Chapter 42 – James
JAMES
Maura’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, making her caramel brown eyes appear even brighter. She sweeps her paintbrush across the canvas in broad strokes. She still moves with grace, despite her swelling pregnant belly.
I lean against the door frame, watching her.
“Stop that,” Maura says cheerfully, not bothering to turn around and look at me. “It can't be that interesting, watching me paint.”
“It's a thousand times more interesting than that mountain of paperwork we just finished,” I grumble.
Maura flashes a smile over her shoulder. “Is Jack still here?” she asks.
We both spent the past three hours with the man, signing all the updated legal paperwork we’ll need before the baby is born.
Wills, trusts, guardianship forms—if anything happens to me and Maura, Nate and Cat will be in charge of taking care of our child—and, most importantly, clauses limiting Victor’s access to the baby.
“Jack just left,” I tell her.
“I think he's going down to see Ryan.”
“Really? Did they make up? Did he say anything?”
“No, but I spotted a horrific neon green sweatshirt in his briefcase.” Maura shudders dramatically. “If he's buying Ryan Archer merch, there’s got to be a reunion on the horizon.”
“Ryan won’t make it easy on him. He's still pretty angry about Jack cutting off him and Pippa.”
Maura hums with agreement. “Well, if Jacks feels anything close to how I feel about our baby, he’ll stop at nothing to get his son back.”
“I hope you’re right.” I stride forward and bury my head in my wife’s hair, inhaling her scent. “How are you feeling?”
“I'm a little afraid to say it out loud,” she murmurs. “It's just scary to hope before I know if it's real.”
Before our meeting with Jack Archer, Maura and I went to meet her new doctor.
Dr. Markovic finally decided to retire, referring us to Dr. Edwards, a cardiologist in her 40s.
Our appointment this morning was just supposed to be introductory, a chance for Maura to get to know her and update her on the particulars of her case.
Instead, Dr. Edwards was a revelation. She gave us information on a new trial treatment for Maura's condition, one which showed promising results in its first round. Maura won't be able to start treatment until after the baby is born, but Dr. Edwards is cautiously optimistic, and so am I.
For the first time since Greece, the future doesn't feel like it's running on a ticking clock. There are no promises, but there's possibility, and that’s good enough for me.
Maura turns in my arms and smiles up at me. Grainy green paint smears over her cheekbone. I wipe it away with my thumb.
“You can hope a little now, if you want,” I whisper. “You won’t jinx it. I promise.”
She lets out a long breath. “In that case, I feel great. Really great. Also…what do you think of a color like this for the nursery?”
She gestures behind us. The canvas is painted a soft green, lighter than the other paints she mixed with the stone.
“We can use whatever color you want.” I chuckle. “The baby won’t complain.”
“Good.” Her eyes flit up to mine. “Because what I really want is you.”
My hands tighten around her waist. “I’m yours.”
I dip my head and capture her mouth with mine.
She moans as our lips meet, a small sound that makes my blood race.
I walk her backward, pressing her against the wall.
Maura’s pregnant body is beyond gorgeous, expanding the curves and softness of her small frame.
Her hands tug at my jacket and tie, trying to strip them off to get access to me. Then, Maura pulls away with a gasp.
“Your suit,” she says. “I’m getting paint on it! God, I’m sorry, it’s all over my hands.”
I grab her paint-covered hand and bring it to my hard cock, so she’s rubbing me through my trousers. “Does it feel like I give a fuck?”
She drags her lower lip through her teeth. “No.”
I tear off my jacket and tie, discarding them on the floor. I know Maura dripped paint there already, but I’m beyond caring. I just want to feel my wife’s bare skin against mine.
“Take off your clothes, wife,” I growl. “I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”
Her hands tremble with excitement as she undoes the buttons on her linen maxi dress. The second I’m fully undressed, my hands are back on her body, roaming over her back, her ass, her thighs.
“So beautiful, Maura. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.”
“Even now?” she breathes, and I know she means with all the fatigue and hormonal changes. She’s been complaining about paleness and acne and dark circles under her eyes. Trying eight different hair masks to try to get the shine back into her bright copper hair.
“Fuck, especially now.” I grab her by the waist, lifting her slightly to perch on the end of a nearby work table. “You’re carrying our baby.” I sink down to my knees, my hands pulling her thighs over my shoulders. “There couldn’t possibly be anything more incredible than that.”
“It’sIt’s exhausting,” she breathes, but there's no real annoyance or frustration in it.
“I know, baby.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh. “But you’re doing so good. And knowing you’re walking around with my child inside you does something primal to me. Makes me want to fuck you against every surface in this apartment until you can't walk.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It's a promise.”
I punctuate the statement by licking her pussy, entrance to clit.
I devour her sweetness, reveling in the way she spills all over my mouth.
I swear, ever since the morning sickness phase passed, this pregnancy has made her even more responsive.
Her arousal trickles down my lips to my chin as I lick and lap at her.
“Don’t stop,” Maura cries. “God, James, please keep going, just like that.”
I tease her entrance with my fingertips as I suck gently on her clit.
I want to fuck her, but damn if I’m not going to make her come for me first. She moans, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
They’re streaked with more paint—a paler green she must have left on the work table.
She reaches for my hair, and I don’t bother stopping her.
Let her paint me if she has to. I’m too hungry for her to pull away.
She lets out a strangled gasp and pulls my head harder against her core. I hollow my lips around her clit and suck while I stretch her around three fingers at once. Her nails dig into my scalp as her body stretches to accommodate the intrusion.
I pull away just for a second. “You okay?” I ask.
In answer, Maura just groans and pulls my head back to her clit.
I wrap it in my lips while I drag my tongue over it.
Her honey drips down my face and fingers, delicious and beyond perfect.
Her thighs tremble around my face as I pump my fingers inside her.
Fuck, I could die happy right here, my senses overloaded by the woman carrying my child.
“I’m close,” she warns me, her fingers tightening in my hair. “I’m almost—I’m—God, James!”
She comes against my mouth, her body contorting with pleasure as she rides me through it. I don’t stop pumping my fingers in her even as her pussy clenches them tight. I only pull away when her legs finally stop shaking and smile wickedly up at her.
“I love it when you make a mess all over my fingers and my mouth, Maura.”
“You’re a mess, too,” she says, humor making her eyes sparkle. “Paint all over your shirt and hair.”
I strip the shirt over my head. “Touch me more, then.” I step between her legs and tangle my fingers in her paint-covered ones.
There's something liberating about the mess. About letting go of my need for control, for order, for everything in its proper place. With Maura, I don't want proper. I want this—paint-smeared and desperate and completely undone.
Her eyes flicker down to my chest. Tentatively, she touches my pecs, tracing the edges.
I grab her wrists and pull her hands down until she’s dragging paint down the ridges of my abs.
With my silent permission, she touches me more purposefully.
She paints over the ridge of my shoulders and down my biceps.
I drag my lips down her neck while she reaches down the back of my trousers and grabs my ass in her hands.
“You’re beautiful,” Maura sighs. “I should paint you every day.”
My first, grumpy instinct is to tell her I have no interest in ruining a suit every day.
Then she smiles and I change my mind. Fuck the suits—I can buy more. Let her ruin everything I own. Let her cover me in paint every fucking day if it’ll make her happy.
“If that’s what you want,” I promise her before I capture her lips with mine.
Maura sighs against my mouth and wraps her arms around my neck.
I fumble with my zipper, tugging it down to pull out my hard cock.
I set my seeping tip at her core and press inside her.
Her pussy squeezes me tight, and I look down to watch as she takes every inch of me.
I’ll never get over how perfect she looks as she takes my cock.
Her paint-slick hands slide over my back as her pussy drips down my cock onto my base.
I pull out long enough to make her squirm, then pound home once more.
I roll my hips, plunging my cock into her over and over until Maura’s teeth dig into my neck.
Her fingernails dig into my back muscles, holding on tight while I fuck her.
The pain only makes the messy heat of her pussy feel more intense.
It’s all too good, too perfect. It feels like my soul might burst through my skin, trying to get closer to this woman.
I gaze down at her. Her face is flushed, her pale skin streaked with green, her auburn hair hanging wild down her back. A year ago, I never could have imagined my life with this much color.
“You're a masterpiece,” I tell her, and I mean it in every sense. “The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
Her eyes go glassy with something that might be tears. “James—”
“I mean it.” I thrust into her again, punctuating the words. “You. Are. Exquisite.”
It’s messy and vivid and alive, but it doesn’t feel strange. It feels right.
Maura’s pussy pulses around my length, and I kiss her again, right in time to swallow her cries as she comes on my cock. I follow her over the edge, my own climax washing over me in a haze of auburn and green and white.
Fuck clean and orderly. I really could do this every day for the rest of my life.