20. Sutton
SUTTON
“Istill have eight weeks of this, and I’m toddling along like a hippo,” I complain as I enter the kitchen still in my pajama shorts and top. “I’m very happy it’s the weekend.” I have to admit, I’m not that huge, and I’m sure it’s in my head, but my feet and back don’t enjoy the extra weight.
Foster is already dressed for the day in jeans and a shirt, and he smirks to himself because he has heard my complaints daily. “You’ve had a long week and are still insistent on wearing heels. Celeste still being Celeste?” he asks as he searches for something in the fridge.
I slide onto the stool at the island, my hand brushing the countertop for balance. “Nah. At least, she is treating me the same, with a workload that screams how she lacks empathy. But it’s okay, I asked her not to lighten my load. I’m pregnant, not incompetent.”
He emerges with a smoothie bottle and closes the door. “Very true. Still, I have a surprise for you if you’ll allow yourself to reap the pregnancy benefits.”
I strum my nails on the counter. “Do tell.”
Leaning his forearms onto the counter, he gives me that accomplished look. “I booked you a massage for today. The best pregnancy masseuse, apparently.”
I light up. “Ooh, that is a surprise I can get on board with.”
“Thought so. It’s at the club where I go to play squash with my dad, but apparently their spa is award winning in that department.”
I bring my finger to my chin in thought. “It’s perfect. I’m meeting Elodie and Savannah for a late lunch, and the restaurant is right around the corner from there, I think.”
He sprawls across the counter to give me a peck on the lips. “It works out then. I’ll probably have the guys over. It’s been a while.”
“Ah, you’re getting rid of me. I see your plan,” I tease him.
He grins. “But really, how are you feeling? You’ve been tossing and turning at night.”
I shift in my seat and gesture toward my belly. “Because your son decides that’s when he wants to kick the most,” I reply, rubbing my belly with a faint wince. “Plus, even sprawled across that body pillow, I’m not used to feeling so… big.” My shoulders tense as I recall another restless night.
“Is that it?”
Shrugging, a weary sigh escapes me as I run through the list in my head.
"I’m just always tired," I admit, rubbing my eyes.
"Also, even though the nursery is done, I still need to wash all of the new clothes and put them away.
" I force a small, anxious laugh. "It totally slipped my mind until a colleague told me that you need to wash everything first. I just keep stockpiling clothes in the corner of the room.
" I point a finger at him with mock sternness.
"Which you shall not sneak a peek at until I say.
" My hands tighten on the edge of the counter.
"I keep thinking we’re forgetting something.
We have time, but I don't know." My voice trembles slightly.
"You've seen all that stuff out there. Like, do we need a baby wrap for the city, then one for hiking, and another for beach walking? "
“When was the last time we went hiking?” he deadpans.
I snicker, knowing he’s right. “Still, maybe walking is the only way he’ll sleep. Some babies always need to move.”
“So, we are driving out of the city up to Wisconsin every time we need him to sleep?”
With a smile, I swat him. He keeps me grounded. “It’s a circus of options. My mom keeps texting that back in her day, you didn’t need so much stuff.”
He chuckles. “My dad is the same.”
Sighing, I accept that this is all part of nerves. “I mean… wow, he’ll be here… soon.”
His closed-mouth smile is tender. “We’ll be fine. Money can buy us anything we need at record speed. But that doesn’t matter. I think we’re more scared of going to the hospital than we are of returning with a baby.”
He nailed it. “That’s it.”
“Sounds like you need that relaxing massage.”
“Sounds like you need a beer with the guys,” I volley back.
Foster prowls my way around the island with half a smile stretched on one side. “Seems we both have plans then.”
I nod, but right now, I want something else. Taking a few steps, I slip into his arms. “We have a little time to kill.”
Our eyes meet, and we just know our thoughts are the same.
“Turn around. I need to fuck my wife real quick.”
Purring, I obey and plant my hands on the counter.
He’s quick to drag down my shorts and throws them to the side, leaving them hanging half off the edge of the counter.
The sound of his zipper being pulled is as good a warning as any.
This won’t be slow, and we are going to get to the point.
I’m insatiable, needy, and every time he fucks me, I relax. Foster isn’t complaining.
I adjust into a perfect ninety-degree angle, my bump in the air before the counter, as if the air is a pillow, my arms outstretched against the cool surface above my head.
His palm massages one circular movement on my behind, then skates along my body to my front, reaching the destination between my legs.
Humming a sound, I’m already getting hit with a dose of bliss. “I need this,” I say, my voice drowsy.
His mouth draws a line up my spine, only his breath hitting my skin, all the way to my earlobe that he nips with his teeth. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are carrying my baby? How every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what I did to you?” he whispers.
“Foster,” I breathe a warning that I’m teetering closer to a desperate orgasm. It’s unfair that he prolongs my need, but I love the things he whispers to me. My clit throbs from every word.
“You're needy today, Sutton, so I’ll be nice and give it to you quick and hard. I won’t be cruel and make you wait while my tongue tastes both your nipples and pussy. But make no mistake, I’ll use you.”
Dirty-talking Foster has been unleashed more while I’ve been pregnant. It makes me wild.
“Please,” I beg.
Hooding my heavy eyes closed, I sense him spit into the palm of his hand and give himself one stroke before he enters me, and I clench around him.
“Fuuuuck.” He enjoys his first pump before he gives me another, then more.
He squares my hips to keep me in exactly the angle he needs to hit every spot that feels good for both of us. When he’s confident that we are exactly where we need to be, his hands move to lift my upper body slightly to reach under and cup my breast.
The moment his fingers begin to flick my nipples between the pads of his fingers, I let out a shameless, loud moan. The sensitivity is overwhelming.
It only encourages him to thrust deeper and quicker inside of me.
“I know you’re close.” He grunts as his own pleasure is building. “This body drives me crazy. So perfectly fuckable.”
I throw him a glance over my shoulder. “All your doing,” I remind him. “You’re the one who fucked me so deep that you put a baby inside of me.” A faint smile finds me when I say that.
We somehow become out of control yet purposefully on a path to an ending we both crave.
And when we get there, he gently collapses with his arms draping over me, his cheek against my back, and he stays inside me a little longer.
“If it keeps feeling like this once our son is here, I’ll have to put another baby inside of you as soon as I can.” His sarcasm still deserves a response.
Glancing over my shoulder with a funny glare, I have to chide, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
The massage did everything I needed it to. I left feeling relaxed and as though I were floating. I sink into my chair at the Italian restaurant nearby. My chair has a blue balloon attached, and the table is covered in blue confetti and a bag with tissue paper. Savannah and Elodie surprised me.
“You don’t want a baby shower, so we are having a baby shower-ish lunch. We can get away with that, right?” Savannah checks as she sips from her pink bellini.
I wave them off. “I have so many relaxation endorphins right now that I can’t even say no.”
Elodie hands me a glass of water with a fresh strawberry in it, served in a flute. I accept it—something I’ve liked lately, as my love of wine and coffee had to take a break. Elodie smiles and says, “Remind me to book whatever you had. You are very Zen, and I could use that.”
“Your little princess turning into something else less delightful?” Savannah asks, and it causes me to chuckle at her phrasing.
Elodie straightens her posture. “She’s… expressing her feelings,” she explains tightly. It’s obvious her daughter has entered a new phase.
“Now isn’t the time to scare me off of what’s coming,” I humorously remind her.
“You’re fine. How is the father-to-be? Freaking out yet?” she wonders.
Shaking my head, I can honestly say, “No. He’s calmer than me.
Always has been, from day one. I think he’s also busy with work and has had a few business trips.
He’s occupied. Plus, he isn’t the one physically doing this.
But there is never a debate about anything.
We’re having someone come to coach us on what to do for the big day.
I’m kind of intent on avoiding pain, so all options are on the table for how to deal with that. ”
Savannah beams. “I was Elodie’s partner in crime for her labor. If you ever need backup, then I’m a pro.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” However, Foster wouldn’t miss the day for the world.
The waiter arrives in a white shirt and a black apron from the waist down. He sets a basket of bread down and asks us what we would like. We order a few things, and then he disappears.
I angle to Savannah. “How was the honeymoon?”
Her skin is perfectly sun-kissed. “Fantastic. I didn’t want to leave the Seychelles. Alas, life awaited. You should do a babymoon.”
Shaking my head, I pour a little olive oil onto my plate. “Tempting, but it feels a little cliché, no?”
Elodie shoots her hand out and grips my wrist. “Do it. I repeat, do it. Take in every moment you can before the baby arrives. You don’t know what sleep pattern awaits,” she says, adamant.