Now #2
“I love you, princess,” he murmurs.
“I love you, Hot Wheels.”
One last peck and he returns to his chair. The obstetrician takes a few screenshots for us, then Jax helps me clean up the slimy gel from my stomach while he returns to his desk.
Probably sensing the concerns that linger within me, Jax promises, “Everything will be alright, Evie. We’ll have a healthy, perfect baby girl in the spring. And you’ll be the best mom there’s ever been.”
“You’ll be a pretty decent dad, too,” I say, before mumbling, “when you’re around.”
“Hey now, this is the life we signed up for, remember? And it’s not like I’ll be doing this my whole life. Just a few years, and then I’m all yours.”
The prospect makes me smile. “Mine and hers,” I correct him, grazing my stomach as I pull my top down.
“And probably more kids by then.”
Right. The house he’ll buy for us in Italy will be filled with the joyous sounds of children playing, laughing, and running around. I have no doubt about it.
This place is so quiet. Even with the birds and the cicadas, there’s something utterly still about the atmosphere here. We feel completely cut off from the world, as if Jax and I are the only two people left on earth.
We might as well be, given how we’ve ignored all our responsibilities for almost a week now. I took my laptop out when I arrived, but I haven’t worked since. Jax has been taking calls but pushed back his obligations. We’re entirely devoted to one another, wrapped in our Tuscan bubble.
Every morning, I walk down to the pond with a cup of coffee to sit on the bench and look at the weeping willow. It’s not much, but it’s my way to atone for moving on. For setting an ocean between her and me.
But I couldn’t stay. I was slowly dying inside, unable to heal.
The bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand began calling to me, promising a more permanent solution than the brief numbness that came with each pill.
The day I realized where all that inconsolable sadness would lead, I packed a suitcase and left.
It was better to walk away than stay and let Jackson eventually find my lifeless body.
It looked like I was abandoning him. But in reality, I was sparing him.
As Jackson says, what matters is that I found my way back.
And we’ve been making up for lost time. Unless he’s exercising, we’re practically glued at the hip.
We eat together, sleep together, relax together, make love …
The effortless intimacy we used to have has returned in full force.
We aren’t just lovers anymore. We’re each other’s best friends, like we used to be.
There’s nothing we can’t discuss, no embarrassing story we can’t share, no secrets we can’t confess …
He is my person. It’s never been clearer to me.
And as pathetic as it sounds, I miss him in moments like these, alone in the pool while he works out. Even the sumptuous landscape of the Tuscan countryside isn’t enough to distract me.
I’m so screwed. There’s no way I can return to Colorado after all this. No way I can live away from him.
When I hear the French doors open behind me, I turn away from the view and face the house. My heart beats faster at the sight of him, still soaked from his daily cold bath, his navy swim shorts sticking to him.
“How was training?” I ask, swimming then walking toward him, to the shallower side of the pool.
“Good. Intense.” He’s shaking a little, his dark nipples pebbled from the cold water.
I’m wearing the white swimsuit he likes, the one that gets just sheer enough to reveal what’s beneath, and his gaze appreciatively falls to my breasts when the water reaches below them.
He sits by the poolside in front of me, his legs in the warm water, but before he can let himself slip in, I stop him. “Wait.”
“What?”
I rest my hands on his muscular thighs, his skin cool to the touch, and drag them up, slipping under the wet fabric of his shorts. “I want to see it,” I playfully confess.
When he understands what I mean, he shakes his head.
“Why?” I whine with a pout.
“I just spent twenty minutes in cold-as-fuck water.”
“And?”
“And I have my pride, Evangeline. I’m not letting you see my shrunken dick.”
Still grazing his upper thighs, I inch closer and say, “If you let me see it, I’ll help it warm up.”
My offer intrigues him, and he considers it with an eyebrow cocked up. “How?”
“I’m sure we can find a place that’s hot and cozy. Maybe with a tongue, for some warming friction.”
It only takes him three more seconds to agree with a nod.
When I excitedly reach for the waistband of his shorts, he uses his powerful arms to lift himself up. I tug the garment all the way down his legs and let it float away in the water, focused on the object of my curiosity.
“Hey there, little guy,” I coo, coming between Jackson’s spread knees.
He stares down at me with an unamused expression, but I ignore him. It looks about half its usual resting size, and the heavy masses underneath are drawn up tight. It’s not necessarily small for a resting penis, but definitely smaller than what I’m used to with him.
“It looks adorable like this,” I tell Jax, knowing it’ll annoy him.
“Let’s see if you still find it adorable when it’s ramming down your throat.”
His hand comes to the back of my head and pulls me in, reminding me of my promise.
With a grin, I take it into my mouth, keeping my hands on his bare thighs.
It’s so easy when it’s this size. It fits my mouth without a struggle, and I can toy with it using my tongue, sliding it around as I hollow my cheeks and suck.
Jax lets out a mumbled curse, his hand on the back of my head keeping me close as he leans back slightly.
To my disappointment, it doesn’t remain shrunken very long.
It expands fast between my lips, hardening, thickening.
Before I’ve had time to really enjoy how easy it is, it becomes a mouthful.
And soon after that, it’s more than I can take without some sacrifices for my comfort or breathing.
That’s when I begin using my hands. One wraps around the thick base, the other cups the sacks below, fondling them.
With all the rapturous hours we’ve shared since our reunion, I’ve become reacquainted with this. So when I take him farther down, way past my tonsils, the gagging isn’t as bad anymore. In fact, my throat doesn’t even try to reject him, opening wide to welcome his girth.
“Fuck, Evie,” he moans as his fingers tangle in my hair. “Best fucking mouth I’ve ever had …”
The praise echoes through me, first in my chest, then lower, where a tingle has been growing. With a moan that gets muffled by his length, I press my knees together.
Eager to please him, to earn another compliment, I keep sucking him in and out of my mouth, his skin glistening with spit. One of his hands comes between us and fondles my breast. My lips are pursed against the trimmed base when he pinches a nipple, making me whimper around him.
While my gag reflex got better, my jaw still has some training to do. When it aches too much, I pull away completely, pumping him with my hand instead. His eyes are dark, ravenous with want and pleasure, traveling between my parted mouth, my teary eyes, and my heavy breasts below.
I let go of him and tug at the cups of my bikini, pulling them aside and freeing the heavy masses. His pupils widen at the sight of my hardened nipples, and he instinctively licks his full lips.
“Lean back a little,” I order, my voice unsteady.
He does as I asked, using an arm to hold himself at an angle, and I bring my heavy chest to his crotch.
“Fuck,” he drawls out as I tuck his spit-covered length between the heavy swells and squish them together.
We haven’t done this since we’ve started over. But he used to love it when I used my breasts like this. Seems like he still does, given the way his hips jolt up uncontrollably.
I keep my eyes on his as I gently rock up and down, pleasuring him in the hot, tight space I’ve made for him.
As if overwhelmed, he leans back a little further on his elbow.
That allows me to take the round tip in my mouth while still looking up at him.
The salty taste of precum coats my tongue as it twirls around the smooth head, drawing more breathy moans and whimpered curses out of him.
He’s getting close. So close.
When I pull away, his tip is red, almost purple. His climax is nearly here.
“Where do you want to come?” I ask, voice laced with need.
He thinks about it for a brief instant, then decides, “Your tits.”
My clit pulses, and I know I’m soaked. When this is over, I’ll have to work him up to another erection so he can take care of me next.