Every Ordinary Tuesday
Fuse
A few weeks later, I tell Nora to take the day off.
"Marcy's got it covered," I say, before she can argue. "Be ready by seven. Wear something you don't mind me taking off you later."
"Fuse—"
"Seven."
She doesn't know I spent the whole afternoon inside her own shop, Marcy running interference at the door with a hand-lettered CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT sign and a grin she couldn't wipe off her face all day.
I picked the shop on purpose. This is where it started—the counter she wiped down that didn't need wiping, the chair I sat in for months nursing coffee I never drank, the exact stretch of floor where Rose interrogated me about the size of my arms.
Figured if I was going to ask her to marry me, I wasn't doing it anywhere else.
I string lights across the ceiling myself, tangled twice, cursed twice as much fixing it. Candles down the length of the counter, on every table, enough of them that the whole place glows warm instead of the flat fluorescent hum she works under every morning.
I move the tables to the edges, clear the floor space. I've got the same song we danced to in the street queued up on a speaker behind the counter, ready to go the second she walks in.
Dinner's my own doing, not catered. Ash laughed himself sick when I asked Sunshine to walk me through a recipe over the phone twice, but I got it right on the third try,
and it's sitting warm on the counter in real dishes instead of takeout containers when Nora's headlights swing into the lot at seven on the dot.
She stops dead in the doorway.
"Fuse."
"Figured you deserved better than a mop bucket the next time I asked you to dance." I cross to her, holding out a hand exactly the way I did on Main Street weeks ago. "One dance. Same rules."
"You did all this."
"Took me all afternoon and most of my dignity." I pull her in, one hand landing low on her back exactly where it did the first time. "Worth it."
She laughs, real, the one I spent chasing before I ever got to hear it, and lets me pull her the rest of the way in. We're not any better at this than we were the first time. She still steps on my boot. I still don't care.
"I've been thinking," I say, against her hair.
"That's dangerous."
"About every ordinary Tuesday. The ones I promised you." I stop moving. Pull back far enough to look at her. "Wasn't lying when I said I wanted all of it. Figured I should make it official instead of just hoping you remember the promise."
I drop to one knee right there on the floor where I first saw her face, and pull the ring out of my jacket pocket where it's been riding for four days, burning a hole through the leather.
"Marry me. Not because of the baby, not because it's the practical thing. Because I've never wanted anything the way I want a lifetime of boring Tuesdays with you and Rose and whoever else we end up making along the way."
Her hands come up over her mouth. Eyes bright, same as the night I told her I loved her.
"Yes." Barely a whisper, then louder, like she needs to hear herself say it to believe it's real. "Yes, Fuse."
I slide the ring on with hands that are somehow steadier than they've ever been for anything else in my life, and when I stand, she's already reaching for me, already pulling my mouth down to hers like weeks of planning this exact moment couldn't move fast enough for either of us.
The kiss isn't frantic this time. No fear behind it, no adrenaline burning through both of us at once. Just the two of us, finally standing still long enough to feel what we've built.
"Dinner's getting cold," I tell her, forehead against hers.
"Dinner can wait."
She tugs me toward the back of the shop, past the stockroom door, and stops dead again when she sees what's waiting through it—a bed I hauled in that afternoon with Ash's help and a lot of complaining on his end, made up with actual sheets,
more candles flickering along the shelving I cleared out to make room.
"You didn't."
"Wasn't sending you home tonight. Not after that." I back her toward it slow, hands finding her waist. "Figured we'd start the engagement right."
The candlelight catches on the ring I slid onto her finger twenty minutes ago. I carried that damn thing in my cut pocket for days, turning it between my fingers during club meetings and long rides, waiting for the right moment.
She's lying back on the pillows in nothing but the sexiest pink bra and panty set I’ve ever seen, the cotton damp against her, hair fanned out and messy, skin still flushed from earlier.
My eyes drop to her chest. Can't stop them.
Haven't been able to stop them for weeks now, not since her body started changing, since her breasts started swelling with my kid inside her.
The bra cups are tight, flesh spilling over the edges, and the sight of it makes my cock thicken against my zipper.
"You're staring again," she says, but there's no complaint in it. Her voice has that low, warm rasp it gets when she's turned on. Her fingers pick at the sheets.
"Been staring at you for more months than I care to admit." I step closer to the bed, pull my cut off, lay it over her desk chair. "You noticed."
"I noticed." Her throat moves. "Thought you were just being protective."
"Both." I kneel on the mattress, one knee first, then the other, and the bed dips under my weight. I reach for the clasp of her bra, and her breath catches when my knuckles brush the curve of her spine.
The hooks come undone one by one. I slide the straps down her arms, slow, peeling the fabric away from her body like I'm unwrapping something I've been saving.
Her breasts fall free, and my mouth goes dry.
They're bigger. Noticeably bigger than even a few weeks ago, fuller, heavier, the skin stretched taut and smooth, blue veins visible underneath like rivers on a map. Her nipples are darker than before, a deep rose, already hard, already pebbled.
"Fuck, Nora." The words come out rough, scraped. I cup one in my hand, and the weight of it fills my palm and then some. She's warm, so warm, the tissue swollen and dense under my fingers.
She inhales sharp through her teeth when my thumb drags across her nipple. "Sensitive," she manages. "Really sensitive."
"I can tell." I'm not looking at her face. Can't. I lower my mouth to her breast, and she arches off the bed when my tongue finds her nipple.
After licking a slow circle around the hardened peak, I draw it into my mouth, sucking gently, and she makes a sound I've never heard from her before. High, thin, almost pained. Her hand comes up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, holding me against her.
I switch to the other breast, treating it the same way.
Tongue first, then lips, then a gentle scrape of teeth that makes her hips buck.
I cup both of them, push them together, run my tongue along the valley between them, tasting salt and vanilla and something underneath that's just her.
My thumbs work both nipples at once, rolling, pressing, and her thighs are shaking against mine.
"Fuse—" She pulls my head up, and her eyes are glassy, cheeks dark, lips parted. "I need—I've been wanting to—"
"What." I'm still holding her tits, thumbs still moving.
She sits up, pushes at my chest until I'm kneeling upright, and her hands go to my belt.
Her fingers are shaking. "I've been thinking about this since the first time I saw you without a shirt. Since you were working on your bike behind the clubhouse—" She gets the buckle undone, yanks the leather free.
"You took your shirt off to wipe your face and I saw—" The button pops.
The zipper comes down. "And I couldn't stop thinking about it."
She reaches into my jeans, and her hand wraps around my cock, and my hips jerk forward on instinct. She pulls me free, and for a second she just holds me, staring, and I watch her throat work as she swallows.
"Through a condom," she says, almost to herself. "You got me pregnant through a fucking condom."
"Rubber broke." My voice doesn't sound like mine. "Didn't know until—"
"Until I took the test and you saw my face." She leans forward, and her breath is hot on the head of my cock, and my entire body goes rigid. "I want to taste what made this baby."
She takes me into her mouth, and my hand fists in the sheets so hard my knuckles go white. Fuck. The sight of her—lips parting, eyes flicking up to mine, the way she sinks down like she’s been starving for this—nearly undoes me.
I’ve had her under me, around me, but this is different. This is her choosing it. Claiming it. Claiming me. My free hand finds the back of her head, not pushing, just holding on, because if I don’t anchor myself to something I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
The heat hits first. Wet, slick heat wrapping around the head, and then she sinks down, taking inch after inch, her lips stretched tight around my shaft.
She can't take all of it. I'm too thick, too long, and she gags when she gets about two-thirds down, pulls back, drool connecting her bottom lip to my cock in a silver string.
"Fuck, Nora—"
She goes again. Deeper this time, her throat relaxing, and I feel the muscles constrict around me as she fights her gag reflex. Her hand wraps around the base where her mouth can't reach, stroking in rhythm with her head.
The sounds she's making are obscene. Wet, slurping, choking sounds, spit running down her chin and dripping onto her chest, onto her swollen breasts.
I pull her hair back from her face, gather it in my fist, hold it out of the way so I can watch.
"That's it. Just like that. Take it slow—don't rush."
She looks up at me with those huge eyes, my cock stretching her mouth, and something in my chest cracks open.
"Use your tongue more on the head. Yeah—right there. Fuck, yes. Just like that."
She follows every instruction, eager, her tongue swirling around the ridge, dipping into the slit, tasting the precum that's leaking steadily now. Her other hand finds my balls, rolls them in her palm, and my spine locks up.
"Deeper. You can take more." I push my hips forward, gently, and she opens her throat and takes me until her nose hits my stomach, and the back of her throat spasms around the head of my cock.
She pulls back gasping, tears in her eyes, spit everywhere, and goes right back down. “I love sucking your cock, Fuse.”
My thighs are shaking. The pressure is building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up, and I can feel it coming, that tight coil about to snap. Her mouth is so hot, so wet, and she's moaning around me, the vibration traveling straight through my cock into my gut.
"Nora—I'm close—"
She doubles down, sucks harder, and I grab her by the shoulders and pull her off. My cock slides out of her mouth with a wet pop, and she makes a frustrated noise, reaching for me.
"Not like that," I say, breathing hard. "Not in your mouth. Not tonight."
I pull her up, kiss her hard, taste myself on her tongue, and then I'm flat on my back, pulling her on top of me. "Ride me. I want to watch you."
She straddles me, and I reach between us, yank her panties to the side instead of taking them off.
Her pussy is soaked, dripping, and when she sinks down onto my cock, we both groan.
She's always so fucking tight, and she takes me slowly, inch by inch, her head thrown back, the candles painting her body in gold.
"Fuck, you're big—" Her voice breaks on the last word as she bottoms out.
"Take your time, baby." My hands go to her hips, steadying her. "You feel incredible."
She starts to move. Slow at first, rolling her hips, finding the angle, and then faster, grinding down on me with purpose.
Her breasts bounce with every movement, heavy and full, swaying, and I can't look away.
The candlelight catches the curve of them, the dark nipples, the stretch marks, the veins, and I'm transfixed.
"Touch yourself," I tell her. "Play with your tits."
She cups them both, lifts them, squeezes, and her fingers pinch her own nipples while she rides me. The sight hits me like a punch. With a moan, Nora moves faster now, bouncing on my cock.
Her tits sway and jiggle with every thrust. I reach up and grab one, knead it, feeling the weight of it in my palm while she fucks me.
"You're so fucking beautiful." The words come out raw, unfiltered. "Carrying my baby. These tits, this body—" I thrust up into her, hard, and she cries out. "You're mine, Nora. This is mine. All of it."
"Yes—" She grinds in circles now, her clit pressed against my pubic bone, and I can feel her getting close. The walls of her pussy flutter, clenching my dick in a vice. "Yours—all yours—"
"Look at you." I can't stop talking, can't stop staring. "Pregnant with my kid. My ring on your finger. My cock inside you. You're stunning like this. You're—fuck—" My hips snap up, driving deep. "I can't wait to make you bigger. Watch you grow. Fill you up again and again."
She shatters. Her whole body seizes, back arching, tits thrust forward, and she comes with a sound that's almost a sob. Her pussy clamps down on my cock, rippling, and I grab her hips and fuck up into her, hard, fast, chasing it.
When I come, I come deep. Pulling her down onto me, holding her there, my cock pulsing inside her, filling her. She collapses forward onto my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, both of us breathing hard, her heart hammering against my ribs.
The candles flicker. Somewhere outside, a car passes. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my shoulder, and I feel her lips curve against my skin.
"We're really doing this," she murmurs.
"Yeah." I press my mouth to her hair. "We're really doing this."
From now on, there’s nothing but our growing family and a whole future finally solid enough to stand on.
"I love you," I tell her, again, because I intend to keep telling her for the next fifty years and figure there's no reason to wait between now and then to start.
"I love you too." She collapses down onto the mattress. "Ring and everything."
"Ring and everything," I agree, Nora snuggling into my side until her breathing steadies.
She falls asleep with her hand splayed over the ring, like she's checking it's still there even in sleep.
I lie awake a long while, tracing slow circles against her spine, looking at the woman who turned a scared, circling man into someone capable of kneeling in front of her and meaning every word he said doing it.
Whatever comes next—the baby, the wedding, every Tuesday stacked on top of the last—I'm not circling anymore.
I already found exactly what I was looking for.