures and fun activities, and a little something to distract her and get her into nature. She left a hand-crafted crystal necklace on my night table before she went as a gift to me.
I smile, touching it as it sits against my chest.
And Hope… Hope is here, I suppose.
Rowland talked about it with the family therapist. They figured it was an important step. For Rowland to work on his unaddressed antipathy toward her, for the kids, and for Hope, too. If she is ever to have anything resembling a decent relationship with us that benefits the children, shutting her out is not the way. And her being willing to come to some sessions was a big enough deal for Rowland to agree with her coming today. Under one serious condition: no bigoted beta husband allowed.
She’s sitting at the back end of the couch, mostly quiet, only flashing quick smiles to Mac when he runs in to ‘serve’.
I almost feel bad for her but keep my distance for most of the party. Rowland and I mingle, basically joined at the hip. He keeps telling me how good I look, keeps kissing me, and does that cute thing people in movies do when feeding each other cake, smearing some of the icing on my nose before wiping it off and kissing me.
When Hope approaches us near the end of the party, Rowland visibly stiffens.
She seems as nervous as I’d expect. What I don’t expect is what comes out of her mouth. “I…I think I should head home. A lovely party, really,” she says, trying her best to be civil.
Out of her sight, I poke Rowland. Behave. She’s trying.
“Yeah. It’s been really nice,” he says dryly and squeezes my hand with a smile. “Jared must be missing you, so don’t keep yourself. I’ll tell Mina you said hi.”
Hope shifts on her feet, trying to keep up a polite smile.
“He’s umm…been out a lot. It’s for the best, I think,” she mutters. Rowland told me about Jared apparently not reacting very well to his step-daughter being ‘ one of them ’. Not at all unexpected, I thought, but it was apparently unexpected for Hope. And the fact that she might reconsider her relationship, maybe even views, because of Mina, has been a surprise to Rowland.
Hope’s still far too low on his list to consider forgiving her, but this is a good first step.
“Sorry to hear that,” I say, lowering my brows. A prick or not, Jared’s still someone Hope married and presumably thought would stand by her for the rest of her life, so it must sting.
She gives me an appreciative glance. “Anyway, I should say goodbye to Mac. You two…” she pauses, facing away briefly as if to brace herself. “You two seem to fit well together,” she says gingerly and immediately walks off, like she couldn’t possibly face the consequences of that compliment.
Rowland and I look at each other in disbelief.
“Wow. That’s…growth, right?”
“Mhmm,” he makes a somewhat agreeable grunt. “She still has ways to go, but she’s right on this at least,” Rowland says, pulling me closer by the waist. “We do fit well together. Coincidentally, we also fit right into today’s eight o’clock slot in the most expensive restaurant in the city. Happens to be inside this very nice hotel, too,” Rowland muses enticingly with a sleek smile.
I frown playfully. “You know that thirty-two isn’t some big milestone, right?” Besides me being one step closer to death, that is. “Isn’t that a bit much?”
“You deserve ‘a bit much’. Too much. All of it, in fact.” He holds my chin, kissing me softly while our bodies press tightly together. His pheromones seep under my skin. “Unless you don’t want to?” he opens his eyes, getting more serious. “I didn’t want to make you feel overwhelmed. I just thought we could enjoy some special treatment. I’m happy to stay home with you, if that is what you want.”
I sigh. “You’re just too darn perfect, aren’t you?” I say with an annoyed grimace.
Rowland smiles softly. “It’s been said before.”
I pull him into a deeper kiss by the back of his neck. We make out until the familiar sounds of ‘aaawww’ing from the other side of the room. Our mothers are looking at us, hands over their heart and all, like we’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen.
“God, not this again,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, and Rowland lets out an understanding laughter. Being platonically ogled like that makes me feel like I’m a teenager again, telling my parents about my first boyfriend. Sends shivers of cringe down my spine. “Fuck it. Let’s get out of here then,” I announce with conviction. Rowland looks pleased. “What about Mac?”
“Shawn promised to look after him if we went.”
“Mhm, you thought of everything."
“Of course. Let’s get ready. Wear something nice, and pack some swim shorts,” he says, discreetly patting my ass.
I raise a brow. “Swimming?”
“We miiight be staying in the hotel’s penthouse. With an infinity pool, only for us, overlooking the city. No big deal,” he boasts, not at all hiding how proud he is of himself. I have to admit that he has a reason to be confident. My knees are already weak.
“I guess it is my birthday. And it would be a shame to let the reservation go to waste,” I reply in a similar, laid-back tone. I spent my last birthday with a takeaway at home after lying to my moms about going out because I was so depressed about my life prospects and shitty love life.
Looks like this year is going to be a little different.
And my god, is it different .
When Rowland mentioned the most expensive restaurant in the city, I didn’t realize he actually meant the Perez Plaza. The tallest building around where celebrities, millionaires and politicians stay. Hotel rooms the size of small mansions, big brand name pop up stores on the lower floor, on-call masseurs, private chefs and personal trainers to help within the hotel gym—all that at the price of a stay. And, of course, the renowned restaurant overlooking the plaza outside the building with the massive, beautifully lit water fountain extravaganza.
I’m too speechless to even converse with Rowland much at the beginning. He seems amused, and I think he almost enjoys showing me off as we walk down those ornate halls, his arm around my waist.
Our restaurant table is in a perfect spot to watch the fountain, its multiple streams rising into the air in various tempos, creating something resembling an art installation with the lights passing through the water. Especially at night.
Rowland orders some ridiculously expensive red, even though I ask him not to. I have to apologize to him moments later because it’s the most damn exquisite thing I’ve ever tasted.
One of the chefs comes to chat with us at the table, as seems to be the custom in this establishment. I barely hold in a smile when he talks about specials, best quality ingredients, and his utmost care, making sure the food is to my dietary requirements—it all feels like I’m a part of some sort of joke. Me, the little ol’ me, being treated like I’m the most important person in the room.
I could get used to it.
“You sure you’ll be able to put the kids through college after this?” I ask while we wait for our meal.
Rowland laughs, reaching for my hand over the table. “While I’d rather you don’t expect me to take you here every other weekend, you don’t need to worry. I am very good with money. It might not look like it, but I was taught the importance of savings and my expenses would probably surprise you. We’re all good,” he assures me with a wink.
Such a cheesy, stupid gesture makes my cheeks burn with hot blood, and Rowland simper with glee in return.
We dine like kings. The food melts on my tongue and the ‘highest quality world ingredients’ really taste so good it makes me question whether or not the stuff I buy at the grocery store is even real.
I’m not even full after the meal, just sated. Satisfied. Fulfilled.
Being filthy rich really is like living in an entirely different reality, huh?
I continue to enjoy pretending it is my reality, too. Rowland moves his open hand slowly over my chest as soon as we get into the—private!—elevator and stops at the highest buttons of my fancy satin button-up shirt. He plays with them, teasing me, while planting soft kisses on my neck, making me shiver. I repay him by sliding my leg between his, rubbing against his crotch, causing him to jolt and abruptly nibble at my neck.
“I’m starting to think you haven’t booked this room just so that we can enjoy the night view,” I say between controlled breaths, trying not to give him the satisfaction of my moans just yet.
He chuckles against my skin. His pheromones seep out, so much so it feels like I will choke on them in the enclosed space. They’re ruthless in their intensity, nearly making my knees buckle. Thankfully, the elevator finally stops and dings, the pleasing female voice welcoming us to the penthouse suite.
We pull away from each other, and while I lick my lips and rub the sore spot on my neck, I fully relish the sight of Rowland’s erection tenting his pants. Oh, that flirtatious, charming persona is gone now. He stands there, looking at me like a desperate dog in heat.
Somehow, he collects himself enough to take my hand and lead me into the apartment. The place looks as modern and high-class as I imagined. A little like Rowland’s house before I moved in, only ten times more over the top.
Everything is basically one massive room, with a minimalist, sleek kitchen to the right, dining and living room to the left, a door closer to the entrance that I presume to be the bathroom, and open riser stairs with the steps made of some sort of expensive stone leading to the open level upstairs where the bed is.
I walk into the open space, turning around to admire it. The ceiling is crazy high and has not one but two modern chandeliers that look like a disco ball that exploded and got stuck in an anti-gravitational pull or something.
“This place is mind-blowing,” I mutter to myself, still looking around like I’m in a dream. Rowland comes up to me to grab my hand again.
“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he whispers, pulling me toward the entire wall made of glass panels. My heart races when we walk out onto the massive private terrace with the pool. This doesn’t even feel real. The pool looks like it is spilling out into the endless bright lights of the city ahead. I feel like we’re in heaven—somewhere so high and so removed from other people—and the lights are glowing stars.
I hear nothing. No sounds of cars honking, the clamor of people… It’s just the two of us in the soft blue light of the pool, heat rising from it and the wavy texture of the water dancing seductively on the surface.
“What’s the verdict?” Rowland asks, hugging me from behind.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re stupid,” I say. “By that I mean: I don’t think anything is ever going to top this.”
“I do love to outdo myself, so I might hold off on saying that if I were you.”
Huh. I believe that.
Leaning back into him with a smile, I glance to the side at the wet bar. I want to stay as sober as I can to remember every single detail of this night, but a little drink won't hurt.
The staff delivered the small suitcase with some essentials that we brought with us up here once we arrived at the restaurant. I think I saw it by the entrance. “How about you go get our stuff while I put together a—”
I pause when I feel Rowland’s hands on my belt. I smile. No drinks until later. Got it. We do have the whole night.
“So eager… But we’ll still need our swimsuits.”
He hums, continuing by undoing the buttons of my shirt after my pants are open and down at my ankles. “I’ve changed my mind on that, actually. I mean…no one can see us here,” he says, voice as smooth as honey and almost as appetizing.
A slow, even wave of pleasure passes over me. I don’t hate the idea. I don’t hate it at all. So I surrender and let Rowland do the work. He takes my jacket off, then my shirt. He kicks his shoes off while I remove mine, until we’re both naked, kissing under the crescent moon above. Our cocks brush against each other and this deep, deep hunger rises from the bottom of my stomach.
We waddle closer to the pool while kissing and touching each other all over. The air is cold but the warmth of the water reaches me as soon as we step near the edge. With a wide smile, I hold Rowland’s cheeks in my hands, pulling away from his eager kiss momentarily.
“You really are something, you know that?” I ask with a devilish smirk and before he can respond, I use all my strength to push him to the side.
He lands in the pool with a huge splash, sending water everywhere. Covering my mouth with my hands, I giggle like a preschooler that just pranked someone with a whoopee cushion.
When Rowland comes up for air, I appreciate what I did even more. He looks like a damn model as he pushes his short hair back, water dripping down his face and open lips. For someone who doesn’t really go to the gym, his shoulders and back look pretty impressive as he stretches his arms up to wipe his face.
Holy hell. Maybe I should convince him to have a pool put in.
“You little…” He pauses ominously, grinning at me from down there.
I step closer, playfully balancing with my toes barely poking off the edge of the pool. “That’s what you get for teasing me the entire night,” I say, lifting my chin smugly so that I can fully enjoy being above him.
Rowland blinks the little droplets of water from his long lashes and makes his best apologetic puppy eyes. “I deeply regret teasing you, my love.” Ah . My heart skips a beat every time he calls me that still. “Please, allow me to make it up to you,” he says, raising his brows.
I purse my lips, shifting at the hip. “Go on…”
“Sit down on the edge of the pool. Please.” I look for signs of deceit in his sweet voice but find none, so I slowly sit, submerging my feet in the perfectly warm water. Rowland moves closer, placing his hands on my thighs without breaking eye contact.
As I lean back, propping myself up on my arms, and look down at him between my legs, I realize how unsteady my breath is.
With a surprisingly tender expression, like he’s worshiping me on the altar, Rowland takes my half-flaccid cock in his mouth, making me arch my back. It takes only a few moments inside his hot, snug mouth for me to get fully hard. He’s doing surprisingly well for someone who’s spent half his life in a relationship with a cis beta woman. The first few times he tried, he was a bit off his game, but just like now, Rowland makes it up fully with his care and attention.
I flex my stomach each time my cock brushes against the back of his throat, and tighten the grip on his hair, guiding his head gently. My body gets hotter and hotter the closer I get to the finish line, and the closer I get, the more I want Rowland inside of me instead of the other way around.
With a trembling exhale, I lean forward to touch his shoulder. He opens his eyes, attentively darting them over my face to make sure I’m okay. “Too much?” he asks, wiping my pre-cum dripping off the corner of his mouth.
I feel almost drunk, seeing him like that in front of me. This goddamn man.
Below the water’s surface, I see his manhood as hard as a mast, making me the one nearly dribbling with lust. “This feels good, but it’s not enough,” I whimper desperately.
Something dark emerges inside his eyes—the animalistic need to claim and conquer that, I think, every alpha carries deep within them. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me toward him into the water with fervor. We weave together while kissing hungrily.
It feels a little weird when Rowland preps me with his fingers. I have a faint memory of fucking in a bathtub in college when I was really drunk and that’s about it. The buoyancy of the water and its ubiquitous pressure surrounding us feel good. And hopefully, my own wetness will be enough of a lubricant.
I’m so high on his touch and pheromones that I don’t even realize he’s pushed me with my chest against the infinite area of the pool. For a moment I freeze up at the sight of the high down below, separated only by some flimsy glass. Rowland notices, easing the work with his fingers and pressing up from behind to hug me.
“This alright? The glass won’t break. Don’t worry,” he says softly, kissing my cheek. His free hand goes back down, fondling me at the front.
“It’s just…overwhelming. But the view… The view is worth it,” I say, looking out toward the lit up city skyline.
Rowland seems pleased with the answer and starts situating himself to enter me. As his tip gently pushes against my hole, I tense up again. “Condoms,” I mutter, turning at him. “One of the things you should’ve brought with the swimsuits,” I say with a mocking, scolding frown.
He moves in closer, pressing against my lower back to get better access to my ass. Putting one hand loosely around my throat and another on my hip, he kisses my earlobe. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” he whispers.
Dizzying wave of arousal makes my cock twitch. I can’t tell if he’s just trying to be sexy or if he’s serious.
We’ve had lengthy conversations about…kids. What we came up with was that there was no pressure. I finally came to a place where I don’t feel as desperate and insecure. Rowland’s children, the family we now share, is enough for me. Especially since it’s more and more unlikely I even could get pregnant now. I said that putting that pressure and stress on me would only ruin the moments I’d rather spend enjoying the family we already have.
“Rowland, are you sure?” I ask, feeling a little reluctant.
He nibbles at my earlobe, entering me slowly. I stretch around him, feeling full and hot and clasping the edge of the pool tightly with my hand while letting out a moan.
“Relax. We’re not trying. We're just…letting things happen as they should. If they do, they do. If they don’t, then that’s fine too. What do you say?” he whispers into my ear tenderly. Lovingly . It feels like his voice is inside of my head.
I nod, and he begins thrusting slowly. All my worries float away. In his arms, as I should be, I can be safe and loved and know that everything is going to be alright.
A smile appears on my face, one so intense I can hardly hide it. Rowland notices it as he’s sucking at my neck and tilts his head. “What do you find so funny right now?” he asks with a somewhat desperate chuckle, like he’s embarrassed about having made a mistake.
I turn to touch my nose against his, looking away thoughtfully. “I just had this thought that…this is what happens when you give true love one last chance. Or two. Or five.”
He laughs, pressing his lips gently against mine.
“They were all worth it,” he says.
Yes. Yes, they sure were.