26. Daphne
26
The doctor makes a few notes in the chart. “I’m glad to hear you’re adjusting to formula feeding,” she says. When she sees my surprise, she gives me a casual shrug. “It’s not always cut-and-dry. You’ll hear some physicians swear by breastmilk and others promote formula. I’m here telling you how relieved I am that you’re putting your own health, as well as your baby’s health, first.”
“I thought breastfeeding was for my baby’s health.”
“In a perfect world, we’d all be breastfeeding and breastfed. But remember, formula was invented for a reason. At the end of the day, the priority is making sure your child is fed. However that may look.”
I nod. And I resist the urge to nudge Pasha as he suppresses a knowing smirk when we both hear the obstetrician practically quoting him.
“Now…” She checks the paperwork and charts again. “Let’s see. The exam looked good; everything is in its proper place. How are you feeling?”
“Overwhelmed?” I laugh almost breathlessly. But I know what she’s really asking, so I wave off my lame little joke. “No, really, I’m doing well. Haven’t felt any pain or trouble with normal stuff, like…” I glance at Pasha. “You know. Bathroom and all that.”
“Good. Very good. In that case, pairing up with the timing of almost seven weeks now, I officially declare you fit to resume normal activity.” The doctor glances at my husband. “That includes you, Mr. Chekhov.”
“Thank God,” he mutters.
I raise a finger. “One thing we do need to discuss is birth con?—”
“We’re not going on birth control.” Pasha rests a hand on my shoulder. “We’re planning on growing our family.”
“Pasha…” I glance at the doctor, who is wisely choosing to concentrate on the clipboard.
“Would you mind giving us a moment?” He doesn’t look away from me, but it’s clear he’s speaking to the doctor.
She raises a brow but gives us the room without objection.
He waits until we both hear her footsteps recede from the closed door. When he calmly goes over and turns the lock, I can’t help but feel a surge of heat right where I don’t need it to be happening in an OBGYN.
“Pash, I mean it. I’m not saying ‘no’ forever; I just?—”
He cuts me off with a searing kiss. I’m so wrapped up in my worry, I don’t even clock him crossing the room to me until I’m nearly bent backwards with the intensity of his kiss.
“I’m surprised,” he rumbles low in my ear. It’s dizzying, feeling the heat of his breath on my skin, the graze of his teeth on my lobe, and the tug of his thumbs on the waistband of my leggings. “Don’t you want to feel me inside you?”
He knows I do. Of fucking course I do. He’s not the only one who’s been aching during our hiatus.
But that’s not the point. And he knows it.
“God, yes,” I breathe. “But?—”
HIs fingers stroke my outer lips and steal my next words in a gasp.
“But nothing.” His mouth travels to my neck and sucks, hard. At the same time, his thick finger teases my opening and we both hear just how wet he’s making me. “You are my wife. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy filling you. Opening you. Watching your face as you come apart.”
I hear his pants unzip.
“And you will come apart, Daphne. I’ll make sure you scream my name before you beg me to plant my baby inside you.”
I’m spun around and bent over the exam table before I have a chance to think of a response.
A winded grunt flies from my mouth when he enters me from behind. Hard. Deep. No time to spread my legs wider—no room to, either, with how my leggings are practically binding my knees together.
Pasha covers my mouth with his hand. “Fuck… Daphne…” His voice is hushed but filled with the same breathtaking pleasure I’m feeling, too.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
It’s everything at once.
He rewards my writhing with a loud smack to my ass. Too loud, maybe, but I’m too far gone to care. I feel him grip me where he spanked in something halfway between a soothing rub and possessive hold.
“You’re mine, Daphne Chekhov. Now and forever.”
His pace grows faster. Harder.
“You gave yourself to me.”
I can only moan my agreement, muffled by his hand on my mouth. When he hunches over me, his hips do this rolling move that works his cock so fucking deep inside me, I swear he’s hitting places I didn’t know I had.
But funnily enough, it’s the kisses on the back of my neck that send me over the edge.
That, and the way he breathes, “That’s it, Daphne. Give it to me. Give me that beautiful womb.”
If that’s a kink, I think he just unlocked it.
Pasha envelops me in his hold as I tremble and spasm and moan into his hand. All the while, he whispers praise and encouragement for taking him so good. For being such a perfect wife. Such a perfect mother.
“You want this with me, don’t you?” His hand presses possessively over my womb. “You want to feel me fill you up with my seed. You want to feel it slide out of you just as much as I want to watch you drip.”
Another spasm rolls through me.
Lord help me, I do.
I really fucking do.
It’s only a few more thrusts before I feel him thicken. He’s close. Panic lances through me once more, but I tell myself to breathe through it.
But to my surprise, he lets out a low growl and pulls out. Warmth splashes on my ass cheeks seconds later.
I feel him lean to the side and hear him grab a few tissues from the box in the exam side table. He’s gentle and thorough when he cleans me up and helps me tug my leggings back into place.
“What truly surprises me, though,” Pasha remarks, “is that, after everything, you think I’d risk your health.”
If I thought the sex was dizzying, keeping up with his roller coaster thought process is even worse. “Huh?” is all I manage to squeak out while my body still thrums with the afterglow of release.
“Daphne. Look at me.” He tips my chin up with a finger so my gaze meets his. He’s dead serious, even as his eyes are filled with a loving warmth. “I am going to fill you with my babies. There’s no way I’m not going to enjoy every inch of your body every damn day. But your health always comes first. Always. So if that means pulling out and painting your skin is what I have to do until you’re ready, so be it.”
I shiver. How is he able to word things in a way that keeps me wanting him? “Birth control would be easier, you know.”
He shrugs, uncaring. “If you think I don’t know that pulling out of you is hard, you’re crazy. I’ll just have to find a way to manage. Practice makes perfect, right?”