Bonus Chapter #4
“You know,” he pensively starts, “when you become a parent, you think you know what’s best for your child.
Which career, which life, which path they should take …
But in the end, all that really matters is to see your kids happy.
Who cares how they got there or what they chose to do or who they became? Their happiness is what matters.”
“I’m starting to get that, yes.”
Michael turns around, looking at his wife and daughter in the kitchen.
“She was always a merry girl, constantly smiling and quick to make friends,” he explains.
“But she’s blossomed since meeting you. She’s radiating happiness all the time.
I wasn’t too sure about you at first, but I was wrong, Lex.
You’re exactly what she needed to become the happiest version of herself. ”
It’s my turn to look back at the kitchen, watching Andrea beam as her mother laughs about something she just told her. She is happy. We are. Ridiculously so. We’ve had a couple of downs in our marriage, the usual shit. But overall, we’ve been perfectly happy.
“All I do is love her,” I tell her father, returning my attention to him.
“And you do it really well, son.”
He taps my back, fatherly and approving, and I turn to my wife again. She’s looking at me this time, questioningly.
“All good,” I sign discreetly.
“Now,” Michael starts, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ve been training since the last time. Playing chess on my phone at the hardest setting. I think I can give you quite a run for your money this time.”
“Should we try?”
“Yes. Best of three?”
“Sure.”
Michael goes to get the chess set in the game room, and I use that opportunity to rejoin my wife in the kitchen. “Is everything okay here? Do you need help?”
“Mijo, you got good at cooking, but we got this,” Isabella answers.
When Andrea sees her father return with the chessboard, she winces. “Again?”
“He’s been training.”
“Be kind to him. He’s getting old.”
“He’s my age!” Isabella protests.
“You’re getting old, too, Mom.”
Her mother expresses her displeasure in Spanish, calling her an ungrateful daughter and reminding her to respect her elders. The sermon isn’t over when Michael calls me over, and I only leave because Andrea is smiling, amused by her mother’s reaction.
Yes, we’re happy. And it’s all that really matters.
With my back against the headboard, I wait on the bed, curious to see what Andrea is doing in the en suite. It’s been a solid twenty minutes since the shower stopped, and she still hasn’t come out. Her nighttime routine isn’t usually that long, so I sense something is afoot.
When the door opens, she doesn’t exit, staying hidden behind it instead.
“Are the boys asleep?” she asks from there.
“Fast asleep, yes.”
“My parents?”
“In their bed, watching their show.”
“Is the door locked?”
“Yes.”
I can hear her wide smile when she then says, “I bought myself a little gift from you.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I even used your credit card.”
“You sneaky little …”
“Lex, you bought me a whole island. Calm down.”
“I’m calm. Only a little impatient to see what gift I got you.”
The door finally opens wide, and she poses in its frame.
She’s wearing a very lacy and very sheer babydoll, from which her round belly pokes out.
The matching thong is ridiculously small and equally transparent.
She styled her long hair to fall freely on her shoulders and back, and she wears red lipstick with smoky eyes.
I’m practically drooling as she walks in, rolling her hips and revealing more and more to my view. This ensemble serves no purpose other than to be ripped apart, because I can see everything.
Yeah, we’re definitely having a fourth child at some point, unless I get a vasectomy again. There’s no way I’m not putting another baby in my wife when this is what she looks like.
“So? What do you think?” she purrs, turning around to give me the full view.
“I think I have immaculate taste.”
“In lingerie?”
“In women. Come here, my love. Let me unwrap you like it’s my birthday instead of yours.”
She gets on at the foot of the bed and then crawls her way to me. I’m nothing but her faithful worshipper as she comes all the way up and straddles me.
“You’re not meant to unwrap me. This stays on.”
She takes my hand and brings it between her legs. I touch her where she wants me, and realize her underwear is crotchless. Yes, this absolutely stays on.
Her pussy’s already wet, which tells me she’s been thinking about all the things I’ll do to her as she got ready. I play with the drenched expanse, teasing her, bringing out more of that sleek arousal.
“Did you have a good birthday, my darling?”
“It was amazing. I like when we host a party with everyone, but this was also very nice.”
We usually invite all her friends and some members of her family to celebrate, but she didn’t feel up to it this year, too pregnant to enjoy it. That’s why I did the best I could to compensate for it, giving the boys carte blanche for anything they wanted to get their mommy.
“Was there anything you missed this year?” I ask coyly, pumping three fingers in and out of her.
“Hmm … There’s this one thing …”
“Tell me.”
“Well, I’ve been edged the whole goddamn day,” she explains, feigning innocence.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It was. So I really, really, really missed …” Her clever hand is slithering down my front, all the way to my cock in the confines of my briefs.
“You missed what?” I groan.
“My husband’s big cock.”
She fists me through the fabric, claiming my lips at the same time. My fingers keep fucking her as she undulates, her tongue and mine lost in a dance they know by heart.
I love when she’s on top, especially pregnant like this, but she hasn’t been able to maintain that position for a couple of months. So, as much as I’d like to keep things this way, I flip us around.
“Do you have any last words before I fuck you so good you pass out for the rest of the night?” I ask into our kiss.
“Do your worst,” she dares, smiling like the little brat she is.
“Oh, now you’ve done it, my greedy dork.”
It’s on. It’s so. Fucking. On.
With clenched teeth, trying my best to hold back a whimper of pain, I ride through the contraction. My entire stomach is painfully flexed, so hard I can barely breathe.
Once the involuntary tensing of my muscles stops, I take a moment to fill my lungs a few times. When I gaze up at the mirror, my face is red, my eyes are glassy, and I look exhausted. Fuck, they’re getting much closer to each other. We need to go now.
I showered, put on comfortable clothes, and the maternity bags have been ready for a month.
We started with just one, filling it with the basics.
But we kept finding new things to add to it, things we were missing the first two times.
So now we have two bags to take with us, and I’m not so sure why exactly I ever thought having an essential oil diffuser was that important.
Everything is ready except my husband, who’s still peacefully sleeping in our bed, oblivious to what’s happening to me.
The five back-to-back orgasms were so amazing, it seems they triggered the delivery.
I waited, barely getting any sleep between the contractions, to be sure it wasn’t a false alarm.
But when my water broke about forty minutes ago, I had to accept this is it. Our baby girl wants out.
Gazing at my reflection one last time, I gather the strength to go get him. Shit, I’m so heavy on my feet … Lex will miss my wobbly walk, but at least he’ll stop teasing me about it.
In the dim light of our room, I find the bed and sit on his side. It’s the dead of the night, with only the glow of my nightstand lamp on the lowest setting. On his clock, I see it’s 4:03 a.m.
Lex is still heavily sleeping, his handsome face serene and calm. Not for long. He’s still turned toward my side after I crawled my way out of his embrace to hurry to the shower.
With a soft hand, I graze his hair, gently trying to pull him out of slumber. “Baby, wake up,” I whisper. No reaction. Shaking his shoulder a little, I insist. “Lex, wake up.”
This time works better, and he stirs awake. His eyes flutter open, his sleepy confusion rather endearing.
“Andrea, what are you doing?” he mumbles with a hoarse voice. He checks his alarm clock, his disorientation deepening. “It’s the middle of the night. Come back to bed.”
With his hand, he pats the mattress on my side to mark his words. Swiftly, I stop him, grabbing his biceps. “No, don’t touch there! It’s wet.”
He processes my words for a moment, his brain a little more awake now. “Ah, okay. I see. You go to the shower, I’ll change the sheets.”
Oh … I had a couple of accidents with the boys, following a nocturnal kick to the bladder, so I understand why he’d think that.
“It’s not pee, baby. It’s amniotic fluid.”
That wakes him up better than a slap would have. He springs up, eyes wide. “Your water broke?!”
“Yes.”
“When?!”
“Forty-something minutes ago.”
“And you’re only telling me now?!”
“I needed some quiet time. Can you get ready, please? We need to go.”
He jumps off the bed and rushes to the walk-in closet, buck naked. “Are you having contractions?” he asks from there.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“It started right after the birthday slex.”
He appears in the doorway, visibly scandalized. “That was hours ago, Andrea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How many times did you drag me to the hospital for Gabriel, and it ended up being a false alarm?”
“Five,” he admits, returning inside to finish changing.
“And for Newt?”
“Three.”
“Do you want to ask your question again?”
“No. Let’s go.”
I wince at the outfit he chose. “I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like this. You look deranged.”
He stares down at the green T-shirt and red sweatpants. “I picked in the dark. It’s fine,” he protests.
“It’s not. I prepared your outfit. It’s on the chest of drawers by the mirror.”
“Are you serious right now?”