Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tre
The explosion, chase, and gunfire left me rattled—no pun intended. I’m grateful the hit-and-run, the mercenary, nor the poisoning killed me. I could even go so far as to say the threats of miscarriage were false alarms. The more shit goes wrong, the more I want Joaquin nearby.
“Daddy, I’m cold.”
We’re getting ready for bed, and I just finished getting undressed. Joaquin steps behind me and wraps his arms around me. I turn in his embrace and put my icy hands on his cheeks.
“I have some ways to warm you up. Even make you overheat, chiquita.”
Blessedly, Tío Enrique and Tía Elle’s—that one’s taking a bit more getting used to—room is at the other end of the house—mansion. Is it a demotion that she went from being like a second mom to being an aunt? Or is it even better that we’ll finally be family.
There’s no doubt Joaquin and I are getting married. It’s just a question of when he proposes and when we set the wedding date. We’ve talked about it. We don’t want any of this shit to overshadow what should be among the most momentous occasions in our lives.
He grasps my wrists and lowers my hands as he kisses me. He guides my right hand to my lower back while my left hand cups his dick. Fuck if he doesn’t have the best dick ever. Anyone who says size doesn’t matter either has a micropenis or has only fucked a micropenis.
It’s the feelings that matter.
Yeah, the feel of this dick filling me until I can’t take any more.
I’ve had a dirty mind since forever. But the things I think about doing with Joaquin would make me a million dollars in the porn industry. We’ve had sex in front of mirrors; I know we’re good.
“Like what you feel, chica?”
“Mhmm.”
I tighten my hold as I rub him over his boxer briefs. I’m naked; he’s not. I find that super-hot. Even if he’s only in his boxer briefs, the contrast does something to me.
I gaze at his sculpted body, and I know I’m getting wetter.
He’s genetically blessed with good health and good looks.
Sure, he knows he’s hot, but his body is the product of hard work.
Not the kind that comes from wanting to impress others or even a personal sense of satisfaction.
It’s the result of hours a day of conditioning.
He needs the strength these muscles produce to keep him alive.
I hate thinking about the number of times he’s had to run or fight.
He has the scars to prove it’s been far too many.
I hate knowing I could lose him any time he leaves the house.
But I love him too much to walk away. It’s not about the baby.
We’d figure out how to co-parent separately if we didn’t love each other.
“We didn’t have dessert tonight. I’m still hungry. I think a little midnight feast on peaches and cream will tide me over till morning.”
When he fucks you again after a night of marathon sex.
Neither of us has a sluggish sex drive, especially when it’s safe for us to fuck or make love.
“Mmm. I’m in the mood for a cannolo.”
I grin as I slide my hand over his cock before cupping his balls. He moves that hand to meet the other at my lower back.
“Turn around, little girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He leaves me and walks to the closet. He already had some clothes here—apparently, all the guys leave clothes at one another’s houses since they’re all large enough for everyone to have their own room.
We picked up stuff from my place and additional things from his on the way here from the hospital this morning.
All I know is that we’re likely to be here for a while.
He returns with a tie he wraps around my wrists.
He presses against my inner forearms to see if there’s any give.
Just enough to keep from cutting off my circulation without a chance I’ll get free until he releases me.
He steps away again, leaving me near the center of the room, and I hear a dresser drawer opening.
He’s going to our toys and implements. A shiver of excitement courses through me.
I pulled Madeline aside earlier and asked her if there’s any reason we should abstain from kink.
She said as long as we’re cautious and stop the moment anything feels off, we’re fine.
The main thing was getting cleared for sex again.
I much preferred asking my soon-to-be sister-in-law than my soon-to-be aunt-in-law.
As my midwife, I know I can talk to Tía Margherita about this, but no.
I don’t want to ask a woman I now consider an aunt whether I can bang her nephew.
“You’ve been a naughty chiquita?”
“I have?”
“Oh, yes. Tempting me in front of my family. Making me hard every time I’m near you. Being a distraction at all hours of the day and night.”
“Sounds like I have been very naughty.”
“Sounds like someone needs punishing.”
I don’t know where this scene is going—I always trust Joaquin to play out things we’ll both enjoy.
Even when penetrative sex has been off the table, he’s come up with kinky ways for us to give and receive oral.
Sometimes he asks for my suggestions or preferences, but usually, I’m happy as a clam to let him lead.
He craves control in everything, and I’m happy to not have to think about what comes next.
He’s felt out of control with everything that’s happened, so if I can give him back some of that while we’re intimate, then I’ll do it all damn day—and night.
I’ve felt completely out of control for the last few weeks.
Knowing Joaquin can control at least some parts of our lives makes me feel safe.
Joaquin walks over to the bed, his arms overflowing with the things we purchased before my last hospital stay.
I think he has everything that was in the drawer.
He lays out the implements by type. Impact play—whip, crop, paddle, and flogger.
Sensation play—nipple clamps, Wartenberg pinwheel, feather wand, and blindfold.
Bondage and restraint play—collar, handcuffs, padded cuffs, and spreaders. Wax play—candles we’ve yet to light.
All the things.
He runs his hands over my tits, massaging them as he supports their increasing weight.
I’ve already moved from a C cup to a D. I can only imagine how big they’ll be once my milk comes in.
He rests his right forearm beneath them as his left fingers pluck and tug at my nipples.
He’s highly attuned to all my reactions.
When my nipples are hard and pointy, he stops playing with them and slides his hand to my belly.
I fucking love it when he does this. The heat from his palm feels good.
I love the security it gives me, the sense of safety, the knowledge that I belong to and with him.
As he presses his hips forward, his cock presses between my ass cheeks.
He belongs to me just as much. His cock is where it belongs—touching only me.
“Are you still too sore?”
“Joaco, they pumped my stomach over a week ago. You know where my tender spots are. I trust you.”
“Baby girl, I know you do. Hearing that makes me feel like the king of the world. I want to be sure laying you over my lap or onto the mattress won’t hurt you.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Does he hear how eager I am? He chuckles, so I think he either hears it in my tone or sees it in my eyes. Maybe both.
He leads me to the bed, and we study the impact devices. He selects a crop with a wide keeper—the flat part at the end. He wants each spank to cover the widest area. We have a crop with a narrow keeper. That’ll send intense isolated sensations.
With his hand at my lower back, between my arms, he steers me to the left side of the bed.
Any time we’re doing something out of bed, we’re on the far side of the room.
Reasonably, we both know no one’s breaking into this house.
If by some rarest of chance they did, they’d be dead before they made it to a bedroom.
But it reassures Joaquin that he can hide me.
With his sixth sense, I don’t fear him having his back to the door.
I know he does it so he’d be the easier target.
I have faith it would never come to that.
His fingers slide over my ass, the fingertips easing into the crease until he reaches my pussy. His fingertips graze the already swollen flesh. He presses the length of them against my opening, rubbing back and forth, never quite touching my clit. I close my eyes, reveling in every sensation.
“So wet for me already, chica.”
“Always, Daddy.”
It’s true. Joaquin jokingly complains that he’s always hard. The difference is, his boxer briefs and trousers hide his erection. I’m constantly worried I’ll stand up with a puddle on the back of my skirt or pants.
“What should we do about that?”
He takes some of the wetness and rubs it around my puckered hole.
He taps it once before going back to my cunt.
His touch is torture. I just want him to sink his fingers into me.
Instead, he adjusts my arms, so they’re bent and out of the way.
The moment he touches my clit, he brings the crop down on my left ass cheek. My back arches, and I stomp my feet.
“Chiquita?”
“I’m all right. I promise. Somehow, I always forget how much it stings.”
Mothertrucker!
It hurts like a motherfucker.
“Do you need me to be lighter?”
“No. That was just right.”
He continues, alternating sides, as he rubs my clit. Stimulating my clit is what’ll get me off, but that’s not what I need.
“Daddy, please put your fingers in me. I’m so empty.”
“I know, baby girl. I’m not filling you until it’s my cock. And we’re still in the middle of your punishment for being such a temptation.”
He flicks my ass again. I moan, need and pain coalescing into a consuming blaze. I shift, and Joaquin stops immediately.
“I’m just impatient, Joaco. It’s not because I’m uncomfortable. I mean, my ass burns with the heat of a thousand suns. But my belly’s fine. Promise.”
“Okay.”
He doesn’t sound as sure as he usually does.
“I’ll tell you the moment I get any twinges.”
“Twinge. Not twinges.”