Chapter 21
Dixie
Waking up with Penn’s mouth between my thighs is one of the best ways to wake up. Honestly. Truly.
I pant, resting against the pillows beneath my back to help relieve some of the pressure from lying flat as he kisses my inner thigh. “Good morning, baby.”
“Yes, it is,” I say with a smile. “Two orgasms is a wonderful alarm clock.”
“Oh, I’m not finished.”
Thinking he’s going to climb up and enter me, I close my eyes and bite my lower lip, ready and waiting. My eyes pop open when his warm mouth presses against my sensitive skin again.
“Penn,” I mutter, fisting my hand in his hair.
His tongue moves in slow and deliberate circles before pressing flat against the spot that makes me lift off the mattress.
The way he knows where to focus, when to ease back, and when to push harder amazes me.
I had to draw a map for Stephen to find my clit, and he only found it a handful of times before I gave up trying.
Being married with three kids should provide him with the basic anatomy of a woman, but he’s proven to be a special kind of special man.
“Oh God,” I moan as he nibbles with his teeth.
He doesn’t stop. His tongue circles, dips, and returns to the spot that makes my vision blur. One hand slides up my thigh to steady me as the tension coils higher, and the other slips three fingers in to stretch me the way I want his cock to.
I’m more than wet, and I’m beyond ready. “Penn, please,” I beg. “I want you inside me.”
His fingers press further inside and press against the front muscle, sending me over the edge. The orgasm slams into me like a cement truck, and my back arches as I scream out in pleasure. Actually scream.
Penn doesn’t stop. He keeps going through it, drawing it out until my body trembles and jolts at the severe over-sensitization from being worked over so thoroughly.
Kissing the inside of my thigh, he leans back and eases his fingers out of me. His digits and his beard are coated with my juices, and he slowly sucks his fingers clean, which is both disgusting and erotic. “So tasty.”
“I want you inside me,” I say, my chest heaving.
“I was inside you,” he says, climbing off the bed.
I frown and stare in surprise. “Not what I meant.”
He slips on his jeans and bends down to kiss me. “Baby, if I was inside you the way you meant, we’d never get out of here. And we have an appointment to get to.”
Then he walks into the bathroom, washes his hand and beard, and grabs Princess, who sleeps on the dog bed on the floor by the door. I don’t have much else to do but get dressed myself, extremely confused.
“What’s with the frown?” he asks, walking back into the room. “Not enough pleasure before we leave?”
There’s a prominent bulge in his jeans, so I know he’s turned on. “I’m… I don’t understand.”
Chuckling, he slips his T-shirt over his head before slipping on his leather. “Understand what?”
“You gave me three orgasms.”
“And you don’t understand what, exactly?”
“Why you haven’t gotten yours.”
He tilts his head and smiles. “I enjoy making you come, Dixie.”
“But you clearly have… a need, too.”
Pulling me to him, he tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. “Eating you is a special kind of pleasure, and considering you’re going to be in a position of pain caused by labor, I figure I’ll give you as much pleasure as I can before that happens.”
“But you didn’t get anything.”
“I don’t need it,” he whispers, kissing my lips. “Not every guy expects something in return, baby.”
And I’m completely stunned. A man who goes down on a woman without expecting to get off himself? “I think you’re a unicorn.”
“I do have quite the horn.”
Giggling, I nod. “Yeah, you do. And it’s pretty magical.”
“I serve to please. Now, get your shoes. We gotta go.”
The drive to the clinic takes twenty minutes, and Penn keeps one hand on my knee the entire way. His thumb moves in small circles, and there’s a lightness to him. I can’t quite place why or what caused it, but it’s infectious.
He parks and holds my hand as we walk into the clinic. The waiting room is half full after we’ve checked in, and he helps me ease into the oversized chair.
“The perks of being at an OB/GYN office is the larger chairs,” I say.
“A lot more comfortable, too,” he says, his voice quiet as we get looks from the others in the room.
The biker and the pregnant woman. Apparently, they assume they just knock women up and leave them to handle everything on their own.
Except he didn’t knock me up.
But he’s not letting me do this on my own.
“Dixie Knapp?” a nurse calls out.
We stand together, and we’re led into a small exam room. Penn helps me onto the table even though I don’t need the assistance, and I let him because I know how much he wants to feel helpful. The paper crinkles underneath me as I lean back, and he pulls the chair close to hold my hand.
Dr. Alvarez comes in a few minutes later, and he’s all smiles. Normally, I show up alone, and I haven’t mentioned anything about the father. I know he’s making assumptions, and when he says them aloud, I’ll correct him.
“How are we feeling?” he asks, pulling up my chart on the computer.
“Nervous,” I admit. “But excited. We’re getting closer to the finish line, but it’s a little scary.”
“I’d be concerned if you weren’t feeling that way. Now, let’s check out this little one.”
Lifting my shirt, I brace for the cold gel. He runs the wand over my belly, and I flinch. “So cold.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Penn’s hand tightens around mine, and the machine shows the outline of a baby on the grainy black-and-white screen. When I look over, he’s staring at it like he’s watching the final inning of the World Series on TV.
“Here’s the head,” Dr. Alvarez says. “And the spine. Looks good. Strong heartbeat.”
“I know I wanted to wait, but can you tell the gender?” I ask.
Up until now, I wanted to be surprised. But ever since Penn said he thinks it’s a boy, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. My gut told me it was a girl, but now I don’t think so. I think he might be right.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He moves the wand, and he studies the screen with professional concentration. “Looks like we’re having a… boy.”
The words land somewhere in my chest as I spiral a bit. A boy. Penn squeezes my hand, and I look at him as I’m at a loss for words. His eyes are bright in a way that makes my throat constrict. He looks so happy. And he doesn’t say anything. He just lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it.
“A boy,” I finally say.
The baby moves, and I want to believe he knows we’re talking about him. And then I feel the familiar kick against my bladder. Such a sweet boy.
“Everything looks healthy,” Dr. Alvarez says. “We’ll get you set up for your next appointment, and you can start the fun task of thinking of names.”
Names. Holy shit. I have to come up with a name.
“We’ll figure it out,” Penn says. “I have a few ideas.”
“I’m sure you do,” I say with a laugh.
“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Alvarez asks. “Either of you. Dad, feel free to speak up.”
I’m about to explain that Penn isn’t the father, but he jumps in. “I know I haven’t been to any appointments until now, but is there anything I need to be looking out for? Any changes that indicate something’s wrong?”
“You’ll know if something is wrong. And if she thinks something’s wrong but tries to talk herself out of it, bring her in. Mother’s intuition is real, but they can doubt themselves.”
“And when she goes into labor, will I be able to be in the room with her?”
“Absolutely. A good birthing partner is essential. Some men think making the child is as far as they need to participate, but this is also important.”
Making the child. Penn didn’t get to do that. But he’s taking on the responsibility as if he had.
“Do you have any questions, baby?” Penn asks.
I’m completely stunned, and all I can do is shake my head—no.
Penn stands and helps me down from the table after helping me wipe off the gel on my skin. We walk out to the lot, and he pulls me into his arms instead of leading us to the pickup.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just processing.”
“I didn’t overstep, did I? Asking if I could be in the delivery room?”
Smiling, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be in there.”
“And witness the miracle of our boy? Hell yeah, I do.”
His lips press against mine, and I struggle to process this. Our boy. He didn’t correct Dr. Alvarez when he called Penn Dad. He wants to be there when I push a baby out of my lady bits.
“Plus, I told you it was a boy,” he whispers as I laugh. “I’m so damn happy right now, Dixie.”
At this point, nothing he says should really surprise me, but it does. He’s been so steady through everything and present in ways I didn’t even expect Stephen to be when I first learned we were having a baby. But hearing everything Penn says reminds me just how much I’ve settled my entire life.
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. “I want you here for all of it. The birth. Everything before and after.”
“I meant what I said, Dixie. You aren’t alone,” he says, his hands framing my face with his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
For the first time, I actually believe that.