Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 60790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“That’s how I know.”
I looked at her pussy—or what was exposed of it. At her pretty little clit that looked like it was just begging for me to touch it.
And as suddenly as it appeared in my line of sight—causing me a major erection I might add—it was gone.
“Now, do you see?” She raised her arms in the air.
I must’ve looked as confused as I felt because she threw her arms up in the air again.
“Useless. You’re pretty to look at, but you don’t have a brain in that big ol’ head of yours.”
Before she could take another step in the opposite direction, I caught her by the wrist, tumbled her into the bed beside me, and rolled as I settled my hips between hers.
Then I pressed my body into hers, telling her without words that she couldn’t go anywhere.
“A, I don’t know what you’re talking about because my brain function is still trying to play catch up with the night before,” I informed her. “B, even if I was firing on all cylinders, you can’t put your pussy in my line of sight and expect me to have coherent thoughts.”
She opened her mouth to retort something, but I pressed my hand over her mouth before she could speak.
“And C, I don’t really fucking care right now,” I growled.
Then I pressed my aching cock into her core and ground down.
She shivered as she widened her legs even farther.
“You want my cock?”
She shook her head at the same time she shifted her hips in my direction.
“Your head’s saying no, but your hips are telling me yes,” I teased. “Which one is it?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it.
Moments later, her hands were at my jaw as she pulled me down into her. “Oh, fuck it.”
Chapter 6
Coffee is a gift to myself. Here’s something that’ll keep you from getting arrested.
-Coffee Cup
George
Six weeks later
I watched my wife puke for the fifth time that morning, and my gut clenched.
“This is all your fault!” she moaned miserably into the toilet bowl.
At least it was clean.
My housekeeper had come by yesterday and done a head to toe cleaning of my house, leaving no stone unturned.
“I’m sorry!” I repeated for the fourth time. “I swear to God, Wrigley. I swear, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy!”
I wouldn’t. Watching her puke, day in and day out, was agonizing.
Wrigley started to laugh into the toilet. “You’re saying you don’t want me anymore?”
Did the woman only hear what she wanted to hear?
I dropped down onto my knees beside her and smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Baby,” I whispered. “This may not be what you planned, or what I planned,” I told her gently. “But it’s what I want. I want you. I want this baby. I want what we have, and I don’t want it to ever end. Not fucking ever.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You think it’ll be okay?”
I laughed.
“I think it’ll be great.”
She leaned back with a sigh and then tumbled into my arms.
I caught her, despite the puke I could see on her chin.
She buried her face into my shirt, and I held her.
What I did not do was rock her. Rocking her was a no-no. Something in which I’d found out moments after finding out she was pregnant about four days ago.
“Please tell me you’re not leaving,” she begged.
I bit my lip.
“I have practice,” I admitted. “I’m so—”
“If you say you’re sorry I’m going to nut punch you,” she informed me, then burrowed into my chest a little farther, if that was even possible.
I grinned.
We’d been married for a little over six weeks, and all six weeks had definitely been a lesson in understanding.
After our minor freak out over being married, we’d come to an agreement.
We’d continue our dating as we had been, and see how it went from there.
Things had been going great, too.
Until the puking had started last week.
Then just four days ago, I’d finally convinced her to go to the doctor, where we’d learned that Wrigley was six weeks pregnant on the dot.
She hadn’t gone home since.
Which worked for me, because I fuckin’ hated it when she went home.
I slept better with her in my arms, and despite her feeling so badly, I’d thoroughly enjoyed having her in my space since we’d gotten the news.
“Can I go with you?”
I opened my mouth to say no but frowned. “I mean, I guess you can. Today is only a short practice since we’re flying out tomorrow for Toronto.”
That’s when she started crying. “Do you think I can ride with you to Toronto?”
That I doubted, but I would fucking ask.
I’d do anything for her.
***
“So is today bring your girlfriend to work day?” Gentry, our starting pitcher, teased.
I flipped him off and kept walking, looking back over my shoulder only once to make sure she was okay.