Caulter just smiles, pulling me toward it. "It's not just any chair," he says.
"What, it has magical powers?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe," he says. "Come here and I'll show you."
I laugh. "Show me what?"
Caulter reaches for my shirt, raising it over my head before I can object, then drops to his knees. He slides his palms over my stomach, pausing to tenderly caress my pregnant belly. He kisses my stomach, grinning as he looks up at me. "Have I told you today how sexy you are?"
I laugh. "Not nearly enough," I tease.
"Well, I should make sure to catch up on that," he says. "Because I'd hate for my pregnant fiancé to think she's anything except the sexiest woman in the world." He grasps the sides of my cotton skirt in his hands and yanks the fabric over my hips, where it falls into a pool at my feet.
"Your pregnant fiancé is starting to feel somewhat unsexy," I say, my hands clasped over my belly. I'm far past the second trimester, when my cute little belly had just popped out and I was finally looking pregnant. Now I'm less comfortable and I think I've developed a waddle when I walk.
"That's unfortunate," Caulter says, his hands moving up my legs. He cups my ass cheeks, making a growling sound deep in his throat, the one that reveals his obvious approval of my body. Then he slides my panties over my hips and tosses them aside. "Because I seem to have developed quite a thing for pregnant women."
I arch my eyebrow. "Women, plural?"
"This pregnant woman, specifically," he says, spreading my legs. He inhales deeply between my legs before covering my pussy with his mouth. When he explores me with his tongue, the heat from his mouth envelops me, distracting me from all of the self-conscious thoughts about my body. He makes approving sounds as he licks me, and hearing that from him makes me able to let go of the nagging self-consciousness and enjoy his touch.
He slides his fingers inside me, his mouth covering my clit, and the sensation nearly pushes me over the edge. Everything seems so much more sensitive now, and Caulter knows that. So he torments me by working his magic between my legs for what seems like an eternity, then denies me. "Not yet," he says, standing with his hand in mine.
I hear myself let out a small whimper, disappointed in the absence of his fingers. The throbbing between my legs is insistent, demanding his swift return. "Not yet?" I pout, but my momentary disappointment is erased as I watch my fiancé slowly disrobe.
He does it seductively. With excruciating slowness, he unbuttons the dress shirt he wore to his meeting earlier today. He's still managing the foundation he started several years ago, the one what assists struggling and deserving businesses as an angel investor. Despite his lack of formal college education, Caulter has a brilliant mind for business. And he looks the part, too, in his suit pants and collared shirt – the shirt that's now in a crumpled heap on the floor.
I watch as he slowly takes off the rest of his clothes, my breath hitching as he removes his pants and stands naked before me, his cock fully erect.
Even if I see Caulter naked every day, the sight never fails to make my heart skip a few beats in my chest.
I'm a lucky girl.
Caulter gives me that crooked grin of his. "Don't think I don't see the look in your eyes when you see this specimen of manhood in front of you."
I roll my eyes. He's right, but I'll never let him know that. "You're a specimen of something, that's for sure."
"Get your sweet little ass on that chair," he says, more teasing than demanding.
"My ass is hardly little anymore," I note. "What is this thing?" It's not a regular chair and certainly not a recliner, not with its elongated s-shape and narrow width.
"It's a sex chair." Caulter grins at me like he's inordinately pleased with himself.
"You got a sex chair?" I squeal. "That's your gift to me?"
"That's right," he says, pulling me toward the chair. He straddles it, a leg on either side, his back against the raised curve, and pulls me down to his lap, my back against him, inside me in one swift movement. "Now, tell me what you think of this gift."
CHAPTER TWO
Caulter
My fiancé.
My soon-to-be-wife.
Katherine Harrison.
The formerly stuck-up, too-nerdy-for-her-own-good girl from Brighton Academy who used to be the only thing about high school I'd look forward to every day. God, how I loved to get a rise out of her back then – I'd do anything I could to get those cheeks to flush bright red from embarrassment.
And back then, that happened on a daily basis.
Who would have thought that Katherine Harrison would be pregnant with my child? And that she would be marrying me in a few short weeks?